SnapLines - ERATOMANIA v2.0 – William Blake

Your idea was marvelous. Thank heavens you suggested I throw off the mundane traditions of my profession.  It always required so much effort to incite my darlings that I rarely had the energy to engage in more than a few significant arrangements a day. Now I can break a full pack of wolf pups and still have time to indulge in a little action for my own entertainment.

No more am I being picketed by tedious politicos putting their peepers in like they were pastors’ wives. No more bemoaning those shamelessly softcore TV doms who expose all our lovely twisty-ties without so much as feeling a pinch. Of far more concern however were the dreadful designing drugs that make it tougher and tougher to rake the Bills to the desperate dissatisfactions that mean so much to them. To say nothing of the modern, liberated, hard-to-cower Coos.

Since Darling Barnsted’s brilliant suicide the standard forms have failed to procure significantly severe travails to break into the upper levels on the new pain gauges, scorch ratings, and range of dislocation charts. Today it is all about scientific proof so at Fanny’s Fitness I installed only these marvelous high end machines that not only torment clients but come fully wired out with dozens of calculating screens to advertise just how bad is getting worse. No way to cheat the monitors. It’s delicious! Last week we had two heart attacks! Two! In the old days I was lucky to produce more than one of those a year.  

And I’ve been able to refit several of the old staff into new positions here, Personal Trainers, Master Trainers, and a few have even qualified as Executive Insistants. Oh, I love precisely enunciating that.

We have all the basic  screws, wrenches, and free-weights but instead of those tedious whips and crimps we only have to yell, “Lift! Lift! Lift! Push into the edge! Feel the burn! No pain-no gain!”

If a pet is naughty we put them on a treadmill or one of the stair-step machines and then keep nudging the speed higher and higher. Without any real exertion on our part they’ve come and gone with a healthy sense of satisfaction. Though there are a few die-hards who still prefer to stay stiff for hours!

Our seriously naughty boys can do three smarting routines and get the same excruciating throb we previously could raise with no less than fifty welts. And all I am required to do is stand beside them and count very sternly in my latex running suit.

The system almost runs itself and so much lovely money. I’ve cleared enough to even fit out the dearest little private studio  with a full set of those multi-platform sliplashes  that I so adore for group events.

Perhaps the best change is that instead of hiding their little habits from their friends my precious miscreants now show off their results without embarrassment. And everyone knows just how they got so delightfully hot. I’m invited to all the best parties and openly recommended by society wives to their husbands. Lovely!

We’re expanding into the northern suburbs but the bank felt that our name Fanny’s Fitness was a little too reminiscent of the old place so we agreed to call the new chain High Tone! I’ve enclosed an advertisement for the Houdini classes we’ll soon be running for the most sophisticated of our friends like you and naturally any friend you personally accompany. We tie the doggies up and put them through a series of bridges and stretches scientifically engineered to eventually free them from the chains. One of our old clients hung gagged for four hours before he finally achieved release.  He was so excited he tipped me an extra C. 

Hope to see all of you very soon. Until then I remain your devoted but, of course, very bad, Queenie


“Visions of the Daughters of Albion” etched by William Blake in 1795
Tate Gallery, London, England