Story: The Experiment

The research team headed by Dr. Andrea Miller was the most respected and most well funded at Northridge Tech. Between her clever assistant Brandy Myers, sexy computer expert Sandra Peters; and college intern Wendy Lewis they shared a 9500 square foot laboratory, had access to the most advanced scientific equipment available anywhere, and even had their own security guard, the ever present Melanie Lopez.

For the last five years these scientists had been working on developing a brand new compound. Naturally after spending such a long period of time working on it they were anxious to see some results. Then one day, Andrea, the head of the project, promised them all that the long wait was nearly over. She had looked over everything carefully, double and triple checking that everything was correct, and was now as certain as was humanly possible that they could fire up the high tech processor they had created and finally synthesize the compound.

Thrilled the team took their places and prepared themselves to be famous. Having no real part to play in the experiment Melanie stood by the single entrance to the lab and made sure no one disturbed them during this critical phase. The rest of them stood near the processor eager to see if their hard work bore fruit. Then when everyone and everything was in place Andrea gave the signal and Sandra initiated the processing sequence from her terminal.

At first everything seemed to be going smoothly. The processor started up and all the readings they were getting from it seemed to be well within the parameters they expected. Then the lights began to flash and the processor went haywire and exploded. The laboratory was bathed in a super bright green light and for a moment they all thought they were dead. Then the light faded away and they discovered that they were seemingly unharmed.

The lab was a mess though. There were broken bits of the processor all over the place and all the computers were fried. Despite a few bruises and some minor cuts from flying glass, which Melanie applied first aid for; the team however was remarkably unhurt. They counted themselves very lucky. Things could have been a whole lot worse. As it was they failed to synthesize the compound, but that was okay, they could build another processor and try again. With the data they collect during the experiment, which was safely stored outside the lab, they could make an even better processor.

Andrea decided to give the team the rest of the day off. They could start rebuilding everything tomorrow. She then wrote a detailed report about what had happened for her boss there at Northridge Tech and then left work herself.

Story: A Bad Morning

Eric thought little of it when the woman pushed past him on the subway in her hurry to exit the train. She was after all just a big titted, peroxide blonde, tramp-stamped redneck. She had probably never heard of a little thing called common courtesy. And from the look of her cleavage baring once white tank top, cheap faux fur jacket, ultra short daisy dukes, garish fake nails and bright red heels, she had clearly never heard of good taste either.

Eric never intended to give the incident another thought, but then as the train pulled away from the station he saw the woman again as she stood there on the platform smoking a menthol. She looked back at him and then smiled and shrugged apologetically. “Sorry” she seemed to say.

Assuming she was trying to make amends for bumping into him Eric smiled back and waved it off. “It was nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He mouthed. Maybe she had more class than he had given her credit for he began to think.

Then the woman reached into her purse and pulled out a wallet. A brown leather wallet that looked oddly familiar… It was his wallet! That bitch had stolen his wallet! Unfortunately by the time Eric realized that she had his wallet the train was well and truly moving and there was no way for him to get off and get it back. He watched the trailer trash bitch until the train entered the tunnel and then she was gone.

Story: The Bittys

Lara was uniformly despised by all the women at Lehman’s real estate. They believed she was a flirt and a tease and was setting a bad example. They believed all she did all day was strut about the office tossing her long dark luxurious hair at any man that came through the door. No decent 21st century woman should flaunt themselves before a man and adore his attentions as she did! No woman particularly Lara should receive so much attention either they figured. Not more then they received certainly. Not when she went around shamelessly displaying her body in her tight designer outfits and sky high heels. Had she no decency! None of them ever displayed themselves in such a way. They dressed with modesty and decorum.

Worse still her seductive and charming ways entranced their clients more then they cared to admit and they had all lost clients to her. None of them wished to admit that they could have been nicer to their male clientele, but that was the kind of nasty old bittys they were. 

Then the quarterly figures came out and Lara was at the top for the third quarter in a row. Only during her first quarter had she had lower figures than anyone else. It was clear she was hurting them. Something had to be done.

So they decided to do something about it.

Story: Ingredients For The Perfect Spanking

INGREDIENTS FOR THE PERFECT SPANKING

By Tcheser

Polly looked over everything one final time. It all had to be perfect. It all had to be right. Her husband Ben would be home soon and if anything was out of place it would simply ruin what she had planned. As if checking off items on a shopping list she walked through the house the two of them shared and made certain each element was just the way she wanted it and that it was in it's particular place.

There was the dent in the fender of Ben's classic Porsche roadster which she had purposely left out in the driveway rather than in the garage where he usually kept it. It was neither too big nor too small. Not the kind one gets when one is in a serious accident. Not the kind to raise real concern. Just large enough to be readily noticeable and of the sort that one gets when one is careless parking a car.

Then there was the putter she carelessly dropped in the middle of the foyer. Not putting it back in her husband's golf bag was a nice touch she thought, but it could be improved on though she decided, and after a moment's consideration she picked up the club and broke it over her knee before returning the pieces back to where they were on the carpet. Now it would seem that whoever had used it not only didn't put it back but had also apparently broken it.

The cool draft coming from the artfully shattered upstairs window would catch someone's attention even if they missed the glass beneath their feet somehow. She was quite proud of the shot she had made to make this happen and doubted she could do it again if she tried. It was also a mess that someone should have really cleaned up, it was careless not to, but more importantly it was dangerous.