Chapter Nine
Alex padded out of the living room, satisfied with the thought of Alice's impending ruin.
The rotor blades came to life. The fan spun slowly at first, then it began to take on speed, growing faster after each rotation. Soon, it was a dizzying blur on the ceiling, whirring and whirring, circling and circling, like some crazed propeller.
Alice felt the wedgie tighten exponentially. Her panties dug deeper into her crack, wreaking havoc on her gorgeous glutes. And worse, the back of the super-stretched lingerie twisted with every turn of the fan. The thin strip of fabric between her thighs could hardly be called a "thong" now. Rather, the villainess looked as though she were clad in a sumo wrestler's hideous fundoshi. It was just too ridiculous. How she even remained stuck in such an embarrassing predicament for so long without a plan… she hadn't a clue. Breaking free was obviously the top priority. She reminded herself of that. But, at this point, she was honestly stumped. Nothing in her training could've prepared her for this… wedgie-bondage combo!
Her nerves had been hogtied into knots. Her throat constricted. The tension in her muscles mounted as the strain only increased. Likewise, the handcuffs which held the wicked woman down had neared their own limits. It wouldn't take much more for the whole set-up to come crashing.
Clink!
And that is precisely what happened.
The chain-link on her handcuffs broke. And, immediately, Alice found herself dragged out from under the sofa, then hoisted up into the air by her fancy panties.
"Mmmmmmppppphhhhhhh!" The fan spun her round and round. All the while, her undies bounced her up and down, up and down, grinding against her womanhood and giving her the most brutal butt flossing imaginable. One would've guessed that a bungee cord had been strapped around Alice's big, jiggling bum. It made her dance a high-flying parody of the sugar plum fairy dance, made her toes curl, made her nearly swallow the grubby pair of briefs still gagging her mouth. So sharp, so sudden, so shameless was the pain. The lovely cleft of her anus shuddered in sheer agony. And her pussy followed suit. Clutching her crotch, a laughable expression on her grimy face, Alice emitted a colorful range of dismal groans.
Was it possible for a single wedgie to break the space-time continuum, or suspend the laws of physics? From her perspective, that appeared very much the case. Seconds seemed to pass like minutes; minutes melted away like hours. But, before long, the telltale sound of popping threads punctuated the mayhem.
Pulled to ten times its original size, the wiry waistband of her panties finally burst under the stress. Everything from the front and back exploded into a hundred shredded bits and pieces.
On her part, Alice hadn't a chance to curse her rotten luck. Upon release, the centripetal force from the carousel ride catapulted her across the living room. The thief soared, a rain of panty-confetti trailing right behind her. That is, at least, until she collided with a nearby wall. Baaaaaam! And there, she stuck awhile, her limbs spread eagle, her naked ass and pussy bared for all to see, before she slid slowly down to the ground, haggard yet undoubtedly conscious.
God, she hated, hated, hated, hated, hated, hated, hated that shit-awful little brat!
Removing her mouth-gag, forcing herself to stand, she noted the terrible tingling betwixt her buns. Chunks of torn fabric remained scrunched up within the valley of her ass, crammed into those secret depths she hardly knew existed. She tried to excavate them, of course. She kept at it repeatedly. However, they were too far gone. At the end, she gave up on this absurd exercise, and went off to regroup with her cohorts – a difficult task in its own blighted way. The long, athletic legs she took such enormous pride in felt as heavy as lead. Her once confident stride had been reduced to an infantile waddle.
It was itself a struggle to move forward. And, when she discovered Unger and Jernigan still in the kitchen, she thought she would genuinely die from anger. The dimwitted duo sat by the Pruitts' dinner table, munching on a large Christmas spread raided from the fridge, guzzling wine and beer and whatever alcoholic drinks they'd been able to scrounge. "Buffoons!"
That got their attention. Both men paused, looked towards their lady superior, then returned to their feast without giving her another glance.
"You got a haircut… again?" Jernigan inquired, pointing to the woman's neon pink wig.
"More importantly," Unger added. "What happened to your pants? Did shorty steal them as a souvenir?"
Alice dismissed their jibes. "Shut up! I'm asking the questions here! So, where the heck were you idiots?! Didn't you hear me?! I needed back-up! B-A-C-K-U-P! The damned chip could've been ours! Have you twits forgotten about the mission?! The contract?! The money?!"
"Meh," Unger retorted, taking a swig of Heineken. "We heard you fine the first time. Didn't care to slow you down, though. After all, we're 'slack-jawed neanderthals'. Remember? We'd just muck up the whole operation. Best to leave it to the self-styled professionals, if you get what I mean. Heheheheh."
Such mutiny! Such insubordination! Alice seethed. So much so perhaps that her trembling rump almost busted a blood vessel. She could put these imbeciles out of their misery without effort. It'd be all too easy to pop a bullet into each of their empty noggins. Nevertheless, she figured that they might possess some lingering utility. A delightfully devilish idea occurred to her. The disheveled femme's mood lightened. Then, smiling coldly, she drew out the pistol she'd previously seized from Jernigan, aimed, and shot it.
Bang!
Less than an instant later, Unger howled. The beer bottle in his hand had shattered into a hail of shards, injuring him. "Fuckin' crazy bitch! Fuck! Mangled my hand! My fuckin' good hand! Now, how am I – ?!"
"Supposed to wield a gun, Mr Unger? Short answer – you won't. And I don't expect you to," Alice cooed, her tone suffused with sadistic glee. "Same goes for Mr Jernigan, really."
The mere mention of his name made the tech expert's blood freeze.
"Fortunately, he doesn't have an M16," Alice added as she snatched Unger's assault rifle from its position on the table. "I hope we understand each other... better. Rest assured, boys, this is nothing personal. Shall we get back to business?"
Jernigan nodded. Unger glared. Both were silent.
"Learning fast, I see. That's adorable. I believe you dolts are just about ready for your new assignments. Let's start with you, Mr Jernigan. I need you to hop on down to the basement and fetch me a fresh change of clothes. A pantsuit will do. Ideally, one that's been washed, dried, and ironed." At that, Jernigan rushed out of the kitchen. Alice was pleased. She next set her sights on Unger, and the rugged mercenary gulped. "As for you, Mr Unger, I have a very special task in store. Follow me."
The villainess signaled for Unger to walk. Cradling his wounded hand, staring at the barrel of Alice's gun, Unger shuffled along until they reached the foyer.
A staircase leading up to the second floor greeted them, outwardly normal, except for one nasty detail. Each tread, each level had been sprinkled liberally with thumb tacks! The tiny barbs twinkled menacingly, waiting for some unsuspecting victim.
Unger already anticipated the upcoming command. "You want me to climb this, huh?"
"Exactly."
"I'll go find a broom. Sweep 'em away."
Quickly, Alice cocked her pistol. "Oh no, Mr Unger. Not on my watch. Allow me to tell you what you're going to do instead. First, you're going to take off your boots. Then, you're going to march up those stairs. Is that clear enough, or do I have to further clarify my statement for that primitive pea brain of yours?"
There was no use arguing. Reluctantly, Earl Unger did as he was told. He ditched his boots, discarded his socks, and, steeling himself, took the most excruciating step he'd ever experienced. "Aaaaaaaaaaarrrgh!" Half a dozen spikes pierced his right foot. "Yaaaaaaaaaaarrrgh!" Many more stabbed his left. And the numbers only increased as he advanced. It spurred him on, drove him into full sprint, like a dog savagely electrified. Then, it was over. Arriving at the top, the huge man flopped onto his back, gripping his soles, growling impotently. "Graaawr! You psycho! You hag! You dirty skank! I'll kill you, damn it!"
"Hmm…. Sweet music to my ears," Alice remarked. It thrilled her to behold her new tactics bearing fruit. Moreover, Unger's charming spectacle of torment proved a welcome bonus.
Subsequently, Jernigan resurfaced from the basement, carrying a stack of garments.
Alice bade him closer. She rummaged through the pile, inspected it, scrutinized everything.
"Wha… what is this?"
Jernigan hesitated. "I… I couldn't locate a… a pantsuit. This was all they had."
"…!"
"Uh…. Please… please don't hurt me…."
Puzzlement devolved into disgust. The inexplicable mishmash of outfits which Jernigan had scavenged amounted to no more than an insult to high fashion and good taste. Alice grew ballistic. The despicable dame ranted and raved. "A joke! This has to be a joke! Look, Mr Jernigan. Explain to me. What is this?! A ballerina tutu, a leather jacket, a pair of weather-beaten galoshes, and… Hello Kitty panties? Seriously? Hello Kitty panties?! Do I look like a total moron to you? Do I look like a clown?!"
The man couldn't respond. All things considered, Alice certainly did look like a total moron and a clown. Mud smeared her face and caked the tatters of her snowsuit. Frazzled pink princess curls sprouted where, mere minutes ago, he recalled there being only stubble. Plus, she was nude from the waist down, save for a sagging utility belt which hid her feminine privies. Of course, it failed to cover the glowing red flesh of her ultra-conspicuous butt. And that wasn't the half of it. He registered the cracked nails, the bizarre limp, the odor of baked beans wafting about her…. All a far cry from the seductive ice queen that'd dominated their fantasies – both his and Unger's. Jernigan chewed his lip.
"Ugh! You're hopeless!" Alice stomped, fed-up. "Join Unger upstairs, and help that hyena onto his feet. We're not done here. Go! Hurry!"
"Y-yes, ma'am!"
Alice sighed. Right when she was beginning to feel in control again, circumstances sought to demean her and belittle her victories. She scowled at Jernigan's retreating form, then – alone at last – she undressed, shedding off her filthy old rags, trading them in for the new ones. "Grrrrr…. This'll chafe…."
Sure enough, she judged correctly. The baby-pink panties fit a breadth too snug. The elastics squeezed her adult hips, strangled the flow of oxygen to her head and chest. From behind, much of the cottony material had vanished into her massive bubble butt. In front, the panties had bunched up into her cooch, forming a distinct camel-toe, above which hung an image of the eponymous cartoon character with its sugary logo. Hello Kitty, indeed! It was obscene. A blatant signpost advertising her cunt to the whole wide world. And, to compound this humiliation, the tutu was much too short. Its frills and ruffles concealed nothing whilst displaying everything. Moreover, these embellishments rustled at the slightest motion, and rustled even louder now that the oversized galoshes made her clumsy gait even clumsier.
It didn't matter, though. Not at this stage anyway. The kid had fewer and fewer places to go to. And, besides that, her ingenious shift in strategy offered a revived glimpse of success. Triumph was, again, within her grasp. She savored the notion, relished it as she ascended the stairs up to the second floor.
Jernigan didn't dare laugh at her mismatched ensemble. Unger, his feet sore, nearly quipped about how she'd blend in well with a circus, but stopped himself, thinking it best to hold his tongue.
Alice surveyed the hall. There were six doors, six potential hideouts, and each needed to be searched.
She smirked. "Mr Jernigan, I count a total of six doors. Won't you be a dear and check the first?"
Clearly, fear overwhelmed logic. Burton Jernigan obeyed. And, as soon as he opened the door, he learned that the room behind was in actuality a linen closet. He also learned that it contained a spring-powered boxing glove which hurtled forward, pulverizing his unguarded nuts.
Bam! *Crrruuuunchhhh!*
The man fell to his knees then let loose a falsetto scream.
He would never ever have brats of his own. Likewise, his voice would forever leap eight octaves higher. Yet, these were the least of his worries. Five doors remained, all rigged with booby traps, and Alice wasn't quite finished with them.
Not by a longshot.
Thus, a hitherto unknown dimension of suffering foisted itself upon the two lackeys.
Door number two led to the parents' room. And, there, a crazed parrot pecked at Unger's eye.
Door number three led to the older brother's room. And, there, a blowtorch incinerated Jernigan's hair.
Door number four led to Alex's room. And, there, a tennis ball launcher smashed a few ribs from both.
All throughout, Alice giggled, mocking them from a safe distance, delivering snide side-comments that no self-respecting person would have ever endured except under extreme duress. Unger and Jernigan emerged from the ordeal battered and bruised. The former simmered with loathing; the latter gaped vacantly into the void, sapped of strength. Together, they lay exhausted on the ground, panting, wheezing, as their lady superior goaded them on.
"How are my favorite meat shields doing? Burned out? Bushed? Beat up? Well… that's too bad! Because I don't remember giving any of you permission to nap! So, move!"
Unger nudged his partner with his elbow. "Mr Jernigan, I think that's your cue. Do me a solid, eh?"
Eyes twitching, jaws chattering, unable to speak, the traumatized tech expert slowly rose. Like a zombie, he lurched towards the fifth door and, bracing himself, twisted the knob. Luckily, no bombs detonated, no alarms sounded, and no tripwires were triggered. He wiped the sweat off his brow, exhaled, then peered inside. It was the older sister's room. And there on the bed, beneath a mound of blankets, something seemed to be crouching, cowering, afraid. He wasn't sure what it was. But, its shape was human, and it was no larger than a child. Jernigan informed his comrades. "A-Alice, you have to see this."
The evil woman waddled over. She snarled. "Could it be?! The kid!"
"Wh-what do we do?"
Alice handed him a hockey stick. "Bash him."
"Bash him?" The mental picture made Jernigan nervous.
"Yes! I don't care if he's an eight year-old. After everything he's put me through, he deserves hell!"
"Maybe we shouldn't be so…."
"Soft! You've gone soft! I can't believe I'm surrounded by such spineless wimps! Ugh, fine. Pick! Either you crush him, or I do the same to you! Does that ease your sorry excuse for a conscience, Mr Jernigan?"
Jernigan was cornered. As shrill as her heart was black and cruel, Alice didn't leave him much of a choice. The man cautiously approached the side of the bed. He shut his eyes, lifted the improvised weapon, then brought it down hard, bludgeoning his target. The results would baffle them.
Whaaaam! *Peeeeeeeeep~* "Mwah! Mwah! Mwah! I love you!"
Flunky and superior were mutually taken aback. There should've been a meaty cacophony of fractured bones, perforated organs, and wrecked ligaments. Not a robotic Valentine's Day message! Shoving poor Jernigan away, Alice ripped off the sheets and exposed the anonymous figure – a stuffed gorilla doll.
They'd been royally duped. Alice gnashed her teeth. "Nobody makes a monkey out of me!"
Outside in the corridor, Unger chortled rebelliously. "He already has, and he's upping the ante!"
"Grrr…. What are you blabbering about, you simpleton?!"
He gestured at her bulky leather jacket. "On your shoulder, pumpkin. A brief discomfort."
In annoyance, Alice's frown intensified. She turned her head and rapidly froze. Terror hit her like a truck, because clasping onto her, staring with its beady eyes, was her worst nightmare, here materialized in all its fuzzy horror. It was a giant… white… rat! The largest she'd ever seen! Up close. Personal. Far too personal. Violating her space. Unclean. Virulent. Diseased. Spreading its germs! Alice went pale. Tremors wracked her voluptuous body, and her tutu shook audibly in concert. The world ceased to exist. The boy… the microchip… the cash… everything blipped out of her mind's periphery. Everything that is, except for herself and the rat, life and death. Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!" The femme fatale freaked. She leapt back, flung her arms up, emitting a girly squeal. Consequently, the shocked rodent was tossed into the air. It did a mini somersault, and dove downwards into Alice's top, lodging itself between her cleavage. "Aaaaiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeee!"
Skilled acrobat that it was, the rat then scuttled about in the dark of the leather jacket, heightening the cat burglar's panic. Alice slapped herself over and over, but every slap was deftly evaded. She could sense the hairless claws groping her breasts, her stomach, her armpits, her back, her spine. The rat's fur tickled her skin and sent across shudders of revulsion in equal measure. When it became evident that smacking her own tits silly had zero effect, she began spinning and twirling, hopping here and there as though she were a mad prima ballerina on steroids. This did the job.
The rat lost its grip. It fell out of the woman's jacket and onto her skirt, where it tumbled further down before hooking its claws on the rim of the tutu. Alice saw this, and she desperately wiggled her tush in an effort to loosen her much smaller opponent. "Aaaaaargh! It's not working! Help me, you dopes!"
Jernigan ran to her aid. He tried to strike the beast with his hockey stick, but couldn't get a clear shot at it. He swung once, twice, thrice, and missed each time. "Y-you're moving too much!"
"Pathetic!" Alice boomed. "I'm sick of excuses. You aren't a man. You are a worm, Mr Jernigan!"
"This is irrational…."
"A weak, lowly worm!"
"I don't have to put up with this!"
"Then spare me the drivel and swing, damn you. Show no mercy!"
Thus, focusing all his strength and all his pent-up rage, Jernigan attacked.
Unfortunately, as he did, the rat put into action its own calculated offensive. Maneuvering towards Alice's rear-end, it lunged for the titanic globes and bit into a colossal buttock. "Oooh!" The besmirched belle jumped, grabbing her ass with both hands. Then, when gravity kicked in, she descended fast, her groin coming into direct contact with the upward curve of the unyielding hockey stick.
Thwaaaaack! *Crrrrrruuuuuuuuunchhhh!*
Alice was literally fucked. It was her very first time. And she would never forget the atrocious experience. Not in a trillion-billion years. The blunt edge of the weapon pounded her pussy, obliterating the ill-fated orifice. Her folds rippled at the intrusion, and the thief bolted upright. Her pupils withdrew into her skull. The corners of her gaping maw spasmed, twitched, all herky-jerky, as snot trailed from her flared nostrils. Indeed, to say that the impact had robbed her of her dear virginity would be the grossest understatement. Her maidenhood was booted on a one-way trip to kingdom come. And the honeyed songs of paradise accompanied it. Long, drawn-out, and deafening.
"Giiiiyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh – !"
[…]
"Excellent, Doris," Alex whispered from the shadows of the linen closet.
Hidden among the sacks and towels, he'd avoided detection from the trio of burglars. He observed them from his front row seat, suppressing a chuckle here and there. But, upon seeing his pet rat gnaw into Alice's bouncy badonk and upon hearing the ear-splitting shriek, the boy decided that he had to scurry on back to the attic. Anyway, Doris could take care of herself. She was smart. Vastly more intelligent than these low-lives at least.
Swiftly, he raced out of the closet then into the corridor. Unger lay stunned on the floor, and Alex tramped over the mercenary's stomach, temporarily incapacitating him. Jernigan noticed the kid too. The hacker threw his hockey stick at him like a javelin. However, Alex managed to duck under it. He made his way to the attic door, hurried inside, and locked it behind him. No time to lose, he thought.
Those bozos would catch up sooner or later.
So, after stuffing the Axus microchip into his pocket, he crawled into the dumbwaiter, pushed a button on its control panel, and shut the door. He descended to the basement. And, as he did, he could pick up the faint sound of a door being busted down, followed by footsteps far above him.
Once in the basement, Alex set to work again, arranging one last surprise. He found a box of tools, and – using a screwdriver from there – he detached the wooden floor-piece of the dumbwaiter. When that was complete, he switched off the interior lighting. He closed the door once more, then further secured it with nails and hammer, ensuring that no one would be able to pry it open without the proper implements. Afterwards, he took a toy robot from a trunk of old keepsakes and set it some feet away from the dumbwaiter's control panel. He wished this miniature instrument of doom good luck, activated it, and swelled with joy as the battery-operated automaton trudged forward, swaying its mechanical arms.
"Yikety-yikes," he beamed.
He wouldn't want to be the ignoramus who falls for this trap!
