WHATEVER HAPPENED TO MISS ALL-AMERICAN POLLYANNA OF 2000?

-- by GM --

This is the tale of a hotel maid named Maeve, who never considered her job a step down from her reign as the homecoming queen, Miss All-American Pollyanna of 2000. In fact, she considered almost nothing to be any sort of letdown, but took everything with a nearly-inhuman degree of sunniness, good cheer, and even grace.

Those traits had earned her another legendary distinction of sorts: in her twenty-four months of employment at the Taranfy Hotel, she had won the Taranfy Employee of the Month Award every single month, and was considered a shoo-in for a twenty-fifth, twenty-sixth, and so forth. In addition to considerable media and guest fanfare, this was starting to earn her some resentment from fellow staff. Their jealousy might have steamed even sooner, but for Maeve's sunny and humble disposition. To be truthful, even Maeve herself was tiring of winning Employee of the Month all the time, and having to make additions to her shelf for them all — but she simply shrugged it off, saying with happy acceptance, "I'll simply have to MAKE more room for this extra award!"

One evening the Taranfy Hotel was incredibly shorthanded; the vast majority of the staff, including proprietors Mister Thomas and Lady Tatiana, had called in sick. Not Maeve, however—even with loads of extra duties and already feeling considerable fatigue, she kept up her cheerful facade and made sure all who saw her saw the smile on her face. "After all," she replied to those who wondered how she could bear all this work, "the job's got to be done by some-bo-dy!"

Upon approaching the desk clerk, she noted that he was slouched at his desk, dejected. "Why, what's wrong?" she asked. "Oh, Maeve," he wailed, "the guests in Room 613 are so unreasonable—they're demanding service NOW! and we're so shorthanded—they want this big green box sent up to them and we've nobody on lifting crew to take it up."

"Oh, that's no problem," Maeve smiled. "I'll take it up."

"You? But that's not—"

"Poo-poo! The guests want their box, they'll get their box," she said. "The guests are always right, and I can take it on this wheelcart beside it. Now be good and pretty please place it on for me."

Swayed by her charming plea, the desk clerk reluctantly placed the box on the wheelcart, and, saying "Bye-by-y-y-e," to the clerk, Maeve sped to the elevator, not wanting to waste a moment.

Once on the sixth floor, she rushed out of the elevator and proceeded down the hallway, humming, "All right, good eve-ning 601...603...6-0-5...6-0-sev-en...6-0-9...6-one-one...there you are! Six-thir-teeeen!" She could hear some sort of conversation and hubbub but passed it off as none of her business and rang the bell.

"WHO IS IT!" barked a voice.

"It's the maid—"

"What maid!"

"Maeve...and I'm here with the box you've been waiting for."

"Hey," the voice growled to someone behind the door, "this maid who claims to be Maeve says she's got our box."

"Well, don't let her grow weeds out there," another voice snapped. "If she's got our box let her in!"

"Allrightallright," the first grumbled.

The door opened, and Maeve saw before her a decidedly muscular woman dressed in an unusual gown. Further in the room she saw another woman, also unusually dressed, and wearing a dark veil. From their quite risque attire, Maeve guessed this was some sort of costume party. But where were the other guests? "Oh well," she thought to herself, "N-O-M-Beeee...I've delivered their box, and that's all I need to know!"

"Your box is here," she beamed to the guests.

"So it is," the first woman replied, then turned to the other. "Okay, Madame T., you were right."

"Told ya, Miss K.," Madame T. smirked.

Miss K. turned to Maeve. "Could you be a good maid and wheel the box in for us, dear?"

"Certainly," Maeve smiled and eagerly wheeled the box inside.

As soon as she was clear of the door she heard it being violently slammed shut behind her. Turning on instinct, she realized that Miss K. had done it and was now standing before her with a ravenous look in her eyes.

"Oh...!" she gasped. "Now really, we're not allowed to fraternize with the guests—it's against the rules—" She rushed to exit out the door, but Miss K. cut her off.

"Ahhh, screw the rules—bend 'em for a change."

"No—no really," Maeve protested, "I've never EVER—" She turned and gasped loudly upon seeing Madame T. open the box and pulling out a rectangular green rod. "No—you mustn't! We're—we're not allowed to even look at your gifts—!"

"Oh this one's not for us," Madame T. replied.

"That's right, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes," Miss K. said, shoving her towards the box and Madame T., "it's for you!"

Before Maeve could react, Madame T. seized her with one arm and brought the rod towards her face. But Maeve had guessed what she had in mind and began to put up a struggle, whereupon Miss K. suddenly swatted her buttocks. The surprise caused Maeve to let out a scream, which was cut off as Madame T. stuffed the rod in her mouth and Miss K. duct-taped it to her face. Then the two of them lowered poor Maeve to the carpeted floor, where they held and fondled her, and gingerly stripped her down to her underwear (though they removed some of that, too). Maeve could only flail helplessly.

"Well now, Miss All-American Pollyanna of 2000," cracked Madame T., "I'd say your streak's about to be broken!"

"Oh my-my-my," Miss K. grinned. "So much for the Taranfy Employee of the Month for TWENTY-FOUR MONTHS running." She spoke into Maeve's face closely. "Guess this is against your precious rules too, huh, dah-link?"

"MMMPHHH!" Maeve protested, and tried to back-kick in frustration.

"Careful," Madame T. said, grabbing Maeve's foot in mid-kick. "She's trying to fight us."

"Ahhh, let her squirm," Miss K. laughed. "I like them wiggling around under there." She patted Maeve's buttocks as if they were soft bongo drums. "Oh boy, there's a real tiger inside this little lamb." She turned back to Maeve. "You really ought to thank us for bringing that out of you."

"MMPHH—MMPHHHHH!" Maeve protested in fury.

"Hey, K.," Madame T. said, fondling Maeve's foot until she had loosened the shoe from the maid's struggling foot, "get a look at this!" She flung Maeve's shoe into Miss K.'s eager hands.

"Such a nice pe-tite pump," Miss K. smiled, alternating between bouncing the shoe in her hand and caressing her face with it. "As dainty as Cinderella's glass slipper and polished white as pearly snow! But why should I have all the fun? Have a dress-type lei!"

She grasped Maeve's dress and placed it on Madame T.'s shoulders, like a crown. "My queen."

"Hey, I've already got my fun coming up," said Madame T., still grasping Maeve's stockinged foot and fondling her toes. "Y'know, K., she keeps her tootsies as perfect as the rest of her."

"No surprise," Miss K. replied, "even though we never get to see them."

"And with just the right amount of lacquer," Madame T. said, beginning to pinch each of Maeve's toes, bringing out renewed protests and struggle. "Now...this little pretty went to market; this little pretty stayed home...and this little pretty had roast beef, and this little pretty had none...and THIS little pretty—"

She pulled and yanked Maeve's little toe with gleeful abandon. "—justcan'twaittogrow upforsomemoreFUNANDGAMES!!!!!Hahaha!"

"Hey don't forget these two!" Miss K. said, and tweaked each of Maeve's exposed nipples, making her nearly scream underneath her gag.

That was Maeve's breaking point. Summoning up the last of her strength, she made one final effort to break free, and miraculously, she succeeded in doing so. With lightning speed, she scrambled to her feet, propelling herself towards the door. She frantically undid the door, and fled out of the room and into the hallway. She had not noticed that Miss K. and Madame T. simply watched her flee, shrugged, and burst into laughter.

Running as best as she could with only one shoe on, Maeve struggled to undo the duct tape holding the rod fast in her mouth. She managed to do so (and slam the rod to the floor) just as she got to the employees' conference room, where to her surprise, a number of hotel employees, including the desk clerk, were sitting and watching something on a large monitor.

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!" she screamed, but for some reason they seemed not to care, which made her furious. "Didn't you hear me! Those tenants in Room 613 captured me—held me hostage—fondled me, touched me—LOOK AT ME, DAMN YOU!!! They stripped me near-naked—"

In a violent rage, she rushed to the monitor to turn it off, when she realized that the picture they were watching was of Room 613! She recognized her scattered clothes and shoe, as well as the green box, on the screen.

"How was the show, everyone?" a voice behind her inquired.

She turned. There were Miss K. and Madame T. in the doorway! And all the employees burst into wild applause. But that was not to be her only surprise, for as soon as they noticed Maeve's presence, Miss K. removed her wig and some of her outfit to reveal a man—

"MISTER THOMAS!" she gasped. "You—were Miss K.?"

"I confess," Thomas replied.

"And I," Madame T said as she removed her veil, "am Lady Tatiana."

"I—I don't understand—!" Maeve said in shock.

"It's really simple, Maeve," the desk clerk said. "We were all getting tired of you winning Employee of the Month all the time, with all your sunshine and rose-colored glasses, and we could tell it was wearing you down too...so...I came up with this suggestion."

"It was all meant to get you to reveal a different side of you," Tatiana said. "To, as my partner put it—bring out the tiger within."

"That it did," Thomas cut in.

"I'll say," Maeve replied. "But I thought...that you liked me as I was."

"Not for twenty-four months without end!" somebody cracked. "Even the Pope has to pee every so often."

"And speaking of peeing," Tatiana added, having retrieved the green rod that had gagged Maeve and which she now tossed to her, "did you ever get a good look at your gag, Maeve?"

Confused, Maeve looked closely at her gag, which turned out to be a rubber penis. Her look of utter revulsion sent everyone into laughter.

"Oh come on Maeve," a co-worker near her said, "even you have to admit this was a change-of-pace for you...a break from the same-o, same-o, dullsville, wasn't it now?"

"I—" she began, but realized the truth of her feelings. "—actually...yes. Employee of the Month was becoming boring...I could finally release myself."

"Then this experiment is a success!" Thomas declared. "Let us celebrate this moment with Maeve in the hotel ballroom, on the two-year anniversary of her employment here! And celebrate our next Employee of the Month—our desk clerk! Maeve, your clothes will be returned to you there, and you can put them back on or not as you desire."

And that was what happened to the All-American Pollyanna of 2000. To be honest, Maeve WAS relieved to be free of her obligation to be sunny and perfect every minute of her existence. And she wouldn't be needing any more additions to her shelf for awhile. Twenty-four Employee of the Month trophies were more than enough—it was time to explore new paths and fantasies—as herself. She thought about her encounter with Miss K. and Madame T., and imagined playing with them, but this time of her own free will.

Yes, just maybe she would get herself captured again someday.