Marcie Hamilton was not happy to be where she was. She was a forty five year old
divorcee, decent looking, not especially pretty, but not overweight.  She felt
her ex-boyfriend had betrayed her, her lawyer had let her down, that she was
unfairly treated by the judge.  She had a lot of company. In fact, more company
than there should have been.  She found herself in the Women's' Correctional
Unit serving a one year sentence for check fraud. She spent her time complaining
about why she was there, why she detested the place, but most of all, the
governmental bureaucracy which, she felt, frustrated her every move with delays,
mishandlings, lost files, and procedures she simply could never fathom. There
were entirely too many inmates, it seemed, and to reduce to the legal capacity,
a number were being moved to a new facility several hundred miles away.  She
was, she had been told, to be one of those.

In midmorning, a guard approached the cell Marcie shared with three other women.
Her name was called. "Marcie- that you?  Yeah, your number checks.  Look,
Marcie, the time has come for your transfer. It'll probably be later today. I
need to get you ready."

"Ready to leave this stinking place?  Gladly!  What do I do?"

"I want all your personal belongings in a plastic bag, here, this one.  I'll be
back for it in twenty minutes.  Everything goes in it except the uniform you're
wearing.  Everything - you are not allowed to carry anything with you.  You
wearing your own underclothes?"

"Yes, I am. What of it?" Marcie replied, a bit of antagonism showing.  "Take 'em
off. They go in the bag.  Or else you won't have them when you get there.  The
bag with your stuff goes to your new home separately - you'll get it back when
you arrive.  I'll seal it and you sign the seal, so no one touches it.  But
anything not in the bag stays here - got that?  That means hairpins, shoes,
everything.  Until you leave, you go barefoot and braless - understand?"  The
female guard was clear and firm.  Marcie understood.  She put all of the things
she had in the bag, including her underwear and shoes.  As instructed, she had
it ready for pickup when the guard returned.

Having disposed of her rather simple belongings, Marcie was left in prison
uniform - pants and a jacket, lettered with the institutional name.  Her feet
were bare, and under the prison suit she wore nothing.  She waited. And waited.

At lunch, she received the usual prison fare.  It was summer, and warm.  The
trip would be long, four or five hours was the guess, as the prison vans were
known to travel back roads and at unpredictable times to frustrate attempts at
interceptions and possible escapes.  She fortified herself with extra glasses of
fluid, anticipating a hot trip.

Afternoon came and went.  Evening approached.  Marcie waited.  No one came for
her, there was no message, nothing.  "Figures", she reasoned aloud, "everything
they do is screwed up.  No one knows what they're doing around here.  Probably
took the wrong person!"

Dinner time. Another guard came for Marcie, to tell her the van for that day had
been filled.  They couldn't take another inmate.  She would go the next day.
"What about my stuff?" Marcie fumed, I don't even have a toothbrush!"

"Your stuff went without you.  You'll get it back when you arrive.  You'll make
do with what you have for the night.  Tomorrow you're going anyway."  "When
tomorrow?" Marcie inquired.  "You should know the procedures - you'll get
fifteen minutes notice.  We don't announce departure times in advance."
"Great!" Marcie answered, then thought a bit, "I don't even need fifteen minutes
- I haven't even got a hairpin to pack."

The next day, Marcie went to breakfast in anticipation.  She really looked
forward to a new location, and while the ride wouldn't be any luxury trip, at
least it would be several hours on  the outside. That would be a relief in
itself.

At ten thirty Marcie received the summons, and ten minutes later a guard arrived
to escort her to the transfer station.  First she was taken to a room, where she
was told to strip before two female guards. It didn't take long, she had nothing
on but the prison jacket and pants.  She was quickly inspected, and pronounced
ready to go.  She assumed that meant no contraband had been found. Her escort
inquired, somewhat kindly, if she would like a drink, pointing out that the ride
would be long and hot.  "This is your last chance, Marcie.  I can't promise you
will even get lunch." She was taken briefly by the lunch room. It was not meal
time, but an assortment of fruit juices were available, along with a pitcher of
tea.  Warned that she might have to skip lunch, Marcie appreciated the offer,
and drank several glasses of what was offered.  "At least", she commented, "if I
don't eat, I won't have an empty stomach."

She waited a few minutes, and was taken to a room from which an outside door
could be seen, well locked.  Two uniformed male officers were waiting in chairs.
A stern-faced female clerk sat behind a counter.  Marcie was told to stand while
paperwork formalities were handled.

The two men, she perceived, were those who operated the prison system van.  They
had come from the new institution (dubbed Unit #4) to pick her up.  The clerk
yawned as she plodded through a pile of paperwork.  Errors were found.  Phone
calls were necessary.   Time dragged on. The clock on the wall showed twelve
thirty.

The clerk was impatient.  "It's almost my lunch hour - I want to get her out of
here and you guys on your way.  All right, I think we've got everything cleared
up.  Now let's see the uniform you brought for her!"

"Uniform?" the first officer inquired. "They didn't give us any uniform."

The second officer intervened.  "She was supposed to go on the van yesterday.
That crew had the uniform for her. Didn't they leave it?"

"I got no uniform for her" the clerk insisted.  "Rules are, when you pick up a
prisoner, you bring a uniform for them."

"Well", the first officer replied, "we don't have one. If the crew yesterday
didn't leave one, then I guess she has to go in what she's wearing".

"Oh, no, she doesn't!" the clerk stated emphatically.  "That uniform she's got
on is marked for Unit #1, which is us.  That uniform is ours, it's charged to
us!  We've got no uniforms to give away - we're overcrowded and short of
everything, including uniforms.  When we transfer a prisoner, the new
institution has to provide the uniform, and she puts it on here.  What you bring
for her has to be a prison uniform, marked for your place.  That uniform she's
wearing doesn't leave here!"

They argued back and forth.  Phone calls were again made.  Voices rose.  Marcie
waited, still standing.  The clock showed well past one.  The clerk was
increasingly irritated as this was going into her lunch time.  The two officers
were anxious to get going.  Marcie was tired standing, and now, after all the
liquid she had drunk, was feeling a need to relieve herself.  She interrupted,
"Please, it's getting late.  May I please use the bathroom?  I need to, before
we go!"

The clerk looked at her without sympathy.  "Look, sister, legally, you have left
here.  You've been turned over to unit #4, which is these two officers here.
You cannot go back through that door.  As far as I am concerned, you are gone
already.  All we are discussing is that uniform you have on!"

She turned back to the two men, leaving Marcie standing. "Well, what do you
propose to do? She's yours to take, but the uniform stays here!"

The men looked at each other.  "I guess she has to go in her underwear.  We've
got nothing to give her, and she has to leave the uniform here.  Look, we've got
to get going!"

The Clerk interrupted.  "In case you unobservent types can't tell, she's not
wearing any underwear.  What she had went with her personal stuff yesterday.
Look, I don't care what you do - take her naked if you want to, but she has to
leave the uniform here; and I want to get you guys out of here!"

The two men looked at each other and shrugged.  The clerk looked at Marcie.
"Let's have the uniform", she demanded, "and then you're on your way."  She
reached out her hand.

Marcie was dumfounded.  She was tired of standing, her full bladder was
uncomfortable, and now she was being ordered to take off the only clothes she
had on in front of the clerk and two men.  She started to protest, then thought
better of it.  This was going nowhere, and the longer the argument went on, the
more uncomfortable she would be.  Gingerly, turning her back to the men, she
unfastened the jacket, slipped it off, and placed it in the extended hand of the
clerk.

The clerk pointed to the pants.  Slowly, still with her back to the men, she
unfastened them and let them drop.  She stepped out of them, and handed the
pants to the clerk.  She stood, barefoot and stark naked, trying to keep her
back to the men, holding one hand across her breasts and trying to cover her
pubic area with the other.

"OK, she's yours.  Take her away!" the clerk demanded impatiently.

The men spun her around, not too roughly.  "Hands behind your back" she was
instructed.  Plastic cuffs were fastened to her wrists behind her back, ending
the use of her hands to retain the last vestige of her modesty.  She blushed
furiously, and trembled a bit.

Quickly they ushered her toward the door. "Please," she pleaded, "before we go,
I need to go to the bathroom - pretty badly.  Please let me - "

"Not here, sister!" said the clerk with a note of finality.

With one officer on each side of her, Marcie was walked, nude, through the
opened door and to the van a few feet away.  She glanced about, noting that at
least there were no other persons nearby.

The men opened the door of the van, and guided her up the steps.  Inside, there
was a long bench on each side.  There were windows, covered with heavy wire
mesh.  A screen of heavy wire mesh separated the area for the passengers from
the drivers area in front.  Marcie realized she was the only passenger.

The senior of the two men addressed her, as he locked the door behind her.
"Look, Miss Hamilton, or Marcie, or whatever you want to be called.  We're just
doing our job, but we've got to follow the rules.     Fortunately for you it's
warm, so you won't catch cold.  I wish we had a uniform for you, but we don't,
and we're not allowed to provide you any clothing other than a uniform, so
you're going to be like you are for the next four or five hours. I have no lunch
for you, but you'll get fed when you get there.  We do have some ice water, so
you can have a drink if you get thirsty."

"No, thanks.  I don't need any water. I've got too much in me now.  Please, I'm
very uncomfortable.  Isn't there some way you can let me go to the bathroom?"

The men looked at each other.  The first one went on.  "Not here. That's already
been discussed. Usually we make a bathroom stop after the first couple of hours,
if we can find a gas station with a secure women's restroom.  Then we let the
prisoners use it while we stand guard.  I don't know what we're going to do with
you, though, because you're not dressed to be taken outside.  And the cuffs have
to stay on, even in the van. That's the rules.  If you want a drink, we'll get
you a cup and a straw, and hold it for you.  But, as you say, your problem right
now isn't a lack of water!"

"Please", Marcie begged, as they started the van, "I 've got to go!  No way can
I hold for four or five hours - I'm not sure I can hold for thirty minutes! I
drank an awful lot of liquid back there, and after all the time we waited, I'm
....  well, I'm full up ... down there.  If you make me wait too long, I'm going
to leak, and it'll be in the van!"

The second officer chimed in sternly, "You'd better not leak. We'd have to write
that up as a discipline infraction, and you'd get penalty time for it.   Now,
for a while, just hold it.  We'll see if we can think of something."

Marcie sat, squirming a bit, on the hard wooden bench.  She was glad she was
facing the center of the van, so her back was toward the window.  Anyone looking
in, though, would see her naked back and know she was bare in front, too.  With
her hands bound behind her, she couldn't even attempt to cover her breasts,
which could now be viewed easily through the opposite window.

Again she pleaded.  "Can't you at least cuff my hands in front, so I could use
them at least a little cover?  It's bright daylight, and people are going to be
able to see me! Can't I have any modesty at all?"

"Rules say," she was firmly told, "hands to be cuffed behind.  Try pulling your
knees up in front of you.  We don't want to create any traffic jams, either."

She did it.  She slid down a bit, put her feet on the bench, her knees in front
of her.  The position was uncomfortable with her cuffed hands.  She squirmed a
bit more, feeling the increasing discomfort of her gradually stretching bladder.

The van rolled on, through side streets and small towns. Several times it
stopped at stop signs or traffic lights, and several people spotted Marcie in
the back.  She thought of lying on the floor, but the best she could do was try
to cover up by using the position of her legs.  Her arms were a bit cramped from
being continually held behind her.  But her most gnawing concern was the
increasing load in her bladder.  It had gone beyond just discomfort, and was now
hurting her noticeably.  She bit her lip and gritted her teeth, trying to hold
on, her pelvic muscles clenching ever tighter.

Again she pleaded with her guards.  "Please, please; let me go to the bathroom.
I have to pee so bad it hurts!  I'm trying hard to hold it, but I just won't be
able to much longer! Please?"  She was asking as nicely as possible.  She heard
the two men discussing together, but she couldn't make out what they were
saying..

"When did you last go?" officer number two asked.  "Not since about eight this
morning, and I drank at least a quart of juice and tea because they told me I
wouldn't get any lunch! Please, it hurts so bad!"   "Eight this morning? Well,
it's two thirty now, and we've got at least four hours to go. You've lasted over
six hours - I suppose it's only fair we give you a break.  Tell you what - sit
up and stop covering yourself for the next thirty minutes and we'll let you have
some relief!"

"Another half hour?" Marcie moaned, feeling her pain increasing.  "I'll try, but
why do you need me to sit up?"

"Look, lady, this wasn't our idea.  But you're putting on a show, whether you
like it or not, and we'd sort of like to see some the reactions in this little
town we're coming up to.  We're going to stop there for a few minutes!  If
you're lucky, we'll sneak you a sandwich!"

"I don't need a sandwich - I need a bathroom!  Please, please, let me pee!"

"Told you the rules.  Play along and you'll get a bit of relief."  She sensed
that the two men were rather enjoying this situation.

Shortly, they stopped in front of a convenience store with a small crowd around
it.  Anxious to alleviate her torture, Marcie sat up, erect, as she had been
told. Her bare breasts were clearly exposed in the bright sunlight coming
through the windows.  She held her legs tightly together. She looked down at
herself; with her legs pressed together, only a tuft of pubic hair could be seen
in her crotch.

One of her guards spoke to the other, "Joe, you go in first.  You can get a
couple of sandwiches, including something for our passenger, here.  I think it
would be nice if you got her a big drink, too - one of those sodas that comes in
the extra large cup.  Take your time - there's a mens' room to the left, if you
want to take a leak, first.  I'll stay and watch our cargo!"

Joe left, going to do as suggested.  Marcie fumed.   "You guys are torturing me!
You know I can't afford to drink a drop.  I hope some day you have to hurt like
this!  Please, please, have a little mercy!   You get to go to the bathroom when
you want - just let me go!  Please" .  She was  quivering in her pain, her legs
squeezed together, her breasts prominently displayed as she sat erect in front
of the window, her hands cuffed securely behind her back.  Her guard smiled a
bit.  "You'll get your chance if you go along with us.  He's getting the means
of your relief, but you'll have to be patient.  Oh, look, I think you're getting
an appreciative audience!"

Several teenagers had spotted the van and Marcie inside.  They came running
over, peering in the windows.  There were about six boys and a couple of girls.
One of the girls put her hands to her face and shrieked.  The boys just stared,
then began an agitated conversation among themselves. Marcie wanted to sink into
the floor, but remembered her instructions.  She sat rigidly erect, biting her
lip in her agony, as she tried to remain a still as possible.  The boys looked
her over thoroughly. Soon, others joined them.  A crowd was assembling around
the van.  Marcie reflected just a moment on her appearance.  Apart from her
nakedness, she considered herself a bit of a mess.  Her hair was uncombed and
she hadn't been able to even smooth it with her hands.  She had no make-up.  She
was perspiring a bit, and since she had no deodorant she suspected she was
developing a bit of body odor.  She wasn't overweight, but she knew her breasts
sagged a bit and jiggled noticeably whenever !
 she moved.

Marcie sat in agonized distress for what seemed an eternity.  Finally, Joe came
back, carrying a bag evidently containing his purchases.  He entered the van.
"Here we are, Lou - everything we wanted.  Hope I didn't make you wait too long.
You want a rest stop, yourself, before we pull off?"

Lou nodded. "Yeah, I guess I'll make a quick run for a leak.  It's going to be a
long trip. You take care of our lady, here." With that, he exited the van and
leisurely walked to the restroom.

Joe opened the door in the screen to the rear of the van.  He held out to Marcie
a large cup of cold soda, a size probably holding a pint, with a straw in the
top of it.  Also, he had a sandwich in his hand, unwrapped.  "OK, here you are.
And here's the deal.  I'll hold this, and you drink it through the straw.  You
get it all down and eat the sandwich.  I'll hold 'em for you while we drive.  If
you drain this cup, we'll let you use it.  We can't take you out with no clothes
on, but we'll try to stop and you empty yourself of as much as the cup will
hold.  That ought to let you feel a little better!"

Marcie grasped the idea.  She was in no position to negotiate.  "You mean you
want me to pee into the cup, after I drink the soda out of it?  I don't know how
I can - my hands are tied; I couldn't even hold it.  And the way I feel I could
probably fill it a couple of times over - it may overflow-"

"Oh, no, it won't."  Joe instructed her.  "You get to pee one cup after you
drink it empty.  One cup in, one cup out- get it?  You get it right, and maybe
in an hour or so we'll find a place where we can take you for a walk, like you
do a doggy.  If you don't like doing it that way, we'll just let you squirm!"

The eyes of the crowd continued to peer in at her.  Her internal torture was
making her quiver and sweat.  She just wanted to get going, and any amount of
relief she could get was better than this. She took the straw in her lips,
leaning forward, and sucked in the cool liquid.

Shortly Lou returned, expressed satisfaction at his own relief, and they were on
their way, leaving the gaping crowd behind.  Joe drove, leaving Lou to hold the
soda out to Marcie.  After she had drawn several long draughts into her, he
withdrew the cup and held out the sandwich.  She took a bite.  He alternated the
soda and the sandwich.  She continued to fidget and squirm in her torment as she
consumed her meal, eagerly awaiting the promised relief.

At length she had finished the sandwich and the plastic soda cup was empty.  Her
stomach felt filled, but her bladder felt as though it was a basketball
protruding out of her pelvis.  She couldn't touch it, but she knew she was hard
and swollen.  Again she begged, "Please- you promised!! I finished the drink.
Please, let me pee. Don't you two care?  I'm in pain, and it's getting worse! I
just can't keep holding it!"

As they drive along a stretch of rural road, Joe brought the van to a stop on
the roadside. "Lou, why don't you take care of her now - maybe it'll stop her
fussin' for a while!"

Lou came around the van and opened the rear entrance door.  He was holding the
large cup she had emptied. "Come here," he commanded her.  "Stay inside the
door, and squat - spread your knees as far as you can.  And you'd better be
neat, or we'll just forget all about it." With that, he placed the cup under her
pubic slit, holding it just a couple of inches from her body.  "You can let out
as much as the cup will hold, but keep it tidy - I don't want any mess!"

"With you holding it?" she asked quizzically.  "You can't hold it, can you?" he
answered.  She had to agree.  She tried to relax her clenched pelvic muscles to
release her bladder.  To her dismay, they wouldn't work.  She couldn't let go.
She tried pushing, relaxing, nothing happened.  Lou got tired of waiting.
"Thought you were yelling you had to go so bad.  Looks like you don't need to go
at all.  Well, either do it, or give up."   Marcie was sweating profusely.  The
pain in her bladder was severe, but she couldn't relax enough.  Maybe it was
because Lou was looking directly at her genitals, and occasionally taking in the
rest of her exposed nakedness.  Maybe it was because the internal pressure was
so great it took time to relax.  Marcie continued to plead.  "Please - just give
me a minute.  It's so full, and I've been holding so long, it's hard to relax
enough to let it start - please, just a little patience with me!"  In a moment
she was rewarded.  Lou commented, some!
 what wryly, "Well, look at that!  She really does have some pee in her!  I was
 beginning to think you were just faking it!"   At first a few drops left her,
 falling into the cup.  Quickly this became a thin stream, then a strong one.
 Marcie relaxed a bit, feeling a touch of blessed relief.  It was short-lived.

"OK, that's it.  Stop it - now!  That's all you get for now!"   She clenched
hard to stop the flow, finding it even more painful to stop than it had been to
hold.  Somehow she managed.

Lou withdrew a cup brimming with foamy yellow urine.  He inspected it briefly,
then dumped it on the ground.  He again locked the door, and returned to the
front seat of the van.  They started up.

Marcie was only slightly relieved.  She was still very uncomfortable with the
distention of her bladder, but it was not quite as bad as before.   She wished
there had been some way to wipe herself, as she could feel the wetness of urine
clinging to her genitals and pubic hair, but she was glad for any form of
relief.  She was afraid to complain, for fear that they would deny her another
opportunity.

After a few minutes, she dared to ask, "Will you give me another chance to use
the cup?  I really still  need to go badly! Please?"

Joe replied.  "Marcie, we gave you a good chance.  We threw out that cup - you
smelled it up too bad for us to keep it inside.  But you be a good girl, and in
an hour or so we'll see if we can find a place to take you for a doggy walk."

Marcie knew argument was fruitless.  She sat, squirming a bit, trying to hold
on.  She figured that the cup she had let out was probably a pint, and she was
trying to imagine how much had been in her.  The relief had been far from
complete, and she had been compelled to drink a pint of soda to get it.  Her
bladder was still uncomfortably distended, and the aching pain was beginning to
come back.

She closed her eyes, fidgeting with her bound hands, anything to distract
herself from her internal distress. Nothing really worked.  Oh, how she just
wanted to get it over!

Suddenly she felt the van come to a stop.  Her eyes opened.  They were on a
narrow, unpaved side road that appeared to have branched off the highway.  There
was nothing around but trees and bushes.  Lou turned to her, "Ready for a doggy
walk?" he inquired.

Eager for relief, but a bit suspicious, Marcie answered softly, "You bet! Can I
get out?"

"Right here, and right now - but you only get a few minutes, so you better take
care of your problem now - it's the last chance you'll get on this trip!"

The two guards opened the back door.  She was instructed to turn around,
presenting her back to them.  They reached for her hands.  Marcie hoped they
were going to take off the handcuffs. She quickly found she was wrong.  One of
the men had a length of rope, which he quickly tied to her cuffed hands. Once
this was secure, she was allowed to step down from the van.

Gingerly, she stood on the rocky road in her bare feet.  The rocks were sharp,
and they hurt when she put her weight on them.  The two men positioned
themselves on each side of her, one holding each arm.  Joe fastened the opposite
end of the rope to his belt, thus insuring that she could move only a few feet
from them.

They walked her around to the front of the van, then a few feet down the road.
"Think you can pee here?" Lou asked her.  She nodded, adding an emphatic "Yes!
Anywhere will do!" She started to squat.  Lou pulled her up.

"You stay standing.  I want no funny stuff.  Just spread your legs and let go
while we hold you. If you can't do it that way, you go back in the van! OK - now
do it!"

She tried to obey.  She spread her legs, standing erect.  Joe moved away from
her by the length of the rope, standing where he could watch her from the front.
"Do you have to watch me?" she asked.  "Do you just want to go back in the van?"
Joe replied.

She found it a bit easier to release this time.  She felt herself blushing as
her urine started to pour from her, Joe watching with interest from in front of
her, Lou bending over to watch as her held her arm from the side.

Oh, the wonderful feeling of relief, she thought.  Here she was, standing nude
on an isolated road, cuffed and linked a rope, urinating while standing up with
two men watching.  She couldn't imagine such a situation before.  It was
horribly humiliating, but maybe just a little arousing.

The stream poured and poured.  Joe seemed irritated.  "Hurry it up, or we'll
just make you shut it off and go back in the van" he addressed her, rather
roughly.  She pushed, trying to make the strong stream even stronger.  It seemed
it was going as hard as she could make it, falling between and just a bit in
front of her legs.   A big puddle was accumulating.  Her feet were standing in
it, and she felt the warm water all over them.  She was spraying all over her
legs, and could feel the wetness on her thighs.  The stream seemed like it would
never stop, but her bladder ache had ceased.  Gradually the stream slowed and
then stopped.   Joe said one word, "Through?"   She nodded.

They led her back to the van, admonishing her to wipe her wet feet on the grass
at the edge of the road.  She climbed in, feeling a bit relaxed for the first
time since the ride began.  They untied her rope leash, and she sat on the bench
again. The van started up.

Now that her bladder problem was relieved, her attention focused on her nudity.
While the men gave her occasional glances, she was more concerned with those
outside who continue to glance and then stare when they realized a naked woman
was inside.  While she had little escape, as she could only change her position
to escape the gazes, she felt the stares as though they were physical
intrusions, and was always glad when the van moved away from them.  At times
there were cars which tried to keep pace with the van, so as to keep its
passenger in view, but they were never able to do so for long.  She was thankful
that the van had no rear window, for that would have encouraged pursuers.
 
 

At length they reached their destination, the new Women's Correctional Unit; and
they stopped at the gate.  Immediately two guards approached the van, looking
inside.  An exclamation escaped them, as they saw Marcie.  "Look at this!  Our
new inmate, and she's bare naked!  When did they start bringing them in like
this?"

An exchange between the guards bringing her and the ones at the gate ensued.
The van proceeded through two gates and into a courtyard area.  Word of Marcie's
condition had evidently preceded her arrival, as a fair sized group of guards
and staff had assembled in the courtyard.  The rear door was opened, and Marcie
was led out.  She was made to stand outside, waiting, while paperwork was
shuffled among the guards and prison officials.  The others standing by, a mix
of men and women, had their eyes fixed firmly on the naked prisoner standing
before them.  It was indeed a show to which they had not been previously
treated.

Marcie was made to stand and wait for over half an hour, before being ushered
into a room inside. She was sure the process had been  prolonged to assure that
everyone present got a good view of her. Inside, she was made to stand before a
desk while further details were handled.  No one offered her any form of cover.

At long last, a guard took her into another room and spoke to her.  "I'm
supposed to strip search you, but in this case it looks like that would be
superfluous.  Let's get you some clothes".  She took Marcie into another area,
where she was handed a prison uniform.

Her ordeal was over, for now.  She reflected on her experience.  At least, she
was probably the first arrival who didn't have to be strip searched!

END