A Dose of His Own Medicine

"How do you feel, Mr. Wilson?" Mary asked him, eminently satisfied that she didn't have to touch his cock even once.

"I'm so tired," he said, as he greedily drank the cooling liquid. "So tired."

The faces before him seemed to meld together into one great montage of human flesh, indistinguishable from one another, as the lab became smaller and smaller until it breached the point of singularity and vanished altogether.

************

It was 2:00 a.m. the following day when Jim Wilson woke up to find himself straddled across his desk, his head feeling as though it had been kicked around like a football, and his eyes barely able to focus. He sat up and looked around the room, now bathed in the soft light of a single desk lamp situated behind him. On his desk was a note from Mary. It read: I didn't have the heart to wake you. She had left the number of the company's cab service for him.

Mary!Suddenly it all came back to him. He had been abducted against his will and forced to perform... No! Impossible! It had to be a dream—all of it. His mind could not conceive of such depravities committed against him—not him, not Jim Wilson.

And yet, the images seemed so frighteningly real—the examination table, the lab, the women in the office looking down upon him as if he were nothing more than a test animal to be prodded and examined. Then there was the leering face of Dr. Devlin and her two nurse allies, the intimidating needle that she injected into his scrotum...Oh, my God! He had been forced to give a sperm sample! Many sperm samples!No, this is crazy! He thought. Just a crazy dream!

He had to get home and rest. After calling for a cab, he threw on his coat and took the lift to the ground floor. But then, in an effort to assuage his troubled mind, he pressed the button for sub-level 3, and once there, walked out into the hall and looked around. The only lights that were on were the emergency floodlights and there was not a person in sight. He looked into the examination room and found everything in order. It had indeed all been a dream. He sighed heavily and took the lift once more up to the street level.

As he passed out of the building he saw the night guard, who said a cheerful "goodnight" to him. The night air was brisk and rejuvenating, and soon he was feeling a little better. In five minutes he was in a cab and headed for home. His mind was still groggy but he managed to find his way into his apartment and promptly threw himself onto his bed where he fell fast asleep.

It was not long after that he awoke screaming and dripping with sweat. There was a tingling sensation emanating from the area of his groin. He tore frantically at his zipper and pulled down his pants and underwear. There was a bright red glow surrounding his genitals and his balls were expanding. A few seconds later, to his utter horror, his hand was pulling viciously on his now two-foot-long cock, and soon steady streams of sticky semen were being ejaculated all over his bedroom. It was as if his prick had somehow become a hose and there was no way to turn off the faucet. In a matter of minutes his entire bedroom was submerged in over a feet of slimy spunk and he was still ejaculating. And all the while, deep in the recesses of his tortured mind, he heard the incessant sound of women laughing. They stood outside his apartment window looking at him—Mary, Margaret, Dr. Devlin—they and the entire staff watching him jerk his humongous cock for their singular viewing pleasure. And still the sperm continued to flow from his penis, the viscous fluid now reaching the level of his neck. Soon he would drown in it. As he felt the milky ejaculate rise up to cover his mouth, he awoke with a start, realizing it was all a dream. But even as he sat up in his darkened room, the last remnants of laughter were still to be heard, if only faintly.

************

The weekend came and went all too fast. Unable to account for his tiredness, Jim would have preferred to have taken an extra day or two to relax, but the Yamaguchi account beckoned, and he had to make sure that Mary went through with the firing of either Angie or Margaret. He really didn't care which, as long as it got done.

Convinced his experience had all been a figment of his imagination, Jim said nothing to anyone about his dream—not even his father. When he arrived at work on Monday morning he had discerned no changes in the women's attitudes towards him; they had remained entirely deferential and professional, if distant. He threw out some vague questions at Mary and a few others during the course of the day but felt foolish doing so, even if some tiny part of him refused to abandon the belief that his abduction had, in fact, been real.

When Mary told him that it had been Margaret, and not Angie, who had been terminated, he remained indifferent. She had followed his directives and he was not in the least interested in the details. All he could think of was that the company would be saving over 36,000 pounds per year with her gone. In fact, with her imminent dismissal, he got to thinking that maybe more fat should be trimmed from the bone. With his father's blessing, Jim got to work that very day, making up a list of employees who would have to go. It was not a vendetta. It was a cold, efficient way of saving the company money. The harsh economic times demanded it, and he was the perfect man for the job. There really was no emotional aspect to the campaign. There couldn't be; his concerns were—and always had been—only for himself.

On Tuesday morning, just after mid-morning break, he called the heads of all the departments into the conference room to let them know that layoffs were going to begin. Mary, while her own job as his personal secretary was not threatened, was forced to attend the meeting. She thought it insensitive of him to induce her to go, knowing that many of these women, being her friends, might not handle the situation very well, and would look to her with pleading eyes to save their own or their subordinate's jobs, which was something she could not do.

Seated at the conference table were Jackie Eddington, head of the accounting department, Agnes Mitchell, head of the administrative department, Dr. Devlin, medical research head, Jasmine West, head of the editorial department, and two other women—Olivia Johnston and Jenny Doers, who handled all outside sales and public relations for the company. Jim sat at the head of the long, oval table nearest the door; Mary sat to his right facing the windows. A single computer stood on the table in front of her boss, and he was looking at the screen while everyone around him sat in utter silence.

Mary stared at the panorama that lay beyond the collection of morose faces, the faces of her friends who sat numbly awaiting the unwelcome news. She bit her lower lip hard. There air hung heavy with expectation, as if these women sought something from her. But she saw no sign of weakness in any of their eyes. Nor was there any sense of foreboding that one might have expected from the knowledge that some, or maybe even all of them, might be going to their doom. Whatever prescience they commanded was solely contained within their own domain, of which she was as yet not cognizant. Something was up—but what? Their steady gaze acted like a penetrating beacon that spoke to her in lieu of words, revealing them to be the possessors of arcane knowledge that was soon to be revealed. As such, they avoided Jim's eyes, as she did, afraid that he might see within them the demise of his own future. It seemed to her that their machinations were far too well conceived to be dismissed as a mere ploy. And so she played along, as if she were dealing a hand of poker, her facial features betraying no emotion as her boss began to speak.

"Thank you all for being here," he stated, staring into the monitor screen. "I had the unpleasant task of having to let our dear friend Margaret Wainwright go today."

Mary winced. To hear him refer to Margaret as a 'friend' was outrageous. But what angered her even more was that it was she who had been the one to tell Margaret she was fired, not him.Damn liar!

"It was the last thing I wanted to do but these tough economic times demand that Wilson Labs cut expenses wherever possible. I'm sure you all understand."

None of the women, not even Mary, uttered a word.

"Yes, well," he continued. "There are going to be more cuts across the board effective immediately and I wanted all of you to be aware of these changes."

"Mr. Wilson," Jenny said, looking first at Mary and then at him. "I don't really understand how you can justify these layoffs. Wilson Labs is making money hand over fist. We are in no financial difficulty that I am aware of. Is that not right, Jackie?"

"We earned a net profit of over twenty-seven million pounds this first quarter," the pretty accountant said. "I don't think anyone believes that Wilson Labs is in any financial trouble except you, Mr. Wilson."

Jim cleared his throat. This was not going to be easy.

"I know what the figures look like on paper," he said, addressing Jackie. "But our subsidiaries and overseas affiliates have been working at a loss for over three years. Those numbers should have been quadrupled and as such do not reflect the company's true net worth."

"But that doesn't take into account the monies we've pulled in from our overseas contracts like Yamaguchi and Star India," Jackie replied. "And we are doing exceptionally well with the sale of Infiritol and our new cancer treatment drug, Solvitar, all around the world. Sales from these two drugs alone have topped three billion pounds per year, Mr. Wilson. Three billion pounds."

Mary saw her boss's face register first annoyance and then irritation. "Three billion pounds of which the bulk goes back into R&D. You know that, Jackie. It doesn't translate into liquidity."

"All I'm saying, sir, is that firing people is simply not justified based upon the figures. We are hard pressed as it is to keep up with the abundance of work you throw at us. If anything, we need more people to help carry the slack, not less."

"I'm forced to agree," Olivia said. "You people in the upper echelons, and I'm speaking about you sir, and the Board of Directors specifically, seem to get by quite well indeed on your lofty salaries. All that bailout money you guys got from the government hasn't been idle, has it? It's gone to replenish your already bloated coffers while the rest of us pay into a system that provides us with very little real benefit. And what is our reward for years of service? You take a beautiful person like Margaret Wainwright and throw her to the dogs. But don't you go parading your company virtue in front of us, sir. We are wise to you."

"What the hell is this woman talking about?" Jim exclaimed, turning to Mary.

Mary couldn't help but repress a smile. "I think you know what she's talking about, Mr. Wilson."

"I'll be damned!" he replied. "Do you ladies think that I have some ulterior motive in wanting to cut jobs?"

"Yes, you do." Agnes said. "You claim to want to save the company money. But we all know that Wilson Labs is doing just fine financially. Jackie let us see the profit and loss statements for the past several years. If anything, your profits have been increasing by leaps and bounds. This is hardly an environment in which to start throwing decent, hardworking people out on the street."

"Do you deny that there is a recession going on?" he asked her. "And that many companies, not just ours, are suffering as a result?"

"Oh, please!" Jasmine sneered. "Suffering? Wilson Labs? Do you take us for a bunch of fools, Mr. Wilson? It was corporate America, England, and all the super-rich countries that created this economic time bomb that blew up in your corporate faces. All you want to do is to rake in more profits, but this time, at your employee's expense. That's the truth and you know it."

Mary' boss looked at her with eyes full of consternation. She knew that Jasmine had hit the nail on the head and that Jim was simply trying to garner favor in his father's eyes under the pretence of saving the company money. She knew that if it were up to Jim, no one's job would have been safe, not even hers. And there was no written guarantee that she, herself, might not end up on the dole—another nameless statistic in his fanatical pursuit of power over the feminine race. It was a pity that his recent experiences had not in any way modified his dismal behavior. She didn't want to do it, but something would have to be done. Now fully convinced that the penetrating and knowing glimpses emanating from the vigilant eyes of her co-workers were not merely based upon some vague supposition, she decided that it was time to play her trump card.

"So!" he said, throwing up his hands in frustration. "I'm once again the bad guy because I'm doing what I feel is necessary to keep this company afloat. Well, so be it. I'll be the bad guy."

"Don't do it, Mr. Wilson," Jenny admonished him. "We'll bring legal action against you if you do."

"Do whatever you wish," he replied flippantly. "In the meantime, I will proceed with the terminations. You can go now."

He stood up and told them the meeting was over.

"Not so fast, sir," Mary said. "There's something I want you to see."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sit down, Mr. Wilson," she replied as she threw a CD into the machine. "We want you to understand just what you're dealing with here."

Thinking this was all some simple feminine sleight of hand, he sat back down in his seat with all the smugness his arrogant nature could produce. In a few moments the monitor screen was flickering, and the startling images that it produced were reflected in the horrific expression that now played upon his face.

"No, this can't be right," he mumbled to himself. "This was just a dream I had. How in heaven's name..."

Suddenly there emitted from the monitor's speakers an incredible roar of women's voices that made him tremble in fear. He watched in horror as the lab cameras revealed a completely naked man laying bound and prostrate on an examination table, his penis and balls of decidedly prodigious dimensions, stroked by pairs of hands until huge milky ropes of sperm were launched from its tip, one after the other, sailing out into the void, accompanied by the raucous din of an excited female crowd.

"This fucking thing is real?" he cried.

Again, another outburst of female voices assailed his ears as he watched his own semen shoot up high into the air.

"Is that me?" he cried again. "Is that really me?"

Mary stopped playback and removed the CD. There was no emotion in her face.

"I made this copy for you," she began. "I have several others in safekeeping."

The awestruck man shook his head back and forth as if disbelieving what he had seen. "I thought it was all a dream!" he exclaimed, looking up at the doctor. "But it wasn't! It was you! You drugged me!"

"Yes, Mr. Wilson," Dr. Devlin said. "I gave you a mild sedative."

He looked at her as if she were transparent, his mouth hanging open, unable to speak.

"Infiritol has a hallucinogenic side effect which is more pronounced in some people than in others," the doctor continued. "That is why you thought it was all a dream. But I assure you, it happened."

Jim continued to stare at her, the realization that he had been duped by these women and subsequently abused by them exemplified by the lurid expression upon his face.

"Jesus Christ! How could you do this to me?" he snapped, turning to Mary. "I will crucify all of you for what you've done!"

"You take one step in that direction and we'll take you right down with us," Jackie said, indicating the CD Mary held in her hands.

Jim cast his eye upon the disc and hung his head in anger and frustration.

"I want you to listen to me and I want you to listen real good," Mary said to him. "I'll make this easy on you. Tell your father that, after conferring with us, you have decided that your idea to start firing people was premature. I don't care what excuse you use. I'm sure your evil mind will think of one. You'll look like a fool in his eyes, but so what? You look far worse to us now. You are to restore Margaret to her former position and you will do so today. No questions asked. If you refuse to do so I will make sure that the contents of this CD finds its way onto the Internet for everyone to see. Are we clear?"

"This is blackmail!" he spat, his face flushed with emotion.

"It is indeed. And you are going to do one other thing for us, Mr. Wilson." She produced a spiral-bound notebook from her valise and threw it in front of him. "Read it," she said.

He took one look at the cover and moaned aloud.

"Sex Slave of the Nymphs?" What is this fucking trash?"

"Fucking is exactly right. You are going to be the male lead in a porn film, Mr. Wilson."

"I'm what?" he exclaimed, his voice rising a few octaves.

"My friend is an independent producer and director of adult films. In fact, you dated her several times before rudely dumping her without any warning. Does Ruth Everly ring a bell?"

"She's the biggest whore in town!" he rasped. "Do you really think you can force me into this?"

"I think you know the consequences if you don't comply."

The CD was again produced and dangled in his face.

"I see," he said with marked contempt. "So how long are you going to hold this "Infiritol" incident over my head? When does the blackmailing end, if ever?"

"It will end when you finish the film."

"And what's to stop this Everly bitch from blackmailing me?"

"Despite what you think of her, Ruth is an honest person. You and she are going to sign a contract, which forbids her from releasing the film on the open market or on the Internet. She will retain the only copy, which will be destroyed after the girls and I have viewed it. At the same time, all the copies of this CD will be summarily destroyed as well. You can do what you want with this copy I'm going to give you, but beyond that, there will be nothing remaining to incriminate you."

He took the CD from her hand and tossed it on the table in front of him.

"Now what the fuck am I going to do with this?"

"We thought you'd get a kick out of it," Jenny said mockingly. "Seeing as how you were manhandled by us and all, it only seemed appropriate that you have a copy. You know, to remind you of what happens to people when they treat others as you do."

"Make sure that you watch it alone," Jackie said to him with all seriousness. "Some of the scenes in there can be quite humiliating."

Their sarcasm cut through him like a knife, but he would not reveal his hurt, not to these bitches. He took the CD and put it in his jacket pocket.

"Tell me something, Mary. Why would anyone go through all the trouble to make a porn film that no one but you and your friends are going to see? It makes no sense."

"Oh, but it makes perfect sense. You'll understand when you've read the script."

"I don't like the sound of this. I don't like it at all."

"I don't care one bit what you like, Mr. Wilson. The contract will be delivered by messenger to your apartment tomorrow. You will return it the next day by overnight mail with your signature on it. If I find out from Ruth that she has not received it in due course, then I will go ahead and publish this little homemade spectacle of ours on YouTube for all the dirty little minds of this world to drool over."

"You're just sick enough to do that, aren't you, Mary?" he said, meeting her eyes for the first time.

"She's not sick," Jackie said, coming to Mary's defense. "She's smart."

"But all your faces are in the video, too. You'll be incriminating yourselves right along with me."

"The video has been edited," Mary assured him. "It is only your face that will be seen."