Immobile, in a white room.

Slowly, and with a slight headache, you come to. You try to sit up and rub your temples, but you notice your arms can't move, or your torso, or your neck, or even your head for that matter.

You notice your body stretched out in a T shape, arms at either side, head bolted down to a rubbery surface providing little, but not much movement. You feel straps on your forehead, an X across your chest, ones just above the elbows and knees, and ones at the wrists and ankles. Completely secure.

You try to call out for help, when you notice that you can't move your jaw. Then you notice the taste of fresh rubber, and notice that you're unable to swallow your own saliva. Your jaw is stretched to it's limits with presumably a ball gag.

The next thing that hits you is the chill. You're now aware that your shirt, pants, socks and shoes have been removed. Luckily you're still at least partially covered, and glad you didn't go commando today.

You whine silently, raising your voices intonation at the end like a question.

After countless minutes you hear the sound of a sliding door opening, almost like the ones on the bridge in Star Trek.

"Alright, going out or coming in?" You hear a husky but decidedly feminine voice say.

Finally the strong middle aged woman's face comes into view over you, distracted by a clip board. "Ohhh, you're not a patient. . . yet." She says, sounding almost excited at that last bit. Then she lowers the clip board and you see her smile, sharp teeth in two rows, the grin of an apex predator staring at their prey.

You realize what a mistake this is. You realize how helpless you are. And you realize there's nothing you can do about it.