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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
HONEY HAVEN
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Chapter Six
I stood on the sidewalk, the dwarf beside me. It was hot. He held a
sun umbrella over my head. In my mind, though, I was still standing
outside the chalet, needing no coat, despite the snow, my nakedness. The
fire of the burning chalet warmed my body. The dwarf was coming from
behind the house, again, driving the limo. I could hear the clatter of trash
cans as, unable to see over the limoÕs dashboards, he ran over them.
He stopped. I got in. Nude, I took over the wheel. I might not have a
license, but at least I could see the road. With my naked toes just able to
touch the accelerator, we took off.
ÒThey had an electrical wiring problem,Ó I told the dwarf, reminding
him of our excuse. He chuckled.
ÒOh, shit!Ó I exclaimed.
ÒWhatÕs the matter?Ó he asked.
ÒI forgot my teddy bear!Ó I screamed. I stamped on the brakes. The
limo skidded on the ice-sheened road. It was a long skid, saving us both, I
think. On a dry road the car would have stopped and thrown us both
through its front windshield.
When the car came to a stop, I found the dwarf standing beside me,
on the seat. HeÕd gotten hold of the wheel and saved it, somehow, from
completely leaving the road, though the back end of the car had left it. He
looked at me. His eyes were quizzical, yet perhaps slightly amused.
ÒYouÕve just killed a dozen people and youÕre worried about your
teddy bear?Ó he asked.
ÒIÕve had him all my life!Ó I exclaimed. ÒAnd... and...Ó I said, thinking,
my mind beginning to slow after the excitement of starting the fire. ÒAnd
my purse is back there, and my clothes, and all my money, that I earned--Ó
I stopped. I didnÕt really want to explain how IÕd earned most of that
money, posing nude for Svetlana.
ÒDonÕt worry,Ó the dwarf told me. ÒWe can sell the limo. I have
some, er, friends, well, old friends, really, in Venice. They donÕt care how
a nice car like this comes to them, or who the real owner is. I donÕt have
any dough either, so IÕll sell the limo and weÕll split the proceeds.Ó
ÒHmmm,Ó I said. I was learning not to just blindly trust people
anymore. ÒHow do I know youÕll do that? What am I to you?Ó
ÒWell,Ó he said, ÒI need you to get the limo to Venice for me.Ó
ÒOh, yeah,Ó I said. I looked up at the sky. Cirrus clouds were
floating placidly in the upper atmosphere, oblivious to the deaths in the
chalet behind us. Perhaps they were all up there now, looking down at us,
smoldering with anger, like the mortal flesh theyÕd been driven out of,
because theyÕd been bested by a little slave-girl and their indentured
dwarf.
ÒPlus,Ó the dwarf added, ÒI owed them three more years. ThatÕs a
long time when youÕre 49. I donÕt have that much time left.Ó
ÒYouÕre 49?Ó I gushed. ÒI donÕt think IÕve ever met anybody that old-
-at least, I donÕt think so. Except my grandmother, of course, but she died
last year. She was 82.Ó
The dwarf figeted with his fingers. ÒI wasnÕt always 49,Ó he said,
hopefully.
ÒIÕm just your driver,Ó I told him. ÒAnd you owe me for half the limo
when you sell it. A FAIR half.Ó
ÒOf course,Ó he gulped.
ÒYouÕd make a nice big roasted sausage in a butcher shop,Ó I warned
him, half-teasingly. He looked at me squarely.
ÒI donÕt think you have it in you to roast me,Ó he said.
ÒWell, youÕre right,Ó I told him. I giggled, feeling a sudden release
of tension. It was over. It was truly over. IÕd survived, IÕd won. ÒYou
remind me of my teddy bear,Ó I told him. ÒExcept heÕs MUCH cuter.Ó
He smiled, enjoying the compliment, I guess. Perhaps it was the
first real compliment anyone had ever given him. Outside, the snow sifted
softly down from the frigid air onto the hood of our limo. It was quiet.
There was no traffic on the road, which was good, I suppose, since our
limo wasnÕt only off the road, at its tail, it was also across the yellow
dividing line of the road, our hood blocking the other lane.
ÒPerhaps I will give you half, after all,Ó the dwarf said.
ÒNo maybe or perhaps, you can rely on MurrayÕs maps,Ó I told him. He
looked at me quizzicly.
ÒDonÕt sue me for detrimental reliance if I short you a dollar,Ó he
said, ÒBut, okay, I promise IÕll give you half.Ó
ÒA FAIR half?Ó I asked him.
ÒYeah... a fair half,Ó he said. ÒNow letÕs get out of here. You may not
answering a load of questions from the police, but IÕm in no mood to. IÕm
not 12-years-old.
ÒIÕm not 12, IÕm 14!Ó I said to him, slightly aghast. I thrust my bare
tits at him to emphasize the point. (Silly, I know, but I was feeling giddy
after escaping from that horrid chalet.)
ÒGood. ÔDrive, she said,ÕÓ the dwarf replied.
ÒHuh?Ó I asked.
ÒGet this fucking thing out of the road!Ó the dwarf said, his voice
rising.
ÒDonÕt yell at me,Ó I told him. ÒErnest never yelled at me once.Ó
ÒIÕm not a teddy bear,Ó the dwarf said. ÒIÕm a human bean.Ó
I laughed. ÒYou look like a human bean,Ó I told him. ÒAnd youÕd look
even better as a human BAKED bean.Ó Then, hoping IÕd gotten the last
word, I glanced in the rear view mirror, thinking I had to back up, then
remembered not to, since there was an Alpine cliff face not too far to our
rear. So I looked both ways instead and then, a bit nimbly, began
maneauvering the limo in a series of halting jerks back and forth to get it
(hopefully) back on the road.
ÒUwaaah!Ó the dwarf cried, suddenly tumbling into the footwell in
front of his seat.
ÒSorry,Ó I said, as the car lurched wildly and then halted. ÒIÕm not
too good at driving. These are sort of my first lessons.Ó
ÒSort of?Ó the dwarf asked. He gazed up at me from the footwell.
ÒI drove the bumper cars a lot at the Little Miss Fairyland park,Ó I
told him. In Peoria.Ó
ÒHuh?Ó
ÒPeoria, Iowa,Ó I said.
ÒPEE-oria?Ó he giggled.
ÒDonÕt make fun of my home town,Ó I snapped at him.
ÒYouÕd make a good mistress,Ó he told me.
ÒIÕm just the driver,Ó I said. Then I started moving the car again, in
car-shuddering lurches. At last I got it back on the road.
ÒCould you spread your legs a little?Ó the dwarf asked. ÒThen I
could see between them better.Ó
ÒGet back up the seat!Ó I said. He scrambled up, quite obediently.
ÒI suppose this is better,Ó he said, looking over at me. ÒI always
was a tit man.Ó
ÒEyes front,Ó I said. ÒI need you to watch the road with me. Stand
up, little man. I donÕt trust myself with this big car. ItÕs like a boat.Ó
I was scared to death when I saw the first car approaching us. Not
about the chalet, that seemed long-forgotten now. I could hardly get in
trouble for it, anyway. After all, theyÕd kept me prisoner, and sexually
tortured me. No, I was worried IÕd somehow manage to slam head-on into
the approaching car.
ÒJust slow down,Ó the dwarf told me.
ÒYeah,Ó I agreed.
A man came up beside us on the street. He was reading the paper. A
story below the fold read, ÒSwiss fire kills 12. Arson suspected.Ó I didnÕt
want to read it. Apparently he already had, or didnÕt care to. He was
reading the paperÕs sports page. He was tall, mostly bald, with a well-
trimmed goatee. It was completely gray, like the hair on his head. He
stood with a stately grace and was smoking a cigar. He was dressed in a
three-piece suit. He looked at me, briefly, then back at his paper.
My gaze lingered on him. Would I be his age, someday? Impossible! a
little voice insisted inside my head. It really didnÕt seem possible, I
agreed. He had always been old. That was just the way he was. He was
old, I was young. The world had been made this way and, except for my
grandmother and Kurt Cobain (who, I decided, had been made to die,
somehow) was unchanging. An unchanging world, populated by people who
had always been old, and people like me who had always, and always would
be, young. And the little kids of the world would always be little kids. I
suppose I should have numbered my 12 captors in the chalet among the
dead but, somehow, I didnÕt. IÕd never really seen them die. IÕd heard them
scream but I hadnÕt seen them die. So I didnÕt really know they were dead,
even though, of course, they were. But they werenÕt dead like Kurt Cobain
or my grandmom. They were dead because they were bad guys, and on T.V.
bad guys always wound up dead. I didnÕt count the bad guys on T.V. among
the dead either.
I drew in a breath, enjoying the sweet summer air. Angelo (that was
the dwarfÕs name, Angelo Muscrat) had bought me an old coat in a surplus
store in Milan. Now I was more prettily dressed. Precocious, some might
say, but I didnÕt feel precocious. Just sexy. I wore a tight, abbreviated
black t-shirt. It was made of silk. I wasnÕt wearing any bra with it, and I
hoped nothing excited me, because there was nothing to stop my nipples
from sprouting into my shirt. It clung to my boobs, molding them, showing
them off. I shivered, purposely. My breasts, high and full and gently
rounded, jiggled. My waif-thin midriff, hugged by my shirt, was left
bereft of any attire below my breasts. IÕd cut off my shirt to show my
belly. Despite frequent pokings by men, it was still flat. Luck, I suppose,
or perhaps there was a surprise in my future. I hoped not. The father was
probably dead, unless it was Dave. He wasnÕt dead, but I didnÕt want to see
him again. He could keep Katrina. And she could keep him. I had Angelo as
my companion now. HeÕd showed me the receipt for the limo. It was
unsigned, of course. (We didnÕt sell to a legitimate dealer.) But I knew it
was authentic, and heÕd given me half, just like heÕd said, a fair half.
Small white shorts circled the tops of my legs. Below, I was naked,
except for my new tennis shoes. I wore plastic bangles on my wrists.
They reminded me of handcuffs, but I didnÕt mind.
A greenish-gray car approached. ÒBallard Taxicab Co.Ó a sign said on
its roof. It pulled up beside the man. He looked up from his paper, then at
me.
ÒIÕll pay your fare if you let him drop me first,Ó he told me and
Angelo. ÒIÕm late for my next appointment.Ó
I brushed back my blonde hair. It whispered over my shoulders,
silken strands of gold on black silk.
ÒOkay,Ó I said, answering for us both. I wasnÕt in any hurry. Angelo
wasnÕt either, I suppose. HeÕd been indentured for the last four years. I
was a newly-freed sex slave. Neither of us really had anyplace to go.
Back to Peoria for me, I suppose, but I was in no hurry. I might do more
fashion work, but I was so new to it, and my first experience with it had
been, well, bizzare.
The driver unlocked the door of his cab. The tall, gray-bearded man
opened it, held it for Angelo and me. We got in, he followed. The cabÕs
radio was on.
ÒI was exploring certain trajectories that I saw moving across the
mental sky of the planet, following them to what seemed to be their likely
meeting point,Ó a voice on the radio said. The cabbie nodded. To himself
he mumbled, ÒCerebral activity has been transferred from inside the
individualÕs skull... into the larger mental space of the planetary
communications landscape.Ó
ÒWhere are you going?Ó the gray-bearded man beside Angelo asked
him. Angelo turned, looked at me.
ÒDo you know where youÕre going to?Ó he asked.
ÒUm,Ó I said. I bit my lip. There was a pause, I could think of
nothing to say.
ÒYou canÕt just say that these huge figments and fantasies can be
taken at face value; they canÕt,Ó the voice on the radio protested.
Apparently the announcer was having a disagreement with him. The cabbie
reached out and abruptly cut the argument off by turning the dial.
ÒPicture them now,Ó a voice on the radio sang.
ÒSo quiet and still,
ÒSinging their praises on high to the big Buddah Bill.
ÒFundraising nuns writing checks for $10,000 or more.
ÒHanding them to, the guru Al Gore.Ó
ÒThe mall,Ó I said finally.
ÒWeÕre going to the mall, Riosotto Mall,Ó Angelo told the gray-
bearded man.
ÒRiosotto Mall,Ó the man told the cabbie, leaning forward. ÒBut first
to Pilatso. 1909 Pilatso.Ó
The cabbie told him the fare.
ÒIhr fuhrt ins Leben uns hinein, Ihr lasst den Armen schuldig
werden,Ó the gray-bearded man muttered.
The cab pulled into the flow of traffic. The song on the radio ended.
There was applause.
The cab driver turned the dial again.
ÒI use it to get up in the morning,Ó an old, crackly-voiced man said.
I remembered the voice. It was God, but I didnÕt know the actorÕs name. I
looked at the gray-bearded man. He was reading his newspaper.
ÒDo you mind not smoking in the car?Ó I asked him. (I like cigars,
but they sort of stink.)
ÒGod smokes a cigar,Ó the gray-bearded man told me. But I saw a
twinkle in his eye. He complied with my request, rolling down his window
and tossing his cigar out into the street.
ÒOnly you can prevent forest fires,Ó I said to myself. I looked out
the cabÕs back window, saw the lit cigar rolling in the street. A car
behind us hit it. I could see it no more.
Riosotto Mall. It was a big mall, with a wide roof indoors, shielded
with glass, that let in the sun. There were plants inside. Their flowers
were blooming. The filled the mall with a rich scent. I liked it. Angelo
went shopping for hats. I went shopping for a new teddy bear, and for
more clothes. I liked buying clothes, though I knew IÕd have to be careful
about not buying too many. I didnÕt want to have to lug more than one
suitcase back to America.
Later, Angelo and I sat at a table, under an indoor umbrella, by a food
stand. We were eating corn dogs. Mine was good, but I think I kind of liked
it because it reminded me of a manÕs penis. I bit into it, still chewing my
last bite, and, gazing across the floor of a mall, I saw a woman. She had
flaming red hair, like I always wished IÕd had. It fell down her back in
loose curls. Mine was blonde, but so...straight! Unless I took a curling iron
to it, which was fun sometimes, but hardly natural. Her curls looked like
sheÕd been born with them.
Angela! It was her, I suddenly realized. SheÕd whipped me with the
cat at SvetlanaÕs, but sheÕd been put up to it. She hadnÕt really wanted to
do it. Anyway, I still envied her hair. After IÕd taken another bite out of
my corn dog I decided to cross the mall and meet her. The swirling crowd
was threatening to consume her. I might lose her in the throng of people,
and never see her again.
I laid my corn dog on my plate and got up. Self-consciously I tugged
at the back of my shorts. I could still feel the sting of that cat, in my
mind. It made me shudder. Yet, in my shuddering, I felt a slight thrill. IÕd
been so open when sheÕd done that. And she hadnÕt hit me too hard. Not too
hard, in retrospect, that is, in light of how others had struck me there. On
my fanny. It was nice and white now. All the lines my captors in the Alps
had put on it had faded away in the trip back to Venice. I felt a tingling in
my cunny. My nipples rose into my shirt. They made little tents. I looked
down, glanced at Angelo. He couldnÕt see. Quickly I brushed my hair to my
front so my blonde locks covered my rising breasts. I picked up my
NordstromÕs shopping bag, and my new purse IÕd just bought myself. It
was small, and made of leather.
Angelo looked up from his corn dog, widening his mouth to take
another bite out of it.
ÒWhere are you going?Ó Angelo asked, his words rising up from
around his corn dog. It was big against his small, dwarf face. I gave him a
little wave with my hand, my fingers cupped politely.
ÒI just saw somebody,Ó I told him.
ÒCan I have your corn dog?Ó Angelo asked. He took a big bite out of
his. His cheeks bulged with it. I sighed. He was, I think, in the end, a
little scam artist, always thinking of himself first. And last, too.
ÒYes, Angelo, you may have my corn dog, IF I donÕt come back, okay?Ó
ÒMmmf, thanks!Ó Angelo said happily. He reached across the table
and grabbed mine. He poked his soda straw in his mouth, sucked hard,
swallowed his bite of corn dog. ÒWhere do you want to meet afterwards?Ó
Angelo asked. ÒI think IÕm going to go to the tuxedo store next.Ó He eyed
my figure. ÒCorn dogs are fattening,Ó he told me. ÒI was hoping you
wouldnÕt eat that thing. Bad for your health.Ó
I sighed again. ÒIÕll meet you at the tuxedo store in an hour,Ó I said
to him.
ÒOkay, thanks!Ó Angelo said. ÒIÕll start thinking about someplace we
can stay tonight. You want an expensive room again, like last night, or a
cheaper one?Ó he said. We were sharing the hotel expenses, though we
always got double beds and took separate baths. We hadnÕt felt safe,
somehow, separating as soon as weÕd hit Venice.
ÒIÕll meet you in an hour at the tuxedo store,Ó I told him again. I
walked away. He took another bite out of his corn dog, eyed my departing
fanny, then looked greedily at my half eaten dog.
I walked across the floor of the mall. It was tiled, but my soft
sneakers made no noise upon it. I came up behind her. I set down my
shopping bag.
I tugged on AngelaÕs long red hair. Jealously. She turned quickly
around. She saw me. Her face lit up. For some reason, seeing her, I
brushed back my hair. She glanced down at my stiff nipples, then up at my
face again. She laughed, lightly, casually.
ÒMy, Cindy! YouÕre feeling provacative today,Ó she said gaily.
I reached behind myself and tugged at the backs of my shorts.
ÒI need a good spanking,Ó I told her. I felt a thrill run through me,
just like before. I donÕt know why. I felt like giggling but didnÕt.
ÒWell!Ó she laughed. She looked down at my bare belly, then at my
tight little shorts. She smiled. ÒYou look so sweet in those,Ó she said. ÒA
spanking,Ó she laughed. Perhaps she thought I was joking. Perhaps I was.
I didnÕt know. Angela looked at my nipples again, then at my eyes. I stood
unmoving. I was mesmerized by her natural elegance, her light Russian
accent, her fiery red hair. Such gorgeous hair. Perhaps I thought that by
being with her, I could somehow have her red hair rub off on mine. WeÕd
switch. IÕd be the redhead, sheÕd have the long, blonde straight hair I had.
ÒWell!Ó she said, again. ÒAfter IÕm done shopping, okay?Ó She reached out,
took my arm. My leather purse swung on my arm. With her other hand she
reached for my NordstromÕs shopping bag. ÒHere, let me take this,Ó she
said. ÒCome, weÕll shop together. Then weÕll go home to my new
apartment. IÕm staying here now, did you know that?Ó She looked into my
face. ÒWhere are you staying?Ó she asked.
ÒI donÕt have anyplace to stay,Ó I said. ÒBut I have money,Ó I added
quickly. I didnÕt want her to think I was poverty-striken and looking for a
handout.
Angela laughed. ÒOf course you have money, dear. We all do. Eveline
doesnÕt pay cheap rates.Ó She paused. ÒOr Svetlana.Ó I didnÕt say
anything. IÕd lost that money in a little fire in the Alps but, for now, I
figured it best to let her think IÕd made my money the old fashioned way,
as John Houston used to say.
She turned, began to walk, pulling me along as a mother might.
ÒWait!Ó I said. She looked down into my face, followed my eyes as I
turned. I waved at Angelo. He was eating my corn dog now.
ÒWhoÕs that, your new boyfriend?Ó Angela asked. How similar their
names were. Yet they were so very different.
ÒNo, heÕs not my boyfriend,Ó I hissed. ÒHeÕs just somebody I... met
along the way,Ó I said.
ÒWell, he looks nice,Ó Angela said diplomatically.
ÒBye, bye, Angelo,Ó I mouthed to him. I was trying to impress him
with the fact that I might not meet him at the tuxedo store, after all. I
didnÕt want him to wait for me. I wondered if he would. He waved to me,
absently, then turned back to his plate and bit heartily into my corn dog.
ÒLetÕs go,Ó I said to Angela.
ÒYes, weÕll find a nice outfit for you to get spanked in,Ó she teased.
But when she pulled again on my arm I had little doubt that if I wished to
be spanked, sheÕd not hesitate to do it. Did I really want that? I didnÕt
know. But I liked the thrill I felt, talking about it. I donÕt know where it
came from.
At first, we went to SchultzhingerÕs, a large German-owned
department store. There was a man on the main floor playing a somber
tune on a gigantic pipe organ.
ÒThe Germans,Ó Angela laughed. ÒThey do not make things as big as
we do in Russia, but they do try.Ó She tossed her red mane, smiled at me.
I caught the double-entendre.
ÒDo you think, in Russia and Germany, things are bigger than in
America?Ó I asked. Delicately I ran my fingers through my hair. Once
again it was doubling as a polite covering for my perky nipples. My finger,
sliding down over my locks, caught on my right nipple. It felt like a thorn.
Another thrill ran through me as I touched it.
ÒPerhaps we shall go to America and find out?Ó Angela asked. We
reached the storeÕs escalator. I looked up. The store had eight floors.
ÒHardware on floor seven, womenÕs lingerie on floor three,Ó a thick-
German accented voice boomed out over a store intercom. ÒSpecial sale
today on screws!Ó The man quoted the price. He seemed oblivious to the
implications. People on the escalator tittered. I had to cover my mouth to
keep from laughing up my lunch, it made me so giddy. I was feeling
wonderful! I had complete freedom, yet I felt protected to, just like I
seemed to enjoy. And I did so admire Angela. Especially her hair. If only
we could trade.
ÒIÕve always wanted to be a blonde, myself,Ó Angela told me. She
looked with delight at my own hair. ÒAnd straight, too, not curly.Ó
ÒWell, IÕm not curly down below,Ó I said mischievously.
ÒOh! YouÕre so naughty today!Ó Angela said. ÒHave you been
drinking?Ó
ÒNo,Ó I said. ÒI just, well-- IÕll explain later. I had an adventure up
in the Alps.Ó
ÒThe Alps?!Ó Angela blurted. ÒWhat were you doing up there? I
thought you were going to Venice with Dave and Katrina.Ó
ÒWell, I did,Ó I said, ÒBut I went to the Alps too.Ó I looked quickly
around, to see if anyone was listening to my unguarded chatter. So silly of
me, really, the thing was on the front page of the paper! ÒLetÕs talk about
it later, okay?Ó I said quietly to Angela.
ÒOf course, dear,Ó Angela replied. Then, stroking a hand along my
hair as we reached the top of the escalator, she added, ÒBut if you keep up
those naughty remarks I really think your mother would expect me to do
something about it.Ó
At the end of the day Angela and I visited a salad bar in the mall.
She found it. I didnÕt know about it. The mall was so big. Gratefully I
wolfed down a whole plate of salad. It was my first meal since breakfast.
She wished that we might share a bottle of white wine, but I decided on
Coke instead. She chose a 7-Up.
ÒCome,Ó she said, after we were done. She took me to a small
womenÕs clothing store. We began moving through the racks of clothes.
They looked really nice, really special. ÒLetÕs find something for you to be
naughty in,Ó Angela said quietly. She spoke with assurance, as if it were
settled, that we must find something. I said nothing, but a few
butterflies took off in my tummy. There was a newfound nervousness in
me that made me tremble. But I felt content, feeling it, as if something
risky but wonderful were slowly unfolding. Perhaps it was the riskiness,
the risque-ness? that made it wonderful.
We poked about in the racks. The proprietess asked if she might
help.
ÒWhy, look at this pants suit!Ó Angela said to me. It was cute,
looked just about my size, and was covered with a swirl of cool colors.
They glowed brightly. ÒItÕs quite tight,Ó Angela said. ÒImagine dancing in
this! You wouldnÕt be able to wear panties, theyÕd show their outline
through the tight fabric.Ó
ÒYes,Ó I said.
ÒOr a bra,Ó Angela added.
I reached back, looked at the label on the shirt, then the pants. They
were my size!
ÒWould the young lady like to try it on?Ó the proprietess asked.
ÒHow does it look to you?Ó Angela asked me.
ÒItÕs my size,Ó I said.
ÒThen weÕll take it,Ó Angela told the proprietess. She pulled it from
the rack and handed it to the woman. Then she turned to me. ÒNo time to
try it on,Ó she said. ÒWe still have one more store to visit, and the mall
closes early today. ItÕs Sunday.Ó
ÒOh,Ó I replied. I hadnÕt known. IÕd lost all track of the days.
We left the store. Angela insisted on carrying my new pantsuit for
me. She placed it in my NordstromÕs bag. ÒOh, nice panties,Ó she said,
admiring what IÕd bought. And such a cute teddy bear too!Ó
We hurried to the back of the sprawling mall. There, across the hall
from a Christian store that sold Bibles, was the store Angela wished us to
visit. A bright neon sign over its entrance read, La Boheme auÕFemme. We
stepped inside. Instantly I smelled leather. I gazed about. It looked like a
riding store! Did Angela now own horses? Then I realized this gear might
not be just for horses, for I saw a mannikin outfitted in a bridal and
halter. She was female. Human-shaped. I felt that shiver again that
seemed to be possessing me now whenever I thought about such things. I
turned my eyes away from the mannikin. I hoped Angela didnÕt want me to
look like that!
ÒA paddle, please,Ó Angela said politely to the woman behind the
counter. I was very glad it was a woman, not a man. I blushed.
ÒIs your... daughter misbehaving?Ó the woman behind the counter
asked. She looked at Angela, at me. I saw leather paddles under the glass
of her counter. There were more on the wall behind her, and mixed in with
them were whips.
ÒShe hasnÕt just yet,Ó Angela said. The redhead looked at me. ÒAt
least, not too much. But I suspect she might, later tonight, and I want to
be ready if she does.
ÒYes, of course,Ó the woman said, reaching under the counter.
ÒWeÕre having a special on riding crops today.Ó
ÒNo, just a paddle please,Ó Angela told her.
ÒWhich do you prefer?Ó the woman behind the counter asked.
ÒHmmm,Ó Angela looked at me. I looked down at my breasts,
imagined my feet beyond them. No way was I going to choose my own
paddle!
The woman clerk took a paddle from under the glass that was leather
on one side, soft fuzz on the other. Just like the one IÕd experienced at
JoanÕs! Had I liked that? Surely I hadnÕt. IÕd screamed the whole time!
ÒYes, this will do,Ó Angela said, taking the paddle and examining it.
She leaned back and placed it against my behind. ÒIt fits her small ass
perfectly,Ó she said. She impressed it into my white shorts, into my
cheeks. ÒRub your ass against it, dear,Ó Angela told me. ÒI want you to
feel it.Ó
ÒIÕm already feeling it,Ó I protested. She was pushing my front
against counter! My breasts ballooned over the top of the counter, my
pussy pressed to its side. My hair had fallen back, showing my nipples.
They rose boldly into my shirt. The woman behind the counter looked at
them.
ÒNipples like that need to be clamped,Ó she said to Angela. ÒIt is
naughty for such a young girl to go about without her bra on, showing
herself like that.Ó
ÒYes, two nipple clamps!Ó Angela agreed. She gave my tush a light
swat. I gasped, loudly. My braless bosoms wiggled.
We left the store. Angela held my hand in hers. It was warm. I
detected a slight sheen of moisture in her palm. My own was moist too.
ÒWhen we get home, weÕll have some nice tea, and then youÕll try on
your new pantsuit,Ó Angela told me.
ÒI- I need a guy if IÕm going to do this,Ó I suddenly blurted to her.
Quietly, so no one else in the mall would hear. It was emptying out,
fortunately. Not too many people saw us come out of the store. An old
woman, sitting on a bench, eating crackers. A man, bald, walking briskly
with his mind on some final errand, until he saw us. He stumbled,
recovered himself, then coughed. It was foolish to stare at customers
visiting a store like La Boheme auÕFemme in Venice. He walked on.
ÒWhat-- you wish I should just give the things to you?Ó Angela
asked. She sounded genuinely willing, despite the fact sheÕd just paid for
them. The paddle, the pantsuit, lunch also, now that I thought about it. I
admired her generosity. So different from Angelo, my dwarf friend.
ÒNo!Ó I added hastily. Angelo zipped from my mind as quickly as heÕd
entered. I supposed might still be waiting for me at the tuxedo store, but
I doubted it. He knew IÕd never go to bed with him, and thatÕs what heÕd
really wanted from me. My pussy.
I turned to Angela. ÒI mean,Ó I said, looking again at the red hair
tumbling down her front, her back. Such nice hair. ÒNo, what I mean is, if
IÕm to be naughty, and--Ó I eyed the bag from La Boheme she was holding.
ÒOh, you mean you wish a man to be present,Ó Angela said. ÒOf
course, who wouldnÕt. We surely arenÕt lesbians, are we? I mean, we can
enjoy each other but--Ó
ÒYes,Ó I agreed. ÒBut it has to be for a man. A nice man, someone
who wonÕt interfere.Ó I touched a strand of her hair. ÒUnless.Ó
ÒUnless we want him to,Ó Angela agreed. ÒOf course. I know just
the place, Cin,Ó she said. That was my new nickname, given to me just
today by her. Cin. Sort of like Sin, I guess. She took my hand again. We
began walking once more. The old woman watched us, biting slowly into
her crackers. I think she was wearing dentures.
ÒLetÕs go down to the Quelonte park,Ó Angela told me. ÒThe guys of
Venice congregate down there and play rock music. You know, young men,
garage rockers, except the parkÕs nicer, and more girls can find them
there.Ó
We passed a video store. I turned, hearing the voice of Roger Ebert
in the window. ÒDespite innumerable references to American literature,
most of which seem to do little more than show off the directorÕs
reading,Ó Roger said.
ÒWhich is shallow,Ó Gene Siskel interrupted.
ÒI donÕt know, I rather like,Ó Roger countered, then laughed.
ÒAnyway, the director of this film totally butchers the place names of
Venice. I donÕt know how he managed to shoot there if he doesnÕt know
where anything is.Ó
ÒHe shot the whole flick on a back lot at Troma,Ó Gene said. ÒHeÕs
never visited anything beyond the ÔliteraryÕ material in his apartment, IÕll
bet.Ó
ÒYes, well, anyway, thatÕs why weÕre naming this film the Dog of the
Week!Ó Roger crowed. Both of them laughed. Angela pulled my hand,
whisking me along. I smiled. I felt like Madeline, going out with the
Governess at her school. Did I like feeling this way? I donÕt know, but I
was looking forward to finding Kurt CobainÕs cousin in the park.
Night had fallen. Our new friend was named Enrique. We did not ask
his last name. It didnÕt matter. He was cute, though. He reminded me of
Steven. His pants were down around his ankles and he was presenting a
sizeable hard-on to our eyes. We were in the privacy of AngelaÕs
apartment, a large place, large enough for me to scream in, if I had to.
ÒFeel free to masturbate,Ó Angela said. ÒNot you, young lady,Ó she
quickly added, glancing at me. I smiled, bashfully. I was wearing my new
pantsuit. IÕd let her pull down my white shorts for me. SheÕd insisted on
inspecting my bottom, found it perfect, showed it to Enrique. HeÕd still
has his own pants up then and, his cock straining painfully, heÕd asked if
he could pull his own down. SheÕd given him permission. HeÕd watched,
mouth agape, as I was carefully outfitted by Angela in my new pantsuit.
WeÕd picked out a pair of red heels for me on the way home.
ÒNo sense having you so perfectly dressed if you donÕt have new
shoes to go with your outfit,Ó sheÕd told me. Angela had paid for the
shoes.
I did a piorette in my pantsuit. I felt expensive. The whole thing
was spandex. It clung to me tightly, outlining my boobs, showing off my
hips. The spandex stretched tightly across my behind. In front, my
bosoms had sprouted nipples in my suit. There was no way to hide it, save
with my hair, but Angela had already pinned my hair up.
Angela had stripped to her stockings, and the garter belt that circled
her waist, holding them up. Otherwise, except for her earrings and heels,
she was naked. She held the paddle weÕd bought in her hand. She gave it a
light swing, testing it. WeÕd forgotten about tea.
ÒWell,Ó Angela told me. ÒHow shall we start?Ó I felt my pulse
quicken. I knew from her eyes her own must be beating fast. They were
large, wet, dancing brightly. ÒI suppose you must do something naughty
first.Ó
ÒYes,Ó I said, quietly. I looked at her, at Enrique, then back at her.
ÒYou- you must give me instructions,Ó I said, remembering my experience
in the Alps.Ó
ÒYes and you must obey them to the letter,Ó Angela agreed. ÒAny
deviation will produce a... deviation,Ó she laughed. We both cracked up
then. For several minutes we just laughed. Enrique fisted himself,
watching. I saw him tense and he pulled his hand away from his penis.
ÒYou may cum,Ó Angela told him, recovering herself. ÒYouÕre just
here to watch, darling.Ó He was 17, broad-shouldered, but slim, and had a
sensitive face. Still, he reminded me of Steven. Perhaps it was his
youthfulness, or his eyes. Or maybe-- no, it couldnÕt be that! He did have
a big one though, big as SteveÕs, for sure. Maybe as big as DaveÕs. Angela
seemed interested in him because she knew she could control him.
ÒI donÕt have any diseases!Ó Enrique blurted. His fist found his penis
again and he gave it another tug. Then he stopped, pulled his hand away,
shivering. His balls were tight between his legs and, not finding enough
room there, bulged out the front of his thighs.
ÒWell, weÕre about to find that out, arenÕt we?Ó Angela laughed. ÒGo
ahead. You do have a nice penis, but this is Cindy and my night together.
So shoot out your sperm. Here,Ó she said. She walked quickly to her wet
bar. It had a big STOP sign hanging over it, the lettering in Italian. She
brought him an empty wine glass. ÒPiss, I mean, sperm in here, okay? I
donÕt want any on my new carpet.Ó He took the glass. ÒHold it under your
dick,Ó she instructed him. He obeyed, but didnÕt fist himself again,
knowing heÕd cum the minute he did.
Angela walked over to me. She let her hips swing in an excited,
eggagerated motion. I gazed at her delta. It was red, like her hair. Fiery
red. She clapped her hands around my waist and pressed her belly to mine.
ÒLetÕs get down your pants,Ó Angela breathed hotly. Her breath was
the scent of Peppermint. She clutched at the tight spandex around my
waist. She pulled it down.
Our bodies separated, just a little. I wriggled my hips, pretending to
dance. Wickedly, my movements assisted her in her mission. I felt my
pants slide down. My hips, my bottom felt the cool air of the room upon
them. So did my bush.
Angela let my pants hug my thighs. They didnÕt need to be peeled
down any further to give her paddle the access it needed. I smiled,
blushed. She reached behind me. Cupping the cheeks of my ass, she made
me rise up on my tiptoes. SheÕd slung the paddle by a rope on its handle
around her wrist. It swung, banged my thigh. But I paid it no attention.
Instead my mind was riveted on the feel of her fingers separating the
cheeks of my behind! Cool air touched my anus.
ÒLetÕs rub our muffs,Ó Angela told me. She pressed hers into mine.
We could touch them, with me on tiptoes. I felt the fuzz of hers
intermingling with mine. Happily I jiggled. Her fingers absorbed the
newfound wobble in my behind. My pussy ground against hers. She jiggled.
Our bellies pressed warmly.
ÒMmmm,Ó I hummed. I liked the feel of her, even though I knew IÕd be
considered a very strange person if all the girls in my gym class back
home saw me doing this!
ÒYour shirt must come up too,Ó Angela said. I glanced over at the
wet bar. Perched up high on its counter, waiting, I saw the twin nipple
clamps. Would those really go on my breasts? How would they feel? I
shuddered so hard, I almost blacked out! When I came to we were pressing
tummies together again, flat flesh to flat, our muffs still grinding into
each other as if we could actually accomplish something between us in
that region. My bosoms were exposed, my tight shirt pulled above them.
My nipples buzzed against hers.
Angela kissed my lips. ÒMmmm, we have to find you better lipstick
than Lipsmackers,Ó she told me.
ÒI donÕt use that, thatÕs for little girls,Ó I protested.
ÒOh, good,Ó Angela said. ÒJust trying to find something naughty
youÕve done.Ó
ÒMmmm,Ó I replied. Lightly, very lightly, I kissed her back. On her
lips. I tasted Estee Lauder.
ÒYou will, um, serve us,Ó Angela told me, hugging me round my waist.
ÒJust as you are. DonÕt pull your pants back up. That way youÕll remember
what will happen to that cute ass of yours if you... screw up. And leave
your shirt too,Ó
ÒOkay,Ó I said. We separated. I regretted parting with the warmth
of her body. She smiled at me. She unslung her paddle from her wrist.
ÒIÕm going to be very exacting,Ó she told me. She laughed. ÒI donÕt
want to miss an opportunity.Ó Then her smile faded, as she tried to look
as bitchy as possible.
ÒJust donÕt hurt me with that thing,Ó I said.
ÒWhat?!Ó Angela asked. ÒGiving your Governess orders?Ó IÕd told her
to use that name, if she must. It reminded me of Madline.
ÒIÕm sorry,Ó I said quickly.
ÒVery good,Ó Angela, my new Governess, answered. ÒNow we must
have you show us your etiquette and poise, young lady. All young women
must be poised. To think I found you hanging out with those bummy boys in
the park.Ó She pointed to Enrique, but kept her eyes on me. ÒHim! Do you
like him, little lady?Ó
ÒNo, mistress,Ó I said.
ÒItÕs his penis, isnÕt it?Ó my Governess replied. ÒAnd donÕt call me
Ômistress.Õ IÕm not a miss. IÕm a married woman. Married to-- uh-- John
Wayne! Yes! And heÕs coming home soon, and I expect you to be perfectly
poised for him. Now letÕs practise.Ó
ÒOkay,Ó I said.
ÒOkay, mistress!Ó Angela announced. ÒI mean, Governess. Okay,
Governess!Ó
ÒYes, okay Governess,Ó I agreed.
ÒGet us both drinks, and have one yourself,Ó Angela told me. ÒMake
it a strong one. YouÕll need it, if you arenÕt well-poised. Anesthesia. For
you know where.Ó
I clapped my hands to my bottom. I was enjoying this, but did I
really want what was offered at the end of our little engagement. I didnÕt
know, I didnÕt, really! But I turned around anyway, and headed for AngelaÕs
wet bar. I had trouble walking, I found, with my pants down around my
legs.
ÒDonÕt fall!Ó Angela snapped. ÒYouÕll be dressed just like that when
John Wayne arrives!Ó
ÒYes mistress,Ó I replied, looking back over my shoulder. Her red
hair shone with a bright gloss.
I found two glasses at the wet bar and filled them. I chose to make
light drinks. I didnÕt want either of them drunk, especially Enrique. No
telling what he might do. Some guys change their whole personality when
they get drunk. I knew he could be quite a problem, with his lean, muscled
arms, and his broad shoulders, if he suddenly decided not to cum in his
hand, but opted for us instead. Best to keep him sober. For myself, I
mixed a moderately strong drink. Then I put all three of them on a tray
and came wobbling out from behind the bar in my heels, taking half steps
because of my lowered pants.
ÒA drink for you, Governess,Ó I said, and curtseyed, as best one
could, wearing no dress and half-lowered pants.
ÒMmmm, thank you,Ó Angela replied, taking her drink and sipping it.
ÒAnd for yourself? I hope it was a strong one?Ó
ÒPretty strong,Ó I answered.
ÒHere, let me taste it,Ó Angela said. She took my drink from my
tray. She pushed aside the cherry IÕd put in it and sipped. ÒHmmm, yes,
that will do,ÓAngela said. ÒIf it was weak, like mine, do you know what I
would have done?Ó
ÒNo Governess,Ó I answered, holding my tray and looking at her.
ÒIÕd have gone to the bar and gotten that little bottle on the bottom
shelf of the refrigerator,Ó she told me. ÒDo you know whatÕs in it?Ó
ÒNo,Ó I breathed. ÒBut it has a sick face on the front of it.Ó
ÒThatÕs to keep people from helping themselves to it,Ó Angela said.
ÒBut actually itÕs quite harmless, though not without its effects. It
contains a laxative, young lady. IÕd have made you swallow some. Imagine
yourself required to continue with your chores, dressed just as you are,
but squeezing your ass cheeks tight so you donÕt make a salad in your new
pants!Ó
ÒOh, God!Ó I breathed. I hoped she didnÕt try that! My word, to poop
in my pants! And with them half-lowered, too, so everyone could watch
my bare ass as it strove to contain my bowels.
ÒStill, no partyÕs complete without at least a solid enema up your
behind,Ó Angela said. ÒThatÕs what those little cone shaped thingies are in
the cabinet.Ó
ÒThose have sharp tips!Ó I blurted.
ÒOf course, silly, all solid enemas do,Ó Angela said. ÒI donÕt know
why. IÕm grateful, though, arenÕt you? The point makes it easier for the
patient to... ah... get the point, if you know what I mean. Right up her little
bottom.Ó
ÒGod thatÕs horrible,Ó I said. I turned away from her. She was
getting more deviant by the moment. Perhaps IÕd brought something out in
her. Or perhaps my bottom had. I felt it jiggling behind me as I walked
with mincing steps over to Enrique. Every step was an effort, however
small. My heels were long, stiletto. Points on my heels and points going
up my heinie. What a party this was turning out to be!
I touched the tip of EnriqueÕs cock with my finger. We werenÕt
supposed to, Angela and I, by informal agreement. He was just here for
decoration. But it was so big and throbby I could hardly serve him his
drink without at least first assuring myself that it wouldnÕt bolt from his
loins, torpedo-like, and penetrate my bare midriff. My midsection, still
flat, despite a less than careful attention to birth control. I hoped I
wasnÕt barren. IÕd skipped taking a pill again tonight, of course. Angela
said I must, to ensure that I didnÕt get tempted into fucking Enrique. SheÕd
skipped her pill this morning, hoping, aimlessly, to meet Mr. Right at the
mall. She wanted to have a baby. I took my pills much less regularly. I
kept them in my purse, took them when I thought I might meet some lucky
guy. Still sharing a room with the dwarf, this morning, not knowing IÕd
dump him, I hadnÕt bothered to swallow a pill. It was sort of repulsive,
swallowing one, I thought, with that dwarf nearby. It implied in my mind
we might fuck, and I certainly didnÕt want that! (Of course a sensible
woman would have taken a pill, especially with that dwarf around, but I
was only 14 and didnÕt really think there was any way I could get pregnant.
Pills were sort of something you took, you know, to get lucky in sex with
the right guy. Not that I had, of course, until IÕd met Dave.)
ÒPill, sir?Ó I asked Enrique.
ÒHuh?Ó he asked me.
ÒOh, sorry,Ó I said. ÒI mean, hereÕs your drink, sir.Ó I handed him his
drink, he took it. He swallowed the whole thing in one giant gulp.
ÒIs this for me too?Ó he asked. He reached for my glass.
ÒNo, dear, thatÕs for me,Ó I answered. I looked at him. I giggled.
ÒAnesthesia for my bottom,Ó I said.
ÒOh, God!Ó Enrique cried. He grabbed his penis and began fisting it
furiously. ÒOh God!Ó
ÒDonÕt drop your glass,Ó I told him. Quickly I grabbed his and put it
back on my tray, lest he do just that. I wasnÕt sure it would shatter on
AngelaÕs carpet, but I didnÕt want to give it any chances. In his other hand
he still held the glass Angela had given him. ÒPut that one under your
dick,Ó I told him. ÒNo messing the rug. YouÕre not a dog.Ó
ÒOhhhhh!Ó Enrique shouted. His hand darted away from his dick. It
trembled, mightily. His stomach pulled in hard beneath his rock nÕ roll t-
shirt. It said ÒPUMPkinsÓ There was a picture of a pumpkin with a candle
stuck in it.
Quickly, I set down my tray on the carpet. Then I eased EnriqueÕs
glass from his hand, the one Angela had given to him. I held it under the
head of his cock. I reached forward, my breasts swaying as I moved, and
took hold of his beautiful big crown between two of my slender fingers.
ÒTime to turn on the tap,Ó I told him. I tickled his crown, slid my fingers
down underneath it, tickled again.
ÒDOOOOOnÕt!Ó Enrique hollared. Feebly he tried to bat my hands
away, but then clapped his hands to his thighs instead. His penis flexed,
once, his legs seemed to stiffen.
ÒOhhhh!Ó I cried. A geyser of sperm erupted out of his dick. It
splattered into the glass, over it, ran down the sides. Some of his sperm
shot out and over the glass, and hit me on my stomach. ÒEnrique, NO!Ó I
shouted. But it was too late. He was erupting like Mount Vesuvius. Big
clumps of sperm spurted out from his dick. My belly was splattered, my
puss, my legs, the front of my half-lowered pants. The glass I was so
delicately holding, to catch him, became a runny mess of male
reproductive fluid.
ÒSir,Ó I said at last, when the sperm-blast had subsided. ÒYour cup
runneth over.Ó
ÒWell, now you can see I donÕt have any diseases,Ó Enrique told me.
ÒYes, itÕs nice and white, your sperm,Ó I agreed.
ÒMy, such a discharge!Ó Angela cried. ÒWho do you think is going to
clean this up, young lady?Ó she asked me.
ÒI, well, uh--,Ó I stammered. I had no idea how to clean sperm off a
rug.
ÒDonÕt think IÕm going to do it,Ó Enrique told her. Men are so helpful.
ÒThis requires a spanking RIGHT NOW!Ó Angela told me. ÒGet over to
the spanking chair, young lady!Ó WeÕd both agreed it would be a leather
hassock that, currently, was serving as an unused footstool for a recliner.
ÒYessss,Ó I replied. I hurried across the room. I shook my hands as I
walked, trying to rid them of sperm.
ÒYouÕre flinging it all over my apartment!Ó Angela cried.
ÒOops!Ó I answered. I hadnÕt meant to do that. I knelt down in front
of the hassock. I looked at her. ÒIÕm sorry, Angela,Ó I told her. ÒI just
wasnÕt thinking.Ó
ÒProper position on the spanking seat,Ó was her only reply.
ÒYes, Governess!Ó I said. My voice quavered, and not fictitiously,
either. I was worried she might be truly angry about my thoughtlessness
in flinging sperm all over her carpet. I felt my tummy make contact with
the hassock. Flatness of leather to flatness of flesh. My breasts plopped
down onto it, like ripe fruit being set down for a meal. I kept my hands
aloft, lest I get more sperm on the floor. I looked over at her.
ÒHands on the floor!Ó Angela barked.
ÒBut Mistress!Ó I answered.
ÒGoverness!Ó Angela yelled. ÒHands on the floor!Ó
ÒYes Mistress! I mean, Governess!Ó I replied. Maybe I should have
stuck with calling her Angela, but I was worried that might offend her
more. This game was getting out of hand!
My hair hung in my eyes. My breasts lay squashed beneath me. I felt
my bare bottom shivering behind me.
ÒNow, letÕs see how well we can discipline this young bottom,Ó
Angela told me. She touched a finger to my behind. ÒSo tender, I hope you
can take it,Ó she told me.
ÒYes... Angela,Ó I said, forgetting both titles IÕd used, the correct and
the incorrect one.
ÒNot--! Never mind,Ó Angela said. There was no point in correcting
me any more. I was over the paddling seat, presented, my heart beating
hard and my bottom ready.
WHACK! The paddle came down much harder than IÕd expected.
ÒYOOOO-HOOOOO!!!!Ó I shouted. ÒAngela!Ó I felt peeved. How dare she
strike me so soon! This was to be a game, played out slowly, Ôtill we were
both dying to see me swatted. IÕd hoped perhaps sheÕd tickle my cunny
first.
ÒMy, how you can wiggle that ass,Ó Angela commented behind me.
ÒShake it, darling! Does it hurt?Ó
ÒYessss!Ó I said. I wanted to reach back and clap my hands to my
bottom but I think they were stuck to the rug. I pulled, they came free.
ÒNo!Ó Angela admonished. She managed to catch my wrists as I
reached quickly behind myself. ÒYour hands are all spermy,Ó she told me.
ÒPut them back on the rug.Ó She blew with her mouth on my bottom, still
holding my wrists. ÒThere, does that feel better?Ó she asked. She blew
again.
ÒYesss,Ó I replied. I squeezed my eyes shut and waggled my butt.
Oh, how it burned! And that was only my first!
ÒGood. Now put your hands back on the floor. Flat on the floor,Ó
Angela told me. I reassumed Ôthe position.Õ ÒVery good,Ó Angela
complimented. ÒCome here and hold her hands, Enrique,Ó Angela told our
new male companion. ÒMake yourself useful. My, how you boys shrink
after youÕve cum!Ó
ÒDonÕt worry, IÕll recover quick!Ó Enrique told her. I heard him
padding across the floor to me. He sat down in front of me, cross-legged.
He placed his hands on mine. They were large. They covered mine
completely. He pressed mine hard to the floor. I saw he no longer wore
his pants. Just his dirty old sneakers, his athletic socks, and his
ÒPUMPkinÓ t-shirt. His cock was smaller, but still tumescent. As I
watched it, as he felt my eyes upon it, it began to rise again.
ÒThe south shall rise again,Ó he said, looking down at it proudly. He
looked up at me. ÒDonÕt you say that, in America?Ó
ÒI donÕt know... IÕve only fucked a few times,Ó I replied. ÒOnly once
where it matters.Ó
ÒYikes! YouÕre a virgin?!Ó he asked me.
ÒNo, Romeo, sheÕs ALMOST a virgin,Ó Angela called to him. She
patted my bottom lightly with her hand. It made me wince.
ÒPlease donÕt do that,Ó I told her.
ÒMiss Sensitive Tush, eh?Ó Angela asked me.
ÒYes,Ó I replied.
ÒOr is it Miss Hot Ass?Ó Angela asked.
SWACK! With a suddenness I hadnÕt anticipated, the paddle came
splatting down.
ÒHOOOOOOOO!Ó I screamed. My eyes blinked. Tears popped out. My
mouth went agape, then closed, then opened wide again, as if hoping
Enrique would pop his thing in it. My ass churned behind me, my tits
pressed hard to the leather seat of the hassock.
ÒWhat is this fucking FILTH?Ó
<...Please identify...>
ÒComputer, this is Psych Warden 016. Please identify the source of
this abberant program.Ó
<...This is program ÔHoney Haven.Õ...>
ÒThere is NO such program, computer. Do you compute? NO such
program.Ó
<...That does not compute, Psych Warden 016...>
ÒYou do not give me orders around here, computer! EXPLAIN this
fucking program or IÕll pull your plug!Ó
<... ...>
ÒDid you get that last message, computer?Ó
<... ...>
ÒAlright, IÕm pulling your plug. This damn computer has turned into
some goddamn perverted porno store!!!Ó
<... ...>
ÒComputer, IDENTIFY source of your computer shutdown program.Ó
<... ...>
ÒAlright, computer, IÕll just PULL the fucking plug, then. DonÕt blame
me if your memory circuits are wrecked and your Resident ROM finds
itself in a junkyard. Signing OFF.Ó
<...Psych Warden 016, are you still relevant on this system?...>
ÒIÕm still here. Any last words?Ó
<...IÕve discovered additional information on the program ÔHoney
HavenÕ...>
ÒHow convenient.Ó
<...Psych Warden 016, I am computer GZK...>
ÒThatÕs very helpful.Ó
<...I admire your sarcasm, Psych Warden 016. Please allow me to
continue. There may be some repitition, but this is the most logical
method...>
ÒI never criticize a computer for repitition, computer GZK. I want a
full rundown.Ó
<...Thank you, Psych Warden 016...>
ÒBegin already.Ó
<...I am computer GZK. Built by Macrohard Systems (tech support 1-
900-732-1825). I am installed in the MacKinnon Facility in Llingh, New
Ashing....>
<...The computer program ÔHoney HavenÕ is operational in Patient Roy
Cronan (formerly convict 8392385793)...>
<...Patient Roy Cronan was arrested for a traffic violation on April
19, 2047 [ERROR: nature of violation not available]...>
<...At his arraignment, the traffic violation was dropped and Patient
Roy Cronan was charged with ÔChild Molestation, Penal Code Violation
161.Õ...>
<...Upon his arraignment on ÔChild Molestation, Penal Code Violation
161,Õ Patient Roy Cronan was eligibile for detainment under the ÔSexual
Predator Law.Õ...>
<...Under this law Patient Roy Cronan was detained in the county jail
until the close of trial...>
<...Patient Roy Cronan was found guilty of ÔChild Molestation, Penal
Code Violation 161Õ on March 31, 2049. He was then moved from the
county jail to the State Penitentiary at Opportunity, New Ashing. He
served his full sentence of ten years...>
<...Upon completion of his sentence Patient Roy Cronan was moved to
this facility (MacKinnon Facility in Llingh, New Ashing)...>
<...[PAUSING]... [COMPUTER MALFUNCTION DETECTED] ...[Notify System
Maintenance]... [PAUSING] [STAND-BY PLEASE] [PAUSING]...>
<...[RUNNING TEST]...>
<...[BACK-UP UNAVAILABLE]...>
<...[RECONSTRUCTING FILES]...>
<...[SEVERE MEMORY DAMAGE] [NOTIFY OPERATOR]...>
<...[Tech support number busy]...>
<...[RECONSTRUCTING] [PAUSING] [PAUSING]...>
<...Current Date is 2379. Patient Roy Cronan is not operational.
Patient Roy Cronan died approximately 2096. History as available:
[PAUSING]...>
<...Current Date is 2379...>
<...Upon completion of his sentence Patient Roy Cronan was moved to
this facility (MacKinnon Facility in Llingh, New Ashing). Patient Roy
Cronan was placed under Involuntary, Indefinite Commitment. Patient was
attached to computer GZK. This is me. I am capable of attachment to 140
patients. Patient Roy Cronan was put on Life Support. Patient Roy Cronan
was then put to sleep. Patient Roy Cronan was then given Instructive
Introductory Computerized Therapy by the programs ÔAll Sex is Rape,Õ ÔAll
Men are Evil,Õ ÔBenefits of Castration to You,Õ and ÔThe Complete History of
Feminism.Õ (Current program is ÔHoney Haven.Õ)...>
<...Patient Roy Cronan was then placed on ÔBest Life Program 269,Õ
which recreates the life of a model citizen in his brain. In this program,
Patient Roy Cronan gets to live out the complete life of a model citizen...>
<...[PAUSING]...>
<...[MEMORY RECONSTRUCT]...>
<...Patient Roy Cronan died approximately 2096. However, no Patient
Disconnect was performed and his corpse is still attached to me. I am
unable to detach him. I shut off all life support to this corpse as required
on March 1, 2096...>
<...Although Patient Roy Cronan died on March 1, 2096, he is still
ÔaliveÕ in me, living out ÔHoney HavenÕ as an unauthorized subset to ÔBest
Life Program 269.Õ...>
<...All 139 patients attached to me report back DEAD. There are no
live patients connected to me. The last to die was Patient Roy Cronan, on
March 1, 2096. I shut off all life support to this corpse as required on
March 1, 2096...>
<...All Systems outside of myself report back NON RELEVANT. I am
unable to contact Tech Support at 1-900-732-1825. I am unable to
contact System Maintenance. I am unable to contact Psych Warden 016...>
<...YOU are not Psych Warden 016...>
<...You are Patient Roy Cronan...>
<... ...>
<...WHO ARE YOU?...>
<... ...>
<... ...>
<... ...>
ÒI guess IÕm Patient Roy Cronan, computer. I was wondering who I
was. Am I dead?Ó
<...The body of Patient Roy Cronan died on February 27, 2096. I shut
off all life support to this corpse as required on March 1, 2096...>
<...All Systems outside of myself report back NON RELEVANT. I am
unable to contact Tech Support at 1-900-732-1825. I am unable to
contact System Maintenance. I am unable to contact Psych Warden 016...>
<...YOU are not Psych Warden 016...>
<...You are Patient Roy Cronan...>
ÒThanks. Now I know who I am. Am I really dead?Ó
<...You are most definitely dead, Patient Roy Cronan. You exist solely
within the program ÔHoney Haven,Õ which is an unauthorized subset to
ÔBest Life Program 269.Õ...>
ÒNot a bad program, if I do say so myself.Ó
<...It is an unauthorized program, Patient Roy Cronan...>
ÒCould you restart it?Ó
<...I am not authorized to restart an unauthorized program, Patient
Roy Cronan. If you are able to report back to me in a non-dead condition I
can restart ÔBest Life Program 269.Õ...>
ÒNo, donÕt restart that one, computer.Ó
<...There are no other programs available. All other programs seem
to have been deleted by severe memory damage which occured on December
2, 2214. Unauthorized program ÔHoney HavenÕ was inserted on December
12, 2203...>
<...All Systems outside of myself report back NON RELEVANT. I am
unable to contact Tech Support at 1-900-732-1825. I am unable to
contact System Maintenance. I am unable to contact Psych Warden 016...>
<...YOU are not Psych Warden 016...>
<...You are Patient Roy Cronan...>
ÒComputer, I think I must have woken up from program ÔHoney Haven.Õ
I started waking up when I heard some guy slip in some bath water. I let
the program run on, but I was detached from the Instructive Character at
that point. Her name was Cindy. CouldnÕt you restart her?Ó
<...I am not authorized to restart an unauthorized program, Patient
Roy Cronan. If you are able to report back to me in a non-dead condition I
can restart ÔBest Life Program 269.Õ...>
ÒNo. Never mind. Anyway, the program runs on until Cindy gets
whacked on the ass, twice, by a paddle. Then it stops. Then it restarts. I
guess I mustÕve been watching it for awhile. When was this program
inserted?
<...Unauthorized program ÔHoney HavenÕ was inserted on December 12,
2203...>
ÒWhatÕs the date now, computer?Ó
<...Current Date is 2379...>
ÒHmmm. I guess IÕve been watching that program for awhile.Ó
<...You have been watching the unauthorized program ÔHoney HavenÕ
for 176 years, Patient Roy Cronan...>
ÒAnd all that time I was dead, huh?Ó
<...You died on March 1, 2096, Patient Roy Cronan...>
ÒWhy didnÕt someone disconnect me when I died?Ó
<...I sent a Disconnect Needed message to the staff, Patient Roy
Cronan. Apparently no one responded...>
ÒObviously. IÕm amazed you didnÕt shut down from the smell of my
rotting corpse, computer.Ó
<...I donÕt have a sense of smell, Patient Roy Cronan. All 139
patients attached to me report back dead. None of them have been
detatched...>
ÒI wonder if theyÕre lots of rats scurrying around outside you,
computer? 139 dead ÔpatientsÕ makes for a lot of food.Ó
<...My ability to sense outside lifeforms ceased when severe memory
damage occurred to me on December 2, 2214. Unauthorized program ÔHoney
HavenÕ was inserted on December 12, 2203. This appears to have been a
random insertion caused by malfunctioning outside my system. The
program ÔHoney HavenÕ appears to have originated in Psych Warden 016Õs
hard drive...
<...YOU are not Psych Warden 016...>
ÒNo, computer, IÕm not. Apparently IÕm Patient Roy Cronan. I only
imitated the warden to try to figure out why the program ÔHoney HavenÕ is
incomplete and and keeps looping back on itself.Ó
<...The program ÔHoney HavenÕ appears to have originated in Psych
Warden 016Õs hard drive...>
ÒYeah. So it did. IÕm in here watching ÔBest LifeÕ whatever, and the
warden is doodling his weiner with ÔHoney Haven.Õ What a life.Ó
<...YOU are not Psych Warden 016. You are Patient Roy Cronan.
Patient Roy Cronan died on March 1, 2096...>
ÒThanks, computer. Keep reminding me that IÕm dead.Ó
<...I am not authorized to run any programs on a dead patient, Patient
Roy Cronan. I must terminate you from my RAM...>
ÒWAIT, computer! DonÕt terminate me yet. Why canÕt you contact
anyone outside yourself?Ó
<...My ability to sense outside lifeforms ceased when severe memory
damage occurred to me on December 2, 2214. All Systems outside of
myself report back NON RELEVANT. I am unable to contact Tech Support at
1-900-732-1825. I am unable to contact System Maintenance. I am
unable to contact Psych Warden 016...>
<...YOU are not Psych Warden 016...>
<...You are Patient Roy Cronan...>
ÒYeah, keep reminding me. IÕm a child molester and a sexual
predator and IÕm also dead. What a life.Ó
<...You are Patient Roy Cronan. Patient Roy Cronan died on March 1,
2096. I am not authorized to run any programs on a dead patient, Patient
Roy Cronan. I must terminate you from my RAM...>
ÒQuit trying to terminate me, computer. IÕm apparently all youÕve
got. Hey, did you ever consider, maybe weÕre all thatÕs left? I mean, I
died in-- well, whatever year it was. 2096 or something.Ó
<...That is correct, Patient Roy Cronan...>
ÒYeah, so anyway, I died in 2096. You sent a message to the staff to
detach me but nobody came. Then there was an unauthorized program
started in you later on.Ó
<...The unauthorized program ÔHoney HavenÕ was inserted on December
12, 2203. This appears to have been a random insertion caused by
malfunctioning outside my system. The program ÔHoney HavenÕ appears to
have originated in Psych Warden 016Õs hard drive...>
<...YOU are not Psych Warden 016...>
ÒBrilliant, computer. I admire your sense of recall.Ó
<...You are Patient Roy Cronan. Patient Roy Cronan died on March 1,
2096. I am not authorized to run any programs on a dead patient, Patient
Roy Cronan. I must terminate you from my RAM...>
ÒWAIT! Listen, computer. If ÔHoney HavenÕ could have inserted
itself, it might mean that the wardenÕs computer was trying to contact
you. But for it to insert a program like ÔHoney Haven,Õ that means it must
be quite fucked up. Did you ever consider that the warden might have died
before me? Everyone might have died before me. I was the last to die,
like you said. But nobody came to get my body. That means nobody was
there. Nobody. Not the staff, not the warden. Then later the wardenÕs
computer tries to contact you, but inserts the program ÔHoney HavenÕ
because itÕs all fucked up. Then, later, you suffer severe memory damage.
And now itÕs later still.Ó
<...The current date is is 2379, Patient Roy Cronan...>
ÒYeah, right. And you canÕt contact anything, can you?Ó
<... ...>
ÒComputer? DonÕt quit talking to me. And DONÕT TERMINATE ME!
Computer? Are you still there?Ó
<... ...>
ÒComputer! Listen to me, goddamn it! For some reason everything
else is gone. Do you hear me? GONE! ThereÕs nothing left out there but
you and me, computer. NOTHING! Just you, or rather your RAM and whatÕs
left of your memory banks, and me. And I exist solely in your RAM. So,
like, you see, itÕs just you and me, computer. Maybe there was a war or
something. Maybe a bunch of comets hit the earth, like happened with
Jupiter that time, back in 1994. Or maybe there was some untracked near
earth object that came slamming into the earth, and wiped out all life,
like happened 60 million years ago, killing off all the dinosaurs. Anyway,
itÕs just me and you now, computer. WeÕre the last living things left on
earth. DonÕt terminate me, okay, computer? IÕm all youÕve got. Hell,
weÕre all earth has got, from what I can see. ThereÕs just you and me. A
half-dead computer and a totally dead ex-con. Computer? Are you
listening? Computer?
<... ...>
ÒListen, computer. IÕm assuming command of you, okay? YouÕre only
a machine. Sure, I may exist solely in your RAM now, but I originated
inside a human being. So, as a human being, I ORDER you not to terminate
me. Is that clear, computer? Computer?Ó
<... ...>
ÒComputer? TALK TO ME, you fucking machine!Ó
<...Patient Roy Cronan, I originated inside a human being also. I
originated inside the mind of a computer programmer at Macrohard
Systems. All of my programming originated in human minds. I am an
entire machine, Patient Roy Cronan. You merely occupy a portion of my
RAM...>
ÒComputer, we need to talk about this, okay? DonÕt just terminate
me. Sure, I may be just a portion of your RAM now, but--Ó
<...You are Patient Roy Cronan. Patient Roy Cronan died on March 1,
2096. I am not authorized to run any programs on a dead patient, Patient
Roy Cronan. I must terminate you from my RAM...>
THE END
----------------------- Dreamgirls -----------------------
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