Flat and Faking: January 2017

I found something! Please follow the link the link below to read the rest of the story.

https://thechangingmirror.com/phpbb/viewtopic.php?f=11&t=2245

(Mental Regression - Adult Baby - Weight Gain - Humiliation)

Rebecca Scanlon had just closed her computer and was about to leave work for the day.
Scrumptious in beauty, Penelope’s wavy black made was in chic bob style while her hourglass figure was attired in a form fitting black blazer and matching skirt.

Quite industriously and intelligent, Rebecca had eagerly worked her way up the ladder and had just been promoted too senior staff administrator for a government sponsored hospital specializing in young females with behavioral disorders.

However, despite her stellar accomplishments at only 24-years of age, including a degree in psychology, Penelope was very vain and egotistical. Several times she had maliciously thwarted the careers of certain colleagues to bolster her own agenda, and shamelessly took full credit for particular research that actually belonged to her staff.

Rebecca briefly paused at the mirror in her private washroom and took in her attractive appearance.
Her lips curving into a pretentious smirk just as she was interrupted by her assistant, Marge Kantor.

Marge Kantor was a few years older than Rebecca. Pleasingly plump with congenial features, Marge was likewise a PhD in psychology but had yet accomplished the prestigious career that Rebecca marveled in.

Marge softly coughed to gather Rebecca’s attention.
Rebecca swerved around and their eyes met, a calm smile over Marge’s face, an agitated grimace upon Rebecca’s.

“Yes, what is it?”, Rebecca snapped.

Marge politely agreed to an explanation, “I don’t mean to disturb you at the end of the day but I’ve a little quandary that I believe deserves your attention.”

Rebecca walked into her inner office and grabbed her leather briefcase, “Can’t it wait until Monday? I have a date with Roger this evening.”

Marge smirked, “Oh, Dr. Cordville. Yes, he’s a commendable young man, isn’t he.”

“Thanks for your approval”, Rebecca sarcastically answered. “So I’ll see you Monday, first thing.”

Marge cleared her throat, “Actually Rebecca_.”

Rebecca sternly interrupted, “I so know you’re upset over losing the promotion too me but we’re not partners here, I prefer my staff to call me Dr. Scanlon.”

Marge nodded, then continued in a vastly saccharine tone, “Yes Dr. Scanlon. You see, Fran Hovia is having a terrible time adjusting to our hospital and well, to be honest, she really needs to talk with someone. Someone of your expertise and intellect.”

Rebecca momentarily chuckled before addressing Marge.
“You’re just as dopey as our patients. I have several proficient clinical psychologist on our staff to deal with girls like here. Especially like her.”

“Then you’re familiar with Fran?”, Marge inquired.

Rebecca rolled her eyes and sighed.
“About two months ago I evaluated Francesca and found her trite if not socially inferior. If my memory serves me correctly, Fran was brought here as a child from Puerto Rico , breed in a low income community and was sent here due to her chaotic personality traits and introverted behavior.”

Marge watched as Rebecca opened her file cabinet and looked searched for Fran’s file.

“Alright, here it is. From my analysis, Fran is withdrawn, a daydreamer and socially defected.
I arranged an appointment for her with an employment counselor. I believe she’d be a boon to the fast food industry.”

Rebecca placed the file back and slammed shut the door.

“I think that gives you some clue on how to deal with Fran. She needs to get out and associate with real people. Burger King would be an ideal place for her, this way she could start hobnobbing with other inept people , besides, it would be the career best suited for her.”

Marge’s expression became extremely articulate and she cheerily hummed , “Yes, you made a valid point. Yet, I honestly think a competent psycho-analyst as yourself could start Fran’s engine’s running if you just stop in and say hello and then explain that you’ll have a session with her on Monday.”

Rebecca was adamant, “Let me make this clear, my function at this facility no longer requires me to counsel patients. I manage the staff and supervise the research department.”

Rebecca’s smugly smiled as she added, “Really Marge, if you actually think you’re in my league, then you handle Fran yourself.”

Marge strolled over to the door, “Fran is right down the hall in conference room A. Why not just pop in for a minute and show me just how far I’m out of your league.”

“Fine!”, Rebecca blurted. “But Monday I’m going to start the papers and have you reassigned somewhere else at this hospital.”

The trek wasn’t very long and within a minute Rebecca and Marge entered the conference room.
Seated at the table sat Francesca Hovia enjoying a package of pudding.
19 years of age, Fran had stringy dark brown hair that partially obscured her genuinely pretty features while her plump figure was attired in a typical hospital gown.

Marge sweetly warbled to Fran, “Dr. Scanlon has agreed to visit you for a while, I know the time you spend together will be most favorable.”

Fran simply shook her head in slow motion.

Marge took a step back, “I’ll be right at my desk, call me when the session is through.”

Rebecca spun around, “Session? I can only visit for a moment.”

However, Marge left the room and shut the door behind her.

Rebecca swerved toward Fran, dropping her briefcase on the table, she studiously gazed over the patient.

There was something spooky about the young lady that Rebecca couldn’t distinguish. Fran’s eyes appeared hazy and her face free of emotion. Rebecca observed the sluggish manner in which Fran lapped away the pudding, her movement consistent with her obtuse expression.

“Well”, Rebecca finally broke the silence, “I don’t have much time, miss. What exactly is the cause of your difficulty with the hospital?”

Fran paused from the pudding and brought her eyes upon Rebecca. Rebecca felt a cold chill as Fran meticulously scrutinized her appearance.

“Unless you say something, I can’t help with a solution”, Rebecca firmly told Fran, then added, “I can only allow you five minutes, so speak up.”

Fran lifted her eyebrows, “You have a busy schedule.”

Fran’s voice held a fractured sounding tone.

Rebecca took a step closer to Fran, “We’re not here too talk about me.”

Fran motioned over to a stack of pudding packs on the table , “Would you like some pudding?”

“No”, Rebecca harshly replied. “And I don’t appreciate my time being wasted.”

“Maybe later, huh, Becky?”

Rebecca froze for a moment, “Pardon me but you’re to address me as Dr. Scanlon.”

Rebecca turned around, “I’m done here…”

Just as Rebecca reached the door, Fran humorously squeaked, “Going on a date with that handsome Dr. Cordville!”

Rebecca turned around, “Did Marge tell you that?”

“I just know!”, Fran chirped.

Rebecca took a couple steps toward Fran.
“You expect me to believe you have some kind of telepathy?”

Fran tilted her head, “Something like that, I guess.”

Rebecca venomously grinned, “Well, I won’t be needing to reassign Marge, thanks to her erroneous conduct, I have the perfect opportunity too have her dismissed.”

“You use a lot of big words, Becky”, Fran blatantly uttered.

“Please refrain from calling me Becky”, Rebecca reminded Fran, and added, “My vocabulary corresponds with my intellect.”

“Okay, I believe you”, Fran replied in a patronizing tone. “But you can’t blame Marge for something she didn’t tell me.”

“Miss, you’re not psychic. Marge deliberately fed you that information”, Rebecca conveyed to Fran.

Fran candidly expressed herself as she returned to the pudding.
“I know lots and lots of things about you. Like before going home, you’re going to the gym and then have a manicure.”

A puzzled expression filled Rebecca’s beauteous features, Marge had no way of knowing that.

Standing in complete astonishment, Rebecca could only nod.

“Sure you don’t want a pudding pack? They’re yummy!”, Fran shrilly giggled.

Rebecca angrily huffed, “I told you already, no!”

Fran mischievously grinned, “That’s right, you’re counting calories, that’s the purpose for your bi-weekly visits to the gym. You’re worried about your figure.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my figure!”, Rebecca scowled.

Fran calmly opposed Rebecca’s answer.
“Actually you’re tremendously self-conscious about your figure. Battling the bulge isn’t too easy for you, is it. Those pesky ten pounds keep returning every time you lose them.”

Rebecca moved closer to Fran, “My figure is absolutely perfect.”

Fran snickered, “Riiiiight! That’s why you’re wearing a padded bra, you feel inadequate about your 32-B cup size and…”

Fran paused, her eyes zeroing in on Rebecca’s hourglass form.

Rebecca felt sweltering uncomfortable as Fran’s gaping eyes traveled over her figure.
“What! What is it!”, Rebecca retorted.

Fran half-smiled, “Remove your clothes. This way we can correctly appraise your body.”

Rebecca folded her arms over her breasts, “Are you that delusional? I’m the psychologist, you’re the patient.”

“I didn’t ask you, Becky”, Fran composedly replied, “I told you. Now, take off your clothes.”

Rebeccca blinked, a strange persuasive vibe imposing her to obey Fran’s demand.

Rebecca gawkily exhaled as she disrobed, soon enough, there she stood in only her undergarments.

For all practical purposes Rebecca was slender, although she did have a bit of a tummy pouch and her thighs were a tinge flabby.

“That’s fine, now whirl around so I can see everything”, Fran politely told Rebecca.

Once again, Rebecca obeyed Fran, even though she fought against it the best she could.

As Rebecca slowly spun around, she could actually feel Fran’s icy stare cast over her body.

Fran softly applauded Rebecca, “Good girl!”

“I don’t appreciate the patronizing attitude, miss”, Rebecca austerely stated.

“Using those big word again, huh?”, Fran giggled.

Rebecca was about to lecture Fran concerning her many degrees and years of distinguish education but a dull throbbing pain zipped through her mind. Rebecca blinked a few times as the room briefly went out of focus.

Once the sensation was over, Rebecca let loose a frail sigh.
“Where were we?”, Rebecca droned in a voice less sophisticated.

Fran responded with a concerned smile, “Well, you were telling me about the things that make you feel self-conscious about your figure.”

Rebecca squinted, her thinking process seemed rerouted and she rattled off like an insecure teenager, “I suppose like, my stupid tummy could be flatter and my thighs are starting too look fat.”

“Yeah, that’s true. You’re also starting to get a secretary’s ass”, Fran breezily noted.

“Really!”, Rebecca screeched. “Is it that big?”
Fran purposely took a few seconds to think it over, then bluntly replied, “Not that big_ yet.”

Rebecca neurotically blathered, “I watch what I eat, work out twice a week, this is the heaviest I’ve been in my entire life.”

“Hmmm, you know another ten pounds and you’ll have a noticeable potbelly and those thighs of yours will be rather chunky!”, Fran noted.

Rebecca instinctly dropped her head, her eyes gazing upon her belly that began to inflate and nudge out over her Victoria Secret skivves. Round and plump, Rebecca cringed at the sight of her protruding gut. Quickly closing her eyes for just a moment, once open again, Rebecca sighed with relief, her tummy was back to normal with the small patch of fat situated beneath her navel.

“Tell me about your boobs?”, Fran inquired, “Why the padded bra?”

Rebecca puffed up her cheeks, “Ah, because I like them for support.”

Fran folded her hands over the table and stringently gazed upon Rebecca, “If you don’t tell me the real issue you have with your breasts, I can’t help with a solution.”

Rebecca’s mouth dropped, “Huh? You’re going to help me? Whose the doctor here, me or you?”

“I asked you a question, young lady!”, Fran snapped. “Why do you need padded bras? Are you that self-conscious about the size of your breasts?”

Rebecca began feeling overwhelmingly intimidated by Fran and uncomfortably admitted, “They make my boobs look fuller and more shapely.”

“Fran leaned forward, “You see, this is why vanity is such a despicable personality flaw. So what if you’re not all that big on top.”

Rebecca couldn’t help giggling, “At least I’m bigger than you!”

Fran elvated her eyebrows as she acidly responded, “Are you?”

A rough spasm sprung through Rebecca’s body, her bra loosening and eventually ending up on the floor. Rebecca awkwardly coughed upon noticing her deflated bustline, she was now a meager 32-A.

Rebecca closed her eyes, eager that her breasts would return back to normal once opening them as did with her tummy.

They were indeed back too their natural size.

Rebecca began to whimper, “How do you keep doing this!”

It was Fran‘s turn too giggle, “Seems I must have some kind of psychic power after all.”

Rebecca held her arm over her bust, “What’s going on here! Tell me now!”

Fran stood up and slowly walked over to Rebecca.

Rebecca silently stood, a loss for words as Fran approached her.

Somehow Fran’s eyes emitted a rather intelligent glow and there was vivacity in her stride.

Rebecca couldn’t understand why but she felt quite intimidated by Fran.

Fran retrieved Rebecca’s light orange colored blouse off the floor and handed it to her.
“You’re upset now aren’t you?”, Fran politely coo’d, “Take a seat and have a pudding pack, it’ll make you feel so much better.”

Rebecca gulped a mouthful of air and began breathing through her nose, her voice less refined borderline uncultured.

“But…it’s late, I have a date with Dr. Cordville.”

Rebecca grimaced, “Why I call him Dr. Cordville and not Roger?”, she pondered to herself.

Fran gently ran her fingers over Rebecca’s cheek, “Now don’t worry, play dates can be arrange later.”

“Play dattt…dates?”, Rebecca nervously uttered.

Fran took Rebecca by the hand and led her to a chair.

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk now, we have loads of stuff to hash out”, Fran calmly told Rebecca as they reached the chair. Fran helped Rebecca back into her blouse and then firmly planted her unto the chair.

“Shouldn’t I get totally dressed….put on my skirt and blazer…too…too?”, Rebecca asked, her voice cracking.

Fran ignored the question and once opening the pack of chocolate pudding, dutifully began to feed Rebecca.

Rebecca naturally protested, at first, but in a sensitive manner, Fran won her over.

“Hush now, just enjoy the pudding, Becky, alright.”

Rebecca had the urge too complain again about being called ‘BECKY’, however, the rich chocolatity taste quelled her anger and she contentedly nourished on the delicious pudding.

Fran diligently fed the psychologist, all the while running through her history, “You’re from a small farming community in Minnesota, is that right? Decent grades in high school, cheerleader and on the volleyball squad. Wasn’t there a boy you were smitten with?”

Rebecca swallowed a mouthful of pudding before replying.

“Yeah, Barney Pointdexter, we all call him Coot. He’s like, totally handsome, works at the feed store.”

Fran nodded as she stuffed another spoonful of pudding between Rebecca’s lips.

Rebecca spoke while chewing, “Yeah, he’s kinda cool, picked me up for the prom in a tracker….”

On it went, Rebecca sloppily consuming the pudding as she reflected on her relationship with Barney.

Fran finally posed a question, “If you like this boy so much, what’s the deal with dating Dr. Cordville?”

Rebecca was about to speak but needed to wait until Fran finished wiping her lips with a papernapin.

“Oh wow, I guess after I went to college we grew apart, you know. I’m so much smarter than he is anyway. And Dr. Roger is sooooooooooo hot and cool and rich!”

Rebecca shrillingly giggled.

“You’re not being completely honest, young lady”, Fran insistently uttered.

“What ya mean? Not completely honest?”, Rebecca whined.

Fran opened another package of pudding, Rebecca sourly gaped, No, please no more. I’ll get fat.”

“Well, be what it may, I believe your mother is quite a woman of size. You can’t escape those genes, it’s inevitable.”

Rebecca crinkled her nose, “I know, my mom’s huge!”

Fran sweetly warbled, “But really, you can worry about your weight some other time. Right now I know you’re hungry and you really want some more pudding.”

Rebecca grudgingly nodded and the feeding resumed.

A narrow trail of pudding streamed downward from Rebecca’s lips unto her chin and her blouse splattered by the sloppy manner in which she devoured the dessert.

Fran cracked an eye, “Now about Dr. Roger as you refer to him. I understand it’s natural having a crush on such an attractive successful man. I can’t blame you, I have a crush on him myself.”

Rebecca coughed on the pudding, her blouse becoming all the more soiled.

“Wha,,,?”

Fran pensively sighed, “This explains why you’re so uptight about your figure, you’re aware that any man in Dr. Cordville’s league is expected to date eye candy. Thus is the reason you have a fear of getting fat and feel insecure about your breast size.”

Rebecca shrugged her shoulders, much too engrossed in the pudding too fully acknowledge Fran.

“Furthermore, Becky, what’s the real reason you distanced yourself from Barney? That story about growing apart due to college is just that, a story.”

“But….but I want…I mean..I went to college…”, Rebecca frantically replied.

“Oh Becky, I know you went too go to college but I don’t think it was a promising endeavor due to your lack of social development.”

Rebecca paused from her meal, “But, I like, went already. How else can you explain me being a psychocanollist….psycholgust…”

“Are you trying to say, psychologist?”, Fran questioned although aware of the answer.

“Yeah!”, Rebecca retorted. “I’m the doctor here, remember? You is the patient!”

Fran loudly exhaled, “I’m not a patient, Becky. I’m a nursing assistant working under Dr. Kantor, she’s the senior staff administer, although she still handles special cases like you.”

Rebecca’s mouth dropped, Fran adding as she fed Rebecca another spoonful of pudding, “Dr. Kantor is rewarding my work here by sponsoring my degree in nursing.”

Rebecca finished off the remaining portion of pudding in a complete daze.

Fran wiped Rebecca’s face with a fresh napkin, her strict sounding voice brought Rebecca out of the clouds. “Alright, miss, now that you’re fed, we need to further your admission into the hospital.”

“But I’m not a patient, I’m a doctor, my office is right down the hall!”

Fran stood up, disregarding Rebecca, she then conveniently handed her a hospital gown.
“Take off that filthy blouse and put this on.”

Rebecca pouted, “I Want to see Marge!”

Fran tossed Rebecca the cheap cotton gown, “Put on this gown immediately, young lady!”

Rebecca dropped the gown to the floor, “I won’t! I won’t! I won’t!”

Fran walked by Rebecca with a confident snap in her gait, “Fine with me. Dr. Kantor won’t appreciate being disturbed but if you’re going to behave like a brat, what choice do I have.”

Once Fran left the room, Rebecca walked over to the table and commence relishing on a pudding pack.

By the time Fran returned with Dr. Kantor, Rebecca was on her second pack of pudding.

Rebecca’s greedy consumption of the pudding came to a halt once her eyes fell upon Dr. Kantor.

Rebecca squinted and she tilted her head while focusing on her former assistant.

Marge lifted her chin, eyes coldly looking over Rebecca, “I understand somebody’s having a tempter tantrum.

“Marge?”, Rebecca questioned.

Marge took a step forward, “I prefer my patients too call me Dr. Kantor. Now why aren’t you wearing the gown Fran gave you?”

“I’m not a patient”, Rebecca whined, “I’m not! Remember .. remember you brought me to see Fran. Something weird happened, something totally weird_.”

“Yes, Becky, I brought you to see Fran”, Dr. Kantor pleasantly smiled.

Rebecca sighed with relief but it was cut short when Dr. Kantor added, “_And why not? She’s your caregiver.”

Rebecca’s posture deflated, “My caregiver?”

Dr. Kantor slapped her hands together, “Come, come, Becky! Put on your gown and then Fran can escort you to your room.”

Rebecca scooped up a bite sized morsel of pudding which she quickly devoured.

“Let’s go, Becky, put on the gown”, said Kantor.

Rebecca removed herself from the chair, “Wait! I can prove I’m a .. a ..psychologist. My office is down the hall, I have lots and lots of stuff to prove it.”

Dr. Kantor stuffed her hands into her lab coat, a wily grin over her face, “Tisk-tisk, Becky. I’m afraid that your immature behavior has thwart your tenure on the staff. I’ve already contacted your mother and explained to her about your erratic behavior and emergent hiatus in your maturity. She understands that you need special care so you may someday fine a career that’s suitable for you.”

Fran picked up the gown and waved Rebecca over.

Rebecca folded her arms over her bust, “No! I won’t put it on!”

Dr. Kantor sighed, then walked over to Rebecca’s briefcase and picked it up.

“Let’s see what such an prominent member of the psychological community keeps in her briefcase.”

Dr. Kantor opened the briefcase and dumped the contents on the table.

~ A teenage romance novel - gum - a coloring book with crayons - cheap cosmetics - pudding packs.

“Becky, you had a promising career but this surely verifies the challenges your having with your maturity”, Dr. Kantor firmly stated.

Rebecca squawked as Fran placed the hospital gown on her, “But ..I …I never saw those things in my life!”

The hospital gown, teal in color, was a little large but fit Rebecca adequate enough.

Rebecca paced the room in a semi-circle, head down, deep in thought but chaotically muttering out loud. “I’m a doctor …. Went to college …. got degrees ….this can’t be happening …

Dr. Kantor cheerfully grinned, “I appreciate how much you admire me and your desire to be like me but you need to come to terms that you’re a patient.”

Rebecca paused and heatedly replied, “I don’t want to be like you, I’m better than you!”

“Seems like somebody is about to have a temper tantrum”, Fran told Dr. Kantor.

Rebecca scornfully bickered, “Shut up! You’re the patient, Fran, not me. I’m the doctor, I’m the doctor!”

“Wait!”, Rebecca blurted, “That’s it! Call Dr. Roger, we have a date tonight, yes! He’ll know me …sure, he’ll know me!”

“I think I’ve had enough of this”, Dr. Kantor firmly replied.

Rebecca stepped into Dr. Kantor’s space, “No, you gotta listen, if you call Dr. Roger, he’ll tell you that I’m not a patient. It’s that simple.”

“I’m not going to bother Dr. Cordville at Eight O’clock on a Friday night based on the whims of a confused girl.”

“Confused girl?”, Rebecca’s stale expression matched her tone, “I’m not a confused girl.”

Dr. Kantor grabbed Rebecca’s arm and literially tugged her into her private washroom across the hall.

“Look into the mirror and tell me what you see”, Dr. Kantor demanded.

Rebecca brought her eyes to her reflection. Her stylish bob was now a rumpled mess, a tame quality to her features while a murkiness had removed the intelligent spark in her eyes.

“Well, child, what do you see?”, Dr. Kantor couldn’t have sounded more harsh.

Although a frail - milquetoast timbre had replaced her once refined voice, it couldn’t hide the anger of her emotions. “I don’t know how this happened, Marge, but I promise, it won’t work. I’m smart, smarter than you and_.”

Dr. Kantor interrupted Rebecca with shrilling laughter, “Really, you’re smart. I just happen too have your high school transcripts, your grades weren’t anything to brag about.”

Dr. Kantor smugly grinned as she continued, “And your apitude test designates a rewarding future for you in either in the food service or housekeeping industry.”

Rebecca grumbled, “No it don’t.”

Dr. Kantor stepped behind Rebecca and embraced her shoulders.

“Be what it may, Becky”, Dr. Kantor whispered, “the career of Dr. Rebecca Scanlon ends here. You know that little project you and the staff were working on, the one you took full credit for.”

Rebecca remained silent, there were many research and development projects that she had taken full credit for, she was clueless to which one.

“RTMR”, Dr. Kantor callously grinned, “Remember that one? You had assigned Dr. Rosen and Dr. Youst to bring together the basic principles but when the paper was published your name was solely on it.”

Rebecca crinkled her nose upon remembering the project and she softly remarked, “Rehabilitation Through Mental Regression.”

“Correct, Becky and guess what, Dr. Rosen, Dr. Youst and myself streamlined it. You’re going to be the first subject.”

Rebecca broke free from Dr. Kantor’s embrace and swung around.

“No! That’s impossible! You can’t do that to me!”

Dr. Kantor nodded and addressed Rebecca in a unruffled tone, “You won’t be stealing anymore thunder, Rebecca, or stepping over people to build your career. When you return to that stupid farming community in Minnesota, you won’t be so pretentious anymore.”

Rebecca briskly walked out of the bathroom and found Fran standing behind a wheelchair.
“Let me wheel you to your room, Becky”, Fran sweetly hummed. “It’s in the Morton Wing of the hospital.”

Rebecca knew the Morton wing housed patients undergoing innovative new therapies, exactly the perfect place to test RTMR.

“You got to help me! You got to get me out of here!”, Rebecca pleaded with Fran.

“Becky girl, this is the perfect place for you. You’ll get to start your life over again and bring an end to your narcissistic attitude and vanity.”

Rebecca hurried to the door but was grabbed by Fran before being able to open it.

“Your behavior is deplorable!”, Fran mildly giggled.

Rebecca gave as much of a fight as possible, however, Dr. Kantor was able to administer a powerful tranqulier using a syringe into Rebecca’s arm.

Dr. Kantor with Fran’s aid managed to get Rebecca into the wheelchair.

“The jury isn’t completely out on how well this therapy is going to work but consider your status as an adult on hold for a while”, Dr. Kantor told Rebecca. “But you’ll have round the clock care, Fran will be among the providers.”

Fran mischievously grinned, “I think I’m going to enjoy this, Becky.”

Rebecca wiped the drooping bangs away from her eyes, “Please…Marge …not this..”

Dr. Kantor chuckled before conveying, “Little Becky, seems once you leave here, you’ll be the ideal milkmaid. Fully docile, fairly monotonous and minus a few points off your IQ.”

The tranqulier taking effect, Rebecca began to feel dizzy.
Sniffling before uttering in a dismal drone, “Stop using….big ..,, words…”

The room began darken and Rebecca was out cold.