Getting the GED Ch. 05 and Epilogue

He started to shake as he tried to think of all that happened over few days. He recalled the needle jab after leaving the Kit Kat Sunday morning, after that things were jumbled. He was fairly sure that several people were in on his abuse. His very sore butt reminded him of the plug jammed up his ass and the later anal rape. The bondage, sensory deprivation and verbal abuse had taken its toll on his mind and body. He was afraid of the warning given him, it was too realistic to be random. Was he going to be tracked wherever he went? What was once pleasurable was now too painful to be enjoyable. Would he ever feel good again. He felt he needed medical attention but didn't want the police involved or the shame of the rape filed away into some computer database. He called his personal doctor and had his answering service page him. He could trust Dr. Winslow to handle this confidentially.

A couple of minutes passed before he heard his physician come on the line. After giving him a very abbreviated version of his woes, he arranged to meet him in an hour at his office. Depending on that outcome, he tried to formulate his other plans.

He wanted to get away somewhere where he could feel safe and secure. His credit cards were surely being followed and they might even be following his car by GPS. And then it hit him, he was through. Wherever he would go, he wouldn't be safe. They were sure to be tracking him for at least the next year or more to be sure that he was "behaving" himself.

He went into his bathroom, stripped off his robe and took a very hot shower trying to erase the memory of his torture. He washed his face, scrubbing with a facecloth to get all the lipstick off. A quick hop out of the shower, a confirming look in the mirror and back into the soothing spray, getting himself ready to face his doctor. He wanted to know if he was medically okay. Mentally was another story. He needed someone who could help clear his mind of this disaster. Maybe his doctor could help him with a recommendation.

He got out of the shower, towel dried and dressed in record time. He couldn't wait for the tests. His worst fears were plaguing him and the quicker he could get those results back, the sooner he would be on the road to recovery. On the drive over, he stopped at an ATM as he didn't want this appointment to go through his insurance company. Slipping his card into the machine, he started to shake again. Would it be rejected as insufficient funds, had they already wiped him out? After punching in his pin number twice from his shaking hands, the machine accepted his third attempt and let him withdraw the maximum $400. He felt a little better since they hadn't compromised his account. Maybe at least this part would be okay.

He stopped his car in front of the medical building, shut off the engine and started crying again. His fears overtook his rational mind again as he got out of his car and called his physician to let him inside.

Before he could sit down and explain what happened, Dr. Winslow said he wanted to check him out physically for anything that needed immediate care. He stripped off his shirt, kicked off his loafers and lowered his pants. When he turned away to hang up his trousers, Tucker heard his doctor give a throaty chuckle. He whipped around to find would what was so funny. He didn't know about the word "SLUT" and the arrow pointing to his rectum that Jana had left on his back.

His doctor told him to sit down and tell him what this was all about. As Tucker began telling him the events that brought him there, the thoughts collapsed into a jumble and he began sobbing again. He couldn't fill in the gaps and was too scared to get the story out coherently. Shaking his head, Dr. Winslow told him to stand still and he would check him out. Unsure what to make of the marking on his back, the doctor let out a small gasp when he did a cursory rectal exam. His sphincter was still swollen and tender. Having worked at a walk-in clinic once a week for several years, he recognized the signs of heavy anal fucking. What was new to the doctor was that in all the years of treating Bob Tucker, he never had an inkling that he swung that way. He had some knowledge that Tucker led a pretty debauched lifestyle, but this kink was new. Bob tried to say he was raped but his emotions overtook him again.

Dr. Winslow asked him if his multiple partners used condoms when they fucked him. This shook Bob up even more. Multiple partners, what really happened during the blackouts? Had many men shot cum up his ass? This shook him up even more. He could remember one guy, but didn't think the guy even came. Then the memory of the butt plug came flooding back. He tried to explain about the kidnapping, the bondage, butt plug and rape but everything was again jumbled.

Dr. Winslow took pity on his longtime patient and figured that maybe it wasn't as he surmised. He gave him a very mild sedative to help Bob relax and had him lie down on the exam table. He took a blood sample for his in-office lab, probed his colon for any semen but knew that it was probably long gone as evidence. He hoped that he was wrong, that this was a case of abuse and not some new perversion. After he completed the examination, he let Bob sleep while he formulated what to do with his patient.

He wanted to allay Tucker's fears but wouldn't be certain about any contracted disease for awhile. How could he handle this given the mental state of his patient. He knew that there was no local family and since he was now retired, had no work contacts either. Morally he was obligated to give him a wholly honest answer. Without any network of support from family or friends, Dr. Winslow wanted to give him the news as gently as possible without completely breaking him mentally. He called a psychiatrist that he professionally and personally knew that would be able to help Bob Tucker.

While keeping this confidential but doing what was ultimately best for Bob, the two physicians decided a private care facility for at least 72 hours would help him decompress and get back to whatever would pass for normalcy given all that he had been through. Another drug was administered to keep him from waking up too soon. After making the necessary call, an ambulance was summoned to take to take him to the facility. The drivers got him onto the gurney and checked in within the hour.

Twelve hours later Bob Tucker awoke in the sterile environment of the Happy Dale Rest Home, strapped to the bed with an IV in his arm. He screamed and a nurse came right in. She softly closed the door to his room. Sticking part of the pillow into his mouth to muffle his voice, she now had a chance to really look him over.

She thought she had recognized Bob Tucker from her earlier rounds but he had given her an alias that night so many years ago when she had met him in a bar. He was all sweet talk and romance and she had no hesitancy about meeting him back at her apartment. She had gone through a rough breakup and need some comfort and care. He must have realized her vulnerability as he got her naked into her own bed. He quickly used his belt and the bedsheets to restrain her and after giving her a hard fucking, pulled her legs up and plowed into her virgin ass. She was sobbing hysterically and begged him to stop. That was almost music to his ears. He sadistically used her body for the next several hours and left her battered, bound and bruised on top of her bed. The phone was within reach but he told her not to call the police if she knew what was good for her. She gave him about ten minutes and then called a girlfriend for help.

That was the worst night of her life and left her too afraid to have any relationships for several years. She swore that if she ever met him again, he would regret it. She bent over, with a slight grin on her face, and whispered in his ear, "Hey Bastard, meet your new nightmare. No painkillers for you, I want you to enjoy this."

The end