Anhiem Institute

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"I'm really proud of you, son. I mean that".

Randall Masterson's dads sudden outburst brought him back rudely back into the world of the living just as he was about to fall asleep. It was the first time his dad had said anything since they left the institute nearly two hours ago. Randall hadn't really known what he was expected to say, and he figured his father had lapsed into his usual method of dealing with him; embarrassed denial, so until now the

journey home and been in complete silence. Awkward for his dad perhaps, but relieving for him. Until now. Randall gave his dad the courtesy of a slight smile. He would say he felt relieved to be out of the institute and going home, but in truth, Randall didn't feel much of anything at all while he was taking all the drugs that made him 'better'. He wasn't going to deny they'd taken the edge of his obsessive tendencies and the anger, but they'd also managed to slice just about all of his emotions, negative or otherwise right down the middle. It wasn't that he had lost them, he was sure he still 'felt'. It was hard to describe. They just felt like they wasn't his own anymore. At least, like he wasn't quite in control of them. Still, he supposed, emotional ruin aside, at least he was out of the institute and being driven back to his own house.

How long had it been? Nearly a year now. Not quite, though. It felt much longer. He struggled to send himself back to the days when he had been happily living on the cusp of what was considered 'normal'. He had decided not to go to college, and that had actually worked out for a while. He'd still been living with his family when he met Jessica, and he vaguely remembered happiness. It was when she left him that everything that got majorly fucked up.

The cheating, the breakup, and then the drinking, the stalking, the attack, the court case.. Randall had been a minor then, lucky for him. The judge had decided that with his parents permission the Anhiem Institute would be the best place for Randall, having made several recent breakthroughs with behavioural treatment and experimental drug conditioning. Randall had been incredibly worried, even scared about the institute when he arrived, but it hadn't really been that bad. It was certainly better than prison anyway, he figured. The freeway lights were creating complex shadows across the car. Randall's tiredness crept back again, and with no more effort from his father to finish the conversation, Randall fell asleep.

The car pulled into the driveway a little after midnight. Randall's dad had stopped off at a service station for dinner sometime after Randall had fallen asleep, but Randall had decided not to bother with food. He was hungry, but he didn't want the added social awkwardness of having to sit across from his father and eat a meal. He was grateful for the extra time it had added to the journey when he noticed all the lights in the house were off. His mother and his sister were asleep, which could only be a good thing. He'd deal with them tomorrow.

The familiar smell of the house hit Randall as his father opened the front door into the hallway. Nothing had really changed, and what little was different had already been documented by his mother in a million letters. The smell, however, couldn't be conveyed with words and it comforted him somewhat. The institute tried in vain to emulate the comforts of home without looking to much like a mental hospital, but there's only so much you can do to hide sterility, and the aroma of twenty years of family life couldn't be emulated.

"I'm going to bed son," his father said wearily. "I'm only an early shift tomorrow and your mother will be out most of the day, but we'll talk in the evening, ok?", his father looked at him tentatively, perhaps hoping to illicit some sort of response.

"Sure." Randall replied. He didn't really mind if his parents wanted to talk. If they expected something more than a quiet apathy from him though, they were going to be disappointed. He watched his dad retreat up the stairs and into his room, quietly closing the door behind him. He listened at the foot of the stairs for a while, and when no sounds came, he gave up and walked up the stairs to his own room.

Not bothering to turn the light on in his room, he shut the door and threw himself on the bed, falling asleep for the second time in the evening.

"Randall?"

"Randall? Wake up!"

Randall rolled over onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling. He rubbed his eyes. His curtains were drawn but bright sunlight had managed to penetrate and fill the room in a hazy light. He guessed it must be quite early in the morning, although there wasn't a working clock in his room; all of the electronics hadn't been switched on since he left for the institute and--

"Randall, I'm only going to ask one more time!", the voice of his sister on the other side of the door.

"What?"

"Do you want breakfast, or not?" Bethany asked.

Randall sat up on the edge of his bed and stretched. "Yeah, ok, sure, I'll be down in a second" he replied, and he heard his sister walk back down the stairs. Bethany would almost certainly be cooking bacon for breakfast. Unlike his parents, she probably wouldn't want to talk about the institute or discuss his future. Beth was like that, she knew when to just back off, and it had helped them secure a very good relationship. At least, a good relationship before he left. She hadn't come to visit him once. Her 18th birthday had come and gone two weeks ago and he had sent a card, but hadn't heard from her at all, save fleeting remarks in his mother's letters.

Randall stood up, still wearing the clothes from yesterday. The only clothes he had taken to the institute. He opened his wardrobe. Everything was clean and ironed and placed on hangers. Of course. He kept his jeans on, found a plain white shirt and walked to the bathroom. The mirror above the sink showed off his attractive features, blue eyes and short black hair. His hair had been much longer but short hair was one of the institutes many regulations. Maybe they did it to enhance the loss of identity or maybe they did it just because. You could never tell at that place what was meaningful and what was just a

waste of time. Randall made a mental note to let his hair grow for the immediate future.

Randall was washing his face when his entire body suddenly went haywire. Stumbling backwards from incredible sudden pain on the left side of his head, he made an attempt to grab onto the side of the bath and failed, falling to the floor. His body convulsed, arms lashing out to grab something, anything at all, and then just as suddenly as the pain had appeared, it vanished. Randall was left feeling nauseous and breathing heavily. He crawled over to the toilet, lifted the lid and threw up violently. It was several minutes before he felt strong enough to stand, and after a drink of water from the sink, he felt a little better.

"Breakfasts ready Randall; you better not have gone back to bed!" Beth called.

Randall cleaned himself up and flushed the toilet. The last thing he wanted was for any of his family to find out he was having random attacks. He walked down the stairs with a deliberate concentration, and into the kitchen.

He had been right; Bethany had prepared two incredibly appetising bacon sandwiches. She handed him one of them on a plate and went to sit at the table.

Beth was Randall's little and only sister. She had always been quiet and although she had a few close friends, she was never all that popular at school. As far as Randall knew, she had never dated or even kissed a guy. She just didn't seem the type, although he was sure that there wouldn't be many guys that would turn her down. She'd always been cute as a kid, but Randall was amazed how she'd grown since he'd been at the institute. He'd never really noticed it before, but the way her brown hair fell down her face, ending at the top her cleavage was... he stared at the bumps his sisters pert, round breasts made in her pyjamas....

"Randall? Are you going to eat that or just stand there with it?" Beth asked.

Randall was snapped back into life and quickly looked away from Beth in embarrassment. What was he just thinking about? He'd never thought about Beth like that before, she was his sister. He wasn't attracted to her. Right? Still, he had to calm himself for a minute and adjust his pants to hide the start of an erection that had been forming there. He sat at the table across from Beth, who started talking to him like he had never left home. She told him about school, about her piano playing and photography classes, and about her friends. She was going shopping with them today. She never once asked him for any information about the institute or his treatment, and he didn't offer any. It didn't take long before they had both finished their food. Beth stood up and took the dirty plates over to the sink.

Randall watched his sister as she stood cleaning up the dishes. She was wearing a blue pyjama top with stars and moons printed all over it, and a pair of pyjama shorts. Randall found himself staring at her ass, and imaging her slowly sliding down her shorts, her wet hands sliding between the wasteband and pulling them down her legs. Then, something incredible happened. What had only a second ago been a fantasy that Randall had been certain was in his head and his head alone started happening. Randall rubbed his eyes and quickly looked around the room, certain his must be asleep. His head pounded.

Bethany had stopped her cleaning and had begun to pull down her pyjama shorts with both hands, revealing her white cotton panties clinging to her round ass. As the shorts cleared her knees she dropped them to the floor. Randall continued to stare as Bethany suddenly cried out and pulled her shorts back up, looking over at him sheepishly. "I..." she started "I guess these are a little too big, I must be losing weight...." she said, clearly very embarrassed and totally confused. Her shorts hadn't fallen off; she had pulled them down in front of her brother. What was she doing? Her head hurt when she tried to think about it, and she quickly finished up and left the Kitchen muttering about needing to get ready to go out.

Randall hadn't said anything. He had just stared. First at her panties, then quickly up to her face when she had turned to speak. He was far too amazed and terrified by what had just happened. His fantasy about his sister, which had already been uninvited and surprising in the first place had actually come true. Randall ran through the event trying to think of a more logical reason for what just happened.

Maybe he had said something or mentally dropped some sort of subliminal hint which his sister had picked up on? He'd seen that done on television and in a few movies. If that was true though, Beth would have been more likely to slap him than actually do it. The pain in his head gone, he grabbed a drink from the fridge and walked back upstairs, noticing the huge erection that the events of breakfast had given him.

Walking past the bathroom on the way to his room he heard the shower. Something made him stop by the door. He imagined his sister having a shower. At least, he tried. He had never had an amazing imagination and he hadn't seen Beth naked since they were both young children. As he stared at the door thinking about his sister's wet body, the door suddenly began to open. No, that wasn't right. It wasn't opening, it was still fast shut. It was becoming transparent. His vision blurred as his eyes and brain once again tried to adjust to the impossible. He could see straight into the bathroom, but he could also see the

door. His sister's pyjamas and panties lay on a heap in the middle of the floor. The shower had steamed enough that he could only see Bethany's silhouette. He began to stare at the shower door. His brain started to hurt again, but it felt like nothing more than what he would feel after an evening of alcohol, and he felt a near uncontrollable disaster to see her.

As he concentrated, the shower door began to fade exactly the same way as the bathroom door did. He could still see ghostly outlines of both doors but he was no longer concentrating on either the doors or the impossibility of the situation. Bethany had her eyes shut as she massaged shampoo into her wet hair, her face up to meet the blast of water from the shower. She was, of course, entirely naked, and as she moved around to lather the side of her hair, Randall saw her breasts and small, erect nipples glistening with water. He started breathing heavily. Bethany wasn't a super model. She was nearly a foot shorter than him, about 5 foot 1. She wasn't super thin either, but she wasn't fat. She had curves, like Jessica. She might do with losing a little bit of weight from her hips, but she was otherwise a very attractive girl.

As the shampoo from her hair hit the shower water, lather and bubbles dripped from it onto her face and down her breasts and stomach. Randall couldn't get a good look at her pussy. He watched for a few minutes, and then he had an idea. He imagined Bethany touching herself. Seconds later, Bethany's hands which had been washing her face slowly moved down to her pussy. She parted her legs slightly, and moved one hand between them, using the other to steady herself against the wall of the shower.

Randall's head rang out in slowly increasing pain, but he was far too interested in Bethany's display to notice. He could see her chest move up and down making her breasts move slightly as her breathing quickened. The movement her arm made between her legs got faster and faster. Randall didn't have a very good view, but he wasn't worried. The idea he had made his sister masturbate in the shower was enough for him, and he reached down to his cock and started masturbating in the hall. Bethany's pace quicked again and suddenly she moaned loudly in pleasure, leaning forwards in the shower and gasping for air.

Randall's own orgasm followed quickly afterwards. Putting his cock back into his pants, he watched his sisters disbelieving expression as she turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.

As she walked towards the pile of her clothes on the floor, Randall got the first proper look at his sister's vagina. Or at least, he would have done. Bethany had dark brown pubes all over. Randall had always hated girls with a lot of pubes. Jessica had finally given into his complaining and gotten rid of hers not too long before they broke up, and he had loved it. Worse, his downer from his orgasm had only made him notice the pain in his head more, and he reached to massage his left temple. He felt it would probably be wise to walk away now, but he wanted to try one last thing before he broke off. He closed his eyes for a second, and imagined what he wanted to happen.

Bethanie suddenly dropped the pile of clothes she had picked up and walked slowly over to the sink cabinet. Randall had lost sight of her at this point, but he wasn't worried. She carefully opened the door to the cabinet above the sink and took out one of Randall's razors. Randall's? If she was going to shave her legs, she told herself, she'd use wax, and besides, she'd only done that two days ago and her legs were perfectly smooth. She walked back into the dead centre of the room, and stood facing the locked door. She moved her legs wide apart, and the hand with the razor in started to harshly and quickly shave her pubic area.

Randall watched his sister's display. Her face was showing concentration instead of shock or pain from dry shaving down there. Her pubes fell off quickly and after a few minutes her pussy was entirely bald, hair clustered on the floor beneath her legs. Her vagina looked red and slightly sore, but Randall didn't mind, it would clear up and it looked much better than all that hair. Randall called on his imagination one last time and Bethany shoved the handle of the razor into her pussy up to the hilt. Randall laughed, surprised at his cruelty but already sporting another erection. The pain in his head had

become in intolerable though, and he steadied himself on the door, eyes shut. When he opened them, the door was solid once again and the pulsating in his head had calmed slightly. He went to his room and fell onto the bed, totally exhausted and feeling incredibly drained.

Bethany suddenly looked down at the floor to see all her pubic hair surrounding her. She stepped back and felt something cold and painful inside her. Reaching down, she pulled the razor out her pussy. Looking at it in disbelief, then at the floor again and noticing the pain and bleeding that had started from razor cuts across the region where her pubes had been, she fell to her knees and became the second person that day to throw up in the Masterson family toilet.