0 comments/ 45094 views/ 15 favorites A Dose of His Own Medicine By: fmcchris (Author's Note: A wonderful fan and friend provided me with the inspiration for the following story. Thank you for the idea, Allan! Your imagination is almost as wild and crazy as mine!) Jim Wilson didn't know it, but he was being condemned. Even as he made his way into his office his fate was being decided by his company's mostly female staff—thirty-seven women who made up the bulk of Wilson Labs, one of the most distinguished pharmaceutical companies in London. There were a few men in the company—his father, the President and CEO, a couple of outside sales reps, a few freelance copyeditors and proofreaders and himself, the CFO. The work for the reps and editors was all outsourced, so the few men that there were mostly worked from home or in the field. His father only made it into the office a few days a week, preferring to work from his spacious and luxurious home office. Although Jim had great latitude in company decision-making, he was still answerable to his father, and this irked him. It irked him so much that he often took out his frustrations on his unsuspecting female employees. But now, after three years of suffering under his tyrannical rule, these bold women were about to turn the tables on him. Jim Wilson was the only son of Edward and Sally Wilson. He was a very handsome and elegant man of thirty-one. Some would say that he was fastidious about his appearance to the point of vanity, and they would be correct in that estimation. Physically, he was intimidating at 6' 4" tall, with broad shoulders and fierce, penetrating blue eyes that often flared when angry. His hair was jet black and never seemed to grow any longer than what was considered fashionable for a man so blessed with the features of an Olympian god. Being an only child, he had been pampered and given everything that money could buy. This was not to say that in being so spoiled he was indigent. He wasn't. If anything he had a restless and penetrating intellect, which drove him to question everything. But only toward those things that he felt could be of use to him did he expend his vast energies—he was opportunism personified. Jim received his MBA from Oxford University Business School, graduating summa cum laude with a perfect 4.0 grade average. Upon leaving school he went directly to work for his father's company as one amongst a bevy of accountants. His father was a disciplined man who believed that his son should know everything about the company, and this meant starting at the bottom rung. Jim resented this at first, but he knew that if he was patient, his father would promote him in due time. And so he waited. In less than two years he had been promoted up the ranks until he had become the chief financial officer of the company, second only in power to his father. Now, in his seventh year of employment at the Lab, Jim was feeling on top of his game. He was rich, powerful, and in total control. In the beginning years of his employment with the company, Jim was more or less deferential in his treatment of his fellow employees. After all, he was one of them, with little power to control anything more than his own destiny. However, as time went on and his range of powers increased, he became more demanding of his employees, especially the women. He would often make snide remarks to those he felt were not doing their jobs to his satisfaction. Or he would condescend to the older women who had worked at the company for years very happily under the direction of his father, but whom he now felt were getting too old to keep on the payroll. Worst of all was his propensity for sexually harassing the younger and more attractive women. He was not blatantly obvious about it, but he would push the envelope by making lewd comments couched in double entendres or would sometimes touch an employee on her arm or let his hand doodle too long at the base of her spine. Once he even cornered his own secretary in the kitchen, forcing her under the mistletoe so that he could get her to kiss him. The women tried to overlook his faux pas either by ignoring him or letting him off with a gentle warning, but nothing worked. He continued to harass them day in and day out, year after year. The problem for the women was that his errant attentions, as annoying and discriminatory as they were, did not warrant enough concern for them to lose their jobs, especially since the job market was dismally jeopardized by a weak economy. As a result, they endured his tasteless jibes, innuendos, and infrequent physical contact as preferable to being unemployed. Being a bachelor, Jim had a vibrant social life. He loved to wine and dine rich and beautiful women, and often brought his dates into the office where he would exhibit them as if they were some rare breeds of exotic show animal to display in front of his staff. He spared no expense in making his employees feel less than adequate, either by flaunting his rich debutantes in front of them or by deriding their best efforts at work. As such, he soon grew to be hated by the entire female staff. It's not that Jim was cruel or got any enjoyment from bringing his charges to heel—he didn't. He was just drunk with power and simply and truly believed that he was superior to everyone else—especially the women. The fact that he was still subservient to his father irritated him most of all, and for this the women paid dearly. It was on a cool, crisp October afternoon that the first stage of Jim's condemnation was being prepared. Mary Douglas, a tall, slender, red-haired, fiery-eyed beauty of twenty-two, and Jim's secretary for the past year, had called for a meeting in the company conference room with all thirty-seven of the company's female employees. Jim had just left the office for lunch after having performed some rude gesture while in her presence, and she was pissed. She did not reveal her displeasure to her boss however, but chose to keep her feelings bottled inside her until, like the proverbial pressure cooker, she was ready to explode. It was now 1:15 p.m. and the conference room was full of agitated women when Mary burst through the doors like a hurricane. "That fucking son of a bitch!" she screamed once the doors had closed behind her. "Do you know what he just did?" The bewildered group suddenly fell silent, all eyes pointing in the furious woman's direction. Without waiting for an answer, she resumed. "He took out his god-damned willy! His willy! Right in front of me!" A chorus of shocked moans rose from the group as she took her seat next to a tall, attractive blonde. "I don't believe it!" the blonde said. "He would never..." "Don't say 'never,' Margaret!" Mary retorted, her eyes narrowing. "I told you he did. Oh, it was only for a second or two but he whipped it out right there in his office. Can you imagine how insulted I felt?" "That's simply disgraceful!" one of the older women replied. "We can't let this go. Not this time!" "Forget about all that!" a plump motherly type exclaimed. "Did you record it?" Mary smiled. "Indeed I did, Jenny! I got it all on my little digital recorder. Every obscene word he spoke to me, that foul-mouthed beast!" "And the video?" "Caught it all on my mini-cam!" Mary fingered a little button-type device on her collar that looked like a miniature brooch. "Caught him fondling his bits too! We have the bastard now girls!" "By the balls, I daresay!" Margaret exclaimed, hitting her fist on the desk for emphasis. Suddenly, Mary was not looking at her excited colleagues but instead focused her eyes on the empty table in front of her. "Where are all the lab reports? He knows I'm calling this conference to go over these reports with you. If he should come back before we're done..." "Here they are, Mary!" an eighteen-year-old intern shouted from the back of the room. "Well, put them on the table for heaven's sake would you please, Angie? We need to cover our arses." "We should have held the meeting somewhere else, Mary," a woman named Barbara said. "Not under his very nose for Christ's sake!" "No," Mary replied with some vexation. "This is the perfect cover. He thinks we're having a conference about these stupid reports. Let him think that. Better that than trying to evade his spies all over town. We'd be too obvious." A pretty brunette girl sitting across from Mary began handing out the reports as they were passed to her from Angie. She nodded her head in agreement. "You're right, Mary. Mr. Wilson is too smart. We have to be careful." "All I want to know is," said Angie, "did the blighter have one on?" "Have what on?" Mary inquired. "Did he have a woody?" Mary rolled her eyes. "No, Angie. It was as flaccid as a spent Trojan." The entire group erupted into laughter, but Angie looked disappointed. "Oh come on, Angie!" Mary scoffed. "You really didn't expect him to be waving his pole around at full mast!" "Well," the girl replied, "a lot of us were curious about his size. There has been a rumor around here for years that he's hung like a horse." Angie said this with perfect composure even though many of the women were still giggling. "Just pass out the rest of those damn reports and sit down. We have a lot to discuss." It took a short while for Mary to collect herself, still reeling from the psychological blow of Jim Wilson's outrageous behavior. There was no doubt now that something had to be done. After a full year of putting up with her boss's crude insinuations and otherwise rude treatment of her, culminating with this latest vulgar and untoward act, retribution was called for. And she was the perfect instrument by which to initiate revenge. Unbeknownst to Jim, Mary was his intellectual equal. She too had graduated from Oxford with an MBA and had a very impressive grade point average. She could not, however, find employment suitable to her training, and therefore had to accept a lower position within the company. But she was young and, like Jim, patient. She could afford to bide her time until a better opportunity arose. Edward Wilson thought highly of her and had told her so on many occasions. He made it clear that as soon as something better came along, she would be the first to know. And she had no reason to doubt him. Unlike his son, he was honest and forthright. Many times she had wanted to voice her displeasure about his son to him, but knew that if she expected to rise among the ranks, she would have to keep her mouth shut. It troubled her terribly to do so, but she saw no other way. "Okay," Mary said, after quickly reviewing the small bundle of papers in front of her. "This is the deal. We can no longer put up with Jim Wilson's bullshit and we can't complain to the boss—his father—for fear of losing our jobs, which none of us can afford to do. But, we now have evidence to blackmail him with. As such, we can go ahead with our plans." "I think we should castrate the fucker!" someone yelled from the back of the room. "No, Paula," Mary said, recognizing the voice. "I have a much better idea." Mary then turned to a woman seated at the opposite end of the table from her. This woman was impeccably dressed in a smart gray business suit and black high heels. Her sandy brown hair was pushed back into a bow, giving her a strict appearance despite the fact that she was quite lovely. In front of her lay a small black valise, which was stuffed with papers. With a nod from Mary, the woman stood up before her expectant audience. "Most of you here know who I am," she began. "For those who don't, I am Dr. Bethany Devlin, chief project Director of the Wilson biogenetic research department. For the past several years my team and I have been developing a new drug called Infiritol, which is a fertility drug for men. It has been used to great effect since moving out of the beta testing phase last summer. Men whose sperm count would have precluded them from impregnating a woman before taking the drug, are now able to produce sperm at an astonishing rate. The sperm are healthy, robust and quite voluminous." "Congratulations, doctor," Margaret said, obviously not very impressed with her revelation. "It's been done already." "What are you talking about?" Bethany replied. "Did you ever hear of 'EJAX-472'?" "Of course. Who hasn't?" "Well, my point is...why reinvent the wheel?" The doctor shook her head in dismay. "No, you don't understand. Infiritol, unlike EJAX-472, does not take weeks to build up a concentration in the bloodstream. It is administered via injection directly into the scrotum. Its effects are immediate and quite incredible. Ask Mary. She's seen how it works." "I have," Mary admitted. "Even a tiny dose goes a long, long way." "What do you mean?" Angie asked. "What does it do?" "It acts as a precursor to semen," Bethany answered. "It forces sperm to replicate at up to ten times the normal rate." Most of the women remained quiet and attentive, but there were a few who found this news amusing. "I'm not kidding," Bethany stated firmly. "Do you know what the result of such an increase in the sperm rate can do to a man?" "I'd say the poor bloke is going to have one very tired hand!" retorted the plump, motherly type amidst a chorus of laughter. "Or he's going to be fuckin' every damn trollop down in the south-east district of New Cross!" Margaret squealed, exciting the group even more. Mary had to laugh despite herself. "Okay, okay, you lunatics! We're moving away from the purpose of this whole thing. Now Bethany, please continue and get to the point. We don't have much time." As the crowd's enthusiasm began to quell, the doctor resumed. "Like many of you, Jim Wilson has sexually harassed me. And more than once." "What did he do to you?" Angie asked. "Never mind about that. Let's just say it was overt and very unwelcome. Until now, we had to endure his blatant attempts to harass us, but now with the information Mary has acquired, we can nail this bastard to the wall and give him a taste of his own medicine." Upon hearing this news the women suddenly grew restive, desirous to know more of the doctor's plans for their contemptible employer. "So, tell us, doctor," an elfin-looking girl said from the corner of the room. "How do you intend to give 'em what for?" Bethany grinned and removed a tiny vial of black liquid from her valise. "Mary and I have a plan. And we're going to accomplish it with this!" she said proudly, as she held it up for inspection. "Meet the greatest sperm producer known to man! Infiritol!" She held the bottle up high above her head as if she were waving a trophy. "Payback is a bitch ladies, and Jim Wilson is going to pay, big time!" The complete plans regarding Jim Wilson's fate were laid out for all his employees to savor. Under the pretence of studying the lab reports, each woman was clandestinely initiated into the elaborate scheme that was to absorb their every waking moment for the next three days, at the culmination of which their collective animosity would be unleashed upon their unwitting victim. It was universally agreed that the apprehension of their employer should take place after work on a Friday evening, the time most likely when he would be working after hours. The abduction would be prefaced by a cup of coffee laced with a mild sedative, giving the women enough time to wheel him down to the underground research labs where they would then tie him down onto a medical table for his introduction to Dr. Devlin's wonder drug. The entire procedure would be recorded using digital cameras. Multiple copies of the data, in addition to the doctor's master copy, would be placed in both Mary and Margaret's possession for safekeeping. On the day before his initiation, Jim seemed particularly out of sorts. He was far more annoying and rude than usual, and all because, it was found, the girl he had picked up the night before at a local bar had refused to have sex with him. As a result, he was in a rotten mood. "Take this fucking thing away!" he screamed at Mary as she cleaned up his second coffee spill of the day. "I don't want to look at it now!" The top of the ancient mahogany desk, once the pride and joy of his father, had become a motley tapestry of coffee stains, butter stains, gravy stains—almost every kind of stain imaginable—under his possession. A bevy of secretaries, whose long list of names now lay forgotten in the mist of Wilson's company annals, had struggled in vain to keep their tyrannical employer's desk clean and tidy. It was a futile effort. Jim's slovenliness seemed incompatible with his own assiduous attention to personal hygiene, but the truth was, he had little regard for anyone or anything other than himself. Because the desk was an heirloom, Mary dare not try to use any especially harsh solvent to clean it, which might have removed the stains at the expense of the finish. So, she did the next best thing: she ordered a glass top. But while the glass top may have protected the finish, it nevertheless continued to accumulate stains. And the last of the coffee to find its way onto Jim's desk had landed directly on his copy of the most recent lab reports of which Mary and her accomplices had recently utilized as their decoy. "I can get you another copy," Mary said to her boss as she wiped up the last of the coffee from his desk. "No," he replied hastily. "Get the project team in here in about a half hour and you can walk me through it." "Yes, sir." As Mary turned to go, Jim took out a nail file from the top drawer of his desk and began to file his nails. "Oh, Mary," he said, secretly admiring the picture of her lovely derriere. "Before you do that, let's have a chat." Mary halted in her tracks, her back towards him. "If it's about what happened this morning..." "No, no, it's not that," he said, quickly trying to downplay any hint of resuming his prior indiscretion. "Sit down, please." Reluctantly, Mary sat down opposite him. He continued to file his nails without looking at her. "There is a problem," he began. "And it concerns two of your friends in the legal department—two paralegals, Angie Robinson and Margaret Wainwright. One of them has to go." "I don't understand." "Of course you do," Jim said in a presumptuous tone. "Ms. Robinson has been consistently late reporting for work. You are aware of that?" "Yes, I am. But she explained her situation to your father and he kindly gave her some latitude in that respect. Are you aware of that?" "I am. But my father has wisely left the matter in my hands. Ms. Robinson has been warned twice before but she continues to be tardy." "Her mother is very ill and she depends on Angie to care for her. What can she do?" "I don't know," he replied, reaching for a cuticle scissor. "And I don't care. Now, as regards Ms. Wainwright...well, her work as of late has been less than stellar." Mary watched him as he slowly, methodically, removed a hangnail and returned the scissor to his drawer. So far he had not bothered to look at her. "She's going through a divorce." Jim sneered. "So! Once again, personal issues form the common ground for their rationale! Ridiculous!" At that point Mary wanted nothing more than to slap his arrogant face. However, she allowed her distaste for the unfeeling cretin to ebb, realizing that anger might compel her to say something that would jeopardize her own position. "It has affected her work, I admit that. But she's been a diligent and devoted employee for many years. It's just that..." "It's just that her personal situation has deteriorated to the point that it is affecting her job. Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not responsible for her problems. I am only concerned when her problems begin to compromise her work. And when that happens, it becomes my problem." A Dose of His Own Medicine "But given her circumstances surely you could reconsider? Both Margaret and Angie are valuable employees, Mr. Wilson. Very valuable indeed." "I don't share your opinion, Mary. And I have already discussed this matter with my father and he has given me his approval to proceed with the firing of one of these two women." Something told her that whatever information he had imparted to his father about the need to dispose of one of her friends had to have been a lie. She wanted to tell him off, but held her tongue. "I understand, sir," she replied, looking beyond him to focus on the bleak cityscape outside his window. She was barely able to utter the word 'sir,' the word catching in her throat and serving as a painful reminder of just how much she despised this man. "Good. I'm glad you do," he said, at last deigning to bestow her with a sinister glance. "I'll leave it to you to decide which of them is to be sacked. Whomever you choose, she is to be notified of her termination on Monday morning." He said this in such a coldhearted way that Mary might have received her instructions from an automaton for all the warmth he exuded. "It's not my place to terminate anyone," she said. "I'm only your secretary. You're their boss." For a moment Jim remained silent, thoughtfully studying her expression more than her words. "You are my secretary and you are also the office manager. Therefore you are quite qualified to handle this situation. If you have a problem with it..." "No, no, I don't," she said quickly. "It's just that they are both my friends. How can I choose one over the other?" "Immaterial. Simply choose one and be done with it. I don't care to know the particulars. That is all." Mary stood up and turned to go, but just as she was about to walk out the door, he called her back. "What is it, sir?" she said, turning slowly to face him. He could sense that there was agitation in her voice. "This bothers you, doesn't it? Having to terminate one of your friends." He said this in such an unsympathetic and offhand way that it chilled Mary's heart to hear it. "Of course it does. Anybody with a heart would understand." "And you don't think I have one, do you?" "I think you have one, sir. You just never learned how to use it." Jim contemplated what she said for a few moments and then laughed. "So, I'm a heartless demagogue, am I? The cruel taskmaster who cares nothing for his employees, only himself. Is that right, Mary?" "Why do you ask me when you already know the answer?" "Really?" he replied with a measure of sarcasm. He purposely rose from his seat and walked toward her, stopping only when he was a few feet from her irresolute form. "And I take it that you wish that I were out of the way, do you?" "I didn't say that." "Oh, come now! Of course you do! I'm not blind you know. I know that you hate me. Most everyone in this company does. And do you know why? Because I'm more competent than anyone else! I get the job done. And not only do I get it done, I get it done in such a way that people can't help but marvel at my ingenuity, my brilliance, my entrepreneurial skill! The consummate businessman. That's who I am. And do I allow my personal issues to impact upon my job? Of course not! How could I? Wilson Laboratories is where it is today because of my total devotion to making this company great." If Mary had wanted to slap his face earlier, she wanted to punch it now. "Your father was responsible for the success of Wilson Labs...sir," adding the last word in a contemptuous tone for effect. "You inherited a company that was already on the Fortune 500 list." "Yes, that's true. But due to my hard work I have made this company even greater than what my own father envisioned. Dedication, Mary. Selfless dedication." He turned his body sideways to look out the window. "Do you see that? All those buildings belong to us. We practically own this entire neighborhood. I did all that. That's my legacy. So when I see lesser people falling by the wayside I can't feel sympathy for them. I can only feel repugnance. I can only feel that they were weak enough to allow their personal circumstances to interfere with the greatness that is Wilson. And that's why such people must go. Do you understand?" Mary shook her head numbly but said nothing. She had finally managed to conjure up an honest, but nevertheless frightful, dose of his egocentricity, and it made her shiver. But deep inside her was stirring the spirit of revenge—revenge for all the sleights, harassments, crudeness and arrogance that she had endured for an entire year at the hands of this miscreant. Tomorrow. Tomorrow! And the terrible retribution would begin! "Bring me another cup of coffee, would you?" he told her as he walked back to his desk seemingly unperturbed. "Yes, sir," she replied, imagining him chained to a medical table surrounded by the non-entities whom he disparaged, his testicles full of the fertility drug that would humble him, disgrace him, humiliate him before the very women he despised. ************ Mary had a fitful night's sleep. In her dream she imagined that she was Jacob Marley come to visit his erstwhile partner, Ebenezer Scrooge. But in this scenario, Scrooge was already beyond redemption, and Marley had come to take him away posthaste to his ultimate demise. But it wasn't the fiery realm of Hell itself that beckoned the intransigent and greedy man of business; it was the inside of a vast medical lab whose dimensions extended for miles around in each direction into infinity. And within that unlimited expanse an enormous crowd of eager and demanding women—nurses, secretaries, doctors, accountants, and even the lowly office grunts—found common cause in the long-awaited destruction of the detestable villain. Oh! What terrors awaited that poor, unfortunate creature! "The drug! The drug!" the women cried. "Give him the drug!" When their incessant shouts grew too loud to bear, she woke up; she had slept through her alarm. After she had showered and had breakfast, she called Bethany to make certain that everything was in order. The friendly doctor assured her that it was. Mary heaved a sigh of relief. The digital recording she had made three days before was safely ensconced in her bank's safe deposit box. The other two backup copies remained in her friend's hands in case they were needed. There was nothing left to do except to go to work. Bethany had informed Mary that a dozen or so of the young female medical students who were currently serving as interns had expressed interest in participating in Jim Wilson's examination. Some of these girls, whose ages ranged from eighteen to twenty-one, had already been the recipients of Jim's displeasure and were desirous of witnessing the effects of Infiritol upon him first hand. Mary wholeheartedly agreed. Upon arriving at the lab a half an hour early, she had the unfortunate experience of watching her boss berate one of the newly hired girls—an eighteen-year-old fresh out of high school who had been hired as a file clerk. The pretty girl crouched before him as though expecting him to lash out at her with some imaginary weapon. She stood just outside the entrance to his office holding a stack of files in her hands. She seemed to be on the verge of tears. "But you must be an idiot!" he screamed at her. "Who hired you? Tell me right now so that I can fire her and you!" "I'm not sure who it was, Mr. Wilson," the poor girl replied, her voice full of distress. "I'm sorry I spilled coffee all over your files. It was an accident. Please don't fire me!" With that the terrified creature broke down in earnest. Mary rushed to her aid, taking the stack of files from the teary-eyed girl's hands and putting them down on her own desk. "What's going on here?" she said to Jim. "This...this fool spilled coffee all over the Yamaguchi account!" he replied angrily, not taking his eyes off the girl. "You can print out another copy, certainly." "These were the original signed copies! Now I have to send them back to Mr. Yamaguchi to be signed all over again! Stupid girl!" The girl, whose name was Alicia, was openly crying now, muttering something about her not feeling quite well. "I don't give a damn how you feel!" Jim roared. "Get the hell out of my office!" Alicia was about to proffer a timid attempt at supplication but thought the better of it and rushed down the hall, her pretty face covered in tears. "That was completely uncalled for," Mary said to her boss. "You had no right to speak to her in that tone of voice." "Watch it, Mary," he warned her. "I'm not in a very forgiving mood." "I'm going to tell your father what's going on here!" "Go right ahead. But just remember this. Your job is no more secure than hers." He glanced in the direction of the fleeing girl. "Now leave me alone and get to work!" The two stared at each other momentarily, eyes flaring, and then he turned his back on her and slammed the door in her face. "Fucking bastard!" she swore under her breath. "I'll get to work all right. I'll get to work on you!" Mary thought it a pity that no one else was around to have witnessed the altercation. There was a part of her that greatly desired to see the hostility shown to her boss by her fellow employees increase, making his upcoming trials even more palatable to her. If she had felt any lingering reluctance to proceed with her plan, this latest fiasco erased the last vestiges of it once and for all. His bullying treatment of the girl, who could not have possibly been any real threat to him or his precious account, and his saddling her with the task of firing one of her friends—something which he should have done on an official level—left her with the opinion that Jim Wilson was nothing short of a coward. And it was with great relish that she added this last defect of personality to the burgeoning arsenal of other distasteful attributes with which his character was so comprised, reinforcing her desire to make him pay dearly for his crimes. The first thing she did was to comfort Alicia, who was now hiding in the ladies room rinsing her face with water. The girl started violently when Mary entered, half expecting her maniacal boss to come barging in with more insults to hurl at her. When she saw Mary's face she started to cry anew, thinking she was the harbinger of dreadful news. "Please don't tell me that he fired me," the girl sobbed. "Please don't." "No," Mary answered softly. "You're safe...for now." Alicia went back to wiping her eyes with a paper towel, taking little comfort in Mary's assurances. On the sink in front of her was a tube of eyeliner. "He had no right to treat me like that," the blonde beauty said. "He called me an idiot!" "I know. I heard every word. I'm sorry." There were smudges around her eyes where her eyeliner had started to wear off and Mary took it upon herself to play makeup artist. "You don't have to," Alicia said as Mary cleaned away the inky mess on her face, replacing it with fresh eyeliner. "Just be quiet and let me help you. You can't go out there looking as you do." For several minutes the two women faced each other in silence. When Mary was done adjusting Alicia's makeup she put the tube of eyeliner back in the girl's hand and stood back to admire her handiwork. "You are a lovely young woman," Mary said, appreciating the girl's natural beauty. "Even with your makeup all smudged up." "Thank you," Alicia replied, feeling far more comforted now that she had gained control of herself. "Feeling better now?" Alicia shook her head and smiled. "May I ask you something, Ms. Douglas?" "Of course." "Why does he treat people that way?" "Because he suffers from a delusion." "What delusion?" "That he is somehow better than the lot of us." "But he's not. He's not better than anybody." "As I said, he suffers from a delusion." She stared at Mary for a moment. There seemed to be a hint of pity in her eyes. "How do you put up with it?" the girl asked. "I really don't have much of a choice do I? I assume you like to eat?" Alicia nodded in the affirmative, but looked perplexed. "Yes, why?" "Well, so do I. And if you are a person who enjoys eating then you must work to buy the food. No work, no food." "But surely you could find another job somewhere." "In today's job market? No, my dear. Jobs are scarce and very hard to come by now. At least the jobs that pay any half decent wages. And so I endure because I like to eat. That's what I tell myself every time that son of a bitch uses me and my girls for target practice." "I think it's horrible. To be ill used like that." Mary studied the girl's impeccable features. She was indeed beautiful, but she possessed such integrity of character that it made her inner beauty transcendent to the physical, inviting her confidence. Mary felt that she had found a compatriot. "I know you weren't at the meeting on Tuesday..." "I wanted to go," Alicia interrupted, "but I wasn't invited." "An oversight on my part," Mary said in an apologetic tone. "So let me make up for it by inviting you to join my group and I tonight in the genetics lab on sub-floor 3. We are preparing something special for Mr. Wilson." She said this with a mischievous grin, hinting to Alicia that something retributive was in store for their tyrannical boss. "No kidding?" Alicia asked, her eyes widening. "What's going on?" "I can't tell you now. Just be there at 7:00 p.m. sharp and don't breathe a word of what we've discussed." "I'll be there." Mary left the girl and returned to her desk. It was almost 9:00 a.m. and she had a ton of work to take care of before her lunch break at 1:00 p.m. Thankfully, Jim was to be in conference the entire morning, so this left her free to communicate her final instructions to her accomplices without any interference from him. The day wore on in much the usual way. When Jim did return to his office he immediately left for lunch, so Mary knew that he would be out for at least a few hours or more. During this time she went over the details of her plan inch by inch, paying each of her co-conspirators a visit to make certain that there were no lingering doubts about what they needed to do. Satisfied that all the elements of her upcoming abduction and reduction of Mr. Wilson were now in place, she spent the final hour at her desk awaiting her boss's return. His lunch hour had been extraordinarily long. When he strode into his office it was half past five. At first he seemed preoccupied with some paperwork and had no communication with Mary for at least a good half hour. She began to worry that he might go home early now that the Yamaguchi account would have to wait until Monday. After another hour had passed with no response from him, she got up and walked into his office, hopeful that he was indeed going to remain late. "Why are you still here?" he asked her as she glided gracefully into the room. "The same reason you are. I have leftover work to take care of and I don't want it sitting around for me on Monday." He grunted his approval and lowered his head down towards the top of his desk as his pen flew across several sheets of paper. "Is there anything I can get you?" "A cup of Earl Grey," he replied gruffly, without lifting his head. "Coming right up!" Mary gingerly exited the room and went into the kitchen where she began preparing the tea. When it was ready she took the tiny vial of liquid sedative given to her by Bethany, removed the glass tube, and put three drops of the liquid into his teacup. She then carried the tea into his office and left it sitting on his desk while he worked. He was so preoccupied that he didn't even acknowledge her presence. So far, so good, she thought. After a few minutes had passed she went into his office under the pretence of asking him a question about one of the company accounts. She noticed that he had drunk some of the tea and was still hard at work. "Yes?" he asked. "What is it?" "I have a few letters requiring your signature." "Leave them on the desk. I'll get to them later." "Yes sir." Mary placed the reports on his desk and turned to go. Just as she put her foot out the door she heard him groan loudly. "Is everything all right, Mr. Wilson?" He slowly raised himself up from his crouching position and rubbed his face with his hands. "Oh, my. All of a sudden I feel so...woozy!" "Can I get you anything?" "No, no. I'll be all right." He made a feeble attempt to get out of his chair but fell back into it, looking around him as if he had misplaced his legs. Mary advanced toward him cautiously, waiting for the potion to do its work. "You look awfully pale, Mr. Wilson." "I think...I think...you should call...a doctor," he said, as his head wobbled back and forth. "That's exactly what I'm going to do!" she replied, chuckling to herself as she picked up his phone. Within seconds he was out cold, the upper portion of his body resting comfortably on the top of his desk. "Okay, Bethany," she said into the phone. "It's time." It took Mary, three women from accounting, and Jo and Evie—two nurses who were physically up to the task—to put the drugged man onto a stretcher and wheel him into the lift. As the lift's doors opened on sub-floor 3, a crowd of women were waiting, Dr. Devlin first among them. "Wheel him into room 17A and strap him onto the table," she said to Mary. "He should be coming around in a few minutes. Hurry." The crowd trailed Mary and her group as they made their way to the designated room. As the unconscious man was moved from the stretcher onto the table, his legs and feet were secured with leather straps, effectively immobilizing him. Bethany leaned over him and checked his pulse. "He's coming round now," she said. Within seconds Jim opened his eyes and tried to focus upon the leering faces all around him. He moaned loudly several times, shaking his head back and forth as if trying to free himself of some invisible restraint. Slowly the faces became more distinct, and a look of absolute horror came upon him. "What...what is this?" he croaked. "Where am I?" "You are in examination room 17A, Mr. Wilson." Dr. Devlin said calmly. "Why...why am I here? And what are these straps for?" "We need to keep you restrained for a little while. Don't worry. No one is going to hurt you." "Hurt me? What do you mean? Take these...take the straps off me now!" Jim struggled in vain to free his arms from the leather straps but soon realized it was useless. "Get me out of here, doctor!" he screamed. "Now!" "No," the doctor replied coolly. "They will stay on until we're done with you." "Done with me? What do you mean, 'done with me'?" He looked at Mary, his eyes displaying the fear of a trapped animal. "Mary! What is she talking about? Why are you doing this? Mary!" "The doctor is going to take a sperm sample from you, Mr. Wilson. Actually, all the ladies here are going to take a tremendous amount of sperm from you, sir." "What?" Jim screeched. "What in heaven's name are you talking about? Have you people lost your damn minds? Mary, please! This joke has gone far enough! Now release me this instant!" "Oh, shut the fuck up, you asshole!" Angie Robinson said to the frightened man. "You're lucky we're not stringing the likes of you up on a gallows!" "If it was up to me," Margaret sneered, "I'd bust your damn testicles instead of milking them!" "What did I do to deserve this?" Jim pleaded to the crowd. "What did I do?" The women, all fifty or so of them, including the young female medical students, began to laugh and snicker amongst themselves. Threats, insults, words of condemnation, all were hurled with careless abandon into the face of the prostrate man, and with no respect whatsoever for any sense of propriety. A Dose of His Own Medicine "You dare to ask us such a question?" Jenny said, incredulous that her boss should be so oblivious to the collective pain they had suffered at his hands. "For years we have paid the price of your arrogance and disparagement and you ask us what you did to deserve our wrath? Fool! Imbecile! Reprobate! Why just the other day you exposed yourself to Mary, you shameful wanker! And this very morning you insulted our own dear Alicia, a mere child, for no good reason other than it gave you some perverse form of pleasure to beat her down. You monster! You scoundrel!" "I don't mean to be cruel!" he pleaded. "It's just that...I'm under a lot of pressure. You understand that, don't you Jenny?" "Oh, we understand all right," Alicia answered. "We understand only too well." So far, Mary had said nothing to her boss, and he now turned to her in a last-ditch effort to save himself. "Mary," he begged, "you of all people know how much stress I'm under. You can't hold me responsible for every action I take. You can't!" He struggled savagely with the straps that held him bound to the table and cursed every woman in the room in the most foul language he could muster. The beleaguered secretary/office manager barely showed any emotion as she briskly tugged on the strap that held his right leg secure. "Oh, but I do hold you responsible, Mr. Wilson. Many of us have stressful jobs. But we don't go round insulting, harassing, and assaulting each other. Now it's time for you to pay for your crimes." "Crimes? No, please, Mary! Please!" he implored the taciturn face before him. "I'll give all of you a raise. Yes! A fifty percent raise across the board! And a public apology as well! Anything! Please!" "It's too late for that now," the implacable secretary replied. "Far, far too late." Jim's body was lying flat on the table, but the doctor, in order to aid her in the upcoming demonstration, pressed a button on a remote control unit she was holding in her hand, which lifted the patient's upper body slightly so that it was on a 45-degree angle to the lower part of the table. Now, fully cognizant, the terrified man looked all around the room and saw a vast sea of female faces closing down upon him, their eyes full of contempt and demanding retribution. There was the doctor, standing stoically to his left, in her right hand a large hypodermic needle. On either side of her stood Jo and Evie, ready to assist her when necessary. When he saw the needle, he reacted fearfully, tugging away on his restraints with great ferocity. "But this...this is outrageous!" he cried to Mary. "What you are doing is against the law! I will have you, all of you, publicly eviscerated!" This threat was received with a round of raucous jeers. "I mean it!" he screamed. "If you don't release me right now I'll have every one of your heads on a platter!" His feeble threat caused the crowd to react with gales of laughter. Jim pulled upon his straps in vain. After expending a great deal of his energy in this pursuit, and seeing that there was no way out, and that these demonic creatures before him were not going to let him escape without exacting their own novel form of vengeance, he lay there breathing hard, waiting for whatever was to befall him. "Let's get him naked," Mary instructed her friends. His protestations notwithstanding, the woman applied themselves diligently to the task of removing his clothes—tearing, clutching, and maneuvering in every way possible to accomplish the task. Mary and Bethany watched with professional detachment as a slew of hands came rushing forward to strip the bewildered man. To his utter dismay, Jim was soon denuded of every piece of clothing he had on. The last piece to come off was his underwear, and it was Alicia who had the satisfaction of removing it. He was now completely nude. "Well, Angie," Mary snickered as she saw her boss's penis spring into view," that's one rumor you can put to rest!" Angie laughed. "I guess he is hung like a horse after all! And he's not even hard yet!" The women responded to his nudity with a mixture of amusement and fascination, as it seemed his penis, although not fully erect, was large enough in its present state to promise the potential of further significant growth. "Now listen to me carefully," Mary said to her boss. "Doctor Devlin is going to inject you with a liberal dose of Infiritol. She will inject the drug directly into your scrotum. You can expect swelling along the genital area to occur as the drug begins to take effect. Do you understand?" Jim looked at her with a vicious scowl on his face. "Of course I understand you wicked little bitch! I know everything there is to know about that drug and I know what you're trying to do to me!" "We don't want to hurt you, Mr. Wilson. We just want to humble you. Bring you down a few pegs so to speak. Stick your face in it, if you prefer. But no matter how much you threaten us. No matter how much you plead or beg for mercy, nothing is going to prevent us from exacting our revenge." Seeing that there was nothing further to be gained from his heartless secretary, Jim now appealed to the other women. "Dr. Devlin...Bethany," he said turning to her with all the pathos he could muster. "You're a doctor. You swore an oath to do no harm." Bethany was not to be moved by such a pathetic attempt to instill pity in her. "You're not going to be harmed. You're just going to have the most massive orgasm of your life—at our expense. Relax and enjoy it. We certainly are." Jim immediately saw that the doctor was just as intransigent as his secretary and instead of wasting any further time with her, directed his appeal to the two buxom, middle-aged nurses who had assisted Mary in bringing him downstairs. "Jo...Evie..." he began. "Don't let them do this to me. I'm begging you..." "Beg?" Jo fired back. "You must be kidding. You're a proper charitable case you are. Beg indeed!" Evie didn't even bother to answer him. All she did was to give him a very cold look and turn away. Frantic for sympathy, for some tiny bit of human kindness that could be used as a remedy to thwart the overwhelming contempt that filled the room like a heavy fog, Jim made another and final general appeal to the assemblage of grim faces that watched over him. "I know I've been hard on some of you," he admitted meekly. "But I only did it because I wanted my company to be successful. I wanted you, all of you, to be proud to work for me...I mean, for Wilson Labs. But when I saw some of you slacking..." "Slacking?" said Audrey, a 64-year-old, gray-haired secretary. "I've not met one woman in this room who could ever be accused of 'slacking'!" "I...I'm sorry," Jim replied nervously. I don't mean slacking...I...I mean to say that you people should have shown the same devotion to your jobs as I did." "Now we're getting to it!" Margaret said. "Well, isn't it the truth?" he retorted, still searching for a sympathetic face. "Nonsense!" Angie said, hitting the metal handle of the examination table with her hand. "To us a job is just—a job. But to you it's an obsession. That's why you put us through the ringer!" "Exactly right, my dear!" Jo said. "Straight through the ringer he put us, he did! Why I don't think there is a woman amongst us who hasn't been reviled by him at one time or another for not living up to his impossible standards. Ain't that right, Mr. Wilson?" Jim fumbled for an answer but he had no adequate reply to such a direct question. "Ain't that right, Mr. Wilson?" she asked again, only this time a lot louder. Since he could not compromise his dignity by answering in the positive, nor be so foolish as to lie without garnering even more of the crowd's animosity, he glared at the nurse with newfound hatred, as she flaunted her enormous breasts in front of his face. "You can all go fuck yourselves!" he yelled, struggling to free himself yet again. "We've wasted enough time," Mary said to Bethany. "Give the son of a bitch the shot." As he saw the needle come toward his testicles, Jim hastily drew his legs together. But Mary ordered Jo and Evie, and several other women, to take hold of each of his legs, forcing them apart. He screamed loudly at the intrusion of the needle into his scrotum, which made everyone laugh with delight. "Stop complaining!" Bethany said, as she withdrew the needle. "That was the most painful part. The rest is simply pure and lovely humiliation!" He growled at the doctor but said nothing. "In a minute or so you will feel a slight tingling sensation in your scrotum," she continued. "That's the result of the buildup of trillions of sperm being manufactured at a very, very fast rate. You will experience the desire to masturbate but, with your hands restrained, the women will have to help you out." She turned to Mary. "I have all the cameras turned on. They will record everything." "Excellent!" Mary replied. "Did you hear that?" she said to her boss. "Everything!" "Oh, and by the way, Mr. Wilson," Bethany said. "You can expect your penis and scrotum to double in size." She said this in such a perfunctory way that Jim thought she was kidding. "Whatever you say, doc!" he replied, with a smirk on his face. After several minutes had passed, Jim's genital area was still seemingly unaffected. Taking pride in the fact that he had made his tormentors look like a bunch of fools, he started to insult them, as he often did as a matter of routine. Mary and the others took it all in stride, knowing that the drug sometimes took longer to take effect on certain individuals. "It's not working, doctor," he said goading her. "I don't feel anything." "You will soon enough," Bethany assured him. "I can tell you that at any moment now you're going to be reaching desperately for your prick." "Bullshit!" he scoffed. "You're just as incompetent as the rest of your staff." "This wanker is really looking for a slap to his balls, ain't he?" Evie remarked, raising her hand up as if to hit him. Another minute passed by—and then another. Mary was starting to think her plan might backfire. She looked warily at Bethany, but the doctor smiled reassuringly. "Nothing's happening," Mary said to her accomplice. "Something must be wrong." "Be patient," Bethany said, staring down at Jim's genitals. "Everyone just be patient." Jim was now openly deriding them. "What a bunch of fuck-ups you all are!" he grinned. "I'm going to enjoy giving all of you the sack. I'll even take some time out to go visit you in prison!" As the minutes went by Mary began to lose hope that the drug would work. Jim continued to deride everyone, cursing freely and unashamedly, inventing some of the most reprehensible vulgarity she had ever heard to hurl at them. But now, just as a full ten minutes had passed, he stopped laughing. Looking down at his crotch he saw the skin around the area begin to flush a dull crimson, then deep red. He screamed aloud as his cock and balls began to swell to twice their normal size, filling up with vast reservoirs of semen the doctor had so accurately predicted. "Look what's happening to me!" he cried, reacting violently to the changes taking place in his body. "It's all right, Mr. Wilson," Bethany said calmly. "It's a normal reaction to the drug. Just relax." "It feels like a thousand ants are crawling all over me!" "That's normal. It will only last a few seconds." Now he was the one on the receiving end of the women's ridicule. But he wasn't paying any attention to them. His eyes were concentrated solely on his dick, which was now performing some aberrant acrobatics of its own. "My cock!" he exclaimed with utter horror. "What's happening to it?" Jim's terror was reflected in the multitude of faces surrounding him. Before their astonished eyes the women watched his penis, which only a moment ago was an impressive ten inches, double in size in a matter of seconds, wildly bobbing up and down under its own volition. It twitched violently under the influence of the drug such that all normality was lost, replaced with a genetic directive designed to accommodate the needs of his sperm-enhanced condition. "Oh, my God!" one of the women said aloud, her eyes focused on the fleshy behemoth between Jim's legs. "Look at it go!" "What's going on?" Jim cried. "Doctor! Help me!" "Your penis is undergoing a paroxysm induced by the drug," Bethany replied, enjoying the little dance his cock was performing. "It will cease momentarily." As she predicted, the novelty shortly wore off, and the women began laughing hysterically. Jim's cock was now jutting out before him like some impossibly elongated sausage, his genetically enhanced testicles, like two fleshy oranges, hanging below in dubious support. "Anybody for a waltz around the floor?" Margaret joked, making a dumb show with her index finger to indicate the flamboyant antics of his penis. Once the spasms ceased, Jim began to finally calm down. But something new was occurring within his testicles: the incredible influx of sperm was causing an irrepressible urge to masturbate. "You have to let me jerk off," he said to Bethany. "Free one of my hands, please!" "You know we can't do that, Mr. Wilson," Mary said, enjoying his discomfort. "But you must," he said with a terrified look. "I can't endure this! Please!" "Oh, don't worry about that," Mary said complacently. "There are more than enough hands here to rid you of your nasty sperm." "No, I don't want any of you hags jacking my tool. Let me do it." Margaret pressed her way forward toward her boss and slapped him right across the face. "Hags?" she spat. "Who the fuck are you calling 'hags'?" "The little blighter's got a lot of cheek to call us hags lying there like that!" Angie added. "I have to cum!" he screamed. "And so you will you Mr. Wilson," Mary said. "You're going to cum so much that you won't be able to fuck any of your high-priced celebrity sluts for at least a year!" This went over well with the crowd, who now began to berate him unmercifully. Margaret took it upon herself to slap her boss once again, this time with even more relish. "Pig!" she said over and over again. "Bethany," Mary said. "Bring the table up so that his entire body is at a 45-degree angle. Ladies, get in line. It's time for the milking to begin!" The women enthusiastically formed an impromptu line with Alicia in front as the bottom portion of the table moved upwards to lock in place. Jim's body was now so positioned as to give the women full access to his genitals. "We're going to milk you so dry that your testicles are going to fall off!" the lowly grunt said to Jim as she gloated over his shaken form. Despite the fact that he could not break free of his holds, the condemned man fought valiantly against them, especially now that the urge to ejaculate was overpowering. His prick was straining under the influence of the Infiritol drug, with trillions of sperm being manufactured every few minutes and demanding release. "Any time you're ready, Mary," Bethany said. Mary smiled sadistically at her boss and then gave Alicia permission to begin with a simple nod of her head. "Drain him!" the willful redhead commanded her subordinate. "Drain every drop of sperm from this mother fucker!" Alicia gingerly moved to one side of the fettered man and grabbed hold of his enormous prick, which was already leaking copious amounts of pre-cum. With a technique that can only be described as bordering on extreme roughness, she let her hand fly up and down his huge pole with casual disregard for his comfort, laughing as she did so. "Insult me would you?" she said, sneering in his face as her hand furiously pumped him. "So that you can make your tiny, little ego feel better?" This time she pulled savagely on his organ, causing him to wince. "Yes. That hurt didn't it? Well it's nothing to what you did to me, you bastard!" Jim felt as if his sperm was boiling within him, as if his scrotum was a pressure cooker and Alicia's long and delicate fingers were poised to manipulate a release valve. He really detested the fact that she, above everyone else, was going to be the first to masturbate him. Although she was quite a lovely girl, she was also his inferior—or so he believed—and this caused him a great deal of humiliation. "Little office girl got her big boss by the bits, don't she?" Alicia teased him. "Pretty soon I'm going to force you to cum. Now who has the power, huh?" Jim could only look on in horror as the vicious girl dominated him completely. Despite his dislike for her, he could not help resist the incredible pleasure he was getting from her powerful handjob. "How much do you think he's going to cum, doctor?" Angie asked. "I'd say you could expect a very energetic eruption," Bethany replied. "So it would be wise if all of you stood clear." At her suggestion the line swayed precipitously to the right in deference to her warning. Jim was now on the verge of ejaculating. "My little hands are going to make your big dick cum now," Alicia laughed aloud. "I can feel all those little spermies dying to come out. Come out little spermies! Come out!" "Make him splash it all over the wall, Alicia!" Margaret squealed. Jim threw his head back and let out a huge roar as his prick succumbed to the insistent manipulations of the girl's expert handjob. Every eye was focused on Alicia's fast-moving hand as she brought him off to a glorious climax. "It's going to spit!" the adorable but ill-treated blonde cried as her fingers caressed the huge purple head crowning his stiff shaft. A second later and a long, thick jet of molten white cream flew out of the tiny slit atop his cock and sailed across the entire length of the room—more than twenty feet—to land in a tray of medical instruments. The women, at first astonished to see such an amazing cumshot, erupted simultaneously into wild applause. A second burst of sperm followed, and then another, and another—all induced by Alicia's persistent tugging, forcing ropes of Jim's tormented seed to careen into the opposite wall and immediate environs. "Wow!" Angie laughed, as the fourth and fifth spurts shot out over the exam tables on the far side of the room. "Keep them coming, sir!" For his part, Jim could do nothing except remain immobile. Such was the power of the drug that all feeling was concentrated in his genital area, leaving the rest of his body weak and ineffectual. All he was capable of doing was to observe Alicia pull away on his prick, as his body convulsed with absolute pleasure. Mary watched her newly hired office girl, the one who had been so unjustly degraded by this worthless man, continue to stroke her boss's dick with the utmost abandon, never pausing to stop until she knew he had given up all his sperm for her. Mary could tell that the girl was loving every minute of it, humiliating him in the best way a woman could humiliate a man: by using his penis as the method of his punishment. Jim's bloated and superheated balls continued to supply his prick with all the cum they would need for a multitude of milkings that were certain to follow. He knew multiple orgasms of incredible propensity had been recorded in many of the lab reports he had studied regarding the efficaciousness of the drug. But never before had the drug been administered directly into the scrotum, so he had no idea what he was in for. Now, as Alicia continued to taunt him, he answered in the only way now possible: by ejecting huge amounts of cum high into the air for her, and everyone else's, amusement. "Hello!" one of the matronly-looking women screeched as another of Jim's long and heavy loads splashed into a nearby chair. This was followed by an enormous barrage of sequential spurts that filled the air with arcs of white, some of the jets coating the floor in front of him, while others sailed out happily into the distance. He was exhilarated at the amount of sperm he was ejaculating. It had now been a full minute since his orgasm began and he was breathing heavily.