The raucous crowd sped forward in race car fashion, but it wasn’t the crowd, maybe it was her? No, I can feel the cool dampness of stone against my cheek, she thought to herself, so I’m not moving either. The fog of confusion was pulling back as she realized nobody was moving, rather it was the sound of a surrounding crowd that was rushing to meet her as she regained consciousness. Tracy Miller lifted her cheek from the slick cobblestone on which she had been resting. Tenderly she rubbed her poor red cheek hoping to coax out the soreness that throbbed her right side. Blinking her bleary eyes, she winced at the roar of the crowd that surrounded her. Twisting and turning her startled body, she observed the circular chamber that she was in, arena-like in nature, the crowd surrounded her behind a railing 10’ feet above. They all wore similar versions of brown or black robes in varying degree of quality state. Their faces, identities were shrouded in mystery but for the occasional chin, nose, cheek. Their over excited nature was system shocking, intimidating, and all together confusing. Looking down at herself, Tracy found she was still dressed in her work clothes, consisting of a brown skirt suit, with cream colored hose, and heels. Her outfit was worse for wear though. The jacket and skirt were blemished with streaks of mud or oil probably from the slick cobblestone floor of the arena, and her nylons sported runs chasing themselves embarrassingly up and down her slender legs. Her hair had come undone from the neat pins that she had cutely done that morning, and while there was no mirror, she could feel the run of her makeup around her eyes and face. There did not appear to be any way out of the arena save for a circular entrance that looked very much like a large pipe. From where she sat in the center of the floor, it was but a mere dark tunnel.
The panic set in when Tracy began to contemplate the “why?” Tracy was drawn from her ponderings when the tone of the crowd shifted from pandemonium to a controlled chanting, as monks in a far secluded mountain culture might pray. Scanning her circle of cultish onlookers, Tracy spotted a lone figure who seemed to be orchestrating the congregation through sweeps of his hands and arms. In a sharp motion, the chanting dropped into silence that lasted many moments, save for the sound of Tracy’s heart beating in her own ears, a sign of her growing panic. At first it was nothing, then it was something, something… like sand paper dragged across a surface, a scratchy sound. The sound did not let up, as though it was something very large being dragged a very long distance. Tracy willed her heart to share her ears so that she may distinguish the strange sound as it came from… the dark tunnel? It began as a question, then there was no denying the origin. Tracy’s eyes joined the straining of her ears and peered into the darkness, willing them to see something. At first she caught something, the way that light reflects off glass. Her limbs tightened, her blood flow changed, the heart skipped a beat. They looked like eyes. There was no blanket to pull over her head to hide from the terror, so she just stared into the darkness and waited, her tongue so dry she might not be able to speak, and jaw clenched so tight, the cords stood out in her slender neck.
The wait was shorter than imagined, the “what” slithered from the depths of the darkened pipe with glassy yellow eyes, and scales of varying green. The giant snake flowed toward Tracy as a thin stream of water might down a driveway from a recently used garden hose. The gargantuan head was larger than Tracy’s torso, and while only some of its body was outside the pipe, that only meant it was clearly over 40’ long. As though it were a puppet on strings, the giant snake raised up off the ground above Tracy, casting a shadow over her, even in the dimly lit arena. It opened its maw revealing a set of viciously large fangs, dripping with what Tracy feared to be a deadly venom. If lingering over her with an open maw, while maintaining a menacing hiss was meant to intimidate Tracy, it was definitely working. She began whimpering as her chin trembled and she tried to shrink away beneath as if she could become smaller. While the snake held open its massive jaw the venom oozed down the curvy fangs and dropped down on a terrified Tracy like a deadly rain. The droplets splashed down on her long exposed legs, seeping into her cream colored stockings. Fearing it to be horrific deadly venom, Tracy stared saucer eyed at her run-filled pantyhose, now speckled with oozing damp spots. Reacting out of strict panic, Tracy reached toward the hem of her skirt and awkwardly lifted her hips from her sitting position, trying to hike it up high enough so that she might reach the waistband of her pantyhose. It was a clumsy and embarrassing process having her skirt jacked up around her hips, revealing the dark slimming tops of her pantyhose, and the panties beneath, but she trembled with the idea of twitching around on the ground as she suffered a slow painful death of snake venom.
As she huffed and whimpered, struggling with her absurd feminine undergarments, the snake regarded its prey as defeated. While she was sliding the clingy pantyhose down her long slim thighs, the snake stretched its jaw to capacity and plunged down on the poor panicked girl. Knees stuck together by the stretchy pantyhose crotch, Tracy could not begin to move in time, and so she cowered, holding her arms up over her head to try and protect her doomed self, but the snake’s mouth just closed over her upper half, then clamped down on her waist. Exercising its impossibly muscular body, the snake reeled back, tipping its head back straight up in the air. Tracy’s long smooth legs kicked about, still held together at the knees by her half removed pantyhose. Her pretty brown heels slipped of her delicate curved feet as she struggled embarrassed by her backside being shown to this arena of madmen, run-filled pantyhose bundled halfway down her legs. If she weren’t already dinner for the snake, she would have died of embarrassment.
The darkness inside the snake was terrifying. With each breath she took to scream her pretty little lungs out for help, she could feel that there were only a precious few remaining. The air was so limited she willed her fear to limit the screams, hold her breath, but that only built on the panic, and made her take gluttonous breaths in sobs that only wasted more of the precious little hot air. As the snake worked its muscles, Tracy’s long legs were slowly pulled in, the fit so tight, it actually pushed her nylons down past her knees, down her slender calves, and around her ankles. She wiggled her painted toes against the sheer nylon that encased them as if willing some hero to take notice of this damsel so close to her demise. With a defeated sob that was reduced to a choking moan, as Tracy’s slender body bucked for air, the snake, pulled one last time, and her wiggling toes slipped into the mouth, as the cream colored pantyhose slipped off and fell slowly as a feather might, to land in a wrinkly pile on the cobblestone floor of the arena.
The congregation resumed their chanting at the instruction of their leader, while the snake slithered back into the darkness of the tunnel to digest the poor Tracy. If anybody ever came looking for her, they would only know that she was there by the run-filled nylons and cute brown heels that she left behind.
“Meadows! Have you solved that case on the Harmon Jewelery store robbery yet?”
“Not yet sir, I'm getting to it, but I've just landed a decent lead on something that I've been trying to crack for a while. I promise I'll be getting to the jewelery store thing as soon as I clean this one thing up.”
“What the hell could be more important than a jewelry store heist in this city? Unless you've got a murder? Hey, where are your shoes?”
“I'm sorry sir! It's just so hot in here, if we could get the air conditioning fixed, I'm barely surviving in these pantyhose!”
“You'll wear the pantyhose and you'll wear the heels or you're fired! Beyond that... you can look into a sex change!”
The last words were spoken with a defeated sigh as she slipped her feet back into the cute but far too uncomfortable little heels. Despite her best intentions, her long slender pantyhose clad legs were damp with perspiration against the unrelenting heat in the office, generated by the multitude of computers, printers, faxes, and no noble air conditioning to fend it off. Dawn Meadows was a young and very attractive reporter at the Rose Tribune and she often had these “little banters” with her editor, the less than huggable, Mr. O'Neil. He had it in his mind that the female staff would be a traditional one and that mean skirts, heels, and hose. These three requirements were difficult enough to begin with, but take away the gift of air conditioning, and it nearly became a lethal recipe. Dawn did the best she could, but her sly nature often found her trying to sneak her heels off underneath her desk as a tiny victory. She couldn't be so bold as to go barelegged as that would certainly get her terminated on the spot, but it seemed the brief reprieve of heels got her in just enough hot water that her spunky personality could save her from being boiled alive!
Today, she wore the blue skirt suit that she favored complete with sheer barely black pantyhose, and the cute black heels with the ankle straps that made her slim ankles look all the more attractive. Her long blond hair cascaded like a wavy waterfall over her slender shoulders and curved back, cascading her face, and framing her emerald value green eyes. Dawn's beauty nearly demanded that she be a model, and based on her past nothing was stopping her. After her parents passed away, she inherited the family mansion, the green jaguar, and the fortune that accompanied the Meadows name, but she was not content sitting around being a “pretty little thing.” Dawn needed more, craved more. She had a curiosity in her that just could not be satiated by money (which is good, because she certainly did not make any being a reporter at the Rose!). Thus, she absorbed as much as she could at her private schooling at Ivy Ridge, wowed Mr. O'Neil (a difficult thing to do), and secured her position at the Rose Tribune. She specialized in mystery and crime solving, certain that was where the true stories were. Dawn's investigations seemed to take her to the brink of darkness, and one might worry that someday she might fall over the edge from getting too close. Until that day, her tenacity, and search for the truth and justice guided her high heels in the right direction, even when they were resting comfortably beneath her desk, and not on her poor little feet.
“Meadows! Heels on those feet, or you can go eat out of the dumpsters with all the other unemployed reporters out in the alley!” barked O'Neil, and shaking Dawn from her personal revelries.
“Sorry sir!” she squeaked, as she scampered behind her desk to retrieve the “evil little things” and place them back on her poor punished soles, having unconsciously shod them again. Perhaps it was a survival mechanism she though to herself.
She grabbed her purse, quickly checking her makeup in the reflective glass of her office window. Giving her lovely blond hair a fluff, she headed toward the office door. “Where are you going?” asked Mr. O'Neil.
“I've got an 'interview' with United Researchers Association!” rushing for the door, the clicks of her heels sounding against the stiff old tiled floor.
“Interview?” growled Mr. O'Neil. “What for? What are you up to now Meadows?”
“Investigative reporting, Chief!” she replied with a wink of her long eyelashes. “They've had some suspicious turnover in employment lately that my friend downtown gave me the skinny on.”
“Dawn, my wife plays bridge with Harmon's wife. They're expecting some answers on this jewelry heist, and the cops are dragging their feet on the matter.” O'Neil eyed Dawn with an expectant glare.
“Perhaps they have to wear pantyhose to work too?” joked Dawn with a pinch of the nylon suffocating her poor long legs.
“You want some liberal dress code, go work for Barnes and Noble,” he replied sternly. “And I'm still not laughing.”
“Oh, can't you get Danny to do preliminary work on it until I get back?” whined Dawn. Her mind was set on this lead and she was already running late.
“Be quick about it! I'm not bailing you out of any trouble on this one! So don't go breaking any rules on this 'interview' you're going on!”
“I'll use all the best manners I learned at Ivy Ridge!” promised Dawn with her best innocent face.
“That's what worries me,” mumbled Mr O'Neil under his breath. Dawn was out the door, her luxurious blond hair whipping behind her. Mr. O'Neil grumbled to himself for a few more moments before looking over at Danny, who was listening to the whole banter while eating his turkey sandwich. Suddenly realizing that the boss was now glaring at him, he raised his eyebrows with a “what did I do now?” expression on his face. “Get cracking on the Harmon robbery pronto!” he yelled while slamming his office door, causing the blinds to shudder. Danny looked at nothing in particular wondering to himself, how did I get stuck with this? He didn't let it get to him for very long though. He was helping out Dawn after all. And any help that he might provide her, might get him just one step closer to going out on a date with her. He just needed to find the right moment. That, and work up the courage to ask her out. Her short skirts, long legs, and dainty walk made him go weak in the gut, knees, brain, and just about everywhere else. “Danny, that doesn't sound like work!” came a faint yell from O'Neil's office. Sighing with thoughts still on his overwhelming crush, Danny turned back toward his keyboard and monitor and began zipping with efficiency only known to him through the Tribune research databases. In mere moments he had already begun to string along peculiar connections of unlike things. If Dawn was a wizard at detective field work, then was the wizard of the research lab. The keys chatted away as he nodded to himself, murmured affirmations and jotted down puzzling notes on his discoveries.
(Meanwhile at United Researchers Headquarters...)
“I must say that this is a very impressive resume,” stated the smartly dressed, good looking young executive, interviewing the doe eyed blond seated opposite his lavish desk.
“Thank you very much,” replied Dawn, uncrossing her legs, and switching to the other, readjusting the hem of her short skirt afterward, careful to keep the display of her pantyhose clad legs to a professional level. The act was not without purpose though. If she was going to suffer like all other women in business have to suffer, she was going to “extend” one of her long slender legs to hold open a door of opportunity and slip inside.
“Your experience in our field of research would be an asset, and I've been very pleased by the things I've learned about you in just our short conversation today.” the executive continued the complimentary dialog.
“The feelings are mutual, I assure you,” smiled Dawn, turning up the feminine charm to “volcanic.”
“Well, there are few matters that I would need to discuss with the partners, as well as process a background check, a mere formality I must apologize,”
“No need. I understand,” replied Dawn with lashes downcast, gathering up her purse, and uncrossing her smooth stocking bearing legs, preparing to get up and take her exit.
“You're welcome to stay on the facility premises and take in the tour while the discussion takes place. I have the feeling that it won't be a long one,” he quickly added sensing from Dawn's body gesture, that she was preparing to leave. “I insist,” he added with an expensive smile.
“I would be delighted,” replied Dawn, volleying her own charm, glad that her clever ruse was working. Casting one last smile and playful groom of her hair, she stood and took her leave of the executive office. Smoothing out her suit after having been sitting, she walked with a click clack of her heels across the large lobby and reached into her purse to view the text messages that she received while in the interview.
“Hmmm, Paul,” murmured Dawn, noticing she had a text message from her contact downtown. Paul had tipped Dawn off originally about the potential shady goings on in the research at URA. Scrolling through her phone, Dawn read the text from Paul:
“Dawn -at the zoo. Some snakes were stolen from the exhibit. Employees are baffled. Only said some scientists were here before asking strange questions.”
Dawn clicked her phone shut after dropping Paul a reply text, thanking him for the information, and to keep her up to date on the strange animal theft. Furrowing her eyebrows, she wondered how it connected with the strange turnover events recently at URA. Since none of the girls that previously worked for URA were responding to the numerous phone messages that Dawn had left over the weeks, she had to resort to more undercover investigative methods. Forwarding, Paul's text to Danny back at the Tribune, she asked if he could cross reference this new information to pull up any additional leads.
While she waited to hear back from her sources, and to be summoned by the head of URA in reference to her interview, Dawn felt compelled to do a little snooping. Waiting until the lobby secretary was sufficiently distracted by a number of convenient similarly timed faxes, phone calls, visitors, and deliveries, Dawn slipped by unnoticed to the office area beyond the lobby. From the looks of things, it was where most of the lower level executives called “home” and housed some small laboratories that most likely conducted preliminary experiments that might or might not make it to the advance labs for further, more expansive and expensive research. The office ran not unlike any typical office. Employees milled about the aisles between cubicles, some mingling at various spots to discuss current and future projects, some just mingling. Having been where she wasn't suppose to before, Dawn relished in the adrenaline and simply pretended that her “visitor” badge read something more authorized than it really was. This air of confidence had gotten her through many sticky situations, and in a basic office environment, her acting like she was supposed to be there seemed good enough to fool these everyday workers.
Still, not wanting to push her luck for the sake of things, Dawn stole into a currently empty office. From the upscale look of things, she deducted that she was in an executive office, and that should yield her some good information. While he wasn't here at the time, there was no way to tell when he would be back. She hastily opened his filing cabinets, and with her well manicured fingers, began sifting through the folders, scanning for anything suspicious. One folder she came across featured some field research on the snakes of South America, and their eating patterns in relation to size and growth. Raising her eyebrows at this discovery, Dawn flipped through the next few pages, murmuring as she read about hormone stimulus prehistoric DNA samples. The scientific language was a little beyond her comprehension, but she did her best to interpret.
“Can I help you?” came a suspicious voice at the door of the office.
“Oh! You startled me!” replied Dawn, heart leaping into her throat. So surprised, she dropped the folder she had been snooping in. It then appeared to her that the person at the door was still awaited the response to his question. “No! No. I mean, no. Sorry. I... Mr Shade told me to have a look around. I mean, he interviewed me today, and asked I would stick around... he said... he... I mean he told me...” Dawn trailed off in her stumbling words, red faced.
“I'm sure he didn't mean to go rifling through my office,” glared the man at the slightly trembling form of Dawn's slender frame.
“Of course! I'm so sorry,” apologized a guilty Dawn, then feeling strange standing near the open cabinet that she had been rifling through, she clumsily stepped away as if she were wearing two left heels. The awkward motion bumped her thigh against a jagged corner of the metal drawer, snagging the fine sheer nylon that painted her legs. Reacting like a panicked animal in a trap, Dawn instinctively pulled away, resulting in a scandalizing run to form on her previously flawless sheer black pantyhose. “Oh dear!” fretted Dawn, face flushing a deeper crimson. Standing in a stranger's office, caught rummaging through his filing cabinet, in ruined pantyhose was about as embarrassing as things could get for the pretty reporter. “I've made a mess. I'm so sorry, let me clean this up!” stammered Dawn as she bent down to shuffle together the dropped file.
“Don't bother. Why don't you go tend to your 'feminine problem' before it gets worse,” he said coldly while moving aside so that she might leave.
“Yes, of... of course,” murmured Dawn, standing up and and straightening out her suit, trying to muster up her dignity as she was tossed out of the office as pathetic as an old pair of pantyhose. Making her way back to the main lobby she quickly text Danny a summary of the information that she found in mystery man's files. She also found that Mr. Shade was waiting for her.
“Ah, Miss Meadows, there you are. I was looking for you,” greeted Peter Shade coolly. “Did you enjoy your tour of the facility?” he asked politely.
“Oh, yes, yes very much, thank you!” she replied, shaken from her stupor at the sight of him in the lobby.
“Please, let's return to my office and discuss my conversation with the partners,” he urged.
“That would be lovely,” smiled Dawn, following him back into his luxurious office. Pouring himself a drink, and one for Dawn, that she politely declined, Shade got down to business. “The partners of the Association were very pleased by my recommendation of bringing you on board, and very receptive to the idea. So we would like to offer you the position to begin immediately. They are very eager to meet you.”
“Oh thank you so much. You don't know how grateful I am for this opportunity,” gushed Dawn, layering on the charm thickly, while brushing her hand over the run in her pantyhose, hoping to hide it from Mr Shade's keen observation.
“Dangerous tour?” chuckled Mr Shade making light of her pantyhose perils.
“Oh you know, can't go a day without ruining a pair!” replied Dawn, trying to laugh off her embarrassment, though her face filled up with humiliation again.
“I suppose it's the perils that a woman faces. Her dignity always hanging by a thread,” mused Mr Shade while looking Dawn up and down. The words stung Dawn's pride, and made her feel awful inside. He was a handsome powerful man, and he was seeing her in ripped nylons! How humiliating! She felt pathetic that the cheap garment could reduce her worth to a bit of trash. Feeling herself begin to sweat from the embarrassing scrutiny from such a handsome man, Dawn stuttered.
“D-d-do you you think I could go somewhere to change... I mean, to change into a fresh pair of nylons. I just feel embarrassed about these,” she indicated the run.
“Of course. Where else but Corporate America can a modern woman be slave to her pantyhose?” joked Mr. Shade again, indicating a bathroom in the corner of his office. Dawn hastily got up rummaging through her purse for her emergency stockings on the way, feeling the stinging truth of his words, and hating the men that made policy where modern women were in effect slaves to the pleasure men took in the horror of women and their pantyhose. Inside the bathroom, she splashed some cool water on her face, to fight back her embarrassment. Peeling off the ruined pantyhose, she tossed them in the trash, secretly hoping as a result of his fun making jokes at her expense, that Mr. Shade had a wife that visited him at the office, that might just use the bathroom, and see a pair of discarded nylons, and put his husband to the meat grinder of the scandalous discovery! At the very same time, she touched up her makeup and perfected her hair feeling the overwhelming urge to make the best of herself in the presence of such a handsome powerful man. The paradox was grimly amusing. While her long slender legs had but a few moments reprieve from the constriction of nylons, it was lovely before she squeezed herself into the fresh pair of sheer barely black pantyhose. Pulling them taught over her arched feet, she smoothed them up her love calves, over the knees, up her creamy white thighs, and finally pulled them snug over her hips. Slipping back into her heels, she took one last look in the mirror, then one in the trash can. Smiling smugly, she stepped out of the bathroom and back into the office to find Mr Shade engaged on his desk phone, when her very own cell phone rang. Pulling it out of her purse, she looked at the caller id: Danny. Holding her ringing phone up as an indicator, she silently asked permission of Mr. Shade that she take the call, as he seemed rather busy himself to tend to her. Glancing over at her, he nodded his ascent to her silent request.
“Danny?” she answered the phone, speaking quietly, so as not to disturb Mr. Shade's phone call. She paced the office, balancing her weight on one foot, while the other pivoted playfully on just it's pointy heel.
“Dawn!? Oh thank goodness you picked up! Are you alone?” Danny spoke quickly and with an urgent tone.
“Danny! What's up?” asked Dawn in nonchalant tones, but deeply troubled by Danny's tone.
“Dawn! I've got some serious stuff here that you need to know. Between the information I got from Paul down at the zoo, the text you sent me from the files at URA and an email I intercepted-”
“Intercepted? What are you talking about?” whispered Dawn.
“I don't have time for that Dawn! Let's just say there's more going on at URA than you realized. Those girls weren't fired, they didn't quit, and they're certainly not missing. URA knows exactly what happened to them! And it has to do with those missing snakes. But it's not just those missing snakes. That scientific stuff that you sent me? Well, the email detailed the experimentation going on with a rapid growth formula designed to react to the DNA found in African jungle snakes! We're talking like dinosaur size, Dawn. And remember I said those girls aren't missing? They fed them to the snakes! These things can't live on mice, rabbits, or anything close to that now! Dawn you have to get out of there! You could be-”
“Dawn?” repeated Mr. Shade. He had already said her name three times.
“Oh, I'm sorry!” squeaked Dawn, clicking her phone shut, with a forced cheery smile. She dropped it in her purse with a hand visibly shaking.
“Is everything okay?” asked Mr. Shade, in a sincere tone.
“Okay? Yes, of course, why wouldn't everything be okay? Shouldn't it be? I mean I just got the job!” rambled Dawn like a school girl, though she was visibly edging toward the door of his office.
“Well, I just finished a conversation with Devon. He's our office manager in research and development and he just had the most curious things to say about you,” replied Mr. Shade, tone ever so slightly dropping more gravely.
“He...did?” was all that Dawn could manage in a girlish squeak. Her heart was racing, and her chest was noticeably heaving up and down with irregular breathing. Her pantyhose normally uncomfortable, were magnified by the sweat forming up and down her long stemmed legs. She willed her timid heels to back up toward the door. “How odd,” she added a nervous chuckle.
Instead of her hand feeling a doorknob behind her, it stumbled upon the presence of a man, and before her startled reaction to take effect in the form of a gasp, a jump, or even a shrill scream, a strong hand closed over her ruby lipped open mouth with a acrid smelling cloth. Her body reactively bucked, but not before the other strong arm reached around her slender arms and torso, holding her firmly in place. Her muscles jerked and begged to be let go, but her captor was far her superior, and thus Dawn could only stare wide eyed, as her body reacted instinctively despite the futility.
Mr. Shade continued to talk as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. “Yes, the funniest thing. He told me that he caught you in his office, perusing his files at your leisure, and that you seemed most interested in our prehistoric reptilian work.” He put his hands on his hips, and looked out the window. “It's just as well you read up on things, since most of your work will be in that department. Oh by the way, who was that who called?” asked Shade, turning back to face Dawn's wide tear rimmed eyes, filled with terror. “Don't you fuss, we'll take care of things,” he finished picking up her purse that housed her cell phone and other personal items. These were the last words that she could make out before the acrid smelling cloth revealed its effects in making her head foggy, panicked muscles relax, and defeated any will she had to stay awake. Dawn collapsed unwaveringly into Devon's arms.
“Take her downstairs,” ordered Mr. Shade.
(A few hours later...)
Dawn awoke with a headache unmatched. She remembered being in Shade's office and getting a strange call from Danny. He was speaking so quickly that she couldn't really make any sense of it. He might not have been speaking that fast, but her memory felt all distorted presently, and that's how it seemed. Whatever it was, spooked Dawn, and she recalled trying to leave the office in a panic but something went wrong, and then everything was blurry. She remembered that Mr. Shade had offered her a drink but she was pretty sure that she refused thinking it would be inappropriate to drink during an interview. Maybe she did drink and forgot? Along with the pain monopolizing her head, she felt as though she had been drugged. Maybe it was the drink? But she didn't drink... did she? All these memories, fake memories, and questions only made her head hurt more, mind further struggling to swim.
She wasn't in bed, and if she was, it was an awful bed. No, she was the ground, hard ground. Hard, bumpy stone, cobblestone? How did she end up on cobblestone? Was she in the road? The thought created panic in the foggy waters of her mind, and her body sluggishly reacted by forcing her skinny arms to wobbly push her into a sitting position. When a car did not come rushing at her with blinding headlights to flatten her wobbly form, Dawn breathed a sigh of relief. As her eyes gave her more useful information, she found that she wasn't in a street at all. And though she could not see a ceiling, it felt as though she were underground. It was that same “feeling” that also gave her the feeling that she was not alone. Turning her head this way and that, she realized this to be very true. She was in the center of a circular chamber surrounded by a high wall. Atop this wall were rows of benches that circled the chamber, giving the place a Colosseum feel. The strangers that surrounded her above, gave her no good feelings in the tips of her toes. They were all clad in rag tag robes, with hoods cowls pulled low over their faces, but she had little doubt that their eyes were on her frightened little form. She instinctively hugged herself and was startled by the feeling of skin under her fingers. Looking down, she was horrified to find that she was no longer wearing her suit jacket, nor did she even have the modesty of her skirt, regardless of how short it was to begin with! An open mouthed Dawn, was shocked to find that all her body had to cover itself with was her bra, and a pair of sheer black barely black pantyhose! Spinning her head around at the mysterious robed figures that surrounded her fully able to see her well defined shoulder blades, the way her spine was detailed in her back, her bare shoulders, the curves of her breasts held within her lacy bra, the tummy that she was so sensitive about, and her long slender legs, covered by nothing but sheer pantyhose, that teasingly revealed the lacy panties beneath. These naked revelations made Dawn's skin burn with humiliation. To be captive by some mysterious cult was one thing, but to be so exposed made her feel even more vulnerable. As if her discomfort could stand no more, the strangers began to chant. Low, almost imperceptible at first, but their chorus took form, and raised in level. The sound was eerie and unsettling, fitting the darkness of the creepy place. Certainly not a place fit for a girl in her underwear!
A figure emerged from the circle of cultists that raised his hands and the harmonized chant dropped to a dull level, so that his words could be distinguished. “Dawn Meadows, you have been chosen to fulfill your destiny on this night. You will serve to be part of an evolution that crosses millennium, resurrecting what once was extinct on this planet.” Dawn shivered at the words, not comprehending what he was talking about it, but certain that she wanted not part in it. She could do without fulfilling any destiny new or old on this night. Sadly, as she knelt there in her lacy underwear, she wasn't sure she had much choice in the matter, and the thought made her scantily clad body tremble more than it already was.
“I want go home,” whimpered Dawn, a reaction from her body, if not of her mind. She immediately clamped her hand over her mouth, while hugging herself for modesty the best she would with the other, realizing how pathetic it made her sound.
“Witness a beast not seen on this planet for over 65 million years!” bellowed the leader, ignoring Dawn's wishes as though she had none at all. The rest of the congregation joined in, their chanting swelling into a raucous chorus of chaos. When the cacophony seemed that it could sustain itself no longer, the leader raised his hands, and it dropped to silence in a unison nearly as unnerving as the chant had been. The next sound that Dawn heard was the same one that Tracy and the other girls before her had heard. The sandpaper scraping as something wicked approached through the mysterious dark tunnel. At first Dawn had eyed that as her potential exit, but now those thoughts were banished to the depths of her butterfly filled stomach.
The giant slithered from the darkness with menacing speed. Before she could even register the surrealistic creature before her, it had towered 20ft above her, with wicked golden eyes, and viciously long fangs. The hiss brought her out of her stupor, and forced Dawn to believe that she was not in some pipe dream, rather a horrific nightmare. She was looking at a real life monster. But not one that was created by fairy tale or fantasy, but rather science. A science gone wrong. A science too powerful, too far reaching, 65 million years ago. Dawn let out a piercing scream, much to the enjoyment of those who had come to share in the fulfillment of her destiny, as she scrambled clumsily to her stocking feet. Backing up from the towering reptile, she sputtered begging, “Please don't eat me, please don't eat me,” She had no control over her fear, and the tears streamed unabashed down her face making a mess of her makeup. She backed up, shaking like a leaf, choking on the “gulps” in her throat. The snake responded with widening its jaw to an an imperceptible level, baring its venom dripped fangs, and hissing the song of its insatiable hunger, to eat and to grow.
A cowering Dawn turned and ran, pumping her stocking bearing legs as fast as they could carry her. She knew that she was in a circular chamber and that she really had nowhere to run, but her body would not be bothered by reason. When she reached the wall all too soon, she slapped it with her well manicured hands, sobbing at its refusal to allow her to pass. She moaned through her tears as she pressed her face against the cold stone of the wall, regretting all her choices in the investigation. “I don't want to be dinner,” she cried, begging the cultists above to take pity on her sobbing form. They ignored her pathetic cries.
The snake dashed forward on its prey while her smooth white back was turned. Clamping down with its massive jaw, its fangs slashed through the waistband of Dawn's pantyhose, drawing the faintest line of blood as it grazed her tender flesh. She screamed, “Noooo!” as the snake reeled back, dragging a captured Dawn with it. She bobbed like a mouse with a nylon tail, 10ft off the ground, the waistband of her pantyhose, skewed on the end of a giant fang. Dawn kicked and swung her arms and legs to no avail as she bobbed there pathetically, while the snake wavered back and forth hypnotically eying its ensnared meal. As the waistband of Dawn's nylons stretched out, she began to dangle lower and lower, and for the briefest of moments she prayed that they might snap and she might be free. Before the stretchy hateful garment could be put to the test, the giant snake snapped its head back, and Dawn popped up into the air, only on her way down, she wasn't greeted by a smack of cobblestone, rather the fang filled jaws of the snake! Her last thought before dropping down the throat was a recent issue of Cosmo that she read. The article was entitled “Bare Legs Are In!” Had she heeded their fashion advice she might have stayed off the dinner menu! Some things ARE worse than a run in your pantyhose she thought with a sob as she slid down the gullet of the snake and into darkness where the air was precious scarce, and she begged for someone to rescue her with her last wishes, drifting out of consciousness. Hating herself for her mistakes, she hoped that Mr. Shade's wife did find her discarded pantyhose in his trash, and gave him a hellish divorce over the matter, and last but not least, she REALLY hoped that her stockings gave this awful snake indigestion!