Cuckoo's Nest

She drove P.C.'s body against the floor once again. She put him into a half-nelson, pressing his head against the floor. She lowered her man-fucker into the crack of his ass and began to rock it back and fourth like a hot dog happily nested in its bun.

She began to lick his crack up and down, swirling her tongue swirling around his anus, flickering it in and out of that delicate orifice, soon to be so cruelly violated. She listened to him gasp in helpless delight at this very prospect. She reached below him, running a finger around each of his nipples, her tongue resuming its trajectory down his spine. She reached even lower, seizing his balls and throbbing cock in her hands. She began to rhythmically squeeze his cojones and slid her hand up and down his well-lubricated mighty cock. At the same time she thrust deeply into his anus.

Pin Cushion winced as she dominated him. For a moment, he thought she would tear him apart. But then he relaxed, as Rhonda coaxed him into complete submission, licking his ear as his anus dilated into a serviceable cunt.

She thrust into him brutally with her newfound cock, driving it ten inches into his colon. He gasped at her violation of his body.

"Would you like your head fucked as I stroke you?" she asked her unworthy slave, as she continued to pump his precum-lubricated, yearning shaft.

"Hai, Mistress-sama." Pin Cushion said.

Rhonda looked around the room until she spotted the erected foot-long of one Harley Long Rider, who sported a motorcycle vest and nothing else. "Would you like to do the honors?." She asked the Dennis Hopper wannabe. He grinned and grabbed Pin Cushion's head in both hands. "Open real wide," he advised P.C in his best dental hygienist voice., and assumed the cobra asana of yoga, raising his mouth to the level of Harley's jutting meat pounder. Harley drew back and slammed his gargantuan shaft into P.C's. head. "Yahoo," he said over and over. "This is how Harvey Long Rider gives head, punk You riding on the Harley train now, worm. Yippee Ki Yoo Ka Yay." He waved an imaginary Stetson above his head.

Rhonda continued to slide her well-practiced hand up and down Pin Cushion's well-lubricated shaft, and she continued to squeeze his balls with her other hand.

Pin Cushion knew that if he came too soon, he would be punished severely. Rhonda slid her head back down to Pin Cushion's crack, licking it like crazy and squeezing his tortured testicles, which could be denied no longer. P.C. exploded in a sea of sperm of Alice in Wonderland proportions that threatened to drown Harley Long Rider, but fortunately just knocked him off his feet.

Dr. Spivey patted Rhonda on her back. "Congratulations, Rookie, you have just passed your admissions interview. You are now officially an inmate of our humble insane asylum.

"If that was your admissions interview, I'd hate to see your fraternity hazings." Rhonda spread Spivey's hospital gown, revealing his muscular torso. She wiped her semen-covered hands off on his hard pecs, which Rhonda knew were more likely a manifestation of Flynn's Skin than of many hours in the gym.

Spivey threw his arm over he shoulders, and began to lead her down the hallway. "Come let me show you the rest of our state-of-the-art medical facility, which is named the Woody Allen Institute for Creative Paraphilia after that illustrious comedian, patron of the arts, man about town , bon vivant, and our prime benefactor

They came upon a seven-foot Indian, who stood erect against a wall and whose eyes were focused on some distant sight to which Rhonda and Spivey were not privy.

"We call him 'Chief' on accounta him being an Injun and all," Spivey explained.

McMurphy popped a contraband stick of spearmint gum that an inmate had handed through the bars of his cell. into his mouth and began to chew it vigorously . "Hey Chief, how's the weather up there?" Rhonda asked, with a Jack Nicholson smile on her face.

"You're wasting your time on that one," Spivey told the new Rookie. "He ain't talked or moved in the 19 years I have been associated with this proud snake pit. He' what they call a genuine catatonic schizophrenic.

"That right?" Rhoda said. "We'll just see about that,"

She flipped the Chief's gown open to reveal his jutting ten-incher.

"Well lookie here, it looks like the Chief has brought along his very own totem pole," she exclaimed in delight.

"Be careful, he's what them Injuns call a skinwalker, a brujo, a shape-shifting witch," Spivey told the new rookie.

"He can change into any animal. he wants. He has been known by many names and has a huge number of film credits to his name.

"He has been known as Chief Dan George, Graham Greene, Kicking Bird, the legendary Navaho policemen Joe Leaphorn and Jim Chee, the Comanche leader Ten Bears in the Outlaw Josey Wales portrayed by the aptly named Will Sampson), and the seven-foot Ute tribal policeman Charlie Moon. His shapeshifting ability allowed him to play the tile in the movie Little Big Man, although he was stretched to the limits in have to maintain the illusion that he was a short white actor called Dustin Hoffman. His work as an understudy for Richard Harris in the film A Man Called Horse was greatly enhanced by his ability to transform into an actual horse, which Harris could not do.

He also played the title role in two Lassie movies. The director said he had a much greater grasp of the script than would an actual collie. In fact, he was awarded two Pawscars (academy awards for animals sponsored by the American Humane Association), He was unfairly stripped of the awards due to the technicality that he was a human shapeshifter and not a real animal

Rhonda looked at the big Indian's pilgrim schtupper, which she thought might betray a trace of Sasquatch ancestry. She was at eye level with said organ, and she reached out to grab it and bring it to her lips. "Mmmm, you do not taste like an apple, big guy," which she knew was the Indian term corresponding to black term oreo (red on the outside but white on the inside.) "You're more like a maraschino cherry, red all the way to the center and sweet all the way through.

She brought the hood of the redskin giant's totem pole to her lips, and began to run her tongue around it as she reached down to cup his bowling balls, squeezing them as she pumped his well-oiled shaft. She thought she heard the Brobdingnagian catatonic gasp as she stretched her jaws and plunged the giant's mushroom head deeply down her throat, giving it a tongue-lashing worthy of a diamondback rattler.

She gave herself to the Flynn Skin, assuming the shape of a reticulated python (which would not be out of place in any Florida suburb). She wrapped herself around the acromegalic aboriginal's shaft and began to squeezing it rhythmically as she dislocated her jaw and took the first couple of feet of penis meat into her alimentary canal, which was already stuffed with two goats, swallowed earlier in the day. She pulsated back and forth until the redskin came, blowing the Rhonda snake clean off his body.

She slithered back over to the Chief, and resumed her human form. She looked up at him, and saw a newfound twinkle in his eyes. The corner of his lips turned into a nascent smile.

"Hah, Chief," she said. "I knew it. I got you to move, didn't I? Goddammit, you've been playing with us all along, ain't you chief? McMurphy said, slapping her hand against the wall in pure delight.

GROUP THERAPY

"Well, let us resume our tour," Spivey said, throwing an arm over Rhonda's reinstated shoulders. He began to lead her down the corridor once more. "Here we have one of our group therapy sessions, led by Nurse Crochet, whom I believe you have already met. He steered her into the wire-encased therapy room. Nurse Crotchet was in the middle of a hatchet job on poor old stuttering Billy Bibbit. She reached into Billy's lap and held up his flaccid poor excuse for a penis for all to see.

"Is this your wee wee, Billy?"

"Y-y-yes, ma'am," Billy stammered, but he smiled for at last being at last a center of attention. "Tell me, Billy have you ever even been kissed by a girl?"

Billy lowered his curly-haired head. "N-n-no, ma'am," Billy said. Then his face brightened, "But did I get anally raped eighteen times during my intake interview."

"Well, that's at least something, Nurse Crotchet said.

"Billy how, did you feel when I held up your wee wee-wee, and every body laughed at you?"

"A-a-a-angry." Billy said.

"Did you want to slap me, Billy?"

"N-n-no, Nurse Crotchet."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, maybe a little," Billy said.

"Go ahead and do it." Nurse Crotchet said.

"D-d-do what?"

"You know, slap me."

"Oh I couldn't."

Crotchet slapped Billy across the face, and smiled. Rhonda McMurphy could see that the demons surrounding the of them were getting more and more restless. She knew that they were only her own schizophrenic hallucinations, or least that's what people kept telling her.

When Billy slapped Crotchet, she smiled.

"That's a first step," Crotchet told the stuttering inmate, and hit him with a right cross.

Billy got to his feet and hit her right on the chin with a spinning backfist, a technique he had learned in the Allen Institute's gymnasium.

He raised his fists in a Rocky Balboa triumph pose. "Down goes Crotchet. Down goes Crotchet," he said in his best Howard Cosell announcer's voice.

She threw Billy a rope, "Do you want to tie me up and punch the living shit out of me?"

"Well maybe a little, Nurse Crotchet," Billy acknowledged, "if you don't mind."

Crotchet gave him a lecherous smile. "Oh, I don't mind at all, sweetie, Well, what are all you useless dweebs just standing around? Does this guy look like an expert in knot-tying.."

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of fingernails screeching down a blackboard. The owner of said nails, a literally salty-looking dude with a maniacal gleam in his eyes, stepped into the light, They all knew him as Bartholomew Marion Quint, a shark hunter and consultant to most of the S&M joints in the surrounding area. .

"You all know me, what I do for a living," he told the assembled mob. He tossed a piece rope tied into a bowline knot to one of the assembled lunatics. "What is that called?" he asked the lunatic holding the rope. The lunatic did not reply. "That's what I thought. I'll have to do it myself just like the last twenty times.

"Grab this bitch and hogtie her," he told the frenzied mob. Several inmates stepped forward, to grab Nurse Crotchet by the wrists and ankles and force her into a spread-eagle position, sunny-side down. Quint tied her limbs to the eyehooks that were standard issue in all Allen Institute rooms. Quint even wrapped a noose around Crotchet's neck in case she was in a mood for autoerotic asphyxiation, which she so often was.

"OK, Billy," Crotchet said. "Prove to me that you're a man. Rape the living shit out of me. Hurt me. Make me yours."

Billy's Crochet rocket began to swell. Nurse Crotchet said, "That's my boy. Feel the Skin. Become the Skin. Let the Skin surround you. Give yourself to the Skin."

Billy did exactly that, and his nurse poker rose to a height of thirteen inches.

"Ram it into me Billy. Ignore my screams. Keep it going no matter what I say."

Billy's Skin-reinforced pussy plunker began to throb unmercifully. and he buried it in Crotchet's love canal. He pulled it out and then rammed into her once again.

"Please stop. You're gonna rip me apart."

"Y-y-you-said I sh-sh-should never stop, Nurse Crotchet."

"My bad. I stand corrected. Please continue, by all means."

Billy hauled back and pierced her cunt to unprecedented depths. He felt her voluptuous backside writhing in a twerk-like motion beneath him. He pulled out to tease her, lay his cock in the crack of her delightful, willing ass and rocked it back and forth in her groove until he could wait no longer and rammed it into her again.

"Hold my hands," Nurse Crotchet told Billy. He interlaced his fingers with hers, which were still bound in the Gordian knot tied by good ole Bart Quint.

"Lick my neck, Billy."

He obliged by running his tongue over the brown skin and fine down of the nape or her neck.

"Ram me, Billy. Over and over again. Don't stop until you can't tell whether I am dead or alive."

"O-O-OK" Billy said, and crossed the metaphorical moat to assault her castle door with his battering ram.

Billy began to run his tongue over the erotogenic folds of Nurse Crotchet's left ear.

"I love you Billy," the psychiatric nurse told her patient. " I will never let you go. Now, plough me with your John Deere. Uproot me baby. Throw my boulders. Grind me into dust."

Billy rammed his pile driver into Crotchet's deepest furrow, and she cried out in pain and pleasure. He squeezed her fingers with his own, and nipped her earlobe as he gave himself to the sea of desire that completely overwhelmed him. He came inside her like a high pressure hose taking down a nonviolent protester in Montgomery, Alabama in the 1960s.

The force of his jism drove Nurse Crotchet clean across the room, drowning in a sea semen of cum. Pushing herself off the iron mesh she crawled on her tummy to Billy, rested her head on his lap and took his shaft into her mouth once again.

"I will always love you, Nurse Crochet," Billy said.

"Don't be silly, Billy," Crotchet mumbled. That's just something you say when you're cumming. You've got your whole life in front of you. One of the core principles that guide us here at the Allen Institute if that you need to grab all the poontang you can. Here comes some now!" She pointed to the well-endowed BBW making a beeline toward them.

ELECTROSHOCK

Then came an announcement over the intercom.

"Rhonda McMurphy, please report at once to the electroshock treatment lab."

"Don't sweat it. It's fun", Crotchet said.

"What are they going to do to me?" Rhonda asked anxiously.

Crotchet laid her hand on Rhonda forearm in a reassuring manner. "Don't sweat it, honey. They just run a few volts through your brain, that's all. I've had it a million times. I usually go there right lunch to get to get re-zapped. But you don't want to go there after lunch, believe me."

"What does it do to your brain?

"It simplifies it, Gets rid of those bothersome higher level thoughts. You're going to love it."

She stopped an intern with a name tag reading 'Delgado.' She quoted the fist verse of national anthem: "Jose.. can you see...this patient right away."

"Can do, Nurse Crotchet," he said, clicking his heels together in a manner that would have pleased the still-deceased Generalissimo Francisco Franco.

He led her though a frosted glass window. "Welcome to our humble electroshock lab," he said, removing his robe to reveal his Allen Institute standard-issue erection. He took a seat in a leather chair at one end of the electroshock gurney. "Sit right down on my cock," he said. Rhonda straddled him in the leather chair. and bounced up and down buying the full length of his shaft in her vajayjay

"OK, now put on the helmet."

Rhonda donned the helmet, which sported a large number of wires and dials and lights, much like the helmets worn by Richard Burton and Linda Blair in widely excoriated film Exorcist II to achieve a mind-meld.. Jose smeared a conducting cream in the appropriate places on her head. "Little dab'll do ya," Rhonda observed. Then he helped her snap the electrodes into the appropriate connections.

He put a second helmet over his own head. "You're going to do it too?" Rhonda him.

"You may have perhaps noticed that we don't hold firm and fast to the distinction between inmates and staff here at the Allen Institute."

"I've noticed, I've noticed," Rhonda said.

Jose pulled an airplane-style breathing mask from underneath the table and put it to his face. He began laughing and handed the mask to Rhonda. "What is it? she asked the electroshock technician.

"Nitrous oxide. Laughing gas, for those who are not biochemically inclined." He handed her the mask. Go ahead. Take a hit off it.

Rhonda laughed and Jose passed her another mask, this one filled with a blue vapor. "What's this?" the newly-admitted inmate asked the electroshock technician. .

"Freon. You know the stuff that keeps your refrigerator cold." Rhonda took a hit off the Freon mask and felt herself becoming even more light-headed.

Jose passed her a flask of a bright blue bubbling liquid with dry ice style smoke of the type encountered in Grade B Frankenstein movies emanating from it. "What's this?"

"Oh, that's a mixture of Ayahuasca, and Colt 45 malt liquor, laced with LSD, roofies, and angel dust. You gotta chug the whole flask .. Just let it slide down your throat like an oyster.

"Homey don't do oysters," Rhonda informed Jose. "But I'm no killjoy," she said and downed the whole flask in single chug. She put her hand in her armpit, and flapped her arm three times, punctuated by vocalizations of "Nit, Nit, Nit" a la Jack Nicholson in Easy Rider.

"Wheeoo," Jose yelled.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," the Hispanic electroshock tech told the new inmate. "Wait until you get a load of this, your first .electric brain fry."

Jose flipped a switch, and 500 volts of electricity passed through their brains. It was like being in a bright white light of consciousness in which there were no pesky things such as facts, or unfulfilled wishes, or pain.

"Hit it again?" Jose asked Rhonda.

"You betcha, big guy" she told her wetback tech lover.

Jose flipped the switch again. This time, his cock went through many anomalous motions, partially rotating and contracting and expanding like a meat pogo stick shoved up her cooz . For its part, said cooz sent ripples of pleasure up and down her sugar walls. Waves of pleasure passed up and down her body, They entered a realm in which there was no Rhonda and no Jose, only a perfect state of Godlike bliss. "You like that? Jose asked his new paramour.

"Mmmm," Rhonda said,

You know I invented this process of electrical stimulation of brain way back in the Sixties. I can make you move any muscle I want. You are powerless to stop me. In 1965 I stopped a charging bull on the dime, tuning his from a raging beast into a pussycat.

"Want me to fry your brain once again.?"

"Mmmm,"Rhonda told the Hall of Fame brain fryer "You betcha."

Ronda nestled into his shoulder, and he hit the switch again. It goes without saying that a wonderful afternoon was had by all. .

APOCALYPSE PDQ

When McMurphy was able to tear herself from her new Hispanic squeeze, she adopted a retarded look and shuffled past the Chief in her best zombie gait, with about of foot of drool hanging off her lower lip.. The Chief was still in the catatonic posture of a seven foot, wooden dime-store Indian. The big guy looked alarmed at Rhonda's state, or at least as alarmed as a taciturn cataleptic redskin can get. But when she winked at him, the corner of his mouth again twitched in the beginning of a smile.

"I had you going there for a minute, Chief," she said. " I'm a fellow traveler in the prankster department."

She looked out at the unruly mob banging on the wire fence surrounding the Allen Institute. Nurse Crotchet came up behind her to rub her shoulders. "Why do they hate us so much?" Rhonda asked the psychiatric nurse.

"They don't hate us," Crotchet said. "They envy us. That fence is not there to keep us in, but to keep them out. They know a good deal when the see it. Four squares a day. All the sex you can eat (or fuck, depending on your own proclivities). All the electro-sex you could ever want. All the possible cybersex scenarios, including virtual reality and not-so-virtual reality, gene splicing, stem cell enhanced shape-shifting . You would have to be crazy to turn down a deal like that."