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Nurse Debbie Reflects on 4 Years at Health Services: Part 2

It was getting late. Very late indeed. Old Gus was just about ready for bed. After brushing his remaining teeth, he entered the bedroom where she awaited him.

It had been a long day at work for Old Gus.

“How was your day, my love?” inquired the woman, “Mine was horrible, as always. That gibbon Sandra Rhodes came in again. She has smallpox! Can you believe it?”

“I’m sorry to hear that, dear,” replied Old Gus.

“I’m telling you, the campus will never be safe until she is euthanized once and for all,” exclaimed the lady.

“Now, now, dear. There’s no reason to get upset about it.” said Old Gus, as he sensuously unbuckled his suspenders. “It sounds like you need a little special treat from Old Gus.”

The wife was taken aback by this gesture. “What are you doing, Old Gus? You haven’t taken off those suspenders since our wedding night.” She gasped as Old Gus neatly folded his suspenders and placed them atop the armoire. He extracted a container from under their cot. She could feel a surge of ecstasy rise through her innards.

“The key, Deborah,” he whispered. The wanton pulled the object out of her chastity belt and placed it into his outstretched palm. “Do you know what lies inside the container, Deborah?” asked Old Gus.

“Yes, Old Gus. I know what lies inside the container, Old Gus,” she replied.

“Very good. You have made excellent progress.” At last, after all these years of devotion, of sacrifice, of withholding her deepest desires, the moment had finally arrived. Old Gus inserted the key into the container. The container opened.

The temptress reaches into the container and pulls out a second pair of suspenders.

The deviants gaze into each other’s eyes. The female drapes the Special Suspenders over her leopard print nightgown.

“How do you feel, Deborah?” he asks. She clumsily flops onto the cot, knocking over the framed portrait of their father.

“I want you to rub my tummy, Old Gus.” Old Gus is flabbergasted, nay, horrified. He would never tolerate such a lewd request.

“Please do not use that tone of voice with me, Miss Debbie,” he croaks with a stern look. Old Gus sits down on the cot next to her captivating ankles.

“I want you to-”

“Your mouth needs to be closed, Deirdre.” Old gus is getting very angry with his bride. He curls up beside her and caresses her cheek.

“I want you to call me a racial slur, Mister Gus,” she begs, gasping for breath.

“It is very important to me that you do not speak,” he whispers. “I need you to be quiet like a hush-puppy. Can you do that for me, Dolores?” The corpses sit there in silence for what feels like weeks. “That’s much better,” says Old Gus, perching beneath her warm abdomen. “Now tell me, Daphne. Tell me all about what you’re going to do to Sandra Rhodes.”