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.Stopover in a little louder town	By : keithcompany Category: S through Z > The Twilight Zone Views: 2465 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight Zone or any characters or settings from the show. I make no profit from this fanfic.

Chapter List
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Practice was mostly a formality. They were competition-ready when Carl grabbed them and they hadn't lost their edges. The pool was next to a rec center that had a gym and mats. After about half an hour there, Lisa said there was no point in working up more sweat and called an end to practice.
Jackie and Fiona jogged back to the houses to see to April and Petra. The others wandered around the mini-town, looking to see what there was to see.
Leslie headed off alone with her thoughts. She was conflicted. She was thinking about spanking.
For some reason, she'd always been drawn to powerful men. Not business leaders or men in uniform. Friends had noticed that her tastes in men resembled an enthusiasm for mountain climbing. They assumed she was after big dicks.
She just wanted to be held by strong arms. Raw physical power drew her, made her feel protected. Wanted. She could let herself relax around someone powerful. What she really wanted was to be picked up and held. Unfortunately, she stood five foot ten and there weren't too many candidates. So she sought options.
Leslie tried many forms of power, trying to find strength in a variety of men, a variety of ways. Spanking was close. But the boys she dated in college failed miserably. They slapped her a couple of times with a rolled up newspaper and giggled, as if saying, 'look, look, we're being all kinky and shit!'
And nothing ended a relationship faster than the five seconds right after, "No, I want you to hit me THIS hard!"
One man beat her like she wanted. He got her very close to a happy place. But he was a misogynist. He tried to hurt her in the foreplay, and he approached the rest of the relationship the same way.
As she wandered the streets, looking at storefronts, she kept thinking about Petra. And about Carl.
She certainly wasn't happy about being kidnapped, or being a pet. But the image of Petra being stripped just would not go away. He hadn't said he forced her to undress herself. And she could only wonder at how such huge fingers managed. Maybe he used scissors. Or a knife?
The idea of being in such hands thrilled her in a way she'd never imagined. Overwhelmed, wholly at his mercy. She couldn't hold anything back from him. She could show him the real Leslie.
She had almost balked at donating clothes to Petra's release, hoping that Carl would reach down and strip her. But Fiona would have been the one at the zipper.
She shook her head and grabbed the door of a building. She'd selected it at random, not even trying to figure out what it was supposed to be. It didn't matter, really. She was just marking time until it was dark, and she could make her own escape attempt.
"Don't go there," Carl's voice said from some place near her. Ohmigod! He was telepathic? Her hand tightened on the door handle. "There's something wrong with that store," he went on. "I'll have to fix the floor. It's dangerous. But there's nothing in there, anyway."
"Oh. Uh. Thank you, Carl."
"It's okay, Leslie. I should have made the place safe before I put you guys here."
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that would have been nice."
"Well, if you're looking for something, maybe I can help you find it?"
"Just looking around. Trying to see what all's here." She looked up and down the street. No one else was in sight. Across the street was a large office building. "Is that safe?"
"Yeah, why?"
She jogged over and went inside. The stairs lead up to the top floor. It was all empty space, but there was a decent view of Pleasantville. She talked as she walked around the windows, looking out. "I, uh, just felt like being closer to you, you know?"
"Really? Well, that's flattering. Is there something you wanted?"
"Carl….?" She paused, trying to work up the nerve to ask him. And trying to figure out what to ask him. He waited patiently. "Carl, what did you do to Petra?"
"I caught her trying to escape."
"Yeah," she said. "But what did you do to her?"
"I stripped her and caged her. You saw that."
"Yeah, but… Could you tell me what you did? To her?" She leaned on the wall and slid down to the floor.
"Um. Okay. I caught her when she jumped the wall. Then held her up to my face and we talked. She swore that none of you knew about the escape." There was an odd sound and a sigh. Leslie realized that he was setting himself comfortably.
"Then I put her on the table and told her to take her clothes off. I figured she had broken the deal of the advance, you know?"
"Yes," Leslie said softly.
"So, I said if she wouldn't strip, I would strip her. And I did."
"How?"
"Rather directly, if you must know."
"No, no," she said. Her hands gestured vaguely. "Mechancially. How did…?"
"Oh. I got a pair of tweezers and took all her clothes away."
"Ah. She…fought you?"
"Technically, I suppose," he said. "Not that it mattered. She's okay, though. Physically. She was muttering something about 'he's real, he's real' a minute ago." Leslie nodded. She was silent for a bit.
"Carl, are you mad at Petra?" Now he was silent.
"Maybe a little. I guess."
"And April?"
"Not now. Not with the broken bone. But… Well, she did break the rule."
"I had six brothers and sisters," she said. "My dad used to operate on the Shit List theory."
"What's that?" He sounded genuinely curious. She smiled and relaxed a bit against the wall.
"See, whenever anyone pissed him off, they went on the List. And there was only room for one person on the List. If Dad needed extra help moving stuff, he got the person on the list. If a neighbor wanted help mucking out the barn, Dad went to the List. If a dead cow had to be hauled out of the ditch…"
"I think I get it," Carl said. He sounded like he was smiling. "How long did you stay on the List?"
"The rule was that you were on it until Dad wasn't mad at you any more. In practice you were on it until someone pissed him off more. Then they bumped you off the list."
"And you're suggesting I only be mad at one girl at a time," he said. "And… I think you're volunteering to bump the other two off The List?"
"Yes…" she whispered.
"Huh. Let's talk about this." A shadow crossed the window, then the room got bright. When she looked, a wall was missing. A hand hovered across from the hole, palm waiting invitingly.
Leslie jumped to her feet and scurried over.
The hand swept straight up into the air. Leslie spread herself flat on the palm and waited for her stomach to catch up.
There was no sensation as she pass through the sky. One second she was under a bright blue field, then she was in a dark space. A long way away a giant face was lit from below. She realized the light was from Pleasantville.
He must dim the lights like a theater, she thought, to see us. Then he was holding her before his face. She lost track of the details of his expression. The eye seemed to pin her in place.
The voices of the other girls carried up to her clearly from inside the doll-town. Some had seen Carl's arm and they were trying to figure out what he'd been doing. Who he'd grabbed.
He ignored them and sat down. She rocked back and forth a bit in his hand as he did. One finger of his free hand floated into view, fingertip resting a few feet away from her.
"So, you want me to be mad at you?" he asked. He was whispering, but it was still like being onstage at a pep rally.
"No," she said. "Not really." She rolled to a sitting position, leaning back against the bottom knuckle of his middle finger. "I just don't want you to be mad at the others."
"Really. You're just here to be…what? A pinch hitter? I get mad, you entertain me, the one I'm mad at goes free?"
"Kind of," she said. She shrugged. "I guess. I don't know what I want."
"I think you do. For one thing, you were very interested in my stripping of Petra. Do you want to strip Petra for me?"
"God, no!" she shouted. Then covered her mouth. "I mean. No. No, that's not what I… I wasn't thinking of that."
"Uh huh. Then what?"
"I want… I want you to take my clothes off of me."
"Ah." His finger left. "I can do this." Metal tweezers slid into Leslie's view. They reminded her of evil robots in scifi movies, with lances longer than a flagpole. The part from the hinge was nearly as wide as his fingers, then there was a sudden taper.
The business end was about the size of her entire arm, bent about 45 degrees and came to two points. Point being a relative term, the ends were a little bit sharper than her fists.
"Lay back, little one," he said. The points touched gently against her upper left arm. She tried not to flinch. He shoved both of them up the sleeve of her t-shirt. Then he simply stopped pressing the sides together. The spring action of the arms spread them apart, shredding her t-shirt. The tear opened her shirt between the arm and her collar.
He did the same thing to the other side. Then he eased the shirt down her torso. He nudged her left, then her right, alternating until the shirt was rucked around her waist.
He worked the points under the front of her athletic bra and raised it up. When she started to hear the fabric pop, he let the points split once more. The bra snapped clean open. One point grazed her nipple as it did. She hissed.
He froze, looking down at her carefully. "Are you hurt?" he asked.
"No," she assured him, realizing that it was true. It had been surprise more than pain.
He nodded and went on. The points pinched her shoes off. He left them open and touched either side of her left thigh. Then stroked them up her leg to just touch the hem of her shorts. He paused.
'"Your shorts are too short," he said. "I'm afraid that if I try to split the sides like I did the sleeves, one tip is going to end up in your… In you."
"Eugh!" she said. Leslie looked down at the fairly-blunt metal end. Then she pushed her thumbs into her shorts at the waist. She slowly lifted her behind off of his skin, watching him for any sign of disapproval. Then she slid the shorts down until they circled the ends of the tweezers.
He smiled and popped them open. They repeated it for the other leg. Then he pinched her by the foot between two fingers. He lifted her into the air and shook very, very gently. Her scraps of clothing fell off and away.
Then he put her back on his hand. "How was that?"
"That was…Oh, God!" she gushed. "That was everything I ever wanted. You could… You're so… Oh. My. God!" She started talking. She told him about her need for power. Her search for powerful lovers.
She told him things she'd never told anyone, and once she was on a roll told him things she'd never admitted to herself. He held her in a hand that could squash her like a mosquito, even by accident, and he listened. All that power, held in abeyance, waiting on her.
Leslie had thought she'd wanted Superman. Pffft. This guy could eat the son of Krypton.
"So. You just want attention, not punishment?" She nodded. "But…what if the punishment is what I find entertaining?" His fingertip pushed her over, face down over a bump in his palm. Her bare ass poked up into the air. "What if I really think someone deserves a spanking?" The finger stroked her, gently for him. Her body was ground into his skin.
"Oh, oh, no! You'd kill me! I'd be a bloody smear!"
"Yeah," he said. "Something like that."
"Is… Carl, sir, is this a good time to discuss a safety word?"
He laughed, not bothering to soften his voice. She cringed. "That would put you in charge."
"No, not in charge. It just means if you go too far for me…"
"Why would that matter?" he asked. "There's me, and there's what I want. Everything else is just meaningless." The hand left. It came back with a strangely shaped box. "There's a game they play with their humans on Shar. Heads, I eat you. Tails I don't."
"Eek!"
"Yeah, I dislike those odds. I can't play it too often with only twelve pets. So I have this. I roll this die. If your number comes up, I eat you. There's twenty sides, here. Pick a number."
"No!"
"Okay, I pick for you. We'll go with…. One. You're my first." With that, he popped her into his mouth.
"Nooooooooo!" She tumbled across his tongue. He moved her body to the front where his lips were just barely parted.
"Quiet down," he mumbled.
"You didn't roll!"
"Diff if how da game if played. You fit dere, and liften." There was a rattle. "Two. Not one. I don't fwawow."
"That means I'm safe? Let me out!" She tried to wriggle through his lips.
"Beft of free," he said.
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Carl's tongue stroked gently along her body, pushing her against the back of his lips. She bit down a scream and clutched his skin. She kept her head at the tiny opening, waiting out her fate.
Leslie was worried about suffocating in his breath until she realized he was only breathing in. Every out-breath went through his nose. He was taking care to keep her alive. She started to smile.
Carl's tongue forced it's way between her thighs and mashed her against the rubbery surface. Then again, she thought, maybe he's just making sure I don't pass out and miss any of this
After he was through exploring her, he rolled the die again. "Uh Whenty! Dann, guwl. I 'evuh woll a Whenty. Ang hon."
She was swept from his lips and tucked into one cheek. The darkness was disorienting but there was no mistaking the barrel-sized teeth she was pressing against. He swallowed the built-up saliva, popping her ears in the process. Then he separated his teeth and opened his lips.
She crawled through the slimy cave to get to fresh air again.
"One wast ime!" he said. Finally, an end, one way or another. She heard the clatter, tried to force her head out enough to see. "Oh oh."
"Oh oh WHAT!?" she shouted. He lifted the shape up to his lips.
"It landed on uh Wun," he said. The number hung there outside his mouth. She gulped.
"Oh…okay. Make it quick, please?" She closed her eyes and hugged her arms to her chest. His tongue winkled her out from next to his gums, flexed…. And deposited her on his palm. She looked around in fear. Was this part of the game? Was he going to salt her?
"I said, it landed on the one. The number 15 was on the top." He paused and lifted her up right next to his eye. "Do you guys play the number on top or the number on the bottom?"
"TOP!" she screamed. "TOP! Top, top, top, top, top!"
"Okay," he said. He lowered her from that overwhelming face. She thought she saw a grin, but it was hard to tell. A bulb showed up, much like the one that bandaged April's leg. This one squirted water, though.
He sprayed her from head to toe. Whatever else was in the water, it broke down the saliva and spread it away. Soon she was clean, if naked and cold. She spread out in his hand, soaking up the heat from his skin.
"Okay. Yeah, that was entertaining. It worked, Leslie. I'm not mad at April or even Petra any more. Everyone can have their clothes back. I'll even replace yours and Petra's." He thought for a second. She just relaxed. After the tension of almost being eaten, the stay of execution was making her a bit giddy. But the memory of slithering for her life was looming large in her mind. She still felt sticky.
"In fact," he finally said, "that was so much fun…"
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Bree and Kate were sitting on the porch. They'd scrounged some paper and a pencil and were trying to make a map of Pleasantville. Both heard the sound.
"Lawn mower?" Bree asked.
"I don't know…" Kate replied. They stood, walked to the curb and looked around.
A go-cart came into view and zoomed up the street. Leslie drew up to the front of her driveway and stopped. She sat there for a second.
"Where did you find that?" Bree asked. "Are there any more?"
"Not yet," Leslie said. She climbed out of the cart. "I, uh, found Carl in a generous mood. He thinks I can come back and earn eleven more. Maybe."
"Are you okay?" Kate asked. "You look a little…spacey?"
"Oh, I'm fine," she assured her. "I just… You guys can play with the cart. I have to… I have to go take a couple of showers."
They watched her walk into the house, then looked at each other. "I know she's got a reputation," Kate said, "but do you think it's possible she…"
"Finished her quest for the biggest dick in the Universe?" Bree finished. "No." She turned back to the cart. "She'd be walking funny if she had."
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Two weeks after they woke up in the Pleasantville Jail, everyone was about tired of cheers. Even Carl. "It's nothing you guys are doing," he apologized. "It's just not that interesting any more."
"Sure," Donna said. "Even spectacle gets boring after you stare at it long enough."
"Of course," his voice went on, drifting around the living room, "you guys could perform it naked."
"Yes," Fiona said. "And after a while, you'd be bored of watching us perform naked."
"And probably," Jackie added, "bored of looking at our naked bodies."
"Oh. I don't think that's worth risking," he demurred.
"Games?" Meg offered. "Something that changes, that keeps us occupied, might even be interactive for you?"
"What do you have in mind?" Lisa asked.
"Well, we have five go-carts. We could have races. Down the road, up the parking garage, down the exit ramp, across Main, into the alley behind the butcher's… And we could have prizes. Points in the Carl Catalog. Winners get to buy things. Losers have to do something else for Carl."
"Interesting," he said. "What else?"
"We need another go-cart," April said. She turned to Leslie. "If you earn a sixth, we could have teams of two drivers."
"I… Okay. I'll, uh…"
"I'll pick you up out front in half an hour," Carl said. "I have things to do first."
"Alright!" she said, forcibly chipper. Lisa suggested that everyone think of other games to play with or against Carl and they split up.
Kate went off to look at the map some more. She felt someone behind her and turned to find Leslie. "Hi?"
"Kate, you're smart, right?"
"Um. Yeah, I guess."
"Do you know anything about…gambling? I'm… I have a few questions."
"Like what?" Kate moved to the kitchen table and gestured for the other girl to take a seat.
"Well. Say you have to pick a number. And it's one out of twenty numbers."
"Twenty in a row?"
"Yeah. One through twenty on the sides of a box."
"Like a D20. Yeah. Are you thinking of making a casino? That's an interesting thought. But it'd be easier to use D6 because all the odds are worked out."
"Odds! That's what I want to know. What are the odds of getting one number out of twenty?"
"One in twenty," Kate said quickly. "That's the answer. That's a chance of five percent," Kate said after a second. Leslie smiled.
"Oh. That's not too bad, then. Fiver percent. That's almost like impossible, huh?"
"No," Kate said after a moment. She was looking at Leslie's expression closely. "Impossible is like impossible. This is just unlikely. Why? What are you… What does Carl do to you? Are you gambling something for the go-carts?"
"Don’t worry about it," Leslie said firmly. "There's only a five percent chance of… I've got a ninety-five percent chance of winning."
"EACH time," Kate pointed out.
"You stressed that funny," Leslie said.
"Well, for each throw, that's a one in twenty chance. But over time, each outcome will average out the same way."
"Huh?"
"Well, if you throw the die four hundred times, you'd get twenty about…twenty times."
"Yeah. But what about the one?"
"You'd also get the one about twenty times. Not in a row, and you couldn't guess where any number would turn up, but over time they'd equal."
"Equal…" Leslie said slowly. "So… If I've rolled the die fifteen times. And twenty has come up five times. But one hasn't come up at all…."
"That's not impossible," Kate said. "But it's unlikely."
Forty minutes later, Carl spit Leslie out into his hand after the second roll. She sprawled naked on his palm and smiled up at him. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"I was going to ask you the same thing," he said. "You're hardly screaming, or protesting or beating me on the gums. What's wrong? Do you want to die?"
"You've been cheating," she said. She was still smiling. "You'd never, ever hurt me."
"I would, too! If the die ever-"
"The die doesn't matter." She stroked along one line in his palm, leaving a spit-slick trail over the ridges and creases. "It's real unlikely that you'd go this long without getting a single one."
"It's possible," he muttered.
"Look me in the eye," she said, "and tell me that you haven't rolled a one the entire time." He blinked at her. "Ha!"
"Okay, so you're safe and you know it. You can't act scared for a minute or two?"
"No," she admitted. "No, the whole reason I was drawn to you was that I feel safe in your hands. And now, I feel safe on your tongue."
"Damn. I was getting to like that. Well, I'll give you one more go-cart, a parting gift."
"I don't want to go," Leslie said with a shake of her head. "I'm happy here. Right here!" She slapped his hand beside her hip. "In your hands, an entire army couldn't hurt me. I'm so safe, I can show you me."
"What… What do you mean?" he asked.
She smiled and spread her legs. "All my guards are down. All my inhibitions, vaporized." Her hand stole down to her pussy and started to stroke her lips. She licked the forefinger of the other hand and started to rub her nipples.
"Oh," was all he said. But his breathing got faster.
"This is for you," she said. "While I'm here…" she moaned. "You dominate me." She fingered her clit. "Ah…ah…"
"Roll over," he said. She spun in place, face down over his life line. Her fingers still stroked her pussy and she ground herself against his palm. Her tongue lapped at him until she tried to bite him. She couldn't get anything between her teeth for a decent nip, and groaned in frustration.
A finger tip at her ass shoved her across his skin. Still covered in saliva, she slide easily and fetched up against the webbing between two fingers. She gnawed at him, hearing him hiss overhead. The finger stayed in place, stretching her legs impossibly wide. Her splayed fingers touched his fingertip. She felt his pulse, behind her and under her, a pervasive throbbing. She felt his power, his mass, his looming presence.
"Oh," she moaned. "Oh, oh, ooooooooh." Then she growled and bit him again. She felt loose, like she was watching herself from the side. She'd masturbated for lovers before, but never felt this connection to the man. To her master.
To her owner.
She moved her groin, pumping herself furiously. She was close, so close.
"This is for me," he said. "All for me and me alone." Then he chuckled. That voice did her in. The rumble came through the air and through his bones, shaking her to her very soul. Leslie screamed into his flesh and came. She clenched her legs against his finger but nothing moved. She couldn't even squeeze his fingertip.
She writhed, rubbing herself against him. He laughed and removed his finger. She relaxed. When he pushed at her hip, she rolled over and smiled up at him. They stared at each other for a moment. "Nice start," he said. "What do you have after warm-ups?"
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It was the very first time any of them had used Carl's announcing system. Everyone was interrupted by Leslie's voice asking for six people to meet her at the train station.
"I have seven go-carts," she said. "I need some drivers."
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.Stopover in a little louder town