Letter from the Inquisition
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Letter From A Reality Readjustor free porn video
Letter from a Reality Readjustor
By Bill Hart
There were a few questions and complaints with regard to reality
readjustors following my story "Friends are Whatever You Make of Them".
Rather then simply write a new explanatory story, I thought I'd share
with you instead a letter I received several weeks ago that was the
primary inspiration for the above story.
I've changed the names, of course, to protect the innocent. That
assumes, of course, there are innocent to protect.
***
Dear Sir,
My name is Roger.
I don't imagine that single name means anything to you. At the same
time, I'm afraid that's all I can safely tell you. Even then, just
telling you my first name puts you into a slightly higher risk category
than most other folks who know nothing about me. If I were to even hint
at my last name, then you just might just find yourself you one moment
and someone or something else the next that you only thought had always
been you.
You're wondering what I'm talking about.
I can always tell when people are wondering what I'm talking about.
It's nothing to be ashamed about. It's not all that unusual. You see,
there have been plenty of times when I've wondered just what it was I
was talking about too. I think the people I work for like it better
when we're constantly confused. However, it's not as if any of us were
rocket scientists to start out with.
Sometimes I hate my job.
I even tried to quit my job once. You probably didn't know that.
Somehow, I doubt you care... at the moment.
I, however, won't make that mistake again.
After I'd told my supervisor I was quitting, even though I didn't have
another job already lined up, he just kind of looked at me real funny.
It was the same kind of look he might have given me if I'd told him
that his shorts were on backwards. Within a few short minutes, he, his
immediate supervisor, and his immediate supervisor's immediate
supervisor all got together and suggested that I hastily reconsider my
decision, especially in light of the termination clause in my contract.
We then discussed a few of my available options. It wasn't really too
tough a choice once a few things had been explained to me. I quickly
decided staying on was the best option for me. I was no one's fool,
even though they all must have thought I was theirs. I just didn't like
the idea of becoming a big potted plant that sat out in the reception
area. Nor was I overly enthused about the possibility of becoming
Flappers Flopdoodles the Superbusty oversexed Porn Queen either.
Believe it or not, those were two of the better options they gave me.
Some of the other possible ideas they'd tossed out onto the table for
me to consider were just too chilling to ever want to think about
now... or then.
On the other hand, I did get them to agree to make an improvement in my
retirement plan. I got it all down in writing too; I told you I was no
one's fool. There's no way they're ever going to weasel out of this
little codicil. They agreed to set me up with a harem once I retired.
All the big cheeses at the company - I'd tell you its name, but they've
made sure no one has ever heard of it - had their own harems. I thought
they'd argue with me more about that little detail, but I held firm to
my guns and once they realized I wasn't going to back off they gave in.
I was kind of looking forward to the day I could finally retire and
move right into my own harem.
But unfortunately, my retirement is still a long ways off. It'll be a
while before I enter that harem.
You're probably wondering about my job. Hell, I not surprised. I often
wonder about my job myself. You're also probably wondering why I'd ever
want to leave some job when there was always a possibility of slipping
right into my very own harem after I retired. I even told them what
kinds of girls I expected to be in my harem. They readily agreed to
everything I asked for. Somehow, I think their swift approval ought to
bother me, but it doesn't.
I have what might be considered an unusual job. I'm what you might call
a reality readjustor.
It's a totally thankless job, but someone's got to do it.
You've never heard of a reality readjustor. I'm not surprised. It's not
the kind of a job that gets a lot of press one way or the other. I
suppose you'd like to know just what it is a reality readjustor does.
It's actually very simple. Every so often - actually more often than
anyone might imagine - reality skews. We're told it's a perfectly
natural process, nothing to really worry about... most of the time,
that is. That's the story we're ordered to tell all of those that we're
about to readjust. I don't really think it helps them very much. I
don't know how it could. Once they're fully readjusted they no longer
remember being anyone other than who they've been readjusted into
thinking they always were.
Only a few people actually remember things as they were before the
corps of reality readjustors does its assigned job.
Some of us have objected - we always had and probably always would - to
that particular part of our job. Turning someone into someone else who
didn't know who he or she had been before he or she had become that new
someone else had just never seemed overly right. But we were always
little more than a minority - a very silent minority - on that
particular subject. The silence was necessary. Objections weren't -
still aren't - tolerated very well by upper management. They always
want things done their way.
The last one of the corps who openly voiced objections to the existing
company policy - his name was Richard - no longer objects to anything.
He's no longer a reality readjustor. He's now one of the readjusted.
However, they let him remember everything about whom he'd been before.
If you want to talk about something overly cruel that was it. Richard
is despondent most of the time. They make sure we all know it. The only
time that poor Richard isn't lost in total despondency is during and
for a couple of days following, some big overhung bull mounting her
with monthly regularity.
Believe me when I tell you that Richard's fate was a lesson not lost on
any of us with similar thoughts.
Of course, we can't all be like Raymond.
But then, who would ever want to be anything like Raymond?
Raymond is upper management's fair-haired boy.
He does whatever he's told whenever he's told to do it. He never
questions; he never objects. He just goes out and does it. Most of us
consider Raymond a condescending, cold-hearted, sorry-assed,
manipulative, ass-licking, butt kisser. Personally, I kind of think he
gets off licking asses and kissing butts. But I'm sure there are
executive suit types that enjoy getting their asses licked and/or their
butt kissed. Raymond is one really weird sicko. He just takes a little
too much perverse pleasure in doing his job. No other reality
readjustor gets as personally involved with those he's sent to
readjust. No one else plays the little mind games with his readjustees
the way Raymond always does.
Take one of Raymond's latest cases for instance. There was no reason
all four of those poor schmucks needed to be turned into beautiful
busty young women. Sure it was among the acceptable options that he'd
been given by the company directors, but it was the only one in which
all four male roommates were transformed. This was just another of
those times I thought Raymond believes he gets extra bonus brownie
points based on quantity not quality.
Did you know they make us take an exam to see if we're proper reality
readjustor material? I sometimes wonder if Raymond might have cheated
on his placement examination. Some of us did - I'm not proud of having
done it - but I kind of doubt Raymond actually did. No one who passed
their damn test was allowed to become a reality readjustor. None of us
know what actually happened to those people that did pass the test; we
never saw any of them again. The company simply doesn't want any people
working as reality readjustors that might question what they wanted
done or how they wanted it done.
Most of us just feel it's better to stay out of Raymond's way.
It's better for everyone that way.
Most of us don't like to associate with Raymond. Even those that do,
don't really trust him.
Even Raymond likes it better that way. He'd rather keep to himself.
When he was a kid going to school, I'm sure he must have got low marks
in "gets along well with others".
Of course, the company line dictates that reality inexplicably skews.
Inexplicably skews, my ass.
That's just what they want us and everyone else to think.
Reality skews for a perfectly logical and easily explainable reason.
And they know its cause exactly. It's just that isn't an overly
believable explanation. However, that just makes it so much easier to
hide the truth.
One day in the executive washroom - I don't really remember why I was
there or even how I'd managed to get inside - I overheard these two
executive suit types discussing the real cause behind the skewing of
reality.
I couldn't believe they were discussing something like that where they
might be overheard by anyone. In fact, I didn't really think they
should have been discussing that at all. I was glad no knew I was
someplace I wasn't supposed to be.
I certainly didn't believe the cause of the reality skews as they
explained it at first either.
However, after I mulled it all over for a short while after all of us
had left the executive washroom, I realized it all made perfect sense.
I could envision no better explanation.
Whatever else you do, don't tell anyone else anything of what I'm about
to tell you. No one will believe you anyway. You'd just be putting
yourself at greater risk of joining the ranks of the readjusted. That's
just how things work here. If they knew I knew, then I'd be in great
danger.
And don't even think about laughing when I tell you the secret either.
Believe it or not, it's the truth. I finally realized its absolute
truth when those two executive suit types from the washroom failed to
show up for work the very next day. I might not have actually thought
anything more about it, but they've never been seen anywhere again.
Although it might be nothing more than just mere coincidence, there
have also been two rather large new potted plants sitting in the
reception area since that day they disappeared.
Draw your own conclusions; I've already drawn mine.
It's those damn cockroaches.
They're the ones that are solely responsible for the initial skewing of
reality. But they're not the common every day type of cockroach. It's
that far rarer - most fortunately for all of us - reality cockroach,
Blatella realiticus, that is behind the reality skews.
Just think about it for a moment or two. It all makes perfect sense
after you think about it. How else could the more common and numerous
lowly cockroaches continue on and on for uncounted millennia after
millennia without ever changing? Very clearly, they must be under the
protection of their reality-altering cousins.
They're also insidious little beasts. The reality cockroaches simply
nibble away at chunks of reality here and there. At some point in time,
they finally nibble enough of the old reality away that reality itself
must shift in order to fill in the void. Whenever that shift happens,
things must change to compensate for the new altered reality.
Fortunately, it's a localized change and not something worldwide.
However, the longer the cockroaches stay in any one place the wider the
affected area becomes. It also means that more things must change.
That's why there are reality readjustors.
We put things back - sort of, anyway.
The biggest problem - at least as far as I can see - is no one really
knows who or what actually changes as a result of these collapsing
pieces of reality caused by the nibblings of any individual reality
cockroach. More often than not it takes about a dozen cockroach induced
reality changes to register any significant change on those meters the
company actually uses to measure the reality shift. A lot of things
have changed, but no one ever really knows how things were before the
localized nibblings began.
What the company winds up working from is a general area radiating
outward from some place near its center that is mapped out by the
computers. The generated map shows isoprobabilistic lines of all places
where something might have changed. It's not an exact science. Nothing
is all that precise. Mistakes have been made and will be made again. On
the basis of some sort of computerized probabilistic determination
algorithm the company gets a list of things that might need changing in
order to restore the original reality's equilibrium. But there are no
guarantees that the restored reality is truthfully the original
reality. All that is actually known is the meter readings are the same.
When I said things earlier I meant things. People certainly aren't
alone in being affected whenever the cockroaches skewer reality. For
example, some dog might become a rat or some cat that dog was chasing
might become a bird and fly away.
A baseball bat might become a violin.
A book might become a brick used in the construction of a house. Or it
might also become a log burnt in an open fire.
Lots of things are possible.
That brings us back to that case of Raymond's again.
It is still possible that all four of the girls that had previously
been male before Raymond's intervention might have actually been girls
before the cockroaches came along and skewed them.
Possible?
Yes.
Probable?
Not very.
Even in that unlikely event the four of them had all been girls before
the cockroach skewerings, it's highly unlikely the girls they are now
are the same girls they were then.
It has simply never worked out that way before.
There is also a possibility that the four young men had not even been
affected by the cockroach nibblings. They might have always been the
young men they'd been before Raymond stepped in. They might have been
born that way. No one will ever truly know.
There are always too many uncertainties for everything to be put back
the way everything originally was. In fact, the odds are exceedingly
high that nothing - aside from the readings on the meters controlled by
the computers, of course - gets put back the way it once was.
The most probable scenario is that one of the guys, perhaps even two -
but definitely no more than two and that was still somewhat of a major
stretch - had been girls before becoming guys as a result of cockroach
nibbling. The other two were most very likely pets of the other two. Of
course that may or may not be true. In any event, a dog or a cat seems
very likely. They might have even been strays that were simply in the
wrong place at the wrong time. One of them might have been a parakeet.
The only thing we know with any certainty is that we'll never really
know. There's also a very strong possibility one of the former guys
might have been a potted plant of some sort. I don't know how to
explain it, but there seems to be this odd affinity between potted
plants and reality cockroaches.
On the other hand, none of us were really surprised when all four guys
wound up becoming female. It was Raymond's case after all. He might be
a really cold fish that enjoys playing head games with his quota of
readjustees, but he very definitely has a thing for creating beautiful
busty young women, especially when they'd been originally male. All
four of the formerly male roommates that had been assigned to Raymond
now very definitely fall into that classification.
In any event, they all enjoy being beautiful busty young women now.
Of course, they simply don't remember being anyone or anything else.
But why should they?
As far as the world - aside from a few reality readjustors and their
supervisors - is concerned they never were anyone or anything else.
Only a couple score people really know anything otherwise.
Personally, I think it would be better if no one remembered them being
anyone or anything else. It would be less confusing. But then, there
wouldn't be anything for anyone to complain about. We'd just come in
and do our jobs. Even if something were different when we went home
than it had been when we'd arrived, no one would ever notice anything
was ever different.
They don't let us get married without first getting permission. They
don't really like the idea of excluding more people from readjustment.
That's what they'd have to do for our spouses. Can you imagine how
disconcerting it might be to kiss my brunette wife goodbye in the
morning and return from work to find her a natural blonde that only
knew she'd been a natural blonde her entire life? Of course, having a
blonde, instead of a brunette, wife would still be better than going
home and finding myself unmarried. It would always be better than
finding myself in possession of a large slinky cat we hadn't owned when
I'd left in the morning.
Even in the event that one of us received permission to marry, our
children posed other problems. It was always an adventure whenever the
kids of reality readjustors were involved. Unless the children were
excluded from readjustment, there would be no way of telling how the
number of children - or any of their forms - might change between my
comings and goings.
For me, it's better to wait now that I have a harem waiting for me once
I retire. Once I've retired to my harem, I'll never need worry about
facing readjustment.
I must go now. My break is over and I've taken enough of your time.
Perhaps, you'll find a story here. Just make sure to name no names.
I have just been given a new assignment. My number on the assignment
board is flashing. I wonder what my new assignment will be.
It must be something extremely important. I'm to get my instructions
from the company president himself. That is a very rare honor that most
reality readjustors can only dream about having happen to them.
I really must leave now.
I'll drop this letter in the outgoing mail.
Once I've completed my assignment, perhaps I'll write you again and
tell you about it.
Yours truly, Roger last-name-unwritten, R.R.E. (that's short for
Reality Readjustor Extraordinaire)
***
I have heard nothing more from Roger.
I sent him a letter at the return address on the envelope.
It was returned to me "Addressee Unknown".
When I sent a second letter, it too was returned to me. Only it was
marked "No Such Address".
I decided not to make another attempt.
He never mentioned the name of the company he worked for, so I can't
look for him that way. But if they were capable of doing what Roger
implied they were capable of doing that might not be such a bad thing
after all.
Somehow I doubt I'll ever read another letter from Roger. I just have
this unshakable feeling he's been forcibly retired. However, I am
reasonably convinced he's enjoying his new harem lifestyle, even if it
isn't exactly everything he expected it would be.
At the same time, I am somewhat concerned, not to mention a little
nervous, about how high I might have climbed up the list of those
reality readjustors.
***
The End (Perhaps)
Louise
- 11.12.2021
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