NANNY
A story by Pril
1
"But I just told you I don't want to take a bath now. What's the matter? You
don't understand English?"
"I do, sir," she answered with a little apprehension. "But I was told by Mrs.
Williams that seven thirty was the time for your bath, right before dinner, and
that it was my duty to make sure that not only you'd take it, but also that
you'd be impeccably clean."
"Well," he answered with exasperation, "That might be what she told you, but I'm
the man and breadwinner of this house and the final word is mine. And my final
word is that I'm not going to take any bath. Do you get that, my child?"
Since early that morning, Brenda had been living the strangest day of her life.
At about eight o'clock the phone had rung in her little downtown apartment. A
bit surprised to get a phone call so early in the morning, she had the pleasure
to hear Ms. Marison's voice on the other side. It had been some good many months
since she had last talked to her dear ex teacher, who, for two long years, had
trained her in the secrets of child behavior. Brenda was a certified
kindergarten teacher who had been so successful in her short career that she
ended up working privately for different rich families as a child-minder, thus
making a reasonably comfortable living.
Still young, she considered all her life ahead of her. She was also an extremely
beautiful woman who, nonetheless, kept a low profile by rarely wearing
ostensible clothes or much make-up. Although six foot tall, thin, and extremely
well proportioned, naturalness more than attraction was what people appreciated
in her. Her gesture was graceful, her manner well measured. That was partly what
made her so successful with children and their parents. She was quick to smile
and extremely careful in her comments. But, as those who knew her well would
testify, she could also be completely firm and intransigent about things she
considered important. At the end of the day, it was her will that was finally
imposed, and not that of the people who tried to get away with an attitude below
her standards.
All these features had made young Brenda the dearest protege of Ms. Marison, who
had time and again provided her with job opportunities until she could stand on
her own feet. And now, after a longish time, she had decided to call her again
for a most special offer very few people actually could know about.
"Is it a child prodigy?" Brenda couldn't hold her curiosity.
"No, dear," was Ms. Marison's kind reply. "I can assure you that you wouldn't be
able to guess what I'm talking about in a thousand years.
About an hour later, at the elderly woman's house and with a princely breakfast
on the table, Brenda didn't make any efforts not to show how surprised she was
at the whole story.
It had been rumored for quite a long time that a strange virus had spread some
time ago, first far away and later closer by. Apparently there had been some
people who had been attacked by a strangest ailment that made them shrink to a
tiny fraction of their original sizes. The newspapers had offered huge amounts
of money for the scoop, and some blurred photographs had appeared here and
there, but there had been no official confirmation whatsoever of such
allegations, and the rumor finally died away.
"Oh, yes," Brenda said. "I remember all about it. I think it was all a big lie,
wasn't it?"
"Well, my dear," Ms. Marison sweetly answered, "you are going to have to change
your opinion."
The old teacher, who also knew many people, had an old friend who had married
some years ago to some kind of libertine that had made her life impossible. They
had lost touch a long time ago, but she had just been called by the woman the
previous night.
"Sonia, my friend," Ms. Marison explained, "told me her husband had been
attacked by the strange virus a few months ago. I would have never believed such
a statement hadn't it been for the fact that I know Sonia so well. You see," Ms.
Marison continued, "we went together to university and she's been a dear friend
ever since. I also attended their wedding and I remember to this day what a poor
impression her husband made upon me and everybody else. But, I guess, being good
looking and something like fifteen years younger than her, Sonia just couldn't
help falling in love and letting him do whatever he wanted."
"And what happened now?" Brenda wanted to know.
"Well, apparently," Ms. Marison went on, "he's been shrunk a few weeks ago and,
ever since then, she just doesn't know what on earth to do with him. She says
he's become the most spoilt and bitter of people. He seems to be driving
everyone crazy in the household and she can't hold the situation any longer. So
much so that she badly needs a vacation and someone to take care of him in the
meantime."
"I see." Brenda said.
"Brenda," Ms. Marison said with emotion. "You are the best person I can think of
for such an important, even revolutionary task. I've always trusted you and I
know you'll do a fine job. I even have hopes you'll be able to help the little
man and revert part of his rebellious behavior."
"Well." Brenda hesitated. "I don't really know."
"Nonsense," Ms. Marison interrupted. "I know you too well to accept any
misgivings from you. And I also know how rich the Williamses are. Believe me,
Brenda, you'll get more money for two weeks' work than for an entire year."
"But I know nothing about adults."
"I'm sure you'll learn what to do very quickly. Anyway, from what I gather, Mr.
Williams doesn't seem to behave very differently from an ill-mannered child
these days, not to mention his ridiculous size: twelve inches!"
"What?" Brenda cried.
"Yes, my child," Ms. Marison said. "The man is only one foot tall and, although
I haven't seen him myself, I've been told he's quite a sight."
"Twelve inches." Brenda said in disbelief.
The rest of the morning had been spent on some last minute errands and the
packing of a couple of suitcases with clothes for two weeks. The Williamses
lived quite far from Brenda's town and there would be at least a couple of
hours' fast drive to get there. At around three o'clock, she found the mansion
she was looking for. It was a huge white house, well hidden in the forest,
surrounded by great extensions of wild trees. Brenda got out of her car,
stretched her long legs and fitting skirt after the long trip, looked at her
white face on a tiny mirror, and rang the big bell at the entrance.
She was surprised when Mrs. Williams herself opened the door for her. She was a
woman of about fifty, still beautiful, with kind, sad eyes that expressed all
the unhappiness of fifteen years of bad marriage and the latest undeserved
ordeal. The huge house, exquisitely decorated, was quite empty of people. The
woman gently led Brenda into the large living room, where a nicely set tea table
was waiting for them. As an elderly woman (the only servant left in the house)
served them, Mrs. Williams proceeded to explain her sad story to her young
visitor.
"Oh, I wish I could change my past," she said with wet eyes. "He was so handsome
and considerate. I was already thirty-five and starting to get worried about
never finding the right man for me. Little did I know that he was fooling me,
that he was thinking of my money and possessions. I still love him and think
he's a good man, but, God, he's made me suffer so." she stopped to dry a tear or
two and continued.
"And now, a few months ago, when at least I was used to things being the way
they were, this. this curse that made my husband shrink to such a ridiculous
size and wounded his pride in such a way that he can't tolerate the sight of
anybody. He's become so aggressive, so intolerant and sour. You can't talk to
him without getting shouted at or insulted. All my servants left the house in a
panic, after years and years of faithful work."
The woman talked so genuinely that Brenda couldn't help feeling a wave of
sympathy for her.
"And that's when I decided to phone dear Gwen," Sonia Williams explained,
calling Ms. Marison by her first name. "She's always been a good friend of mine
and I knew she'd find the right person to deal with my husband in his peculiar
condition. You look so pretty and kind, dear," Mrs. Williams said to Brenda.
"How old are you, my child?"
"Twenty-five, ma'am," Brenda answered respectfully.
"And I understand you have plenty of experience as a nanny, dear?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," Brenda said. "Although I can imagine this is quite different."
"Of course, of course, dear," Mrs. Williams hurried to say. "But he needs an
awful lot of patience and dedication, you see. Almost as a child does."
"I see."
"And I'm at the very end of my tether, dear," Mrs. Williams went on. "I do need
a couple of weeks off. The situation as it is, is completely intolerable."
Suddenly, out of the blue, a sharp shriek was heard nearby,
"You fucking stupid cow!! How many times have I told you to stay out of my way?"
Brenda was shocked to hear both the words and the strange voice. The little man,
making an unexpected appearance in the living room, had just finished shouting
at the old woman that had just served the ladies tea.
Shocked as Brenda seemed to be at the thin voice, she looked almost blown off
her feet at the sight of the man that had just uttered the rude statement. He
was as tiny as he had been described, only that he was now flesh and bones, and
not only a story. Twelve inches tall and perfectly proportioned, as when he had
been his normal size, Mr. Williams was literally a living Barbie doll, moving
about in a most fascinating way.
Looking still embarrassed after such an opening, Mrs. Williams said to her
husband,
"Oh, Albert, darling. Please come and meet Brenda. She's the lovely young woman
I told you Gwen had recommended to look after you when I'm away."
The little man got slowly closer to both ladies, still sitting on the sofa, and
looked at the younger one for a long time. Too long, was the first thing that
came to Brenda's mind, once she seemed to recover from the shocking beginning.
She suddenly felt she should have put some other clothes on for their first
encounter. Maybe wear pants instead of the fitting skirt. She felt gigantic next
to this tiny man, which was a strange feeling indeed. But for some reason, she
recovered quite quickly. Also, she couldn't help thinking, he would be able to
look straight at her panties if she got up. Finally, she said,
"Hello, Mr. Williams, nice to meet you," and, after an uncomfortable second she
decided to stretch her hand toward the little man.
But he just looked at her and her hand with sarcastic indifference talking,
instead, to his wife,
"What are you bringing children here for?"
"Oh, Albert, please," Mrs. Williams pleaded. "Can't you try and be more polite
at least this once? Brenda will be taking care of you for two whole weeks, and
I'm sure she'll help and be here for you for whatever you might need."
"I don't need anything," the midget shouted at the top of his voice. "What I
need is those useless doctors of yours to find a cure to this fucking @!#$ I
must have gotten from you!"
"Oh, Albert, please." Mrs. Williams said, almost crying.
"Oh, do me a favor and spare me your cheap show," he continued cruelly. "You
want to bring young girls to play the nanny with me? Suit yourself. Just make it
plain clear that she's to be at my service twenty-four hours a day, and that she
has to call me 'sir' and all that @!#$ I always expect from my servants. Is that
clear, Sonia?"
"Of course, darling," his frightened wife answered.
Well, that's some cheek, Brenda found herself thinking with indignation.
As suddenly as he had turned up, the little man disappeared again, leaving the
ladies to discuss the rest of their contract. Brenda was offered an incredible
sum of money for such a short-term job, which hardly demanded anything from her,
except devote herself to the little man's needs and his wellbeing.
Nonetheless, used as she was to working with children and their obligations
toward their nanny, Brenda saw fit to demand certain guarantees necessary to
give her the authority to implement the very demands she had been hired for.
"I'm afraid I need to ask you for your permission to make sure that I carry out
my duties in a most effective way, even if I have to insist at the expense of a
temporary whim of your husband," she explained. "You see, ma'am, what should I
do in case I need to make sure that Mr. Williams is ready for dinner at eight
o'clock if all of a sudden he decides to go somewhere else instead?"
"Well, dear." Mrs. Williams hesitated, "I guess you're right. Obviously there
has to be some order, doesn't there? Yes. I agree. As long as the guidelines are
followed you should grant him all the freedom he needs, but I think it's only
fair that also you know where you are at every time. I only hope he doesn't get
out of hand. It's been so hard for me to handle him."
"Don't worry, ma'am," Brenda reassured her, a faint smile on her lips. "You can
leave that in my hands. I'll do my best to make your life easier once you come
back from your holidays. I'm sure my experience with children will be of great
help in dealing with your husband."
"Oh, dear," Mrs. Williams said, "I really hope so," she smiled.
They finally agreed to let Brenda and little Mr. Williams spend the evening
together until dinner to see how they got along. In the meantime, the wife would
go out to town to sort out some last minute arrangements, coming back home for
dinner later. Then the three of them would have dinner together to smooth out
details right before Mrs. Williams' trip, later that night.
And, from then on, the ridiculous nightmare had started. For the last three
hours, the little man had driven poor Brenda literally crazy with his constant
demands: bring me this, bring me that; put this here and later there; look,
don't look; put the TV on and then off; don't sit on that armchair, don't cross
your legs when you're in front of me; open that door, close that window; don't
be silly, stupid, an ass, a jerk; you're only a child, you know nothing about
anything; that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard; who taught you that? You
don't understand English; you don't know what a woman is, a man is, a house is,
a brain is.
For three never-ending hours Brenda had been belittled, offended, abused, and
insulted in a way she wasn't used to any more. The little millionaire was simply
one of the most verbally abusive bastard she'd ever seen. And she had no
guarantees that at his normal size he could have also not been violent. In fact,
she wouldn't have been surprised if that had been the case at all.
Finally, she had mustered courage and slowly started to counterattack, if only
in holding more firmly the timetable she had committed herself to delivering.
And now, this little pre-shower scene was taking place.
"So, read my lips," he finished. "I'm not taking that bath. Now," he rudely
said, "out of here!"
They were standing in front of each other and it was quite a view. The little
12-inch-tall man, wearing the expensive casual clothes especially made for him,
was aiming an accusing finger at the impossibly 6-foot tall Brenda, who was
looking down at the little man with a mixture of confusion and amusement.
"I'm very sorry, sir," she insisted, "But I've been asked to make sure you're
ready on time, and I take it as my duty to ensure the effective carrying out of
my orders. I'd like to ask you to be cooperative, sir."
"Oh, get out of here, you clown," was his snappish answer. And he turned around
and started to walk away. Brenda, feeling she'd had enough, slowly stepped
forward to catch up within a second with the little man's quick, little steps,
and blocked his way with her massive legs. This was getting out of hand.
"I'm awfully sorry, sir," she said, looking down at the midget, "But I've also
been instructed not to allow any scornful comments or nicknames, like the one
you just called me."
"Out of my way!" he shouted hysterically.
"Oh, no, sir," was her calm answer. "Either you head for the bathroom or I'll
have to carry you there myself."
"You won't dare touch me, bitch!"
Brenda, considering all the barriers had been crossed, slowly lowered her
outstretched hand, opening it to wrap the man's little body.
"No! No! You, bitch! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" he shouted as he tried to
get away. But then, when seeing himself inevitably trapped and secured in her
powerful hand, his shouts turned from angry into desperate. "Sonia! Oh, please,
Sonia, help me!"
"Your wife isn't home, sir," Brenda calmly answered. "All your shouting will
make your situation only worse. I strongly suggest you relax a little, sir."
Still out of control, little Mr. Williams continued to scream and kick in the
air, banging frantically her huge hand with his tiny fists. Brenda wasn't moved
in the least; she would have preferred him to be more cooperative, but she
wasn't ready to ruin her new strange career by not doing what she was told to.
Whether he liked it or not, Mrs. Williams had been quite clear in her
instructions and had actually agreed to give her the authority necessary for her
job.
Still holding the little rebel tightly in her hand, Brenda walked calmly into
the luxurious bathroom, put the plug into the sink drain and filled it up with
warm water. There seemed to be no special soaps or towels around adapted to Mr.
Williams' size, so she just concluded he'd have to manage with whatever was
available.
"Now, sir," she said, raising her kicking captive to eye level, "Will you calm
down and get undressed and wash as I wait outside, or would you prefer me to
take care of it personally?"
"Put me down! Put me down, you whore!" was all the screaming she got for an
answer.
"Very well, sir," she continued. "You can't say I didn't ask you."
And, not thinking twice about the humiliating effect on the little magnate about
being stripped by the hands of a commoner, Brenda proceeded to take off his
clothes. She was hardly surprised at the deftness of her own movements. Using
her long, thin fingers, and the long nails that crowned them, she slowly removed
every piece of garment the tiny man had on, from shirt to shoes. Realizing that
the more he kicked the more he was exposing his delicate skin to the deadly
scratch of ten huge, sharp nails, little Albert instinctively stopped his act.
Somewhat to his surprise, he found himself not altogether uncomfortable in the
vibrant grip of his captor. This was immediately sensed by Brenda, which only
gave her more confidence in her task, and even made her smile a little.
"Everything all right, sir?" she ventured.
"Don't talk to me!" he demanded. "Just finish your damn job and let me take my
bath in peace."
Once completely naked, little Mr. Williams covering his crotch with his hands,
Brenda gently placed him on the sink border and said,
"What shall I do now, sir?"
"Get out of the bath and come back when I call you" was his moody answer.
"With pleasure, sir," she said. "Only that I was told I'd have to make sure you
are ready and properly dressed for dinner by eight o'clock. So I'd just like to
remind you that I'll wait for your call but only until ten minutes before eight.
I'll need to check that you are impeccably clean (as I was instructed to do) and
help you with your clothes.
"Look here, Brenda, or whatever you are called, I'm not going to take this @!#$
from any little."
"Ten to eight, sir," she cut him in the middle of his sentence and walked out of
the bathroom.
Damn the bitch, he thought to himself as he saw the giant young woman make her
calm retreat. I'll kill Sonia for this. Who does she think she is? We must be
paying her a ton of money for her job and see what she's doing to me. Besides,
how old is she? Twenty? Twenty-two? Do I have to take that crap from someone
fifteen years my junior? I'll give her what for!
Suddenly realizing he was wasting time with this self-questioning while getting
cold, he decided to get into the warm water and try and relax. After a few
minutes of leisurely water treading, he came out to get the small bar of soap
lying on the dish. But when reaching it, the stupid thing slipped off his hands
and went rolling down to the floor.
"@!#$!" he said. "How on earth am I going to get that back?" He looked down but
there was no way to climb down the fine marble structure without risking braking
his neck in the process. For a moment he thought of calling Brenda to get it for
him, but he wasn't in the mood to ask favors, plus he hated exposing his
nakedness to her. He'd have to wash with just hot water tonight, and that's it.
He went into the warm pool-sized sink again and continued his relaxing bath.
At seven-fifty sharp Brenda walked back in carrying a set of tiny formal clothes
and said,
"How was your bath, sir. Did you enjoy it?"
"It was all right," he said indifferently. "Just pass me a small towel and wait.
Don't look at me while I'm dressing."
First she noticed the soapless water, and then she saw the dry soapbar lying on
the floor. Soon realizing what had happened, she said,
"As you remember, sir, first I need to examine that you've washed to a
satisfactory standard. And, frankly, sir, that's hardly possible when you
haven't soaped yourself."
That was the last straw he was ready to take.
"Just pass me a towel, you fucking bitch!!" He screamed at the top of his lungs.
"Who gave you the right to.?"
While he was busy trying to find the hardest way to insult her, Brenda simply
bent down to the floor, picked up the soap, took the little man in her hand
again, and quickly started soaping him as someone washing a large cucumber. Her
patience was also somewhat altered and she didn't put so much care in how she
handled him this time around. The poor little bastard found himself seized by
what could have been a huge ten-legged octopus that could do with him whatever
it wanted. Tossed and turned over and over by Brenda's efficient washing, he
swallowed soapy water and got quite dizzy, as the ordeal seemed to never end.
Once she finished, and realizing there were but a few minutes left before eight,
she also dried him with the same precision and moved him quickly onto a kind of
shelf on the opposite wall. Handing him his clothes, she said with undeniably
assertive voice,
"Your clothes for tonight, sir."
Poor Mr. Williams, still breathing heavily and coughing after the odd diving
experience, realized he was in no position to argue. Grabbing the items from her
huge fingers, he started to get dressed, and he hastened the process when he saw
her looking nervously at her watch. God! He thought. You could set your clock by
this woman. Once he finished, Brenda asked,
"Have you got a comb, sir?"
"A comb?" he repeated.
"Yes, sir," she explained. "Your hair is still wet and doesn't look too tidy.
We'll have to comb it."
"Well, my dear tyrant," he smiled bitterly at her. "I'm afraid I don't have one
here. It must be in my chambers. And, since you seem to be so concerned about
being ready for dinner together with the radio official time, it will have to
stay like this for tonight, eh?"
"I'm sorry, sir," she disagreed. "But we'll have to try this for tonight." And,
grabbing his chin with two firm fingers, she proceeded to rake his hair back
with her long, sharp nails. The power of her grip, which made his body stand on
tiptoes, left him mute with awe. She stopped for a few seconds to examine his
style, and still pulled this and that lock of wet hair until she was satisfied.
Then, quickly glancing at her watch again, a little smile took shape on her
face, and she put the little man down on the floor, and said,
"Please follow me into the dinning room, sir," and she led the way there, the
tiny man following meekly behind.
Chapter 2
Mrs. Williams was already waiting for them at the nicely set dinner table and
she smiled widely when they entered the large room.
"So," she wanted to know, "How was your afternoon. Did you like each other?"
The little man quickly climbed up onto a chair and then the table, where a
tiny table and chair his size had been prepared for him.
"No, I didn't," he complained. "She isn't what I need at all. And she doesn't
have the least experience. And just now she's forced me to take a bath when I
didn't want to."
"Oh, darling," Mrs. Williams looked disappointed. "But you look so beautiful
now. So tidy and well dressed. And, you know I'm leaving for two weeks and
there's no one else to take care of you. Please make an effort to accept dear
Brenda. She's so nice."
"She isn't," he interrupted. "She's just seen me naked and forced me to wash
and hurt me when combing my hair."
"Well, sir," Brenda intervened. "You weren't helping much, and I think it's
necessary to have certain guidelines to know where we are."
"Of course, darling," Mrs. Williams supported her.
"No!" the little man shouted. "I don't want her to stay."
"But, darling," Mrs. Williams insisted. "Who's going to take care of
everything? You know poor Olga is the only servant left, and she comes a few
hours a day to take care of the cooking; that's all."
"There was a long silence in which no one knew what to say. Surprisingly, it
was Brenda the one that finally came up with a suggestion,
"Mr. and Mrs. Williams," she said. "Maybe if we all agree on certain line of
conduct and commit ourselves to following them, we can establish from the very
beginning what is expected from each one of us at every stage." As the couple
didn't object, she continued,
"I'll be happy to be of maximum assistance as long as I'm respected and
helped to carry out my duties here. In exchange for that, I'll be entirely at
Mr. Williams' disposal for whatever he considers necessary."
"Oh, what the heck do I care!" the little man said. "If you want to play
contracts you do it yourself. You can arrange whatever you want. I'll just do
whatever I want whenever I want it."
Brenda and Mrs. Williams looked at each other.
"In that case," Brenda said, "maybe your wife and me should draw the terms of
agreement between us, without your help."
He didn't even bother to answer.
So, for the rest of their dinner, Mrs. Williams and Brenda discussed what
life would be for little Albert during the next two weeks, while the person they
were talking about lost complete interest and simply concentrated on his food,
leaving the table within minutes.
Soon after dinner, Mrs. Williams quickly finalized the details of her
absence, called a taxi, and left the house almost in a hurry. She tried to say
good-bye to her husband, but he hardly showed any emotion. He just waved a hand
from afar and said,
"Bye."
"Don't worry, Mrs. Williams," Brenda said reassuringly. "You'll find a
different man when you come back."
"May God hear you," Mrs. Williams replied, and left home quietly.
Soon after, Brenda and little Mr. Williams were the only two people left in
the big house.
"I want to watch some TV," the little man said the minute the main door was
closed.
Brenda followed little Mr. Williams into the TV room.
"Put the TV on," he ordered dryly.
Brenda went up to the TV set and pushed the power button, then walked back a
few steps and sat comfortably on the expensive sofa. She crossed her long,
perfectly shaped legs in such an easy-going way that the little man got annoyed
at her matter-of-fact attitude. The worst was that those legs -like the woman
herself (he had to admit)- were so incredibly beautiful. He had a really hard
time trying not to let this fact change his mind. Brenda also sensed that her
looks were beginning to have their effect on the little monkey. It serves him
well, she thought, and sharpened the suggestive position of her legs.
"Well, what are you waiting for, you twit?" he rudely demanded. "You should
have passed me the remote control already."
"Sir, I'll have to remind you that it's been agreed you wouldn't call me a
twit or any other pejorative names," she answered. "Please remember that.
Besides, I don't know were the remote control is. If you'd be so kind as to tell
me."
"It's right over there under your nose, on the table next to your arm, you
blind ass!" he snapped, completely ignoring her warning.
"Very well, sir. I'm afraid I won't be able to help you if you insist on
calling me names," she didn't give up. If you don't like the channel we are
watching, feel free to take the control with your own hands and change it.
"Who do you think you are!" he shouted at her again. "I demand you give the
control right away, or else I swear you'll be fired tomorrow first thing in the
morning!"
Brenda didn't bother to answer or even look at the little man. She simply
took a magazine lying on the table next to the sofa before mentioned and started
leafing through it idly.
Little Mr. Williams tried two or three more empty threats but, on getting
absolutely no reaction from the calm, unmoved giantess, he decided to go for it
himself.
"Soon you'll see how little I need help from anybody," he said defiantly.
He took a few bold steps to the tall table and examined its structure. The
small, round glass top rested on a central wooden column that went all the way
down to three opening legs that kept the whole thing firmly on the floor. The
only way to get to the top would be climbing the wrought column to the bottom of
the glass and reaching the edge hanging from some metal rods that held the top
from beneath. He also considered the possibility of getting there via the sofa,
but the table was a bit far from it, and Brenda was sitting right there and he
didn't want to climb on and around her. After a few seconds he decided the feat
was possible as long as he made all the right moves.
The way up the middle column was relatively easy. He was a man (or a sixth
fraction of it) in his mid thirties, still fit and healthy. When reaching the
glass top from below, he could see the control right above his head. All he had
to do was hang his arms from the various metal rods holding the top, reach the
edge and climb up. There were quite a few rods from the center to the edge, but
he trusted his strength. Halfway through, though, he realized he may have made a
mistake. His body felt quite heavier than he thought for his arm resistance.
Each new rod became more and more inaccessible. His hands hurt and were covered
in a slippery sweat that made the whole thing only worse.
Brenda had become quite interested in his performance, even though she wasn't
going to make it obvious. Pretending to continue to read the magazine, she
couldn't help eyeing the little athlete more and more often, hardly concealing
her amusement at such a sight. The show became almost hysterically funny when,
with so much swinging, the little monkey's pants started to give way. To his
immense embarrassment and her hardly controlled laughter, the pants continued
obstinately their slow but sure way down in spite of all his desperate efforts.
He tried absolutely everything, from holding it with alternate hands to bending
his knees up in a supreme effort to prevent them from slipping down to his
ankles. He also considered the option to drop himself to the floor, after all
not that impossibly down below. But he was afraid to fall in a most inconvenient
position due to the pants entangled between his legs, and breaking his leg
bones.
There he was, the little clown, his pants down to his ankles, hanging almost
inert from a small side table, unable to decide what to do and getting more and
more tired by the second. Brenda continued to pretend total indifference
although she had plenty of time to look at him surreptitiously, as he was so
busy with himself. Finally, a wave of pity passing through her mind, she
ventured,
"Need some help, sir?"
"I don't need no help from no little brat!" was his surprising reply. Brenda
decided she had made a mistake by trying to help and returned her indifferent
sight to the magazine.
Little Albert finally gathered some extra strength from somewhere and
managed, with great effort, to get to the edge of the glass. He was still
clambering to the top when he saw, to his dismay, that Brenda easily took the
control he had been desperately trying to reach for such long minutes, changed
indifferently the channel, and put it back on the sofa next to her, exactly on
the opposite side from the table. Once he got on his feet he quickly tidied up
his pants and was about to complain, but then he thought that that would be
admitting defeat, which he abhorred. He was still glaring at her when she simply
asked,
"Everything alright, sir?"
He didn't answer. The way down was easier than the way up, first because of
gravity, and second because, for once, his pants stayed put. He quickly walked
to where the control was, ready to climb up the sofa, but when only a couple of
inches from reaching it, Brenda took it up again, quickly switched off the TV,
and said,
"I'm afraid TV time is over, sir."
"What the hell do you mean by that?" he shouted, almost in pain.
"Well, sir," she said with a serious face. "TV time was from whenever we
finished dinner till nine thirty. It's nine thirty at the moment, so I'm afraid
you'll have to wait till tomorrow in order to watch some more."
"I'm not taking this fucking @!#$ any more!" he started to bang his fists in
the air. "You give that thing to me right now or I'll take it from you myself."
She was still sitting on the sofa and he was standing on it, next to her.
Aiming for the control she was holding in her hand, little Mr. Williams made a
quick snatching move with his arm that was easily dodged by the giantess. Taking
his challenge, she kept the thing above him, not very high but high enough to
make all his jumping and jerking completely useless. He invested his very last
stamina of the day in trying to grab the prized control from the beautiful, calm
hands of the woman in charge, and the more he tried the more he made a fool of
himself and he knew it. Brenda kept an interested face, showing very little of
her thoughts, and waited patiently for him to collapse, breathless on the soft
cushion. Once it was clear who'd won their little contest, she said,
"As I said, sir. I'm afraid we'll have to wait till tomorrow for some more
television. Now, if you may, please follow me into your chambers so I put you to
sleep," and she got up to her feet, remote control still in hand, looking
impossibly tall to the little man lying down on the sofa, completely exhausted.
God, he thought, I have to beat her. I have to find the way to beat the bitch!
This feeling of frustration and revenge got mixed, once more, with the
awe-inspiring sight of the gorgeous giantess that seemed to rule now his life.
He couldn't stand her sight, but he couldn't help looking reverentially at her,
either. But, wait a second, had she just said put you to sleep? Partially
recovered from his strain he said,
"What do you mean 'put me to sleep'?"
"Yes, sir," she explained. "Your wife instructed me to make sure that you're
in bed and sleeping by ten o'clock."
"Me in bed and sleeping by ten o'clock?" he almost laughed. "Are you out of
your mind? I've never done that in my life!"
"So I think it's about time you start enjoying the benefits of such a healthy
habit, sir," she suggested. "Also, remember that you have to brush your teeth
and change into the proper pajamas before bed time, so please follow me to your
room to make sure there's plenty of time before you fall asleep."
He debated with himself what to do. If he tried to run away, after such
physical efforts, she for sure would catch him within seconds. On the other
hand, if he went with her and got into bed, he could soon pretend he'd fallen
asleep and wait for her to leave him alone in order to slip out of bed and do
whatever he wanted. Yes, he decided. That made sense. Let's just play her game.
Before she knows it she'll be the one sleeping like an angel and me the one
watching the channel I want on TV. He slowly got to his feet and climbed down
the sofa, soon following the giant young woman to his room.
The large bedroom was probably the best-equipped place for him in the
mansion. His bed was still huge and everything had been left as in the old days,
but there were a few appliances adapted for the little man's needs. Thus, he
brushed his teeth in a little sink and got undresses behind a folding screen.
"Don't look at me while I'm changing," he snapped at her. "I've had enough
body watching from a teenager for one day."
"You shouldn't worry, sir. I'm neither looking at you nor was I hired for the
privilege of such a treat," she said, knowing the comment wouldn't go amiss.
"What do you mean by that?" he demanded. "Let me remind you that my condition
is only temporary and that from the minute I get back to my normal size on,
you'll be one of the first things I'll take care of," he threatened.
"I'm sure you'll do that, sir," she said, unimpressed. "Nonetheless, right
now, what we'll take care of is your sleep. Please get into bed."
"Well, what's wrong with your nuclear clock?" he mocked her. "It must be
fully ten minutes before ten o'clock. How are you going to manage me closing my
eyes and drifting into a sweet dream within exactly six hundred seconds?"
"Well, sir," she said with a smile, "That's something you shouldn't worry
about. Just be so kind as to get under the covers."
As he walked toward and climbed up the large bed, already relishing in the
idea of freedom after she left, he heard a soft hum fill up the room. By the
time he got into bed the hum had turned into a delicate song incredibly well
sung with the sweetest of voices. Well, he thought, you can't take that from
her; she definitely knows how to sing.
Her soft tune continued for a couple of minutes as she tidied up the room.
Little Mr. Williams had all his senses focused on the song. Yes, he thought,
suddenly feeling very tired, I'm going to enjoy the night the minute she leaves.
And couldn't help opening his mouth in a little huge yawn. Just a few more
minutes and I'll go. I'll go. Where..? Wh...? Zzzzz.
By the time Brenda finished her tiding, she sat on the bed, next to the
drowsy one-foot-long man, never stopping her song. He was almost asleep, a sweet
little smile drawn on his lips. He looks so cute, she thought as she watched him
finally drift off into a mumbling dream.
"Good night, little prince," she whispered as she passed a soft finger on his
face. Just before she removed it a casual, involuntary move of his lips kissed
the tip of her nail.
"Oh, darling," she said. And left the dark room quietly.
Chapter 3
Early next morning, little Albert Williams was suddenly awaken by early
daylight coming through the windows.
"Good morning, sir," Brenda cheerfully said as she continued to draw the
curtains. "Have you slept well?"
It took the little man some very long seconds to remember yesterday's
newcomer and her irruption into his life. He forced his memory to see where he
had gone after she left the room, but he concluded he couldn't even remember
seeing her leave it. Had he really fallen asleep at ten o'clock? Impossible!
"What time is it?" he asked with a husky voice.
"Six o'clock, sir," she answered from the window. "Time to get up and start
our very busy schedule.
"What?" he said, annoyed. "Six o'clock? Do you think I'm gonna get up at this
time? Do me a favor and close those curtains and wake me at twelve thirty."
"Sorry," she said well-humored, "But it's jogging time for everybody, sir."
He suddenly realized she was wearing a gym suit and holding another, tiny
one, in her hand.
"No! No! And no! It's cold outside and I've never done this in my life," he
shouted, digging his head under the warm covers.
"Oh, come on, sir," she tried to encourage him, "There is nothing like an
early start to enjoy the day to the fullest."
There came no answer from under the blankets. Brenda walked assertively to
his bed, pulled the covers aside, and saw the little man all crawled up in the
fetal position.
"Come on, sir," she insisted but, after a few seconds of no reaction, she
said,
"Very good, sir. If that's how you want to behave from the beginning." And
she took the little man in her hands. He immediately started to kick and jerk
and she had to tighten her grip. Quickly carrying him into the toilet, she
gently put him in the sink while still holding him tight in her hand, and turned
on the blue tap. A thick jet of cold water streamed down, drenching the little
rebel in a second. The morning was cold and the water freezing. Poor little
Albert found himself shaking to the bone.
"Stop! Stop!" he shouted. "Turn it off! Now!"
After a long minute of keeping the tiny man under the cold water Brenda
turned the tap back off and offered a towel to the trembling midget.
"I suggest you dry off quickly and put on these clothes, sir," she said,
showing him his little outfit.
"I swear, Brenda, I swear!" he said between shivering teeth. "I'll make you
regret every minute of this!"
Ignoring his statement, she gave him a few minutes to get dressed and said,
"Now, sir. Let me put you down and show you what our training's going to be
like." And, before waiting for an answer, she put him on the floor and led the
way into the garden. He followed her at a trot, since he badly needed to keep
moving in order to get rid of his cold sensation.
Once in the garden she commanded,
"Very good, sir. Now I want you to run for ten minutes around the garden,"
and she started clapping her hands rhythmically.
Little Albert was only glad to start running, since he desperately needed to
warm up. Only that after two or three minutes, feeling warm again and already
bored of running around, he tried to stop. Brenda prompted him to continue, but
he waved a dismissing hand at her,
"No," he said. "I'm out of breath. Let's go have some breakfast."
"I'm sorry, sir," she repeated her sentence for the millionth time, "but
breakfast will come only after some good physical activity and a warm shower."
And, faster than he realized, she pulled a thin piece of string out of nowhere
and tied it round his neck. Pulling it gently forward, the poor little man
didn't have an option but run, if he didn't want to stumble and fall head-on to
the ground. Still running bumpily he shouted,
"What am I, a dog? Take this thing off me right away!"
"Sorry, sir," was her negative answer. "The ten minutes aren't over yet."
Once they were she gave him a couple of minutes to catch breath and removed
his improvised collar.
"Good, now," she continued. "Now it's time for fifty sit-ups."
He suddenly found himself on the wet grass struggling with his long
out-of-shape body to comply with her demands. After about 35 of them he just
thought he'd die. But, once more, Brenda's solution didn't leave any doubts
about how seriously she took his fitness: she dug two long fingernails into his
legs inflicting quite a bit of pain, and said,
"It's either this or the completion of your fifty, sir."
Then came the climbing of the rope, for which she used a piece of thicker
string. Not finding anywhere to hang it from, Brenda just held it with her hand,
her arm outstretched. As poor little Albert painstakingly managed his way up he
couldn't help marveling at the difference between their conditions. While he had
to put all his effort into getting that high, it wasn't even above the giant
woman's eye level who, besides, was holding the entire structure. Also, as much
as he could manage, he stole lascivious glances at the woman's body,
great-looking even in sport-wear, while going up and down her little invention.
After good forty minutes of demanding training, Brenda said,
"Not bad, sir. Not bad at all. I'm sure tomorrow will be even better. Now,
it's time for a good morning shower."
"Go to hell," was all he had to say as he walked to the bathroom.
After the shower, it was breakfast time at seven o'clock. Like last night,
little Mr. Williams found himself sitting on the large table at another, tiny
one, in front of his nanny.
"What?" he cried when seeing what breakfast was. "Cereal? What am I, a horse?
I want my bacon, and scrambled eggs, and toast with butter, and a piece of
chocolate. Together with coffee with cream."
"Sorry, sir," was her firm answer. "This is much healthier. But if you finish
it off I may consider a little cup of coffee after."
"You may consider?" he made fun of her, "Well, thank you very much, Ms.
Consideration, but I'm not having this children's stuff. I'm a mature person who
knows what he wants and what I know is that I'm not going to eat this @!#$."
"As you wish, sir," was her answer. And she proceeded to take his bowl back
to the kitchen.
When she came back, he said,
"I suppose I haven't been granted that coffee you mentioned, have I?"
"Aha." she answered. A strange silence followed her word. ".sir," she added.
This was the first time in these two days she had forgotten to finish her
sentence with the prescribed respectful term. Neither of them was sure whether
the other had noticed the detail, but they never mentioned it.
"OK," he suddenly said as he watched her eat her cereal with gusto, "You win,
I'll have my cereal after all."
"I'm afraid that's a little late, sir," she objected. "You've just told me
you don't want any."
"So what?" he said with exasperation, "Can't I change my mind?"
"Sure you can, sir," she didn't give up. "Only that I can't be running back
and forth after your whims. If you are the mature person you claim to be, think
what you say before you open your mouth, as mature people do. Besides," she
added, "you seem to have the tendency to talk to me in a rather rude way, even
when asking favors."
"OK, OK," he dismissed her comment, "I'll be nicer to you in the future. Now,
just go and bring me my cereal."
Brenda seized the chance.
"If I bring it to you, can I count on your improving your manners?"
"Yeah, yeah," he said impatiently.
"Really?" she smiled, moving her plate aside. "In that case may be we should
make a deal."
"What deal?" he said.
"Well." she continued, "would you commit yourself to never calling me names
again?"
"Yes, no problem," he answered, trying to get her to do what he wanted and
forget about it.
"But I'll need certain guarantees," she smiled amiably.
"What guarantees?"
"Well," she explained, "how do I know that you won't be insulting me again
within half an hour?"
"Er. you have my word," he said nonchalantly.
"OK," she went on. "Here is my suggestion. If you call me again any of those
derogative names we'll have to open a ten minute window."
"A ten minute window for what?" he didn't understand.
"A ten minute window for me to respond to your transgression in whatever way
I choose."
"What, insult me back, you mean?" he became cautious.
"I'm afraid you'll have to trust me with that, sir," she almost winked at
him. "In any case, if you've given me your word there shouldn't be any problems.
Your word counts, sir, doesn't it?"
"Of course!" he seemed to be offended.
"So, sir. Have we got a deal?" she wanted to know. "Next time you call me
names do I have my ten minutes to deal with you as I see fit?"
He thought for a couple of seconds and finally said,
"OK, OK. We've got a deal. Now bring me that cereal."
Brenda carefully stretched her hand for him to shake it. He grabbed the tip
of her beautiful finger with both his hands and shook it.
"A deal"
Breakfast ended with the coffee she had promised.
"Very good, sir," she announced energetically, "it's time for some morning
activity now. First: newspaper reading."
"What?" he said.
"Yes, sir," she explained. "Apparently you don't seem to know much of what's
going on in our country and world, except for sports. It's about time we learn a
little what reality is like beyond the four walls of your beautiful house."
As usual, he objected, saying he knew everything. But a couple of questions
about this and that well-known politician or world event showed that he didn't
know much more than the names, if at all. So they displayed the daily broadsheet
on the table and Brenda chose the articles to be read. She was appalled by his
ignorance and poor reading, not much more developed than in a nine-year-old boy.
After a long hour of tiring stumbling through the text he asked for a break.
"In a minute, sir," she said. "Let's finish the article first."
"No!" he got exasperated. "I don't want to finish it. It's boring and I don't
care about it. I want to stretch my legs and walk a little. Now."
"Well, sir," she insisted. "I'm afraid we'll do that after you finish."
"Bitch," he muttered.
The minute he did so he suddenly remembered his promise.
"I'm sorry?" Brenda looked at him intently. "I thought we had a deal, sir.
But apparently your word seems to be somewhat erratic. I'm afraid we'll have to
open a little ten minute window under the terms we discussed earlier."
"What did I say?" he pretended surprise. "Hey! What are you doing?"
Brenda had taken a satin ribbon out of her pocket and was tying it up around
little Mr. Williams' neck.
"Well, sir," she continued in a matter of fact way. "This will be my response
to your insult for now. We'll take the walk you wanted all right. But you'll
have to do it as a little dog, leashed to its master."
"What?!" he shouted, trying to prevent her giant fingers from completing her
work, to no avail. "Like a dog? What am I, an animal?"
"I'm afraid that for the next ten minutes you'll have to be whatever I decide
you to be, sir," was her indifferent answer. "We have a deal, remember?"
"I don't care about no deal!" he tried to object. But by the time he finished
his sentence he was already down on the floor being pulled by the giant woman as
a little pincher who doesn't want to walk.
"Come on, puppy," she teased him. "Time for your walk."
All his tiny physical objections went absolutely nowhere. Brenda was pulling
hard and even lifted him up in the air by the ribbon round his neck, which made
him choke. Soon he found himself walking fast around the house and out into the
garden, almost trotting to follow the woman's steady steps. Once out there, she
said looking down at him,
"Come on, puppy. Do what dogs do. Smell the ground and trees."
"Brenda, please," he tried to reason with her. "Don't."
"I'm sorry, puppy," she smiled. "I don't understand dog's language very well,
so you should stop barking. It means nothing to me." And she continued, "OK,
little puppy, now sit on the grass. We are going to learn a few tricks."
Never waiting for the little man to obey her requests but deftly pulling her
ribbon to put him in the right position, she said,
"OK, little dog, show us how you lift a leg."
"Brenda, pl." She gave the ribbon such a yank that he jumped into the air and
fell clumsily on the ground. He was soon realizing that, in spite of her playful
tone, she was actually being very serious about her demands. Getting back to his
standing position, the ribbon still stretched and pulling at his neck, he slowly
raised an arm.
"That's a beautiful puppy!" she cheered. "Let's see now how you put out your
tongue to show us how happy you are."
The little clown didn't have an option but stick out his tongue, which Brenda
met with renewed positive comments. Then, suddenly looking at her watch, she
said,
"Good, sir. The ten minutes are over. Now let's go back, finish that article and
take a break."
During that break little Mr. Williams tried to convince giantess Brenda to
forget the deal they had agreed upon earlier on, but she wouldn't hear of it.
Finally ignoring his protestations, she said,
"Very good, sir. Now it's time for some TV instruction."
"What do you mean?" he demanded.
"Well, sir," she explained. "I've marked on the newspaper program two or
three highly instructive documentaries which could greatly benefit your patchy
education. You'll just have to watch them and then sum them up for me."
"What are you, my elementary school teacher?" he mocked her. But when he saw
her removing the ribbon from her pocket again, he quickly added,
"OK, OK, I'll watch your programs. Maybe there is something interesting in
them after all."
For the next hour and a half they both devoted their attention to some wild
animal and environmental pollution documentaries, which were quite good. But
little Albert wasn't used to focusing his mind on anything beyond second rate
thrillers, so he took good care to show his boredom. By the third huge, sounding
yawn, Brenda said,
"Sir, if you yawn once more I'll have to make you watch the rest of the
program on your feet."
From then on he took good care not to yawn again or, at least, not to do it
so obviously. Then, Brenda granted him a ten-minute break until eleven o'clock.
"What we'll have then is your first lesson on good manners," she said.
"You must be kidding me!" he clapped his hands in the air.
"No, sir, I'm not," was her stern answer.
.
Chapter 4
After studying her face for a while, he realized she was dead serious and
decided not to fight an already lost battle. Instead he said,
"I'm already hungry, you know? What time are we eating?" He couldn't help
realizing he was gradually turning his orders into careful questions of
permission.
"At one o'clock, sir," Brenda said. "But you may have a little chocolate or
something if you want."
"Well, thanks for your kindness, Ms. Generosity," he said mockingly. "In that
case I'll be having the chocolate, if you don't terribly mind."
"No need to be sarcastic, sir," she said fearlessly, and went into the
kitchen.
Once back, and walking with a tiny piece of chocolate in her hand for Mr.
Williams, the phone suddenly started to ring. Forgetting for a second what she
had just come back for, she walked towards the telephone and picked up the
receiver, leaving poor little Albert empty handed.
"Oh, Mrs. Williams," Brenda said professionally, "Yes, ma'am, everything is
all right, thank you. Yes, ma'am. Yes, he is behaving perfectly all right. Yes.
Yes."
The conversation seemed to be extending into some unimportant details. Little
Albert was becoming impatient with his chocolate and was trying to get Brenda's
attention waving his arms, but the giant woman was still in her own world of
reporting to the boss. He finally got closer to the giantess's legs, standing at
the little phone table, and jumped high up trying to snatch the prize from
between her fingertips, graciously relaxed at her side. His attempt was a couple
of inches below target and he tried again. There was little improvement, but he
wasn't still there. The more he jumped, bumped and got tired with the continuous
effort, the poorer his performance got.
In the meantime, Brenda was still chatting with Mrs. Williams, never
realizing the tiny man's useless pirouetting in the air. His final go ended in
total failure. He just collapsed to the floor, completely exhausted, still
looking up at the unaware winner of a contest in which the woman hadn't even
realized she was taking part. Still panting, lying down on the ground, little
Albert for the first time patently came to understand what this young lady was
doing to him. She was becoming his feeder, instructor, and provider. She was
deciding what he does, how he does it, and when he does it, if she allows him to
do it at all. Her power was such that she could leave him absolutely flat on the
floor not even noticing what had been actually going on.
And he looked at her from beneath. She was so incredibly beautiful, and
natural, and gracious. The mere way in which she innocently held that piece of
-for him- inaccessible chocolate made his desire wake up. He stared at her long,
well shaped, beautiful legs; at her elongated young body, at her pretty face.
God, you are beautiful, he thought, and couldn't help a ticklish sensation pass
between his legs. But no! No! He wouldn't let anyone decide for him. He wanted
his freedom to do as he wished, no matter how gigantic the enemy. Sooner or
later he'd manage to get rid of this intruder and break free. Yes, sir! No one
would tell him what to do. He got up to his feet and renewed his vow not to be
defeated by anyone, especially a young woman who could have been his very little
baby sister.
The phone conversation went on for a few more minutes, in which he calmed
down and patiently waited for Brenda. Once she finished, the young nanny handed
the little man the piece of chocolate with a smile.
"Your wife sends you love, sir," she said. "Don't forget we have our lesson
starting in a minute," she added.
Up yours, he thought.
At eleven sharp their 'manners' lesson started. For it he climbed up the table
in order to take a seat on the tiny chair on top.
"Oh no, sir," Brenda stopped him on his way up. "For this activity your chair
will be placed on the floor, right in front of mine."
"What do you mean?" he asked. "I won't even be able to see your face
properly."
"I know, sir," she answered. "But that's how you see most people anyway and
it's necessary that you learn your way around from the position in which you'll
find yourself most of the time."
"Well, no," he objected. "I prefer the table, anyway." And he continued to
climb.
"Sorry, sir," Brenda apologized once more. "But the lesson will be carried
out from the ground." And, simply taking the tiny chair in her hand, she
proceeded to put it down on the floor. Then she placed a regular chair in front
of the little one and sat on it herself.
Mr. Williams, who had reached the tabletop, waited in vain for a few seconds
but, on seeing no reaction, he unwillingly stepped down and took a seat where
his nanny had told him. Once there, he found himself in front of a massive pair
of legs, disappearing high up into a fitting dress. Well above there were the
woman's generous breast and her angel-like face, which he forced himself to hate
in spite of their beauty. The picture turned even worse when she comfortably
crossed her perfect legs into a position that seemed to him just too
self-confident for somebody who, after all, was working for and being paid by
his household. The tip of her medium-heel sandal was so close to him that he
could distinctly smell the typical, yet intoxicating shoe aroma. Her big toe
showed through an elegant opening. God, he thought, every bit of her is just
perfect. Then, looking up at her face, he suddenly realized her smile was giving
away the fact that she had noticed his little infatuation. He immediately
changed his attitude into a non-committing one and said,
"All right? Do you feel happier this way?"
"Don't worry, sir," she said, keeping her smile. It won't hurt as long as
everything is done well. You can only benefit from this, I can assure you."
And she continued right away,
"The two most important words of any well-mannered person are 'please' and
'thank-you', which, I've noticed, seem to be almost absent from your vocabulary.
I'd say that as long as you use these two magic words there shouldn't be much
else to worry about. As long as you mention them when necessary all the rest of
our lessons will be but commentary."
She stopped for a second to see whether he was taking it in. As there was no
comment, she continued,
"Today we'll devote our time to these words and their application, and I'll
expect you to start using them more often even after the class is over. So," she
proceeded, "let me give you an example of what I mean." And pointing out at a
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