Matrimony A Making Dreams Come True Companion Volume
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A Turning Point: Volume 1 free porn video
Disclaimer: The places in this story do exist, but all the people
are fictional. So is everything else. If you live in Sabula, take
heart, no harm is intended and I am not writing about you. This
is NOT to be used on ANY pay site. Feel free to archive on free
sites. If you're not into TG fantasy, sex, or generally
dysfunctional fetishes, don't read it. This is my first story to
Fictionmania and I welcome your comments.
Send comments to: [email protected]
A Turning Point
By Justine Macoure
Part I: Selling Ice-cubes to Eskimos
Marc couldn't believe his luck. Just a simple business trip
his boss had told him. He was to talk a small farming community
into allowing his pharmaceutical company to build a production
facility in their town.
"This could be a turning point in your future with this
company, Marc. Wages are lower in the rural areas and the EPA
doesn't judge as hard in a less densely populated area. If you
can pull this off, upper management could be a distinct
possibility."
Simple... right.
Selling ice-cubes to Eskimos would be easier.
'This could be a turning point alright... getting mauled by
a mob of bib-overall-wearing, pitchfork-carrying yokels would
definitely change things...' Marc bitterly thought to himself.
Somehow the idea of upper management was quickly losing it's
appeal.
After setting up arrangements for the care of his apartment
while he was gone, Marc loaded up a few necessary items for the
trip into his classic '71 Cuda. He very rarely had a chance to
drive it, as the subway was much faster in the city, and if
nothing else, he was going to at least enjoy the drive.
On the drive from Chicago, Marc got to thinking, 'Maybe
this isn't going to be all bad. I could meet up with some
oversexed farmer's daughter, have a little fun, breathe some
clean air, and just relax from the city life for a while. Almost
a working vacation, actually!"
With that in mind, he pulled into Sabula, Iowa. "Iowa's
only island town" the sign read. Built on the sandbars of the
Mississippi, Sabula was surrounded by water and beyond that, some
of the country's most fertile farmland.
'The land may be cheap, but I'll bet it'll be hell to get
qualified help here.' Marc thought.
After searching the entire ('Good God! Only 7 blocks
square!?!') town, Marc concluded the run down motel at the center
of town was the only place to stay for many miles.
"I'd like a room with a phone, at least" he told the clerk
at the counter.
"Would you like me to remove the cows and hay first?
That'll be extra, y'know." the clerk shot back sarcastically.
"No, as long as they pay their share of the bill." Marc
joked back, smiling, "Sorry, I was just hoping for a hot-tub or
something to soak away the road aches."
"Actually, we have a couple rooms like that. You're not the
first tourist, y'know. Would you like one of 'em?" The clerk said
back, smiling a little now.
"You bet!"
"Good! Room 107. Thirty five dollars a night, up front, no
credit." He said as he handed Marc the key, "and we don't have
much for fine dining around here, but the local tavern makes some
respectable food."
"Thanks!"
After a quick call to city hall to set up an appointment
with the mayor, Marc decided to relax and settle in. Soaking in
his rented hot-tub, Marc thought to himself, 'This doesn't seem
all bad...'
Part II: Fishing For A Deal
A short stop at City Hall told Marc that the Mayor, Bill
Thurston, was out on his boat, and wanted him to meet him there.
The secretary, an exceptionally good-looking woman, Marc thought,
gave him directions to Mr. Thurstons dock. As he was leaving, she
stood up and shook Marc's hand. He couldn't help but notice her
height of at least six-two and the incredible figure on this
woman. She had the look of a model, tall, about 110 lbs, a tight
waist, incredibly long jet-black hair and probably size C
breasts, he estimated. Making a mental note to come back here
soon, for any reason, he headed for the boat docks.
"Come on! The fish are gonna fall asleep waitin' for us at
your pace!" The short man in the rubber overalls said to him as
he approached "Don't want to waste a day like this on the docks!"
"You're Bill Thurston?" Marc asked, surprised by this turn.
"I should hope so, or someone else is about to steal my
boat!" The man joked back. "Not exactly fishin' clothes, son.
Maybe you should stay back until I come back this evening."
Not a chance, Marc thought to himself, If this is how the
locals do business, then I'll give it a try. Nothing like being
one of the good-ole-boys to set them at ease.
"No. I just wanted to look good for my future dinner." he
joked back.
"Then we're off!"
Settling the boat a couple miles down river, Bill pulled
out his fishing rod and began to assemble the surprisingly
complex components.
"You ever been fishing, son?"
"Marc. And no, I can't say that I have."
"Well, when I get done threading this reel, you can use
this one. It's a Zebco 202. Easy to use as they come."
It sure doesn't look like it, Marc thought.
"Anyways, what is it that brings you to the Styx, Marc? You
just told me you're not a tourist, since the fishin' is about our
only tourism trade."
"Well, to be to the point, I'd like to build a chemical lab
and manufacturing facility at Sabula. It could mean well over a
hundred jobs and a stable economy for your town. Also think of
the uses for all that tax money it would generate."
"Chemicals, huh?"
"Yes, sir. Pharmaceuticals, to be precise."
A long pause followed, as Bill Thurston finished threading
the reel.
Part III: Undertow
"No."
This was the first word spoken between them in close to
half an hour. Marc had begun to feel a little queasy, due to the
incessant rocking motion of the boat or the tension, he wasn't
sure.
"Could I be as bold as to ask why not?"
"It's easy. The jobs you create are too skilled for the
locals, so we get no benefit there. Our best income, fishing
tourists and outdoorsmen, would dry up as you poison our fish,
and since we are on an island with limited space to build, your
company would build on the riverbank, off-island, thereby giving
any tax monies to the state, not us. Simple enough for you?"
"Isn't there a way to free up some island land to build
on?" Marc asked, grasping at straws.
"That depends on how big you plan on building."
"How's one block? We could always build up instead of out.
And we could ship any waste back to our main facility." He knew
his boss wouldn't go for it, as taller buildings cost a great
deal more, but at this point what the hell.
"What kind of drugs? We don't need a town full of addicts
if your security measures are less than adequate or a bunch of
deformed cows from experimentation."
"I assure you Bill, no deformed cows or drug-addicted
rednecks..." Oops, Marc thought to himself, I hope he didn't
notice that one...
Bill looked at him coldly, "What kind of drugs, son?"
The son thing again, Marc thought. "Hormones and
antibiotics, sir."
"Tell you what, son. Get us both a cold one out of my
cooler and I'll think about it while we fish." Bill said, "Maybe
if we can find a way for you to prove to me that your drugs
aren't harmful, we could work something out", he said, smiling a
bit oddly, Marc thought.
As Marc got them both a beer, the boat suddenly lurched and
threw him off balance. Fighting for solid footing as he came
closer to the water, his legs became entangled in the fishing
gear. As he hit the water the last thing he could remember was he
could have sworn he seen the Mayor Bill Thurston smiling...
Part IV: The Proposal
"Mr. Macoure?"
"Can you hear me?"
Marc realized he was in a hospital room, bound to a bed,
unable to move.
"What the hell am I strapped in for?" Marc yelled at the
nurse.
"It was for your own good, son. When you fell in the river
you hit your head on the rocks. It took almost a half hour to get
you out of the undercurrents and back in the boat. By that time
you were shaking so wild you almost tipped the whole boat. When I
got you here you were seizuring." The voice belonged to Bill
Thurston.
"So why am I still strapped down?" Marc asked.
"Son, the Mississippi isn't a very clean river thanks to
you manufacturing types dumping your garbage in it and it seems
you've caught a nasty infection from all the water you swallowed.
Needless to say, the seizures continue." He said to Marc, with
more than a little contempt in his voice.
"Haven't I been given any antibiotics or anything?"
"No."
"For Godsake, why not?" Mark asked furiously.
"I thought this might be an opportunity for you to show us
the harmless benefits of your company's products, but you would
have to sign releases and such for them to use anything other
than the standard drugs used here, as this hospital doesn't stock
your company's drugs." He said with a wry smile.
Almost on cue, Marc was racked with an incredible seizure.
As he settled down, Marc said, "Where's the forms to sign?"
The forms were produced and Marc's arm was unstrapped to
sign. The nurse told him he needed to rest now and strapped him
back down. As he drifted back into his drug-induced slumber, he
realized he hadn't even read the forms.
Part V: Realization
Marc awoke feeling a bit groggy. After a bit he realized he
wasn't in a hospital anymore. The room was somewhat small, with
the four-post canopy bed he was lying in taking up most of the
space. He was covered in rose-colored satin sheets and upon
further inspection, wearing a white satin camisole and panties.
Even worse, it appeared that he was filling out the camisole
quite nicely.
"What the fuck?!?" He blurted out.
Horrified, he decided to assess the damage before going any
further. Reaching down into his (?) panties, noticing the large
breasts in the way, he was somewhat relieved to find his male
parts still intact.
"Good. You're awake. We didn't want to do anything
irreversible to you, Justine. Not until you were ready yourself."
A female voice said to him from the doorway.
"What the hell do you mean?!? What is all of this? Breasts?
Since when is that a part of antibiotic treatment?" Marc yelled.
"And besides that, what's with the women's underwear?"
"You signed a release agreeing to all of your company's
products being used on you. Antibiotics, hormones... everything.
I'll bet you didn't even know some of the things your employer
makes, did you?"
"Like what?" Marc recognized the woman as Bill Thurstons'
secretary. "And what was that you called me?"
"Various items, such as silicon implants, hormone
accelerators, sprays to tighten the vocal chords, etcetera. And I
made up a name for you 'Justine', so that a big breasted, sexy
woman like yourself wouldn't have to explain the name 'Marc' all
the time. By the way, my name is Christine. Just call me
Christi."
"Obviously everything went well, so change me back!"
---
Part VI is soon to come, if anyone likes this story. Let me know!
[email protected]
Tammi
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