Wendy Corduroy nervously walked into her job at the Mystery Shack in the woods of Gravity Falls, Oregon. Usually relaxed and care-free, Wendy had a good reason to be worried. Her best friend Tambry had scored tickets to a concert on Friday...meaning that she would miss her shift as cashier at the Shack. She couldn't ask Soos or either of the Pines twins to cover her; Friday was the start of the "busy weekend rush," (at least what would be considered busy in this small town) and her boss demanded that he'd have "all hands on deck."

"Grunkle" Stan Pines was the owner of the Mystery Shack. He spent his lifetime turning his home into a tourist trap, exploiting the paranormal and filling his house with some of the weirdest (yet cheesy) objects known to man. At his surface, Stan seemed like nothing more than an egotistical, money-grabbing old coot, but Wendy knew that the elder had a soft side; this being the most apparent when he spent time with the twins, Dipper and Mabel. And besides, he was cool enough to give an inexperienced 15-year old a summertime job to earn some extra spending money. As Wendy knocked on Stan's office door, she gave herself odds of 50/50 in her favor.

"Knoc-Ock!" Wendy announced as she entered the office. Stan was sitting behind his desk, busily partaking in his favorite activity: counting the weekly income. "Huh?" he looked up at the visitor. "Oh, it's only you, Wendy..." he lowered his eyes back to his desk and resumed counting the large sum of money. "So...whatdya want, Wendy?"

Wendy began to try a different approach. "Mr. Pines," she said, crossing her arms behind her back, and rocking back and forth on her heels . "As the world's "bestest" boss, I think I can come to you with any problem, right?" She proceeded to give a puppy-dog-pout look to gain sympathy.

Stan didn't even gaze up at the teenager. "Sorry. That cutesy stuff may work on Soos and Dipper, especially Dipper, but not on me," he boasted. He began to pound on his chest, "There's nothing inside this old body but a stone-cold heart." "Still," he continued. "I'll give you props for trying. Next time, I recommend offering a bribe or two..."

Wendy resumed her natural posture and stood in front of Stan's desk. "Ok, I'll level with you. I really, really, really need this Friday off," she explained. "Is there anything I can do to convince you to let me off the hook?"

Stan shot up from his chair and began to shout angrily, "Uh-Uh! No way! Absolutely not! Out of the question!"

Defeated, Wendy lowered her green eyes to the ground and sighed. She turned around and began to head to her duties when Stan began again,

"However, perhaps we can cut a deal..."

Wendy began to perk up and turned around to hear Stan out, again, sitting at his desk.

"Look," he continued. "I have a huge article event here at the Shack coming up in a few days, and the fact of the matter is that I really need a model for one of the displays. I tried to hire someone for the gig, but no one would settle for minimum wage and all of the Diet Pitt Cola they could drink. If you agree to help an old man out of a jam, you can have this Friday off. Whatdya say?"

Wendy was taken aback by his offer. She knew that she was pretty, but she never considered herself to be "model-pretty," like all those glossed up celebrities seen in her favorite magazines. Honestly, Wendy was secretly embarrassed that Stan thought of her to fill such a task, and yet, she felt odd about the offer. Something didn't add up...

"So," Wendy inquired. "All I have to do is stand around..."

"Sit around, technically." Stan corrected.

"Cool. Sit around your display for the event, and I get my day off. No secret catches or anything like that?"

"You got it." Stan confirmed. "Do we have a deal or what?" Stan stood up and offered his hand in agreement.

Wendy hesitated for a moment, but then, shook her boss's hand.

She thanked Stan again, and ran out of the door in excitement. Stan calmly sat back down in his chair, with a mischievous grin spread across his face, and quietly began to laugh to himself.

(a few days later)

"Well, I shoulda seen this one coming..." Wendy sighed to herself as she was lowered into the structure. In her excitement, Wendy envisioned herself dressed elegantly in her favorite green dress and black high heels displaying Stan's new wares. She should have guessed something was amiss when he requested that she'd come dressed "as she normally was." As Wendy heard the various latches snap into place, she reflected on how she found herself in this predicament...

Earlier that day, Wendy excitedly walked into the Mystery Shack, ready to fulfil her modeling duties. Stan was waiting for her.

"Good!" he exclaimed. "You're here. Let's get down to business."

"You bet!" Wendy chirped. "So, where is this thing that I'm supposed to model?"

"Man, you must really want that day off, huh?" shot Stan. "I've never seen you this excited for work. Anyway, I have everything set up where the old Wax Museum display used to be. Follow me down the hall."

Wendy followed the old entrepreneur past the gift shop and around the corner. Stan entered the room to the left in which previously housed the old Wax exhibit. One day, the famed statues that Stan got "for a steal" simply vanished, and for some reason, no one around the house really seemed to care. Wendy thought it was strange, but why should she question it? After all, Stan was constantly changing and updating the displays, so Wendy brushed it off.

As Wendy was about to follow her boss into the new showcase, she took notice of the new signature hanging above the doorway:

"FAMED TORTURE DEVICES OF MEDIEVAL TIMES
ENTER AT YOUR OWN PERIL!"

"Oh boy!" Wendy thought to herself. "This can't be good..."

Wendy reluctantly followed Stan into the room.

Wendy was shocked to see that within the short amount of time given, Stan and company completely renovated the entire room! The old Waxworks Stan housed were kept in a brightly lit wooden-paneled room with roped off display areas surrounding each display. 48 hours later, this was replaced with a dank, grey bricked room covered with (hopefully fake) spider webbing and a thick layer of dust. As she explored the room, Wendy studied the various restraints and torture devices that Stan had placed there from wall to wall.

"Let's see here..." Wendy thought to herself. "I see an iron maiden, shackles and fetters welded to the wall, a roller-based rack complete with a pulley and level system, and even a guillotine with a blade secured at the top (again, Wendy hoped it was fake). In front of each device, there was a small station with a camera situated at its base. Next to each camera, lied a clear container with the phrase "1 picture = $3" taped to its outside. Wendy sighed to herself, "...just like Stan..."

"Hey!" Stan shouted, interrupting Wendy's train of thought. "Come and check out your station for the day!"

Wendy turned around, behind her to the rightmost side of the room. Stan stood to her left, extended his Magic 8-Ball mounted cane towards her fate.

Stan stood next an old time pair of wooden stocks. Wendy guessed by their positioning that they were meant to hold a victim's ankles in place. The stocks were attached together at the side using some sort of metal latch. She peered behind wooden display to see a small cushion against the wall, presumably where said victim should sit. Finally, Wendy noticed a pair of manacles welded to the back wall. Wendy thought to herself, "I guess those are here to keep someone from freeing their captive feet.

After Wendy examined the crude restraints, she broke the awkward silence between herself and Stan. "Well..." she began. "What exactly do I do here?"

Stan leaned back and smiled, "It's simple, really. You model the display. You sit down. We lock you in. You look depressed, which is pretty much how you look every day at work."

Wendy recoiled back in terror. "WHAT?! ME?! IN THAT?! she exclaimed. "Not a chance..." she muttered as she began to storm out of the room.

"Nuh-Uh," Stan called out from behind her. "We had an agreement, missy! You walk out, now; there's no way you'll be able to go to that concert on Friday!"

"What?!" Wendy stopped in her tracks. "How did you know about that?!"

Stan laughed to himself and pointed to his trademarked red fez with his cane. "They don't call me 'Mr. Mystery" just because I'm an enigma to the ladies." Wendy silently groaned to herself at this remark. He continued, "I know what's up with all of the hip young people of this town."

Wendy looked down at her muddy boots in despair.

Stan continued to explain as he approached the conflicted Wendy. "Look, kid. I'll level with you. Your friends are counting on you to make it to this concert. I need a barefoot wench I can use a display dummy for a few hours."

Wendy looked up and shot Stan an angry look for the use of the term, "dummy." Stan started again, "No offense meant. But the point is that I need you as much as you need me in this case. Plus, I'll sweeten the deal." He pointed to a small stand next to the stocks holding up an empty glass jar. "You got your own personal tip jar. Also, you have my word if any of those meddling kids you hang out with show up, I'll chase them out of here. There. A 0% chance of embarrassment."

Wendy nervously rubbed her shoulder, over thinking Stan's offer. "I...don't know..." she started. Stan cut her off, "It's like I said before: half of the time when you're working, you stand there, miserable and bored as if you're being tortured. Think about it, kid. It's the role you were born to play! So, whatdya say?"

A thin, yet uneasy smile spread on Wendy's dimpled face. "O...O...Okay. I'll do it..."

"I like your moxie, kid!" Stan bellowed excitedly. "Let's get started! "Soos!" screamed Stan, in a manner than was heard throughout the entire residence. Within seconds, the huge, yet gentle man-child came barreling into the room. He struggled to catch his breath, "Y...'wheeze'.You called, Mr. Pines?"

"Yes," Stan started to explain. "I need you to help Wendy get comfortably situated into the stocks over here." Stan used his cane to point at the restraints.

Soos hesitated for a moment, looking down at Wendy. "You...really want to do this?" he asked Wendy, still somewhat uneasy about the arrangement, put on a brave face. "You got it," she sighed. "It's like Stan said; it's the role I was born to play..."

Soos shrugged his shoulders. "That's good enough for me. Hang tight, now." Using only one of his powerful arms, Soos hoisted Wendy onto his shoulder, making her exclaim aloud in shock. Gently, he carried her over to the stock display and carefully set her down on the cushion positioned behind the wooden frame. Wendy looked up at Soos as he carefully lifts her arms to meet the metal shackles on the wall behind her. She noticed that a great sadness was spread across his face, with him even wincing upon hearing the heavy SNAP sound when closing the manacles on Wendy's dainty wrists.

"Hey, Soos..." Wendy gently called to the big kid. "Don't be upset..." Despite her limited range, she waved her hands at Soos, "See, I'm okay." A calmed expression spread across his face. Besides, it's only for a few hours, right, Stan?"

Stan, staring into the distance, not even paying attention to the task at hand, woke from his daydream at Wendy's call.

"Huh?" he questioned. He looked at the distressed Soos, "Oh yeah, fella. She'll be just fine. After all, it isn't like Wendy's just gonna get up and walk away...

Both Soos and Wendy rolled their eyes at Stan's incredibly lame pun.

"Well, anyways," Stan continued on, "Sorry to ask you to do this, Soos, but in a case like this, a man of my position has to be extra careful. After all, nothing good can come from a sentence that contains the phrase, 'Stan touched Wendy.'"

Soos chuckled to himself as he continued to strap Wendy in. He placed two straps over her jean-covered legs. "Fearful of Manly Dan, huh, Mr. Pines? Aren't we all?"

Wendy, still trying to get used to her confinement, looked up at the mention of that name. "Wait?" she questioned. "You guys heard of my father?"

Stan explained, "Yeah, you can say that. I had a 'discussion' with Manly Man once about a parking space. Let's just say that my shoulder still hurts every time it's about to rain..." Stan rubbed his right shoulder gently.

Wendy laughed to herself. "Nice..." She went down to ask Stan, "So, I'm guessing that's why you asked that I do this in my regular clothes rather than some skimpy outfit, right?"

Stan simply pointed to his nose. "Smart girl, smart girl...but speaking of..."

Wendy looked confused.

"Soos, I need you to relieve Wendy of her boots."

This made Wendy a bit nervous. Her mud covered boots were kinda her trademark. Besides, it wasn't like she had anything to hide. She just wasn't a 'barefoot' going person. She tried to argue with Stan, "But..."

"Sorry, my dear, but that's the thing about being a 'barefoot wench,' you kinda need the bare feet for that to work. Besides, if you leave them on, we can't close the stocks! They wouldn't fit in the holes!"

Wendy sighed, wiggling her booted feet laid out across the bottom half of the wooden structure.

"Soos," she said defeated. "Go ahead...just be gentle."

Soos went ahead to the front of the stocks and gently grabbed her ankles. Despite using a light tug, Soos yanked Wendy's socks halfway off alongside her boots. Soos, embarrassed, looked up at the half socked feet flexing in front of him. The socks were the same green and black striped pattern as Wendy's flannel shirt. Soos carefully approached Wendy's feet.

"Do I...I mean, should I just..?" he stammered.

"Yeah, just pull them off." Wendy approved.

Very gently, Soos pinched the area of sock right above the tips of Wendy's toes. He pulled up on the plaid colored socks. The socks slid off revealing a pair of milky white bare feet. Being a gentleman, Soos took Wendy's discarded socks and placed them into her boots for safekeeping. Wendy's feet flexed at the feeling of being exposed to the cold, damp atmosphere. She looked at her wiggling toes. Since Wendy rarely went barefoot, she always left her toenails unpainted (yet, made sure they were properly trimmed and groomed).

On the other side, Soos stared at the wrinkled snow-white soles. They were literally mirror image except that Wendy's left foot had a small brown birthmark right beneath her arch.

"Wow, Wendy..." Soos stammered.

"What?" Wendy questioned. "Is something wrong down there?"

"No, no, it's just that I never expected your feet to be so...so-"

Wendy interrupted, "What? White?" Wendy shuffled her bare feet in nervous reaction. "Maybe you haven't noticed by the rest of my complexion, but I really don't tan well."

"Oh, no, dude!" Soos explained. "Actually, I was gonna say, they're really, really small. It's kinda a huge contrast when you look at your huge boots.

Wendy sat back in relief. Soos did have a point. Unlike other girls of the same height, Wendy was gifted with having tiny feet. However, Wendy chose her oversized boots as more of a comfort and style choice.

Stan became annoyed with the delay. "Alright! Alright!" he shouted. "Enough of playing "This Little Piggy" with Wendy. I need you to wrap it up.

Soos stood up and apologized, "Sorry, Mr. Pines." He took each of Wendy's bare ankles and carefully lined them up in the holes of the bottom half of the stocks. He went to the side of the structure, and slowly began to lower the top half of the pillory. Finally, he secured the latch on the side of the stock, locking Wendy's feet in place.

Wendy, now fully secured, tested her bonds. She turned to her left and right hands shackled to the wall and trying to slip out of the restraints. While she could wiggle freely, there was no way her wrists were slipping out. Wendy tried to lift her knees, only to be held down by the straps going across the midsection of the structure. Still struggling, Wendy attempted to slide her bare feet from the holes in the stocks. Every time she pulled her feet back, they clunked against the wood paneling. Despite having smaller-than-normal feet, Wendy was unable to yank her toosties out of this trap.

Stan was right; she wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

Stan laughed at Wendy's predicament, "HA! Perfect! Well, kid. We have to get ready for the crowds coming soon." Soos took one more look at the helpless girl, then left to help prepare the Shack. Stan approached the redhead stuck in the stock,

"Look, if you need anything, here's something that you use to let us know." He reached into his tuxedo pocket and pulled out a miniature bell. He placed it on the top of the stock holding Wendy's feet in place. "Just ring if you need-"

Stan stopped himself after remembering Wendy's situation, ending with Wendy shooting him a nasty look.

"Oh, right..." he corrected himself. "You...can't use...your hands. Sorry! My mistake..." Stan reached back and removed the bell.

"Well, just yell like crazy, and we should hear you, hopefully." He wished Wendy 'Good Luck' and began to leave.

Wendy thought to herself, still fidgeting with her arm restraints, "Well, at least when Stan's gone, I can try to free my hands. That way, I can release the straps and latch and get out of this thing."

As Wendy continued on trying to free herself, Stan came back.

"Sorry, I forgot about something." he said, reaching once again into his tuxedo pockets. Wendy squinted to try to make out the object. Stan went to the latch holding the ankle stocks together and bent down, just out of Wendy's perspective. As she struggled to see the object, she shuddered when she heard a loud CLICK. Wendy already knew what had happened, but she still asked Stan just to confirm her fears.

"Hey, Stan? What was that loud clicking sound?"

"Oh, that! It's just a heavy duty padlock securing the latch here. Remember, Wendy, realism is key! Besides, we wouldn't want you to be let out of your deal too early."

Defeated, Wendy sunk back into her prison. What was she going to do now?