The following is a work of fiction for adult entertainment. The characters here in are used with kind permission as per the usage agreement stipulated on Mr. X’s wonderful website. And thanks again to Mr. X for supplying so many great treats for us this Halloween!

UDDER BUTTER

Myra Kron, better known throughout Delta City as the shrinking super heroine Micro Maiden, stepped carefully outside of the still smoking housing of the electro-magnetic bomb and tapped the radio receiver snug in her right ear. “It’s finished Ms. Americana. That should be the last one and defused just in time. I’m going to revert back to normal size now.”

In a shimmering blur the five foot double DD cup teen appeared straddling the long oblong cylinder of the still smoldering blinking bomb which suddenly began to vibrate and buck like an irate brahma bull. “Oh my?!” the newest member of Delta Cities always shifting roster of super heroines intoned as she found her materialization from a few millimeters in size back to her regular size left her now seated upon the defused harmless but confusingly warm and vibrating bomb casing as her legs dangled on either side of it.

“Good work, Micro Maiden!” Ms. Americana’s authoritarian voice firmly filled the young waif’s ear even as the vibrating cocoon sandwiched between her splayed legs filled her body with waves of tingling unexpected pleasure.

“Positronic!” The brainy busty lab assistant sighed before using her oft tested willpower to catch hold of her thrumming body and force herself to dismount the now cooling down and thankfully increasingly inert bomb.

“Are you okay Micro Maiden? Is everything alright?” Ms. Americana’s voice rang once again in the young girl’s ear.

“Everything’s great! Just need to work on my materialization radar projection circuit. That last size reversion was a little too much on the money.” The young girl cleared her throat, “anyway Micro Maiden over and out!” The slim super heroine clicked off her radio transmitter and surveyed her work on the now motionless smokeless bomb. “Not bad for a brainy busty lab assistant.” She giggled as she pulled her damp camel toing leotard out of her still tingling crotch. “Yep, put a busty hottie in a lab and poof! Instant super heroine every time.” She laughed out loud.

Ten blocks away Ms. Americana looked down at the defused bomb lying between her and Flag Girl and frowned. “What is it Ms. A?” The blonde pony tailed super heroine frowned back at her mentor and stuck a finger in her open wet mouth.

“These recent rash of criminal activities have me puzzled Flag Girl. Though they appear almost random and chaotic I am certain they are the work of a singular sinister mind. And yet… I can discern no overall pattern or motive. The crimes are always revealed in advance and easily thwarted and yet no amount of booty has been lost or objects vandalized. It is as if the culprit wants us to stop the crimes! But why?”

*************************************************************************************

“Let me come to the point professor. When you came to us and told us you had the means to destroy Ms. Americana and these other nuances to our daily lives, well of course we thought you were nuts. But you have helped us several times in the past and always seemed reliable, so naturally we were interested as well. But that was over one hundred and  fifty grand ago, and now our interests have how shall we say, shifted, and our curiosity is more about the loss of our money which you have been so freely spending  and the man power we have loaned to you rather than any more passing fancy in your cockamamie schemes. In fact, the only reason we are having such a pleasant discussion about this subject instead of a more carpet staining encounter is that I happen to know that you have also been using money from several of the major families for your project as well as a considerable amount of your own so I know this hasn’t been a simple con job and I don’t doubt the sincerity of your little high school science project here, but the Skulls have its limits to its patients and its pockets and sir you have just reached them. Maybe those other families with all their corporations and business can have a heftier entrepreneur spirit but the Skulls have always been a more tight and lean on the street sort of organization, living more fast and free, and two grand takes a bit of effort for the likes of us to recover from those self-same streets. Especially when the men I need to do that collecting are all being used by you as fed-ex employees running this way and that at your beck and call.” The lean short man in the buzz cut with the scar on his face continued to walk around the cluttered room with all its computer main frames and wires and cables until he stopped directly before a wall of monitors. “I have to admit I am curious as to what you have done with all this money. I mean by my own calculations you must have spent over several million dollars of the Bunhola’s family alone. But I don’t think any of those other families have understood that they weren’t alone in funding this little enterprise or exactly how many millions of dollars you have so rapidly spent in just these last few months. But I do. They may have much bigger pockets then I but it has been all my gang that has been getting closer and closer to getting nabbed on all your little outings. It’s my men, my boys, my brothers of the Skull who have been just narrowly escaping the law time and time again. And it is the Skulls, dear professor, who are drawing the growing attention of the law and thus inevitably the capes upon our back. And it is time to end it before it ends us.”

“Would you like to see what two hundred and fifty million buys you Mr. Skull?” The voice was thin as it floated down from the gantry above the man. Shadows of Skull gang member’s moved this way and that above him. There was the pop of electricity and the entire wall of computer monitors sprang to life. Screen after irregular sized screen exploded with images of Ms. Americana.

“It’s true then. You have been using my men to stage all these fake crimes to draw the super heroines in and then you have had them film the super heroines.” The wall of screens became increasingly an almost seemingly endless parade of close ups of Ms. Americana’s huge jiggling breasts. These collapsed down until only the top row of screens where of the patriotic hue huge heaving chests. The other screens where now full of Flag Girl and these quickly became close-up shots of her own mounds of jittery cleavage. These in turn collapsed down into just a row of Flag Girl breast bursting bouncing. And the remaining wall of screens were filled with Omega Woman, which quickly became just zoom close ups of her impressive wiggling boobs. And so it went, super heroine after super heroine until all the rows were filled and then each row collapsed down into a single screen loop clip of that super heroines bouncing boobs as still more and more super heroines filled the wall with images of their quaking teats. “Great. You have spent almost three hundred million and a year of my men’s extremely valuable time to get yourself one hell of a super heroine breast fetish porn collection, congrats professor. I think I will be taking my boys back now before the law, or one of these capes, or one of the families starts showing up wondering where their money went as well.”

“You lack vision boy.” The voice above him had turned gravely and low.

“I lack two grand and I can see I am not going to be getting that back any time soon. So I will be leaving now with my gang and leave you to deal with the fallout of your little folly here.” The scar faced man unbuttoned his suit jacket and reached into touch the handle of his shoulder holster Sig.

“Folly?! What folly? What you see before you is the culmination of a life time of sheer genius. I have spent the last several months drawing super heroines to locations of my choosing with criminal activities for the sole purpose of then filming their jiggling breasts with my special cameras. And now with Micro Maiden captured on camera this morning I now have a complete collection of every active super heroine in Delta City, all four hundred and eighteen of them! The entire Aphrodite gene pool of these so called super heroines, all mine, all captured and processed. You see my young friend, each breast of an Aphrodite gene super heroine is utterly unique in how it moves, how it jiggles, how it’s firm yet supple watery gravity defying sphere of opulence jitters and undulates with the slightest breath or action of the super heroine herself. It is as unique and as permanent despite its continued triggered growth through milking or sex as any common finger print. And it cannot be hidden or masked by bra or garment. No matter how it is encased it will always produce the same signature vibration, the same constant and original ‘shudder’. And I now possess every ‘boob print’ of every single super heroine in Delta City right here in my data base.” The voice was tinged with a deep resounding timber of smug satisfaction.

“And what good dose those do for you?” The man continued to keep his fingers on the hand guns cold handle.

“It does exactly what I said it would. It allows you or any other who would be rid of these super heroine busy bodies to stomp them out at your leisure as one would any house hold pest.” The voice was almost a physical sneer in its offhand huff.

“Ah yeah not quiet seeing that professor. So again, how?”

“When is a super heroine at her most vulnerable, Mr. Skull? When she is not a super heroine. When the mask comes off, when she is back in her secret cocoon of her ‘civilian’ identity. When her alter ego is laying down for a good night’s rest. And that sir, is what I can now give you. I can tell you every name every address every employment of every super heroine’s civilian identity by her boob print. A telltale attribute which she can never hide!”

“But if we stage another crime to draw the capes out then they just show up as capes so what good dose any of this really do us? I mean do you expect us to now walk around Delta City and take videos of every large busted skimpy dressed woman in the city? Because I am telling you that is hundreds of thousands of women and would take years to pull off?!” The man had pulled his hand back out of his jacket to rub his scared chin in thought.

“You think too small. Besides setting up cameras all over the city to watch the coming and goings of every woman in Delta City would never work. The normal ambulations, the day to day gyrations of the common walking woman’s breasts would not trigger the boob print we need. No to get a lock, to a get proof positive match of a super heroines boob print, to sync the algorithms, we would need the woman in question to place her breasts into some exertion. They cannot simply be walking or even lightly jogging they must be placed under some duress and for several minutes at that.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“At phase two, Mr. Skull, at phase two.”

*************************************************************************************

“Thanks for arriving on such short notice, Ms. Americana.”  The figure speaking before Ms. Americana was Delta High School senior Tommy Knockers. Despite her masculine first name she was obviously female. Even in her leather jacket one couldn’t help but notice her large firm round double DD cup breasts nor did her skin tight faded blue jeans leave much doubt as they caressed her bubble butt and camel toed deeply into the crotch of her slim five foot four frame. “It may be nothing but I thought I should pass onto you what I stumbled over here tonight. I hope I wasn’t impertinent.”

Ms. Americana looked around her at the large warehouse it was a dark and cloudy night and the building was poorly lit. “Not at all Tommy, or should I call you…GHOST BABE?”

The raven haired teen smiled behind her glasses and pulling up her jacket sleeves revealed a rusted iron maniacal upon each thin pale wrist. She clanged these together and in a flash of eerie iridescent greenish light the teen was replaced by the floating figure of a six foot two silver mane pale skinned woman. Ghost Babe’s costume consisted of a large black belt which was cinched tight around her breasts which were now a staggering double GG cup. The belt was fastened with a palm sized broach instead of a buckle and the long strip of black cracked leather ran far past the length around the super heroines small back and large chest so that past the point of the broaches clasp of the circlet of this binding strap the end fell down the front of the woman to a point just a few inches below her crotch. Her second belt identical but much smaller in length and width to the first was also cinched tightly but around the ample buttocks of the floating woman.  Where the upper belt upon the mighty heaving chest was bound on the front of her body by the cameo broach, directly in the center of her jostling cleavage, the lower belt was connected by a simple knotting of the leather strap at the center of her equally impressive cleavage of her round pert backside. Thus the upper belt’s remaining long tongue of leather passed down the shimmering front of the super heroine where it was kept snug by being passed under the second belts circlet acting as the only covering for the woman’s crotch. And the left over strap of leather of the second belt did equal service as it fell down behind to give token coverage of the woman’s backside. Other than these two belts the only other garments Ghost Babe wore where rusted manacles upon both wrists and upon her slim ankles. Clanging any two of the manacles together triggered her transformation into Ghost Babe or back again into Tommy Knockers. In her Ghost Babe state the manacles had several links of rusted chain attached to them that clinked like snowflakes of falling glass on a windless night. All about the figure a steady slow white fog rained down over her body and spilled upon the floor. “I wasn’t sure you would remember me. We met just that once and that was years ago.”

“I am not in the habit of forgetting someone who saves my life, Ghost Babe.” The Queen of Justice smiled, “now what is it you found here in this warehouse that you thought I might be interested in?”

Ghost Babe returned her smile and a rusted iron lantern appeared in her outstretched hand, she spun slowly in the air and proceeded further into the dark silent ware house lighting the way with the lanterns strange bluish pool of light.

Ghost Babes powers where of an uneven sort and she fought crime mostly as a loner. It was unusual for her to contact another super heroine and Ms. Americana couldn’t help but muse what the young? woman had found. As far as she could tell from a quick heads-up on the Ms. Americana car computer there was very little factual knowledge about both Tommy Knockers and her super heroine counterpart Ghost Babe. There were only rumors. Those manacles that Tommy wore as a pair either on her wrists or her ankles or both so she could transform at a moment’s notice into Ghost Babe were said to be slave chains casted from melted down bells from some slaver ship or a desecrated church where slaves were kept and died in a fire, no one was really sure. But it was the broach that was used to keep the breast binding belt in place that was key to Ghost Babes powers, Ms. Americana knew that. Take the broach away and Ghost Babe could not focus her abilities at all. Those abilities were strange indeed and contrary to the popular whispers on the street Ghost Babe could use her powers during the day light hours though they were greatly diminished. As far as what Ms. Americana had observed in the past, Ghost Babe could fly, turn herself invisible (but she had to close her eyes and keep them closed to make this work), turn herself into an apparition state, that is not truly of the physical world and thus invulnerable to all physical attacks (she could only maintain this state for as long as she could hold her breath), and she could phase through walls and teleport short distances providing she had already been in the place she was targeting to beforehand, but these powers left her a little weak and tired whenever she used them. She also had the ability to transport items such as the rusted lantern she was using now and her civilian clothes and glasses from and to some unknown location in an eye blink. The simple truth was that Ghost Babe was not really a ghost at all. She just had some super natural powers and a rather spectral appearance. Oh and Ghost Babe kept her coochie completely shaved off, a bald beaver all the way, as Ms. Americana couldn’t  help but notice as the belt swung this way and that upon the floating waif. ‘I will need to add that little tidbit to the Ghost Babe file latter,’ Ms. Americana made a mental note to herself and cleared her throat as she came up behind the now stopped and hovering super heroine.

Ghost Babe let go of the rusted lantern and it hovered in the air before her as she shot out her hand and the few chain links on her right wrist became an instantaneous long whip of rusted chain links that wrapped themselves around a metal handle upon the concrete dirty floor and with a simple snap of her arm sent the heavy metal cover sailing into the air where it invisibly clanged into the dark shadows behind her.

‘That’s new.’ Ms. Americana thought to herself, ‘shaves her pussy bald and can make whip like tentacle attacks with her chains… must add that to her file when I get back to the Ms. Americana car.’

“You will have to go down there,” Ghost Babe crossed her arms over her jiggling about to burst from its indented tight belt bondage chest and holding her breath she slowly descended into and through the floor until her and the light of the rusted lantern had disappeared entirely.

Ms. Americana switched on her belt light that shown a star shaped cookie cutter light beam of illumination from her buckle and proceeded down the open hatchway with a few quick acrobatic leaps.

The opening in the floor lead directly to a roughhewn tunnel that ran in erratic fits and leaps and had obviously been dug very recently as could be seen by the fresh muddy condition of the floor and walls. Haphazard supports had been thrown up here and there against the threat of cave-ins and the floor its self-had been covered in places with long metal grating and splinted un-kiln planks of white pine. It gave some footing against the mud and puddles but still made for a slippery staggering stride at best.

“It is obvious that whoever made this tunnel did so for but a few uses and not for a continued use over time,” Ms. Americana waved her arms about as she struggled with the uneven floor of the passage.

“True,” Ghost Babe had appeared with her lantern before Ms. Americana as suddenly as well a ghost. “I believe this was dug for a single one time purpose. I had stumbled upon a group of thugs skulking about this warehouse earlier this night. The ware house its self is remote and usually stores bulk housing of low grade steel pipes and tonnage of gravel and occasional road salt... Nothing that would interest a group of thieves. But the men where members of the Skulls and I remembered they have been creating a number of nuisance robberies of late for the super heroines of Delta City so I decided to investigate a bit further. In the fractious that followed all but one escaped and while questioning him I noticed how dirty his knees where, caked with mud as well as his shoes and yet it has not rained in weeks. He in turn managed to escape and I set about looking for some grave or pit they may have dug to hide a body or loot and found this tunnel.”

“And where does it lead Ghost Babe?” The patriotic pugilist pondered out loud.

“Why, here,” Ghost Babe drew up short and motioned to the collapsed concrete wall of what was apparently some storage room.

“Hmmm,” Ms. Americana poked her head out of the irregular aperture and cocked a frowning head this way and that. “And any idea where here is?”

“Yes, this is the sub-basement for the heavily security grounds for Wade Industries Aeronautics Labs.” The powered skin super heroine joined Ms. Americana in poking her head about into the room and looking around though she poked her head through the wall it’s self while Ms. Americana used the recently constructed hole. Both women pulled themselves back into the tunnel proper. “Did I do right in contacting you? Do you find this interesting?”

“I most certainly do. Interesting and unsettling. Thanks Ghost Babe. Oh and when you shaved this morning you missed a spot.” Ms. Americana gestured with a gauntlet gloved hand.

“Oh really?” Ghost Babe pulled up her dangling front belt, “well Tommy was in a hurry. Semester finals this week and you know how little time a girl gets to herself these days.”

“Oh believe me I do indeed.” Ms. Americana looked down at her own over grown patch of pubic hair that was growing out around the edges of her red, white, and blue stared micro-thong panties.

*************************************************************************************

“Well I don’t understand it,” Ms. Americana was talking into her star broach choker mic to Flag Girl as she expertly weaved the speeding Ms. Americana car down the dark streets of the industrial district. “From what I could get from the security personal at Wade Aeronautics nothing had been stolen nor tampered with? How has your stake out gone so far at the lead we got on the Skulls new hideout?”

“Nothing really to report, I found a good location on the rooftop across the street.” Flag Girl’s teen voice couldn’t hide its initial pout but then it suddenly perked up as she continued. “I did get some awesome pics as a few of them changed out of muddy coveralls and back into their Skull jackets and leather pants! I can see why they are using a butchers shop as a new cover for their hide out! Talk about some grade A salami! Tee-Hee!”

Ms. Americana rolled her eyes and sighed. “Did you say muddy coveralls? Could be some of the thugs that escaped Ghost Babe earlier this night? Hmmm, I wonder what they are up to. Oh and Flag Girl I want to see those pictures as soon as you get back to the house…ahhh they could be important for identifying principle Skull members.”

“Oh you can see their members alright. I used a telephoto zoom lens!” Flag Girl squealed.

“Good girl! I will see you shortly! Ms. Americana out!” Ms. Americana whipped her car into the next lane cutting off a bus full of nuns who all promptly flipped her off as she shot past.

*************************************************************************************

“Well gentlemen with the launch last week of the latest Wade Industries communications satellite we have now completed phase two. Thanks to the Skulls replacing the C.I.A.’s standard little parcel that has been a staple upon every satellite launched since the sixties, we rather than them can now use this particular satellite for our own use and none will be the wiser.”

The row of business suited men sitting in the rather uncomfortable metal folding chairs looked up at the shadowy figure who was speaking and back again to the wall of monitors which showed various close-ups of huge titted super heroine breasts jiggling as well as now a satellite blip on a wall map of the earth. Skull gang members stood around the room with arms crossed silently waiting.

            “We may now launch phase three and as such I have invited you all here as this will be the culmination of this project and the reward which you have all spent so much money and patients to achieve. I promised each of you that I could destroy every super heroine in Delta City if you would be willing to fund the cost and now I am about to do just that. You see on the wall the ‘boob print’ the unique signature jiggle of breast bounce frequency of every super heroine of Delta City and you see the satellite which now carries along with its normal communications relay our own computer package rather than the C.I.A.’s usual little secret add-ons. This satellite will now read the entire of Delta City in a continuous sweep and send down its special modified array findings to this bank of computers. Which will in turn run all that information through its filters to arrive at this… “The wall of monitors turned into a map of Delta City covered in thousands of red blips. “Each of those red dots gentlemen represents a pair of breasts that comes close to matching the one of four hundred and eighteen of self-proclaimed super heroines boob print algorithms of this fair city. By syncing that information with the Cities own security camera and personal cell phone and web cameras as well as the incredible super zoom optics of the satellite its self we get this…” a single red dot was selected and quickly blown up to show a woman in a crowd walking down the city street. Her massive jugs pouncing under her tight blouse as she swayed through the busy streets. “That gentleman is a possible super heroine not in costume but in her defenseless civilian identity. And we can follow her anywhere in the city, right to her very doorstep. But… thousands! And we don’t want thousands now do we?! No we just want the slut bitches who ARE the super heroines making our lives one endless inconvenient headache! And to do that we must implement phase three. With phase three we can isolate and absolute identify every single super heroine regardless of what civilian attire she is wearing and pinpoint her exactly on this map and follow her throughout the city at whim!”

There were notable gasps and squeaks as the flimsy metal chairs rocked under the suddenly animated business men.  “And what is this phase three you keep talking about?! How do we find out who exactly each one of these super heroines secret identities are?! We can’t go around icing thousands of women we have to know who exactly the supes are!”

“And you will gentlemen. You will. You see to tell which of these red dots is or is not a super heroine we have to increase the amount of shall we say energetic motion of these breasts in question. We need to increase the jiggle factor as it were. We have to put these breasts in question under a lot more stress than a mere strut through the streets can provide. And that brings us to phase three. This little device.” Once again the wall of monitors changed their collective images to reveal a dimly lit cylinder obviously underground swarmed around by Skull gang members and some lab technicians. “And before the questions can begin, let me say this is a little something I call ‘the jiggler.’ The final piece of my Udder Shudder plan. This device will instigate a stage seven or more earth quake throughout all of Delta City for several minutes and during that time the satellite and these computers here will locate and positively identify and then continuously track every super heroine in the city!”

“Ah, but professor? An earthquake? I mean won’t that destroy the city? What about all our business and homes?”

“Well gentlemen you have to break a few eggs as they say.” The shadowy figure up on the scaffolding above them sounded indifferent and perhaps a touch bored.

“Wait this is nuts! What good is it to know who the capes are if the entire city is destroyed in the process?!”

“Hmmm, well sadly I had predicted you gentlemen might become a little squeamish in the final phase. If you so choose you may leave and I will be forced to think of another way to crop the numbers of thousands down to the exact amount you seek. But it will take time. More time and you will have to be patient.”

“Yeah that is more like it. But not a penny more in money until you deliver what you promised! And there is no way we are going to let you demolish the entire city just to snuff the capes. So get that through your thick head!” The men got up yanking on their belts and ties as they crossed across the room to the elevator doors which whisked open and allowed them to rapidly enter. The doors closed on the group of surly men and there was then a loud muffled scream.

“Professor we are now at an altitude of several hundred meters above Delta City should we begin phase three?” The Skull glanced up from his computer terminal at the shadowy figure in the scaffolding above him.

“Yes, set a course to take the dirigible down town and then order the men in the mines to fire up ‘little jiggler’. Oh and my compliments to your piloting skills I don’t think our guests were the least bit disturbed with your take off during my presentation in fact I don’t think they were aware of it at all.”

*************************************************************************************

Cherrie Chambers pushed her shoulder length strawberry blonde hair out of her freckled face and weaved through the crowd while talking excitedly on her wrist communicator. “There is no doubt about it. The heads of several of Delta Cities notorious ‘families’ where just found looking like street pizza in a used car lot and not a high rise or building above two stories in the entire area! There has to be a connection to that strange unregistered blimp now hovering about in the downtown district. I am going to change into my costume and I will be there shortly!”

“Right Ms. Astonishing. We will look forward to your assistance. The dirigible has taken up a hovering pattern next to the Americana Tower of Justice. Ms. Americana over and out!”

Cherrie stopped up short as a taxi cab with heavily tinted windows swung up to the curb. It was indistinguishable from the hundreds of other cabs prowling the streets save for the decal of a small cluster of cherries just above the fake door handles. Cherrie waited for the suicide door to pop open and then quickly entered the cab which zoomed off.

“I was monitoring your wrist radio. So I take it you wana go to the Americana building downtown?” The driver was a pimply faced street urchin, illiterate but street savvy, and certainly not licensed to operate a motor vehicle.

Cherrie Chambers had received her super heroine powers late in life compared to most super heroines who often found some random occurrence or accident combined with puberty triggering their Aphrodite gene transformations.  She was what men called a dishy thirty year old when her powers had been unleashed and now at thirty-two she was still a hapless rookie by most standards. The young homeless man at the wheel of the swerving car she had taken to calling ‘Evert. That was a shortened version of ‘Pervert’. Cherrie had no fancy flash transformation powers; she was old school all the way. She had to strip naked from her civilian clothes and then put on her costume piece by piece and for the past two years she carried a large hand bag with her everywhere in order for her to be able to change her identity at dangers notice. And every time she had done this, just as she was completely naked with just her mask freshly applied, there had been Evert/Pervert! It never failed! It didn’t matter where or when, just as soon as her panties and bra where in her hand there was the boy! At first she had been mortified but then she had one day asked the kid to put his ‘pervert radar’ to good use and find out some information for her. After that the kid had become her unspoken non-costumed assistant in her war on crime. It was Evert who had ‘barrowed’ the taxi cab from a bunch of them trashed and abandoned after her battle with the giant metal monster from mars. But it was her who had fixed it up and gutted its interior to turn it into her mobile crime lab and transport.

It was much safer for her civilian identity to strip naked even in the jostling constraining confines of the back seat of a heavily modified taxi cab then to duck behind a dumpster in some alley way. And it sure beat stepping out of the back of the cab as Ms. Astonishing at the foot of some criminal activity rather than to come ‘jugging’ up always forty minutes late!

Still removing your wardrobe in the back seat of a rapidly swerving vehicle took some skill which she had yet to master. She found herself struggling to remove her pencil skirt and silk hose and garters with her knees planted firmly in the seat of the bobbing and weaving cab, her head down almost against her knees pressing hard against the leather to try and pin her body against the erratic pull of slippery inertia.

“Eye’s on the road, Evert!” Cherrie Chambers/Ms. Astonishing growled her voice half muffled by her own massive J-cup breasts, as she found herself wiggling her naked flame red pub pussy against the back of the young boys head. ‘Oh well, it’s not like I pay him or anything.’ The strawberry blonde thought to herself, ‘I suppose getting to peak at my hot little body is what keeps him going in this endless war on crime. And without his street smarts and the information he is able to come up with for me I would not be able to thwart the evil doings of men in this once fair city!’

The right thigh garter snap was proving difficult and Cherrie’s pussy continued to rub back and forth and up and down on the back of the young man’s head, pushing his leather slouch cap further and further over his wide eyed sweating face. “When we get down town try to park about a block away from the Ms. Americana tower, I want to make a good impression.”

“Ye-ye-yes ma’am!” Evert stammered.

Cherrie let herself tumble in the seat and came up like a Polynesian pearl diver breaching the surface of a churning storm surge. She began to shed her blazer and wiggle out of her massive bra. Again the cramped back of the cab filled with many of her portable crime fighting gadgets and a minilab forced her to sit on her knees on the bouncing back seat as she stretched her arms this way and that, her mighty chest slapped like waves of a mirror pool against the back of Evert’s head as the rocketing vehicle careened through traffic. She noticed that the back of Evert’s exposed head where the cap had been pushed almost forward to the tip of his nose that the hair was all wet and slick and bristled this way and that like the down of a licked bear whelp. “Evert are you using a new kind of hair gel?” Cherrie failed to notice it was the juice from her easily aroused pussy.

“Er, no-no-no ma’am, same as always.” The boy had to cram his neck upwards to see past the cap shoved over his eyes as the blur of the street whizzed narrowly missed cars and pedestrians by with muffled shrieks and curses and horn blasts.

Cherrie rolled her eyes and shook her head as her firm huge naked tits sat on the shoulders on either side of the now shaking sweating teeth gritting boys plum colored head. “I would have to get an assistant with a speech impediment. Humph!”

“Wh-wh-what ma’am? I am afraid I can’t quiet hear you.” Cherrie’s enormous tits slapped sharply on either side of Evert’s face stinging his cheeks with each pot hole bump and silenced his ears with their oceanic roils.

“And a hearing problem as well. Sigh. That undoubtedly comes from too little sex and too much playing with yourself.” Cherrie Chambers ignored the boy with a tongue click of disapproval and reached forward to adjust his rearview mirror so she could center her suddenly procured mask. “There now, that’s better.” Ms. Astonishing smiled at herself and gave her twinkling grey-blue eyes a wink. “Eyes on the road, pervert. I want to get there in one piece. And try not to dint a fender this time; you know how I hate doing body work.”

“B-b-body ma’am? Cherry as always ma’am!”

“That’s Ms. Astonishing to you young man.” Ms. Astonishing sat back in the seat still on her knees and pressed an upholstery button stud on the seat back cushion. Half the back seat slid suddenly forward taking the front passenger seat with it disappearing into the dash as an entire rack of clothes on hangers slid out and into its place. Ms. Astonishing began to dig through the hangers of plastic covered outfits, “yes. So much nicer than changing in some dirty old alley with disgusting perverts peeping at a girl’s unmentionables. Now, which costume variant to wear?!”

*************************************************************************************

“Yes Mr. Skull?” The shadowy man spoke over his shoulder from the scaffolding running across the back of the room/gondola of the mighty airship.

“I am not sure I follow this professor. The readings from ‘little jiggler’ suggest it is already at thirty percent power and yet not a single seismograph reading from the city below?” The scared faced man frowned at the electronic pad in his hand. “I mean we are synced up and are now in full control of the machine, all the men in the tunnel have evacuated, but well…”

“That is because the machine in question does not produce earth quakes Mr. Skull. I am afraid that was a little ruse upon my part to the heads of the families. You heard them, no more money. They had served their purpose. Now with them gone, and soon the super heroine community with them the families themselves will fall amongst themselves like a pack of rabid dogs and all the while I will sit and smile and soon find myself alone at the top.”

“But I don’t understand. If the machine does not make earth quakes then what does it do?”

“Do, Mr. Skull? It does exactly what I said it will do. It will destroy every super heroine in a one hundred mile radius. But it will leave the city intact. I mean common sense Mr. Skull. What is the first thing that happens when a national disaster like an earth quake happens?”

“All the insurance companies get the government to pony up all the tax payers’ money to rebuild everything so they don’t have to pay out a cent? So the poor who lost everything is made to pay for it all after already paying the insurance companies who get to keep all that money to buy a third yacht with?”

“Hum, er, yes. But that is not what I mean. What happens second then, Mr. Skull?”

“All the religious and political leaders start blaming gays or blacks or Jews or video games or ice cream for causing the disaster through an angry god’s will; thus shuffling off any considered reflection by the populace at large for their own utter incompetence in handling the matter with a misdirection of terrorist hate that causes newer problems to wash out concentration on the old?”

“Okay, okay the world is full of criminal shits! And most of them are in positions of anointed power that make us super villains look like grade school knock offs! C.E.O.’s, Congressmen, hell the entire republican party is bring slavery back and stripping away all civil liberties rights and doing it with smiles on national TV, but that is not what I am getting at here! Look, however far down the list it is; what happens in times of disasters and national emergencies is that all super heroines strip out of their civilian identities and emerge in their super heroine costumes! And considering I had told the heads of the families that the whole project here was to identify super heroines in their civilian personas that wouldn’t have been very wise or made any sense, right?”

“Wait a minute… what does this thing do then? I mean the red blips are not decreasing in number like you said they would. What is going on here?” Mr. Skull looked from the wall monitors back to the shadowy figure on the gantries above him.

“What is going on here Mr. Skull is crime on the cheap. It is not easy building or re- building an evil empire from scratch with nothing more than a pocket full of lint. To be blunt I falsified my own financial means and background in order to dupe the families and several small gangs such as yourself into producing the venture capital I needed to set things in motion. The map of monitors you see is indeed being produced by the package your men placed in the satellite above us. And it does show the location of the nearest match to the unique signature vibration of every four hundred and eighteen individual super heroines we painstakingly logged into our computer files with those special breast measuring seismic cameras over the last six months. However, the other dots are women who also have similar but not identical ‘boob prints’. Maybe they are women whose Aphrodite gene has awakened but they decided not to go into the super heroine biz or maybe they are hesitating or maybe they tried it once but at the first defeat and anal gang bang they hung up their cum-stained tights. And some might be women who are on the cusp of having their Aphrodite gene awakening but are not there yet. The simple truth Mr. Skull, is that in order to pinpoint each individual boob print to its owner would require multiple packages set about the city to triangulate the signal; packages that would cost about ten million a pop. And I would rather spend that money elsewhere at least for now.  As far as the bit about being able to zoom in on each dot and see the selected target via satellite optics or local security cameras or cell phones, well that was a lie. The image I conjured up on the screen for the former family heads was just some random street image. You can’t walk a block in this city without some huge titted thin waist slut bouncing by.  It would require months and millions of dollars to place enough communication boxes around the city to hub the low range signal of security cameras or to override and piggy back every phone transmission and the optic package on the satellite is good but not THAT good. I can zoom in on an area but not on a single person and follow them about the city for hours on end. This is a barrowed satellite not a high jacked one, we must use it seditiously not brazenly or the C.I.A. will activate its self-destruct and destroy it.  But what then is the point of all of this besides the cash it created? Well sir the purpose of this lovely little light show is that it now lets me roughly locate every super heroine in a one hundred mile radius. Or more precisely it lets me locate a pair of Aphrodite active gene breasts with just the right chemical compound housed within inside them for me to harvest and use to create my immortality elixir.”

“So this had nothing to do with destroying the supes?” Mr. Skull narrowed his eyes on the thin lanky shadow of a man hovering in the catwalks above him. “It was all just a con after all to get your hands on some fast money and use my boys for muscle to help set up your little floating base here.”

“There are many ways to destroy a super heroine Mr. Skull. I certainly do not wish any of them dead as they are a vital necessary component in my survival. But I cannot have them moving about freely trying to hamper my destiny. Little Jiggler is even as we speak sending out a wave pattern set to trigger an echoing vibration in each and every red dot on that bank of monitors. For the ones who are on the cusp of dormant but ready Aphrodite gene ripe breasts this event will trigger them into becoming awakened Aphrodite gene women. As for those super heroines out there already fully bloomed and blossomed it will trigger what is called by some a tit-gasm. One of the most powerful orgasms a woman can experience. While a normal orgasm renders an Aphrodite gene woman dazed and confused for several minutes depending upon the power of the orgasm that triggered it, a tit-gasm causes the super heroine to turn into a blind ravishing sexual raping predatory beast for several minutes. Imagine it Mr. Mask any super heroine out there in her mask and cape chasing innocent males or females down the street. Stripping citizens of their clothes in front of groups of people with their cellphone cameras and eye witness testimonies and sexually molesting them while the whole world watches. Now, is that not what you would call the destruction of that super heroine? Do you think she would ever be able to don her cape and mask again? And those not in a cape or mask at the time? Well we can fire up Little Jiggler anytime we want and disgrace them, shame them, strip them of the public support they so desperately need, one at a time if need be. And yet I will still be able to come to them, hidden in their dark currten drawn homes or in their dank jail cells, and still milk them and have what I need as often as I want. A perfect plan wouldn’t you say?”

The wall behind both men suddenly burst into shower of shrapnel debris. “Alright hold it right there!”

“Power Star!” Mr. Skull shouted as he coughed and tried to wave acidic black smoke and concrete dust from in front of his face with his gun clenched hand.

“That’s Princess Power Star to you lowlife scum!” The floating tousled haired blonde in the white and pink skimpy ballerina tutu and thigh high pink boots chimed.

“I’m sorry but do you have a warrant to enter these premises?” The figure on the scaffolding calmly stated in a light and cheery voice.

Power Star gritted her teeth and was gone in a blur only to return a few seconds later with a poor man dangling from one small fist. Unfortunately she held the man by his belt loops and the seat of his pants and his pained face was nearly purple from the extreme ball crushing wedgie he was receiving. “I have something better than a warrant slime ball! I have the police commissioner himself!”

“Actually you would need a judge and no, that is not better than a warrant for forcibly entering my domicile but you may remain for a short time if you can manage to behave yourself and not cause any further damage of privet property.” The tall thin figure on the walkways above gestured a hand to the center of the room in a very assured manner. “Please Mr. Skull put that thing away. These are now our guests.”

Power Star dropped the police commissioner to the floor where he collapsed wheezing and messaging his crushed testacies as he breathless cursed all big titted super heroines everywhere.

“Now… how can I help you?” The figure threw open his welcoming arms.

“You are hovering above the Ms. Americana Justice Tower bub, and that’s privet property. In an unregistered vehicle, which I know is against the law.” Power Star made a sour face with her hands on her round pert buttocks as she hovered in the air arching her back and jutting her large bosom before her in an angry tiff.

“Actually the privet property pertains only to the ground upon which that gaudy tower stands not to this public air space. Ms. Americana has never applied nor received any special grants or wavers to privatize or restrict the air space above or around her tower. As far as the registration of this vehicle it is registered but you are right in that it bares no outward markings. We have obtained a special and very expensive permit from the Delta City Film Council to allow us to film downtown location shots for sixteen hours and allow us to use this vehicle in those shots without the registration numbers providing we remain in constant contact with the Delta City airport tower during our scheduled flight path… Which as you can see we are.”

A skull gang member sitting at a computer station looked up with headphones and mic and smiled and waved at Power Star and the now staggering to his bow legged feet police commissioner.

The Police commissioner was now looking over several pages of permits and documents that a skull had promptly brought to him and thrust into his hands. “Well everything certainly looks in order and perfectly legal. I am sorry to have bothered you, Mr. ah?”

The figure moved out from the shadows above and into a shaft of light that the new hole in the wall produced. He was wearing a bright red and gold brocaded gown of twisting dragons and his youthful thin Asiatic face smiled under his short oiled hair, “Feng Shui.”

*************************************************************************************

Ms. Americana stood outside the Ms. Americana Justice Tower and stared up at the large dirigible that had been slowly circling the tower for the past half hour. A few of the usual gathering of Delta City citizens where enjoying the weekday in the surrounding park and gardens of the tower and some of them where looking up from their picnics and strolls at the slow moving craft now and then. A short thin balding man in a Wade Industries jump suit was racking leaves and twigs around the duck pond a few meters away. Ms. Americana strutted out to him wondering why the airship had not set off her cutting edge perimeter defense system alarms and how Power Star was doing. “Flag Girl report. Flag Girl do you read me? Flag Girl this is Ms. Americana are you receiving me? Flag Girl come in. Flag Girl come in!”

“Thi-sss is Flag Girl annnnnd I am cumming. Over.”

“Flag Girl this is Americana I am at the Justice Tower what is your present location?”

“I’m ah-ah still at the stakeout location oooover.”

“Wha? I thought you were on your way back here. Listen I need you to pull out, do you read me? Over.”

“Pu-pull out? Are you sure? I mean we’re not done yet.”

“Yes. There is something strange going on here at the tower and Omega Woman is away in space on a mission on Epsilon Pi. Power Lass is in Washington again. Champion Girl-“

“Who-who’s pie?”

“Wha? No I am saying that I had to use Power Star of all people to investigate this odd air ship buzzing around the Tower. She was the only flyer at hand. I-I-I” Ms. Americana half collapsed in her stride as a strange dizziness and tingling seemed to rise up in her body.

“Are you alright Ms. Americana?” It was the middle age man in the Wade workers coveralls. Ms. Americana vaguely remembered him, a Mr. Milktoast or such, a very nervous but reliable man who worked as a janitor for Brenda Wade in her new modest Brenda Wade headquarters as well as doing basic grounds keeping at the Ms. Americana Justice Tower a few hours a week. There were just certain things robots weren’t very good at. Thankfully most of them where just the sort of thing a menial subservient male could just about manage without screwing things up too much.

“Ms. Americana are you alright?” There seemed to be a lot of rhythmic static coming from Flag Girl’s communicator but one could still make out the genuine concern in her voice.

“I-I-I’m okay, just a little light headed there for a moment.” Ms. Americana righted herself rubbing her head. Mr. Milktoast couldn’t but help to notice that she seemed oblivious to how her breasts were vibrating rapidly.

“Do you need mouth to mouth resuscitation?” Flag Girl’s voice rang over Ms. Americana’s star shaped ear ring.

“No-No I am alright now.”

“Are you sure? Four of the guys have their pants off already.”

“Wha? Pants off? Why would you? Listen you don’t have to take your pants off to perform mouth to mouth resuscitation!”

“Really?! Boy are the couch and the entire football team going to be soooo embarrassed when I tell them that! Ha! They have been teaching me mouth to mouth resuscitation and C.P.R. in gym class for the past six semesters and they have been doing it wrong all that time! Ha! Boy are they going to feel stupid!” Flag Girl laughed.

Ms. Americana spun on the hapless Mr. Milktoast who clutched his rake across his chest and cringed. “Why are all men noting but perverted scum!” Ms. Americana’s breasts where just inches from the frightened man’s sweating face, vibrating so rapidly now that her erect and puffy nipples had slipped out of her top and seemed to threaten to poke out the man’s wide unblinking eyes. “Why do they insist upon seeing us as nothing but sexual objects to be lusted over?” Ms. Americana’s face was flush and her eyes kept rolling back into her head as she moaned and sighed and breathed heavy and shook the poor terrified man in the cover-all’s by the arm as little leaves fell off his rake and rained down around him covering up much of his bald sweating head. Ms. Americana licked her trembling thick pillow lips and breathlessly barked her horse whispered words into her neck choker mic, “Flag Girl, Flag Girl come’n?”

“I’m trying to as fast as I can ma’am.” The rhythmic static now sounded almost like waves lapping on a shore.

“Listen I think someone maybe trying to jam our communications I need you to pull out.” Ms. Americana was weaving badly on her shaking legs as a slow wet stain spread across the front of her micro-panties. As she lurched along she dragged the frightened man with her, he stared in concerned fear at the super heroine’s mighty breasts which now where not only vibrating but leaping about as if she were jumping down a stair well made out of trampolines!

“Right! Got it! Jam and pull out! Thanks for the tip Ms. A. Over and out!”

“M-M-Ms. Amer-mer-cana?! This is – Please Ms. Astonishing it is hard to drive with your ankles around my neck like that!”

“Evert is that you? Put Ms. Astonishing on!” Ms. Americana was moving now half bent over like some cave man beast creature and dragging the squirming but helpless Milktoast behind her.

“MS. ASTONISHING! Oh my stars and stripes! Uh, I would Ms. Americana but uh she seems to have her mouth full right at the moment! Uh I think there maybe something uh a little wrong with her? She’s acting a bit out of the ordinary!”

“Evert what happened to your stutter?”

“MS. ASTONISHING!” There was the distinctive sound of a car swerving followed by a crashing sound and then silence.

“UGH. Something tells me the Maiden of Mystery is going to be a little late. Where is Knighthawk when I need her... she always had a gifted long tongue!” Ms. Americana looked back and down at Milktoast who had latched on to a concrete bird bath. Ms. Americana sneered, “ready for a raise little boy? Time for your assessment and evaluation.”

Milktoast’s shrill scream was suddenly cut off as a covey of doves exploded into the sky above questioning picnickers.

*************************************************************************************

“Blimp-falling! Must save it from crashing into Americana tower!” Power Star had sort of spun down from the air like a falling leaf and had collapsed in slow motion onto first her toe tips and then her knees as she clutched her head and then her breasts and crotch.

“Ah, what is wrong with the cape?” The police commissioner spoke to no one in particular as he backed cautiously away from the obviously odd behaving super heroine who now half writhed on the floor as she began to savagely buck the air with her swiveling hips.

“It’s hard to say with these so called super heroines. I always thought the whole lot of them to be, well unnatural and highly unstable.” Feng Shui looked dead pan upon the girl who kept saying over and over again that the blimp was about to crash into the Ms. Americana Tower. “She seems to be placing her personal vertigo within into a projection of perception of the world around her. That could be dangerous.” The tall thin man raised an eye brow.

“Dangerous! Well what the hell should we do? I mean what’s wrong with her?!” The police commissioner as well as the skulls on the floor below began to move slowly away from the semi-floating still savagely humping super heroine who had just ripped her leotard top open letting her rapidly quivering breasts leap forth. Drool from her open mouth splattered upon her jiggling cleavage as she stared at everyone with eyes rolled almost back in her head.

“What can we do? She is a super heroine far more powerful than us and for some odd reason allowed to run rampant throughout our lives; leaving us at their mercy and beck and call.” Feng Shui spoke in an absent off hand manor but the girls continued slurred instance that the blimp was about to crash was causing him to frown and pull at his chins long thin beard with his long finger nails in deep thought.

“You’re preaching to the choir Mack. I have been telling the mayor that these girls are way too dangerous to be allowed to play vigilante on the streets. But dose he or anyone in Washington listen? Noooo! It is only a matter of time before these women take over completely and make us men little more than slaves in our own city! Our own country! Hell our own planet! Instead of warning people about these loose cannons of loose women, they got us cleaning up after them like maids or something and hiding all the stuff they do! The only ones who listen are those two Wade Brothers who believe it or not are actually related to that Brenda Wade cunt. Her cousins or some such thing, they at least took over Wade Industries and put that back on track. But that Brenda Wade she is still the leading voice defending these ultra-feminist types. You know what the term feminist means don’t you Mr. Shui? It means a woman standing around doing half the work watching the man who does his job and half of hers for equal pay!” The police commissioner was shouting but also obviously nervous and his rant ended with a frightened squeal as the super heroine suddenly shot up right her huge naked tits quivering as if they had been tied to the handles of a jack hammer!

“I don’t think Ms. Power Star here appreciates your criticism, Mr. Commissioner.” Feng Shui tapped a long bony finger on his chin as he watched the super heroine in perplexed curiosity.

“I don’t give a damn what she thinks! You know sweet heart taking me from my office like that right off the toilet is called kidnapping. And that is STILL a crime in this city, toots!” He was shouting at the wobbling super heroine from behind the shoulders of two uneasy Skulls who could back up no farther in the small room.

Power Star shook her head and letting go of her soaked deeply camel toeing leotard crotch looked above her and shouted, “Must save this air ship and the city below! Must push it back up into sky!” And in a blur she shot up through the roof and with a loud popping sound punctured her way through the envelope of the blimp as easily as one would stick their finger through a freshly used tissue.

“Oh bother,” Feng Shui rolled his eyes as the dirigible began to deflate sounding like a large whoopee cushion amidst the sudden droning of loud claxons erupting from several computer terminals.

*************************************************************************************

“Eh? What was that?!” Ms. Americana stood up right from her half crouch and Mr. Milktoast lowered the lawn chair he was holding before him and let the garden hose he had been using as a whip fall limp back to the ground; as Power Star in a streak of white arched from the sky above and landed with a splash in the duck pond.

“Ms. Americana! Your tits aren’t jumping around like crazy!” Mr. Milktoast shouted in hopeful observation.

“Get your perverted eyes off my chest Milktoast or you’re fired!” Ms. Americana growled as she yanked up her top which she was surprised was down around her waist. “Why is every man some fat slimy little limp dick sex offender?”

“Ye-yes ma’am. Sorry ma’am.” Mr. Milktoast looked over at the duck pond where the nearly naked Power Star was sitting in the waist deep water and rubbing her head. “Should we see if Ms. Power Star is alright ma’am?”

“You leave that to those superior women who can handle such things and get back to your job, cleaning up these grounds. If you put half as much effort into doing your job as you do in staring at helpless women as if they were pieces of meat; you would have all these knocked over trash cans and scattered lawn furniture already back in place! Men… it’s like training a puppy dog, you got to rub their noses in it or they never learn. Not that they ever do learn. They got the memory of a sea sponge. Hmmm, now where did that dirigible come from and what is a dirigible doing up there? Oh well, must be a football game in the downtown coliseum. They always try and get a shot of me sunbathing on my Ms. Americana balcony for the half time show! Ha! I must admit that must be more enjoyable than watching the Delta City Marauders lose another game!”

*************************************************************************************

Six blocks away from the magnificent forty story edifice of a giant golden ‘A’ shaped building known as the Ms. Americana Justice Tower was a squat recently renovated by Brenda Wade three story building set amongst the slums of Delta City which housed the new headquarters of Power Lass. It’s most distinguishing feature where two double glass domes on its roof looking all the world like two enormous breasts and lending the unofficial name; ‘double dome building’ to the tour bus guides and taxi drivers but for everyone else in Delta City it was simply called. ‘titty tower’. It was to this new but already infamous landmark that the limping dirigible listed. With no steering capability and slowly losing air out of its envelopes the lighter than air craft slide its gigantic phallic like balloon between the two giant glass domes. The gondola caught in power lines and half teetering on the edge of the roof caused a rocking motion so the long envelope began to rhythmic pulse forward and then back between the great domes until with a huge shudder the fabric burst in a shower of gas and sparks shouting up in a geyser and settling deflated between the massive twin spheres.

The Police commissioner and Mr. Skull and the rest of his gang clawed and clambered their way out of the wreckage under the watchful eye of a petite slim woman with large J-cup firm pointy breasts and a swelling firm pert backside jutting out from her ‘S’ curved narrow waist and small back. She wore a C-Clip armor top; that is the top was open between her two large swelling round breasts and was held on by the ridged and yet elastic nature of the back of the single piece which could be pulled wide enough to slip it up and over the breasts and then held it’s self their securely in place by the compound elastic pull of its semi-ridged material. It was called a C-Clamp type top because if it was taken off and laid upon the ground it retained its firm shape and looked like a letter ‘C’ on its side or a letter ‘U’ with its sides curved in to cover the breasts.

Other than this she wore a mask over her crotch. It looked like a wooden carved voodoo mask. You could see through its open mouth and eye holes and it was obvious that the woman wore no other garments underneath it and was a strong opponent to shaving or waxing a woman’s bikini area by the peekaboo of her own very harry bikini area. The mask began to talk, its wooden lips moving as it spoke, “They seem oaky to me, Hocus-pocus.”

The very young girl cleared her throat nervously and spoke in turn, “I am Hocus-pocus and Power Lass asked me to watch her place while she and her team were away in Washington. As an unofficial junior member of the Power Team, I have taken the liberty of calling the police and the rescue teams and fire department. Do you need any immediate help until they arrive?”

“Oh great, yet another super heroine,” the police commissioner growled as he continued to crawl on his knees from the debris.

“Where is Feng Shui?” Mr. Skull made it unsteadily to his feet and looked back over the now saggy balloon of the crashed dirigible. “It would seem he has vanished?”

“Pizza guy,” a pizza delivery man walked out on to the roof from the access door holding a pizza box and scratching his head.

Hocus-pocus nervously cleared her throat, “I accidently speed dialed the pizza guy when I was trying to remember the number for 911. Anyway who wants some of my pie? You’re all welcome to some! Get it while it’s hot! Tee-Hee!”

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

TWAT THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

“T’was The Night Before Christmas… A visit from St. Nicholas; is the pomes actual title but it is universally known by its first line as many pomes are that have passed down to us through childhood. This delightful work was penned by Clement Clarke Moore in roughly 1823, though of course there has been some speculation of conjecture that it might have been written by Henry Livingston, Jr. though in my judgment that claim is rather weak.  This here children is one of only four hand written copies made by Clement Moore and signed by him. Three are housed in museums and only one is in the public domain and that one recently sold for two hundred and eighty thousand dollars in Manhattan, New York.” The frail man beamed at the small group of school children gathered around the glass podium which housed the hand written manuscript along with several grainy black and white photos. He took off his spectacles and whipped them on his shirt tail as he continued to caution the children not to press to closely to the exhibit.

He put them back on his thin long nose just in time to see Ms. Americana come jiggling up to the group. “Ah children! Our guest speaker has arrived! Now boys and girls I am sure you all know who this is?! That’s right it is Ms. Americana. And she has graciously stopped in today on our field trip to the museum’s traveling ‘Christmas Through The Ages’ exhibit to read to us this delightful poem! Thank you for coming Ms. Americana!”

“Not at all Mr. Splinterdic. I am delighted to be here today with all these wonderful children.” Ms. Americana came to a standstill amongst the children and struck a pose with one gauntlet glove on a jutting hip as she smiled down at them.

“Ah, that is Mr. Woodcock, ma’am.” The man nervously joined in with the laughing children.

“Whatever. Anyway kids who’s ready for story time!” Ms. Americana laughed as the children began to jump up and down and scream.

The nervous man tried to quiet them down and twice rescued the podium from nearly tipping over in the explosive throng.

“You’re a bit of a nervous nelly aren’t you Mr. Woodpole.” Ms. Americana winked at the sweating man.

“It’s Woodcock ma’am.”

“Well it usually is when I am around. Well how about you just give me the book and I will read it to the children. Okay Mr. Toothprick?”

“Uhm. I’m afraid I don’t have a copy of the poem. I thought you were going to bring one with you or well that you had memorized it? I mean there is this original handwritten copy but-“

“That’s perfect! Ms. Americana quickly popped off the top of the glass case and began yanking out the fragile yellowed sheaves of parchment. Mr. Woodcock shrieked and slapped his hands on both sides of his open mouth shocked face.

“Hmmm, can’t make heads or tails out of this… looks like a doctor’s prescription for birth control… faded and smeared a bit here… is that…snif-snif… clam chowder?”

“I-I-I happen to know the poem by heart!” In a frantic huge breath Mr. Woodcock in absolute terror as he watched the document in Ms. Americana’s red gloved hands slowly shred blurted in a single shout; “T’was the night before Christmas and all thru the house, not a creature was stirring not even a mouse; the stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in the hopes that St Nicholas would soon be there; the children were all nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads; and mama in her kerchief and I in my cap, had just settled our brains for a long winters nap- when out on the lawn there rose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow, gave the luster of mid-day to objects bellow; when what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleight, and eight tiny reindeer, with a little old driver so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, he whistled, and shouted and called them by name, “Now! Dasher! Now Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen! On Comet! On Cupid! On Donder! And Blitzen! To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, now dash away, dash away, dash away all!” as dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle mount up to the sky; so up to the house-tops the coursers they flew, with a sleigh full of toys and saint Nicholas too. Then in a twinkling I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each tiny hoof, as I drew in my head and was turning around, down the chimney saint Nicholas came with a bound: he was dressed all in fur form his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot, a bundle of toys was flung on his back, and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack: his eyes- how they twinkled!  His dimples how merry, his cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry; his droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow; a stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke encircled his head like a wreath. He a broad face, and a little round belly, and it shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly:  he was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf’ and I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself; a wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, filled all the stockings and turned with a jerk, and laying a finger aside his nose and giving a nod up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, and to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew, like the down of a thistle;  but I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight- merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!” Mr. Woodcock blue faced and gasping collapsed bent in half as he struggled to catch his breath.

Ms. Americana tossed the tattered yellow papers over her shoulder and glanced over at the man as he shrieked again and fell to his knees trying to gather up the scattered document. “What was that Mr. Thornypants? Pull yourself together man. I am sure I can remember such an important piece of Americana after all I AM MS. AMERICANA, so who better to capture the spirit if not quiet the exact words of such a seminal work. Now gather around children and you shall hear the midnight tale of… er Santa Clause.”

“That’s the wrong poem!” An exasperated Mr. Woodcock squealed, “You’re standing on the manuscript! Now you’re standing on my hand and the manuscript you big titted slut!”

“Now where was I? Oh yes… Once upon a midnight dreary while I… no I recited that one at the old folks home last Halloween. Knocked them dead with that one, well a few of them anyway… oh now I got it! Twat the night before Christmas, in a crowded house, and all the horny men where peaking down my blouse; My stockings with runs like a tolling church bell, from a hundred drunken fingers had a wet musky smell. The Salaried management were all ripped without care, while hourly workers toiled elsewhere; the C.E.O. and his trophy wife had just fired the help, and laughingly told them to go get a life. When what to wandering bloodshot eyes should appear, but Psycho-Santa and his eight well hung peers! They crashed, they bashed, and they riffled the house; tied everyone up and then they got soused. From a closet with six snoring spent men, I made my way back to the party again. Seeing what I saw I spun in a flash and now as Ms. Americana began kicking ass! Their eyes filled with lust as they fell on my bust, which was white as a crest of new fallen snow. I had the advantage and began kneading the dough, of their crotches quickening grow; A squeeze and a shake, remember girls a kick is all that it takes, and soon I had them all laid low. I tied them I bind them I rope them in lights; I strip them all naked of their bulging elven tights. To be honest it wasn’t much of a fight. Just then the police ran inside and doing as men do let loose the wrong guys! I pleaded I protested I got read my rights! And got a candy cane shoved up me, a bit too tight; so the bad guys escaped and I got thrown into a cell; with forty convicts who I got to know very, very well.”

Ms. Americana smiled broadly at the cheering applauding children and raised a surprised eyebrow at the frozen shocked face of Mr. Walnuts who remained on his knees clutching the rumpled ruined document to his motionless chest.

Ms. Americana frowned at him and then looked back at the jumping happy children, “now remember if you want to grow up as big as mine drink plenty of milk! And get lots and lots of exercise! Oh and eat your vegetables or at least don’t waste them, I buy plenty of cucumbers myself just in case I am not hungry! And oh do some homework now and then, because we all need big brains as well as big strong chests. Right girls! And uh boys, er well try not to let your little chipmunks jump around so much as they are now… it’s disgusting and dirty. Well girls I have to thwart crime! You have a great and merry time with lots of cheerleader cheer!   Now I got to go, if you should see a man all in fur, have no fear but from his lap stay clear, and tell that pimp I am not his damn ho!”

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************************