“This is our visitation Ward.” Dr. Malphren explained. “Sometimes our clients like to visit their patients over the course of their treatment…but it also serves as our showroom, so our clients have some idea of the services we offer.”

“These are just our more common requests, of course, but our clients seem to enjoy it. Besides, this is the quickest way to the rest of the wards, and I do love seeing my patient’s reactions as I wheel them past. I haven’t yet decided if its better to explain what they’re seeing to them or not…but since you’re getting the full tour, I’ll be thorough.”

The first cell held an androgynous figure in a tight, strapless latex dress and high heels. They wouldn't look out of place in the average nightclub, except for the shiny brass padlock hanging from the dress where it formed a collar around their neck, making removal impossible. Even then, they could pass for normal in a more risque setting, if it weren’t for the high hairline seemingly intentionally styled to show off the lobotomy scar and the two small burns on their temples from electroshock therapy...or the complete and utter absence of any and all life or emotion in the eyes. They were simply empty, like a child’s doll. As Dr. Malphren wheeled Nikita closer, she saw the figure behind the glass, moving through an advanced yoga routine.
Nikita had never seen someone so flexible.

“This is Patient #38, showcasing our ‘Rasa’ treatment. After a complete mental reconstruction, their personality has been wiped clean, leaving nothing but a blank slate. Completely receptive to commands, which they’ll complete to the best of their ability. Over time, if you don’t stop them, they’ll start to develop emotions, then a rudimentary personality. Some of our clients enjoy molding their patient as they see fit.”

Dr. Malphren, apparently finished with her demonstration, wheeled Nikita further down the hall. The next cell held a young woman, kneeling, her body criss-crossed with straps and rope. Cuffs, gags, coils of rope, and other restraints hung from the walls and were scattered over the floor.

“One of our most popular treatments is Fetish Conditioning. Patient #58 was scheduled for involuntary committal by her boyfriend who was getting bored in the bedroom. Said she wasn’t kinky enough. Well, we sorted that out, and sent her home to her boyfriend…only for her to call us a few weeks later! Apparently now HE wasn’t kinky enough for HER! Well, we were more than happy to admit him…and since she had her own urges, she happily signed up to be committed herself! A win-win for everyone, wouldn’t you agree?”

Nikita struggled to vocalize a response as the tour continued and a fresh horror was revealed. The next cell was padded like the others, but instead of soft white cotton, the walls and floor were lined in slick, shiny, black rubber. Inside were two figures.
The first writhed around on the floor, every inch of skin smothered in a skintight catsuit, restrained in a straightjacket of matching rubber, and a thick steel collar, forced into a permanent frogtie by the suit. Built into the suit was a respirator, from which presented a socket of some kind; the was another matching socket built into the groin, both recessed so that they were flush. Behind the helpless figure was a cylinder, likewise trapped in a thick suit of black rubber, held helplessly in place by an inflated cushion of clear plastic, tubes and wires floating gently as they led to the mouth and groin of the helpless victim.

“These two were causing quite a bit of trouble for one of our clients…they needed to be taken out of the picture, but not permanently. Of course, we were happy to provide our services.” She gestured at the pair.
“We’ve found that sensory deprivation is the most efficient method of long term storage, although there’s two main methods. The tube is best for long term use, less space required, and low maintenance, but it’s only cost effective in the long run. The straightjacket setup is much cheaper and easier to set up, but requires greater care and attention be paid to the patient, and if you want to play with your food with any amount of frequency it's really the only option. Both patients are in custom-made rubber suits, 5mm thick to ensure a total visual and tactile blackout, with soundproofing and white noise to take away their hearing. Both are on a 100% liquid diet, hence the ports for intake and outtake. Electrodes built into the suits provide an electrical current to prevent muscle atrophy. Depending on the client’s requests, the strength and frequency can be changed from random, high-intensity shocks to a low, constant current that leads to perpetual soreness and fatigue. The suits also have a built-in vibrator, although that’s a pleasure these two are denied. So they’ll just have to stay like this until the client comes back to reclaim them, whenever that time comes. Fortunately for them, they’re on a regimen of drugs that stops them from forming long-term memories…so as tortuous as this is, when the time comes, they’ll be able to be released without anything…untoward coming to light. We can’t have that, now can we?”

With that, they moved on to the next cell. The decoration once again broke with tradition, with the floor colored a dark purple, the walls a light pink, with a pattern of shooting stars, rainbows, and unicorns. The ceiling was covered with glow-in-the-dark stars, and a mobile hung above the abnormally large crib. The floor was littered with stuffed animals, and there was a toy piano with rainbow-colored keys off to one side. The thought of a child being in this place horrified Nikita.

Of course, it was so much worse than that. The figure sitting in the middle of the room was full grown, wearing pink stirrup stockings and a matching frilly leotard, the fabric over the groin held in place with snaps for easy removal. The fabric around the shoulders poofed out, and frilled cuffs were locked around the wrists and ankles. A bib of dark purple rubber was strapped to the patient’s chest, partially hidden under brunette pigtails with pink highlights. She sat in the middle of the room, playing with a foam airplane, hugging a stuffed bunny with one arm. A faint “nyoooom” could be heard from inside.

“Patient 0525.” Dr. Malphren said by way of introduction. “Who, in this case, is doing a wonderful job demonstrating several of our services.” Dr. Malphren said, pointing to a picture mounted on the glass.
Nikita strained her head to see, but couldn’t believe her eyes. It was hard to imagine that the man in the picture was the same person in the cell. Dr. Malphren reached out and pushed two buttons on the side of the glass. A light switched on, turning the one-way mirror transparent.

“Hello, Patient #525.” Dr. Malphren said over the intercom.
The patient inside shot to her feet, hugging her stuffed bunny close.
“Hi, Dr. Mommy.” she said shyly, fidgeting.
“Patient #525 here has undergone a complete personality restructuring and gender reassignment, some of our most popular procedures, for both voluntary and involuntary committals. I suppose self-improvement is easier when you have me telling me how to do it.” Dr. Malphren said. She turned to her patient. “What do you think?”
“Ummmm…” Patient #525 said, chewing on her index finger, letting her stuffed bunny hang by its ears in her other hand. “A lot of those were big girl words, and Dr. Mommy says I don’t understand big girl words. But I like it when Dr. Mommy tells me what to do.” she said, blushing.

“And what does Dr. Mommy tell you to do?” Malphren asked, smiling.

“Dr. Mommy wants me to take my Good Girl Pills, and do what the nurses say. That way I’m a Good Girl, and Good Girls get Good Girl Stars!” Patient #525 recited, pointing to the gold stars stuck to her bib.
“Good girl!” Dr. Malphren cooed, then cocked her head at the piano. “Play something for us.”
“Yes, Dr. Mommy!”

Patient #525 happily skipped over to the piano, placing her bunny on top of it, giving Dr. Malphren a nervous smile. She laid her hands on the keys and gave Dr. Malphren one more nervous glance, before launching into a flurry of music, fingers dancing over the keys.

“Hungarian Rhapsody No. 6, by Franz Liszt.” Dr. Malphren whispered. “Considered by many to be one of the most complicated piano pieces ever written.” She looked down at Nikita. “Personally, I prefer ”Greensleeves”, but apparently that wasn’t impressive enough. She learned how to do that over 2 days. All thanks to our patented subliminal therapy. We’ve actually had some success breaking into the mainstream, through shell companies of course. CEOs and influencers, learning new languages and the like. It’s not a perfect substitute for old-fashioned learning, but I challenge you to find a better way to learn German over the course of a single afternoon.” She looked back at her patient. “That’s enough, thank you.”

Patient #525 bounded over, bunny in tow. “Did you like that, Dr. Mommy?”
“I did!” Malphren said sweetly. “You did a very good job. In fact, I’ll tell the nurses to give you another Good Girl Star!”
Patient #525 beamed. “Oh, thank you, Dr. Mommy! Thank you thank you thank you!”
Dr. Malphren smiled back. “Good girl. We need to go now, but I’ll be back later.”
“Ok!” Patient #525 said, waving goodbye and blowing a kiss. “Bye bye, Dr. Mommy!”
Dr. Malphren pushed the button again, shutting off the intercom and activating the one way mirror once again. As Dr. Malphren wheeled her deeper into the hospital, Nikita thought that she had seen everything. She should have known that it could always get worse. The next cell…there was no way the figure inside could be human, Nikita thought. Dr. Malphren switched on the intercom.

“It’s showtime, Patient #58.” The figure stirred, approaching the glass with some difficulty. With growing horror, Nikita could see why. Patient #58 had undergone surgery to a…significant extent.
The left calf and thigh had been grafted together, the foot surgically removed, a rubber plate installed in the kneecap to make crawling marginally more comfortable. The right leg had been bent in a literal dog leg, bipedal locomotion permanently impossible. The groin had been replaced with a smooth, featureless patch of skin, although the skin had been replaced, slick shiny plastic taking its place. The arms weren’t much better; one hand had been turned into permanent fist, fingers grafted together, where the other had been bonded to porcelain, transformed into a ball-jointed appendage, like a Victorian doll’s.

Two ports of shining metal emerged from the torso, and a small metal disc jutted from the skin just above the sternum, below a lock that seemed to go directly through the adam’s apple. The face was…barely recognizable as human.
A series of metal studs were inlaid into one side of the bald scalp, with two horns emerging from the other side, one a skin-covered pyramid jutting from the forehead, the other starting at the temple and curling back, the off-white color of bone.
As they moved, Nikita could see a D-ring at the back of the skull. And the face…one eye was a bright blue, the other an unnatural purple. As they drew closer, Nikita could see that it was heart-shaped. The lips and teeth were gone, the mouth transformed into a vagina, clitoris where the tip of the nose would be.

“This is Patient #791.” Dr. Malphren said. We call him Pincushion, because, well…”
“Yeah.” came the synthesized voice of the patient from the speaker implanted in his chest. “It gets funnier every time.”
Dr. Malphren giggled. “It does!” she admitted. She turned to Nikita.
"Pincushion is a demonstration of the talent of our surgery ward. I apologize if he seems lethargic, a quarter of his lungs have been cauterized and a pacemaker underclocks his heart rate, leaving him rather weak.”
“Thanks.” Pincushion said dryly.
“Oh, you are a lark.” Dr. Malphren laughed. “This is Nikita, by the way. I’m giving her the full tour before she selects her treatment.”
“Poor thing.” came the response, genuinely sympathetic. His gaze met Nikita’s. “Pick one that breaks your mind. It’s better that way.”
“Aw, is someone jealous?” Dr. Malphren teased. “He’s still in command of his faculties, unlike most of the other patients.” She said by way of explanation. “That way he can answer any questions my clients have.”
“Yayyy.” Pincushion droned sarcastically.
“That’s enough out of you.” Dr. Malphren said, switching off the intercom. She turned to Nikita. “Well? What do you think of my showroom?” Without waiting for a response, she grabbed the handles of the wheelchair, pushing Nikita out of the room, deeper into the hospital.
“Don’t you worry,” she cooed. “The tour’s just getting started…”