ogilthorpe
12-09-2002, 8:25 PM
Chapter 3
Ronnie hesitated for a moment. The pain in his midsection was intense. He could feel his internal organs being compressed by the insistent pressure of Melanie’s sole. Ronnie took a great chance, and allowed his eyes to stray away from his captor’s commanding gaze. He looked down at Melanie’s pump, which was slowly sinking into the soft flesh of his abdomen, like a proud and beautiful warship going down by the bow in a sea of flesh.
In some ways he was just as shocked by his own size as the students had been. He had never been this large before; had never even thought of being this large. The notion occurred to him, that if he could stand he would almost come up to Dr. Burgess’s chest. But somehow, that didn’t make Melanie’s probing foot any less menacing or any less beautiful.
Abruptly his attention came back to Melanie’s face. She spoke to him again, in a voice whose sultry tone denied the severity of her words.
“Perhaps your brain is more damaged than I thought. Boy, I told you to tell me about yourself. Where are you from, and how did you come to be living in the sewers? Hurry now. Tell me quickly. If you can’t talk, then I’ll have to find something else to do with you.”
Ronnie closed his eyes, as he found her penetrating gaze far more disconcerting than either his abnormal size or the agony in his mid-section. Then he finally began to tell his story.
“Ma’am I was decanted on a male farm not very many miles from here. They raised worker males mostly. I wasn’t much different than any of the others in my batch, except that the schoolwork seemed to come more easily to me. I was waiting with all the other young men to be auctioned off, when a lady shows up from the Texas Men’s Ranch. She bought me and 50 or so guys who were the best students, and the next thing I knew, I was out in the desert studying to be a personal servant.”
“You must have felt pretty proud. TMR is about the best advanced training school in the country.”
“Well, Ma’am, I didn’t have the time to think about it much. I’m sure you know, Ma’am that personal servant training is tough, and there is a higher flunkout rate than even the science and engineering ranches. And Miss Laura, she was the one who purchased us, supervised all our classes personally. Out of all the fellows that started with me, only 8 of us made it all the way through. Every time we took an exam, the fellow with the lowest score was sent to Miss Laura for disposition.”
“This Miss Laura, she got to squish them then.”
“Well some of them I suppose. She never did anything like that in front of us. Once in a while she’d give a boy to one of her assistants. They were young, of course, and I think it made them feel more secure somehow, that they could shrink a man right down and crush him in front of the rest of us. But Miss Laura never did anything like that. Nope, they just went to see Miss Laura in her private chambers, and most were never seen again. I know she kept some of them. She liked to use men as jewelry, and every once in a while we’d see one of us on an earring or a bracelet. I had the same roommate for almost 3 years. We were really close, but he got the low score on the computer science final, and he was gone. Months later on graduation day, I looked down and there he was, Miss Laura’s toe ring. He kind of nodded to me. He looked awfully happy. I figured at the time that, other than having his hands sewn to his feet, he was about the luckiest guy in the world.”
“Miss Laura sounds like quite a teacher.”
“Yes, Ma’am, she was, and a good saleslady too. That’s one time I really was proud. We didn’t go to an auction house. Instead, women would fly in just to inspect the new graduates and make a selection. When it was my turn, I would run out and prostrate myself. And then Miss Laura would rest her foot on my head, while she launched into this long speech about all the good things that I could do, and how talented I was. Just thinking how much Miss thought of me, well I just wanted to bust with happiness. Of course I knew a lot of it was a sales pitch, and it worked too. Because only a few days later I was laying quietly in my sleeping box, but I could hear that Miss Laura was talking to some ladies about me. Suddenly I was rolling on the floor. I was flipped over on my back. I looked up to see a beautiful Latin girl smiling down at me. She was holding the size-changing gun. She expanded up to a meter, and stepped right up on me. Her wonderful petite brown feet pressed into my chest, and I could hear her mother to this day. “Now Rosita, don’t hurt it till we’re certain we can afford it.”
Melanie suddenly cut off his narrative. “That’s enough for now. Be quiet boy. I have to check on my students. When I’m done I might want to hear some more.” Suddenly Melanie stood. Ronnie opened his eyes, but at his place under the desk, he could no longer see her face. His midsection was now freed from the crushing pressure of her pump, but the sharp burning as blood rushed into the bruised, compressed and oxygen deprived tissue of his gut, was for the moment, even more miserable. As the agony subsided, he became aware of all the noise, as men screamed and women giggled or tried to talk over the din. Then her foot surged forward, and came to rest on Ronnie’s upper chest. The weight on him slowly began to intensify. Melanie had not planned on stopping so soon. She felt inexplicably angry. She pictured her old size 12 pump, the one that pressed into Ronnie’s chest. It was not petite. Elegant perhaps, but definitely not petite.
Up above Melanie patiently surveyed the scene before her. Mona and Mary had arranged the 4 men in a single line, making a long walkway of exposed stomachs, chests and heads. Their arms were bound as Ronnie’s, but she noticed that her enterprising assistants had found some additional restraints, and had tied the shoulders of the one fellow to the spread ankles of the next. This left just enough room between the head of number 1 and the groin of number 2 to allow the students to step down on the solid floor before encountering the next bit of squirming male anatomy. The students formed their own column by the feet of the first man, and a succession of them were deliberately making their way down the male roadway. Most of the young women were unsteady, looking like apprentice tight-rope-walkers on their first trip without a net. Occasionally one of the girls would lose her balance and come sliding off her man, then with a bit of nervous laughter she would awkwardly jog to the end of the line. Mona was getting into the spirit of the thing by shouting out a cadence for the girls to keep in the same marching rhythm.
“ Tummy, chest, head, floor. Tummy, chest, head, floor. Tummy, chest, head floor. C’mon girls, Keep up the pace.”
Melanie wasn’t certain how much technique was being learned, all in all; everyone seemed to be having a fun time. Melanie had meant to tell them to quiet it down, but the situation was so entertaining, that she decided to watch for a few minutes. She had not forgotten the man under her desk, and as she leaned forward on her desk, her foot pressed harder into Ronnie’s much-abused torso. For the time being, she was content to watch the show and to experience Ronnie’s chest slowly rise and fall under her foot.
The situation above was deteriorating. It was beginning to look more like a sorority party than a serious learning experience. The women waiting in line were clapping their hands in accompaniment of Mona’s cadence. Some had taken to saluting the “Drill Sergeant” and calling out “Yes, Sir!” as they marched past Mona on their way down the squealing male pathway. The men were not quite so loud and were writhing far less as they come nearer to exhaustion. Still despite the cacophony, Melanie noted that the trampling was going more smoothly; at least none of the women were slipping off.
Ronnie hesitated for a moment. The pain in his midsection was intense. He could feel his internal organs being compressed by the insistent pressure of Melanie’s sole. Ronnie took a great chance, and allowed his eyes to stray away from his captor’s commanding gaze. He looked down at Melanie’s pump, which was slowly sinking into the soft flesh of his abdomen, like a proud and beautiful warship going down by the bow in a sea of flesh.
In some ways he was just as shocked by his own size as the students had been. He had never been this large before; had never even thought of being this large. The notion occurred to him, that if he could stand he would almost come up to Dr. Burgess’s chest. But somehow, that didn’t make Melanie’s probing foot any less menacing or any less beautiful.
Abruptly his attention came back to Melanie’s face. She spoke to him again, in a voice whose sultry tone denied the severity of her words.
“Perhaps your brain is more damaged than I thought. Boy, I told you to tell me about yourself. Where are you from, and how did you come to be living in the sewers? Hurry now. Tell me quickly. If you can’t talk, then I’ll have to find something else to do with you.”
Ronnie closed his eyes, as he found her penetrating gaze far more disconcerting than either his abnormal size or the agony in his mid-section. Then he finally began to tell his story.
“Ma’am I was decanted on a male farm not very many miles from here. They raised worker males mostly. I wasn’t much different than any of the others in my batch, except that the schoolwork seemed to come more easily to me. I was waiting with all the other young men to be auctioned off, when a lady shows up from the Texas Men’s Ranch. She bought me and 50 or so guys who were the best students, and the next thing I knew, I was out in the desert studying to be a personal servant.”
“You must have felt pretty proud. TMR is about the best advanced training school in the country.”
“Well, Ma’am, I didn’t have the time to think about it much. I’m sure you know, Ma’am that personal servant training is tough, and there is a higher flunkout rate than even the science and engineering ranches. And Miss Laura, she was the one who purchased us, supervised all our classes personally. Out of all the fellows that started with me, only 8 of us made it all the way through. Every time we took an exam, the fellow with the lowest score was sent to Miss Laura for disposition.”
“This Miss Laura, she got to squish them then.”
“Well some of them I suppose. She never did anything like that in front of us. Once in a while she’d give a boy to one of her assistants. They were young, of course, and I think it made them feel more secure somehow, that they could shrink a man right down and crush him in front of the rest of us. But Miss Laura never did anything like that. Nope, they just went to see Miss Laura in her private chambers, and most were never seen again. I know she kept some of them. She liked to use men as jewelry, and every once in a while we’d see one of us on an earring or a bracelet. I had the same roommate for almost 3 years. We were really close, but he got the low score on the computer science final, and he was gone. Months later on graduation day, I looked down and there he was, Miss Laura’s toe ring. He kind of nodded to me. He looked awfully happy. I figured at the time that, other than having his hands sewn to his feet, he was about the luckiest guy in the world.”
“Miss Laura sounds like quite a teacher.”
“Yes, Ma’am, she was, and a good saleslady too. That’s one time I really was proud. We didn’t go to an auction house. Instead, women would fly in just to inspect the new graduates and make a selection. When it was my turn, I would run out and prostrate myself. And then Miss Laura would rest her foot on my head, while she launched into this long speech about all the good things that I could do, and how talented I was. Just thinking how much Miss thought of me, well I just wanted to bust with happiness. Of course I knew a lot of it was a sales pitch, and it worked too. Because only a few days later I was laying quietly in my sleeping box, but I could hear that Miss Laura was talking to some ladies about me. Suddenly I was rolling on the floor. I was flipped over on my back. I looked up to see a beautiful Latin girl smiling down at me. She was holding the size-changing gun. She expanded up to a meter, and stepped right up on me. Her wonderful petite brown feet pressed into my chest, and I could hear her mother to this day. “Now Rosita, don’t hurt it till we’re certain we can afford it.”
Melanie suddenly cut off his narrative. “That’s enough for now. Be quiet boy. I have to check on my students. When I’m done I might want to hear some more.” Suddenly Melanie stood. Ronnie opened his eyes, but at his place under the desk, he could no longer see her face. His midsection was now freed from the crushing pressure of her pump, but the sharp burning as blood rushed into the bruised, compressed and oxygen deprived tissue of his gut, was for the moment, even more miserable. As the agony subsided, he became aware of all the noise, as men screamed and women giggled or tried to talk over the din. Then her foot surged forward, and came to rest on Ronnie’s upper chest. The weight on him slowly began to intensify. Melanie had not planned on stopping so soon. She felt inexplicably angry. She pictured her old size 12 pump, the one that pressed into Ronnie’s chest. It was not petite. Elegant perhaps, but definitely not petite.
Up above Melanie patiently surveyed the scene before her. Mona and Mary had arranged the 4 men in a single line, making a long walkway of exposed stomachs, chests and heads. Their arms were bound as Ronnie’s, but she noticed that her enterprising assistants had found some additional restraints, and had tied the shoulders of the one fellow to the spread ankles of the next. This left just enough room between the head of number 1 and the groin of number 2 to allow the students to step down on the solid floor before encountering the next bit of squirming male anatomy. The students formed their own column by the feet of the first man, and a succession of them were deliberately making their way down the male roadway. Most of the young women were unsteady, looking like apprentice tight-rope-walkers on their first trip without a net. Occasionally one of the girls would lose her balance and come sliding off her man, then with a bit of nervous laughter she would awkwardly jog to the end of the line. Mona was getting into the spirit of the thing by shouting out a cadence for the girls to keep in the same marching rhythm.
“ Tummy, chest, head, floor. Tummy, chest, head, floor. Tummy, chest, head floor. C’mon girls, Keep up the pace.”
Melanie wasn’t certain how much technique was being learned, all in all; everyone seemed to be having a fun time. Melanie had meant to tell them to quiet it down, but the situation was so entertaining, that she decided to watch for a few minutes. She had not forgotten the man under her desk, and as she leaned forward on her desk, her foot pressed harder into Ronnie’s much-abused torso. For the time being, she was content to watch the show and to experience Ronnie’s chest slowly rise and fall under her foot.
The situation above was deteriorating. It was beginning to look more like a sorority party than a serious learning experience. The women waiting in line were clapping their hands in accompaniment of Mona’s cadence. Some had taken to saluting the “Drill Sergeant” and calling out “Yes, Sir!” as they marched past Mona on their way down the squealing male pathway. The men were not quite so loud and were writhing far less as they come nearer to exhaustion. Still despite the cacophony, Melanie noted that the trampling was going more smoothly; at least none of the women were slipping off.