General Disclaimers: While it features no ‘on-screen’ sexual activity or explicit adult situations, this hypnofetish scene does contain examples of fictional characters doing illegal, immoral and/or impossible things to other fictional characters. If you are under the age of consent in your community, are disturbed by such concepts, or want graphic sex in your pornography, then for goshsakes stop reading now!
Permission granted to re-post for free to any electronic medium, as long as no one's being charged to view it, and this disclaimer and e-mail address (firstname.lastname@example.org) are not removed. It would also be nice if you told me you were posting it.
Copyright Voyer, 2008.
Specific Disclaimers: : This short scene is in quasi-screenplay format because, well, that’s how it insisted on being written. It’s a writer thing. And hey, if anyone out there wants to produce it, that's cool too .
FADE IN. A closed wooden DOOR.. To one side on the carpeted floor stands a low flat PEDESTAL. Posed on the pedestal is the REDHEADED SLAVEGIRL She is wearing only a one-piece bathing suit, colored bright red. She is posed motionless, smiling vacantly, with her arms held rigidly around head-height: she is being used as a coat-rack. A (rather ugly) coat and hat have been placed over each hand, an umbrella hangs from one arm, a scarf has been draped messily over the other, a third hat is sitting askew on her head. The shot lingers for a long moment; REDHEAD SG does not move or blink.
Finally, there is the sound of FOOTSTEPS, heels clicking sharply on a tile floor, growing closer. The DOOR abruptly bursts open, slamming against the wall opposite RED SG, who does not react. The door-opener is OLGA BONMARROW, a tall white woman, slender, with black hair, attractive in a harsh and icy sort of way. She wears a chic business suit, with a large PURSE slung over her shoulder, and in one hand she carries a NEWSPAPER. She steps into the room, studies the RED SG contemptuously for a moment, then looks around the rest of the room. The camera PANS, follows her gaze, passing smoothly over all of the following with equal disdain:
An opening in the wall with a heavy CURTAIN drawn across it. Some sort of flickering light is just barely notable, coming from beyond the curtain.
A pair of file cabinets. On the wall behind them is a large city MAP, liberally sprinkled with annotations, colored pins and lengths of string leading between post-it notes. Next to the map is a large framed movie POSTER, advertising a film called The Year Of Doctor Fang.
A large DESK with the usual accessories: chair, computer, telephone, lamp, box of Kleenex. An EXECUTIVE TOY, of the type made of a row of metal balls suspended from wire, is prominently displayed. There is also a glass GOBLET, currently empty. Behind the desk is a window, covered with blinds.
The DESK is unoccupied, but to either side stand BLACK SLAVEGIRL and BLONDE SLAVEGIRL. BLACK SG is to the left, wearing an orange bathing suit, BLONDE SG is to the right, in yellow. In addition, BLACK SG is holding a POLE to which is attached a large fan, while the BLONDE SG holds a large fancy JUG which matches the GOBLET. Both smile like RED SG, but they do blink, and meet Olga’s/the camera’s gaze.
The wall opposite the alcove is lined with shelving, filled with a wild assortment of knickknacks and collectibles, some appearing valuable, some like junk, but each item carefully arranged and spaced. Among the items are: a metronome, a motorized “hypnospiral”, a fancy-looking wooden clock, ticking quietly away, a stuffed Cthulhu doll and a gold Buddha statue. LATINA SLAVEGIRL is here, meticulously working over the collection with a feather-duster. Along with her green swimsuit, she is wearing a frilly maid’s cap and apron.
Last of all, another wooden door, currently closed. Scan of the room complete, Olga’s gaze returns to the DESK. The two SGs now smile more widely, and speak in unison:
SLAVEGIRLS, bright, ditzy, cheerful: Hello, Miss Bonmarrow!
CUT to OLGA, who manages to raise enough contempt to sneer.
OLGA: Where is the little worm?
BLACK SG, bright, ditzy, cheerful, bobbing her head as she speaks: I’m sorry, Miss Bonmarrow! The Master is currently unavailable!
OLGA jacks the sneer up a microscopic notch
OLGA: Don’t give me that. He’s always here.
BLONDE SG, bright, ditzy, cheerful: I’m sorry, Miss Bonmarrow! The Master is currently unavailable!
OLGA: Oohh. I know.
She stalks over to the CURTAIN, thrusts it aside, revealing a small darkened alcove. Mounted on the far wall is a large HYPNODISK, which strobes slowly as it spins around. There is a large thick cushion on the floor, and kneeling on the cushion is a DISTRESSED DAMSEL, who is wearing only some utilitarian cotton underwear and a large pair of headphones, the cord leading off somewhere out of sight. Her long hair spills down her back ,and her hands float in the air as if she was underwater. She stares at the DISK, and sways back and forth to the throb of the DISK. OLGA stares at this sight sourly for a long moment, then jerks the curtain shut.
OLGA: Fine. That just leaves-
There is the sound of a toilet FLUSHING, and the SECOND DOOR opens. MELVIN SWICKARD comes slouching into the room. He is a stereotypical nerd: skinny, short, pockmarked, with thick black glasses. His “Eastside Gamers Guild” T-shirt and jeans, however, are clean and unripped, and his glasses do not have any tape-patches on them. He sees OLGA and screeches to a stop.
MELVIN, very cautious: Olga.
OLGA: Hello, Swickard. You *know* why I’m-
She is interrupted by the LATINA SG, who flounces cheerfully into view, her eyes bright and starry:
LATINA SG: *Master!* We’ve missed you *so much!*
She pushes up against MELVIN and jams her tongue down his throat. This goes on for some time, Olga rolling her eyes and tapping her foot. Finally the couple come up for air, and MELVIN gently pries himself free.
MELVIN: Yes. Thank you. Get back to work, please.
LATINA SG, flushed, disappointed: Yes, Master.
She turns back to her dusting.
OLGA: And you were in the bathroom, what, a whole five minutes?
MELVIN says nothing, but makes his way to the desk, keeping watch on OLGA out of the corner of his eye. As he sits down, BLACK SG happily begins fanning him.
OLGA: You’re pathetic and disgusting.
MELVIN: What do you want, Bonmarrow?
OLGA: As I started to say before I was so... rudely interrupted, you *know* why I’m here.
MELVIN: No. Um. I don’t.
OLGA stalks closer, tosses the NEWSPAPER on the DESK. MELVIN looks at it as if it is radioactive.
OLGA: *Read it*
MELVIN: “Famous Sculpture stolen from Paisley Art Museum”
OLGA: The Mask of Dijon. Where is it, you toad?
MELVIN glances over at the display on the shelves.
MELVIN: There are plenty of other thieves in the city.
OLGA. Yes. But somehow, I just *know* you did it. Or no. You sent one of your idiot bimbos to do it. After I spent months planning it myself. Ever since they announced they’d be showing it.
MELVIN: I did not steal the Mask of Dijon.
OLGA: Fine. Fine. I came over here to prove it, and I’ll prove it.
MELVIN: (nervously) Oh?
OLGA stalks over to the POSTER, and pulls at the edge. It is on a hinge, and swings out to reveal a WALL SAFE, equipped with a numbered KEYPAD.
OLGA: Open it.
MELVIN: The Mask isn’t in there.
OLGA: Did I say it was? Open it!
MELVIN grabs one the sphers on the EXECUTIVE TOY and sets it in motion. It starts CLICKING loudly.
FLASH CUT of the face of each of the SLAVEGIRLS. They stop smiling, and if moving, freeze.
MELVIN: (speaking very distinctly) Safecracker.
CUT to the LATINA SG. She turns and zombie-walks across the room to the SAFE, pushing past OLGA. She punches in a very long string of numbers on KEYPAD, and the SAFE opens. She walks back to the shelves, but does not resume dusting.
OLGA yanks open the door to the SAFE and looks inside.
OLGA: I *knew* it.
She reaches in and pulls out a fist-sized black BOX, on the top of which is mounted a single large electric switch, of the type used in circuit-breakers. She slams this object down on the DESK in front of MELVIN. He looks at it.
OLGA: Flip. The. Switch.
MELVIN reaches out and cautiously does so. There is an audible CLUNK, but no other result. He looks up at OLGA.
CUT to OLGA. The camera shot is tilted slightly. The CLICKING grows louder. Her eyes have gone entirely white, and her arms are held away from her body at an unnatural angle. (REDHEAD SG, visible behind her, is not smiling, but her eyes are normal.) When OLGA speaks, her voice is flat and empty.
OLGA: This one is a mindless slave. This one serves Melvin Swickard.
MELVIN (from off camera): Um. Yes. Good. Report.
Moving very stiffly, like a robot, OLGA opens her PURSE , extracts a decorative MASK, and holds it up for display in both hands.
OLGA: This one successfully gained covert entry to the Walter Paisley Art Museum and retrieved the Mask of Dijon for Melvin Swickard. The one awaits further orders.
MELVIN: Good. Thank you. Just.. um... put it on the shelf there. Please.
OLGA: This one obeys.
She moves to the shelf, and places the MASK in a convenient hole. She returns to her previous spot and locks her body back into the same position.
OLGA: This one successfully placed the Mask of Dijon on the indicated shelf for Melvin Swickard. The one awaits further orders.
Cut to MELVIN sitting at the desk, still looking very nervous.
MELVIN: Um. Right. I.. don’t really have anything more for you to steal... at the moment. So. Forget about this...
CLOSE-UP of the BOX.
MELVIN: ..Until I give you a call...
MELVIN’s hand flips the switch back with another CLUNK. At the CLUNK, the CLICKING of the TOY stops as well.
FLASH CUT of all the SLAVEGIRLS, who start smiling and dusting/fanning again.
Cut to OLGA, also back to normal.
OLGA: There. You see?
Rapid series of cuts: She stalks over to the DESK. Takes the BOX. Puts it back in the SAFE. Closes the SAFE. Swings the POSTER back.
MELVIN: So. Yeah. We’re done here?
OLGA stares at him for a moment suspiciously.
OLGA: Yeah. For now. But I’ll be watching, Swickard. And if you try anything more, I’ll be back.
She storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
MELVIN blows out a sigh of relief and sags in his chair.
He gives the BLONDE SG a light slap on her butt, and she promptly fills the GOBLET from the JUG; the fluid is clearly soda pop, not wine. MELVIN takes the GOBLET and sips appreciatively from it.
Cut to the LATINA SG, who is reverently placing the MASK on a stand.
MELVIN: Ahh. Man. I have got to find a way to just hypnotize that damn woman. But first...
He leans back and snaps his fingers.
MELVIN: ..Time to relax.
All the SLAVEGIRLS except the REDHEAD: YAY!
They put down their burdens and eagerly cluster around Melvin, the LATINA SG crawling over the DESK to get to him. Scene of general kissing and licking commences. Linger for a long moment, then pan around the room, past the REDHEAD, still smiling and standing on her PEDESTAL. Arrive at the shelves, center on the MASK, zoom in and gradually FADE OUT.
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