| Author: | Doctor MC, Mad Scientist | ISBN: | 9781938293108 |
| Publisher: | Hypo To Helio Books | Publication: | September 23, 2013 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Doctor MC, Mad Scientist |
| ISBN: | 9781938293108 |
| Publisher: | Hypo To Helio Books |
| Publication: | September 23, 2013 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
A mysterious man, VietVetElecEngnr51, has uploaded plans for something called a "hypno-talker" to a pirate site that Odysseus Popeil visits. Odysseus ("Oddy") is curious whether the hypno-talker lives up to its claims, but nobody else wants to try it and report back. Everyone else on the internet is convinced that the hypno-talker is a fraud.
Meanwhile, Oddy has real problems at work. The new owner, Ms. Olson, is on a rampage to fire or to hamstring all the men in her company. Oddy gets demoted, then he overhears Ms. Olson and the Personnel Director plotting to frame Oddy with child porn.
Oddy is desperate to keep his job and his good reputation. But what can one desperate man do?
By the way, this story parodies a well-known cartoon character and his associates.
This is the second story in the Hypno-Talkers Of Zlar series.
Tags: alien invasion, aliens, conspiracy, erotica, female virgin, humor, hypnosis, male dominant, male-female, MC, MD, MF, mind control, oral sex, parody, submissive female, workplace sex
PUBLISHER'S NOTE: All ebooks by this publisher are free of DRM (Digital Rights Meddling).
The beginning of the 71-page, 17,200-word story:
Omaha, Nebraska
Monday Morning
Everyone who knows me, calls me “Oddy.” No, it’s not an insult, it’s the short version of my name, Odysseus. Theoretically, Arnie Bluteau and Janice Wellington should call me “Mr. Popeil,” since I am Information Technology Supervisor for Fleischer Transport, and thus their boss. But nope, Arnie and Janice call me “Oddy” too. We’re relaxed that way.
At the moment, the three of us were listening as Mr. Fleischer gave his last speech to his employees.
Since there was no one room in Fleischer Transport that could contain all us employees, the ceremony was being held in the parking lot.
Which means that I was wearing my “driving” bifocal glasses instead of my “reading” bifocal glasses. An optometrist could tell them apart, but to anybody else, they’re glasses with big, black, dorky-looking frames. Don’t ever get pinkeye.
“. . .From the bottom of my heart, I thank you all,” Mr. Fleischer was saying. “It has been your hard work and your dedication, each one of you, that has made Fleischer Transport an organization that people want to do business with. Over and over, you have made me proud.”
I murmured just loud enough for Arnie and Janice to hear, “The guy isn’t even gone yet, and I miss him already. He made every one of us employees feel like a king.”
Arnie murmured back, “Fleischer paid us like a king, too. Think the new lady is going to keep our great salaries?”
Janice shrugged. “We’ll find out, soon enough.”
Soon Mr. Fleischer finished his speech, to whistles and long applause. Then he stepped aside as the new owner, Olivia Olson, stepped to the podium.
I muttered, “Well, at least she’ll be nice to look at.” Ms. Olson was a brunette with her hair in a bun, which was the same color and hairstyle that one of my long-ago babysitters had worn. Okay, fine, I have a unusual fetish, which Olivia Olson just happened to hit.
Arnie nodded. “Oh, yeah. Check out her skirt. Long skirts do it for me.”
Janice whispered, “Are you two crazy? Look at her! Flat-chested, she’s skinny, she has no curves at all. Worse, she’s in her thirties.”
Such a description was every way different from Janice’s own. Natural-blond Janice had worked as a Hooter’s waitress when she’d been twenty-two—but that was five years and thirty pounds ago.
Now I grinned at Janice. “I think you’re jealous.”
“Pfft.”
“Then say something nice about how she looks.”
“I like her pearl earrings.”
“That’s it?”
Janice said, “Guys, she’s looking at us. I think she wants us to shut up.”
Indeed, Ms. Olson was still standing at the podium, giving her speech. But her eyes were looking daggers at the three of us.
But I must tell you that, however much I enjoyed looking at Ms. Olson, her speech was painful to listen to. Olivia Olson has a screechy voice.
A mysterious man, VietVetElecEngnr51, has uploaded plans for something called a "hypno-talker" to a pirate site that Odysseus Popeil visits. Odysseus ("Oddy") is curious whether the hypno-talker lives up to its claims, but nobody else wants to try it and report back. Everyone else on the internet is convinced that the hypno-talker is a fraud.
Meanwhile, Oddy has real problems at work. The new owner, Ms. Olson, is on a rampage to fire or to hamstring all the men in her company. Oddy gets demoted, then he overhears Ms. Olson and the Personnel Director plotting to frame Oddy with child porn.
Oddy is desperate to keep his job and his good reputation. But what can one desperate man do?
By the way, this story parodies a well-known cartoon character and his associates.
This is the second story in the Hypno-Talkers Of Zlar series.
Tags: alien invasion, aliens, conspiracy, erotica, female virgin, humor, hypnosis, male dominant, male-female, MC, MD, MF, mind control, oral sex, parody, submissive female, workplace sex
PUBLISHER'S NOTE: All ebooks by this publisher are free of DRM (Digital Rights Meddling).
The beginning of the 71-page, 17,200-word story:
Omaha, Nebraska
Monday Morning
Everyone who knows me, calls me “Oddy.” No, it’s not an insult, it’s the short version of my name, Odysseus. Theoretically, Arnie Bluteau and Janice Wellington should call me “Mr. Popeil,” since I am Information Technology Supervisor for Fleischer Transport, and thus their boss. But nope, Arnie and Janice call me “Oddy” too. We’re relaxed that way.
At the moment, the three of us were listening as Mr. Fleischer gave his last speech to his employees.
Since there was no one room in Fleischer Transport that could contain all us employees, the ceremony was being held in the parking lot.
Which means that I was wearing my “driving” bifocal glasses instead of my “reading” bifocal glasses. An optometrist could tell them apart, but to anybody else, they’re glasses with big, black, dorky-looking frames. Don’t ever get pinkeye.
“. . .From the bottom of my heart, I thank you all,” Mr. Fleischer was saying. “It has been your hard work and your dedication, each one of you, that has made Fleischer Transport an organization that people want to do business with. Over and over, you have made me proud.”
I murmured just loud enough for Arnie and Janice to hear, “The guy isn’t even gone yet, and I miss him already. He made every one of us employees feel like a king.”
Arnie murmured back, “Fleischer paid us like a king, too. Think the new lady is going to keep our great salaries?”
Janice shrugged. “We’ll find out, soon enough.”
Soon Mr. Fleischer finished his speech, to whistles and long applause. Then he stepped aside as the new owner, Olivia Olson, stepped to the podium.
I muttered, “Well, at least she’ll be nice to look at.” Ms. Olson was a brunette with her hair in a bun, which was the same color and hairstyle that one of my long-ago babysitters had worn. Okay, fine, I have a unusual fetish, which Olivia Olson just happened to hit.
Arnie nodded. “Oh, yeah. Check out her skirt. Long skirts do it for me.”
Janice whispered, “Are you two crazy? Look at her! Flat-chested, she’s skinny, she has no curves at all. Worse, she’s in her thirties.”
Such a description was every way different from Janice’s own. Natural-blond Janice had worked as a Hooter’s waitress when she’d been twenty-two—but that was five years and thirty pounds ago.
Now I grinned at Janice. “I think you’re jealous.”
“Pfft.”
“Then say something nice about how she looks.”
“I like her pearl earrings.”
“That’s it?”
Janice said, “Guys, she’s looking at us. I think she wants us to shut up.”
Indeed, Ms. Olson was still standing at the podium, giving her speech. But her eyes were looking daggers at the three of us.
But I must tell you that, however much I enjoyed looking at Ms. Olson, her speech was painful to listen to. Olivia Olson has a screechy voice.
