Author's Note: Dear Reader, I submit this story for publication, not that I expect a single person to believe it’s true in any aspect, but because I must write it down to sort out the events that it relates, if only for my own sanity. It is for my own therapy that I write, not for your enjoyment. Comment on it as you see fit - it is of no concern to me. -Darios. 10/12/84 ...
Author's Note: I’m very interested in reading your comments on this story. Thanks! -Darios Last session of the weekend. It’s four o’clock in the morning and I’m beat, but I’ve managed to stay awake to monitor 2301 through the peephole in the cell door. My patient has been very still for the past half an hour, and I hope she was able to get some sleep. I like for her to sleep, if only for the sense of disorientation her awakening will give her. So I had given her the opportunity, but the vibrators strapped tightly in place may have prevented any real relaxation on her part. Besides that, sleeping in the straight jacket is none too easy, but I know for a fact that she’s done it in the past. ...
“Have you been in my room?” Peggy demanded, her voice sounding extremely confrontational. The short, squat woman looked at her beautiful landlady through her thick glasses, a look of rage on her face. Janice looked at her tenant and laughed. “Why in the world would I want to go in there? I make an effort to avoid that part of the house for fear of coming down with the swine flu.” ...
Author's Note: This is not a typical genre for me and is my first attempt at both “first person” and F/m. The story was inspired by recent circumstances that forced me to have a physical exam performed by a female doctor (long story). This is purely fiction, folks, written in four parts for the enjoyment of those on the site who are into F/m. Update (2012/02/09): Final segment in this story. I hope you all enjoyed it! Please submit comments via comments section or to me directly at [email protected]. Thanks, Darios ...
Part One The blackness was all encompassing, as was the silence. Carly could hear her own breathing, but that was all. She was used to it, and the sensation of isolation no longer affected her as it once did. She was not alone, she knew, someone was outside the box, somewhere, watching her. The young woman lay perfectly still on the black slab of hard plastic that served as her bed. She knew that to move would provoke pain. It took only a few movements, long ago, to demonstrate the pain to her. It was like everything else she was required to do in the box: follow the precise instruction or feel the pain. ...