Submerge on Gromet's Plaza Archive

The Institute

Thu, 29 Aug 2024 00:00:00 +0000

Chapter 1: The New Job

A large stone room with stone walls and vaulted ceilings. In it, a group of women, all but one dressed in black. They are wearing tight, shiny clothing - rubber? - gas masks, corsets. Not a single square inch of skin is visible. One is limp, barely conscious, several tubes and wires coming from her head and groin area. Her feet, clad in ballet heel boots, are dragging on the ground. The others are carrying her. The last woman follows, wearing red latex. Her face is blank, the only visible feature a zipper covering her mouth. She takes notes on a clipboard.

A Water Illusion?

Sat, 20 Jul 2019 00:00:00 +0000

My life partner, Angie, pointed it out to me; I would have missed it, because it was in part of the paper I do not read. “What do you reckon to this?” she said as she handed the paper to me and tapped the page in the area she thought might be of interest. “You are always saying you a looking for a challenge.” I focused on the page I had been handed and quickly found the item Angie was bringing to my attention. The small ad read, ‘John Franklin challenges any aspiring escapologists to escape from the ‘Death Cage’ in under five minutes. Successful challengers will receive £1000.’ And a contact phone number. Naturally, I was intrigued, so I rang the number and left a message. That evening I received an email in response, which was odd as I had only left my name, phone number and the fact that I was interested in the ‘Death Cage’ challenge. I opened the attached documentation and discovered the nature of the challenge and the safety procedures that were being put in place. The final paragraph seemed a bit odd. It simply stated, ‘If you succeed you get £1000; if you fail you get to experience magic and what your companion has experienced throughout the challenge.’ I showed the pdf to Angie to ask what she reckoned. Her assessment was, “Handcuffs behind your back, 20 seconds, no 30 seconds, because you’ll need to release both hands; neck shackle, another twenty seconds; two sets of leg shackles, 40 seconds and the cage’s padlock another thirty seconds. I make that 2 minutes. Add that on again for being underwater makes 4 minutes; so five minutes sounds do-able. Admittedly, you can only hold your breath for 3 minutes, but they’ll be providing an air-hose, so that shouldn’t be a big deal. I reckon, if you can handle the pressure of doing this for a live audience and this John Franklin character, you should go for it.” Between us we agreed that it was worth taking this challenge to the next stage, which was emailing for further details and contracts. The next evening these details arrived, but I had spent most of the day in the tank in the summer house in the garden practicing getting out of handcuffs behind my back underwater. I had even improvised an arrangement so that it would be more like the planned arrangement for the ‘Death Cage’ The details confirmed the details of the escape and the safety arrangements and the contractual obligations on both me and the John Franklin’s people. Their obligations seemed to be to provide all the equipment required at the appointed time and place, to have all the safety arrangements in place and to provide the payment if I succeed or get me out if I fail. My obligations seemed to be to turn up at the appointed place and time (at their expense), try my best to succeed at the challenge and to bring a companion with me to see fair play. There were two things that gave me slight concern; the first was they said they would be offering more challenge on the day, for more reward; and the second was they insisted I name my companion and that they sign the contract with me. The contract made clear that the extra part to the challenge was entirely optional, I guessed this would allow them to add some element of drama into the stunt; not only would I succeed or not, but would I be up for the extra challenge? I assumed the bit about naming my companion was so that they could prepare the extra paperwork, but it turned out to be more than that. After careful consideration, we signed contracts and began negotiations about times and places. We even researched who John Franklin was; it turned out that he was a small-time magician who had landed himself a series of six half hour programs and hoped to use these as stepping stones in his magical career, but he was not being entirely selfish, because he was allocating a small amount of time on each show to a specialist performer to show their stuff. I was soon booked as the specialist performer, with Angie as my companion, for his first recording, which by this stage was six weeks away. Those six weeks were a blur; when I was not working my day job or sleeping, I was in the tank practicing with the specified hand-cuffs and padlocks. The practice was paying off, I had the handcuffs, neck-shackle and leg restraints off in under three and a half minutes and the padlock to the lid of the cage should be no trouble.

The day of the challenge dawned and we travelled to the studios where the stunt was going to be recorded and got there mid-morning; the show was going to be recorded live that evening. The remainder of the morning was spent being introduced to the crew that would be supervising my escape and checking over the equipment. Then John Franklin took us out to lunch. Once the meal was ordered, he asked, “How do you envision this escape of yours going?” Naturally, I had expected some question along those lines, so I had an answer. “I’ve practiced so that I can do it in under four minutes, but as I can see the clock from inside the tank, I’ll add to the drama, by taking my time I can be out a few seconds before the five minutes is up.” “I thought you’d say something like that, which is why we added the extra challenge option to the contract. What we want is a genuine ‘Will they make it?’ situation, rather than a ‘Can they time it right?’ one.” “I, sort of, expected that was the reasoning, but if I don’t like the extra challenge aspect, I know I don’t have to accept.” “Exactly,” he confirmed. “The paperwork says that with extra challenge comes extra reward; so make your offer and we’ll consider it.” I deliberately included Angie, because she has a better idea of what I can and cannot do, especially on top of all I was already prepared for, and also because I know she worries and it makes her feel better to have her say. “Firstly, let me say you don’t have to make a decision immediately,” he began. “We’ll show you the extra equipment this afternoon and you announce what you decide at show time.” “That’s fair.” It would have been an instant ‘No!’ if I did not get to check the equipment or I was being pressed for an instant decision. “The extra challenge comes in three parts; part one is a lid on the tank, part two is your lovely companion, Angie,” he smiled at her, “shackled to the lid on the tank and part three would be withdrawal of the air hose partway through. Part one would gain you an extra thirty seconds of performance time. Part two would gain you an extra minute, because you’d need to release Angie before you could get out. And for item three we would have to work out when to remove the hose, but on the plus side, we would supply oxygen enriched air to compensate for you not being able to hyperventilate beforehand.” “So, those are the extra challenges. And the rewards?” “Well, if you accept any part of the extras we’ll pay you your original £1000 and £1000 per part you accept, plus another grand if you accept all three and we’ll double it if you succeed. So you could make as much as 10000.” “Ok, so the rewards are not insubstantial.” At this point, his mobile phone went off. He looked apologetic, but still checked it. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. A friend has arrived, late as usual, and I’ve got to teach her how to act when I pass the buzzsaw through her middle.” He rose from the table and we began to rise to follow him. “No, don’t worry, you don’t need to come; I’ll make sure your meal is paid for, while I get something to take away and I’ll get someone to send a taxi to get you back to the studio. Enjoy your meal and I’m sure you have lots to discuss.” Then he caught my eye and he said, “And remember if you fail, you’ll experience magic and what your lovely companion has experienced throughout the escape.” Immediately and without a backward glance he rushed to do what he had to do and was lost from sight. I was slightly stunned, by his last remark; I certainly was not planning on failing, possibly not succeeding in time, but not failing; and reminding one of the possibility is not what one professional does to another professional. The food arrived and we ate, but it did not get the attention it probably deserved, because we were talking about the extra challenges. To my surprise, Angie seemed in favour of the lid on the tank, because the extra time it would take was less than the extra time it gave. She even seemed to be neutral about the removal of the air hose, but most resistant to being attached to the lid of the tank, which I put down to her innate shyness, rather than any concern that I might not be able to release her in order to release myself. The entire result of our talk was we would have to inspect the extra stuff before we could make a decision. At the end of the meal we left and found a taxi waiting, which got us back to the studio about the same time the crew got back from their canteen lunch. They showed us the lid for the tank, which hinged and would be held down by three padlocks, with holes in so that the padlocks could be reached. Then they showed us how the air hose withdrawal would work; there was a remote release mechanism between the actual hose and the mouthpiece which with the addition of the pumped air would produce a dramatic flurry of extra bubbles when it broke free. And finally they showed us the bars mounted on the ends of the tank that Angie could be shackled to; she would be attached to the ends of the bars away from the access holes in the tank lid, but cuffs can easily be slid along bars allowing access through the access hole for the side padlocks (hence Houdini’s remark that sometimes the challenge is keeping the restraints on until the escape starts). When we had the privacy we agreed that the lid would be a great addition and the air hose thing would be OK, as it added drama, as long as they did not do it more than two minutes before the end. Angie was most resistant to being an extra obstacle in my release; eventually she admitted she worried when I was involved in an escape and she coped by not watching and having faith in my abilities, but this would force her to confront the process of me escaping, which she knew I delayed from suspense purposes. It took me a while, but I convinced her that being more involved was the worth the extra four thousand it would gain us; I even promised her a weekend away together with part of the extra money. Once we had decided, I went to find John Franklin to relay our decision to take on the entire extra challenge. I found him talking to a very shaken-looking woman about his age (mid-twenties), who judging by her mascara had been crying a lot. I was about to convey what we had decided, when he said, “Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know until the show, but let Ben know so he can make sure the gear is ready, then get to costume and make up so that you and Angie look the part.” It took me about ten minutes to find Ben, the floor manager, and let him know what equipment would be needed. He also gave me directions on how to get to the costume department. I went back to our dressing room and we went to costume. Costume for me was simple; a swim suit in an intense blue with a couple of black lines and a fluffy white bathrobe. Costuming Angie was not anywhere near as simple; they wanted a sexy damsel-in-distress look, but Angie’s natural modesty complicated this, along with the requirement that wrists and ankles should be free of clothes so that it was clear that she was restrained and not to get in the way of my efforts to release her. In the end, she was outfitted with a white calf-length dress with a deep neckline, short sleeves and a slit up to mid-thigh, under this was a tight body-suit, which did wonders for her waist and cleavage and finally a pair of white strappy mid-height heels. She was accessorised with a necklace of what looked like pearls and matching earrings. Then it was on to make-up, where the bare minimum was done with me; foundation, eyeliner and a whole can of hair-lacquer to hold my short hair in place. Angie got the works; her fingernails and toenails were painted, fake tan was applied to all visible areas of skin, her face was made-up to match the sexy damsel-in-distress image they seemed to have in mind for Angie, much emphasis on eyes and lips and then they added more curl to her already curly hair, primarily to make sure it did not end up with it in the way. As we were leaving for a light canteen snack before the show, the head make-up lady, told Angie not to cry, because her the eye make-up would instantly turn her into a panda. The period before the show was uneventful, although I did notice some admiring glances for Angie, which I did not mention, in case it would make her reconsider her part in the stunt. At the appointed time, we were called to the wings and watched John Franklin perform the buzzsaw illusion. The woman I had seen earlier was lain on the travelling table, on top of a piece of wood that had just been sawn to show the reality of the buzzsaw, and the table travelled under the saw with the blade splitting the wood under her and appearing to pass through her bared midriff. She seemed a lot less upset than earlier, but she still eyed the rotating blade with a nervousness, which I wondered whether showed how good an actor she was or embodied a genuine uncertainty as to the outcome of having it appear to pass through her. Naturally she survived her ordeal, but seemed awed by what had happened and relieved it was over. Now it was our turn. John Franklin introduced us as people he had known for a while (which was true if five minutes in a restaurant counted). We went on and he explained the basic concept of the escape. “We suggested some additions to this escape, did you decide to go with then?” he asked. Noting that he was being vague, I paused, to give the editors a chance to ramp up the tension, before being vague right back. “Yes, we decided that we’d go with all of them, but Angie isn’t particularly happy about her part.” “Quite understandable; being an obstacle in your partner’s escape would make anyone nervous,” he commented. Then we got down to the business at hand, while John Franklin provided commentary to cover what would be, to the observer, the dull part of the procedure. First I knelt on the grid that was the base of the cage and clamps were placed over my calves and ankles held in place with padlocks, then I bent down and a collar was put round my neck and padlocked to a short chain attached to the floor of the cage. The sides of the cage were folded up and pinned in place and the top of the cage slotted into place, hinged down and the padlock put in place. The final part of me being locked into the death cage was me putting my wrists near the lid and Ben closing the handcuffs round my wrists with the chain between over the central bar of the cage’s lid, thus holding my wrists up from my back and straining my shoulders a bit. In this cramped and uncomfortable position, I was fed the air hose while two bars were attached to the cage. Four large men took an end of a bar each and lifted the entire assembly and a young lady took charge of my air supply. As soon as I was over the tank I gave a thumbs up to indicate I was ok and ready to proceed. Carefully the men lowered me into the water, while the young lady stage hand clipped the hose into position on the hinge side of the tank. The water was icy cold, which was good, because the body’s natural reaction is to restrict blood supply to the peripheral parts of the body and so preserving more oxygen for fuelling the core bodily functions, effective lowering your metabolism; the downside being that your hands go numb before too long, which is not ideal if you require them to be dexterous and sensitive. As the air began to pump with the sweet tang of added oxygen I looked up to check I could still see the clock; I could, so I made another thumbs up gesture to show I was happy to continue. The final stages of the preparations I did not see, because my view was confined to looking through the cage and the clear Plexiglas walls of the tank at the studio floor and the legs of the crew doing their jobs. First came the rush of additional cold as they poured two buckets of additional water into the tank to convince the audience I was truly submerged, this was accompanied by some muted thuds as the other two crewmen fitted and closed the tank’s lid, then the air-hose lady attached the padlocks to hold it down. More water-muffled knocks and bangs followed telling me that Angie was being shackled to the bars on top of the tank. I spent this time to remember my planned sequence of escape and generally calm my nerves, by breathing deeply to increase the oxygen in my system. A tap on the end of the tank told me that all was ready and as I wanted to get on with it I made the agreed double thumbs up to show I was ready. I glimpsed Ben’s face and then his hand holding out three fingers; the countdown had begun and I was already moving my lockpicking tool from where I had it palmed to the tips of my fingers. One of Ben’s fingers folded away, then another and finally the entire hand was taken out of my sight; the escape had begun. To aid my concentration I closed my eyes and took a moment to concentrate on the planned sequence of the escape, then I began the dramatic thrashing about; given my constrained position it was not much, but is served to cover the fact I was using the pick to release the handcuffs. Ten seconds can seem like an eternity, but it took me that long to find the key hole in my cuff, partly because Ben had put the cuffs on my wrists so that the hole I was looking for was on the wrong side. A quick check confirmed it would be easier to transfer the pick and release the other wrist first so that’s what I did. With one cuff released, I opened my eyes to check the time on the clock, while I transferred the pick back to the now uncuffed hand; forty-three seconds; where has all that time gone, I am usually out of the first cuff in about twenty five seconds. I put it down to the minor problem with the orientation of the cuff and possibly nerves, and took another deep breathe from the air hose. I closed my eyes again and tackled the other cuff. With the picking hand free it is not to long before the second hand is free. Another time check, One minute nineteen seconds; I think I must have missed something, but I still had a little over five minutes for eight padlocks and four more sets of cuffs, but now I could work with both hands and the strain between my shoulder blades had eased. I moved to start on the neck shackle, but noticed a camera through the glass of the tank and paused to give a smile, which I hoped said, ‘I am doing ok, but not as ok as I had hoped,’ and a brief thumbs up, before continuing to release myself from the bottom of the cage. I grabbed the padlock holding the neck shackle to the chain in my left hand and fitted the pick into the keyhole. A few jiggles and it was open but I bumped my elbow on the side of the tank and accidentally snapped it back shut. Rats! A little more circumspectly, I released the neck padlock again. The original plan had been to remove the collar once it was released, despite this seeming to be unnecessary, but it would fill time to make the escape seem more life and death at the end without me floating about doing nothing. I decided with the two mistakes that had already been made that it would be a waste of time, so I just skooched back a bit to get easier access to the last four padlocks holding me to the cage. While I reached for the first of these I looked at the time again. Two minutes and thirteen seconds! I knew I had lost a bit of time but that seemed a lot. Was I missing something? Was there too much added oxygen? I’d heard that an excess of added oxygen can impair your faculties, like being drunk, but surely they would not do that. ‘Concentrate!’ I told myself. I went to work on the padlocks holding my legs to floor of the cage. I soon had both my calves free and the shackles open so I could sit back even further to make it easier to reach the ankle shackles. I decided on another time check in the hope that I could calm myself a bit by seeing that I had made back some of the time I had lost. As I looked up the clock ticked over to three minutes; good, but not great, I had not lost any further time, but not gained any either. As I leaned back and worked on my ankle restraints, I closed my eyes once more. Another bump of an elbow on the side of the cage reminded me that I should be more careful to avoid needing to pick these locks twice. The first padlock fell away, so onto the second, but where was it? A feel about told me that in my thrashing about it had changed position and was jammed under my buttock. I changed position and repositioned the lock so that I could pick it. Once I had it in my grasp it fell away with a few deft movements of the pick I still had in my hand. ‘Stay calm!’ only four locks on the lids and the cuffs restraining Angie to go. Another look at the time, which I was rapidly feeling was becoming the enemy. Three minutes fifty-two seconds! ‘Surely it can’t have taken that long.’ I felt the edge of panic, so I paused to just breathe the enriched air which I knew I would be losing in another minute. I turned on my side and felt the hinge of the neck shackle catch on one of the bars of the cage; maybe not removing it had been a bad idea after all. I looked towards the audience, feeling certain that they could see me; I could not see them, or even the cameras, because it seemed my movements had splashed water through the holes in the lid and water was running down the outside of the tank. I looked up and saw that the skirt of Angie’s dress was soaked and the added weight had pulled on the rest it opening up the slit to show more leg than she would be comfortable with. ‘I bet she looks good,’ I thought. ‘Don’t get distracted!’ I admonished myself, ‘Focus!’ My hand found the padlock securing the cage shut and it was soon open and removed to join the other five padlocks on the tank floor. Another change of position and I could reach through the access hole in the lid of the tank between Angie’s ankles. Reaching through, I snagged the lock and positioned it so I could quickly have it undone once I had changed hands. As I changed hands the neck shackle once again bumped against the cage’s bars, causing a small loss of precious momentum. Nonetheless, I reached through and the lock fell open at my touch and I unhooked it and tossed it away. I took another look at the timer to find out how soon I was going to lose my air supply; I did not want to be surprised by the sudden flurry of bubbles when the air hose broke away at the agreed time of five minutes and three seconds. The clock showed four minutes and fifty-five. While I reached for the second lid padlock I counted in my head to be ready; I had reached six when I felt the change in the texture of the water and shortly after a light thump on my back as the air-hose snaked its way out of the tank. I spat out the now useless mouth piece and grimaced for the camera I knew would be watching for a reaction. I had hoped to already be releasing Angie at this point. The second padlock was soon thrown away and I was reaching for the third; the one between Angie’s restrained wrists. This was positioned and unlocked in a matter of another ten seconds. Time was getting tight. I had just over a minute to release four cuffs and get out of the tank. I considered changing the plan again; the fine print said I had to release Angie’s wrists before her ankles, so she could not get off the tank lid and open it for me before she was properly released. I was thinking about unlocking her ankles first and taking whatever penalty was due, but Angie already had slid one wrist to where I could get to it. I decided that rather than cause Angie more concern by changing the plan, I would have to proceed as planned. Angie was shaking with nerves which made the fiddly job of releasing the first cuff a little trickier, but it was soon done and another wrist presented. While I was liberating Angie’s other wrist, I saw something happening out of the corner of my eye. Between us and the cameras John Franklin and Ben were holding up a deep red cloth. Even before I had finished the cuff I was working on I had a last glimpse of the timer; it showed six minute and two seconds. Then as the cuff opened, the cloth settled over the tank; I was now in darkness. I mentally cursed John Franklin and crew for cheating as I turned inside the cage to release Angie’s ankles which I knew she would have in position for me, despite the added distraction. I reached through and instantly found the cuff on her left ankle. I began to hear, muffled by the water the beeps that indicated the last ten seconds. Then I dropped my pick; the coldness of the water had taken its toll at last. As I heard the electronic beeps countdown the final seconds of the challenge, I was groping for the dropped picking-tool. I was resigned to failing the challenge, but there would be very little to do to rescue me, just finish releasing Angie’s legs and open the lids. I would have acquitted myself well and if it had not been for several avoidable mistakes I could well have succeeded. The final beep seemed so much louder than the previous nine. I realised my head had gone swimmy for a moment. Things were different from what they were a moment ago; I was out of the water, but still under the cloth. Instinct told me that I was now on the lid of the tank and that I should get off. I rolled off onto the floor in the direction of the audience; there was a hush that seemed to ask, ‘What is going to happen now?’ I struggled from the folds of the cloth to see what was going on. And was greeted with a small cheer, which suddenly stopped as they noticed something that I had not yet. I turned and looked at the tank, expecting to see both lids open, but they were both shut. How had I got out without opening the lids? Then I noticed the lids were once again padlocked. Then the key thing I had missed hit me; inside the cage in the tank full of water was Angie, shackled exactly as I had been. “Get her out of there!” I yelled, but the crew were already rushing toward the tank, with keys and lifting bars in hand. I felt the urge to rush forward and help, but realised that I would only be in the way; I felt so helpless. Angie was desperately trying to move to release herself, but all these constrained movements contrived to do was cause her hair and skirt to float about her. As the padlocks holding the lid of the tank were released, I was hoping Angie had not breathed in any water when she unexpectedly found herself underwater. I hoped she was not drowning while I watched totally impotent to help her in any way. Much to my relief, the lid slammed open and the four men who had lowered me into that tank of cold water, began to attach the bars to the lid of the cage. At this point I suddenly wished that the lid was locked, because if it was loose the whole cage would jam in the tank and delay the time when my Angie would be able to breathe again. I took half a step toward the tank, thinking I would check, but then John Franklin took hold of me and said, “There’s nothing you can do, rely on them to do their jobs and don’t interfere.” It took a huge effort of will to take that totally correct advice. When the men had hoisted the cage from the tank, I took what I realised was the first breathe since my yell, my head seemed to have a dull ache. As the cage touched the floor, John Franklin let go of my arm and I rushed to see that Angie was alright. She was breathing heavily with her hair plastered to her face and the skirt clinging to her legs. It took the crew nearly a minute to release Angie and she stumbled into my arms; during this time I took a little time to bless the foresight of the costume department for making Angie wear the body suit under the dress or she would have been rather more exposed than she thought. The air hose lady came up with two white fluffy dressing gowns and we were bustled off stage.

Once in our dressing room, I had time to consider what had occurred. While I felt my failure to escape in the allotted time was my fault, Angie ending up lock and shackled in the cage underwater was entirely down to John Franklin and his team and all the worse for not let us know it was a possible scenario. I was becoming angry, but could not think what to do about it. Eventually, getting dry and changing into our own clothes became the priority. Finally I asked Angie, “What happened?” “I don’t quite know. I saw you drop the pick in the dim light under the cloth they flung over us as the beeping from the timer started, I was about to reach forward and put it in your hand, when just before the final beep, I took a very deep breath and was suddenly in the water with my neck and shins shackled to the base of the cage. I’ve never been so frightened. At least I had the presence of mind to hold my breath until they rescued me; I never realised it was so hard.” “Me?” I said, “I’ve never felt so helpless; wanting to help you, but being totally unable to, in fact if I had got any closer I would probably have delayed them getting you out, which feels doubly helpless.” “That’s kind of how I feel, every time you are doing any remotely dangerous escape. You know, trying to help would probably worse than standing back and hoping.” “I guess that’s what Franklin meant when he said something about me feeling what you feel while I escape. And if you believe in magic that swimmy feeling in my head when it happen must have been it. I guess we were kind of warned, but very obliquely. He’d better have a good explanation or I’ll not be answerable for my actions. Make that a very, verrrry good explanation.” We sat and wondered if we could get a cup of tea, while the adrenalin subsided. About ten minutes later. John Franklin knock on the door and entered. Before he could open his mouth, I said, “This had better be good, because we are not happy and if we don’t leave happy, we’ll be suing you for breach of contract for as much as we can get.” His smile faltered for maybe half a second, while considered what line would best keep him and his reputation from being dragging through the mud. “What a performance! You certainly earned your ten grand.” For a moment, I wondered what he was talking about, so I asked aggressively. “You were marvellous,” he said. “I auditioned some professionals, but they had nothing on you. They were too smooth to make the illusion look credible. But you with the couple of fumbles made it look truly death-defying and you were incredibly fast; if we hadn’t tweaked the timer to run fifty percent faster, you’d have been out long before the time limit and the magic couldn’t have happened.” For a moment part of my brain did the maths. I had got to the point I had got to in a few seconds over four minutes even with all the extra obstacles and recovering the pick and undoing the last of Angie’s shackles would not have taken the whole of the final minute of the original challenge. I was mentally patting myself on the back, when another part of my mind reminded me that my failure to finish in the allotted time was not my beef with Mr Franklin, but the fact he had tried to drown Angie. “Now I understand why you say I earned the money, but what about what happened next? Angie was completely unprepared for her dunking, possibly near drowning.” I looked at Angie for confirmation and support; she looked sheepish instead. “I wasn’t totally unprepared, but I had been warned I would end up in the water.” “When?” I challenged. “When I rang my cousin John to congratulate him on getting his TV deal. I wished him well and expressed some disappointment that I was failing to let you know how stressful your ‘hobby’ was for me. He suggested that he could help, if I was prepared to seem in danger and arrange that you get involved. He called the illusion ‘The Drowning Pool’; it took me some time to find it, ‘coz there’s a band called the same thing that gets the top hits when I searched on YouTube, but once I understood the concept it seemed like the only way to make you see how bad it makes me feel to be helpless while you escape.” “You’re right!” I admitted, “I’ve been selfish in not considering how you feel when I do my thing. I’ll give it up, if you ask me to.” “Before today I’d have said, ‘Yes, please give up escapology.’ But having been in the spotlight and properly the centre of attention, rather than just someone who came along with you. I have some idea of the buzz you get from it. I want to join you in escaping; you can train me. I’ll probably never be as good as you, but together we could be better than anyone.” John interjected, “You are the best amateur I have ever seen.” “Do you really mean that?” I asked looking at Angie, she nodded. “You know I love you?” She nodded again; she seemed almost at the point of tears. “Angie, will you marry me?” She closed the two paces between us, said, “Of course, I will, Brenda!” and we hugged until we were out of breath.

The Fish Tank

Sat, 20 Jul 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Barry and Lucy have brought a new house at least it’s new to them even though it’s very old and neglected.

“We really have taken something on here, where do we start?”

“I think we need a plan, a written one, let’s have a think about what we want and between us I ’m sure we will come up with something good.”

They both have very radical idea’s, so they agree to do their own plans and compare them afterwards. They both draw out what they want to do, both scrap lots of them before they come up with ideas they are happy with.

Robo-Maid Alice

Wed, 16 May 2018 00:00:00 +0000

story continued from part two

Part Three

She has no idea how long she slumped there in the hallway. Given enough time, the nanites would have completely shut down and she would have been freed. However, Cleaning Bot #17 recognized the problem and ordered a recharging unit to the condo before this could happen. A recharging unit is a small bot, about the size and shape of a car battery. It has a small set of treads on the bottom and two leads on the top with extending wires and connections.

River Monster

Tue, 26 May 2015 00:00:00 +0000

[ This is a work of fiction. The Animal Planet TV channel, the show River Monsters and its host Jeremy Wade have NOTHING to do with these fictional events. The characters are fictitious and not intended to portray any real person. ] Story continued from “Skinny Dipping”

Paula, at 24, was the newest and youngest member of the cable TV channel‘s field team. She was one of the scouts who would check out the locations where reality shows might be filmed. She was given a new assignment, teamed with a Mark Mills, a 28 year old experienced field investigator. Mark was a good team lead overall, but Paula had been told by another scout that he liked to find tasks for his newbie partner that were sometimes embarrassing or scary. Their assignment was conveniently close to her home in Oklahoma. She was especially glad it did not involve tornado chasing as her prior job for the Weather Channel had.

Skinny Dipping

Sat, 16 May 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Julie lived not far from the lake. Like all the lakes in this part of the country it was built to both control flooding and to store water during the long hot summer. The last few years had seen below normal rainfall so the lake was about 12 feet below its “full pool” level. Twelve feet vertically meant that a lot of dry land surrounded the remaining lake. Lakeside houses sat 1/4 mile from the lake, their docks, boats houses and even power boats high and dry in the middle of weed covered fields. There were lots of impromptu roads leading down to the lake, the trails of SUVs and pickups belonging to fishermen with dwindling hopes and high school couples seeking privacy – with high hopes.

Rbrbill's Last Solo

Wed, 09 Apr 2014 00:00:00 +0000

I have reached the point in life when I am really alone. There is a sadness as I consider my future. I am still pretty healthy, though I do require a fair amount of meds to remain that way. My family is gone. I look forward to visiting my son in Washington but even his kids are no longer kids. Maybe I will have a chance to see and hold a Great Grandchild in about ten years but until then not much is happening.

An Old School Friend

Mon, 15 Jul 2013 00:00:00 +0000

My name is Harriet Alders and I am 24 years of age and have a good degree in Marketing and was lucky enough to get a really good job with a top marketing company and after two years I have been chosen as employee of the year and am to be presented with a prize at a very posh do at a large hotel and although I have all my clothes, my dress is wonderful and is a deep blue, all I need now is a pair of bloody shoes to match it hence my walking round the shops on a Thursday morning in pouring down rain getting absolutely soaked and looking like a drowned rat, I am just about to give up when I spot a shoe shop I had not noticed before and went off to see what they had got, only to find that as it was lunchtime it was bloody closed, I could not believe it and in the window were a pair that looked absolutely right if they had my size they would be great.

Jar Girl

Thu, 05 Aug 2010 00:00:00 +0000

In Memory of Diane, my soulmate, who sadly passed away after her fight with cancer and is sadly missed. I hope in leaving this legacy to your readers that they can appreciate how much fun we had in acting out these fantasies.

The audience clapped as Diane and master walked on stage for their performance of a lifetime. Master in his usual black cloak with red lining and Diane in her bright red shiny costume with her fishnet stockings. The costume was low cut at the back and left little to the imagination as it hugged her contours tightly. The crotch pulling the stockings in between her legs so tightly, the seam almost ran up her crack which was already beginning to glisten with her juices. The show had not even begun but yet Diane was tingling all over with anticipation at what was to come. Master stood at one side while she strutted about the stage doing her stretching exercises. Then he placed the plastic jar centre stage ready for her. Diane positioned herself along side the jar and lowered herself down on one leg, the knee bent while her other leg stuck out in front of her.

Exchange

Thu, 25 Feb 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Based on an idea by EricJP65 *** By the end of the twenty second century, humanity had made much progress in its evolution, both ethically and technologically, but there was still one thing that had yet to be overcome…the inevitability of death. And so it was that the earth’s largest kingdom went into mourning for their ruling queen, who had recently passed away of old age. But even amongst the mourning, protocols were followed. The queen’s successor, her daughter Tanya, was quick to follow the duties expected of her. Like the others, she mourned, but only for two days. The remaining five days of mourning would, for her, be spent deep beneath the palace, in chambers that the public never went to, or even knew about. At midnight on the second day, Tanya went to the lowest level of the palace, where a gilded elevator awaited her. Instructing the royal bodyguards not to follow, she entered and descended deep into the earth, going far below the palace and into the catacombs. When the elevator came to a stop, she exited into a giant chamber, where a pair of giant gates stood in silent vigil. Her mother had walked this way. Before dying, her last act was to head down here and go through these doors, a fact that only Tanya and the highest ranking officials knew. But as to what lay beyond those gates, Tanya didn’t know. But she would soon find out. Taking an ornate steel key, she inserted it into the door and turned three times, then pushed it, hearing the tumblers moving and shifting. Then the doors slid open, allowing her passage. Taking a deep breath, she walked inside, the gates closing behind her. Beyond the doors was another hallway. The light here was dim and it was difficult to see. Not only was she walking through the dark, Tanya had no idea what lay down here. She knew that each ruler of her family went through her, but she had never been told what was down here, that she would find out in due course. She cautiously walked onwards, not knowing what to expect. Daughter of the royal crown. Tanya froze. “Who’s there?” Please come forth. The voice was in her head. It wasn’t from anyone or anything Tanya had heard…it didn’t sound human. But there was something in it, a knowing and sense of benevolence that she hadn’t encountered before. Cautious, but curious, she continued on. She reached the end of the hallway. There was a great chamber there, the blue marble walls stretching high to the ceiling. There was no floor here, only a deep pool of dark blue water that seemed to glow. Tanya looked around, searching for the source of the voice. The waters began to bubble. Something rose from them, large and black, its skin as shiny as rubber. It was something monstrous, and not like any animal Tanya had ever heard of. She was so caught by surprise that she felt afraid, and was about to turn and run. Please, do not run. I mean you no harm. Trying to control her rapidly beating heart, Tanya faced the creature. She had a better view of it now. It looked like a giant mound of pulsing, black rubber, as if its muscles were moving rapidly, unable to stop. Large tentacles were stretching out, grasping the walls. “You are the voice?” That is correct. “Who…what are you?” My name is unimportant. I came to your planet centuries ago. Your ancestors discovered me, and built this temple around my form. Despite the monstrous appearance, Tanya found herself getting more interested in this being, rather then fearing it. “Why are you here?” My race believes that the purpose of our lives is to acquire as much wisdom and knowledge as possible. I came to this planet to learn more about it, and determined that the best way to do this was to acquire the knowledge and experience of this planet’s rulers. In that manner, for the past several centuries, I have been receiving and giving the combined knowledge and wisdom of your ancestors. “I don’t understand.” At the end of their lives, your ancestors came here and offered themselves to me. I took their bodies and absorbed their minds, learning all I could about their knowledge, experiences, and wisdom. When their successors came, I took them within myself and transferred the same knowledge and wisdom to them, allowing them to rule with the gathered wisdom of their ancestors. This, in turn, allows them to rule more wisely, and to gain more wisdom from their experiences, which enriches me. “So…I am to be the next successor?” That is correct. It is an arrangement I have maintained with your family, and you will be its newest recipient. “What do I have to do?” A few black tentacles emerged from the water, snaking towards Tanya, rubbing themselves around her legs. The process of transferring knowledge and wisdom requires complete absorption of the individual. I must take you within me. “You’re joking, right?” While I appreciate the value of humor, no, I am not. “So…how exactly does this work?” The process takes five days. Regrettably, it will destroy most types of clothing, including your dress. “Oh.” Realizing what she had to do, Tanya hesitantly started to take off her clothes. Do not be ashamed of your body. It is natural. “In case you haven’t noticed, going around nude isn’t very well accepted in my country.” With a final tug, she pulled off the rest of her clothes, standing naked before the creature, arms instinctively covering her most sensitive areas. It has been programmed into your mind to be ashamed of being nude. “Thanks for pointing that out.” Are you ready for the process to begin? More tentacles began to rise from the creature’s body, moving towards Tanya. “Will it hurt?” There will be no physical pain, but you may experience mild discomfort. “And my mother went through with this?” Yes, as did your father, and their parents before them. Tanya figured that if they could do it, then she could too, especially if the good of her kingdom depended on it. Duty called, sot so peak. “Very well.” She said, nodding. The tentacles moved up and around her body, coiling around her waist, arms, and legs, gently restraining her. They lifted her off the ground, moving her over the water, and over the mass of writing rubber. Below her, a large hole appeared in the black mass, revealing what looked like a throat that led deep into unknown depths. Tanya gulped, but did not resist as the tentacles lowered her towards it. Two larger tentacles came out of the hole and wrapped themselves around her body, tightly restraining her, yet not uncomfortably so. The smaller tentacles released their hold as Tanya was taken down into the throat, which promptly sealed itself behind her. For the next five days, there was silence in the chamber, save from water gently lapping around the massive creature occasionally shuddering. At the end of the last day, the hole opened once again. An exhausted Tanya was hoisted up and out of the creature, her hair wet and slick, sticking to her tired face. The larger tentacles transferred her to the smaller ones, which carried her back to firm ground, where they laid her down, then gently released her, slipping back into the water. Tanya stared up at the ceiling. “Wow.” Her mind felt like it was going to burst from all the information that had been transferred. There were no individual memories per se, but all the experiences and knowledge of her ancestors now resided within her. She felt different…smarter and wiser. It was a thrilling experience. “That was…amazing.” I am pleased you enjoyed it. Tanya’s groin was still pulsing from the tendrils that had inserted themselves inside her, as did her ears, mouth, and nose. But the pleasant afterglow from the experience lingered, giving her a wonderful feeling of euphoria far better then any sex she had ever had. “Can we do that again sometime?” She asked. You are not the first to ask. “Everyone else asked for it?” Correct. My species rewards individuals who submit their knowledge with feelings of extreme pleasure. It is useful in convincing them to return to us again and again. “You sound like a drug dealer.” A fair observation. But think of it more like symbiosis. My kind receives knowledge and wisdom, and in return we give the same back to those who submit to us, as well as pleasure. It is a mutually beneficial relationship. Tanya grinned. “Works for me.” The euphoria you are experiencing will last for one week, upon which it will fade. If you wish, we can do this again once every year, to pass along all that you have learned. “For the rest of my life?” Yes. And on the last time, you will be absorbed, to experience a year of pleasure as a reward for your efforts. Tanya grinned. Suddenly, this seemed like a very beneficial relationship. But do not forget that you are being entrusted with this information so that you may rule wisely and efficiently. A fair exchange, Tanya thought. You must to return to the palace, The being said. Your subjects await you. Rising, Tanya dressed, looking at the being fondly. “You sure we can’t do this every night?” You would become addicted to the pleasure, rather then focusing on your duties. “True enough.” Finally dressed, Tanya turned and headed back towards the exit. We shall meet again Tanya. Tanya smiled. “I look forward to it.”

Chocolaty Goodness

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 00:00:00 +0000

A Halloween Special 2009 Tale

Sandy walked confidently down the quiet streets in Bristol, Germany. She’d come here with a couple of friends; bent on seeing Europe in a single summer. Summer had come and gone, and so had most of her friends. Out of the group of six, only she and Miranda had chosen to extend their visit. Miranda had fallen for a local boy in their travels and Sandy wasn’t about to leave one of her closest friends abroad on her own.

The Solution

Sun, 16 Feb 2003 00:00:00 +0000

Test Tube

There is no up. There is no down. I cannot tell any orientation. The sameness pressing against me from every side fades to a constant that I no longer notice. How long have I been in this cocoon? How long will I remain in it?

The rest periods are the hardest. Minutes or hours of nothing, no sensory input other than the constant pressure that successfully blends into nothingness. The darkness over my eyes, the lack of sound, the lack of any change in tactile stimulation, the constant presence of the sweet, thick odor of raw rubber in my brain. I have completely lost any sense of time. Have I been here for hours, days or weeks?

Tales From The Psych Ward 6: We Are Not Alone

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from Tales From The Psych Ward 5: The Pony Farm)

Part 6: We Are Not Alone

Pony prancing up the middle of the street naked resulted in me being sent back to in-house treatment until I was once again “no longer a threat to myself or others around me.”

Dr. Henderson testified at the committal hearing. I’m not sure if he was for the defense or the prosecution. He explained that when I am in one of my states, I am not an overt threat to others or myself, but I am not aware of the reality around me. Thus, I could significantly injure myself or others. In his most expert-witness-called-to-testify voice, he explained to the judge, “During these episodes, he almost seems to be in his own personal reality.”

The Stories of Bound Friends 10: Sophia and the Unpleasant Arrangement

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from The Stories of Bound Friends 9: Andrea and the New Normal)

Part 10: Sophia and the Unpleasant Arrangement

The next few days after Carl’s death were slow and painful for Sophia. She met with a lawyer who said the contract could be passed down just like it could be sold, and so all the same restrictions apply. Which was especially terrible because there was then no one to give her permission to do the things she needed permission to do. And with the contract transferring ownership, she would likely be under extra scrutiny. She couldn’t ever be sure she had a moment where she could be free to break the rules without being noticed.