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[Author's Note: Like the description says, this is a testing/solution euphoria denial fic. Alternatively, it's just straight up orgasm denial, depending on how you read Wheatley's reactions during chapter 8. Fair warning that some of this gets a little… intense for Wheatley, and also warning for blatant sexual themes and nudity/sexuality, if the "M" rating wasn't clear enough, there.
Also—this is AU in the sense that there is no looming reactor core explosion. This fic was inspired by a myriad of portalkink "test denial" fills, as well as how much my laptop lags while playing Portal 2. You'd think testing wouldn't be so hard on a CPU, but—well… you'll see.]
Chell's return to "Wheatley Laboratories" had been full of many not-so-pleasant surprises. Namely, the knowledge that the mainframe she'd plugged tiny little Wheatley into had testing urges actually programmed into the god damned thing—she hadn't foreseen his power trip, and she DEFINITELY hadn't expected him to want to test her.
"The itch" was to blame, she knew. He had made that very clear to her, when describing how "good" it felt for him to have tests solved by her. His enthusiasm was almost innocent in how he had led her into that first test, with an optic bouncing in and anticipation, so full of self-satisfaction and excitement at the fact that the test had been made by him.
He was proud. Wheatley had been proud and excitable and chattery enough for it to seem like nothing had ever happened, like he had never turned against her and tried to punch her down the pit. Those uplifting parts of his persona stood out to her, bright even through the power-hunger, the happy babble feeling like jagged, irregular shocks to the heart as she'd made her way through those first few tests.
She wasn't sure how she'd felt about his reactions to the solutions, at first. It was... unexpected, something well past just simple relief from the itch, something nearly perverse—or maybe it only sounded that way to her because of Wheatley's obvious lack of—ah—subtlety.
Either way, it was something that should not have drawn out the sensations from her body it had drawn out; her heartbeat, which normally maintained a steady, lockstep rhythm throughout the testing chambers, rose; a hot flush spread across her cheeks to her ears and down her neck; and a weakness she had not felt before shot down her legs straight into her knees, producing a slight tremor.
The first time it had happened, she'd felt betrayed by these physical reactions, and damn near as ready to resist them as she was ready to resist him. The mere fact that it was him, his fault that she felt this way, angered her—no residual empathy had been left over from before he had betrayed her, so why was her body telling a different story?
It was true that Chell had had a lot of feelings about the little sphere up until that point. He was... cute, in an idiotic, never quiet sort of way. However, she could have found any other core just as cute if it had shared those quirks, it was not a matter of him having a clearly masculine voice—or, she had believed wasn't, until he had moaned so blissfully at her button pushing. Add in the nearly innocent neediness and longing stares he'd given her as she proceeded through each test, and it was no wonder Chell found it hard to concentrate…
She'd never had this problem with GLaDOS—GLaDOS had watched her discretely from cameras mounted high upon the walls, staring down with glowing, red eyes. That in itself had been unsettling enough, as had the sleek, cold roboticness of her voice, its tones far more distorted than Wheatley's, somehow even more recorded-sounding than Cave Johnson himself.
But Wheatley? He had set monstrous screens inside of every chamber to leer at her from and show off. Really, they were huge, and often placed precisely where she'd had to look—there was nothing more unsettling than trying to solve a test with him leaning in, staring, clearly enjoying himself as he fidgeted and waited for her to press the button to finish the test.
His babbling throughout the chambers only made things worse for Chell. She tried to forget about him, breathing in deeply before exhaling slowly, focusing one-hundred percent on the test as if it could help silence the cheerfully needy male voice coming through all of the speakers at once. Currently, those tactics were in play, with a bonus: she was trying to absorb herself wholly within the blue, oddly fluid muteness of an excursion funnel, as if doing so would drown out his voice.
As surprisingly quiet as it was, she could still hear it. "You're mine, luv," Wheatley cooed from his monitor at the head of the chamber, just as Chell watched a final, broken tile attached to the chamber floor float past beneath her through the blue hue of the funnel. She stared down into the bottomless pit, internally regretful that there were no weak spots, no hanging, distant portions of catwalks traversing the space to fall onto to begin her escape. "All mine…" Wheatley sighed from behind. "All wrapped in that funnel, there. Wonderfully, perfectly… ah, mine. As it is effectively attached to me. Just another part of tiny little Wheatley... who is obviously not so tiny anymore. You can see it through this screen, here. I'm huge!" He wiggled enthusiastically with a stupider, more gleeful expression on his face than she could ever have imagined.
Chell dropped from the funnel and landed on the ground with a slight clack, glancing back into the pit wistfully. "You might say this," Wheatley's voice was being broadcasted to her through speakers located on this end of the chamber, too, "That this entire place is part of me! Yep. I can feel you, there, luv—sort of tickles a bit, you could say, get a sort of small twinge of that feeling, when you solve a little more of the test. Probably's just a signal to show that you're on the right track." Chell saw Wheatley nod out of the corner of her eye. She was still trying not to listen—the quiet ffffop of an opening portal flicked briefly over his voice as she repositioned the funnel. "So, there you go. Bam. Part of me. And you're going to solve me, aren't you, luv?" Wheatley ignored the peal of the button being pressed, and Chell frowned as the cube completely missed the funnel and disappeared into the pit. She then angled the funnel in a different position instead.
"Go ahead, now, there's no rush," coaxed Wheatley. "Well—there is a bit of a rush, if I'm honest, I mean of course there is, as the itch gets positively tremendous the longer I have to wait, but… take your time, if you absolutely must. If you are totally, one-hundred percent stumped, I understand… it is a hard one, this."
He grinned, stupidly proud of himself. Chell kicked the lip of the button's pedestal in frustration. It was annoying—she was trying to quell the sensations his enthusiasm for testing brought out in her, but he was making it very hard for her when he pointed things like this out—she didn't need reminding of the extreme, effortless control he held over the facility. She didn't want to think about how everything was connected to him, including the floor panels beneath her long fall boots, the girth of the pedestal button before her, and the neat little line of aquamarine dots connecting to it that would flash bright yellow when she pressed it. She didn't need reminding of these things; and worse, there was the fact that he had set her this task solely to receive pleasure from it.
She let her hand ghost over the top of the pedestal button, cheeks burning a little more than they should have been. Her fingertip traced its uniform creases lazily. Could Wheatley feel even that, she wondered? She glanced warily at his screen.
Wheatley had always been a twitchy little robot, but there was no mistaking the subtle shiver in his casings as they opened slightly. "Hey…" he whined as his top shutter dropped in annoyance, "Look. I know I said take your time. I know I said that, but no teasing, okay? We both know you can solve it faster than this."
His optic was a pinprick. Chell stopped touching the button immediately—dropping her hand as if he'd caught her doing something dirty—but a second later she relaxed and pressed the switch, nodding with a deep breath.
The aquamarine dots flashed golden yellow, and a cube dropped straight into the funnel. Chell maneuvered them both with professional ease, finally sweeping the chittering little cube-creature into the gravity-free pocket of the energy manipulator. Back at the other end of the chamber, Wheatley's optic dilated back into happy neutrality.
"Oo, clever, luv." Wheatley might not have had lips, but Chell could hear the smile in his voice. "That's right. Now you're getting it, just look at you!"
While he babbled away, Chell worked—she brought the funnel up, so close to the ceiling that the top reaches of the funnel had disappeared against it, giving it an almost semicircular shape. Next, she grabbed the cube, and positioned her left toe at the base of the aerial faith plate—standard faith plate-flinging procedure—and stamped down on the catapult, hard, with her right foot. She arced over the bottomless pit gracefully, flung so high that the top of her pony brushed against the dirty panels overhead.
The funnel absorbed both her body and the shock of would-be impact, contrasting with the high-speed action of the last few seconds with its lazy, muted current. Through this, Wheatley sounded muffled (almost as muffled as he might have sounded if she had been submerged in water, she supposed, although she had no memory of such an experience if it had ever happened to her—save for the loud, splashy drips of it she'd accidentally gotten soaked with during her adventures in the basement of the facility).
Only once she'd jumped out, and landed on the correct side of the chamber with a springy, elastic ricochet from her heelsprings, did the agitation in Wheatley's words fully catch her attention.
"…been that long since the last test already? I mean honestly, it's crazy, you would think that it would give me a bloody break, wouldn't you? That the solution would leave it feeling nicely scratched, right? But no, no, it doesn't! I mean, not that it doesn't feel bloody amazing at first, aha, oh—" he rolled his eye, the normally smooth motion of it broken by his chuckle, "—but then that fades, and the itch never really leaves, you know? And I think it's getting worse, too!"
His optic bobbed with one last chuckle before he straightened, and Chell felt a smile tug at the sides of her face. Apparently, waiting on the brink of finishing a test was drawing the itch to the forefront of his circuits. She could see it in the way he moved. The usual, subtle breathing motion he made with his face was broken by the occasional tremor, as if he were trying to shove her onward himself. She watched him for a minute, her teeth partially exposed from the devilishly curious half-smile still playing about her lips—she was wondering what it must feel like for him. The itch; the scratch; and last but most importantly, how it must feel for him, being completely powerless in her hands like this. He lacked control over her, whether he knew it or not—there was no way he could ever make her solve the test. Yes, Chell thought—she could tease him, piece together every bit of the test tortuously slow—there was nothing stopping her. She was even sure that she could come up with something even more monstrous if she tried—she just wasn't sure if she wanted to push Wheatley that far or not.
It was true that on one hand, he deserved it. Did he ever deserve it. And, plus…
A small part of her brain—the part that had registered at their first meeting that Wheatley's voice and personality were strangely attractive for a computer—wanted to see his reaction to the test solving. That part, that small, little portion enjoyed it, enjoyed using the power she had to press the switch with and liked giving him the pleasure he needed.
Chell looked up at the screen and dropped the cube on the ground. "Ello!" Wheatley beamed, his optic flicking between the newly acquired cube she held with the energy manipulator and her face. "Nice to see you over here, finally. Finally over here. With that cube. Brilliant."
Chell frowned. But what if making him wait for the scratch didn't just draw out the itch—what if it made the reward stronger, too?
It was true that in the last chamber, Wheatley hadn't moaned as loudly. She had thought, at the time, that maybe it was because She had tricked him into shocking himself, twice—maybe the jolt of pain had numbed him against the solution euphoria, somehow. Maybe it would come back—Wheatley seemed certain it would—but did she really want to take that chance?
Already, she could see Wheatley's self-restraint cracking. His complete lack of patience could work to her advantage—his optic smile had vanished and his twitch had gotten worse, yet Chell had barely even got started testing him!
Yes, it was time Chell gave him a little dose of his own medicine and did a little testing of her own, on him. Testing the limits of the reward system could be fun—and maybe, if she pushed Wheatley the right way and made him suffer for long enough, he'd agree to let her go if she solved it!
And anyways, who knew… maybe it couldbe fun!
"Nnnngh," groaned Wheatley quietly, his optic narrowing as he growled. "Don't want to rush you, but could you—you know, get on with it, luv? And ah, press the… press the bahutton," he coughed comically. "Yeah, the bu-uhmtton. With the cube, there. Yeah, that's- that'd be much better, if you did that. Just throwing that out there."
—Especially if he kept on babbling like that.
Chell looked at him with an unreadable expression before beginning to circle, skirting the chamber's walls, as if she were indecisive or having some trouble with solving the test. She admired the excursion funnel above her head, and shot an experimental portal at the panel opposite the button, creating two crisscrossing currents of blue.
The beam rotated slowly, the cycling motion of it perfectly mirroring the speed at which it would press her cube right into his button. Eventually, if she dawdled for long enough, Wheatley would figure out what she was doing and then it wouldn't be as much fun—she might as well admit that she knew the answer and solve the chamber if that happened.
But, if she could somehow make it look like she were solving the test without actually doing so—especially if Chell could figure out a way to get that button nicely pressed without solving the test—it would drive Wheatley right up the wall, she'd bet.
Now, how to do just that…
Back near the middle of the room, the cube chittered loudly. With a small grin at Wheatley's impatient twitching and whine of "you're drawing it out, luv!" Chell approached the monstrosity and looked down.
Its red eyes glared back, pupils dilating and contracting at random, obviously broken. She felt bad for the things, really—but a bit better from the notion that she was about to get their creator back for all the pain he had caused not only them, but everyone.
She wiggled the fingers resting inside of the gun experimentally, before slipping its bulk from her wrist. It felt so wrong, not to wear it—but, after all, she was taking it off for science…
Chell rested the portal gun against the cube's side and sat down on the chittering creature cautiously, trying to ignore the way a ridge of its casing protruded somewhat, putting pressure on the area of the jumpsuit just between her legs. She felt a bit warmer than usual, there—the feeling had not yet grown to the aching, burning need she'd felt flashes of at the conclusion of the past tests, but the current sensation of pulsing warmth was enough to make the next part of what she was about to do more pleasurable than it should have been. She crossed her arms and legs and stared at the screen. How quickly would Wheatley get the message that he didn't deserve to have her solve his tests?
He fidgeted a little and blinked in frustration, as if the sight of her sitting there had him just itching to yell. "Come on, you," he coaxed, tilting his face to one side with a nod. "Get up. This isn't like a break chamber, luv. This is a test chamber, and you need to pick up that portal device, okay? And then I need you to… to solve it. Understand, yeah…?" his sentence dissolved into silence as Chell leaned back, stretching. His stare intensified to the point where she felt herself flush again.
"Y-you..." Wheatley sounded distracted. It was like he was struggling to find the words he wanted to say, for once. "You have to… to solve it. Otherwise… you can't to go on ahead to the next one. You know that…"
He blinked again and tilted further, both curious and very confused. His optic had settled somewhere around her chest, and surprisingly, Chell found that she didn't mind the idea of the little sphere staring so obviously at the shape of her breasts beneath the tightness of her tank top and undershirt. Her lips twitched as she stretched further, easing all of her weight onto her arms and arching her back gracefully, her chin tilting upward. Her spine clicked satisfyingly; through heavy eyelids Chell gave Wheatley a challenging half-smile and saw his eye—still aimed somewhere around her chest—widen, and his casings compact tightly in surprise. She grinned fully in spite of herself, letting her right hand ghost over the soft curve just beneath the side of the Aperture logo on her shirt, her thumb circling the hidden, sensitive tip before touching the other side.
"Um…" Wheatley blinked rapidly, shifting with awkward enthusiasm on the monitor before shrinking inside of his casings, unable to look away from her hand. "Well, that's… I…"
They hardened a little under her lightest touches, and coupled with the look on Wheatley's face a shiver of warmth chased through her body. It felt nice… she could almost let herself relax and drift off in simple pleasure, but there was still work to do.
"…don't know what you're, ah… doing, there…" Wheatley shook his face back and forth, as if trying to clear his head. "But I know it's not testing, so if you could please—? Go on? For me?"
She didn't move except to lower her hand, down to the hem where her underarmor met her jumpsuit pants. She fiddled with the knot around her waist, loosening it, never taking her fierce eyes—full of a sparkling, diamond-like thrill—off of his screen.
Wheatley gasped lowly in disbelief, almost recoiling against her stare before he recovered. "No? But I—well…" he looked around nervously before cooing, "Remember when we were friends?"
Chell bit her lip, remembering unwillingly. She thought back to the small sphere she had been acquainted with what felt like ages ago, in that dirty, derelict old room; bitter regret swelled inside of her throat at the thought. If only she had made a better attempt to dissuade him from transferring himself into the chassis, then maybe… somehow… they would have survived to see the world's surface—together.
"I do." Wheatley's voice was quiet, but it brought Chell back to the present immediately—here, where her only friend had been reduced to a monster (albeit a cute one), huge and omnipotent and driven by need. "I remember that. I remember it all the time—you and I, good old chums, and not enemies, on our way to escape together. Yes. That was fun, back then."
His voice had been filled with what sounded like genuine nostalgia—so it wasn't only her who deeply missed what could have been. Or so she believed, until a moment later, when Wheatley's voice had changed.
"But 'ere we are, in the present, and you are being really difficult." He was suddenly strained and frustrated, and Chell felt a twinge in her chest at the change; one that sent a prickly shock down her spine. Wheatley shook himself back and forth, his face showing displeasure. "Honestly, it's crazy! I thought you'd understand, thought you'd listen to me, if I'm honest. Thought you wanted to help old Wheatley, just like back then. Instead of sitting there, doing absolutely nothing. While I'm over here, needing you to finish. Waiting and needing it sooolllvveeeddd, luv, just finish the test…"
The impatience he felt at Chell's obvious lack of concern for his test's solution had momentarily coaxed a full-fledged whine from him. He broke off as Chell stood up abruptly, his iris dilating back into its usual wide-eyed and curious tri-tone blue.
She'd done enough showing off for him—clearly, even though her breasts had held Wheatley's attention for a little while, the testing was still the number one thing on his mind, and she planned on taking full advantage of that. Wiggling a little, Chell slipped the tied jumpsuit top from around her waist and turned, putting her back to the screen.
She let a devilish smile spread fully across her face as she slipped her white Aperture tee over her breasts and up over her head, fully exposing the light blue shirt underneath. "Ah!" cried Wheatley from behind, and a dull, but not unpleasant flush bloomed in her cheeks and neck as she heard him straining to see to no avail. In front of her, a couple of panels tried to lift themselves up to peer at her with their expressionless, azure eyes, but their robotic arms had been pinned and broken by Wheatley when he'd smashed the posterior end of the room into the main chamber.
"Nnnnngh," muttered Wheatley, more to himself than to her. "Can't… can't see… Can you—?"
A little huff of laughter shook her shoulders at the unfinished question. Grinning fully, Chell gripped the sides of the blue undershirt and worked its hem up from beneath her underarmor. She then flung it up over her head and off, shivering a little at the feeling of cool air meeting her sensitive, superheated skin.
The sounds of Wheatley straining to see grew even more persistent at the sight of her back—bare, save for the skin-colored sports bra still hugging her gently around her chest. Panels shivered and whined, as did the machine arms holding up his monitor as he readjusted it, endlessly craning to see exactly what she was doing.
More desperate and surprised sounds came from him in the form of little, high-pitched words like "Ah!" and "But—!" before Wheatley burst into a frantic, slightly squeaky panic. "Ah no, no, no! Wait! Wait, please, what are you doing? Turn around, please, I want to see! Come on, come on, I want to see that!"
Using her body to shield what she was doing from his sight, Chell gathered up her discarded items and kneeled beside the cube. She had decided that she would go along with the idea from earlier, even if it was not the most foolproof—there was the chance that she'd been wrong in her assumptions and that things like bunches of fabric wouldn't stand in the way of the test being solved. There were other problems in her mind, too, but the fact was that there simply wasn't a better, plausible way for her to make the test appear to be solved when it wasn't.
Working with careful, steady hands, she began to tie the jumpsuit top to the wire frame of the cube securely, taking care not to upset the poor creatures any more than they already had been. She petted each head and finished off the knots, creating a makeshift pouch where she could tuck the remaining clothing in behind. The result was for one side of the cube to be almost entirely blocked off by a three-inch pad of tightly bunched together fabric.
"Admiring that, are you?" Wheatley's voice floated over her shoulder; loud, as if he had just noticed that she had been ignoring him in favor of his creations, and he was unbearably proud of them. "That's mine. I made that. Made those to solve the tests… for when you weren't around, that was," he laughed, not truly amused. "Having you is so much better than boxes-with-legs though, if I'm honest. Yes. You're much faster… smarter, too, get the tests done right… well, when you cooperate, that is…"
He sounded incredibly bitter, which made Chell secretly very happy as she straightened and retrieved the portal device.
You're my one chance to get out of here, she thought sadly as she stared down at the cube. It chittered in reply, it's 'voice' muffled through the fabric. If, after all of her hard work, the test simply solved and Wheatley received his euphoria… well, she might never break out of the testing tracks without outside help!
Chell turned around. The first thing she saw was Wheatley—the look on his face was a pained smile, which instantly changed to one of complete, pleasant surprise as his optic darted occasionally down to her chest. She felt warmth creep back up her neck and spread across her cheeks as she shifted the weight of the portal device in her hands, holding her magnificent posture unabashedly.
"Oo, you're starting now, aren't you?" He cooed, sounding excited but forceful, almost demanding. Chell's only reply was to sweep the cube up into the energy manipulator and give him a short, curt nod, choosing to ignore the way his pupil only left her front to stare at the cube instead. "Thank you, great, that's great…"
"Yes. Yes. Ooooh." Wheatley wiggled excitedly. "Ooh, brilliant luv, you have no idea how hard it's been, waiting for this…"
He squirmed again, babbling endlessly while she worked. Chell set the cube down carefully, precisely in the correct position on the chamber floor—not on top of the sleek, smooth black stripes of non-portalble panels, but resting just over the uniformly grey, portalble ones. Then, Chell steadied the gun and took aim at the space above and below the exit platform, and fired two portals respectively, her heart rate slowing back down into that familiar, lockstep rhythm that accompanied the triumph and excitement that only feigning the conclusion of a test could bring.
"It's almost over now, almost done," he nodded enthusiastically. Wheatley's optic was heavy-lidded on the monitor, his voice growing increasingly husky, yet still too full of excitement to sound entirely relaxed and languid. "So close. Just a little longer, yeah, little portal over there, that's perfect," he directed, "And go on, then—up to that platform, just like that. Aaaand, yes—nicely done, now let's see what you can do, luv! Finish it, please!"
The tick of her heelsprings knocking against the platform's metal grate with each step was lost amid his voice and the distant, repetitive clickclickclick of the excursion funnel. Chell's hands began to sweat—out of the corner of her eye, she could see Wheatley looking at her, his eye looking startlingly, almost blindingly blue this close to. Maybe that was partly why his stare affected her so much more than GLaDOS's had, she thought as she took aim at the cube—Wheatley's eye was beautiful, there was no denying it.
Wheatley was surprisingly quiet as she popped a portal beneath the cube. Together, they watched it drift up, and up—she breathed in deeply, filling her lungs properly, the excited flutter of her heart beginning to thump firmly inside of her chest.
A corner of the cube scraped gently against the chamber ceiling. Beside her, Wheatley twitched, uncomfortably tense. A strained, almost pitiful little whine escaped from him at the sight of the almost-finished test.
Chell exhaled. It was now or never.
She took aim and fired at the square panel directly opposite the button. Fffffop.
"Ohhhh," Wheatley groaned instantly, sounding almost lazy and laid-back as the cube made its way through the portal toward the button. "Here we go… Heeeere it comes. Finally…"
Chell was just as restless as he was. Either that little knot of fabric was about to hit the button first and would refuse to unravel, keeping Wheatley wound just as tightly from the itch and hovering on the very edge of the solution, or the test would solve and Wheatley was about to receive his most anticipated (and biggest, hoped the small, secret portion of Chell's brain) burst of solution euphoria yet. She had no way of knowing which would happen, but there was a five-in-six chance that all of her hard work would go to waste and the test would finish now.
She swallowed hard, both nervousness and excitement pooling in her belly along with the warm flush that hadn't left since she'd stood up in front of him, wearing only her bra. Wheatley's obvious expectation that the test would solve along with the five-in-six probability of the test actually solving did not help to quell the needy feelings—in fact, it made them worse, much, much worse.
So she tried to ignore them for now, watching, breathing, and waiting with tingling nerves, while Wheatley fidgeted in similar anticipation, anxious for the jolt of pleasure to hit. Above them, the hum of the excursion funnel increased to a full-on whine, clicking away frantically as the cube approached the button, finally compressing it with a soft, prolonged click.
"Auuuughh." The sound he made was a breathlessly relieved sigh as his optic slid closed. "Ye—" He broke off, confused, eye flying back open to reveal a tiny pinprick for an optic, darting upward in his shell to stare at what he could see of the button. "Hold on. What—?"
The tight little knot of fabric had stopped the cube about 3 inches away from the button. The clothing had compressed it without activating it, and the test hadn't counted as solved—Wheatley would need the surface of the cube to press the button, free of the knot of cloth, if he wanted to receive his solution euphoria. Chell tried to keep her face deadpan and free of laughter or any hint of a blush, but it was a hard thing to manage.
"What's that, what's happening?" Wheatley's voice still hadn't lost the absolutely relaxed and heavy quality that came along with the so-called imminent euphoria. He squirmed a little more, waiting in anticipation, strung tight before his drawl automatically transformed into a pained groan as the lack of expected stimulus set in and he realized that the test wasn't about to solve any time soon. "Nnnnnngh!" he shouted in frustration, spreading his plates wide as his eye popped out as far as it would go. "Oh, you! WHAT'VE YOU—? ARE YOU MAD?" He was almost screaming in desperation, absolutely panicked. "ARE YOU—OH, I DONT BELIEVE IT! ARE YOU HAVING A LAUGH?"
Oooh, that was really nice, she thought, her pupils dilating slightly as the rush of adrenaline from leaving the test so maddeningly close rushed through her veins. She'd guessed that he'd have a strong reaction to being played with like this, but this was fantastic—the echoes of his angry, panicked shouts died away and were replaced with a slew of many smaller, desperate sounds, each feeding Chell's thrill of power and adrenaline.
"Oh, come... come on... ghhhk... just... push... the... bloody... nnngh, cube! Push the button! Put that cube right on it! Please!I'm asking politely—PUSH THE BLOODY BUTTON!"
His voice was loud, filling the chamber, shaking dirt off the ceiling and making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She could feel how erect her nipples were, poking through the front of her sports bra as she dared to move from beside the exit door to stand in front of his monitor instead.
"Oho!" he half-sobbed, sounding wounded. "Nnngh! Please, I'm being nice! I'll be good, I swear! It just—AUUUUGH, it feels so bloody good when you do it! Please! I need it, I absolutely need it, you're the only one who can end this!"
Wheatley moaned desperately again, his tiny iris bouncing between the excursion funnel, the cube, and her narrowed eyes frantically. "Ooooh! You're right there, come on! Seriously! I would do it for you…"
Chell saw Wheatley's plates suddenly puff up with enthusiasm, and the frantic, wild twitching and looking around slowed down enough that he actually smiled at her almost smugly, as if he thought he'd finally found a tactic that she couldn't ignore. "If you were in this position," he began, the panic in his voice subsiding with self-satisfaction, "Patiently waiting just like I have been, for me to find the bloody answer and finish it for you, I would have already pressed the button."
Chell shifted, frowning, staring down at him in disdain. And? she thought to herself. Why should she care?
Wheatley's top shutter dropped down on the monitor before he hissed dangerously, his West Country drawl as smooth and thick as ice cream. "Solved it," he purred with relish. "As well as I bloody well could. Oo, imagine that…" his optic travelled slowly down her body before moving back up to her face, "You, in my position, maybe even with me down in there instead, eh? Hook you up to this big old mean body of mine, this facility, feed you the itch, so that you know what it feels like."
He wiggled, pleased with himself. Chell cocked an eyebrow at him.
"And you would love it. He'd make sure of that, you know, the itch, he would—yeah, best you don't fight him, luv. Just let him work his way inside until you can hardly bloody stand it—absolutely maddening, that—and watch while I solve it—"
That was enough. Chell had had enough of it. Like lightning, a portal was shot carelessly to one side, and the cube fell to the platform with a thunderous crash.
That was it. Did that little moron seriously think he was going to get her to do as he wanted by expressing the wish she be plugged into the chassis and fed the itch? He had to be crazy. He had to be mental. Chell grit her teeth, biting back a growl, re-engaged the energy manipulator on the cube and jumped down from the platform.
"Wait!" she heard Wheatley call from behind. "Where are you going?!"
Chell kneeled beside the cube on the floor again, straining to untie the knots of clothing from around it with lightly trembling hands. She couldn't decide what she'd like better—to torment him ruthlessly until he broke down, or to cave into him and give him what he wanted most.
It was hard. She was mad, and the anger worked alongside the mix of adrenaline and arousal in her body to form a heady concoction and haze that was difficult to think through. She'd never felt so hot, damn near feverish—and just when she'd gotten the cube free of her clothes she ripped her bra off as well, delighting in the surprised "Oh!" that echoed through the chamber.
Her face burned. Her neck was on fire and her heart was beating fast, pumping more anger and adrenaline through her veins. Her skin shone sleek with sweat, and with a deep breath—the most calming one she could muster—she swept the loose strands of hair that had escaped from her pony back over her head.
So, Wheatley wanted to play, did he? He wanted to solve her tests? He wanted to satisfy her itch?
Well… he could start by satisfying her itch for revenge.
Wheatley followed her every move intently, his iris zoomed all the way in, filling the screen with his aquamarine pupil. Chell had left her jumpsuit top, tank top, undershirt and bra on the floor in a heap, and was traversing the chamber floor with the cube in hand, playing ignorant to Wheatley's constant stream of comments on her progress.
"You know, this may come as a surprise to you—" Was it just her imagination, or was he talking even more than usual? "Aha, as it was my job once, to look after all the humans in this place—but I didn't actually know why you wear those things, those, ah—clothes, until just now. Previously,I had thought it was to look stylish, if I'm honest—thought all you test subjects wanted to look dapper, all dressed up fancy in the same way for some reason—bit boring, if you ask me, the color orange. As well as everyone looking the same, all the time. But I suppose you all do it for a reason, right? Vital safety protocols, or something. Still, though—a bit of accessorizing never hurt anybody… so that's an idea, there. Accessorizing. A little more original. Could have tried that."
Chell huffed in silent exasperation. Somehow, drawing out the test like this was making Wheatley even stupider. She wondered why—if he had been human, and if he had had a certain male organ that would have possibly made the little blood he had drain from his impossibly small brain down to his groin, she would have understood it—but as it was, there was no real reason for the spike in idiocy.
It was frustrating. Frustrating, because it was distracting, listening to him babble on like that, endlessly… it was distractingly cute.
"But this… this look is much better on you," Wheatley grinned innocently from his screen. "Seeing you like this. Very, ah, nice. And here's an idea, here's an idea, the last thing I'm gonna say on the matter: you should seriously consider wearing this all the time. Suits you much more than that other look, luv. This one's unbelievably trendy. Seriously. I can't stop looking."
She huffed again, but this time with a small smile on her face. So, she wasn't the only one distracted—Wheatley did tend to babble more frequently when he felt nervous or excited, and clearly he was interested beyond mere science in seeing her bare chest like this. She didn't mind either; in fact, part of her felt glad that he was enjoying it. It would undoubtedly make this next part of the test even more fun for her…
The excursion funnel swallowed her up, bathing her bare skin in bright blue. Chell felt the sticky strands of the hair plastered to her forehead peel away, the lack of gravity oddly calming and soothing against her overheated, aching body. Quietly, she could hear Wheatley still babbling away, however muffled.
"Ohh, my. Look at you, just look! That's lovely. A lovely shade of blue." Even through the whisper of the funnel, she could hear the smile in his voice. On the monitor, Wheatley nodded reassuringly. "Wonderful. You look great."
Chell's lips twitched with a flash of amusement before her face reset back into super-concentration mode, a slight crease forming between her eyebrows. The chamber floor grew further away as she floated up alongside the cube, until the back of her head hit the ceiling with a light bump; Chell raised her free hand to press against it to keep her neck free of re-aimed the portal device, and fired once—a speeding shot of electric orange bolted through the air and clung to the square panel just opposite the button with an echoing fffffop. The loss of the gravity beam sent her into an immediate, brief freefall before she sunk back into it a few feet below, relishing the muffled muteness once more.
Wheatley was still babbling; she could hear him even over the muteness and she had a nice view of his screen down below. She didn't care to look at him just now, however—with zero time to waste, Chell locked the gravity field back onto the turret-cube and braced herself for impact with the button.
"Ooh, yes!" he was cheering, his voice a never-ending stream of enthusiasm. "Yes, yes, yes—you've almost got it, aaaalmost got it, now haven't you, you clever, clever girl! You're going to be good to me this time, aren't you… so bloody good, I bet… you're going to make this feel absolutely tremendous… finally. About bloody well time you solved it! Seriously, was getting tired of waiting…"
She would get to it first. In front of her, the super-colliding button seemed to grow larger, the burning red glow radiating from it reflecting against her face and chest.
"Ahhhh," said Wheatley with an excited wiggle, his eye locked on the sight of her topless in the funnel. "Ohhhohohoh, yeah! Heeeere we go. This time…" Chell felt a shiver chase itself up her spine as she saw him lean in out of the corner of her eye, expectant, staring straight at her breasts, his optic narrowing to a slit. "Don't want to build it up too much… buuuut, yes, I think this one's gonna be good, I can tell…"
Chell felt the moderately cool surface of the button press gently against her chest, immediately hardening her nipples and sending another shiver up her spine. The button activated, creating a flash of bright yellow to her right—but minus physical contact with the cube, the circuit couldn't close and the test couldn't solve. Chell held the cube up, away from the button, allowing the full strength of the beam to press her into its smooth surface.
Wheatley was clearly still tense and aching. She could hear him muttering, sounding breathless and husky once more. "Come on…" she thought she could detect a trace of annoyance beneath the feverish desperation, but if he had realized that she'd cheated him out of the solution the second time around, he didn't yet show it. "Oh, just hit me with it already…"
Chell shifted against the button, grinning, and Wheatley's pleas dissolved into a shout of frustration.
"Gyyaaa—auuuuughhhh!" he positively gasped, shuddering desperately under the influence of the build-up and lack of release yet again. "Auuuuugh!" he panted wildly, his voice gone ragged, "Y-you—! God, oh—nnngh—you can't—gyahh—do this to me, I can't—!"
She could almost imagine him up in his lair, darting around frantically from screen to screen, crazy to make her press the button-or worse, thought Chell wickedly, maybe he can feel me with these buttons…
There was something about the thought of having such an adorably dim british robot staring straight at her bare back, simultaneously capable of experiencing the sensation of having her breasts pressed right up against the part of him he wanted touched most—visibly straining to come that made her hands itch to reach below her waistline, but she mastered the urge almost immediately. She would not give into her itch like he had given into his.
"Nngh... let... me... please... auugh... oh, ugh... come on... gyyah, let me have it, let me, please, finish it, I NEED to... I can't... oh, bloody HELL it's not working—"
With each strained word, Wheatley forced the excursion funnel to move faster and faster, pressing more firmly into Chell's back. She didn't mind, though—the increase in speed sent a wave-like rhythm through the tube and Chell felt herself rubbed gently against the button's surface. The whine of the mechanism grew high-pitched as Wheatley pushed and pushed and the frantic clickclickclick became a crazed frenzy, but there was absolutely no way she was about to give in and solve the test anytime soon. Chell grinned, stretched, and yawned lazily as Wheatley cried out, "RRRRRRGHHH!"—she concealed a satisfied breath of laughter at the sound and the following panicked, half-formed sentences and pleas tumbling out of him.
"You're teasing me!" he moaned, his voice cracking pitifully as though he were on the verge of tears. "You're being a great big bloody tease!"
She saw him blink—the curved surface of the monitor was angled just far back enough for her to see a distorted image of his face—his optic glowing an almost innocent shade of blue.
He was right. And she was most certainly was enjoying it—enjoying it far too much to actually let him believe she was ever going to solve it for him.
She would eventually solve it—she craved to hear his reaction of aching release too much not to—but Chell had all day—she could make him suffer for as long as she wanted in here.
Wheatley rolled his eye fully and groaned in frustration. "NNNNNNGH! Oh, please, come on, please do it, you're practically right on it! You know the bloody answer! Waiting there like you don't know it, but you can't fool me, luv! I know you know the answer, now SOLVE MY BLOODY TEST! PLEASE SOLVE IT! SOOOOLVE IT!"
He'd shouted the last few words, sounding almost utterly deranged. He panted a lot, voice twitching sporadically as he strained to make it work properly. "I'm going to… oh, I can't… oh, god, please, I'll do whatever you want, I'll be nice, I'll find you your parents, I'll get you a new jumpsuit, I'll smash that potato for you, I'll find a way to make this better for you I promise I absolutely promise I'll… I'll… just… please…"
Chell grinned cruelly as Wheatley groaned and cried out, flailing as if trying to physically force the excursion funnel to push the cube into the button. His begging was cute, she had to admit—but even the delicious sounds he was making and the desperation in his every word just weren't going to get him what he wanted from her.
"You're a monster," he whimpered, sobbing, "You are a MONSTER of a woman I—why are you doing this to me I… I don't understand! I…"
Wheatley broke off, and Chell waited for him to keep begging, but was rewarded with silence. That was worrisome, she thought, frowning—since when was Wheatley ever silent? He should have been shouting, borderline absolutely mad with test withdrawal!
Chell wiggled against the button, trying to prompt a reaction from him. He did make a noise—but it was different than the others. It was curious, almost surprised; and held none of the desperation he'd shown during the past few minutes. It was almost knowing, and a wave of foreboding flowed through her at once, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand upright.
"Ohhh, I see, heh heh," he cooed softly and then chuckled. "I know why you're doing this... can't keep it from me, luv."
Chell swallowed hard—she could almost imagine the sight of his face, nodding as he prepared for a speech, as gloriously smug as he always was when he thought he was being smart. "You see, I am quite brilliant, and also quite fair, unlike you," he began, the smile in his voice evident even before he chuckled. "Heh, heh. You've been playing me, this whole time, mmm? Having me on. Think you're the one in charge… well."
Chell's teeth sunk into her bottom lip. "I see it now," Wheatley whispered dangerously. "I'm onto you, lady. You think you've got tiiiiiny little Wheatley aaaaaaall figured out, wrapped all nicely around your finger, there. Snug. And you're loving it, aren't you. Yeah, you like that! Love it to death! Leading me on. Enjoying yourself, aren't you, obviously, because poor old Wheatley's nearly in pain waiting for you to finish! Yeah, I might have said it was a mere little tickle of an itch before, but that's an understatement! My fault, should have been a bit clearer before—it's maddening."
He paused, as if waiting—hoping—that she would solve the test. There was silence, aside from the repetitive clicking of the funnel and the dry, almost windy hum of it; opposite her, the fluorescent bulbs flickering inside of an observation office buzzed drearily. "Maddening…" Wheatley repeated with even more emphasis. "But you don't even care! Look at you, up there, thinking, 'Oh, Wheatley, he needs my test results, and he's dumb enough to let me have a go at teasing him, make him beg for it'—NO, luv. See, that's where you're wrong. I'm not going to make the same mistakes this time. In fact," she could almost hear him lean in, imagine him fill the screen with his flared out panels so that the spherical sides of his casings disappeared from view, "I think it's time I taught you a lesson, you smelly, monstrous little human. You are an awful little test subject!"
Chell's eyes flashed daggers. She was suddenly so very angry—her heartbeat spiked, hammering away inside of her chest. After all of this—all of her hard work—he thought he was still the one in charge, here! He thought that he was still capable of teaching her a lesson! The end of the portal device whipped around, cube still in tow, and she slammed it right into the button. The exit door below flew open and Wheatley shouted, the sudden contact as surprising and shocking to him as a bolt of electricity, but something wasn't right—the unhindered connection the cube held with the button wasn't enough.
Chell had privately hoped that the testing protocols were about to fully make up for the suffering she'd put him through, and not because she felt bad for him. She wasn't about to give into him when he still believed she was about to end this on his terms. No—she'd slammed the cube right into the button because the timing was perfect—his trust and confidence that she would eventually solve it had finally broken; he was weak; he was helpless; and he was entirely vulnerable, and it sent something within her into a shiver of delight…
Only, somehow, the test hadn't actually solved yet.
Chell looked down at the platform far beneath her feet. Oh—right.
Wheatley had still been talking as she'd slipped out of the beam and dropped, landing upon the metal grate with a quiet metallic ring from her boots. "Oh, bless your heart," he was saying confidently, "Can't get me excited for it again, not this time, luv! I already told you, I'm onto you, and I'm not saying another word until you finish it properlaaaahhh-oo-ohhhhhhhh—"
The solution euphoria hit him hard without warning. She'd got him right when he hadn't been expecting it, when he'd still been talking and frustrated and unfulfilled. The noise he made was a wonderfully loud, shuddering gasp of shocked pleasure, almost a rough growl—the sound of it sent shivers chasing down Chell's spine again, and goosebumps erupted all over her skin. She chanced a curious glance at his face on the screen—caught completely by surprise, Wheatley arched upward, his optic heavily lidded and unfocused in a haze of pure, pleasurable stimulus.
Chell flushed immediately and looked away, her own blood rushing in her ears even over the sounds of him enjoying himself, making her feel dizzy and breathless. Her pants felt uncomfortably tight and she itched to remove them; her fingers worked their way beneath the waistband but paused before she could work them down over her hips. The thought of stripping completely was enticing and distracting, but on second thought, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd got to her in such a way.
Suddenly, Chell realized that the chamber had grown unusually quiet. Had he finished already? She was more than a little disappointed that the burst hadn't been better for him than the others, especially since she'd gotten her hopes up that he'd thoroughly enjoy her hard work. But then—chancing another glance at his screen—she realized that Wheatley wasn't moving. His face had completely frozen—he appeared to be staring straight ahead, his every feature still expressing utmost pleasure.
Cocking her head, Chell raised her arm and tapped lightly against the thick glass of his screen. Wheatley continued to stare straight at her, his optic unfocused. These screens were a live feed, she knew—that meant that the probability of it being a problem with the monitor wasn't very high—especially not judging by the current of interference still covering the broadcasted image of him with translucent, staticky lines.
As she watched, the aforementioned lines doubled, blurring and distorting the image. Her heart raced and Chell stepped backward, nearly falling off the edge of the platform by accident. She caught herself in time, thankfully—her reflexes were still excellent even though she was feeling shaken and worried—why wasn't Wheatley moving, she wondered? Had something happened, when she had solved the test? Was the surge of solution euphoria she had built up from teasing the system like that huge enough to ACTUALLY break him?
Had she pushed Wheatley just a little too far this time?
As if in answer to her question, the facility responded with a tremendous, shuddering groan, shaking Chell in her boots. Not a second later, the power to both the chamber and the distant clusters of test chambers flickered, panels wilting, and Wheatley's motionless face disappeared with a blinding burst of white-grey light. The power flux had caused the excursion funnel, too, to cut out, and luckily she had not still been standing beneath it—the cube fell from its position pressed tightly against the button and landed on the platform, precisely where she had just been standing, with a heartstopping crash.
When the lights came back on again, the surge proved too much and the fluorescent bulbs glowing from within the high observation office exploded with a cascade of sparks. Then, lacking any real source of light, the chamber was lit deep, icy blue from the lethargically rotating funnel grinding overhead, painting Chell's bare skin a pleasant cobalt hue. The walls rumbled again, panels nodding as their eyes winked back into azure life, and both the sound and the motion was mirrored all throughout the testing track—shivers chased themselves around and around in the form of waves of shuddering and blinking bright blue eyes. The monitor fizzled on with another burst of static and Wheatley's face popped on just as there was a whine of sound, so loud and so unexpected that Chell trembled in fright before she recognized it as being the rest of his moan. Wheatley was moving again, his chassis arching backward almost gracefully, his face leaning forward and his optic shuttering to just a blissful slit, revealing a small, flickering sliver of his optic. He stuttered hard then, his system glitching on the powerful surge of it hard enough to be forced into a loop.
"—ohhhhh, yeeee—ohhhhh, yeeee—"
Chell's hands shook. With burning cheeks, she fumbled around wildly, looking for a way to help him—she spotted the cube, still laying neatly in front of the exit. Hastily, she dropped it off the platform, re-aimed the portal device, and redirected the cube and the funnel into the button. Either the exit would open and she would be able to escape from the noise, or perhaps it would force the system to finally finish and Wheatley could recover from the euphoria.
The cube made contact softly, but she couldn't hear the sound of the exit reopening over his voice. "—eeessss!" he shuddered finally, overcome. "Ohhhhh, wowww. That felt good, that felt really good, ohh…" His voice dissolved into a series of hoarse pants, as if he were trying to catch his non-existent breath. He tried to talk again, but the only sound he could make was a faint 'oh'—clearly, he was completely drained.
Eventually, Wheatley regained his breath and rose from the side of the screen, blinking slowly in satisfaction. "Well done," he purred clumsily, his voice pitched several notes lower in lazy afterglow. "Seriously, luv, God… yes." He looked up at her, his chassis trembling slightly, almost too weak to hold himself up. Then he gave up completely and sank back against the screen and chuckled breathlessly, whirring happily to himself. "Best test yet, I'd say."
Chell frowned at him. Wheatley looked absolutely exhausted, almost on the point of passing out. Ignoring the ever-more persistent feelings of heat radiating from her groin, Chell wondered—what if she did all this again, in the next test? Would Wheatley actually pass out, leaving her free to escape unhindered?
But now, come to think of it—did she actually want to escape? The part of her that simmered away with a determined, burning heat wanted her to stay. That part of her itched, and wanted a scratch—wanted relief, and the only way she was ever going to get that properly was through him…
Take me to your lair, Chell silently demanded on a whim, staring at the monitor. Take me to your lair.
Wheatley blinked slowly some more and tilted curiously, craning forward to stare at the motionless woman on the platform from beneath his heavy top shutter blearily, as if he were having trouble focusing on her. "What's that?" he asked.
Take me to your lair and I'll scratch this itch for you.
Plink, plink. She could practically hear the familiar sound of him blinking. "All right…" Wheatley purred finally. "I understand… you won't solve another one unless I let you go. Fair enough… but I'm not about to let you go, especially not after that test, ohh…" and then he added dangerously, "I've got a better idea. Get in the lift… luv."
Chell grinned, a challenging, sultry smile, before disappearing through the chamber doors—now that she had tested his limit, and the limits of the chassis protocols, it was about time she let him test her body to its fullest extent.
With a last glance back toward the room—showing only that the chamber doors had swept firmly closed upon her exit—she inhaled, and stepped into the lift, and exhaled slowly as the thick glass doors hissed shut around her and the tube sped off toward his lair.


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Chicken pillows recipe
If you live in Utah, like myself, then you most likely have heard of these delicious things. They're known as 'Chicken Pockets', 'Chicken Rolls' and 'Chicken Pillows'. Call them whatever you like, just know that they are good! If you're not familiar with these, they are a crescent dough crust filled with chicken and cream cheese. Then they're dipped in …
Chicken pillows are delicious crescent rolls, stuffed with creamy chicken, rolled in a crunch cheesy topping and topped with chicken gravy! Comfort food!
Chicken Pillows by The Jones Way... Super easy, inexpensive and yummy! Your kids and hubby will love them!
Chicken Pillows - My Sister-in-law made these for me after I had my baby and I am HoOkEd!!! =) Sooo Yummy and Sooo Easy!!!
Following is a Chicken Recipe and guest post by Sarah at A Thrifty Mom... enjoy!! You can frequently find coupons for crescent rolls, and here's a fun, non-traditional way to put them to use! Ingre...
Recipe for Chicken Crescent Roll Casserole - A tasty and hearty casserole to wrap up the winter. Chicken hidden underneath pillows of crescent rolls. Feed your crowd without breaking the bank.
These Chicken Pillows are a favorite at our house! Flavor-packed chicken and flake crescent dough. Yum!
These Chicken Pillows are a favorite at our house! Flavor-packed chicken and flake crescent dough. Yum!
Chicken Pillows - Buttery, flaky crescent roll crust wrapped around a simple chicken, cream cheese and cheddar filling and then drizzled with a chicken-y sour cream gravy. Click through to Busy-at-Home to get the recipe for this simple and delicious dish! #recipe #easyrecipe #simplesupper #recipes #maindish #chicken #foodporn
Pesto Chicken Pillows have a creamy chicken filling inside a buttery crunchy crescent roll.
Chicken Pillows with Gravy
chicken pillows - ingredients: Pillsbury Crescent rolls, cream cheese, butter, chicken, egg, Crackers, flour, ckn broth, milk, sour cream, shredded cheese, salt & pepper
Chicken Pillows. These look amazing and sound super easy! http://www.highheelsandgrills.com/2013/04/chicken-pillows.html
Chicken Pillows - Crescent rolls, shredded cheese, cream cheese - YUM!
Chicken Pillows - made these in an hour when unannounced company was on their way. They were a huge success!

subset: commoncrawl


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Nothing to Sink Your Teeth Into
By James Gorman: James Gorman is the author of ''The Man With No Endorphins'' and ''First Aid for Hypochondriacs.''
Published: June 11, 1989
FIRST OF ALL, let me say that my visit to Procter & Gamble was an enormous thrill for me, apart from the sucrose polyester I got to taste. For one thing, I had always wanted to dine in the Procter & Gamble kitchen, and I wasn't disappointed. It was neat, and I mean that literally. It gave every appearance of having been recently scrubbed down, no doubt with Bounty paper towels and Mr. Clean. After all, if Procter & Gamble doesn't have a clean kitchen, who does? Even more exciting, however, was the reaction I elicited from the company. It was the first time in my life that I have ever made a multinational corporation nervous, and the experience was a bracing one that I recommend highly to every American. It's better than voting.
In fact, I have never seen a more nervous multinational corporation. It took more than two months from the time I first invited myself to the company headquarters in Cincinnati until the invitation was at last accepted. During that period the public relations people strove to find a time when they could get me into the kitchen for the tasting I had requested. Once I did finally gain access to the home of Crisco and Oil of Olay, I heard all about how concerned the company was not to pressure, or even seem to pressure, the Food and Drug Administration.
The Procter & Gamble Company has a lot at stake. The F.D.A. is now reviewing more than 13,000 pages of documentation of almost 20 years of research, development and safety studies of the new substance I went there to taste.
Procter & Gamble doesn't want anything, least of all a journalist, to disturb the F.D.A.'s concentration, particularly since no one can predict how long this review will take. I sympathize. I figure that the company has, in its version of sucrose polyester, which it calls olestra, the means to effect a major change in human cultural evolution, or, if you prefer Procter & Gamble's phrasing, to meet consumer needs.
In this case, the particular consumer need has to do with fats and oils, a company specialty. Procter & Gamble was, after all, built on fats and oils; its first products were soap and candles. Today, of course, fats have a bad name. Eating saturated fat can kill you. It raises blood cholesterol levels and clogs the arteries with great gloppy plugs of atherosclerotic plaque that lead to massive myocardial infarctions. Ice cream, steak, eggs, brains - nowadays all these foods bring to the sensitive palate the aftertaste of mortality, particularly brains when they're not cooked just right. Time may once have chased virgins in a winged chariot, but now, when it pursues the American consumer, it rides a cheeseburger.
Not all fats are all bad. You need some fat to live. Polyunsaturated fats like corn oil do not seem to clog the arteries. And monounsaturated fats, like olive oil, are even better; they may actually help reduce blood cholesterol. Furthermore, oils are a major source of vitamin E. Still, the heart police - sometimes referred to as the ''health authorities'' - have told us to cut down our intake of all fats, saturated and un- , from 40 percent to 30 percent of the calories in our diet. If we were doing that, we would have met our own consumer need, in this case to live longer, by being sensible. But we're not. Fat consumption is not down, as Michael W. Tafuri, the director of Procter & Gamble's olestra product development division pointed out to me over ham and cheese sandwiches and potato chips in the company's kitchen. ''Why is that?'' he asked. ''Well, the reason is that fat tastes good.'' Obviously, there is a consumer need for something that tastes like fat but isn't.
OLESTRA IS A FAT substitute. (The Procter & Gamble people hate it when you call it ''fake fat.'') The company has asked the F.D.A. to approve its use in shortenings and oils and in the preparation of certain fried snacks, like potato chips. The thing about olestra that makes it special, and that made Procter & Gamble stock jump 10 percent within two days after the company petitioned the F.D.A. to use the substance back in 1987, is that it has no calories whatsoever. There is another fat substitute, called Simplesse, from the NutraSweet Company, that is also being considered by the F.D.A. But Simplesse is made from egg white and milk protein - it has some calories, some nutritional value, however small. Not sucrose polyester. This stuff is digestively inert. It doesn't enter the bloodstream. It rolls through the intestines like History of Western Civilization through a college student's head -none of it is absorbed. It is, as Tafuri describes it, ''zero nutritious.''
Perhaps fittingly, two Procter & Gamble scientists discovered the properties of olestra when they were trying to put together a ''super nutritious'' food for premature infants. They joined a sugar with fatty acids. When the fatty acids were attached to sucrose instead of glycerol, as they would be in a molecule of fat, the resulting structure left no place for digestive enzymes to get a grip and begin breaking down the molecule. The result is that although olestra feels like fat in the mouth, acts like fat in cooking and will stain your tie if you drop a chicken leg fried in it on your chest, it is not in any sense a food.


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Paul Begala was a chief strategist for the 1992 Clinton-Gore campaign, which carried thirty-three states and made Bill Clinton the first Democrat to win the White House in sixteen years. He served as counselor to the president in the Clinton White House, where he coordinated policy, politics, and communications. He is the author of four books, including Is Our Children Learning?: The Case Against George W. Bush; It's Still the Economy, Stupid; and Buck Up, Suck Up...and Come Back When You Foul Up (with James Carville). Begala is a CNN political commentator and a research professor of public policy at Georgetown University's Public Policy Institute. Paul earned both his undergraduate and law degrees from the University of Texas, where he was student body president. He and his wife live quietly in Virginia with their four boys and a German shepherd. (Okay, so they don't live too quietly.)
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Top 10 Lesbian Mothers In Fiction
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Damage Control by Jae is the second book in her Hollywood Series. I love this book so much that notRead more


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707 Broadway
San Diego, California 92101
United States
|Areas of Practice
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Paralegal - CD & PI
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Established law firm seeks experienced paralegal with 5+ years of construction defect, insurance defense and personal injury experience. Candidate must have extensive experience in case management, fu...
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Kennedy & Souza, APC is a 12-attorney firm looking to add two attorneys to its insurance defense general liability practice area. We have an amazing work environment and offer an exceptional benefits ...
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Alan Singer is a partner in Morgan Lewis's Securities Practice. Mr. Singer advises companies with regard to a diverse range of corporate and securities matters.
Andrew Hamilton is a partner in Morgan Lewis's Business and Finance Practice. Mr. Hamilton practices in the areas of mergers and acquisitions, private equity and venture capital, securities law, and general corporate counseling.


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Vintage Havana Girl's Distressed Blue Denim ShortsVintage Havana
$ 38.00
Stay cool and stylish all-year round. A denim shorts classic for your girl's closet. Features distressed details and raw-edged hemline and five pockets. Style with ANY top, tee, and sweater with a pair of sneakers for a casual look.
- Brand: Vintage Havana
- Shorts, Girls
- Materials: 98% cotton, 2% spandex
- Machine wash cold with like colors only, non-chlorine bleach when needed, tumble dry low, warm iron if needed
*Each garment is individually distressed so no two will be alike exactly
Size Guide
- Sizes 7 and 8 is equivalent to Girls US size S
- Size 10 is equivalent to Girls US size M
- Size 12 is equivalent to Girls US size L
- Size 14 is equivalent to Girls US size XL


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Latest News
Act of Dedication marks start of works at Arthur Rank Hospice
The Cambridgeshire community showed their support for the building of the Arthur Rank Hospice with the act of dedication of the land, conducted by the Bishop of Ely. Associate Louise Knights attended the event to mark the start of building work at the new £10.5million Hospice in Shelford Bottom, Cambridge.
Louise said she had been privileged to be in involved with the project; "Over the last 18 months we have had the opportunity to work with staff, volunteers, patients and visitors of the current Arthur Rank Hospice, learning and understanding how they work to provide the fantastic service they are looking at growing.
We have been inspired by the passion and reputation of the Hospice, the determination of the fundraising team and the caring nature of all of the staff and volunteers. We have got to know them and worked with them to design the new Hospice, which will be light and airy, with every bedroom having a direct connection to the gardens.
Internally the bedrooms will open into a large, double height communal space that will give patients, visitors and family an opportunity to come together. It was when a patient told me that this space is where she would like to do a jigsaw puzzle that I appreciated how important it will be, for the patients.
Now that the steel frame is under construction we are step closer to being able to provide the charity with the much needed space to grow and develop over the coming years."
Lynn Morgan, CEO of the Arthur Rank Hospice Charity said "After many months of frantic land preparation at the site of our new hospice at Shelford Bottom, the outline of the new hospice is beginning to emerge. Having 24 beds will make a significant difference to the number of patients we can support,"
The project is expected to be completed and the hospice opening to patients in autumn 2016.


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Michael J. McEvoy
Vice President, Global Payments Strategy
Telephone: 1-(617)-862-1921
Michael J. McEvoy is a consultant and researcher who also manages thought leadership efforts globally across MasterCard Advisors. In addition, Mike delivers an all-day course in payments to new hires at MasterCard and represents MasterCard as a Committee Member of the 'United Nations Capital Development Fund'.
Mike has 20 years of financial services experience as a senior manager and a consultant to major corporations in global financial services and information technology. Prior to joining MasterCard Advisors, he was Managing Director for ath Power Consulting, a provider of customer experience solutions for the financial services industry. Previously, Mike was Head of Banking Research at consulting firm Novantas and was a founding analyst and Director of Research for TowerGroup. He also founded and ran his own consulting firm for a number of years, consulting to financial institutions in North America and Europe and has worked as an economist for both the Irish and French governments. Mike has lived and worked in Ireland, the UK and the US and undertaken consulting assignments in Europe, Asia, Latin America and North America. He therefore brings a global perspective to his work.
A distinguished advisor and researcher in banking innovation, payments and strategy, Mike has been frequently quoted in the media and a regular speaker at leading industry conferences. He received his MBA from the Wharton School of Business and also holds a Master's Degree in Economics (econometrics).
For MasterCard Compendium:
Enabling Financial Inclusion Through "Alternative Data"
EU Payment Legislation Carries Implications for Card Acquirers
EU Payment Legislation Drives New strategy Solutions for Card Issuers
Unlocking Transaction Data to Connect Consumers to Local Businesses
Forget the Cliches: Bank Strategy Needs to Inherit Millennial Spending Power
Toward A More Successful Digital Channel Acquisition
International intrigue: Merchants Leverage Data to Gain Share of Cross-Border Spending
Pushing Loyalty from "One-Shot" Campaigns to Integrated Marketing
Loyalty at Retail: How to Measure Engagement and Effectiveness
Other Publications:
Why Retailers Should Measure Their Loyalty Program's Effectiveness
International Intrigue: How Retailers Can Gain Share of Cross-Border Spending


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Rebel unification 'impossible,' says leader
Murad says groups should stay separate but work for common aim
October 29, 2012
It is impossible to unify pro-autonomy factions in Mindanao even after the signing of a peace agreement with the government, said the chairman of the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF.) Instead of unifying, MILF and its rival Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF) should move forward in parallel, Al Haj Murad Ebrahim, MILF chairman, told ucanews.com over the weekend. Murad appealed to all Moro factions in Mindanao to help implement the framework agreement signed by the MILF and the government on October 15. The agreement will facilitate the establishment of a new political entity in the region called Bangsamoro or Moro nation. Murad said a coordinating mechanism has already been set up to allow Moro rebel groups to discuss amongst themselves how to move forward. He said MILF has been holding dialogues with the different factions of the MNLF, but he added that unification is no longer practical because MILF has a "very stable and comprehensive structure in place." The MNLF signed its own peace agreement with the government in 1997, which has since been invalidated by the courts. MNLF leaders have warned that the new agreement is a violation of the 1997 agreement and may lead to unrest. Ekemelddin Ihsanoglu, secretary-general of the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation, earlier this year urged Moro rebel groups to work together. He told MILF leaders during a meeting last July that because the peace processes of the MILF and MNLF revolve around the same problem and the same territory, "the process of coordination between the two fronts has become of utmost necessity." Related reports Government and rebels ink landmark deal Peace deal opens doors for unrest, group warns
Related Reports
Church leaders decry drug trade in Indonesian jails
Anti-narcotics chief says half of country's illicit drug trade controlled by inmates
Nearly half a million Myanmar refugees, church voices concern
Myanmar ranks eight in the world's escalating refugee crisis with neighboring Bangladesh bearing the biggest burden
Controversy over India's presidential nominee
Christians are concerned over Hindu leader's hard-line ideology
Indonesian Catholics help poorest Muslims celebrate Eid
The Sant'Egidio community has welcomed hundreds of Muslims each year since its first breakfast event in 1996
Landslide survivors in Bangladesh yearn to start over
Those who have lost loved ones, homes are now looking to rebuild their lives


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Types of termites
Explore related topics
You can make homemade pet friendly termite killer by combining two parts of borax, two parts confectioner's sugar and one part cornmeal, mixing the three thoroughly. Sugar and cornmeal attract termite workers. Borax is a naturally powdery substance. When termites ingest it, it acts as stomach poison that prevents them from digesting other food and causing them to starve to death
Louisiana Termite Damage - This infographic shows the damage caused by Subterranean Formosan termites in Louisiana, the types of termites found in Louisiana and common sings you might have a termite infestation. For more info, visit http://www.fischerenv.com/free-infographic-termite-damage-in-louisiana
Different types of termites
Types Of Termites,Infographics,Knowledge,Fun Facts,Environment,Need To
Signs Of Termites: How To Tell If You Have Termites - Signs of termites can vary from location to location, and also depend on the type of termite infesting your living area. This is everything you will need to know in order to address your issue thoroughly.
What Type of Termites Are Flying Termites? | Terminix Blog
Most Destructive Types of Termites and Areas They are Found | Terminix Blog


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Stephen Holden on Love
This poster designed itself for me. I had already made the bamboo etchings and had set them aside, waiting for an opportunity to build a design with it.
Few movie reviewers are extraordinary. Most tell you what they liked or did not like about a movie. Stephen Holden is among the few critics who writes a compelling short story when he reviews movies. His take of "Brokeback Mountain" consoled me after seeing this tragic story of a doomed love. A line in the review reminded me of the strength of bamboo trees, which, ultimately, give way to the passage of time and the battering of nature but survive nonetheless for years to come.
Alice Walker
Madamas: Women, Madonnas and Mothers
For this exhibit, an evocative painting that was part of it made the most sense to feature on the poster.
"Meet the Madama, in her multiple manifestations. "Madamas: Women, Madonnas, and Mothers" looks at images of Black women in Caribbean art, as shown in paintings, batiks, dolls and photographs." Read more about this exhibit curated by Waleska Santiago at Repeating Islands magazine.
Sexual Assault on College Campuses
Project Safe Baby
Issue Accidental asphyxiation of babies generally occurs when they are placed in a crib with blankets and toys with which they can become entangles. The tragedy is especially high in the black and Latino communities.
Goal Raise awareness about how to care for babies when they sleep – Always face up, in a onesey pajama and without anything in the crib (no toys, no blankets.)
Result Verdant produced two short videos for Project Baby Springfield to share on its social media page. We also brought in the masterful graphic designer Lisa Carta to design two posters, with photographs taken by the great photographer Denise Stewart, in English and in Spanish, to be displayed on the outside and inside of PVTA buses in Springfield.


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I have been donating to this organization since 1994, ever since I personally visited their projects in East Africa. Owning a livestock animal in Africa immediately lifts an entire family out of poverty and into the middle class. I am impressed by how the projects are run, by local community members who determine their own criteria for chosing which family is most deserving of an animal first. That family then must give back to the project the first offspring of that animal, such that the project is self-sustaining and eventually benefits everyone in the community. Not only is there a rise in income (through selling milk, eggs, etc.), the family has improved nutrition, better access to primary education (which costs money), support and education about farm management from others in the project, and pride in having the resources to support themselves.
I have given to Heifer International for a couple of yrs. I would hope that most of my donation goes towards what the charity was intended for - livestock for families to make an income on and then pay forward with a contribution towards someone else in their village. I realize my expectations are high and they do have expenses. I will continue to contribute but would like their non-profit to work on lowering their expenses so that more families are affected by these donations. Please only send a small card and envelope 2x/yr for donations. The complaint of so much solicitation from Heifer International is well warranted and expensive - there goes my donation. If expenses do remain high, then perhaps a change of management is needed. Take a look at other charities that have low expenses - it can be done. Let's get back to the idea and passion of it's originators - thank you!
I thought that I had found a good way to donate. so the first year a bought a goat. Since then I have been inundated with solicitations even though I already am a member. Apparently they have a high paid CEO who thinks this a good way to run this charity. I started this year with a thought of donating a pig, but with each unnecessary solicitation, I am not down to perhaps a flock of chickens, or maybe nothing. Maybe they have too much money and don't care if they waste it. I was also annoyed that donations are switched by them to whatever they want.
I am both a technical professional as well a a farmer managing nearly 50 head of cattle. I have been a supporter of HI's initiatives for several years and fully support their "teach a man to fish" approach by helping to provide solutions to hunger as well as providing resources to help create sustainable agricultural opportunities that help lead to financial improvement. They are committed to providing agricultural resources that can create sustainable and long term solutions. Some may value a crop over an animal, which is fine, but I find the demonizing of leveraging animals for production (meat, wool, eggs, etc) short sighted and ill informed. HI's goal is admirable and is deserving of support.
Review from Guidestar
I don't have much more experience that some of the people with their negative comments on here. Perhaps they receive donations from companies for some of these ideas, like return address labels. But if they didn't send out their brochures, I imagine they would not last long. I know I wouldn't necessarily remember to donate. Furthermore, they aren't giving all these animals to people to eat. No, I'm not donating any rabbits, but I would imagine the goats are for milk and the bees are for many things. Noone's eating the bees. So if you don't want to contribute for these reasons, well, I'm sorry to hear that. I'm going to! People in these countries need a jump start and are willing to work to improve themselves. Sounds like a great mission to support.
I think their idea is great but it seems to me that all the donation money I have given has just been used for glossy mailers. Why send me a glossy, expensive mailer when I already am a contributor? If they would show more wisdom in how they manage their donations I would be much more ready to give in the future.
Review from Guidestar
I have a monthly donation to Heifer But with l the mailing I receive biweekly, I will not be renewing my donations. I believe they are spending far more money on mailing than on the purposes of the donations such as buying animals etc. a dissapointing venture on my part.
Review from Guidestar
I gave a general donation of about 50 dollars at the start of this year. I have since received disgusting amounts of mail from them. I know charities need to ask, but Heifer International brings it to a level that is beyond ridiculous. I receive something from them at least every two weeks, often once a week. It's not just a piece of paper with a return envelope, it's almost always some grandiose bells and whistles envelope with muti-textured cards and glossy fold outs of things like "FOR ONLY 30 DOLLARS YOU CAN GIVE THEM A HIVE OF BEES, FOR 50 DOLLARS YOU CAN GIVE THEM A GAGGLE OF GEESE". I half expect confetti and music on some of the larger envelopes that will appear on random days nowhere near holidays. I'm quite convinced that I'm right on track to making that 50 dollars back via mailed solicitations. I'm not exaggerating, if every envelope and "catalog" I've gotten cost .25 cents, I've been mailed at least 10 dollars. So I suppose my donation has served to solicit 4-5 people, myself included.
I thought the solicitation would die down in a month or two after I gave, it didn't. I even sought out how to remove myself from the actual mailing list, but couldn't find it on their site. So I tried to ignore it, figuring they would cut ties. They are a large charity, surly they have a system of removing non-giving ex-patrons after a few months. Nope, apparently not. The train never slows down and it ever stops. Their mailings kept coming with reckless abandon. I finally had enough and seriously looked into how to remove myself from their mailing. I had to get the information from a totally unrelated website dedicated to helping people get off mailing lists. I googled the email address for this, and it actually is on Heifer's website. It's under their "Privacy Policy" and under the obfuscate question of "How do you contact us regarding your information?" It's nestled in between how you can remain anonymous (which, if you are hell bent on donating to them I IMPLORE you to do, you'll thank me.) and reviewing "your personal information".
It's, by the way: firstname.lastname@example.com; send them your full name, address, phone number (if you gave it, might be a trick to get your number, who knows), and email address you used.
Good luck, because I sent the request a month ago. While it's slowed down, I've received two mails since (three really, but I requested and received the one of the three about two days later. Please also note that three mailings a month is something I consider "slowed down" from them). One was their extravagant multi-paged color glossy Holiday catalog with bees, geese, ewes, chicken, yak, and every other thing bursting at the seams. The other is something simple yet probably a bit more sinister. Every other envelope you can clearly tell is from heifer a mile off, this recent one-the one that got me on here to finally voice my problems with them- is subtle. Only my name and address on the front, with the nonprofit stamp (which tipped me off instantly). On the back, on the top flap is, "Pierre U. Ferrari" in big bold and in smaller normal writing the Heifer International address. Inside is a letter headed only "Pierre U. Ferrari" letter, a "Beat the Tax Deadline" letter, and the only paper to carry the previously omnipresent logo which is the actual contribution paper.
So not only have they seemingly ignored my request and kept sending me stuff, but instead of sending me the over the top overflowing envelopes they are now sending me (and somehow this is more insulting) stealthy, mostly incognito solicitations under the auspices of the CEO.
If you need to give to them (expect your donation to go DIRECTLY into marketing and solicitation), do it anonymously. If you love receiving mail or are very, very lonely (or have an enemy whose mailbox warrants ubiquitous bees, water buffalo, chickens, and water fowl) then giving to them will solve your problems.
Review from Guidestar
I have been donating to Heifer for several years now. I generally only donate to local charities, but when I first heard of Heifer, I researched them and found that I really agreed with their approach - help each community to become self-sufficient. It is a practical approach that I believe in.
My main complaints/concerns are similar to ones already mentioned. When I make a donation, don't acknowledge it with another appeal for money. Also, reduce the number of appeals. Thankfully, I have not been contacted by phone. That would be a huge issue for me.
I fully plan to continue my modest donations. They help out the poorest people live a better life.
I made a small donation to this organization at Christmastime. Since then, I have received emails, phone calls and heavy, glossy mailers sent first class postage asking for more, more, more. Now, it does not bother me that a charitable organization would be trying to solicit donations, but I feel at this point (only a month after making my donation) that my money has been swallowed up campaigning for me to give more, rather than going to the poor who I intended my donation to help. I will never donate to them again.
Review from Guidestar