Part 6 - “It Begins”

Chapter 12

A couple of days went by, little or nothing happening.  I watched my monitors.  I watched Mary come and go according to her regular schedule.  I exercised on my hamster wheel.

Two things happened during those two days.  I got really good at running on the hamster wheel.  Mary had moved into the guest house.

The hamster wheel, if you’re familiar with such things, has this horizontal bar running the width of its center.  By holding onto this while I ran, I was able to get up to and maintain a pretty good pace.  So the first thing that happened was that I was starting to get some appreciable exercise.

The second thing that happened was less remarkable.  It was less so because Mary had no other place to sleep than the guest house.  The interior of our house had been gutted.  All of the furniture was stacked in the garage.  All of the carpet had been rolled up and stored there.  All of the house’s fine oak, teak, cedar and walnut paneling had been stored there as well.  So unless Mary had a penchant for sleeping on floor joists, which she didn’t, she didn’t have much of a choice but to move into the guest house.

Four cameras followed her activity there, as well.  So I got to watch her comings and goings as I always did.

I also got more advance warning when she started for my room in the basement.

Having to cross the courtyard and then come down into the basement by the basement’s exterior stairs, I was able to follow her progress all the way.

In this, I mean, there would be no more surprise barge-ins, unless I was asleep.  Which I never was when she arrived home.  Some intuitive sense had me awake the moment her car pulled into our long driveway.  Don’t ask me for specifics.  Something in the way the camera views flicked to the outside view of the end of our driveway when her car pulled into it.

In any case, when I say “surprise barge-ins”, I mean as opposed to Mary deciding at any possible second to get up and come downstairs to look in on me.  When this was a threat, I could never spend any real time doing anything while she was at home.  Now, she had to go all the way around in back of the house - either by driving around in back of it when she got home, or walking across the courtyard from the guest house when she was at home - to come down and peek in at me.

Or as often happened, come in and start quizzing me.

I hadn’t written about these latter events because usually, I was always so flustered after them, that I couldn’t get them right enough in my mind to remember to note them down.

Which reminds me.  In addition to the few things Mary did allow me, she had given me a notepad and a package of pencils, a day or two after she had dropped me into this habitat.

I don’t know.  Maybe she expected I would write music or something (which I was fairly talented in doing) or sit and scribble pictures all day.  Or start a diary.  Which this telling is.

Knowing her, it was because she hoped I would indeed write a diary.  It would fit her pertinacity for sadism and her idea of a practical joke.  After she killed me (which I had no doubt she would), she could sit for hours after, reading my ramblings about her nastiness toward me and get a huge kick out of it.

Either way, I always did my writing while she was at work, keeping the diary hidden after she got home.  With her now living in the guest house, however, I was able to be bolder about when I chose to write.  Given greater warning of her pending arrivals, I had more time to hide my notepad, when she started for the outside stairs.

And then, day 3 arrived.

Chapter 13

A Bechtel truck arrived.  It was a four-door pickup.  Four men in engineer’s garb got out of it and went into the house.  Not long after that, another vehicle from Bechtel arrived.  Eight men, dressed in work attire, filed out of this.  Once in the house, they started aimlessly (seemingly) to wander around.

But then, not long after their arrival, a massive flatbed tractor trailer turned into our driveway.

Following this, and after the tractor trailer truck had made it to our courtyard, two of the engineer types came out along with six of the workmen, and along with the driver, they began to untarp what the truck was carrying.

It was yards and yards of gleaming stainless steel pipe.

Shortly after this was untarped, another - much smaller - truck arrived, which bore a forklift on a roll-back bed.  Once the forklift was unloaded, the workmen began unloading the pipe from the flatbed.

So they had been drawing pipe into the plans that day.  Why, however, and why this much pipe was being delivered, was still very much a mystery.

The flatbed truck got turned around in the courtyard and was soon making its way back up the driveway.

Then, another truck arrived!

This truck was obviously some kind of rigger truck.

Bearing some kind of big machine on its bed, with two huge utility boxes on either side of the bed, the truck was an International behemoth with a Lockheed Martin logo painted on its side.

Shortly after its arrival, another truck arrived - this one bearing a Johnson Controls logo.  Another crew-cab pickup.  Two engineering types got out of this.

And following this, organized chaos broke loose, the eight Bechtel workmen swarming over the pipe like an army of industrious ants.

“Just what the fuck is Mary doing?” I said aloud, staring at my camera views with a growing sense of apprehension.

I couldn’t put my finger on how I knew, but somehow I knew that all of this had something to do with me.

What then began to unfold, found me only increasingly puzzled, and uneasy, but not in the least more enlightened.

Chapter 14

The big machine on the back of the Lockheed Martin rigger truck, I soon learned, was for cutting and bending the stainless steel pipe.

The engineers, setting up a table close to the work, directing the workmen, supervised piece after piece of the pipe carried to the machine on the back of the International, and then oversaw its cutting or bending, taking measurements, then finally giving their approval for the length of pipe to be taken into the house.

I followed the work all day.

The workmen laid the pipe under the floor joists, linking each piece seamlessly together with welding torches and meticulous grinding after.  In this fashion, the laid a veritable lattice work of gleaming stainless steel pipe all through the whole ground floor of our house.

Following that, they started up the walls with the pipe.  Bending each segment of pipe to perfect 45-degree elbows, they attached the pipes in the walls to the ones they had already installed in the floor.

By the time the day had ended, they had run out of pipe, but apparently had plans for piping the floors of the second floor as well - they leaving open joints of pipe covered with banded oilcloth.

The next morning, another load of pipe arrived, and the workmen started again.  By the end of that day, they had all of the second floor piped and were starting up the walls to the third floor before running out of pipe again.

This was still very confusing.  I couldn’t for the life of me figure of what the pipe was for.  But what was even more bewildering, the pipes - for first - didn’t hook up to any water sources, or to the boiler downstairs.  The pipes couldn’t be for water or heating then.  Moreover, the pipes hadn’t been laid in any discernible pattern.  Well, they did, but not in any way that I could make sense of.

The pipes followed the courses of our hallways.  They crossed rooms at odd angles.  They terminated by where Mary’s bed was.  Terminated in the bathroom at the sink and just outside of our shower.

Just what could it all be for?

In any case, this went on for six more days, the workmen even working through a Saturday and Sunday.

In the mean time, I saw Mary twice a day as usual, her giving my daily allotment of water and fresh goop.  But no answers.

Finally, on the seventh day, the guys from Lockheed Martin and Bechtel left after doing some touchup polishing and last-minute measurements.  When they had finished, they had piped all four floors of our house, and all up through all of our house’s walls.

And that was when the Johnson Controls men started their work, and Mary brought home a large, aluminum case, whose contents started making all of the pipes to make a  dreadful kind of sense.

Chapter 15

“Get in it.”

When Mary came down that night, she had brought the aluminum case.  Setting it on the floor, she stooped and opened it, taking out what looked like a largish block of some kind of neoprene.

After taking it out of the case and setting it up onto the bench adjacent to my habitat, she had taken me out and set me on the bench next to it.

First, I marveled at the block.

It was about a foot in length, about six inches wide and about eight inches deep.  It was a solid neoprene block sunk into a stainless steel housing.  But what was most fascinating about it of all, was that the top of the block, in its neoprene surface, was a man-shaped indentation!

My marveling however, soon turned into realization, however, and I took a step backwards.

“I said get in it.”

I looked up, met Mary’s eyes.  They were hard and cold, pure threat glimmering hatefully in their hard depths.

I swallowed, lowered my eyes back to the block, then moved towards it.  Then climbed up onto it.

As soon as I did, the lump in my throat got thicker.  In place of where my arms and legs were supposed to lay, were instead holes for these parts of my anatomy to be thrust down into.

At the sight of this, I balked again.

And that was when Mary’s hand slapped the bench.

Hard.

“Do not make me tell you again.”

My guts turning to ice, I did as I was told.

I knew what this was for.  It was part of the pipe system Mary was having installed in the house.  I didn’t know exactly how it fit in yet, but knew it was somehow a part of it.

Moving into the man-shaped indentation, I sat down in it and the inserted my feet into the holes meant for my legs.  I then slid my legs all the way in.

I felt the bottoms of my feet come into contact with the neoprene’s foamy surface.  What was more, when my knees went under the neoprene’s surface, I realized at once I would not be able to get them back out again, short of moving my buttocks backwards.

“Now your arms.”

I could only nod dumbly up at my giant wife and comply.

Once my arms were fully inserted, I found myself lying all the way down in the man-shape impressed in the neoprene, a cupping formation pushing up under my palms.

Mary nodded then took a remote out of her pocket.  Thumbing a switch on it with her beautiful thumbnail, I felt the neoprene grow slightly warm, and then contract slightly around my arms and legs.

It grew only snug, however, and not tight.  Nevertheless, only snug, I knew I was nonetheless trapped in the neoprene!

Following this, I heard the distinct and all-too-recognizable sound of my wife kicking her shoes off onto the floor - her dropping the four inches she always did when she took off the stilettos.  Then without a word, she gabbed up my block, and using both hands, transferred the block and me to the floor.

For the first time since all this insanity began, I was seeing my wife for the true giantess that she was.  Standing at just under six feet, my wife was as huge as a building to me, standing over me like a goddess.

And then she stepped up onto the block.

Chapter 16

My face and my whole chest, along with both of my shoulders, were immediately crushed down upon by the full brunt of her weight.  The sole of her stocking-clad foot, gave some at first, but then molded down over my hapless form with the incomprehensibly cruel force of something akin to hot lead - just as heavy and just as solid, made all the more cruel in this instance by the skin-gnawing weave of her stocking and the weave of dermal swirls nature had given the bottom of her foot.

Only barely able to perceive the barest sliver of light to my right, and having seen her toes swoop in for the crushing stomp, I knew I was under the ball of her foot.

And then a severe wheezing sound was forced up out of my mouth against her lead-hard skin, her weight having transformed in an instant from mere crushing, to outright squashing!

Realizing at once what had happened, I was able to make only the weakest “Hurk!” sound in protest.  Due in large part because my face was now completely sealed under her foot, but also because my chest had been devastatingly compressed when her weight had increased.  What had happened, I knew, was that she had picked up her other foot - and thereby had put all of her weight on this foot in so doing.

My guess was rewarded an instant later.  Her other foot came to press upon my stomach and thighs - she having picked up her other foot to stand on me with both of her feet.

I had no way to beg or to plead.  Or for that matter, to say anything at all.  My face was just too firmly crushed up into the bottom of her foot.  This was of course compounded by the fact that her great weight was denying me my ability to draw in the breath necessary for speech, her weight still holding my chest cruelly compressed.

And that was when her weight began to grind.

I felt the metatarsal bones and ligaments up in her pop, while I simultaneously felt the devastating pressure start to increase, it focusing forward.  My lips crunched against my teeth, felt their instant swelling against the cruel weave of her stocking, against the even crueler weave of her skin’s swirls.  The balls of her feet transformed in that moment from lead, straight into iron.  I could see nothing, feel nothing but the iron hard soles of her feet start to crush the life right out of me.  And the coppery wash of copious amounts of blood in my mouth from my ruined lips.

Suddenly, the weight on my face started to relent.  Then, my lips doing their painful damnedest to go with her stocking, I watched her foot rise into the air.  When it did, I caught a glimpse of her face up from under the outside of her foot.

I wished that I hadn’t.

It was cold, calculating and cruel - and utterly without a single thread of redeeming emotion.

“...Mary!” I managed.  The sound came out more like “Rary” because of my lips.  But whatever the sound, it made utterly no difference.

Her foot came back down.  This time, when she stepped onto me with it, she did it with a bone-jarring thud!  With the poised ball of her foot!

My whole face and chest exploded with pain.  My eyes went up like fireworks - me seeing a blooming starburst of silver light upon a chaotic explosion of red and white.

Then, I felt something crunch in my face against her cruelly hard skin.  My nose, went my panicked thoughts.

Then, the foot on my legs lifted; I would have screamed in a whole new agony, the weight on my face increasing even beyond the energy of the stomp, then my lower parts were stomped just as cruelly!

Then, up rose her foot from my face.  Dazedly, my mind swimming in panic as I watched her foot rise, I realized I was looking at a spot of blood on the bottom of her foot.

And then SMASH!  Her foot returned for its second devastating stomp!

I nearly blacked out!

I would have, too, save for the jolt of crushing pain which then came to my legs again - this following the weight doing its horrible increase again on my face and other upper parts!

And then, up came her foot from my face again.

SMASH!

Then my legs again!

SMASH!

Then my face again!

SMASH!

My wife has very lovely feet.  Long, graceful arches, nicely broad heels with comely round shapes, very shapely balls of the feet and toes, her arches cutting those lovely lines of tendons whenever they were flexed...

But under them.  Like this?!  God, no beauty could circumscribe just how utterly devastating it was to be trampled on by them like this!

And that was precisely what Mary was doing to me!  She was TRAMPLING on me!

I don’t know for how long it went on.  All I knew was the continual rises, followed by the devastating returns of her merciless soles.  Before it had ended, long before, I knew I had been reduced to a bleating animal - screaming and pleading up to her in long, syllable-less cries for deliverance from her ruthlessly pounding soles.  But cries which went utterly unheeded.  Cries that fell on deaf ears entirely.  Cries of the condemned man pleading with the devil himself, to be delivered from this trampling Hell.

When it was finally over, and Mary was dropping me from the block back into my pen, I felt gratitude like no other my life had ever before been rewarded.

During the release, I was dimly aware of the neoprene expanding to let my extremities slide freely out.  I was dimly aware of how much my face was burning and needing to get it to a mirror to see what damage had been done.  But most of all, I was aware that the trampling was over - that her stomping feet were finally done.  And that I had somehow survived.

Then I was aware of her words.

“Get used to it, you lecherous little fuck.  That is going to be your life from now on.”

And then I was aware of the door slamming behind her.  And that she was gone.

And then I was gone, passed out in the bloody print of my face pressed down into the cotton of my enclosure.