Hearing the clank of metal against metal, he followed the direction of the sound with his eyes. Staring back at him was the nurse he had seen before, young and pretty, dressed in the same type of mid-twentieth century uniform as Peller. He managed an embarrassed smile, and the nurse smiled back as she depressed an inter-office pager button. "It's good to have you back, Mr. Stoltz. Are you uncomfortable in any way?"

Zachary returned his gaze to the ceiling. "I don't even know what time it is," he said, looking around for a clock. "And since you asked, I have a real nasty itch down below. I don't suppose you could help me with that, Nurse--"

"Nurse Schreiber," she answered professionally. "It's precisely eleven-thirty-five p.m., and I'm sorry, but as much as I'd like to accommodate you, I think I should wait for my superior. She should be here any -- wait! Here she comes. Please be patient for just a few moments." Zachary watched as Nurse Schreiber arranged what looked like shiny chicken shears, with other more familiar looking surgical instruments along a stainless-steel tray. Seconds later a tall, red-haired nurse joined her. Peller.

"Ah, Stoltz. Good of you to drop by," she said coolly.

Zachary blinked and shook his head, trying to clear the drug-induced cobwebs from his brain. If ever Zachary needed time to think, it was now. Never before had he found himself in a bind anywhere near as ghastly as this. Looking at himself, at his complete helplessness, the dire truth of the situation kept interrupting his few, vaporous feelings of optimism. Searching his mind for possible rescues, he found none. "Jane, what happened to your face? You look terrible!" he asked, sincerely curious, also buying time. You have a real set of balls, Stoltz," she said, nodding. "Too bad you can't keep 'em."

The anesthesia had not fully metabolized through his system, and it took over a minute for the origin and meaning of her comment to become clear. "Oh my God -- the bet," he cried. Peller grinned. "You betcha, Stoltz. Better enjoy those babies while you can, 'cause in a little while they'll be floating in my special keepsake jar over there," she said, pointing along the counter to a small Pyrex-glass container filled with clear, viscous liquid. Zachary screamed his body convulsing into spasms as he vainly attempted to wriggle free of his bonds. Peller's grin blossomed into a wide, satisfied smile.

"Jane, I don't think that's such a good idea," came the voice of woman behind him. It was a familiar voice, though it sounded a little strange this evening. For a moment, he thought he'd imagined it. Oh no. It was her. Rachel Ness had been present somewhere behind him.

"Nonsense! If you don't want to watch, then leave," Peller challenged. Zachary responded with another fruitless escape attempt, then collapsed against the linen-covered birthing table, breathing heavily. Peller finally moved from her position, walking to the foot of the table. Following a thorough, humiliating visual examination, she unceremoniously yanked away the catheter with a quick snap of the wrist, with no less compassion than if she'd been starting a small gas engine. Zachary cried out, unable even to touch himself.

He gaped at the strangeness of his body. "What have you done to me you fat ugly psycho bitch?" he shouted, gritting his teeth.

Peller grinned. "Well, if you must know, while you were taking your little nap my assistant irrigated your bowels and catheterized your bladder. She also spread depilatory cream over every square inch of your flesh and then sponged you clean," she replied.

"Why? And how long has Rachel been here?" he asked, visibly trembling. Peller inserted a large hypodermic needle into a small glass vile, filling the syringe with clear fluid. Holding it upside down, she tapped it with her fingernail and squeezed several drops from the tip. "What's that?" he asked, panicking at the sight of the impossibly long needle.

Brandishing the big syringe, she moved close. "The shot I'm about to give you is an anti-shock medication designed to maintain critical body functions such as heart and respiration: sort of like the old Atropine except the effects are delayed, but once they kick in, they last for hours. After all, what fun would it be if you passed-out after only a short time?" she said, sinking the needle deep into his exposed buttock as he yelped in pain.

"Unfortunately the medication is rather heavy and requires a few minutes to settle. Oh and by the way, Rachel watched everything. Every detail. I wish I could've seen Ness's face when Nurse Schreiber pumped your intestines full of water and the two of them witnessed the disgusting aftermath!"

"Stop it! Leave him alone Jane! Isn't it enough that you just collect on your sick bet? What kind of nurse are you anyway?" said Melissa.

"I'm in charge and that's all you'll ever need to know," Peller answered curtly.

Strutting over to a wall dispenser she pulled out two pairs of rubber gloves, then walked by her assistant and Rachel Ness, slapping the gloves into their hands as she passed. "Put these on, both of you. I want you both to help me apply the cocktail. Now!"

The two young women made eye contact, and Rachel realized who had the upper-hand. Peller had obviously gotten herself pretty banged up, and she appeared in no mood to put up with any foolishness. Nurse Schreiber deftly slipped on her rubber surgical gloves with a definitive snap, and reluctantly, Rachel followed suit.

Peller removed the I.V. from his arm, then handed a metal cylinder filled with pungent, off-white cream to each of her recruits. Rachel tried to avoid Zachary's gaze, but found she could not. Looking into his eyes, she saw fear mixed with that insane pride of his . . . and she saw something else, too. He was pleading, although she didn't think for a second he would ever voice it. But that one look from him said it all, and she would have snapped those gloves in Peller's face and ran out of there if she didn't suspect there was still a small chance to help him in some way.

"Jane," he said, raising his head a few inches. "If I'm not mistaken I must first agree to all this. And hey, guess what? I'll tell anyone who wants to listen that I was coerced and held against my will. Once the press gets wind of it, your ugly face will be plastered on the front page of every newspaper in the country. You’ll be spending an awful lot of time in courtrooms I promise you that. So why don't you just untie me, give me my clothes and I'll keep my mouth shut? Am I making sense to you, or are you too caught up in your emotional bullshit to see that I'm right?"

Peller smacked his crotch and Zachary arched and screamed violently. The blow from Peller had launched him into an uncontrollable coughing fit. “Understand?” she repeated. "As for you, princess," she said, pointing obnoxiously at Rachel, "get yourself down here. Stand next to me," she commanded tersely.

At first hesitating, Rachel eventually joined the intimidating Peller -- and they stared down, both women simultaneously transfixed by the strangely erotic site of Zachary Stoltz's extremely vulnerable private property. Having much babysitting experience, Rachel shuddered at the connection that Zachary now looked very much like a big, helpless baby. As she watched the assistant work the antiseptic solution onto his genitals, Rachel could see that he was no longer willing to look at her.

"Miss Ness, I've saved the best part for you," said Peller, smiling cheerfully.

Rachel looked at her in horror, wagging her head. "Oh no. Forget it."

"What's the matter? Haven't you ever touched a man before?"

"Yes, of course I have!" Rachel said, taking a step backward. Briefly she pictured the failed, nighttime liaisons with young men in the back seats of their cars, remembering how glad she'd felt that the cars were always so dark inside. Rachel had been proud of her popular label 'cockteaser.' The fact is, she never really much cared for that part of a man's anatomy . . . and there was no way this bitter old red-haired wench was going to get her to do what thirteen assorted high-school quarterbacks, jocks, musicians, student councilmen and popular loverboys couldn't get her to do.

Peller smiled knowingly. "Then show me!" she said, confronting her.

"Why should I show you anything? You're the big head nurse around here! Why don't you show me?" said Rachel.

"Let's just say I'm from Missouri and we'll leave it at that. Now get busy!" Peller barked. Aversely, Rachel dipped three fingers into a jar of cream, and tentatively began buttering the hairless expanse of Zachary's lower abdomen. With Peller supervising, she gradually worked her way down. Thankfully, Zachary's head turned to the side. Rachel could see that his entire face, neck, and head were blushing rosily. "That's right, from top to bottom. Slowly! Yes, that's it. Oh, look at that," exclaimed Peller.

Her attention riveted to Rachel's handiwork, nurse Schreiber was unaware that her hands were nearly digging a trench in Zachary's scrotum. "I think he might just be enjoying this! What do you think, Miss Ness?" Peller said.

"I think I'm finished," said Rachel, releasing her grip. Peller grabbed her wrists.

"I guess so," her assistant answered diffidently.

"That's it, Ness! Now you've got the hang of it. A little faster, maybe. Don't be afraid to smack those by accident. He's only going to lose them anyway," Peller said. Rachel looked directly into the bruised eyes of Jane Peller, and pitied the lonely soul dwelling behind them. Yet her hands seemed to find an urgent rhythm of their own as she complied with this woman's wholly selfish, incorrect wishes. Next she looked at Zachary, at his flushed torso, his heaving chest. He was obviously fighting it, and though his face was turned, Rachel followed the course of a single tear as it repelled down his right cheek. She'd had enough.

But just then, the inevitable happened. For the first time in her life, Rachel beheld the erupting, surging power of a man in all its mindless raging glory. Mesmerized, she quickly released him, feeling the glistening hot spots begin to burn along her hands and forearms through the rubber barrier.

"Oh God," muttered Rachel, her face screwing into a knot of pure disgust. Peller and Schreiber burst out laughing as Rachel tore the anointed gloves from her hands, tossing them to the floor. She looked at Zachary, at his clenched fists and curled toes. And she witnessed something she had never before imagined, and knew she would never forget. Zachary shook from embarrassment. Amidst the laughter and the mirth, nearly drowning underneath a crashing tidal wave of guilt, Rachel walked to the head of the table. Bending over him, she gently held his head, pressing him against her, shielding his face from view. His tears became quickly absorbed by the material of her skirt.

"Aw, isn't that touching? So I guess it's come down to the final humiliation. Oh, Zachary! Now I'm really going to give you something to cry about, you snivelling little loser. You should be glad it's out of your system because that was clearly your last time. Picture it, Stoltz! While you were huffing and puffing on top of those poor unfortunate women -- then never returned their phone calls or answered their cards and letters -- I'll bet you never imagined them getting revenge, now did you?"

"Stop it, Jane! It's over," Rachel shouted.

"So, in the name of the women you've used and humiliated, and for all women everywhere who ever wanted to get even -- I hereby find you guilty of sexism, chauvinism, and selfishness. And I sentence you to castration and you'll be remembered by few as merely a simpering little gelding," Peller announced triumphantly, her eyes glowing. "Miss Schreiber, bring two pairs of fresh gloves and the tray."

Watching as the young assistant walked over to the sink area, Rachel's mind scattered in every direction. Feelings of singular responsibility hung over her head like a wrecking ball. She had to intercede somehow. "Listen Jane. I may not have a medical background but I suspect that a freshly-castrated man is not going to be kind to you when he recovers, bet or not.”

Peller laughed. "That shot I stuck in his butt will give him the energy to climb Mount Everest. He'll just be in a lot of pain, that's all," she retorted. “I’ll drop him off later at the Emergency Room, they’ll have to clean up after me and by then, I’ll be long gone.”

As Schreiber approached with the tray, Rachel could sense some hesitation in Peller. "Well, I'll make it a good clean cut and then I'll button him up real good. I'll cauterize the wound,” Peller said confidently.

"Miss Schreiber, I'm waiting!" Tossing the rubber gloves on top of the tray, her assistant trotted quickly to her side.

Peller cupped her target with her left hand, then lowered the menacing shears to within inches. Opening the shears, she sliced the air just inches away from his flesh. Zachary revolted violently, and Rachel glared at Peller indignantly.

"Go ahead, Jane. But prepare to face the consequences."

Peller tightened her grip and gave a sharp tug. "What do you think, Miss Schreiber, should we gag him or not?" she asked in response to the deep, forlorn moaning that echoed around the room.

Schreiber broke into a wicked little half-grin. "I don't know. I think his voice is kind of, well, sexy. I vote no," she replied.

"Then it's settled," said Peller. "Feel free to scream as loud as you want! And don't worry, Stoltz. I'm still a bit shaky from my ordeal this afternoon, so I'll be sure to cut you real good and slow. We don't want to risk any errors, now do we?"

Zachary's low, guttural groaning quickly escalated into a thrashing high-pitched scream. Blasphemous obscenities spewed from his mouth like hot burning lava. Peller glanced over at Rachel who stood rooted to her spot at the doorway, apparently unable to break away.

With a questioning look upon her face, the younger nurse walked over to the counter and withdrew three lengths of yellow rubber hose from the bottom drawer. Rachel hesitated. "What are you up to, Jane?"

Ignoring the question, Peller grabbed a length of tubing and tied it tightly around the base of his organs, creating a firm target and eliminating any possibility of an anatomical retreat. Grabbing another tube, she demonstrated for her assistant how to draw back the tubing like a slingshot. "Let's see how your aim compares to mine, missy," she addressed her assistant with a smirk. Exchanging smiles, the two nurses immediately filled the room with snapping sounds as loud as firecrackers, providing a steady, rhythmic accompaniment to their hysterical soprano victim. His screams resonated deep within her until finally she could take it no longer.

Rachel grabbed the gleaming shears, positioned them at the base of his swollen purple genitals, looked Zachary Stoltz in the eye, and with a heart overflowing with love and humanity, slammed the handles shut.

Zachary convulsed against his bonds, his figure becoming almost grotesque in its violent twisting. After a moment’s delay he screamed, as if being burned alive. Rachel continued to stare at his face, and for a moment his eyes opened and met hers. She brushed aside the grinning nurses and bent low, stroking his agonized brow, kissing his mouth as he screamed into her body and soul. At this moment she knew, by this single act of what she believed was mercy, they were now bound to each other, and she would care for him, forever.