judge mental
By ZTV25
A small clerk is sexually harassed by an Amazonian judge.


"Say hello to your graduating class," the presenter called proudly.

The crowd gathered at the Mt. Blass University auditorium applauded and
cheered as the men in women on stage stood and bowed. They were a diverse
assortment for such a small private law school. They were male, female, a good
mix of races and body sizes. One however stood out amongst all the others. His
name was Brett Amos. He tended to stand out no matter where he went. Being
only 4'6" tends to draw attention in this day and age.

If there was one thing Brett had wanted to be his whole life it was a lawyer.
In middle school he had picked up a copy of The Pelican Brief and that had
been that. Hours of studying and sacrifice, working two part times jobs to pay
his way through law school had all led to this.

"I'm so proud of you," his mother said hugging him tightly as they regrouped
out front.

"Mom, I need to breathe."

"Sorry," she said letting him go.

"So what are your plans now Mr. Lawyer?" his father asked.

"I've been giving it some thought and I think I'm going to try my hand at a
judicial clerkship."

A judicial clerk was basically an assistant to an appellate court judge. The
clerk helped the judge with their research and helped them to form their legal
opinion on any given case. Clerkships like this were offered only to the top
lawyers in their class. The good news was this was him.

The application process seemed simple enough. He made up a packet consisting
of his transcript, resume, a writing sample and letters of recommendation.
Never one for putting all his eggs in one basket he sent the application out
to every judge in the region. All he had to now was wait. So that's what he
did, he waited ... and waited ... and waited ... and waited. The clerkships
began to fill up one by one. Most of them went to graduates from the more
well-known schools. That was OK he'd still get one, he knew it.

"Brett Amos?"

"Yes?" Brett asked sleepily as he answered his cellphone early one morning.

"This is Judge Guerra at the Bittles County Courthouse."

"Yes ma'am," he said snapping awake and popping up in bed like the old game
Don't Wake Daddy.

"Are you still interested in a judicial clerkship?"

"Yes, yes I am."

"Good, can you come in for an interview tomorrow?"

"Of course."

"Good, be in my chambers at 3pm."

"Will do."

"Perfect, see you then."

"Guerra? Judge Maria Guerra?" his friend Isaac asked.

"Yeah, what about it?"

The two of them were grabbing a bite at the local greasy spoon.

"You know what they call her down at the courthouse don't you?"

"No, what?"

"They call her Judge Mental."

"Judge Mental?"

"Yeah she's one crazy bitch."

"You know she's a judge you have to go up in front of right?"

"Hey I'm just telling you what I've heard. She once chewed a lawyer out for a
full ten minutes because he showed up five minutes late. She once threw her
gavel across the courtroom she got so mad. She'll snap at anyone who crosses
her in her courtroom. Any infraction and you'll feel like you're back in the
principal's office. Then there's the sentences."

"What about them?"

He tried to sound nonchalant but internally he was freaking out.

"If you get convicted in her court you can bet you're gonna do the higher end
of that conviction. Say you get five to ten you'll do closer to ten than
five."

"You're right she's tough."

"No I said crazy."

"Yes you did."

Brett was there bright and early the next day. His suit was pressed and
spotless while his palms were slick with sweat.

"Judge Guerra will see you now."

"Thank you."

Taking a deep breath he walked back to the judge's chambers and knocked.

"Come in," the lovely feminine voice called from the other side.

Another deep breath and he pushed the door open. Behind the desk sat a lovely
Hispanic woman in her late thirties. She had wavy black hair that cascaded
down to her olive toned shoulders. Her deep green eyes struck him as cat like
but he couldn't really figure out why.

"Please have a seat," she told him.

Nervously he did just so.

"So tell me a little about yourself."

After several standard interview questions the meeting began to wrap up.

"Well I think that should about do it."

"Thank you for your time."

"You're very welcome, and Brett ... "

"Yes."

"I expect you here bright and early Monday morning."

"I got it?"

"You got it."

"Thank you," he said excitedly, jumping up for a handshake.

"You're very welcome," she said standing up as well.

It took every ounce of willpower Brett had to keep from gasping. He could not
tell it when she was sitting down but Judge Guerra was huge! Now to clarify
she wasn't fat she was just big. For one thing she was tall maybe six and a
half foot if he had to hazard a guess. She would have been taller than him
anyway but at his height she towered over him.

Then there was her body. This woman worked out! There was not a place on her
body that wasn't blessed with some sort of rippling muscle beneath. Her arms
were wide like fleshy logs that looked like they could rip through any
clothing she chose to wear if she flexed too hard. Her body was covered by her
professional dress but you could tell she was tight and fit, not hulking but
still clearly physically fit. Her breasts were huge and commanding. He was
instantly hard.

She gripped his hand tightly. God she was strong, it felt like it was in a
vise.

"I can't wait to spend many long nights with you."

"Wha?"

"Working the long hours judges have to keep."

"Right, right. Can I have my hand back now?"

"For now," she teased letting go.

That was ... strange.

Monday morning bright and early he arrived at the chambers of Judge Guerra
ready to work. Imagine his surprise when entering he found her in the corner
using a weight bench he hadn't noticed on his last visit.

"Right on time. I like that."

"Well I aim to please."

"I bet you do."

"OK," he said uncertainly.

"Grab my datebook from my desk and come over here."

He did as he was told joining her at the weight bench. As he got close he felt
his breath catch in his throat. The weights she were lifting were huge. Now he
was no expert in such things but he was sure this was the kind of weight a pro
bodybuilder would be using. She was lifting it like it was no problem at all.
As her arms went up and down they flexed with a muscular power he found
strangely intriguing.

"So what have we got on the docket today?"

Brett flipped to that day's page in the book.

"Let's see. It says here you have two evidentiary hearings today. People v.
McCoy and Smith v. Rubio."

"That's right."

She sat up.

"Guess my light morning workout's done."

Light?

"Let's get to it."

They spent the rest of the day going over the case in question getting Brett
up to speed. It might have been his imagination but the whole time whenever
she wanted to show him something she would take his hand and point to it,
holding on to it a little longer than was necessary.

Soon the prosecutors arrived along with the defendant and his lawyer. Judge
Guerra took her seat behind her desk as the lawyers took all the open chairs
in front of it. Brett stood awkwardly next to her chair as the hearing began.
It was a fairly ordinary hearing about whether or not if a certain Q-Tip found
at the scene of the crime should be allowed in as evidence for the
prosecution.

Brett tried to pay attention but found it difficult. About three minutes in
she gently grabbed his hand under her desk and held it the rest of the
meeting. By the time it was over she was gently rubbing her thumb over his
hand as she did so. The lawyers left but Judge Guerra continued stroking his
hand.

"You did very well," she told him.

"Thank you," he said blushing.

"Let's move onto the other case now, shall we?"

"Sure," he said glad she finally let go of his hand.

While he gathered the paperwork she went back to her weight bench.

"I'm going to finish my work out. While I do I need you to talk about the case
with me, get you up to speed."

"OK."

He walked up next to her head as she pressed weights.

"Rubio is saying the tree was on his side and has a land survey to support his
claim."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"This isn't going to work. I need to see you while we talk. Climb up here."

"What?"

"You heard me: climb up onto my chest."

"I don't think I should do that."

"Do you want to clerk for me?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"Then you're going to have to learn to do what I say no matter what. Now sit
on my chest or you're fired."

Gulping he climbed up onto her chest leaning forward to avoid her large boobs
right behind him.

"OK now you're too close to my face," she said, "I need you to lean back."

"But I'd be touching your breasts if I did that."

"And I'm going to enjoy every second of it."

Knowing he could stall no longer he scooted back pressing his back against the
exposed skin of her boobs. They were soft and firm at the same time. He was
instantly hard.

"Ooh, I see someone likes his new seat. Mama likes what she sees down there."

He blushed even harder.

Eventually the day came to a close and Brett began packing up his things to.

"See you tomorrow," he told her.

He was surprised when she bent down and gave him a big hug making sure to
press him against her boobs for a full five minutes.

"Tomorrow bring workout clothes. Short see through shorts are required."

She gave his ass a good firm pat.

"God I'm going to enjoy the hell out of you this year."

"Yeah, well ... buy."

More embarrassed than he'd even been in his life he scurried out of her
chambers. Dear lord, what had he gotten himself into?