dolphin20pl1
03-11-2006, 2:56 AM
SEAT!
By Dolphin20pl1
Being here now, like this, I gaze up at the strip lighting & the ceiling squares I have come to know so well now. The luxury of time seems to have no meaning for me anymore, I have no recollections as to how long I have been here, the days blend into the nights, the weeks into months, the months into years. Each day, the base of my pillar is opened & my waste containers removed, emptied & replaced, my catheterisations are checked for security, my nutrition pack replaced with a new one, then I am returned to service.
In my permanent station I can feel nothing but the internal padding bearing tightly against what is left of me, I have no arms, no legs, no visible semblance of a human being anymore other than my surgically altered face which is now visible within the carefully moulded seat of the chair that comprises my pillar & the padded back rest rising away above me.
All about me, the hustle & bustle of the busy office goes on around me, no one pays me any attention at all other than for the purpose I am intended to be used for. Namely, to be sat upon for I am a seat, nothing more, nothing less.
Occasionally, my face will be brushed by the delicate hem of a skirt as a secretary comes into view above me, my vista might fill with the view up her skirts at her nylon tighted panties, will she, won`t she? Perhaps she will move away, perhaps not. Time will tell. It always does.
Sometimes I try & remember the outside world from whence I once came, the trees, the sky, the everyday goings on of life, I however am no longer a part of any of that, my life is now here & wheras others can see & experience the changes of the seasons, the transitions of day to night, a sunset, a moonrise, the only change I now see is the changing face of fashion, the latest underwear styles, the current length & style of a skirt, wether slips are back in fashion or whatever is en vogue at the time just prior to the point when they move in upon me & obliterate me from the light.
In the time I have been here, not one person has ever adressed me, spoken to me or otherwise given me any notion that I am a still a human being, I am treated as furniture with all the connotations normally associated with furniture. I am moved as & when needed to wherever I am required, one day I may be in the secretarial bay of the front entrance, the next in the conference room, each time however I remain what I am & am treated as such without regard.
Today I am in place at the main desk, Nobody can see me for I am hidden from view behind the large semi circular teak reception desk that looks out onto reception & the main doors to the building. To my right someplace, the receptionist is speaking with an electrician about a job needing to be completed on floor four, he is arguing that the job will require a little more time than first expected & she is insisting that the prior deadline be met. He walks off after saying that he will see what he can do & then the receptionist is talking to someone else, this time it`s a woman with a young child, they are here to see Mrs Leyton on floor one.
After that, the receptionist is quiet, I cannot see nor hear her but every now & then I can hear shuffling behind me & someone filing papers in one of the drawers that stand against the wall. I look up again at the ceiling, I open my mouth & attempt to voice some distress I feel but nothing comes out. Butchered vocal chords it seems, do not have any capacity to make sound so all that issues forth from my lips is a soft huff as my lungs force air through my ruined voicebox.
A few minutes pass & the material of a grey A-Line skirt is suddenly blocking out the light of the strip light above me as it`s apparently oblivious wearer stands near. I can smell the perfume she applied that morning at home before leaving for work & I can detect a slight aroma of washing powder also on her imaculately laundered skirt as it`s folds crease this way & that as she moves her upper body. For a brief moment, it almost touches my face as she leans back slightly against the leading edge of the seat itself, then it moves again as she leans towards the desk to pick up a telephone.
“Reception, Angela speaking”, she says in a pleasant joyfull sounding voice. “One moment, putting you through”, she adds & then she moves back again. This time the material of her skirt bunches up slightly & spills onto my forehead & eyes due to the way she has moved back after leaning forwards. I shivver within my pedestal & strain to move my head a little, it`s no use of course for my neck vertebra were fused long ago to render me permanently fixed into a right angled bend with the line of the rest of my body.
I take a quick breath, the intake balancing bizarrely between my lips & the tube surgically fixed into my throat which wheezes just slightly as the valve opens up, my mouth is so dry now, my salivary glands removed of course to prevent wettening & the consequent embarrasment to the woman using me by having to deal with a wet patch upon her skirt through her constant seating upon her chair. Then all of a sudden she is gone again & the light is upon me.
I still hear her now though, she`s near the coffee machine, I can here it whirring away as it delivers her chosen beverage, then it stops & she`s back once again to stand near my face. This time my pedestal is moved outwards from the desk as she steps in towards it, this is it now, I`m about to be sat upon. Her tailored skirt is moving over me again, my pedestal pulled slowly back as her knees begin to bend, I feel her large spreading backside contact first my forehead, then my eyes, nose, mouth & chin as it slowly rolls over each in turn, the weight increasing upon each until her full weight is pressed completely onto the chair to splurge over it`s entirety as she settles back.
In an instance my world is now dark, my eyes squashed deeply into my sockets as she makes herself comfortable on her chair, I can feel my cranium strain & flex as she sits, my throat tube opening up slightly to prevent me from suffocating beneath her. Then nothing.
The receptionist attends to her work oblivious to my wretched presence beneath her, I am but a chair for her to sit upon, nothing more, nothing less & for the rest of the day.
More later.......
By Dolphin20pl1
Being here now, like this, I gaze up at the strip lighting & the ceiling squares I have come to know so well now. The luxury of time seems to have no meaning for me anymore, I have no recollections as to how long I have been here, the days blend into the nights, the weeks into months, the months into years. Each day, the base of my pillar is opened & my waste containers removed, emptied & replaced, my catheterisations are checked for security, my nutrition pack replaced with a new one, then I am returned to service.
In my permanent station I can feel nothing but the internal padding bearing tightly against what is left of me, I have no arms, no legs, no visible semblance of a human being anymore other than my surgically altered face which is now visible within the carefully moulded seat of the chair that comprises my pillar & the padded back rest rising away above me.
All about me, the hustle & bustle of the busy office goes on around me, no one pays me any attention at all other than for the purpose I am intended to be used for. Namely, to be sat upon for I am a seat, nothing more, nothing less.
Occasionally, my face will be brushed by the delicate hem of a skirt as a secretary comes into view above me, my vista might fill with the view up her skirts at her nylon tighted panties, will she, won`t she? Perhaps she will move away, perhaps not. Time will tell. It always does.
Sometimes I try & remember the outside world from whence I once came, the trees, the sky, the everyday goings on of life, I however am no longer a part of any of that, my life is now here & wheras others can see & experience the changes of the seasons, the transitions of day to night, a sunset, a moonrise, the only change I now see is the changing face of fashion, the latest underwear styles, the current length & style of a skirt, wether slips are back in fashion or whatever is en vogue at the time just prior to the point when they move in upon me & obliterate me from the light.
In the time I have been here, not one person has ever adressed me, spoken to me or otherwise given me any notion that I am a still a human being, I am treated as furniture with all the connotations normally associated with furniture. I am moved as & when needed to wherever I am required, one day I may be in the secretarial bay of the front entrance, the next in the conference room, each time however I remain what I am & am treated as such without regard.
Today I am in place at the main desk, Nobody can see me for I am hidden from view behind the large semi circular teak reception desk that looks out onto reception & the main doors to the building. To my right someplace, the receptionist is speaking with an electrician about a job needing to be completed on floor four, he is arguing that the job will require a little more time than first expected & she is insisting that the prior deadline be met. He walks off after saying that he will see what he can do & then the receptionist is talking to someone else, this time it`s a woman with a young child, they are here to see Mrs Leyton on floor one.
After that, the receptionist is quiet, I cannot see nor hear her but every now & then I can hear shuffling behind me & someone filing papers in one of the drawers that stand against the wall. I look up again at the ceiling, I open my mouth & attempt to voice some distress I feel but nothing comes out. Butchered vocal chords it seems, do not have any capacity to make sound so all that issues forth from my lips is a soft huff as my lungs force air through my ruined voicebox.
A few minutes pass & the material of a grey A-Line skirt is suddenly blocking out the light of the strip light above me as it`s apparently oblivious wearer stands near. I can smell the perfume she applied that morning at home before leaving for work & I can detect a slight aroma of washing powder also on her imaculately laundered skirt as it`s folds crease this way & that as she moves her upper body. For a brief moment, it almost touches my face as she leans back slightly against the leading edge of the seat itself, then it moves again as she leans towards the desk to pick up a telephone.
“Reception, Angela speaking”, she says in a pleasant joyfull sounding voice. “One moment, putting you through”, she adds & then she moves back again. This time the material of her skirt bunches up slightly & spills onto my forehead & eyes due to the way she has moved back after leaning forwards. I shivver within my pedestal & strain to move my head a little, it`s no use of course for my neck vertebra were fused long ago to render me permanently fixed into a right angled bend with the line of the rest of my body.
I take a quick breath, the intake balancing bizarrely between my lips & the tube surgically fixed into my throat which wheezes just slightly as the valve opens up, my mouth is so dry now, my salivary glands removed of course to prevent wettening & the consequent embarrasment to the woman using me by having to deal with a wet patch upon her skirt through her constant seating upon her chair. Then all of a sudden she is gone again & the light is upon me.
I still hear her now though, she`s near the coffee machine, I can here it whirring away as it delivers her chosen beverage, then it stops & she`s back once again to stand near my face. This time my pedestal is moved outwards from the desk as she steps in towards it, this is it now, I`m about to be sat upon. Her tailored skirt is moving over me again, my pedestal pulled slowly back as her knees begin to bend, I feel her large spreading backside contact first my forehead, then my eyes, nose, mouth & chin as it slowly rolls over each in turn, the weight increasing upon each until her full weight is pressed completely onto the chair to splurge over it`s entirety as she settles back.
In an instance my world is now dark, my eyes squashed deeply into my sockets as she makes herself comfortable on her chair, I can feel my cranium strain & flex as she sits, my throat tube opening up slightly to prevent me from suffocating beneath her. Then nothing.
The receptionist attends to her work oblivious to my wretched presence beneath her, I am but a chair for her to sit upon, nothing more, nothing less & for the rest of the day.
More later.......