Ste Letto
08-11-2003, 10:45 AM
Okay guys, since wallcrawler asked so nice I thought I'd give it a go.
Honestly, this isn't as easy as it used to be, but I like ghis ideas, and I think I can put a few sections together.
They may come a little apart but they will come.
Here is part one.
Taking care (Part One)
Mark Hollman, 40 yrs old and Vice President of Dabstar Industries, glowered at his secretary in a way that had often driven her to tears. The pretty 22 yr old lowered her head and stared at the floor as her boss worked himself up into a tirade. She knew it wasn't her fault, and she knew it wasn't fair; but when he looked at her that way, and spoke to her that way she just seemed to go to jelly. Finally, when he screamed at her to "GET OUT!!!!" she found the energy to do just that. Tiffany rose from her seat and left the room as quickly as she could.
Tiffany Anders hated her boss. She hated the way he put her down, the way he intimidated her and belittled her. She often felt that he just walked all over her. "I'll show him", she thought grimly, "my day will come. Then I'll be the one walking all over him." She smiled at the thought.
She returned to her desk and let a daydream form in her mind. Mr Hollman was shouting at her, but instead of backing down or breaking down she was marching round to his side of the desk. She seemed to have grown while he seemed to have shrunk. By the time she reached him he was no bigger than a small boy. Still he protested, but she just laughed and ignored him. She picked him up out of his seat and carried him round to the front of his desk. She flung him to the floor, where he lay face down. Tiffany stepped onto his left calf, heel first, feeling it dig in through the material of his expensive suit, cutting in agonisingly. As she stepped up, her weight drove the steel spike deep into flesh and muscle. Mr Hollman screamed a high pitched scream. She twisted her heel to torture him more. Then she marched up his body. Each step meant a heel sinking deep into his now naked body, leaving a trail of blood.
She hopped off him and kicked him over onto his back. Now she could attack his front. He was still shrinking. Soon he was only a foot tall. Tiffany stood on his belly and chest, magically barefoot, letting her heels crush his stomach, wiggling her toes gaily. Mr Hollman's face turned scarlet. His eyes bulged. He choked coughed and gagged. Tiffany was lost to the world as her fantasy played out.
In his plush office, as Tiffany's footsteps faded away, Mark picked up the phone and punched speed dial home. He rolled his eyes and clenched his fists in impatient fury, waiting for his wife to answer.
"Hello, Hollman residence" she announced cheerfully. "Cut the crap", said Mark angrily, "and listen up." His wife stilled and went cold on the other end of the line. "That dumb bitch of a secretary of mine has just told me that a delegation of Japanese businessmen are in town tonight and I'm supposed to be entertaining them. God knows what we're gonna do with them. If she can't find a suitable venue I'm gonna have to bring them home. How they'll feel after I've subjected them to your cooking is anybody's guess." His wife's face flushed. "Anyway, cook something Japanese, if they don't come just bin it. That's all it'll be good for anyway." With that Mark slammed the phone down, thinking only of how inconvenienced he was going to be.
He pressed the intercom on his mahogany desk, sounding a buzzer on Tiffany's. After a moment she answered. "Because of you I have to go out now, try not to screw up again. At least for the rest of the day." Then he stood, gathered a few things into his briefcase and stormed out.
In the basement car park he flung his case onto the back seat of his BMW and climbed in. He started the engine, and cancelled the warning about seatbelts. He never wore a seatbelt. Seatbelts were for wimps and losers. Gunning the engine unnecessarily, he drove up to the security point then was out onto the expressway.
At each set of traffic lights he grew steadily more irate and aggressive. Finally he shot through a set that had already changed to red. Suddenly, his world exploded. One second he was master of all, the next he was flying out of control.
The truck that hit him was a concrete mixer. The impact, directly in his side, sent his car spinning madly across the road. Rubber tracks burned onto the asphalt, sending accrid smoke rising into the air. He hit kerb at force, flipping his car over, the wheels spinning madly. The top of the car screamed a metallic scream as it scraped across pavement, until the crash barrier stopped it.
He tried to turn his head, but it felt as if he was being held. He tried to move anything but found he could not. His body felt odd. He was aware of heat, and severe pain, but he could not move. He screamed for help, then passed out.
It took just over an hour for the emergency services to move him from the site to hospital. The hospital was a private clinic, specified by his wife when they called her. It was in a remote location, out of state, in the hills, surrounded by security gates and forestation.
When Mark awoke he found himself lying on a low bed, he tried to move, but couldn't. He tried to speak, but all that came out was slurred and meaningless sounds. Above him he caught sight of a ceiling mounted mirror. He was reflected in that mirror. He looked like a living version of the symbol that is used for men's toilets. The support on which he lay was man shaped, with a raised, padded edge. A beautiful nurse sat reading. Noticing that he was awake, the goddess looked down at him from her chair. She was blonde and California beautiful, healthy, athletic and tanned. She wore a white cotton minidress, opaque white tights and flat ruber soled lace up shoes. She sat with her legs crossed. The lowness of the bed on which Mark lay meant he was looking up at her. Her foot hung over his chest, and he could see the sole of her shoe. The sole was discoloured, dusty and slightly pitted with damage.
"I know you're probably confused and a bit scared right now Mr Hoffman" she began. Mark tried to glower at her, "Hollman, it's Hollman you bitch," he tried to say, but all that came out was "Hwwwmm, hhheh, Hwwwmmmm nnn, nerrrr." The beautiful nurse smiled condescendingly at his efforts to speak, "I'm sorry, I can't understand a word you're saying." Despite his dazed condition, Mark thought she didn't look very sorry, he thought she looked more amused. "But you can rest assured, with an all female staff here at the Parker Institute we'll be taking very good care of you."
With that she smiled a dazzling, yet somehow terrifying smile, and returned to her book. He noted that she had effectively dismissed him, and that there was nothing he could do about it. He noted her ease and comfort with the situation, in contrast with his own feelings. He noted her crossed leg bobbing, and, although Mark wasn't sure; he thought she seemed to be chuckling just a little.
Honestly, this isn't as easy as it used to be, but I like ghis ideas, and I think I can put a few sections together.
They may come a little apart but they will come.
Here is part one.
Taking care (Part One)
Mark Hollman, 40 yrs old and Vice President of Dabstar Industries, glowered at his secretary in a way that had often driven her to tears. The pretty 22 yr old lowered her head and stared at the floor as her boss worked himself up into a tirade. She knew it wasn't her fault, and she knew it wasn't fair; but when he looked at her that way, and spoke to her that way she just seemed to go to jelly. Finally, when he screamed at her to "GET OUT!!!!" she found the energy to do just that. Tiffany rose from her seat and left the room as quickly as she could.
Tiffany Anders hated her boss. She hated the way he put her down, the way he intimidated her and belittled her. She often felt that he just walked all over her. "I'll show him", she thought grimly, "my day will come. Then I'll be the one walking all over him." She smiled at the thought.
She returned to her desk and let a daydream form in her mind. Mr Hollman was shouting at her, but instead of backing down or breaking down she was marching round to his side of the desk. She seemed to have grown while he seemed to have shrunk. By the time she reached him he was no bigger than a small boy. Still he protested, but she just laughed and ignored him. She picked him up out of his seat and carried him round to the front of his desk. She flung him to the floor, where he lay face down. Tiffany stepped onto his left calf, heel first, feeling it dig in through the material of his expensive suit, cutting in agonisingly. As she stepped up, her weight drove the steel spike deep into flesh and muscle. Mr Hollman screamed a high pitched scream. She twisted her heel to torture him more. Then she marched up his body. Each step meant a heel sinking deep into his now naked body, leaving a trail of blood.
She hopped off him and kicked him over onto his back. Now she could attack his front. He was still shrinking. Soon he was only a foot tall. Tiffany stood on his belly and chest, magically barefoot, letting her heels crush his stomach, wiggling her toes gaily. Mr Hollman's face turned scarlet. His eyes bulged. He choked coughed and gagged. Tiffany was lost to the world as her fantasy played out.
In his plush office, as Tiffany's footsteps faded away, Mark picked up the phone and punched speed dial home. He rolled his eyes and clenched his fists in impatient fury, waiting for his wife to answer.
"Hello, Hollman residence" she announced cheerfully. "Cut the crap", said Mark angrily, "and listen up." His wife stilled and went cold on the other end of the line. "That dumb bitch of a secretary of mine has just told me that a delegation of Japanese businessmen are in town tonight and I'm supposed to be entertaining them. God knows what we're gonna do with them. If she can't find a suitable venue I'm gonna have to bring them home. How they'll feel after I've subjected them to your cooking is anybody's guess." His wife's face flushed. "Anyway, cook something Japanese, if they don't come just bin it. That's all it'll be good for anyway." With that Mark slammed the phone down, thinking only of how inconvenienced he was going to be.
He pressed the intercom on his mahogany desk, sounding a buzzer on Tiffany's. After a moment she answered. "Because of you I have to go out now, try not to screw up again. At least for the rest of the day." Then he stood, gathered a few things into his briefcase and stormed out.
In the basement car park he flung his case onto the back seat of his BMW and climbed in. He started the engine, and cancelled the warning about seatbelts. He never wore a seatbelt. Seatbelts were for wimps and losers. Gunning the engine unnecessarily, he drove up to the security point then was out onto the expressway.
At each set of traffic lights he grew steadily more irate and aggressive. Finally he shot through a set that had already changed to red. Suddenly, his world exploded. One second he was master of all, the next he was flying out of control.
The truck that hit him was a concrete mixer. The impact, directly in his side, sent his car spinning madly across the road. Rubber tracks burned onto the asphalt, sending accrid smoke rising into the air. He hit kerb at force, flipping his car over, the wheels spinning madly. The top of the car screamed a metallic scream as it scraped across pavement, until the crash barrier stopped it.
He tried to turn his head, but it felt as if he was being held. He tried to move anything but found he could not. His body felt odd. He was aware of heat, and severe pain, but he could not move. He screamed for help, then passed out.
It took just over an hour for the emergency services to move him from the site to hospital. The hospital was a private clinic, specified by his wife when they called her. It was in a remote location, out of state, in the hills, surrounded by security gates and forestation.
When Mark awoke he found himself lying on a low bed, he tried to move, but couldn't. He tried to speak, but all that came out was slurred and meaningless sounds. Above him he caught sight of a ceiling mounted mirror. He was reflected in that mirror. He looked like a living version of the symbol that is used for men's toilets. The support on which he lay was man shaped, with a raised, padded edge. A beautiful nurse sat reading. Noticing that he was awake, the goddess looked down at him from her chair. She was blonde and California beautiful, healthy, athletic and tanned. She wore a white cotton minidress, opaque white tights and flat ruber soled lace up shoes. She sat with her legs crossed. The lowness of the bed on which Mark lay meant he was looking up at her. Her foot hung over his chest, and he could see the sole of her shoe. The sole was discoloured, dusty and slightly pitted with damage.
"I know you're probably confused and a bit scared right now Mr Hoffman" she began. Mark tried to glower at her, "Hollman, it's Hollman you bitch," he tried to say, but all that came out was "Hwwwmm, hhheh, Hwwwmmmm nnn, nerrrr." The beautiful nurse smiled condescendingly at his efforts to speak, "I'm sorry, I can't understand a word you're saying." Despite his dazed condition, Mark thought she didn't look very sorry, he thought she looked more amused. "But you can rest assured, with an all female staff here at the Parker Institute we'll be taking very good care of you."
With that she smiled a dazzling, yet somehow terrifying smile, and returned to her book. He noted that she had effectively dismissed him, and that there was nothing he could do about it. He noted her ease and comfort with the situation, in contrast with his own feelings. He noted her crossed leg bobbing, and, although Mark wasn't sure; he thought she seemed to be chuckling just a little.