The Ishtar Institute

The Ishtar Institute was a small research hospital located in the hills west of Stanford. While it did admit some regular patients, it mostly existed to support the work of Dr. Vasilov, a neuroscientist who was privately funded by several Silicon Valley billionaires. There were only a few dozen physicians on staff, most of them neurologists or neurosurgeons. Although it was technically administered by a board of governors, in practice Dr. Vasilov ran the institute as his personal fief, making all hiring decisions and funding decisions himself.

Dr. Jane Reston was in her early thirties. She'd joined the institute only a few months before, shortly after completing her endocrinology residency at Cedars Sinai. Brilliant, intense, and driven, Dr. Reston was clearly a rising star in her field. She'd met Dr. Vasilov the previous year at a conference in Prague, and he'd extended a job offer to her shortly afterwards.

In many respects her position at the institute was a dream job--interesting cases, light rotations, a good salary. The only drawbacks were her colleagues.

Dr. Vasilov might have been a genius, but he wasn't particularly progressive in his hiring practices. There were only a handful of female physicians on staff, and many of Jane's male colleagues were blatantly sexist. They bragged about sleeping with nurses and compared notes about attractive female patients. Perhaps the worst was Kevin Stoddard, the staff gynecologist. He'd been at the institute only a few months longer than Jane had, but he was invariably condescending and patronizing whenever they had to interact.

It didn't help that Jane herself was slim and blonde and classically pretty. With her big blue eyes and fresh complexion, she looked ten years younger than she actually was--more like a first-year medical student than a senior physician. As a result, Jane was quite familiar with being talked down to by men who underestimated her. It wasn't fair, but sadly that was how the world worked. Jane had spent her whole life working longer and harder than the men around her in order to prove that she was their equal. At this point, it was just second nature.

Jane knew that Stoddard was attracted to her. She had often caught him staring at her legs on days when she wore a skirt. To be honest, he wasn't bad-looking himself. He had kind of brooding, brutish appeal. If he hadn't been such an asshole, Jane could imagine that something might have happened between them

It was late on a Friday afternoon and Jane was just about to head home after a long shift, when she checked in on Erica Andrews. Erica had been a biochemist at the institute until she had left on maternity leave. Now she was back temporarily as a patient. Her pregnancy was almost full-term, and when Jane entered the room, Erica was standing at the window with one hand resting on her full round belly. She was looking out at the scrubby Northern California hills. She was also completely naked.

Taken aback, Jane said "Uh, Erica, is everything okay ...?"

"I'm just more comfortable this like this," the other woman said. She gestured dismissively at the discarded hospital gown on the bed. "Those things are so revealing, there's no point anyway."

"Let me just check your vitals and I'll be out of here," Jane said.

Quickly she took Erica's temperature and measured her blood pressure. Both were totally normal. She was just about to ask if the expectant mother had any concerns when she was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door and Kevin Stoddard entered.

"Dr. Stoddard!" Jane said.

"Dr. Reston," the male gynecologist replied curtly. "Could you leave me alone with my patient. Your assistance is neither needed nor desired."

Jane slipped quietly out of the room. As the door closed behind her, she caught a glimpse of Erica lying on flat her back in bed with her legs spread. Stoddard was standing over her.

Disconcerted, she hurried off down the corridor, her tennis shoes making rapid squeaks on the polished floor.

Turning a corner, she almost ran headlong into a tall figure in a white lab coat.

"Oh! Dr. Vasilov!" Jane exclaimed. "Sorry!"

"Dr. Reston," the head of the institute said. "I hope you're settling in well."

"Just fine, sir. It's a real pleasure working here."

"Good, good, glad to hear it. Listen, would you be able to join me and some of the other senior staff in the auditorium for a few minutes? We've had an exciting breakthrough in the lab, and I think you may be able to provide us with some valuable insights ... if you don't have previous plans, that is."

Jane took only a moment to consider. Eating a microwave dinner in front of the television could wait. This was a huge opportunity! She spoke slowly, careful not to reveal her excitement in being singled out.

"I'd be happy to help, Dr. Vasilov."

"Excellent! We'll gather at the top of the hour. Thank you, my dear. Your presence will be invaluable."

He'd called her invaluable! Jane's heart fluttered in her chest. Her last few months of diligent work had certainly paid off.

Her only regret was that she didn't have time to change into something more professional. She was still dressed in scrubs from doing her rounds. Oh, well, Jane thought. Vasilov had invited her to the meeting for her professional expertise, not her fashion sense.

The auditorium was small, maybe thirty seats total, with a raised stage at the front. Tonight, the stage was empty except for an examination table and a lectern with a microphone. Jane scanned the room. Half-a-dozen of her senior colleagues were scattered among the open seats. Stoddard was already there, seated in back, looking bored. Carefully avoiding making eye contact, Jane made her way to the front, as far away from him as possible, and took a seat next to a young internist named Ben Valentine.

Unlike most of the other men at the institute, Ben was a pleasure to work with. He was respectful and didn't condescend when he spoke to her. Plus, he was kind of cute, with sandy blond hair and a wry smile that Jane found irresistible.

She'd actually flirted with him once or twice, but nothing unprofessional.

In any case, tonight he was glad to see her, and nodded a greeting.

"Dr. Reston."

Jane nodded back.

"Dr. Valentine."

A few more people drifted in. Then an orderly wearing white scrubs stepped out onto the stage and tapped the microphone. When he'd confirmed it was working, he gave a thumbs-up offstage, and Dr. Vasilov entered from the wings. He was tall and thin, with steel-gray hair and a hawk-like nose. He cleared his voice to quiet the audience, then launched into his presentation.

The topic was a new drug called protheramine. The institute's lab had achieved a major breakthrough in the delivery mechanism. They had invented a new technique for transporting the large molecules of the compound across the blood-barrier barrier. Dr. Vasilov explained that for the first time, significant quantities the drug could be delivered to specific areas of the brain, particularly the hypothalamus and the frontal lobe.

Jane raised her hand. "Does that mean protheramine can be used to moderate emotional state and memory formation as well as conscious behavior?"

Vasilov nodded. "Well-observed, Dr. Reston. Yes, you are precisely correct. Even a small dose markedly increases the patient's openness to suggestion at both the conscious and unconscious levels."

Dr. Vasilov fielded several other questions, but Jane wasn't paying attention. Her mind was racing as she considered the implications. This would revolutionize the treatment of a wide variety of mood disorders. It was like gaining access to a control panel connected directly to a patient's memories and emotions.

"And now," Vasilov said. "I'd like to move on to a brief illustration of how protheramine can be used in a clinical setting."

He held up a small vial. "I have here several tablets of protheramine. Even a dose as small as 20 milligrams is sufficient to produce a therapeutic effect. If I could have a volunteer from the audience, I'll demonstrate ... perhaps you, Dr. Reston?"

The sound of her name startled Jane out of her thoughts. Everyone in the auditorium was looking at her. Dr. Vasilov was standing at the edge of the stage with his hand extended. Her first impulse was to decline, but she couldn't think of any way to do so gracefully. And so, she found herself being escorted by the orderly up onto the stage.

"Allow me to reassure you, Dr. Reston," Vasilov said as he tipped a single pill out of the vial into her palm. "We've run full clinical trials. Protheramine is perfectly safe. A dose this small will merely produce a mild psychoactive effect for about an hour. You're willing to endure that for the sake of science, I hope?"

Jane looked down at the pill. It was shaped like a tiny pink heart. She suppressed a flicker of apprehension and scanned the audience, taking in the expectant faces of her colleagues. Stoddard was smirking at her, but Ben gave her a thumbs up. There was no way to back out now without looking foolish.

"Certainly, Dr. Vasilov," she said. "If it's for science."

The orderly handed her a cup of water. Jane popped the pill in her mouth and swallowed it.

While they waited for the drug to take effect, Dr. Vasilov talked about the progress that had already been made toward bringing protheramine to market. The primary paperwork had already been filed. It was just a matter of time before FDA approval was granted.

Jane stood off to one side with her hands in the pockets of her lab coat, feeling rather silly. As far as she could tell, the drug wasn't affecting her at all. From Vasilov's description, she'd expected some lightheadedness, or maybe a mild sense of euphoria, but as the minutes ticked by, her mind remained perfectly clear and sharp. She started to wonder if maybe Vasilov had given her a placebo by mistake.

Dr. Vasilov glanced at his watch. "Five minutes should be more than sufficient. How are you feeling, Dr. Reston?"

Jane smiled sheepishly. "I'm afraid I'm not experiencing any effects at all, Dr. Vasilov. Perhaps the dose was too small ...?"

Dr. Vasilov shook his head. "Oh no, it was quite adequate, my dear. Raise your right arm, please."

Jane lifted her arm and held it straight out to the side at shoulder height.

"You see, gentlemen," Dr. Vasilov said. "The protheramine has completely suppressed our volunteer's resistance to suggestion. For as long as the drug in in her system, she will remain conscious and alert, but follow commands as though deeply hypnotized."

Jane barely suppressed a laugh. "I'm sorry, Dr. Vasilov, but you asked me to raise my arm, so I did. It wasn't the protheramine."

Dr. Vasilov ignored her and continued to address the audience. "Note that our volunteer is not even aware that she's in a suggestible state. When a patient is under the influence of protheramine, any external suggestion feels like a conscious choice."

Jane frowned. If this was a joke at her expense, it wasn't funny. "This is ridiculous! I've been hypnotized before and I know what that feels like. I'm not hypnotized."

"I didn't say you were hypnotized, my dear. Only that you're in a state of heightened suggestibility that resembles hypnosis. Now, lift your other arm as well."

Jane did just as Dr. Vasilov had asked. Why had she done that? She hadn't intended to. She'd just done it. And then when she tried to put her arms down, she discovered she couldn't. No, that wasn't right. She could put them down, but she didn't want to. She wanted to hold her arms outstretched out like this.

What was happening?

Dr. Vasilov continued to address the audience.

"The utility of protheramine in a therapeutic setting should be obvious. Patients are often reluctant to share embarrassing personal details, even when they might be clinically relevant. But under the influence of a few milligrams of protheramine, they will readily answer even the most intimate questions. For example, Dr. Reston, how old were you the first time you had sexual relations?"

"I was eighteen years old," Jane said matter-of-factly "I was a college freshman, and I lost my virginity to a boy I met at a fraternity party."

The audience was silent. Jane knew exactly what they were thinking. They were all picturing pretty eighteen-year-old Jane Reston giving it up to some random frat boy in a shabby dorm room.

"And how about more recently, Jane?" Dr. Vasilov said. "When was the last time you had sex?"

"Umm," Jane said, trying to jog her memory. "About three months ago. right before I started at the institute. I went to an endocrinology conference in Vegas, and ... well ... I hooked up with another attendee. We skipped the session on pituitary disorders to have sex in his hotel room. Not very professional, I'm afraid ...."

"Thank, you, my dear. You may put your arms down now."

Jane had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. How far was Vasilov going to take this?

"Now Dr. Reston, for the next stage of the demonstration I need you to disrobe."

Jane shook her head, trying to clear it. Had he really said what she thought he had?

"You mean take off my clothes? In front of everyone? I can't do that!"

Vasilov frowned. "Come now! Don't be shy. We're all doctors here. I'm sure your colleagues are quite familiar with what a naked woman looks like."

Jane glanced around the room. Everyone was staring at her, waiting to see if she would obey Vasilov's instructions. The thought of her colleagues seeing her without her clothes made Jane queasy with embarrassment. She worked with these guys every day--she couldn't strip in front of them!

And yet, she was already slipping off her tennis shoes.

"You see, gentlemen," Vasilov continued, "One gram of protheramine has almost totally suppressed the inhibitive response in our volunteer's brain. Dr. Reston clearly stated that she didn't want to disrobe, and yet she is unable to prevent herself from doing so."

It was true. It was as though Jane's body had a will of its own. she took off her shoes, then stood awkwardly on one foot at a time so she could pull off her white golf socks. The hardwood stage felt cool on her bare feet.

Jane unhooked her stethoscope from around her neck and laid it carefully on the examination table. Then she unclipped her ID badge and set it down next to the stethoscope. She felt like a soldier being stripped of her rank.

"Dr. Vasilov, please," she said softly, "Don't make me do this."

"I'm not making you do anything, Jane. I think you want to."

Oh God, she did. The insidious thing about being on protheramine was that it felt so good to obey. Jane's day-to-day life at the institute was filled with constant decisions, some involving matters of life and death. It was hard, stressful work. It felt so satisfying to let go of all that and simply do as she was told.

Jane knew that it was inappropriate and unprofessional to take off her clothes, but she couldn't prevent herself. Her rational mind was screaming for her hands to stop, but the urge to strip was overwhelming. She pulled the top of her scrubs off over her head and tossed it on the floor, followed immediately by the plain white tee-shirt she had on underneath. Then, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her pants, and dragged them down.

Once they were off, she kicked them away to one side.

Jane was down to just her bra and panties. The cool air raised goosebumps on her exposed skin and she suppressed a shiver. One of the doctors in the audience let out a low whistle and there was a flurry of chuckles around the room. She could feel her face turning red.

She looked up pleadingly at Dr Vasilov. "Surely, this is far enough. You don't really expect me to take off everything do you?"

The senior physician was implacable. "Please continue, Dr. Reston."

Jane reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, letting the straps fall off her shoulders. Her breasts swung free as her bra joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Jane's nipples were hard, standing straight up in the cool air of the auditorium.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her panties and tugged them down, letting them drop around her ankles.

Naked. Oh god, she was naked. Jane covered her crotch and her breasts with her hands, trying to preserve a small shred of her dignity.

"Put your hands down, please, My dear. Remember this is a medical exam. There's no point in being modest."

She did as she was told. Every eye in the room was on her. The audience could see everything--her bare breasts with their erect nipples, the messy blonde tuft of hair between her pale skinny legs.

They could even see her pussy. Jane had prominent labia and they were visible even with her just standing there. She was so mortified she wanted to die.

"Thank you, Jane ... well done." Dr. Vasilov said and turned back to the audience. "We all know how difficult it is to deal with female patients who are shy around male doctors. But with a small dose of protheramine even the most inhibited patients will follow embarrassing instructions willingly."

A hand went up in the audience. It was Stoddard. "Can you give us an example, doctor?"

Vasilov nodded. "Consider taking a urine sample. Some women get so nervous in a doctor's office they're unable to urinate at all! They have to take the sample jar home and return it later. We all know what sort of delays in treatment that can cause."

Stoddard nodded. "And protheramine can help?"

"Absolutely. If someone will provide Dr. Reston here with a specimen jar ...."

Jane couldn't believe what was hearing. It was unimaginable. Being naked was horrible enough, but peeing in front of a room full of men? Her face felt like it was on fire, and tears of shame were welling up in her eyes. She shook her head, no, no, but no one seemed to notice. A specimen jar appeared from somewhere, and Dr. Vasilov pressed it into her shaking hands.

"There you go, Dr. Reston! Fill it up, if you please."

"Can't I ... can't I go behind a screen or something ...?"

There was a plaintive note in Jane's voice.

"Now, now, there's no need to be shy," Dr. Vasilov scolded. "It's a perfectly natural bodily function.

Jane started to cry, tears spilling down her flushed face. God, how humiliating! The doctors in the audience were all smiling at her, chuckling under their breath. How could she ever face them again on the ward after they had seen her like this?

But Jane still did what she was told. Holding onto the examination table for balance she squatted a little and held the cup between her open thighs. She was facing the audience and they could see everything. Jane pushed, and a few drops of yellow urine dribbled out from between her labia and into the plastic specimen jar. She glanced around the room expectantly.

"Come now, Reston" Stoddard called out, "You can do better than that!"

Everyone laughed. "I'm trying!" Jane sobbed. "Please don't make fun of me!"

Dr. Vasilov patted her on the shoulder. "There, there ... now just relax and it will come."

Whimpering a little, she pushed harder, and suddenly, all in a gush, it started flowing--a thick, hot stream splashing into the cup. The hiss of Jane's pee echoed off the walls of the auditorium. She felt like a barnyard animal, urinating in public.

And worse, once she'd started, she couldn't stop! She'd had two cups of coffee this morning and her bladder was full. The specimen jar sloshed hot and heavy in her hand, threatening to spill all over the floor.

"I need another jar!" Jane cried frantically. There's too much!"

"Classic Reston," Stoddard said with a chuckle. "Always the overachiever!"

The pee lapped over the top of the cup, spattering noisily on the polished wood between her bare feet. The laughing got louder. Jane wanted to die.