#Digital Measure Tape

[monolithiot]

MonolithIoT New ET030 Bluetooth Digital Measure Tape

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"She's the only one who'll hire me," Randall shrugged, almost defeatedly; having put up with Minnie and her haranguing for so long, he'd long since moved past being outraged by it and was more resigned to it than anything. "She may bite my head off at every opportunity, but she knows I won't complain because no one else will hire me. She's unpleasant, but at least she pays me."

Funnily enough (in a bittersweet sort of way), Minnie knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of an unwarranted chewing out; having worked her way up the proverbial ladder years prior, she too was often yelled at by her old boss, the previous owner of the haberdashery, a rude and dismissive man who seemed to hate everyone equally, if that was some consolation. After the old man had a heart attack, Minnie bought the place from his widow and took over it completely-honestly, Randall would've thought her experiences under such a harsh boss would soften her up once she made it to the top, but no; she was just as mean as he was.

"Well, at least I won't be working for her for too long," he continued, flashing an impish little smile to Emily, while Dorian was still eyeing the door, still trying to hold his tongue, as Randall continued, "I look forward to leaving her a nice, nasty little resignation letter before we go-I'll be sure to tell her she was a miserable boss, and I hope she has a miserable time finding someone to replace me!"

[bisonbody]

DIY Projects Made Easier with Digital Tape Measures

Embarking on DIY projects around the home can be both exciting and rewarding. Whether you’re redecorating a room, assembling new furniture, or tackling a renovation, having the right tools can make all the difference. Enter the digital tape measure—an advanced tool that transforms how you approach measuring tasks. Here’s how digital tape measures can make your DIY projects easier and more efficient.

Precision Made Simple

One of the standout features of digital tape measures is their precision. Unlike traditional tape measures that require manual reading and calculations, digital tape measures provide instant, accurate measurements with a simple digital readout. This precision is especially valuable when measuring spaces for new furniture or fitting custom shelving. You can confidently make cuts or adjustments, knowing that your measurements are spot-on.

Streamlined Home Decor

Redecorating a room involves a lot of measuring—whether it’s for new curtains, rugs, or wall art. Smart tape measure streamline this process by allowing you to quickly measure wall lengths, window heights, and even diagonal spaces. Some models come with memory functions to save multiple measurements, so you don’t have to constantly re-measure. This makes it easier to plan and position decor elements precisely.

Hassle-Free Furniture Assembly

Assembling flat-pack furniture often involves precise measurements to ensure everything fits together correctly. Digital tape measures can make this task much simpler. With features like automatic measurement calculation and easy-to-read displays, you can quickly determine the exact dimensions of your furniture parts and ensure they align perfectly. This can save you from making mistakes and having to redo your work.

Accurate DIY Renovations

For larger DIY renovation projects, such as installing new cabinets or building custom storage solutions, accuracy is crucial. Digital tape measures often come with additional features like built-in laser pointers and Bluetooth connectivity. The laser pointer helps you measure longer distances accurately, while Bluetooth connectivity allows you to sync measurements with an app for easy documentation and planning.

Enhanced Convenience

Digital tape measures are designed for ease of use. Many models come with backlit screens for clear visibility, even in low-light  conditions. Additionally, their compact size makes them easy to carry around and store. This convenience means you can have a reliable measuring tool at your fingertips, whether you’re working on a small project or a large renovation.

Conclusion

Incorporating a digital tape measure from BisonBody into your DIY toolkit can significantly enhance your project efficiency and accuracy. From simplifying home decor tasks to ensuring precise furniture assembly and renovation work, this advanced tool offers numerous benefits. By leveraging the power of digital measurement technology, you’ll find that your DIY projects become not only easier but also more enjoyable.

[meilleurchoix92]

M Cube Système de mesure intelligent tout en un

[toolssuppliersinuaedubaiuae]

Explore the advantages of PU-coated gloves in various industries, from improved grip and flexibility to cost-effectiveness and resistance to abrasion. Discover how these gloves provide a reliable solution for ensuring hand protection, hygiene, and efficiency in the workplace.

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[toolreview68]

A digital tape measure can prove to be invaluable in a variety of settings. Companies use it when they need to measure their products and their employees are walking around with paper tapes. To name a few uses of digital tape, like measuring the size of office furniture, checking the size of electronic equipment, measuring teacups, and so on.

[grizzcozine]

❗️ BUNDLE INFO

Check out everything currently available in the shop. See below for full details.

🐟Profreshional Handbook: Full Bundle

› 7" x 10" zine, gold foil › 4 sticker sheets › 3 stickers › 4 prints › 2 acrylic charms › 1 candy charm › 1 embroidery keychain › 1 memo pad › 1 washi tape › 1 lanyard › 1 badge holder 🌟Eligible for all stretch goals

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🐟Overachiever's Manual: Half Bundle

› 7" x 10" zine, gold foil › 4 sticker sheets › 3 stickers › 2 prints › 2 postcards › 2 acrylic charms 🌟Eligible for hardcover upgrade and collector's deck only.

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🐟 Go-Getter's Guide: Book Only

› 1 physical copy of the zine. Measures 7" x 10", 130+ pages, perfect bound, gold foil cover detailing. › Digital copy of the strategy guide. 🌟Eligible for hardcover upgrade only.

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🐟 Intern's Instructions: Digital Copy › 1 PDF copy of the zine, 130+ pages.

*Not eligible for stretch goals.

❗️ NOTE: Digital copies of the zine will be e-mailed at the same time as physical orders are fulfilled.

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🐟 Add-Ons

Check out the shop and add some collectibles to your order or purchase separately!

✨Eggstra Gear: Enamel pin set › Set of 4 hard enamel pins › Measures 1.25" with black nickel or gold plating.

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🐟 Stretch Goals

› 100 Orders: Acryic Pen Hollder added to full bundle orders › 200 Orders: Hardcover upgrade for all physical zine orders › 300 Orders: Card Collector's Deck added to full and half bundle orders › 400 Orders: Controller Grips added to full bundle orders

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Thank you for your interest in Get to Work zine! We hope you look forward to this collaborative art collection and game guide.

If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to reach out!

💬Send us a DM! ✉️E-mail: grizzcozine@gmail.com

Our site: https://salmonrunzine.carrd.co/

[wonders-of-the-cosmos]

Mariner program

The Mariner program was conducted by the American space agency NASA to explore other planets. Between 1962 and late 1973, NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL) designed and built 10 robotic interplanetary probes named Mariner to explore the inner Solar System - visiting the planets Venus, Mars and Mercury for the first time, and returning to Venus and Mars for additional close observations.

The program included a number of interplanetary firsts, including the first planetary flyby, the planetary orbiter, and the first gravity assist maneuver. Of the 10 vehicles in the Mariner series, seven were successful, forming the starting point for many subsequent NASA/JPL space probe programs. 

The name of the Mariner program was decided in "May 1960-at the suggestion of Edgar M. Cortright" to have the "planetary mission probes ... patterned after nautical terms, to convey 'the impression of travel to great distances and remote lands.'" That "decision was the basis for naming Mariner, Ranger, Surveyor, and Viking probes."

Each spacecraft was to carry solar panels that would be pointed toward the Sun and a dish antenna that would be pointed at Earth. Each would also carry a host of scientific instruments. Some of the instruments, such as cameras, would need to be pointed at the target body it was studying. Other instruments were non-directional and studied phenomena such as magnetic fields and charged particles. JPL engineers proposed to make the Mariners "three-axis-stabilized," meaning that unlike other space probes they would not spin.

Mariner 1 and Mariner 2

Mariner 1 and Mariner 2 were two deep-space probes making up NASA's Mariner-R project. The primary goal of the project was to develop and launch two spacecraft sequentially to the near vicinity of Venus, receive communications from the spacecraft and to perform radiometric temperature measurements of the planet. A secondary objective was to make interplanetary magnetic field and/or particle measurements on the way to, and in the vicinity of, Venus.

Animation of Mariner 2's trajectory from August 27, 1962, to December 31, 1962. Mariner 2 · Venus · Earth.

Mariners 3 and 4

Sisterships Mariner 3 and Mariner 4 were Mars flyby missions.

Mariner 3 was launched on November 5, 1964, but the shroud encasing the spacecraft atop its rocket failed to open properly and Mariner 3 did not get to Mars.

Mariner 4, launched on November 28, 1964, was the first successful flyby of the planet Mars and gave the first glimpse of Mars at close range

This archival image is an enhanced contrast version of the first Mars photograph released on July 15, 1965. This is man's first close-up photograph of another planet -- a photographic representation of digital data radioed from Mars by the Mariner 4 spacecraft. Data was either sent to Earth immediately for acquisition or stored on an onboard tape recorder for later transmission.

The pictures, played back from a small tape recorder over a long period, showed lunar-type impact craters (just beginning to be photographed at close range from the Moon), some of them touched with frost in the chill Martian evening. 

Mariner 5

The Mariner 5 spacecraft was launched to Venus on June 14, 1967, and arrived in the vicinity of the planet in October 1967. It carried a complement of experiments to probe Venus' atmosphere with radio waves, scan its brightness in ultraviolet light, and sample the solar particles and magnetic field fluctuations above the planet.

Mariners 6 and 7

Mariners 6 and 7 were identical teammates in a two-spacecraft mission to Mars. Mariner 6 was launched on February 24, 1969, followed by Mariner 7 on March 21, 1969. They flew over the equator and southern hemisphere of the planet Mars.

Mariners 8 and 9

Mariner 8 and Mariner 9 were identical sister craft designed to map the Martian surface simultaneously, but Mariner 8 was lost in a launch vehicle failure. Mariner 9 was launched in May 1971 and became the first artificial satellite of Mars. 

Mariner 10

The Mariner 10 spacecraft launched on November 3, 1973, and was the first to use a gravity assist trajectory, accelerating as it entered the gravitational influence of Venus, then being flung by the planet's gravity onto a slightly different course to reach Mercury. It was also the first spacecraft to encounter two planets at close range, and for 33 years the only spacecraft to photograph Mercury in closeup.

Venus in real colors, processed from clear and blue filtered Mariner 10 images

Mariner 10's photograph of Venus in ultraviolet light (photo color-enhanced to simulate Venus's natural color as the human eye would see it)

This mosaic shows the planet Mercury as seen by Mariner 10 as it sped away from the planet on March 29, 1974.

source x, x | images x

[shroompunk]

an overdue trip to the tailor

ID: Digital illustration of an anthro bearded vulture man visiting a tailor who is a stellar's jay man. The vulture man is standing upright and smoking, leaned a little against a nearby cabinet for stability while the jay measures around the widest part of his belly with a measuring tape. The room is a bit of a cluttered mess but the jay is dressed far fancier than his customer, wearing a corset and button-up shirt while the vulture is dressed in a tattered tanktop and patched pants, clearly ready for a new outfit.

[lesbianslvt666]

My angel wanted it so here it is :))

@machetegirl109

Couture!Lingerie!Designer!Ellie x Rich!spoiled!Reader

(Also idk why but i picture Ellie fully tatted on this one like Julien Baker tatted iykwim)

The night was setting fast, cold breeze entertaining through the front door as it opened, big man dressed in a black tuxedo entered the store and a bright voice chime in behind him.

“We are closed now!” Ellie was tired, her assistant had gone sick so she had been working by herself for a week.

“Miss Williams, good evening… we have an appointment settle for today” Ellies slumped form approached the talking man.

He gave Ellie your last name, her confused face looked around the store, she was sure she heard another voice but she couldn’t see you.

Her face went down to the desk in front of her, big notebook where they annotate all the appointments, her assistant had suggested going digital, she even proposed uploading everything from the notebook to the computer, but Ellie was a simple woman and she loved physical stuff.

Her hand wondered to the date of today, looking for time frames and your last name. Bingo…

“Why is it taking so long!” Your voice revealed from behind the broad man, pretty legs adorned with the tiniest of skirts, brown colored with a pretty white button up.

Your hurried steps came closer to her, pretty stilettos clacking with every step.

Bending over the desk you came closer to her notebook, long manicured fingers pointing to your name on the page.

“Here i am, now can you look at my tits? I have a special request…” your voice came lower than expected, Ellie was prettier in person.

“Um… yeah, uhh… over here” her hand pointing towards the dresser room

Your guard went outside the store, giving extra privacy for he knew your plan.

A week ago you were scrolling down tiktok, finding on your fyp an add for Ellies store, and as soon as you saw her you needed her…

“Look Roger, this is the plan” you told him, sitting him down on the couch, you took the remote and pointed to your big screen. “Do you see this girl?” The image of a short haired, green eyed woman appeared on the screen, Roger moved his head up and down as to say yes. “Good, i want her, so…” you gave Roger your unlocked phone, already with the number ready to dial. “Call to her store and make an appointment for the weekend, we are going to New York, so get your things ready” your bright smile and tiny jumps made Roger giggle with you.

Walking in the dressing room Ellie tried not to look much at you, your pretty face was already printed in her mind and your scent clouded the entire room.

“So, here is how this works...” she grabbed a measuring tape and put it around her neck, a small note pad on her hand and a gel ink pen hanging on her working apron.

It was no secret that Ellie liked girls, however, her work ethic was stronger than any desires… until now.

For when she looked back at you there was no clothes but your pretty skirt and those sexy stilettos.

She gulped.

“Um… as i was saying… i am gonna take your measurements and then we can um… we can talk about… uhh… the rest?” Her mind was wondering, your breast on full display for her and she was already melting…

She was trying hard to pay attention to her words, this should be normal to her i mean, she’s been doing this for years now is not something she hadn’t seen before… right?

“Measure me then!” You were so overly excited, thinking of her touching you pooling in a creamy spot on your undies.

She came closer to you, reason and lust fighting inside if her.

Her hand reached for the tip of her measuring tape, pulling it down her neck, long slender fingers stretching the tape, pressing them across your back, measuring your shoulder blades, a gasp left your plump lips when her tatted fingers caressed over your pretty skin.

She was trying hard not to touch as much as she wanted, but the little whimpers you gave with each burning contact her veiny hand gave you got you delirious.

You turned around facing her now.

Her pussy was pulsating and so was yours.

Rapidly beating hearts mirroring each other with fervor.

You took her hands on yours, measuring tape between her fingers and you placed it on top of your tits, the tape vaguely covering your nipples.

Ellie was fighting creamy cunt versus screaming mind.

The ache between her legs was louder than her reason.

Her eyes went from your eyes to your nose, lips and neck, traveling all the way down to your breasts.

One of your hands traveled to her hair, placing a strand behind her ear.

She glassed a finger over your nipple, lips parting open when she felt your pretty pink glittery nails scratching her scalp when you grabbed a handful of her auburn hair.

Her green eyes darkened, blown pupil and flush skin.

The warn light of the room imitating the feeling on your cheeks.

You were indecisive, crashing her lips with yours first or give her the satisfaction of tasting your pretty tits on her mouth?

Her eyes trained to them, almost begging you, her hands now traveling down your torso, open palms touching every part of your skin, cold silver rings chilling the fire trail she was leaving behind.

When her hands reached your hips your mind went dark, thoughts of all the thing you could do with, for and to her clouded your vision.

Your hand on her head pushed her face forward, as soon as her hot mouth latched on your tit her hands squeeze your hips with need.

Licking both your boobs and sucking on them like a desperate, hopeless slut.

“You little cunt like that?” Your whinny voice penetrated her ears and her eyes rolled back.

One of her hands grabbing yours, guiding you to her aching cunt, a wet patch on her trousers and you had to close your thighs together.

Your hand went up to the collar of her blouse, cleaning her juices on your tongue first and then going back to the collar, pretty finger curling on it and taking her with you, guiding her like a lost puppy to the couch.

You sat her down straddling her, her hips buckled up as soon as you let your weight down on her and it made you moan.

Her hands traveled to you ass squeezing, her lips parted in satisfaction as soon as you squirmed from the contact. You took your opportunity, lowering yourself to kiss her, her lips crashing with you.

Fierce kiss heating both your cores, sloppy tongues and wet saliva falling from each corner of your mouths.

Both bodies trying too hard to be at contact with one another and Ellie almost went crazy, she latched on your collarbone, butterfly kisses flying around your neck, your hands rushing to the buttons of her shirt, trying to take it off.

Your desperate attempt made her chuckle on your neck, your hips bucking at her reaction.

Detaching from your skin was hard, but she had to give you all you wanted, so she took off her shirt, sports bra falling with the blouse to the ground.

Your pretty nails came in contact with her nipples, teasing and tickling her which made her squirm, her cunt was soaking for you, pulsating with the thought of having you screaming her name while you scratched her skin with your glittery nails…

Fuck writers block, i always hit as soon as the smut starts lmao 😭😭 sorry yall :((

[aaknopf]

Martyr!, the poet Kaveh Akbar’s propulsive debut novel, tells the tale of Cyrus Shams, the son of a lost mother (victim of a 1988 U. S. Naval snafu in the Persian Gulf that killed 290 people on a commercial airliner) and the long-suffering father who emigrated to Fort Wayne, IN with his baby boy. We meet Cyrus as a student of poetry at Keady University and a reformed addict. In this excerpt, he’s at the local open mic with his friends; we also share one of the poems from Cyrus’s bookofmartyrs.docx, helpfully supplied by Akbar, the poet behind the fictional poet.

. .

The Naples Tuesday night open mic had become a mainstay of Cyrus and Zee’s friendship. It was a small affair, not much to distinguish it from the myriad other open mics happening elsewhere in the country—except this was their open mic, their organic community of beautiful weirdos—old hippies singing Pete Seeger, trans kids rapping about liberation, passionate spoken-word performances by nurses and teenagers and teachers and cooks. As with any campus open mic, there was the occasional frat dude coming to play sets of smirky acoustic rap covers and overearnest breakup narratives. But even they were welcome, and mostly it felt like a safe little oasis of amongness in the relative desert of their Indiana college town, a healthy way to spend the time they were no longer using to get drunk or high.   Naturally, Naples didn’t have its own sound equipment, so Zee would usually show up fifteen minutes early with his beat-up Yamaha PA to set up for Sad James, who hosted every week. Sad James was called this to distinguish him from DJ James, a guy who cycled nightly through the campus bars. DJ James was not a particularly interesting artist, but he was well-known enough in the campus community to warrant Sad James’s nominative prefix, which began as a joke but somehow stuck, and to which Sad James had grown accustomed with good humor, even occasionally doing small shows under the name. Sad James was a quiet white guy, long blond hair framing his lightly stubbled face, who played intensely solemn electronic songs, punctuated by sparse circuit-bent blips and bloops, and over time at Keady, he had become one of Zee and Cyrus’s most resilient and trusted friends.   On this night, Cyrus had read a poem early, an older experimental piece from a series where he’d been assigning words to each digit 0–9, then using an Excel document to generate a lyric out of those words as the digits appeared in the Fibonacci sequence: “lips sweat teeth lips spread teeth lips drip deep deep sweat skin,” etc. It was bad, but he loved reading them out loud, the rhythms and repeti­tions and weird little riffs that emerged. Sad James did an older piece where the lyrics “burning with the human stain / she dries up, dust in the rain” were repeated and modulated over molten beeps from an old circuit-bent Game Boy. Zee—a drummer in his free time who idolized J Dilla and John Bonham and Max Roach and Zach Hill in equal measure—hadn’t brought anything of his own to perform that evening, but did have a little bongo to help accompany any acoustic acts who wanted it.   On the patio listening to Cyrus talk about his new project, Zee said, “I could see it being a bunch of different poems in the voices of all your different historical martyr obsessions?” Then to Sad James, Zee added, “Cyrus has been plastering our apartment with these big black-and-white printouts of all their terrifying faces. Bobby Sands in our kitchen, Joan of Arc in our hallway.”   Sad James made his eyes get big.   “I just like having them present,” Cyrus said, slumping into his chair. He didn’t add that he’d been reading about them in the library, his mystic martyrs, that he’d taped a great grid of their grayscale printed faces above his bed, half believing it would work like those tapes that promised to teach you Spanish while you slept, that some­how their lived wisdoms would pass into him as he dreamt. Among the Tank Man, Bobby Sands, Falconetti as Joan of Arc, Cyrus had a picture of his parents’ wedding day. His mother, seated in a sleeved white dress, smiling tightly at the camera while his father, in a tacky gray tux, sat grinning next to her holding her hand. Above their heads, a group of attendees held an ornate white sheet. It was the only picture of his mother he had. Next to his mother, his father beamed, bright in a way that made it seem he was radiating the light himself.   Zee went on: “So you could write a poem where Joan of Arc is like, ‘Wow, this fire is so hot’ or whatever. And then a poem where Hussain is like, ‘Wow, sucks that I wouldn’t kneel.’ You know what I mean?”   Cyrus laughed.   “I tried some of that! But see, that’s where it gets corny. What could I possibly say about the martyrdom of Hussain or Joan of Arc or whoever that hasn’t already been said? Or that’s worth saying?”   Sad James asked who Hussain was and Zee quickly explained the trial in the desert, Hussain’s refusing to kneel and being killed for it.   “You know, Hussain’s head is supposedly still buried in Cairo?” Zee said, smiling. “Cairo, which is in which country again?”   Cyrus rolled his eyes at his friend, who was, as Cyrus liked to remind him when he got too greatest-ancient-civilization-on-earth about things, only half Egyptian.   “Damn,” Sad James said. “I would’ve just kneeled and crossed my fingers behind my back. Who am I trying to impress? Later I could call take-backsies. I’d just say I tripped and landed on my knees or something.”   The three friends laughed. Justine, an open mic regular whose Blonde on Blonde–era pea-coat-and-harmonica-rack Bob Dylan act was a mainstay of the open mic, came outside to ask Zee for a cigarette. He obliged her with an American Spirit Yellow, which she lit around the corner as she began speaking into her cell phone.   In moments like these Cyrus still sometimes felt like asking to bum one too—he’d been a pack-and-a-half-a-day smoker before he got sober, and continued his habit even after he’d kicked everything else. “Quit things in the order they’re killing you,” his sponsor, Gabe, told him once. After a year clean he turned his attention to cigarettes, which he finally managed to kick completely by tapering: from one and a half packs a day to a pack to half a pack to five cigarettes and so on until he was just smoking a single cigarette every few days and then, none at all. He could probably get away with bumming the occasional cigarette now and again, but in his mind he was saving that for something momentous: his final moments lying in the grass dying from a gunshot wound, or walking in slow motion away from a burning building.   “So what are you thinking then? A novel? Or like . . . a poetic mar­tyr field guide?” asked Zee.   “I’m really not sure yet. But my whole life I’ve thought about my mom on that flight, how meaningless her death was. Truly literally like, meaningless. Without meaning. The difference between 290 dead and 289. It’s actuarial. Not even tragic, you know? So was she a martyr? There has to be a definition of the word that can accom­modate her. That’s what I’m after.”

More on this book and author:

Learn more about Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar.

Browse Kaveh Akbar's poetry collections and follow Kaveh on Instagram @kavehakbar.kavehakbar.

Visit our Tumblr to peruse poems, audio recordings, and broadsides in the Knopf poem-a-day series.

To share the poem-a-day experience with friends, pass along this link.

[monolithiot]

MonolithIoT 2022 New ET030 Bluetooth Digital Tape Measure

[sunstone-smiles]

Measuring Mishap

(I’m sorry that the picture is so blurry-)

Author’s note: Another fic with Miguel after I said I would only make one? I couldn’t help myself. Can you blame me? Lol! I hope you enjoy!

Series: Across the Spider-Verse

Characters: Miguel O’Hara and Lyla

Word count: 2,242

Summary: Lyla is assisting Miguel by measuring him for a new spider suit, but a small mishap occurs in the process that leads the AI to instead discover a playful piece of information about him that can make him laugh.

—

It’s hard enough tearing Miguel away from his work, let alone asking the man to stand still. He always has to be active with something, whether it’s skimming through files, capturing anomalies, or making sure that everything in the Spider-Society is in working order, so taking a break is not one of his strong points.

Miguel huffs as he stands in his spider suit on a short, cylindrical platform, his arms crossed. Above him, two robotic limbs hang from a steel frame like the strings of a marionette. A yellow strip of measuring tape is held in the metal fingers of the robotic hands as the contraption measures Miguel from shoulder to shoulder.

Miguel taps his foot on the ground and exhales an impatient sigh. “Lyla, how much longer is this going to take?” he turns to the AI in question, who’s floating beside his head.

“Just a few more measurements and you’ll be good to go,” Lyla taps away on a digital screen in front of her. Matching her own hand movements in sync, a robotic hand taps at the air alongside her while Lyla makes her note. “What’s the rush anyway? You don’t have any meetings scheduled for later.”

“I just want to get back to business, that’s all.”

“Business?” Lyla hovers backwards, almost offended. “I’m measuring you for a new suit to enhance your abilities so you can catch anomalies with more ease,” she demonstrates by controlling the robotic limbs to take Miguel’s arm away from its crossed state, then measuring it from shoulder to wrist, “It doesn’t get more business-y than that.”

“You know what I mean, Lyla,” Miguel shakes his head. “Work, reports, surveillance, making sure the anomalies are properly contained—instead of standing still like this. That kind of business.”

Lyla pulls the measuring tape and the mechanical arms away to type another note. “Yeah, I get it. But doesn’t it feel nice to take a break every once and a while? It definitely gets you away from those screens you always slouch over.” She throws a teasing grin at him and tries to straighten out his back with the robotic hands, like she’s posing an action figure. “I mean, just look at what it’s doing to your posture!”

“My posture is fine,” Miguel grumbles. He shifts his shoulders. “I only feel like every single second that I’m away from my hands-on work, another multiverse is potentially being swallowed whole.”

“Ugg, you’re being dramatic again. And also mathematically incorrect. On average we have three anomalies each day, meaning that every twenty-eight thousand eight hundred seconds another multiverse is in danger, not every single second.” She smirks down at him, pleased with her correction.

Miguel rolls his eyes. “Can we just get back to the task at hand, please?” He starts to fidget in his spot, like stretching out his arms to keep himself occupied, yet he’s moving around too much for Lyla to continue measuring him. The AI temporarily hangs the strip of measuring tape on the metal frame above them.

“I’m just saying that you can benefit from loosening up for a bit,” Lyla’s ramblings begin to wander as she tries to position Miguel with the mechanical arms to stand still on the platform, but she’s not paying complete attention to where the robot hands are drifting, “You know, like taking a moment to de-stress. It wouldn’t hurt to try—”

Lyla is suddenly cut off by an uncharacteristic yelp emanating from Miguel. Miguel snatches the robotic wrists away from his sides and fires a glare at Lyla, “Watch where you’re putting these things!” 

Processing the aftermath of the yelp, the AI quickly deduces that while she wasn’t paying attention, she must have accidentally squeezed his sides. 

“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” Lyla regains control of the robotic limbs. She properly guides them back towards his torso, but Miguel flinches away, as if on reflex. Lyla tilts her head in curiosity. She shrugs it off and maneuvers the arms close to his sides to hold him straight, but again, Miguel jumps away without her touching him, as if he was suddenly anxious of the mechanical hands.

She tries once more, but every time the robotic hands get close, he recoils and restarts her progress. Lyla narrows her eyes at him and pouts. “Miguel, hold still,” she tries to catch him without him flinching away, almost like corralling a startled horse into a stable. She attempts to grab at his arm, “I can’t get accurate measurements if you keep—”

“Hey!” Miguel tenses up with a squeak when she mistakenly pinches at his ribs. 

Lyla pulls the robot hands away, smiling with intrigue at the sound Miguel just made. “What was that?” she giggles.

Miguel tightens his arms closer to his chest, almost like he wanted to sink into himself. Miguel clears his throat. He adverts his eyes from Lyla's gaze. “It was—”

“Nothing?” she cuts him off with a sly smile, “I thought you would say that. Analyzing what just occurred now.”

“Lyla wait, don’t-

The pixels of Lyla’s heart-shaped glasses flash twice. “Analyzing complete. I detected a hint of laughter in your voice. And came to the conclusion that…” Lyla pauses as her data is pieced together. “No…” her mouth widens along with her eyes. “No way!”  her voice heightens with excitement. “You’re—!”

Miguel barks, “Don’t say it!”

“You’re ticklish!”

Miguel face palms with a growling sigh, flinching just hearing that word. “You said it…”

Lyla giggles excitedly, almost squealing like a fangirl. “How am I just learning about this now?! I need to know all the juicy details! Like, where are you the most ticklish?” She teasingly moves the robot arm with wiggling fingers towards his stomach. Miguel quickly grabs the wrist of the contraption before it can make contact.

“L-Lyla! This is not the time for these unnecessary activities!” he shoves the metal limb away from him.

“Nah, I think this is a perfect time! What you need is a good laugh!” She commands a robot limb to grab Miguel’s left wrist above his head, like she was innocently going to measure his arm for his new suit. “So, are you ticklish here?” Lyla quickly says and flutters her fingers to control the robot’s fingers to do the same into his underarm. Miguel sucks in a gasp and swiftly yanks his arm down, bringing it close to his body and clinging tightly to his own wrist.

“Hey!” Miguel snarls towards the AI, but Lyla had already zoomed behind him and switched to his other shoulder.

“Or here?” Lyla wiggles the chilled robotic fingers into the side of his neck. Miguel instantly scrunches up his shoulders and growls to hold back any further reaction to the tingly scratches. Trying to fight back, he attempts to nab the robot hand out of the air, but Lyla promptly dodges herself and the hands out of the way and behind him.

“Or how about here!” Lyla slips both robot hands into Miguel’s underarms from behind, striking like a snake. Miguel yelps and arches his back from the surprise, immediately clamping both of his arms to his sides and snarling to cover up any giggles that need to be stifled. 

“L-Lyla!” Miguel barely chokes back an audible giggle from slipping through while trying to squirm from her grasp. His mouth twitches on and off with a smile that shows off his fangs and his frame begins to lurch forward, like he wants to curl up into a ball, the longer he holds his laughter. 

“Come on!” Lyla exclaims from behind, “Stop hiding your laughter! Let me hear it!”

Miguel has to hold strong. Who knows what data-collecting Lyla can do with one of his giggly reactions if she gets her hands on it. She of course wouldn’t do anything that could hurt him, but the flustering earful of teases that he’ll hear afterwards is enough to keep himself from giving in to the easy route. Miguel faces this like a challenge.

He growls through his fangs like a big cat fending off a stronger force. “Absolutely n-not! Aye!” he squeaks when Lyla moves the mechanical hands down to both of his sides, clawing into the vulnerable area. Miguel throws his arms around himself in defense, his smile turning more wobbly by the second as he tries to hold back the giddy bouncing of giggles jumping on pogo sticks in his belly.

“Ah ha! Getting closer! I just have to get past your stubbornness!” Lyla smiles and moves one of the robot hands towards his ribs, teasingly scratching at a spot between the curved bones through the material of his suit. Miguel jolts and snickers start to spill out through hisses bypassing his fangs. He squeezes one arm to his side while the other tries to pry the robotic wrist away from wiggling into his ribs. She’s getting closer to breaking through the dam of his laughter and she knows it.

“Knock it ohohoff!” a giggle slips through Miguel’s defenses. He’s doomed. Lyla grins. Now is the moment she’s been waiting for.

Lyla’s glasses flash when she sees the opening she was planning in her sight. The other robotic hand by Miguel’s side whirs with Lyla’s control, then strikes directly at his tummy, swiping its clawed fingers back and forth like a sponge. “Gotcha now, Miguel!”

“GAH! Lylahahahaha!” Miguel finally bursts into robust laughter. He stumbles backwards, nearly falling, but Lyla places the palm of the second robot hand on the center of his back to stabilize him. However, although he’s still standing, his wriggling torso is caught in between the clawed hand vibrating at his tummy and the one stabilizing him. He throws his giggling head forward with a huge, fanged smile on his face, then grabs at the robotic wrist in an attempt to tug away the mischievous machine hand at his stomach. “Dahahamn it!” Miguel shouts through his laughter, knowing that Lyla has come out victorious. One of the strongest spider-men has been defeated by his own AI with a little bit of tickling.

“There’s that laugh I was looking for!” Lyla smiles along with Miguel. “Why did you have to go and hide it? Now I have to make up for all the laughter I missed!” Seeing another advantage to tease him, Lyla scoops up both of Miguel’s wrists in one robotic hand and pulls his arms out in front of him. 

“I’ll take those, thank you,” she beams above him. She then uses the unoccupied robotic hand to reach the ticklish places she tried before, now that the gates that were holding back his laughter have erupted.

Miguel squeals and jolts with laughter as the free mechanical hand scritches and scribbles at the rest of his torso. Lyla swiftly switches from spot to spot, like a scratch to his ribs, a squeeze to his sides, a scribble or two to his belly and underarms. She pokes around his whole torso, sending Miguel into a squirming, giggling frenzy. 

“Lylahahahaha!!! Quihihihit it!” Miguel attempts to tug back his arms as his joyful laughter fills the room. He releases a snort, then buries his face in his shoulder, trying to hold on to any dignity he has left. 

“No wonder you couldn’t hold still! You’re just that ticklish!” Lyla giggles at Miguel’s reaction. “Ironically though, I’m still able to get some measurements from you. Of where you’re the most ticklish, that is, which I determine to be your belly! Your laughter is zero point five decibels higher in that spot than the rest of your tickle spots! Watch!” Lyla then takes the opportunity to return to scribbling at his stomach, causing Miguel to squeak and increase the volume of his laughter, just as expected.

“LYLA!” Miguel calls out her name again in an attempt to scold her, even though his voice is currently laced with silly sounding laughter, “Thahahahat’s enohohohough!!!”

“Aww, so soon? But alright, I gotcha,” Lyla smiles and releases his wrists. Miguel instantly wraps his arms around himself, panting as he catches his breath from the tickle attack.

Lyla floats over to his shoulder. “See? Now wasn’t that fun?”

Miguel huffs out a growl. He glares at Lyla out of the corner of his eye. “That was NOT fun!”

“Say what you want Miguel,” Lyla shrugs with a lingering, all-knowing smile on her face, “but I can read that your body language is much more relaxed than it was before.”

Miguel opens his mouth to counter her, but he stops himself. He looks away from her with a defeated scowl. A small blush heats in his cheeks. He, unfortunately, can’t argue with her data about him feeling more relaxed.

Lyla hovers back to his other side to grab the measuring tape that she had previously hung on the contraption's metal frame. “Now, let’s get back to business. I still need to finish measuring you for real.”

Miguel flinches away from her, reflexively bringing his arms close to his body for split second defense. “There’s more?!” he frantically questions.

The AI chuckles at his flustered reaction. “Hehe, relax Miguel. I promise I won't tickle you on purpose,” she holds out a reassuring, open palm. “But you better hold still this time,” she ends her sentence with a lighthearted smirk. 

Needless to say, Miguel fully understands that he should listen to her advice, but at least the short break in the middle of their work wasn’t a total waste of time.

[bisonbody]

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[paddedlittleparadise]

Checking Up and Checking Out (Ream Teaser)

Nothing like a tasty bit of medfet and femdom goodness, right?

–––

"Well aren't you just the prettiest young thing. Does your mommy know you're here, sweetie?"

The sultry voice was oddly out of place, here under the fluorescent, sterile gleam of examination-room lights. At the sound, Judy – the willowy blonde nurse to whom those words were addressed – flushed. Her fingers tightened imperceptibly on the clipboard as she drew herself up to the full, impressive height of her five whole feet. And as she turned her grey eyes over to the buxom, orange-jumpsuited woman who had addressed her, a note of hesitation entered her voice.

"I- You… You shouldn't talk to me like that." The pen in Judy's hand trembled… wavered… trembled again. "I'm just- just here to give you your annual physical. That's it, Miss… um, Miss…"

"Aww, does this cute little nurse not even know how to read?" A glint of amusement sparkled in the prisoner's eyes. She lifted her manacled wrists to gesture at the name stitched onto the straining fabric around her bosom – and as she did so, a wry chuckle escaped her lips. "It's Farnham, by the way. Gloria Farnham. But you don't really care about that, do you?"

Nurse Judy opened her mouth to protest, but her seated patient smoothly spoke her into silence. "Of course not. You're just here to do your job, of course. Do what they tell you. Try your very, very hardest not to mess up. Because that's the only way an adorable little nurse who's just getting started will ever get ahead, isn't it? Isn't it, sweetie?"

The blush was glowing now in Judy's cheeks – crimson against the white of her uniform. "Ah, well- I mean- yes? Procedure- it- it's very important I do everything just right-" "And I'm sure you are doing it all – so adorably well," murmured her patient, whose gleaming eyes were following every tic of emotion on the nurse's face. Farnham may have been the inmate, but there was nothing remotely submissive about her. Her entire aura reeked of power, of confidence, of… control. And against that, poor insecure Judy was quickly finding it a very tough time indeed.

Maybe the comforting solidity of routine could help. "I'll, um- I'll need… your height? I- you should- um, stand, please…"

But it was as if the patient could read her very thoughts. Farnham had already risen and was standing, with an unperturbed smile, against the measuring tape. "Oh-! You- you already did–" Judy faltered out meekly. "Oh, never mind-"

Down went that figure, recorded by Judy's shaky digits. She took a hasty breath while her patient slid smoothly back down onto the examination table. Then, her fingers discarded the clipboard, reaching as if for reassurance for her stethoscope. "I- um, I'm going to need to check your, um… breathing? You- you know- tuberculosis is a real, erm, problem-"

"Oh, check out my chest all you like, nurse," purred her patient, thrusting out her womanly bosom in evident amusement. "Go on, sweetie! You can't be more than what… twenty-one? Twenty-two? And I bet you've never even touched a woman like this." She bit back a smile as the nurse's gloved hands approached, trembling with sudden violence. "You know you want to, sweetie. Go on… touch them…"

"Ah- no- no that's not-" But Judy's fingers were already pressing deep into that jumpsuit, driven home not of her own volition but by the patient's own manacled – and surprisingly strong – hands. "See? It's okay, baby," soothed Farnham, as softly as to a restive child. Her wrists tensed, forcing Judy's hand even deeper into her formidable cleavage. "All okay. Go on… listen to my breathing, sweetie. Mmm… so soft and warm and steady…"

–––

If only poor Judy knew what lies in store for her! If you want to check out the rest of this steamy two-part tale, check out my Ream. We've got it plus lots of other yummy AB/DL fiction just waiting for you!

[toolssuppliersinuaedubaiuae]

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