c7_assassin
3rd Level Black Feather
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Okay, everyone, this is the first story I'm ever posting here...
I don't really write much fiction, but if you enjoy it let me know, I've already got part II percolating in my head... anyway, hope you like it!
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Eileen Riemer loved her job as chief of psychiatry at Fairplay Hospital. She really did. Sure, it was messy sometimes, and depressing. You were dealing with humanity's detritus there, mostly, the too old, the too sick, the too crazy. Patients nobody knew how to handle, problems nobody knew how to solve, people you wouldn't want to know. Outdated treatments, dangerous medications. Colleagues who didn't take you seriously, or disagreed with your approach, and activists who called you a maniac. Seeing the inside of a closed psychiatric ward every single day would make some people burn out, but not Eileen Reimer. She truly loved her work.
Because it wasn't about the problems for Eileen; it was about the solutions. This was a job where she was able make a difference in people's lives; to really help people. And that was all she had ever really wanted to do with her life, when you came right down to it. Help people. It was her passion. And psychiatry was a field where she was able to combine her greatest passion with her greatest talent: control.
Eileen Riemer had a gift for manipulation. Whether it was her siblings, friends, boyfriends, Eileen always had a gift for knowing how to turn a situation to her advantage. Even though she wasn't always the most beautiful woman in the room, she never failed to get whatever (and whomever) she wanted. She was able to manage her relationships with bosses and professors in college so that the outcome was exactly what it was supposed to be, whether the tool was a display of feminine vulnerability, or high-minded idealism, or gritty determination. Sometimes she just used sex.
But never for herself! That was what Eileen always reminded herself of, on the rare occasions when it seemed unpleasant to move around people like so many pieces on a chess board. She was going to be a doctor, in the business of saving lives, helping those who needed her the most. People who hadn't been able to help themselves. Whatever she had to do to be in a position where she could do the most good, and stay in that position, was justified.
Eileen had gotten into the best med schools, and had become a brilliant physician, and then had moved to the specialty she had her sights set on: psychiatry. Her work in behaviour modification through psychological and neurological therapy had won her widespread acclaim in the medical community, even though it had been highly controversial at first. She leveraged this success to become one of the youngest chiefs of psychiatry in the country, working at a world renowned hospital. And here she supervised the best team of doctors and nurses she could ever hope for, gifted individuals whose unquestioning obedience she could count on. And here her research had continued.
---
From the notes of Eileen Riemer, MD
Draft of an unfinished article:
'Psychological response to tactile overstimulation of nervous system in conjunction with "abusive" behavior.'
Abstract: Extensive research over the last several years (Chang, 2005; Reimer, 2006) suggests that intense neurological overstimulation, somewhat in visual and auditory form, but especially through tactile means (the so called 'ticklish' response) has profound short term effects on the psychological state of psychiatric patients. After overstimulation treatments, subjects often appear to be in a childlike psychological state, exhibit signs of delerium and euphoria, and are generally more complaint with treatment. This effect is consistent for all patients, regardless of psychiatric condition.
Theory: Classical dominance theory suggests that the ticklish response evolved primarily as a form of social control among primates. Tickling was way for larger members of a primate troop to assert social dominance over smaller and younger members without causing them lasting physical harm. Recent revisions to dominance theory include gender hierarchy as being also enforced by tickling behaviour. Males are able to subdue females for sexual purposes or punish them for sexual 'transgressions' within the troop with tickling instead of violence. The question remains in dominance theory whether male ticklishness is a selected evolutionary trait or a secondary trait passed though female genes.
Note: Dominance directly contradicts the theory that tickling evolved as a 'bonding' mechanism between primate infants and parents.
The purpose of this ongoing research is to test the validity of dominance theory as a whole, as well as variations within the theory. A determination needs to be made whether observed behavioural changes in patients are purely the result of neurological overstimulation, or if agressive, 'dominant' behavior of a researcher can increase these positive effects in patients. In the case of male patients, the experiment will also test whether such behaviour can cause a submissive response in otherwise dominant men.
---
The time was right for Eileen's research, and she was just the woman for the job. In the past ten years, Eileen had cemented her reputation as the world's foremost expert on the use of tickling as psychiatric therapy.
The use of physical treatments on mental disorders had fallen out of popularity a long time before Eileen got into medicine. The lobotomy was gone, dunking stools were a relic, even good old fashioned electroshock wasn't used much anymore. All doctors had left were pills, and they didn't work for everyone. For many people, the sad fact was that medicine didn't have any answers about how to cure them.
That was before Eileen arrived on the scene. Always a reader, she had been fascinated with the old psychoanalytic theories of Freud and Jung, and especially Pavlov's work on conditioning. Even as a pre-med, she was convinced that somewhere in here was the key to treating the mentally ill. Psychological problems came from not developing in the right way, and how could an undeveloped person ever really recover? They'd be lost, they wouldn't know where to begin. Even with therapy, you were depending on the patients to understand things they couldn't understand. That was why so many mental patients stayed sick. But if you could convince a patient that their well-being didn't depend on understanding, or feelings, or anything at all except doing what you told them to, then maybe they'd have a chance. With a totally compliant patient, a good psychiatrist could work wonders.
The problem for Eileen was, nobody would believe these theories of hers without experimental evidence to back them up. And how could she conduct experiments on achieving 'total compliance' from her patients? Possible methods could be pain, or extreme cold, or starvation...but of course no ethical code would ever allow anything of the sort. But Eileen soon had an epiphany.
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Research will involve ten male subjects and ten female subjects with a background of mental distress. Indicators will be good physical health, poor response to medication, and high responsiveness to tactile stimulation.
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Eileen discovered that when you overloaded a person's nervous system by tickling them to the point of utter exhaustion, all their psychological symptoms seemed to magically disappear for a while. It was like shock treatment, but without any real harm done to the patient. It was just a matter of pushing him or her beyond their perceived 'limits.' Some patients lost control almost instantly and the treatment might only last a few minutes. Others lasted hours. But in the end, Eileen was able to prove that it could be used on anyone. Tickling relieved depression; it relieved mania. Obsessive patients would calm down; and if you suggested to an anorexic that she might like a sandwich afterwards, she would gladly accept it.
The effects soon wore off, of course. Often the patients were angry and less cooperative than before. But Eileen found that by repeating the treatments in a sequence, two or three per day, those side effects tended to decrease. By the end of the second day, most patients were more polite with the doctors and nurses, more responsive, more willing to eat and take their meds than ever before. And most importantly, they stopped questioning any of their doctor's instructions. And once they stopped questioning, they didn't need to receive any more treatments.
Eileen's studies were published in the major medical journals, and her results were duplicated. It turned out there was now a safe, fast, reliable treatment for all mental disorders. The doctors called it 'overstimulation' so they didn't feel silly recommending it as a treatment. Eileen rode the crest of her victory all the way to the chief's office at Fairplay.
Of course, 'overstimulation' wasn't without its critics. Eileen had to duck some malpractice lawsuits from a few of the early test subjects. Allegations of 'abuse' and 'misconduct'. But only a few; almost all of her patients had become more manageable after having the treatment, and Eileen was gifted at managing people. Still, the few she couldn't control had gotten out and had begun spreading rumours about a 'barbaric' punishment being inflicted on the mentally ill in some hospitals. Other doctors who used the treatment began to see the same thing. Angry patients, bad publicity. Of course nothing had come of it yet, and maybe nothing would. But the stories they told to the press, about fingernails raking their skin, about begging for mercy, thinking they were going to die, wishing they were going to die, about wetting themselves and eventually passing out... Eileen knew that if overstimulation was going to survive, something about the treatment would have to change. And that required more data.
---
First subject is a caucasian male, 23 years old, 5"8, 78 kg, slim build, non-smoker, good physical condition. Patient was self-admitted for major depressive episode. Clinical diagnosis: bipolar disorder.
---
Jordan hadn't been having a good time lately. In fact, now that he had some time to think about it, he was having trouble remembering the last good time he had. Had it been weeks? Months? Hard to remember, since he had almost certainly been shitfaced at the time.
Jordan wasn't usually one to feel sorry for himself, but damned if this year hadn't sucked like nothing had ever sucked before. First he had stupidly quit his job over a personal problem with his boss (couldn't have gotten a transfer to another department, genius?), and finding work had been more than tough. He finally landed a ridiculous gig as a janitor in a mall. Scrubbing other people's shit off toilet seats, that's what his parents sent him to college for. His girlfriend was there to support him at the beginning, but then one night when they were at a party, he had managed to wreck that too. Okay, so most girls probably don't like you trying to drunkenly grope their best friend. Whatever, they were all drunk, it was a party, but apparently that didn't give him a pass. Something about him being 'not the man I fell in love with anymore'. That sucked. But being alone wasn't so bad. In fact, lately he had been feeling better and freer than ever before in his life, staying out, having a good time. Then one night, the girl he was hitting on produced a boyfriend who'd misplaced his sense of humour. The guy took a swing at him (big mistake), because apparently he forgot that beer comes in handy glass bottles. So, smash, down goes buddy, and all of a sudden Jordan was hauled into court over 'assault with a deadly weapon.' Dad had bailed him out, but from there things spiraled. He couldn't eat, he just felt like sleeping all day. When his next court date came, Jordan hadn't even had the energy to make it in. That had pissed the judge off, and the only way they had been able to square things with her was for Jordan to check himself into Fairplay hospital for a 'psychological evaluation.'
The place really wasn't so bad, as far as psych wards go. Being watched all the time sucked, and some of these people gave him the creeps (they were mental patients, after all). But this was supposed to be a good hospital. Everyone said so. The nurses were smoking hot, at least. Sizzling hot. It made Jordan wonder if he shouldn't get himself locked up in psych wards more often. And the way they would look at you, always courteous, but a little superior, with a touch of wariness. That's right, I'm a dangerous man, honey. Of course, Jordan wasn't feeling so dangerous these days. He was feeling more like a walking corpse.
He'd had a couple sessions with one of the shrinks here, some old man, and it hadn't gone so well. He'd wanted him to take pills, but the pills just made him feel sick. And they kept shoving food in his face, and he'd told them to go to hell. He'd eat when he was hungry. Finally the doctor mentioned some kind of new treatment they were trying out. Jordan hadn't really listened to the details, and he wasn't interested.
But later that day, a hot blonde nurse he had been calling 'Pamela' in his head came into his room with a piece of paper in her hand. She introduced herself as Nurse Steubin said that they were doing experiments on a new type of therapy for patients like him. Some physical kind of therapy. Touch therapy. She told him that she would be there to assist with the treatment and that she really hoped he would agree to participate. She gave him the eyes and smiled and handed him the consent form. This time Jordan signed without a second thought.
---
The modified experimental treatment will consist of two phases. Phase one will be identical to unmodified tactile overstimulation in intensity, in order to increase psychological malleability and prep patient for further research phases. Duration will, of course, depend on how positively the patient responds.
---
Eileen had Nurse Hayes double check that everything was set up, the table, the IV, the recording devices, and she sent Nurse Steubin to bring in the subject. Nurses Hayes and Steubin were the best young psychiatric nurses in the hospital. Eileen liked that they were good at their jobs, and she liked that they were young; the older nurses tended to question her methods. The young ones did what they were told.
And these two showed a genuine enthusiasm for this treatment, not to mention talent. Working alone, each could overcome resistance in their patients faster than any other nurses. Eileen noticed their abilities and paired them together. She found that the two of them could elicit the desired response from a patient at least 50% faster than normal. Although they were trained to not show any emotion during treatment, Eileen had caught looks in both their eyes that told her they were enjoying themselves immensely. That was good.
Their record was 3 minutes, 45 seconds on an 28 year old woman with post-partum depression, who had 'an overdeveloped tactile sensitivity.' She had collapsed so quickly, they weren't sure her reaction was genuine until she had fainted and almost choked.
When Eileen was designing her research, she had known that these two would play a major role.
Nurse Steubin came in with the subject in tow. This was the first time Eileen had seen him. He seemed pretty unremarkable; a college graduate, average height, a face that suggested Irish or Scottish ancestry, somewhat skinny from not eating properly. He'd recently been in a barfight, she saw on his chart. Probably compensated for his perceived physical shortcomings through aggression and an overdeveloped sex drive, typical narcissistic male behaviour. He was perfect.
"Hello, Jordan. My name is Dr. Reimer, I'm going to be supervising your treatment here today."
Jordan extended his hand and grinned. "Hello, Dr. Reimer. Happy to be here. "
More overcompensation, grinning and cheerfulness when he was about to undergo a physical treatment. She'd been right about this one. The nervous patients always tried hardest. She shook his hand and returned his smile.
"If you'd please take a seat on the table here, we can get started. The treatment will only take a minute."
Jordan sat on the padded table in the center of the room. Nurse Hayes approached with an IV needle.
"Here, you'll need this. We give you saline while you're here so there's no chance of you getting dehydrated." He had shrugged and allowed her to insert the needle. Once the line was in his arm, she took a second needle from her coat and injected it into the solution.
It usually took between ten and twenty seconds for the drug to begin working. The subject said "And what was that?" as Nurse Steubin gently took hold of his shoulders and waited. A few seconds later, his head lolled to the side, and the nurses laid him back on the table.
The leather straps, which had been hidden from view, came out now. The nurses stretched his arms and legs into an X, and secured his wrists, ankles, knees and elbows. The powerful new muscle relaxant they used made most of this restraint unnecessary, but it was standard procedure.
The young man was trying to say something. They usually did at this point, although sometimes it was slurred and difficult to understand. The drug sapped their strength and turned their muscles into jelly, but it didn't affect their nervous system in the slightest. From the look on his face, he was trying to protest. He looked afraid.
Eileen stood over her patient and looked him in the eyes. "What's about to happen to you is called 'overstimulation' treatment. Jordan, you're here because you haven't been cooperating with our staff. You haven't been responding to the medications we prescribe you. You haven't been participating in group therapy. You won't talk to our doctors, and you won't eat. Jordan, you're here because you put yourself here. This is for your own good. I want you to think about that while you're getting this treatment." She nodded to Nurse Hayes, standing at the other end of the table.
Nurse Hayes began slowly grazing her nails over the soles of the subject's bare feet. A slow start often made the subjects more distressed than if the treatment was immediately torturous, but under the drugs and the restraints, there was no risk of them disrupting the procedure.
He responded well, facial twitching, tiny muscle spasms. He seemed to be trying not to laugh, although he couldn't stop a pained smile from forming on his lips.
Nurse Hayes recognized these signs and suddenly began attacking the subject's feet furiously. This caused him to explode with the laughter he had been trying to hold in. The subject's laughter was high pitched, involuntary, probably unlike any other laughter he ever allowed himself. He was thrashing too, despite the relaxant, but the restraints kept him from moving more than a few millimeters. Nurse Hayes was an expert, and she was already noting which areas of his feet were responding best to her touch. That was why they could never use tools for this kind of therapy; tools couldn't substitute for a clever pair of hands and a sharp set of fingernails.
Nurse Hayes kept up her treatment of the subject's feet for several minutes. He showed no signs of losing sensitivity. Eileen was pleased with the changes she could see taking place. His face was flushed now, and tears had formed in his eyes. His laughter was a high pitched squeal. Muscle spasms were still occurring all over, but his body was fit, and he didn't seem to be losing his will to fight. She motioned for Nurse Hayes to stop, and nodded at Nurse Steubin to begin.
Nurse Steubin stepped up to the table and immediately dug into the patient's ribs, wiggling her fingers furiously. This caught the subject by surprise and he bucked against the restraints holding him down. His laughter changed pitched, becoming ever so slightly more desperate, as he fruitlessly tried to protect himself from the fingers probing his rib cage. Nurse Steubin paid no attention to his struggles as she continued her treatment. When she had finished testing his ribs, she began examining his sides, from the hips up to his armpits. The subject's laughter changed again, and Eileen could hear that he was trying to speak now. He was trying to say something along the lines of "stop", "please," "don't," "no more." Good, he was responding. She nodded to Nurse Hayes.
Nurse Hayes moved up to the other side of the table, and together they attacked the subject's upper body, his ribs, stomach, sides, even his collarbones and neck. The subject's weak protests stopped as the ticklish shock took hold of him and made his body shudder. Every muscle in his body was straining against the leather straps, even with the muscle relaxant immobilizing him. His jaw hung open in a silent scream of laughter that he couldn't find the oxygen to expel. The only way he could communicate was by piteously shaking his head "no" over and over.
Eileen looked at her watch. Twelve and a half minutes, and this violent offender's resistance was practically shattered. These two certainly had a gift.
Eileen stepped forward again, and looked down at Jordan's anguished face. She smiled and let one hand reach out and absently stoke his hair. "You look like a boy who badly wants a break from this treatment. Is that right, Jordan? Do you want me to give you a break?"
Jordan's head changed direction and began nodding furiously. He managed to contract his mouth into a "yes" shape, even though he was still laughing too hard to actually say the words. His eyes were locked on Eileen, desperate and begging for mercy.
"Well Jordan, I'm very disappointed in you. This treatment is for your own good, you heard me tell you that already. If you want it to stop, then you must not be very committed to your recovery, and that's a sure sign of mental illness. I was going to stop after only a few more minutes, but now I think you need much more than that."
She stepped back and looked at Nurses Hayes and Steubin, who were doing their best not to smile at Jordan's predicament. "I'm going to go get some coffee. Keep going, when I get back I'll do another assessment and see if more therapy is needed." She turned and left the room without looking back down at the subject, whose eyes she could feel frantically following her out.
As the door clicked shut, Nurse Hayes rested her fingers for a moment. She bent over Jordan and locked eyes with him. "That was a very naughty thing you did just now, asking for a break. We decide when you're ready for a break, don't we Janice?" She smiled at Nurse Steubin, who was still dancing her fingers over the subject's stomach. His abdominal muscles were standing out like knots from the tension, and she seemed to be exploring the tiny grooves they created.
Nurse Steubin looked up at her and smiled back. "That's right, Andrea. I think this stupid little boy needs us to teach him a lesson in obedience." She looked back down at Jordan. "Would you like that, little boy? Would you like us to really teach you a lesson today?"
Jordan had been shaking his head and gasping "no" since they started talking, but they didn't give any sign that they noticed.
Nurse Hayes began wiggling her fingers in the subject's armpits. "We just love giving arrogant little boys like you the punishment you deserve. In fact, I wouldn't mind torturing you like this for hours and hours and hours. I really hope Dr. Reimer lets us keep going, because I just love seeing you beg and squirm, you little punk."
Jordan had stopped talking and was now reduced to shaking his head and straining against the straps. His eyes were squeezed shut.
Nurse Steubin saw this and grabbed a fistful of the subject's hair, surprising him into opening his eyes. "Are you trying to close your eyes to get away from us, little boy? I don't think that's going to help. I don't think you have any choice but to stay here and take your punishment for as long as we say. And I want you looking right in my eyes the whole time, or we'll make it even worse for you. So much worse." She let go and started massaging the subject's ribs, making his body shudder wildly. But his eyes stayed on Nurse Steubin's as she did it, giving her a desolate look that she returned with one of cool amusement.
She leaned down close to his face as she continued working on his ribs, until her nose was only an inch from his. "Is this what you thought I meant when I said I'd be touching your body? Hmm? Is this what you thought I'd be doing to you?" Her voice had dropped almost to a whisper, but she knew Jordan could hear her perfectly. His laughter was practically silent at this point. "I don't think it was. I think you had something a little dirtier in mind, didn't you?" As she asked, she moved her hands down to his inner thighs and squeezed, making him arch his pelvis so forcefully that for a moment, her own thoughts became somewhat dirty. Tears were flowing out of Jordan's eyes, but they stayed locked on her face, those desperate, pretty eyes, and she felt a slight flush. She stood back up and moved her hands back to his ribs.
"You're a very bad little boy for thinking those thoughts. I think Andrea's right, I think you need a lot more punishment. And we're going to give it to you, just like this, for a long, long time. We can keep this up forever. Would you like that, little boy? Would you like this to go on forever?"
As she said this, the door clicked open again. Eileen reentered the room, having checked the monitoring equipment and finding that everything was working perfectly. She gave Nurses Hayes and Steubin a look and stepped forward to the table. She looked down at Jordan's tear-streaked face. "Well, young man, how are you enjoying your therapy? I think maybe you need a break from this treatment. Do you think you need a break?"
Knowing the correct response this time, Jordan tried desperately to force air into his lungs to answer, and to make his limp jaw work. "No, no, no, no break, I don't... I don't need a break, no..." His head collapsed back onto the table and he shut his eyes.
"Well, I'm very disappointed to hear that, Jordan. I already said I thought you needed a break. If you had just agreed, I would have gladly given it to you. The fact that you're not listening to the advice of your treating physician tells me that you're still very ill. Now I think you need more therapy." She put her hand over the subject's mouth to stifle his protests.
To the two nurses, she said, "Continue the treatment, and don't be afraid to increase the intensity. This young man still needs a great deal of help. I'll be back in a few hours." She again exited the room, and the door locked behind her.
Nurse Hayes looked down at Jordan and smiled. "Well, you are just all kinds of stupid, aren't you, boy? She was going to give you a break, and instead now you have the rest of the afternoon with us." She began kneading just above his hipbone with one hand, and let the other reach down to his foot and and scratch furiously. "I think you'll be a very sorry boy by the time we're done with you. Sorry for all the bad things you did to get sent here. Sorry for all the trouble you gave our doctors. Sorry for all the trouble you gave poor Dr. Reimer for not responding to the treatment, and sorry for the bad thoughts you had about Janice and us other nurses. Are you sorry yet, you little shit? Is someone a very sorry little boy?"
The sounds Jordan was making could have been "yes" or a "no" at this point, but it was pretty clear that he was beyond resistance. The muscle relaxant couldn't stop him from moving as much as the straps allowed, but they did keep his muscles from cramping. This was good; otherwise they really would have had to give him a break by now.
As Nurse Hayes kept working on his hipbones and his feet, Nurse Steubin walked up to the head of the table again and bent over Jordan's face. "And you have something else to be sorry for too, you disobedient little boy. I told you that I wanted you looking me in the eye the entire time you were on that table. Well, if I'm not mistaken, you disobeyed me when you looked at Dr. Reimer when she was talking to you. Didn't you?" She began lightly scratching Jordan's upper arms and his armpits. "Didn't you?" She continued until Jordan had begun nodding his head in the affirmative, and he was staring with an agonized intensity into Nurse Steubin's eyes.
"Maybe somebody has the hots for Dr. Reimer," Nurse Hayes said from the foot of the table as she scratched in between the subject's toes.
Never breaking eye contact, Nurse Steubin asked, "Is that true, you pathetic little weakling? Do you have a little crush on pretty Dr. Reimer?" She watched as Jordan desperately shook his head and tried to say "no" through his silent laughter. "I don't think he's being totally honest with us, Andrea. I think maybe we need to persuade him to tell the truth." She moved her hands back to his collarbones, and Nurse Hayes began attacking his sides again.
"Do you want Dr. Reimer, little boy? Do you? Do you?" They took turns asking, until Jordan stopped denying and started nodding his head.
Nurse Hayes softened the intensity. "Good, I'm glad you decided to be honest with us for once, you little punk. But now the real question is, since you've admitted you have the hots for Dr. Reimer, and we already know you have the hots for Nurse Steubin, which one do you want more?"
Both nurses smiled as they saw the subject's eyes widen at the question. Nurse Steubin bent down closer to Jordan's face and asked, "Yes, Jordan, which of us do you like better? Dr. Reimer or me?" She punctuated the question by digging into his collarbones and forcing another yelp out of him, even though he hadn't known there was any air left in his lungs. She felt the excited flush return as she watched the agony of his choice play out in his eyes. This time she didn't back away, and she didn't ease up on his collarbones either.
A few seconds later Jordan gave the only answer he could think of under such conditions, he stared into Nurse Steubin's eyes and said "You! You! Please, you!"
Nurse Steubin smiled a satisfied smile, but Nurse Hayes said, "What a naughty answer! I think this sexist little pervert is still just judging the hospital staff by our looks. Either that, or he's too much of a coward to give us the honest truth." She started scratching his armpits again. "I think you'd better rethink your answer, little boy. You like Dr. Reimer better than Janice, don't you?"
This time Nurse Steubin stayed silent, but she kept staring into Jordan's tortured eyes and smiling a cold smile of superiority. But Jordan wasn't in any state to come up with a plan; after a few seconds of Nurse Hayes at his armpits, he said, "Yes, I like Dr. Reimer...yes, yes!"
Nurse Steubin started mercilessly digging into his rib cage. "That means you lied before! You're a bad boy for lying! Are you a little liar? Are you? Are you?" Each time she asked she squeezed one of Jordan's ribs, and Nurse Hayes poked his armpits. "Are you? Are you?" They taunted in unison.
Jordan's body didn't seem to be listening to his brain anymore, he was writhing like an epileptic and the sounds he was making were well beyond human understanding. He couldn't even keep his eyes on Nurse Steubin's anymore, his head just shook limply from side to side and his eyelids fluttered.
Just then the door clicked open and Eileen reentered the room. She nodded to the nurses and they stepped away from the table. She approached Jordan and waited for him to open his eyes. She looked over his body, drenched in sweat and still quivering, then looked deep into his eyes that had been so full of cocky charm and rebellion earlier today. Now they was only submission and fear. She smoothed his hair again and said "Well Jordan, what do you say now? Would you like the treatment to continue, or do you want to rest now?"
The subject couldn't answer; he just stared into space and shook his head. "I...please...just...please..." he said in a barely audible whisper. Neither affirmative nor negative, just...compliant.
Eileen nodded to the two nurses, who undid the straps and lowered Jordan's arms. He was still too paralyzed from the muscle relaxant to move much on his own, so they gently placed him in the recovery position, detached the IV and wiped his face with a damp cloth. Eileen pressed the intercom and summoned two orderlies to wheel the patient back to his room. He'd sleep for the next several hours.
Once he was out of the room, Eileen turned to Nurses Hayes and Steubin. "You both did an excellent job. I was watching the entire treatment, and we have the whole thing recorded for posterity."
Nurse Hayes was smiling broadly. "And the way he responded...you were right, it really seems to work better when we use verbal abuse and taunts."
Eileen smiled back. "Yes, the therapeutic effect was achieved remarkably fast this time. From his neurological sensitivity and his psychological background, it should have taken at least 30% longer. The entire treatment done in less than hour. You two have a talent for overstimulation that I can't overstate."
Nurse Steubin spoke up. "I hope you didn't mind the sexual innuendo I added. I was just improvising, I thought it would get a good response from him."
"Not at all, it was perfect. For young men like this, any situation will be laced with sexual innuendo. It can be... therapeutic to turn it against them." She cocked her head. "As I'm sure you're aware of." Nurse Steubin managed not to blush, but her eyes betrayed her embarrassment.
Nurse Hayes said, "What about the next subject? I can't wait to try this again."
"Not yet. This is a small, controlled study. We need to keep working with the same subject for now. We need to see whether the therapeutic effects last or not, whether he responds even more positively next time, whether there are any side effects to this method that we aren't anticipating...it's looking very good so far, but we shouldn't let that blind us."
Eileen began walking toward her office with the two nurses in tow. "Nurse Steubin, I want constant monitoring of the subject's behaviour tonight. If he's awake, I want notes on what he's doing, whether he's improved, how responsive he's being... We need as much data as possible." She walked in and shut the door behind her. The nurses exchanged a crafty smile and went about their duties.
---
Initial results extremely promising. Malleability and submissiveness both enhanced by abusive behaviour. The fact that the researcher herself is not the source of the abuse allows the subject to project the image of 'protective caregiver' onto the treating physician, promising a better therapeutic response to later treatments.
---
Alone in her office, Eileen Reimer smiled, leaned back in her chair and shut her eyes. It was days like today that she lived for as a doctor, another depressed, angry young soul helped by her therapy. The healing process was a beautiful thing.
And there was still so much data to gather.
I don't really write much fiction, but if you enjoy it let me know, I've already got part II percolating in my head... anyway, hope you like it!
---
Eileen Riemer loved her job as chief of psychiatry at Fairplay Hospital. She really did. Sure, it was messy sometimes, and depressing. You were dealing with humanity's detritus there, mostly, the too old, the too sick, the too crazy. Patients nobody knew how to handle, problems nobody knew how to solve, people you wouldn't want to know. Outdated treatments, dangerous medications. Colleagues who didn't take you seriously, or disagreed with your approach, and activists who called you a maniac. Seeing the inside of a closed psychiatric ward every single day would make some people burn out, but not Eileen Reimer. She truly loved her work.
Because it wasn't about the problems for Eileen; it was about the solutions. This was a job where she was able make a difference in people's lives; to really help people. And that was all she had ever really wanted to do with her life, when you came right down to it. Help people. It was her passion. And psychiatry was a field where she was able to combine her greatest passion with her greatest talent: control.
Eileen Riemer had a gift for manipulation. Whether it was her siblings, friends, boyfriends, Eileen always had a gift for knowing how to turn a situation to her advantage. Even though she wasn't always the most beautiful woman in the room, she never failed to get whatever (and whomever) she wanted. She was able to manage her relationships with bosses and professors in college so that the outcome was exactly what it was supposed to be, whether the tool was a display of feminine vulnerability, or high-minded idealism, or gritty determination. Sometimes she just used sex.
But never for herself! That was what Eileen always reminded herself of, on the rare occasions when it seemed unpleasant to move around people like so many pieces on a chess board. She was going to be a doctor, in the business of saving lives, helping those who needed her the most. People who hadn't been able to help themselves. Whatever she had to do to be in a position where she could do the most good, and stay in that position, was justified.
Eileen had gotten into the best med schools, and had become a brilliant physician, and then had moved to the specialty she had her sights set on: psychiatry. Her work in behaviour modification through psychological and neurological therapy had won her widespread acclaim in the medical community, even though it had been highly controversial at first. She leveraged this success to become one of the youngest chiefs of psychiatry in the country, working at a world renowned hospital. And here she supervised the best team of doctors and nurses she could ever hope for, gifted individuals whose unquestioning obedience she could count on. And here her research had continued.
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From the notes of Eileen Riemer, MD
Draft of an unfinished article:
'Psychological response to tactile overstimulation of nervous system in conjunction with "abusive" behavior.'
Abstract: Extensive research over the last several years (Chang, 2005; Reimer, 2006) suggests that intense neurological overstimulation, somewhat in visual and auditory form, but especially through tactile means (the so called 'ticklish' response) has profound short term effects on the psychological state of psychiatric patients. After overstimulation treatments, subjects often appear to be in a childlike psychological state, exhibit signs of delerium and euphoria, and are generally more complaint with treatment. This effect is consistent for all patients, regardless of psychiatric condition.
Theory: Classical dominance theory suggests that the ticklish response evolved primarily as a form of social control among primates. Tickling was way for larger members of a primate troop to assert social dominance over smaller and younger members without causing them lasting physical harm. Recent revisions to dominance theory include gender hierarchy as being also enforced by tickling behaviour. Males are able to subdue females for sexual purposes or punish them for sexual 'transgressions' within the troop with tickling instead of violence. The question remains in dominance theory whether male ticklishness is a selected evolutionary trait or a secondary trait passed though female genes.
Note: Dominance directly contradicts the theory that tickling evolved as a 'bonding' mechanism between primate infants and parents.
The purpose of this ongoing research is to test the validity of dominance theory as a whole, as well as variations within the theory. A determination needs to be made whether observed behavioural changes in patients are purely the result of neurological overstimulation, or if agressive, 'dominant' behavior of a researcher can increase these positive effects in patients. In the case of male patients, the experiment will also test whether such behaviour can cause a submissive response in otherwise dominant men.
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The time was right for Eileen's research, and she was just the woman for the job. In the past ten years, Eileen had cemented her reputation as the world's foremost expert on the use of tickling as psychiatric therapy.
The use of physical treatments on mental disorders had fallen out of popularity a long time before Eileen got into medicine. The lobotomy was gone, dunking stools were a relic, even good old fashioned electroshock wasn't used much anymore. All doctors had left were pills, and they didn't work for everyone. For many people, the sad fact was that medicine didn't have any answers about how to cure them.
That was before Eileen arrived on the scene. Always a reader, she had been fascinated with the old psychoanalytic theories of Freud and Jung, and especially Pavlov's work on conditioning. Even as a pre-med, she was convinced that somewhere in here was the key to treating the mentally ill. Psychological problems came from not developing in the right way, and how could an undeveloped person ever really recover? They'd be lost, they wouldn't know where to begin. Even with therapy, you were depending on the patients to understand things they couldn't understand. That was why so many mental patients stayed sick. But if you could convince a patient that their well-being didn't depend on understanding, or feelings, or anything at all except doing what you told them to, then maybe they'd have a chance. With a totally compliant patient, a good psychiatrist could work wonders.
The problem for Eileen was, nobody would believe these theories of hers without experimental evidence to back them up. And how could she conduct experiments on achieving 'total compliance' from her patients? Possible methods could be pain, or extreme cold, or starvation...but of course no ethical code would ever allow anything of the sort. But Eileen soon had an epiphany.
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Research will involve ten male subjects and ten female subjects with a background of mental distress. Indicators will be good physical health, poor response to medication, and high responsiveness to tactile stimulation.
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Eileen discovered that when you overloaded a person's nervous system by tickling them to the point of utter exhaustion, all their psychological symptoms seemed to magically disappear for a while. It was like shock treatment, but without any real harm done to the patient. It was just a matter of pushing him or her beyond their perceived 'limits.' Some patients lost control almost instantly and the treatment might only last a few minutes. Others lasted hours. But in the end, Eileen was able to prove that it could be used on anyone. Tickling relieved depression; it relieved mania. Obsessive patients would calm down; and if you suggested to an anorexic that she might like a sandwich afterwards, she would gladly accept it.
The effects soon wore off, of course. Often the patients were angry and less cooperative than before. But Eileen found that by repeating the treatments in a sequence, two or three per day, those side effects tended to decrease. By the end of the second day, most patients were more polite with the doctors and nurses, more responsive, more willing to eat and take their meds than ever before. And most importantly, they stopped questioning any of their doctor's instructions. And once they stopped questioning, they didn't need to receive any more treatments.
Eileen's studies were published in the major medical journals, and her results were duplicated. It turned out there was now a safe, fast, reliable treatment for all mental disorders. The doctors called it 'overstimulation' so they didn't feel silly recommending it as a treatment. Eileen rode the crest of her victory all the way to the chief's office at Fairplay.
Of course, 'overstimulation' wasn't without its critics. Eileen had to duck some malpractice lawsuits from a few of the early test subjects. Allegations of 'abuse' and 'misconduct'. But only a few; almost all of her patients had become more manageable after having the treatment, and Eileen was gifted at managing people. Still, the few she couldn't control had gotten out and had begun spreading rumours about a 'barbaric' punishment being inflicted on the mentally ill in some hospitals. Other doctors who used the treatment began to see the same thing. Angry patients, bad publicity. Of course nothing had come of it yet, and maybe nothing would. But the stories they told to the press, about fingernails raking their skin, about begging for mercy, thinking they were going to die, wishing they were going to die, about wetting themselves and eventually passing out... Eileen knew that if overstimulation was going to survive, something about the treatment would have to change. And that required more data.
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First subject is a caucasian male, 23 years old, 5"8, 78 kg, slim build, non-smoker, good physical condition. Patient was self-admitted for major depressive episode. Clinical diagnosis: bipolar disorder.
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Jordan hadn't been having a good time lately. In fact, now that he had some time to think about it, he was having trouble remembering the last good time he had. Had it been weeks? Months? Hard to remember, since he had almost certainly been shitfaced at the time.
Jordan wasn't usually one to feel sorry for himself, but damned if this year hadn't sucked like nothing had ever sucked before. First he had stupidly quit his job over a personal problem with his boss (couldn't have gotten a transfer to another department, genius?), and finding work had been more than tough. He finally landed a ridiculous gig as a janitor in a mall. Scrubbing other people's shit off toilet seats, that's what his parents sent him to college for. His girlfriend was there to support him at the beginning, but then one night when they were at a party, he had managed to wreck that too. Okay, so most girls probably don't like you trying to drunkenly grope their best friend. Whatever, they were all drunk, it was a party, but apparently that didn't give him a pass. Something about him being 'not the man I fell in love with anymore'. That sucked. But being alone wasn't so bad. In fact, lately he had been feeling better and freer than ever before in his life, staying out, having a good time. Then one night, the girl he was hitting on produced a boyfriend who'd misplaced his sense of humour. The guy took a swing at him (big mistake), because apparently he forgot that beer comes in handy glass bottles. So, smash, down goes buddy, and all of a sudden Jordan was hauled into court over 'assault with a deadly weapon.' Dad had bailed him out, but from there things spiraled. He couldn't eat, he just felt like sleeping all day. When his next court date came, Jordan hadn't even had the energy to make it in. That had pissed the judge off, and the only way they had been able to square things with her was for Jordan to check himself into Fairplay hospital for a 'psychological evaluation.'
The place really wasn't so bad, as far as psych wards go. Being watched all the time sucked, and some of these people gave him the creeps (they were mental patients, after all). But this was supposed to be a good hospital. Everyone said so. The nurses were smoking hot, at least. Sizzling hot. It made Jordan wonder if he shouldn't get himself locked up in psych wards more often. And the way they would look at you, always courteous, but a little superior, with a touch of wariness. That's right, I'm a dangerous man, honey. Of course, Jordan wasn't feeling so dangerous these days. He was feeling more like a walking corpse.
He'd had a couple sessions with one of the shrinks here, some old man, and it hadn't gone so well. He'd wanted him to take pills, but the pills just made him feel sick. And they kept shoving food in his face, and he'd told them to go to hell. He'd eat when he was hungry. Finally the doctor mentioned some kind of new treatment they were trying out. Jordan hadn't really listened to the details, and he wasn't interested.
But later that day, a hot blonde nurse he had been calling 'Pamela' in his head came into his room with a piece of paper in her hand. She introduced herself as Nurse Steubin said that they were doing experiments on a new type of therapy for patients like him. Some physical kind of therapy. Touch therapy. She told him that she would be there to assist with the treatment and that she really hoped he would agree to participate. She gave him the eyes and smiled and handed him the consent form. This time Jordan signed without a second thought.
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The modified experimental treatment will consist of two phases. Phase one will be identical to unmodified tactile overstimulation in intensity, in order to increase psychological malleability and prep patient for further research phases. Duration will, of course, depend on how positively the patient responds.
---
Eileen had Nurse Hayes double check that everything was set up, the table, the IV, the recording devices, and she sent Nurse Steubin to bring in the subject. Nurses Hayes and Steubin were the best young psychiatric nurses in the hospital. Eileen liked that they were good at their jobs, and she liked that they were young; the older nurses tended to question her methods. The young ones did what they were told.
And these two showed a genuine enthusiasm for this treatment, not to mention talent. Working alone, each could overcome resistance in their patients faster than any other nurses. Eileen noticed their abilities and paired them together. She found that the two of them could elicit the desired response from a patient at least 50% faster than normal. Although they were trained to not show any emotion during treatment, Eileen had caught looks in both their eyes that told her they were enjoying themselves immensely. That was good.
Their record was 3 minutes, 45 seconds on an 28 year old woman with post-partum depression, who had 'an overdeveloped tactile sensitivity.' She had collapsed so quickly, they weren't sure her reaction was genuine until she had fainted and almost choked.
When Eileen was designing her research, she had known that these two would play a major role.
Nurse Steubin came in with the subject in tow. This was the first time Eileen had seen him. He seemed pretty unremarkable; a college graduate, average height, a face that suggested Irish or Scottish ancestry, somewhat skinny from not eating properly. He'd recently been in a barfight, she saw on his chart. Probably compensated for his perceived physical shortcomings through aggression and an overdeveloped sex drive, typical narcissistic male behaviour. He was perfect.
"Hello, Jordan. My name is Dr. Reimer, I'm going to be supervising your treatment here today."
Jordan extended his hand and grinned. "Hello, Dr. Reimer. Happy to be here. "
More overcompensation, grinning and cheerfulness when he was about to undergo a physical treatment. She'd been right about this one. The nervous patients always tried hardest. She shook his hand and returned his smile.
"If you'd please take a seat on the table here, we can get started. The treatment will only take a minute."
Jordan sat on the padded table in the center of the room. Nurse Hayes approached with an IV needle.
"Here, you'll need this. We give you saline while you're here so there's no chance of you getting dehydrated." He had shrugged and allowed her to insert the needle. Once the line was in his arm, she took a second needle from her coat and injected it into the solution.
It usually took between ten and twenty seconds for the drug to begin working. The subject said "And what was that?" as Nurse Steubin gently took hold of his shoulders and waited. A few seconds later, his head lolled to the side, and the nurses laid him back on the table.
The leather straps, which had been hidden from view, came out now. The nurses stretched his arms and legs into an X, and secured his wrists, ankles, knees and elbows. The powerful new muscle relaxant they used made most of this restraint unnecessary, but it was standard procedure.
The young man was trying to say something. They usually did at this point, although sometimes it was slurred and difficult to understand. The drug sapped their strength and turned their muscles into jelly, but it didn't affect their nervous system in the slightest. From the look on his face, he was trying to protest. He looked afraid.
Eileen stood over her patient and looked him in the eyes. "What's about to happen to you is called 'overstimulation' treatment. Jordan, you're here because you haven't been cooperating with our staff. You haven't been responding to the medications we prescribe you. You haven't been participating in group therapy. You won't talk to our doctors, and you won't eat. Jordan, you're here because you put yourself here. This is for your own good. I want you to think about that while you're getting this treatment." She nodded to Nurse Hayes, standing at the other end of the table.
Nurse Hayes began slowly grazing her nails over the soles of the subject's bare feet. A slow start often made the subjects more distressed than if the treatment was immediately torturous, but under the drugs and the restraints, there was no risk of them disrupting the procedure.
He responded well, facial twitching, tiny muscle spasms. He seemed to be trying not to laugh, although he couldn't stop a pained smile from forming on his lips.
Nurse Hayes recognized these signs and suddenly began attacking the subject's feet furiously. This caused him to explode with the laughter he had been trying to hold in. The subject's laughter was high pitched, involuntary, probably unlike any other laughter he ever allowed himself. He was thrashing too, despite the relaxant, but the restraints kept him from moving more than a few millimeters. Nurse Hayes was an expert, and she was already noting which areas of his feet were responding best to her touch. That was why they could never use tools for this kind of therapy; tools couldn't substitute for a clever pair of hands and a sharp set of fingernails.
Nurse Hayes kept up her treatment of the subject's feet for several minutes. He showed no signs of losing sensitivity. Eileen was pleased with the changes she could see taking place. His face was flushed now, and tears had formed in his eyes. His laughter was a high pitched squeal. Muscle spasms were still occurring all over, but his body was fit, and he didn't seem to be losing his will to fight. She motioned for Nurse Hayes to stop, and nodded at Nurse Steubin to begin.
Nurse Steubin stepped up to the table and immediately dug into the patient's ribs, wiggling her fingers furiously. This caught the subject by surprise and he bucked against the restraints holding him down. His laughter changed pitched, becoming ever so slightly more desperate, as he fruitlessly tried to protect himself from the fingers probing his rib cage. Nurse Steubin paid no attention to his struggles as she continued her treatment. When she had finished testing his ribs, she began examining his sides, from the hips up to his armpits. The subject's laughter changed again, and Eileen could hear that he was trying to speak now. He was trying to say something along the lines of "stop", "please," "don't," "no more." Good, he was responding. She nodded to Nurse Hayes.
Nurse Hayes moved up to the other side of the table, and together they attacked the subject's upper body, his ribs, stomach, sides, even his collarbones and neck. The subject's weak protests stopped as the ticklish shock took hold of him and made his body shudder. Every muscle in his body was straining against the leather straps, even with the muscle relaxant immobilizing him. His jaw hung open in a silent scream of laughter that he couldn't find the oxygen to expel. The only way he could communicate was by piteously shaking his head "no" over and over.
Eileen looked at her watch. Twelve and a half minutes, and this violent offender's resistance was practically shattered. These two certainly had a gift.
Eileen stepped forward again, and looked down at Jordan's anguished face. She smiled and let one hand reach out and absently stoke his hair. "You look like a boy who badly wants a break from this treatment. Is that right, Jordan? Do you want me to give you a break?"
Jordan's head changed direction and began nodding furiously. He managed to contract his mouth into a "yes" shape, even though he was still laughing too hard to actually say the words. His eyes were locked on Eileen, desperate and begging for mercy.
"Well Jordan, I'm very disappointed in you. This treatment is for your own good, you heard me tell you that already. If you want it to stop, then you must not be very committed to your recovery, and that's a sure sign of mental illness. I was going to stop after only a few more minutes, but now I think you need much more than that."
She stepped back and looked at Nurses Hayes and Steubin, who were doing their best not to smile at Jordan's predicament. "I'm going to go get some coffee. Keep going, when I get back I'll do another assessment and see if more therapy is needed." She turned and left the room without looking back down at the subject, whose eyes she could feel frantically following her out.
As the door clicked shut, Nurse Hayes rested her fingers for a moment. She bent over Jordan and locked eyes with him. "That was a very naughty thing you did just now, asking for a break. We decide when you're ready for a break, don't we Janice?" She smiled at Nurse Steubin, who was still dancing her fingers over the subject's stomach. His abdominal muscles were standing out like knots from the tension, and she seemed to be exploring the tiny grooves they created.
Nurse Steubin looked up at her and smiled back. "That's right, Andrea. I think this stupid little boy needs us to teach him a lesson in obedience." She looked back down at Jordan. "Would you like that, little boy? Would you like us to really teach you a lesson today?"
Jordan had been shaking his head and gasping "no" since they started talking, but they didn't give any sign that they noticed.
Nurse Hayes began wiggling her fingers in the subject's armpits. "We just love giving arrogant little boys like you the punishment you deserve. In fact, I wouldn't mind torturing you like this for hours and hours and hours. I really hope Dr. Reimer lets us keep going, because I just love seeing you beg and squirm, you little punk."
Jordan had stopped talking and was now reduced to shaking his head and straining against the straps. His eyes were squeezed shut.
Nurse Steubin saw this and grabbed a fistful of the subject's hair, surprising him into opening his eyes. "Are you trying to close your eyes to get away from us, little boy? I don't think that's going to help. I don't think you have any choice but to stay here and take your punishment for as long as we say. And I want you looking right in my eyes the whole time, or we'll make it even worse for you. So much worse." She let go and started massaging the subject's ribs, making his body shudder wildly. But his eyes stayed on Nurse Steubin's as she did it, giving her a desolate look that she returned with one of cool amusement.
She leaned down close to his face as she continued working on his ribs, until her nose was only an inch from his. "Is this what you thought I meant when I said I'd be touching your body? Hmm? Is this what you thought I'd be doing to you?" Her voice had dropped almost to a whisper, but she knew Jordan could hear her perfectly. His laughter was practically silent at this point. "I don't think it was. I think you had something a little dirtier in mind, didn't you?" As she asked, she moved her hands down to his inner thighs and squeezed, making him arch his pelvis so forcefully that for a moment, her own thoughts became somewhat dirty. Tears were flowing out of Jordan's eyes, but they stayed locked on her face, those desperate, pretty eyes, and she felt a slight flush. She stood back up and moved her hands back to his ribs.
"You're a very bad little boy for thinking those thoughts. I think Andrea's right, I think you need a lot more punishment. And we're going to give it to you, just like this, for a long, long time. We can keep this up forever. Would you like that, little boy? Would you like this to go on forever?"
As she said this, the door clicked open again. Eileen reentered the room, having checked the monitoring equipment and finding that everything was working perfectly. She gave Nurses Hayes and Steubin a look and stepped forward to the table. She looked down at Jordan's tear-streaked face. "Well, young man, how are you enjoying your therapy? I think maybe you need a break from this treatment. Do you think you need a break?"
Knowing the correct response this time, Jordan tried desperately to force air into his lungs to answer, and to make his limp jaw work. "No, no, no, no break, I don't... I don't need a break, no..." His head collapsed back onto the table and he shut his eyes.
"Well, I'm very disappointed to hear that, Jordan. I already said I thought you needed a break. If you had just agreed, I would have gladly given it to you. The fact that you're not listening to the advice of your treating physician tells me that you're still very ill. Now I think you need more therapy." She put her hand over the subject's mouth to stifle his protests.
To the two nurses, she said, "Continue the treatment, and don't be afraid to increase the intensity. This young man still needs a great deal of help. I'll be back in a few hours." She again exited the room, and the door locked behind her.
Nurse Hayes looked down at Jordan and smiled. "Well, you are just all kinds of stupid, aren't you, boy? She was going to give you a break, and instead now you have the rest of the afternoon with us." She began kneading just above his hipbone with one hand, and let the other reach down to his foot and and scratch furiously. "I think you'll be a very sorry boy by the time we're done with you. Sorry for all the bad things you did to get sent here. Sorry for all the trouble you gave our doctors. Sorry for all the trouble you gave poor Dr. Reimer for not responding to the treatment, and sorry for the bad thoughts you had about Janice and us other nurses. Are you sorry yet, you little shit? Is someone a very sorry little boy?"
The sounds Jordan was making could have been "yes" or a "no" at this point, but it was pretty clear that he was beyond resistance. The muscle relaxant couldn't stop him from moving as much as the straps allowed, but they did keep his muscles from cramping. This was good; otherwise they really would have had to give him a break by now.
As Nurse Hayes kept working on his hipbones and his feet, Nurse Steubin walked up to the head of the table again and bent over Jordan's face. "And you have something else to be sorry for too, you disobedient little boy. I told you that I wanted you looking me in the eye the entire time you were on that table. Well, if I'm not mistaken, you disobeyed me when you looked at Dr. Reimer when she was talking to you. Didn't you?" She began lightly scratching Jordan's upper arms and his armpits. "Didn't you?" She continued until Jordan had begun nodding his head in the affirmative, and he was staring with an agonized intensity into Nurse Steubin's eyes.
"Maybe somebody has the hots for Dr. Reimer," Nurse Hayes said from the foot of the table as she scratched in between the subject's toes.
Never breaking eye contact, Nurse Steubin asked, "Is that true, you pathetic little weakling? Do you have a little crush on pretty Dr. Reimer?" She watched as Jordan desperately shook his head and tried to say "no" through his silent laughter. "I don't think he's being totally honest with us, Andrea. I think maybe we need to persuade him to tell the truth." She moved her hands back to his collarbones, and Nurse Hayes began attacking his sides again.
"Do you want Dr. Reimer, little boy? Do you? Do you?" They took turns asking, until Jordan stopped denying and started nodding his head.
Nurse Hayes softened the intensity. "Good, I'm glad you decided to be honest with us for once, you little punk. But now the real question is, since you've admitted you have the hots for Dr. Reimer, and we already know you have the hots for Nurse Steubin, which one do you want more?"
Both nurses smiled as they saw the subject's eyes widen at the question. Nurse Steubin bent down closer to Jordan's face and asked, "Yes, Jordan, which of us do you like better? Dr. Reimer or me?" She punctuated the question by digging into his collarbones and forcing another yelp out of him, even though he hadn't known there was any air left in his lungs. She felt the excited flush return as she watched the agony of his choice play out in his eyes. This time she didn't back away, and she didn't ease up on his collarbones either.
A few seconds later Jordan gave the only answer he could think of under such conditions, he stared into Nurse Steubin's eyes and said "You! You! Please, you!"
Nurse Steubin smiled a satisfied smile, but Nurse Hayes said, "What a naughty answer! I think this sexist little pervert is still just judging the hospital staff by our looks. Either that, or he's too much of a coward to give us the honest truth." She started scratching his armpits again. "I think you'd better rethink your answer, little boy. You like Dr. Reimer better than Janice, don't you?"
This time Nurse Steubin stayed silent, but she kept staring into Jordan's tortured eyes and smiling a cold smile of superiority. But Jordan wasn't in any state to come up with a plan; after a few seconds of Nurse Hayes at his armpits, he said, "Yes, I like Dr. Reimer...yes, yes!"
Nurse Steubin started mercilessly digging into his rib cage. "That means you lied before! You're a bad boy for lying! Are you a little liar? Are you? Are you?" Each time she asked she squeezed one of Jordan's ribs, and Nurse Hayes poked his armpits. "Are you? Are you?" They taunted in unison.
Jordan's body didn't seem to be listening to his brain anymore, he was writhing like an epileptic and the sounds he was making were well beyond human understanding. He couldn't even keep his eyes on Nurse Steubin's anymore, his head just shook limply from side to side and his eyelids fluttered.
Just then the door clicked open and Eileen reentered the room. She nodded to the nurses and they stepped away from the table. She approached Jordan and waited for him to open his eyes. She looked over his body, drenched in sweat and still quivering, then looked deep into his eyes that had been so full of cocky charm and rebellion earlier today. Now they was only submission and fear. She smoothed his hair again and said "Well Jordan, what do you say now? Would you like the treatment to continue, or do you want to rest now?"
The subject couldn't answer; he just stared into space and shook his head. "I...please...just...please..." he said in a barely audible whisper. Neither affirmative nor negative, just...compliant.
Eileen nodded to the two nurses, who undid the straps and lowered Jordan's arms. He was still too paralyzed from the muscle relaxant to move much on his own, so they gently placed him in the recovery position, detached the IV and wiped his face with a damp cloth. Eileen pressed the intercom and summoned two orderlies to wheel the patient back to his room. He'd sleep for the next several hours.
Once he was out of the room, Eileen turned to Nurses Hayes and Steubin. "You both did an excellent job. I was watching the entire treatment, and we have the whole thing recorded for posterity."
Nurse Hayes was smiling broadly. "And the way he responded...you were right, it really seems to work better when we use verbal abuse and taunts."
Eileen smiled back. "Yes, the therapeutic effect was achieved remarkably fast this time. From his neurological sensitivity and his psychological background, it should have taken at least 30% longer. The entire treatment done in less than hour. You two have a talent for overstimulation that I can't overstate."
Nurse Steubin spoke up. "I hope you didn't mind the sexual innuendo I added. I was just improvising, I thought it would get a good response from him."
"Not at all, it was perfect. For young men like this, any situation will be laced with sexual innuendo. It can be... therapeutic to turn it against them." She cocked her head. "As I'm sure you're aware of." Nurse Steubin managed not to blush, but her eyes betrayed her embarrassment.
Nurse Hayes said, "What about the next subject? I can't wait to try this again."
"Not yet. This is a small, controlled study. We need to keep working with the same subject for now. We need to see whether the therapeutic effects last or not, whether he responds even more positively next time, whether there are any side effects to this method that we aren't anticipating...it's looking very good so far, but we shouldn't let that blind us."
Eileen began walking toward her office with the two nurses in tow. "Nurse Steubin, I want constant monitoring of the subject's behaviour tonight. If he's awake, I want notes on what he's doing, whether he's improved, how responsive he's being... We need as much data as possible." She walked in and shut the door behind her. The nurses exchanged a crafty smile and went about their duties.
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Initial results extremely promising. Malleability and submissiveness both enhanced by abusive behaviour. The fact that the researcher herself is not the source of the abuse allows the subject to project the image of 'protective caregiver' onto the treating physician, promising a better therapeutic response to later treatments.
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Alone in her office, Eileen Reimer smiled, leaned back in her chair and shut her eyes. It was days like today that she lived for as a doctor, another depressed, angry young soul helped by her therapy. The healing process was a beautiful thing.
And there was still so much data to gather.
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