Tell the truth.

"Neither! I'm not a spy, or a soldier, or anything, not even an investigator, I'm just a regulammmppphhh!" Your sentence is cut off by the gag being shoved none to gently back in your mouth.

"Oh that's just what I figured. Delusional!" You see her reach off to the side and pull out a small padlock, the size of the last joint of a thumb. She holds it in front of you to see for a moment, then reaches it behind your head. You hear a faint click, and feel the straps of the gag be pulled tightly.

"Well then. Clearly you saved us trouble by coming here to the Reformatory. You can call me Doctor Fyodor, or you can later when that gag comes out. Right now we're about to do an assessment."

You try to bark out questions, or an explanation, but the gag does it's job and you merely make rather inconsequential noises and drool on yourself.

"You see we here at the Reformatory treat many kinds. The criminally insane, the unruly, the mentally ill, and like you, the delusional. And we have a special method of doing that." You hear her walking around the table you're strapped to. Your head held still you can only see the examination lights above. "So tell me, how well do you respond to physical stimuli?" You try to figure out what she means, but in short order you let out an involuntary squeak.

Your right leg bucks as hard as it can in the straps, something cold, sharp, and metallic being dragged up your right sole's arch sends electric waves of ticklishness up your leg.

"Oh quite well it seems!"