PantyDeal
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A Dilbert Deal free porn video
This one sort of grew out of the 'deal with the devil' plot, and I couldn't help
but use my favorite devil, Phil from Dilbert.
Please take a moment and let me know what you think - your feedback
helps me improve my stories and choose themes for future works.
elrodw
***********************************************************
A Dilbert Deal
The clock ticked slowly, oh so slowly, toward quitting time. It was the
same agonizing process as it was every weekday. Some days it was sheer
torture lasting out the day - especially days like today. Nice warm spring
day - not too hot - with everything green and growing, a bright blue sky
and a few puffy clouds. And the students. The bitter cold of winter had
faded, and the ski parkas and heavy sweaters had given way to shorts, T-
shirts, and - better yet - halter tops and the occasional bikini. Outside, they
frolicked in the grass, playing Frisbee, sunning, and sometimes studying.
Larry Hanson sighed, for perhaps the fiftieth time in the past hour. Working
in the academic computation center was boring enough, but someone had,
knowingly or not, added a cruel sadistic twist to this otherwise hum-drum
job. Perhaps a dyed-in-the-wool techie could ignore the view out the
expansive windows, but to an average worker uninspired by the delight of
saving five machine instructions in a large intricate program, the panes
were a curse, a reminder that life existed happily outside these miserable
little offices.
Had Larry considered the fate of his contemporaries who didn't work in
academia, he might not have been so quick to condemn his life. After all,
he had never known the curse of cubicles, the pressure of impossible
deadlines, the ravages of decreasing budgets. And the windows? In most
jobs, such a view was reserved only for the top managers. Corporate
America just didn't let mid-level IT professionals have a scenic view of the
student quadrangle and fountain. All in all, Larry was lucky, even though
he didn't know it. But he was about to find out.
Finally, the clock ticked to 5. Larry was free, at least for the night.
But what freedom? Larry sat at home, watching a rerun of Baywatch,
drinking beer, and eating microwaved leftover pizza. Such was the fate of a
man like Larry who'd only recently broken up with his girlfriend. Larry
didn't understand it. He was reasonably attractive, wasn't he? (Ignoring, of
course, the receding hairline, a prelude to the premature baldness that ran
in his family, and the expanding waistline, aided in its growth by the beer
and pizza.) And he made good money, didn't he? Of course he was a good
catch. But the girls ignored him. What Larry didn't notice was that while
he had his eye on the coeds, they had their eyes on the jocks, the athletic
stars. To them, he was just another balding, fat campus computer techie.
Larry watched the bouncing breasts in the swimsuits, and daydreamed
about the girls in the campus quad. And the guys. How carefree they
seemed. Unlike him. "I wish I could trade places with them, sometimes."
A puff of smoke appeared between Larry and the TV. As Larry fanned the
smoke from his face, he saw a figure within the cloud doing the same. A
large, rotund figure, wearing what appeared to be a red jumpsuit with a
hood. With horns on the hood? Carrying a . spoon? And coughing as he
fanned the smoke from his own face. "I've simply got to quit doing that,"
the figure muttered to himself.
Larry was both annoyed and confused. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"And why are you interrupting Baywatch?"
"Why, I'm." the man started, then realized he was facing the wrong way.
He turned slowly, then spied Larry on the couch. "Why I'm Phil." He saw
Larry's blank expression. "Come on, you know! Phil. Prince of
Insufficient Light!" Larry's expression didn't change. Phil sighed. "Just
my luck to get the one guy who doesn't read Dilbert."
Larry shook his head. "I do read Dilbert. I must have missed you." Then
he realized what he was saying. "What kind of trick is this, anyway? And
who are you, really?"
Phil rolled his eyes, then shifted his spoon to his other hand. "I'm the
Prince of Insufficient Light."
"Like the devil?"
Phil's face flashed. "No, I am NOT the Prince of Darkness! That's my older
brother. He always was Mom's favorite." Phil cleared his features. "I'm
just a minor devil. Hence the `Insufficient Light' part of my title."
Larry listened with increasing disbelief. "So you're hear to convince me to
sell my soul?"
Phil smiled. "You're catching on, but I just rent. Better deal all around.
The futures market in souls just isn't what it used to be, what with the lying,
cheating, adultery, stealing. Even the politicians are outdoing themselves.
I lost my shirt on a couple of prominent Democrats last month. So I gave
up the buying and selling. Strictly rentals now."
"But."
Phil was getting impatient. "Look, you did make a wish, didn't you?"
Larry was impatiently leaning to see the TV around Phil's bulk. "Look, I'm
not interested. Okay? So bug off." Phil snorted, then waved his spoon and
vanished in an even larger puff of smoke, leaving Larry coughing.
"Whoever you are, that's a good trick. But leave me alone!" he called into
the spot Phil had been.
**********
Larry was working at his terminal, trying to undo the runaway script some
neophyte Unix user had loosed, when his boss came in. Larry glanced up
to confirm that it was indeed his boss, then did a double take. His boss had
- pointy hair? Larry rubbed his eyes. Yes, his boss now had pointy hair.
"Larry, I need a full budget projection for next year's analysis tasks, broken
out by hours and departments. By noon tomorrow."
"But I don't know what I'm going to be doing next year? We solve
whatever problems come our way!" Larry stammered.
"Whatever. By noon tomorrow," the boss said as he strutted out of the
office.
Larry sat back, staring after his boss in disbelief. At that moment, one of
Larry's co-workers came in. Larry did another double take. Gene had
never worn glasses. And while his hair was thinning, it wasn't gone yet.
Gene sat on the corner of Larry's desk and started complaining. About his
tasks, about his cubicle, about his pay. About everything. Larry tried to
ignore him, concentrating instead on his work. Finally, Gene left. Larry
pulled the pages of the report from the printer and reached for his stapler.
But it was gone! It'd been there a moment ago! Before Gene came in. But
Gene didn't steal office supplies. Did he? Larry realized that Gene had
looked and acted like Wally. Including stealing the office supplies.
"Phil!" Larry called loudly to no one in particular. "Get your ass here
now!" He glanced around, looking for Phil to appear. But Phil was
nowhere. So Larry turned back to the window to daydream.
Instead, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Plastered against his window,
wearing a window-washer's uniform, was Phil. Smiling. Phil waved his
fingers, and he was in Larry's office. "Thanks for calling me. Can you
believe they expected me to wash all these windows with no break? So,
have you changed your mind?"
Larry stared at Phil. "Are you responsible for this? For my boss acting like
Dilbert's boss? For Gene acting like Wally?"
Phil smiled. "It's an improvement in both cases."
Larry screamed in frustration, and lunged at Phil's throat. Or at least, he
lunged where Phil had been, for Phil vanished and reappeared outside,
washing the windows and whistling to himself.
**********
It was Star Trek night, even though it was partly reruns. Voyager, Deep
Space 9, and a rerun of Next Generation. No matter what else was going
on, Larry never missed Star Trek night. He sighed; he was going to miss
Deep Space 9. He guzzled the remainder of his beer and quickly got
another as the credits rolled. He took a quick pee and was back in his chair
even as the opening scene started in the Next Generation episode.
Larry smiled to himself. The episode had Q. Larry enjoyed Q; he
imagined what he'd do if he had Q as a friend. But when John DeLancie
was supposed to appear, Larry saw instead Phil, dressed in Q's outfit.
Larry's mouth dropped open in surprise.
Phil turned to the screen, and instead of Q's normal line, seemed to be
speaking directly to Larry. "Have you changed your mind, yet?"
Larry finally screamed. "No, dammit!"
There was a puff of smoke, and Phil was once again standing in Larry's
living room. "Oh, come on!" Phil pleaded. "You can have your wish - to
live as a student again! All you have to do is sign this standard rental
agreement." He waved his hand and produced a contract from thin air.
Larry sighed, knowing that he was eventually going to lose. "Will you stop
bugging me if I agree to this?"
Phil smiled, sensing victory. "Of course."
Larry tried to read the contract. "Boy, talk about fine print," he observed.
"I can't read any of this!" Phil produced a magnifying glass out of thin air
and handed it to Larry. "I suppose I have to sign this in blood?"
Phil shook his head quickly. "Of course not! AIDS risk, you know!" He
produced a pen. "Blue ink. That way we can tell it's not a photocopy."
Larry was becoming more tempted, but not enough. He shoved the
contract back at Phil. "No. Go away. And leave me alone!"
***********
Larry was trying to sleep when he heard the noise outside his door. He
awakened groggily, rubbing his eyes, and glanced at the clock. Midnight.
What the hell was going on outside his bedroom? It sounded like a party!
He staggered to his feet and shuffled to his door. Yawning, he opened the
door.
And was greeted by a party! It looked like the inside of a fraternity house
or something instead of his living room. Larry, now quite confused, closed
the door, confirming that he was, indeed, in his own bedroom. He opened
the door again.
Sure enough, it was a party. Dozens of college men and girls were
drinking, listening to loud music, and generally doing what college kids
did. Larry stepped gingerly out of his bedroom.
"Hey, have a beer!" A glass of beer was thrust into Larry's hand. "This is
one of your best parties yet!" The unknown guy turned happily, staggering
off toward a cluster of women.
Larry took a sip of the beer and turned. A girl came up to him. "Where've
you been?" she asked in a scolding tone. "The party started at nine!"
Another girl shouted at him, struggling to be heard over the music. "You
shouldn't have missed class today," she admonished. "We're having a quiz
tomorrow. Want to borrow my notes?" Larry nodded dumbly, trying to
comprehend all this. "Oh, and there's a makeup practice tomorrow." The
girl turned and left.
Larry wandered around for a few more minutes, trying to understand all
this. Finally, he saw Phil in a doorway. The doorway to his bedroom. Phil
was beckoning him. Slowly, Larry shuffled over to the door.
Phil was smiling as he closed the door behind him. "So, do we have a
deal?"
Larry shook his head to clear the cobwebs. "They all act like they know
me," he said, still confused.
Phil smiled. "Of course. If I grant your wish, they will recognize you.
You'll be one of them."
Larry sat heavily on the edge of his bed. "So what's the deal? Do I have to
kill someone? Make someone do something evil? What?"
Phil shook his head. "Remember, I'm only the Prince of Insufficient
Light." He smiled. "It's all spelled out in the contract." He produced the
contract again. This time, the print was legible.
Larry scanned the document, looking for loopholes. Finally, he looked up
at Phil. "All of this - for a class 3 lie? And one hour a week for a year?"
He frowned. "What's a class 3 lie?"
Phil smiled. "Remember that `I did not have sex with that woman' lie?
Well, that was a class 5. About as big and blatant as they go. Class 3 is
something between that and `Sorry, auntie, I have a terrible cold and can't
make it'." He shrugged. "Not enough to ruin a politician's reputation, but
enough to get a married man in trouble, if you get my drift."
Larry thought for a moment. "And the one hour?"
Phil smiled. "We trade that among ourselves. Things like short- term
possession by a minor demon, seducing a politician's spouse, things like
that. Just enough to cause chaos, but not enough to cause any real harm."
Larry looked thoughtful. Phil was getting rather insistent - maybe he
needed to make a deal to make a quota or something. "One hour twice a
month." Phil nodded, and with a wave of his hand, the contract changed.
Larry smiled to himself. He remembered his job, the boredom of trying to
debug stupid computer programs, helping the helpless and clueless
students, and worse, faculty. Of doing meaningless reports simply so his
boss would know he was still alive and breathing. Larry took the pen. "I'll
fit in with the group out there?"
Phil smiled. "You'll be a member of the group that's throwing this party."
Larry smiled. The fraternity that had done this party had done a great job.
It had looked like great life. He signed the contract.
Phil smiled. "You won't regret this," he said. And with a wave of his
spoon, Larry felt himself changing. He felt his body shrinking as his waist
contracted, while at the same time, his chest seemed to be growing. More
muscular? Larry smiled. He'd love looking like a hunk.
But then Larry's eyes widened. He was still shrinking, both in height and
in weight. Except for his chest. That was still growing, but instead of
developing athletic muscles, the swelling was concentrated in two places.
Larry looked down, and in his peripheral vision, he saw long blond locks
swirling around his face. But he ignored these; he concentrated instead on
the orbs growing on his chest, pressing outward, getting larger and larger.
Larry's hands shot up to cup the impossibly large growths, easily
surpassing an F-cup and still growing, and he saw his hands, now fine and
delicate and sporting inch-long painted fingernails.
Larry looked back up to Phil, and had to look upward at him. "But you
said I'd fit in with the group throwing the party!" he protested. Even as he
talked, he heard his voice changing, moving quickly up the scale to a
higher pitch as would befit a girl.
Phil looked smitten by the accusation. "But you know that this party was
thrown by the Delta sorority."
Larry looked stunned. "But the Deltas are a bunch of sluts!" he protested,
even as he felt the final changes taking place. He felt his dick pull inward,
and Larry knew that it was reforming into a vagina, and that his testicles
were moving upward, destined to be ovaries.
Phil patted Larry on the shoulder. "Now, now, Laura, we have a contract."
Phil smiled to himself. "Now you need to get back to the party. You owe
me an hour, remember? Well, I traded it to a friend of mine. A succubus.
You know what a succubus is, don't you?"
Laura had a sinking feeling. A succubus was a demon who preyed on the
sexual energy of men. A seductress. She felt her own consciousness
pushed rudely aside as the succubus entered her. Laura was still conscious
of everything, but the succubus was controlling her body. She walked
toward the door, and as she passed a mirror, Laura saw herself fully, and
realized that she'd been on the bad end of the deal. Long wavy blond hair,
full pouty lips, deep seductive eyes, enormous boobs, a tiny waist, a tight
round ass, and long sexy legs. Her entire body was a bold advertisement
for sex. And an hour in service to whatever demon felt like possessing her,
twice a month.
In the confines of her mind, Laura screamed over and over, "Darn you to
heck, Phil!", a curse appropriate for the Prince of Insufficient Light. And
she regretted ever having read `Dilbert'.
FIN
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