<strong>Bambi Martin, with her New Friends Dr. Stan and Dr. Jackson</strong><br/><br/>Bambi couldn't breathe, the pain was so bad. It felt like her insides were closing up on themselves ... she'd never felt so awful before. She saw black spots in front of her eyes, and slumped back against the raised pillows in the bed. She was dimly aware of someone holding her arm, and a small, sharp pain following that ... and then, all of a sudden, she could breathe again.<br/><br/>Gasping, Bambi sat up. She grabbed her sides, her thin arms folded under her breasts. She looked up, and saw the concerned faces of Dr. Stan and Dr. Jackson. She gave them a small smile, to let them know she was okay. Her insides still hurt, but not as bad ... the pain was there, but, well, duller.<br/><br/>Bambi noticed the curtains drawn around the bed, too.<br/><br/><em>Oh no, am I in trouble?</em>she wondered.<br/><br/>Bambi nodded as Dr. Jackson asked her about the pain. "It probably started, oh, maybe around six this morning?" she said. "Halfway during the early flight from Miami to New York ... I work the early flight, which takes off around 5 AM. I'm supposed to go back tonight ... do think think I'll be well enough to fly?" She paused, a little uncertain. "I mean, fly in a plane. I know I can't fly by flapping my arms, I don't think anyone can do that, unless they take a lot of vitamins or something."<br/><br/>The stethoscope was cold as it traveled up Bambi's chest. She giggled madly as it came to rest between her breasts, even though laughing still made her sides hurt a little. "Ooh, that tickles," she said Dr. Jackson, grinning up at him. "Is that good?"<br/><br/>The grin faded, though, when he asked her about the cocaine. Her pretty brow furrowed, puzzled by his next question.<br/><br/>"No, I don't take drugs, and I definitely don't have any cocaine inside me!" Bambi said earnestly to Dr. Jackson. "I wouldn't have<em>anything </em>inside me." She glanced around nervously, trying to figure out if someone else might be listening to them.<br/><br/>"Besides, only an accomplice would put something inside themselves," she whispered to Dr. Jackson and Dr. Stan,  "and even if they did, they'd keep it inside a steel suitcase with an atomic lock, because that's cool. They'd never have to coat, um, merchandise in baby oil and shove it really far up their ass. Accomplices don't do that ... at all." She nodded gravely, proud that she was keeping her secret so well.<br/><br/>Although ... there was something troubling her. "Merchandise - and I don't have any, I swear, I'm not an accomplice! - that couldn't be cocaine, could it? I mean merchandise is, well, y'know, merchandise, right? Like, valuable stuff, or something?" She scratched her head. "Not that I have any ..."<br/><br/>Bambi ran her hands through her hair. "Oh no," she whispered, "I'm not in trouble, am I? Please don't let me get in trouble again ..."