H. Bigguns - Victorian Scientist Vol. 01

A rather dreary London day greeted me as I arose in the morning, the grey pale light yet another reminder of the rather depressing northern climes I had recently returned to, but never really escaped from in my thoughts. A late night out with friends after a most stimulating discussion at the London Scientific Foundation dinner the previous evening had rendered me lethargic and un-nimble in my ablutions, in fact having just spilled a trail of urine off the corner of my bedpan in a blurry attempt to relieve myself of whatever libations I had partaken of the previous night.

Absinthe as I recollect, although that may have been a previous night. No. Certainly it was last night, the bitter aftertaste of the wormwood still supporting a waxy coating on the back of my tongue. Most unusual properties, the absinthe, in providing a marked increase in euphoria on ingestion, but a most unappealing after effect on the body the following day, with a trembling and disorientation most unusual as compared to the other more standard digestifs we men are wont to partake of while in amicable groups.

Finishing the ill attempt at what would normally be the thought free endeavor of relieving my bladder, I slowly and methodically finished dressing in my kit and headed downstairs to have a bit of much needed breakfast, thinking vaguely that this may assist my plight.

There was not long to wait. Entering the breakfast nook, I spied upon the table and laid out in the finery befitting a rank of gentleman which, to be truthful, I was certainly not but aspired to be, a lovely breakfast of kippers, boiled eggs with salmon, scones and jam. My maidservant Miss Lillian stood by, hot kettle in her hand and filling up the waiting tea cup with piping hot water.

"Good day!" I exclaimed, more gregariously than I actually felt, for while the smell of the food perked me up substantially, it was not enough to erase the overall lethargy I was still feeling due to the overabundance I had partaken of the night before. Lillian responded in kind, and I realized quite painfully that the sound of another human's boisterous reply was enough to set my teeth on edge and start a throbbing in the front area of my brain.

"G'day, Mister! Oy, and ain't is a lovely one!?"

"Yes, yes, certainly..." I trailed off, looking down at the floor to rest my eyes from the sudden and violent attack of pain I was experiencing.

"Hmm, yes, might I have some of that tea, would be most nourishing."

"Oy, yes sir of course sir!" She finished pouring the tea and then pulled out the chair at the head of the table for me, looking at me expectantly. "Sir?"

"Ah, yes, thank you Lillian." I sat.

"Sir, if I might says, you are not lookin' keenly this morning, is there anything I can get apart from what is already before yeh?" She began to loosen her apron strings.

"Oh my, to be honest I am feeling quite shagged from last nights soiree with Dr. _______ and his lovely new bride, and a spot of tea should do nicely just now."

Lillian continued to pull her apron off, then began to unbutton her top shift. "If yeh don't mind me sayin', sir, I think you need some nuzzling." And with that she pulled her top down over her shoulders exposing a most magnificent full bosom to my intrigued eye, the flesh of her great mammaries supple and smooth. She moved slightly side to side, and the pendulous orbs followed in suit, swaying gently before her, the nipples sitting like tiny dumplings on sweet pink custard cups, tracing parabolas in the cool air before her.

"My goodness, Lillian, we have spoken of such things so many times, have we not?" I was cross with her certainly, as this behavior had occurred on many occasions, but not for several months past. "Really, I thought we were making such progress, and your attention and control were coming along so splendidly."

She then stopped swaying and stood still, her pendulous breasts firming slightly in the cool morning air, the nipples full and pink and round. "I...know, sir, yes I readily do. I cannot fathom what has come over me to do this to you, when you have been so kind and provisional, why certainly I am a lowly 'or to have displayed myself so forthrightly to your sir."

It certainly was not acceptable. Lillian, I am sad and regretful to say, was one of the wards of a most upright and Christian program developed for the unfortunate denizens of a worker underclass, a group of invalids known hardly if at all to the respectable society of London. While blessed by God with a normal appearance of full awareness and lucidity, in combination with intelligence of speech and memory, yet in actuality this underbelly caste possessed severely limited wits and an inability to fend intelligently for even the most basic of human needs for which money is often the sole method of procurement. Due to this, these hardscrabble individuals must likely revert to the basest of methods to survive.

For the men, there is rarely anything other than a sordid life of petty thievery followed by an inevitable incarceration, mainly due to their lack of intelligence in successfully planning and executing even the most rudimentary crime. Their complete lack of wits leaves little other outcome than this dismal end, locked up for years often, only to be released and captured again for the same inept crime, many times just days later.

The women of this disabled group on the other hand, unfortunately, almost always enter willingly due to their limited intelligence, into what women have been known for since the time of the apple and serpent in the garden of Eden. As some would call it 'the oldest profession', there but for the pleasure of the men in their presence taking full advantage of the limited capabilities of these poor women's intellect, the lasses unable to apply even a basic Christian sensibility as relates to the sanctity of one's body. The general gullibility of this side of the equation, moreover, allows that in many instances the remuneration of the said act will not go to the 'pimpo' who is the agent of said individual, but where a reasonably intelligent man can convince the topic at hand that the favors delivered are in fact of a respectable sort, why then the women themselves perform the deliverable in its entirety, then go unpaid and thus rendering the situation even more deplorable.

To clarify my position to the reader, I must reflect now that my feelings on the matter above vary somewhat from the generalization of women being, as is so often surmised, at the sole disposal of men, and declare now my caveat in order to not confuse any readers, of my attitude towards the opposite sex and the workings of society.

While I do think of myself as a liberal minded gentleman of these Victorian times, and have heard even rumblings of a suffragette movement, still the very idea that women would someday have the vote, really I can hardly fathom such a thing. As the motto goes, a woman's place is in the home, and while I would not subscribe to this overly rote saying completely, for after all there may very well be some opportunities for women in the workplace (away from men so as not to create untoward distractions from that efficiency of production of course) I would most assuredly back some type of program in which to harness the energy and dynamism that only the weaker sex can bring to the situation. Oh my! I have just done it again, professing the greatness of a concept while undermining it with my own inherent and limiting attitudes! I shall surely mind this better in the future.

The rambling intellectual distraction I was having with myself on this topic would have driven me quite mad on such a morning, mired in such a lucubratory conflict while the essence of the devils poison sweated out of my physic, were it not again for the issue at hand, that of Miss Lillian and her plight. I had spent many months in the garden of her well being, carefully pruning her ill actions, snipping the deadheads and wandering tendrils of inappropriateness, seeking to form her slowly from a shrubby tangle of disparate behaviors to a gathering stem of lovely roses (albeit not completely bereft of thorns!) sprouting upwards with only the most healthy growth blossoming forth in abundance.

Sincerely, that was my plan and it had been working quite successfully. There was the odd moment out when prior behavior or lack of wit would manifest itself through the sudden relapse such as exhibited this morning, often with the baring of her soft and giving bosom.

Nonetheless, my approach was sound, and I had been fastidiously tracking the modulations of success throughout, with many notebooks of observations and scientific reflections locked away securely in my study, some even with illustrations. At some point in the not too distant future, I daresay I shall publish these findings for the greater betterment of the people of England, and perhaps other locales in the greater globe who may be faced with the same unfortunates and their wicked plight.

Alas though, it was time to deal with the issue at hand, and the sooner the better, as the saying goes, for it had been my experience with Lillian that to delay in corrective behavior was to move exponentially away from the cure. Much like a small dog or child who will act out in a contrary way to normal expectations of decency or tact, if the corrective behavior is delayed, the association with the act being addressed will begin to lose the correlating connection, and the association of punishment to the crime becomes muddied and in the worst case lost. Wherein, then it stands that the punishment, to the recipient of it at least, stands solely to serve itself. This situation where pain becomes the conduit thru which love enters into a soul, I believe truly with all my being, is the devils work and should be avoided at all costs.

I had initially feared that with Lillian such was the case, a personality bereft of dignity and degraded to the point where punishment was an end unto itself. Through specific exhibited behaviors it seemed to me, at the time, that she was in essence pursuing a corporal response through her actions, actions which any decent right minded individual would certainly know was amoral and unacceptable. After many months of observation and exhaustive corrective behavior, it became apparent to me that she had not the wits or inclination to plan out or enjoy even any such intricate responses that would result in punishment of any kind, much less coordinate how to derive any specific reward from that activity.

Her case then was a challenging one in that her intelligence was so low that she could not possibly improve without rote reminders and correction. In point of fact though she was most sincerely beyond any type of guile or intrigue, and that indeed made the regimen of reform that much more amazing and professionally fulfilling, to see the progress made over the weeks and months, even despite the occasional setback.

I will confess that her complete honesty and openness to every situation combined with her magnificent feminine form could and did lead even the most upright gentlemen to extend past the reaches of scientific observation, as exemplified by several of her tales relayed to me during our research sessions. But, in keeping with the mantra of even the lowest scientific auteur, my science is and always has been one of dispassionate observation and testing, keeping at all times aloof from the subject at hand, merely recording the variations apparent in the subject of study.

"Miss Lillian? I have a few questions for you. Bring me my notebook."

She paced out of the room, breasts swaying out proudly from the sides of her open shift, then shortly returned with a leather bound tome and inkwell with pen. Setting it before me, I spread it out on the table along with the kippers and eggs.

"Sir?"

"Stand there and wait while I prepare, please."

I proceeded to enjoy a very lovely breakfast, basking in the glow of her fantastical orbs while I carefully peeled away the bones of the kipper and sampled the salmoned eggs. With a final sip of tea several minutes later I was ready to begin the session with my subject. Miss Lillian had stood not moving for the entire time, her nipples cold and erect. I have always felt that it is important, nay imperative, that a subject understand nature's hierarchy as relates to the interaction of the subject and observer, and the sooner these roles are established the more reasonable and reliable the outcome will be. Having Lillian stand before me, powerless with her vast womanly bosom exposed to my gaze was just such a means to the end of which I speak.

"Miss Lillian. You have erred greatly this morning in baring your plentiful bosom to me."

"Yes, sir, I am sorry..."

"No! Please do not make it worse by apologizing. I am not some weeping violet that has hurt feelings in the matter, I am here to facilitate the contortion of your soul into something resembling a normal and upstanding lass. Is the assumption of success an error on my part, ma'am?"

She looked at the ground, and watched her toe arc a line across the floor in front of her.

"Well..."

"Please Miss Lillian, do proceed, there are no secrets here."

I readied my nib over the fine paper of the notebook and waited for her to continue. This was a key aspect of my study, to take extensive notes of all her discussions in order to be able to formally review them at a later date. As I have said, I had many such notes locked in my study currently, and often reviewed and researched them in order to check back on progress as well as extrapolate potential improvements.

"As to whether I can be a normal and upstanding lass, why sir, yes sir I most assuredly do want to be that, oh yes."

"You sound skeptical."

"Why sir, it's just that, before I was able to join your kind sir here in this lovely home," she spread her hands in front of her, "why there was a time or two that I may have not been so...ladylike."

"A time or two?"

She hesitated. "Many times truth be told, sir."

"Yes?"

"Yes many times, indeed."

I set my pen down. "It would assist me greatly if you can recount such an instance," I asked firmly. "Perhaps a time where you were presented with the opportunity to..." I thought briefly then decided upon the subject that did indeed interest me as of late, "...a time where you were present at an encounter where a gentleman's priapus was actively entertained with your mouth, perhaps?"

She looked at me with complete sincerity, no trace whatsoever of anything resembling hesitation in her witless face. "Oh yes, certainly sir, I have done such a thing, many times indeed!"

"Please tell me of one of those occurrences, perhaps where the Priapus in question was larger than most, or perhaps more aggressive than most."

"Or both?"

"Why yes, certainly!" I picked up my pen hastily and rewet my nib, impatient to transcribe the complete tale.

She began. "As you know, before I was here with your kind sir I was a ward of the Holy Order of Wayward Souls, a most Christian group of caring women who would help the poor and destitute such as myself, providing food and shelter when we was down on our luck. I have told you of how I started up a relation with these lovely women in our past discussion I am most sure, although I do not particularly recollect the actual words of the conversation."

"Just so Miss Lillian, there is no need to recount that tale." I would have to revisit those notes later on for a full recollection, although the foundation of the tale was most assuredly engraved upon my psyche, involving several bottles of sherry in a carriage along with a pair of prominent city elders, and three very active female members of the Wayward Souls.

"Very well, Sir. Surely when I was in my terrible straights, it were a very low time for me, as my husband god rest his soul had departed this earth after a bout with a stomach ailment that laid him so low he ended up a dyin'. For me, luckless lass that I were, there was little to do but keep on living in a world that ere I never knew, for my man had taken care of everything. All I had to do was cook the food he brought home and bend over for his pleasure when he wanted me to."

"And how often was that, may I ask?"

"Bless his departed soul, at least a few times a day. He'd put his dicky inside me and reach around and play with me jubblies, loved that he did, would tug on them mercilessly like milking a cow, as they were a hangin' down so low over my shift due to their size, y'see."

"I do see."

"He'd pinch my nips and tug on them as well, all while making his dicky go in and out of me as hard as he could. Then he'd growl and push so hard up inside me sometimes it'd hurt, and his seed would spill inside me, leaving me to clean up the white stuff that would come later out of my cunny."

"Hmmm." I shifted in my seat to get more comfortable, my pen finishing up scripting the last words she spoke. "Let's remain with our attention to the tale of the Priapus that we so recently had begun, shall we?"

"Oy, yes sir. I was a wandering waif, and had many odd experiences that would likely be considered ripe for entry to the Wayward Souls, but the tale which we are talkin' about actually happened once I had been already introduced to them people.

"I won't discuss the extremes that landed me at the door of the Souls at 27A Bigpole Street, but there I were a knockin' on the door when a tall handsome man opened up and allowed me to come inside. It were a beautiful place this, and I could not believe my fortune as I proceeded to tell him the whole tale of my travels to this point and how I were so very glad to have made it to the safety of the place.

"He listened most intently, and then introduced himself as Mr._______, and that he was going to assist me with an orientation of the house but that this would also be a test to become a sister of the Wayward Souls. I am not so smart as to take a test and pass, so I told him I might not excel at this exam of which he was wont to give, but he assured me that if I tried my hardest he would make sure I was accepted into the group.

"With that he most kindly took my hand and let me to the foyer in the first hallway, where the stairs to the rest of the upper stories was, for it was a big house this. He told me that the only way to tell if I was a devout disciple would be to test my resolve and stamina, and asked whether I agreed. I most certainly did, for I had no other idea of how to pass this test for my brain is not strong but I am very much in well health. In truth, I have often heard men proclaim even in the street about my robustiness."

I smiled inwardly at her obliviousness to the thinly disguised assessment of these men about her remarkable physique. "Continue, please."

"Well, he took my hand and held it as he told me one of the primary ways they tested initiates involved checking the stamina of the mouth, and that to him it looked like my mouth could indeed pass this test. I readily agreed, at which point he said 'In that case Miss Lillian, I will ask you to hold a spoon in your mouth in each room of this house. If you can do this, you will be a member of the sisters and enjoy all the privileges that the other sisters enjoy.' It sounded very simple, and I nodded earnestly in agreement. He continued, 'By the end of the test, your mouth will be very tired for this is a very large house, and I have a very large spoon.'

"This was very exciting news for me, for I knew I should be able to do this, having on several different occasions heard remarked that my mouth was strong enough to take the finish off of a flagpole.

"Then Mr. ______ checked his pockets, and sadly realized he did not have a spoon after all. 'My dear, I cannot keep you waiting nor have you put out of sorts to call another day, we will surely just have to improvise our lack of utensil. While it is not my preferred method, how about we propose using this?' And with that he unzipped his trowsers and pulled out a very sizeably growing priapus.