World War 3.0 Public Beta
Written by WhitePaw :: [Monday, 26 September 2005 20:19] Last updated by :: [Wednesday, 19 December 2012 14:18]
The glowing gold rings peeled off her like a Xerox scan bar and faded into the threatening sky. She was a bristling turtle of sundry gun barrels, ammunition cases, and armor. She surveyed the wasteland canyon.
She was a sitting duck.
There was no cover for fifty yards in all directions. She could almost feel a red spot of light creeping up her heavily burdened legs to hover between her shoulder blades.
A sly grin licked her lips.
A puff of smoke leaped off the distant cliffs behind her. With a shrug of her shoulders, the clasp of her armory gave way. A mudslide of black metal hardware fell from her body as she stood, her back braced firmly against her assailant. She had a perfectly sculpted back. Her remaining whiff of clothing she wore left nothing to the imagination. The white bodysuit she wore was barely opaque over what little skin it did cover. There wasn't much to it behind her. She reached up and wiped the pith helmet from her shock of curly blonde hair and tossed the helmet to the ground beside her as she shook her hair free in the twilight gray. She was the most radiant thing on scene. Her visage seemed to glow with radiant beauty and confidence.
Half a mile away a grim soldier's eyes widened at the sight of her through his spotting scope as he stood to relocate. She gave the incoming round a wink over her shoulder. It seemed suspended in mid supersonic flight. It was a blackened slug of metal nearly the size of a soda can, it's sharpened tip oblivious to the ripples of shockwaves it cut through as it flew. It struck her svelte frame square in the back. It was expecting her to be a mere blink in its travels across the canyon. It was looking forward to a peaceful retirement, once buried forty feet into the rock wall fifty yards before her.
Its dreams were shattered on her back.
Her soft skin had only begun to give way for a nanosecond. It hit something unlike anything it or its kin had ever felt before.
It became a train wreck. Its titanium sabot crumpled off its depleted uranium guts. It splattered against her mere skin like a bug on a windshield. She shuddered-in glee.
That was just wrong.
The trouble with things traveling faster than the speed of sound is that you can't hear them coming, regardless of how much noise they're making.
It had ripped over the rim of the canyon in front of her. In the same time she took to whip her head forward again it dove into the canyon, leveled off low against the grassy floor, and tore across the remaining fifty yards between them. This was much faster-and bigger. There was no time for them to see eye to quartz-shielded electronic eye. It was the size of a small torpedo. It moved like a meteorite-making better than three times the speed of sound judging by the thick bow wave it snowplowed ahead of its warhead. It had no warhead. It was a kinetic kill weapon.
It struck her square. It barely fit, snuggled between her overgenerous breasts. She swooned in fast forward. Her breasts didn't completely part for its passage. Waves.
Her cleavage bounced back, smashing through the missile's hardened casement like wrecking balls through Styrofoam. Shattered shrapnel splattered across her body and across the ground all around her. The missile, its rocket motor still spewing fire, kept plowing itself into her chest like a thick branch into a chipper. Her breasts kept smashing through it like Mrs.Packman. Finally the weapon lost all its tank-splitting momentum. She grabbed it firmly by the tailfin roots and crushed it like a beer can against her. The remaining fuel flared a six-foot fireball all around her.
Her hair blew in the breeze, slightly singed from the explosion.
Her hands smeared the metal and carbon casings across her breasts as she swooned to the marvel of her own body. Sparks flew from the ammunition at her feet. Her eyes rolled back, her massive breasts firmly in her own clutches. Bullets flew from their casings like popcorn between her feet. Land mines and grenades blossomed dirt-clod choked fireballs all around her legs.
"Negative, negative!" A running soldier called out over his radio as he ran fleeing the canyons edge. "He's using some kind of chick model!" He huffed as he jumped clamored up the nose of a massive idling main battle tank on the grassy wasteland. "That pervert took a fifty square in the back, no damage! Some kind of armor or shield or something!"
"I ARAM'ed 'im square on!" Came the crackling response.
"Damn it, Lincoln!" The soldier yelled back. "I wanted his gear!" He slid into the tank's driver's seat, the lid clamping shut behind him. "You missed, Lincoln!"
Another voice squawked in. "You log head! I've still got a signal on him. Looks healthy!"
"What! He should be paste on my kill counter!"
"Fuck the cheat!" The third voice grunted. "Boss Hawk here, going to guns." A shadow flashed over the soldier's tank. The unmistakable high-bypass twin- engine whine of an A-10 warthog soared overhead, and barrel rolled into the canyon.
"Light 'em for me, Boss!"
"On, it, Lincoln, lantern's on!"
"I'm bringing Papa Smurf to the party!" The soldier in the tank revved its twin ceramic diesel turbine engines. Nearby gravel danced in the dirt as the hundred and ninety-ton beast peeled out and thundered towards the canyon.
"Bring a mop, Ace, I don't miss." Lincoln chirped.
"Where'd she go?" Ace's A10 buzzed the canyon like a skateboarder on a half- pike. Smoke scattered in its wake. "Hello, cutie pie!" The pilot spotted her, braced, arms to her side unmoved since she arrived in the midst of a blackened and smoldering landscape. All manner of red squares, triangles, circles, and diamonds clung to her on his screen like flies to flypaper. She was a sitting duck over his shoulder as his jet climbed into the sky above her. She wasn't even firing back.
"Sorry, babe!" The pilot smashed a whole row of buttons. A trainload of bombs of all descriptions unhinged from his wings. The swarm of them formed an iron thunderhead drifting into the air beside his aircraft. "God I love this plane! She's lit, Lincoln!"
With that and a ludicrously skilled yank on every control stick and pedal he could reach, his plane in one deft maneuver jerked back from the iron rain he had released, flipped its tail straight up behind it, and dove with a wide-open throttle out of the clouds straight at her. "To easy." He chuckled.
She hadn't moved yet. She was steady in his gun sights the next moment. He cut engines and squeezed his last trigger. The stock A-10 comes equipped from the factory with a battleship gun slung where its bomb bay should have been. While this pig wasn't' stock, it had all the usual factory accessories. The plane rattled and nearly stood on its fire-belching nose mid-dive as the cannon spun up to speed. It hailed supersonic soda-can-sized slugs of burning depleted uranium. The cannon was designed to shred hard targets tank-sized... and larger. Most of the raining death splashed deep into the canyon floor around her. The unlucky rounds splattered against her head, shoulders and breasts like water. She moaned with pleasure, lifting her voluminous breasts to giggle gleefully under the armor-piercing artillery shower. Her costume also held fast, nonplussed by the super heavy and superheated metal, yet straining to maintain its weave under the strain from within. If anything, she seemed to be slowly hulking out into slabs of muscular flesh. Her breasts seemed to be growing, even hardening. Her costume was surely quite transparent over her engorged and protruding nipples. Her breasts seemed to balloon and tighten with each striking round, jiggling less and less as the assault continued. Finally she took a quick inhale and snapped her hands to her hips in a classic traffic- stopping pose.
Her breasts snapped out and caught a round between them like a striking viper biting its pray.
The round itself strained to pass clean through her cleavage, its tip sagging through while her breasts held its sabot, but it spring back, noticeably rolled between her breasts.
She held it there.
The plane's belt of ammunition had run dry as the gun still spun to cool itself. The heavy swarm of black munitions raged past his plane, narrowly missing him in a powered dive as he began to loose rudder control. His plane had completely stalled for a moment, engines and all.
"Come on, baby." He followed the swarm of bombs nose-down for a moment as his plane fell off the nose cannon's backwards-rocketing recoil. His attention left his target for the moment to fly the plane. He couldn't see her anyway through the hellhole of dust and flame his gun just ripped out of the general area where she was standing.
"Bonsai!" Lincoln cried over the radio. Engine turbines windmilled back up in the falling wind. Burners roared back to life. Rudders and flaps took a new grip on the wind. Three more hypersonic torpedoes ripped over the canyon walls from the distant horizon. Without its ore-train of a bomb load, the A-10 actually flew more like a hawk than its swine namesake. It was a blur of a shadow as it rocketed up the canyon wall, just missing the twin gun barrels of the oncoming tank.
"Back off, Ace!" The pilot called out as his plane climbed freely into the clouds.
She caught two of the torpedoes as they flashed in at her under the rain. They crumpled like wads of paper against her palms, splattering shrapnel in all directions at supersonic speeds. The third she leaped into the air with legs spread and let impact her square in the crotch.
The canyon went sub nuclear. A rolling shockwave of dust and fire washed against the canyon walls and dusted the tank with debris.
The tank driver felt the ground shake. "Oh shit. Thanks a heap Boss!" Ace slammed his tank in full reverse. The tank bowed, peeled out in the dust, then clamored heavily uphill as huge chunks of the canyon wall fell away beneath it. Everything seemed to fall into the canyon as the updraft of the black and flaming mushroom cloud rising over her position sucked in the very dirt from the ground. "Fuck, Boss! What the hell did you drop?" Ace's tank struggled to its new perch on the canyon's impromptu rim.
"Full load of FAE's!"
"Fuck! I can see that from here!" Lincoln whistled.
"Who got the kill?" Boss smirked.
"Nothing on my boards!" Lincoln chuckled.
"Hail to the Chief!"
"Nope, nothing on my boards either." Hawk sounded disappointed.
"Fuck!" Ace chimed in. "You see that?"
"What does that 'e' mean?" Lincoln puzzled.
"Exponential!" Hawk gasped.
"That cheating little snot!"
"Hit points!" Ace saw it too.
"Fuck, she's just getting stronger!" Lincoln did the math (not quite on his fingers, but almost).
"Tac 'er, Lincoln! Ace man checking out!" He threw the tank into a reverse turn and peeled off a t full gallop fleeing the scene in a hail of dust.
"Shit. Why'd we give that idiot the nuke? Boss Hawk clearing!" The A- 10'sshadow whined over the tank, low and flat out for the distant mountains.
"You got it guys!" Lincoln knew the signal.
"Because he can't miss." Ace sealed the tanks systems. Iron chains unwound behind the tank as its turbines belched and spun down, their intake and exhaust vents sealing behind armored doors. The mountain of a tank slowed from seventy to thirty mph on its electrics, yet kept going. An armored skirt lowered over the treads, nearly to the ground as it plowed through the grass and dust. She sighed with an inner contentment. Her costume was shredded, only blackened threads still clung to her ash ands weat-smeared, yet perfect, skin. She hovered mid-air over a one-hundred-foot crater of dirt, ash, and broken rock. The jet fuel vapors were thick around her with dust, smoke, the smell of scorched steel and burning. Blades of grass embedded in the tumultuous wreckage flared in flame as a gentle breeze blew fresh oxygen across the crater. A wall of fire leapt a hundred feet in the air around the windward side of the crater as the stadium-sized bubble of unspent superheated jet fuel ignited where fresh air touched it.
Rocks began to glow red near the wall of fire. Black smoke poured in rivers out of the crater. She shrugged her now mountainous shoulders. What threads of clothing she had left either snapped like piano wire or just disintegrated in the caustic gas. She rubbed her hands sensuously from her clavicles out the three or four generous hand spans over and out across the bulging mounds of breast flesh that now seemed to playfully leap to her hands attention. She playfully bounced her monster breasts on her pecks quivering as she slapped her own hands heavily. Her slabs of ash-smeared abs quivered in waves as she grasped a handful each of her throbbing nipples.
She clamped down hard on herself. Sparks crackled under her grip. Her face contorted to something between straining agony and ecstasy. Her legs kicked and jerked about as her already bulging arms throbbed and grew until her biceps and triceps together were thicker than her waist.
Her chest unfurled with muscles like the hood of a cobra as her body strained to inhale the whole canyon while she tried to stay compressed. A whirlpool of noxious gasses drained into her lips.
More and more she inhaled of the shimmering and acrid gas.
The wall of fire swirled about and drew in on her.
Her nipples engorged beyond her fiercest grip. Her hands slipped down the lower bulges of her quivering mountains of breasts.
A spinning tornado of white-hot flame engulfed her as she inhaled the last of the jet fuel vapors.
Her massive arms extended out to her sides. She began to spin in mid-air with the flames as they flickered out.
Faster and faster she spun, momentarily forming a charred dust devil around her. Debris leapt off the crater floor and billowed hundreds of feet into the waiting mushroom cloud of ash above her.
She drew her arms in.
She was just a swirling blur now.
Her breasts began to elongate as the weight of her nipples strained against her ligaments.
Her image flickered and sparked.
She relaxed her pecks. Something flashed white hot and hypersonic from her vortex like a meteor.
It arced as it spun like a saw blade. It rolled over the rim of the crater in an instant. It flashed across the dusty plain, a rooster tail of dust in its wake. It snapped through the A10.
"Oh shit!" Ace looked at his overhead monitor just in time to see Boss Hawk's right wing sheared off. "Damn, Boss!"
The wing tumbled as it drifted to the earth like a thirty-foot leaf. The rest of the broken plane tumbled into a vertical tailspin, end-over-end like a tomahawk. The canopy exploded as Boss Hawk ejected.
"Fuck! Clean through my main spar from twelve miles out!" He chuckled in bewildered disbelief. "Papa Smurf need a gunner?"
"Coming to you, Boss!" Ace yanked the clutch back. "Papa Smurf" drew a roaring breath of his own as its gills flapped open once more to the dusty air. Compressor blades crawled with arcs of electricity as the twin turbines belched fire.
Skirts and chains fell off in the dust as the old man leapt to his running feet once more. "I see you, Boss." Ace called out as he spotted the parachute ahead. "Lincoln, can you get a fix on her location?"
"Blind as a bat, Boss." Came the reply. "She hasn't moved out from under that big black mushroom cloud as far as Echo-1 can see."
"Again, why did we put Lincoln on tactical?" Ace asked aloud as he skid the tankto a halt sideways in the sand.
"Because he can't fly." Boss Hawk climbed aboard.
"Because you two can't run six posts at once!" Lincoln chirped.
"Dig in, Log Head!" Ace shouted over the radio. "We're dead out here with heror that TAC inbound. Papa's dropped his shorts. Just survive and we win on points!"
"You've made some improvements to the old man, laddy." Boss Hawk strapped into the gunner's seat.
"I have to keep pace with you and that A10-X madness you just scrapped." Ace chuckled. "Besides, the Bismarck wasn't using 'em." Ace tossed Boss Hawk earmuffs over his shoulder.
"Glad I'm on your side." Boss grinned as he palmed the twin triggers.
"What if she comes this way?" Lincoln huffed as he stumbled over some unseen obstacle.
"Oh, I think we can hold her attention until Rosebud gets here." Boss Hawk eyed the horizon through the firing periscope. Papa Smurf's turret overhung his treads with two low and side-slung eighteen-inch bore, snub-nosed battleship deck guns. They were more ram horns than anything. All ninety tons of him leapt backwards like a frog when they fired.
A shockwave of dust and smoke ripped out from his feet like a bomb had detonated under him.
"Get soommme!" Ace screamed.
Papa Smurf landed on his shocks like a ceramic asteroid, armor plates flapping and clattering. She levitated from the crater's rim, flexing her massive arms over her head just for the sheer cat-like pleasure of watching her breasts bounce to obscure the horizon.
The shells spiraled into her at just over the sound barrier-weighing in at several tons...each.
As their aim would have it, and as she willed it, they struck her square in the breasts, nipple to detonator.
It was an even match for size.
The shells lost on stiffness and inertia. Their points burrowed nearly three inches into her nipples, pressing her back within her own tightly glistening masses of "padding".
At that point her breasts were firm enough for the detonator to consider them armor plate.
The shells detonated.
Fire, steel, and depleted uranium by the bucket washed over her body. The shockwave rippled through the taut flesh of her breasts and ricocheted off her impossibly stiff chest. Her nipples leapt forward five inches, blossoming in fleshy steel-hard roots behind instead of springing back. They now protruded like writing footballs from her enormously stiff and giggling breasts.
She closed her eyes and shuddered and shook in pleasure. She licked her smiling lips as her eyes rose again to the charging super tank.
The explosion had carved out a thirty-foot gouge like a giant ice cream scoop from the canyon walls around her. She hadn't budged an inch.
"Nice miss!" Lincoln giggled over the radio.
She sighed to the ground. Muscles washed off her body like buckets of suds off a car under hose, leaving her still quite well endowed, wickedly curvy, and well cut--but not monstrously so.
"She's regenerating!" Boss called out as he squinted at her through Papa's periscope. He armed the cannons again as the auto loaders loudly slammed another minivan-sized lump of metal and explosives into the breaches. " Wait!" Ace screamed as he tacked and wove Papa Smurf forward through the choppy sea of dust between them and her. "Papa will roll if we're moving on a broadside! Give me three! I'll line us up!"
The din of the engines, treads, clattering armor plate, heavy coil springs and hydraulics was deafening. Papa Smurf advanced through the grassland desert like a stampeding triceratops, tacking, thrashing, and weaving across the virgin grassland as he approached.
She closed her eyes and seemed to meditate while they closed distance. A new costume flickered electrically into view. Ashes, grease, shrapnel, and dust fell from her skin like a powder dusting in reverse. The new costume was also white. A hint of a stretched sweater cutout nearly covered her still not insubstantial breasts. She wore spots of a white leather bikini and fingerless white leather gloves to her slender elbows. One dangerously curved leg sheathed in a thigh-high white leather open-toed stiletto boot; heavy gold anklets about the other. A red silk cape unfurled in the grassland breeze behind her. A gold choker and the gold rings of various sizes that held the outfit together rounded out her refreshed appearance.
"She's back down to 100% health." Lincoln huffed.
"Not for long..." Ace licked his lips as he slid Papa Smurf skidding to within two hundred yards of her. "Three!"
Up close Papa Smurf struck like a spiraling pair of thunderbolts as he leapt like a mountain into the air. The muzzle flash alone nearly reached her. The twin battleship rounds leapt at her spinning from their sheaths of billowing fire.
She reached out and grasped the shells at flickering speed.
Her slender fingers raked sparks around the barrel-sized shell casings as she swung them around her body and up behind and over her head like her back swing on two bowling balls at once. Her fingers sunk into the steel casings like hot branding irons into Styrofoam as they ground to a halt in her grasp over her head.
Then she froze.
Papa Smurf collided like ninety tons of brick with the ground once more. Harnesses and wiring flopped about the cabin.
The bell-toll of the rolling breach loader clanged about from deep in Papa Smurf's bowels.
The tank settled on its suspension once more as Ace gunned the engine.
The gun sights leveled as the tank lumbered forward.
The smoke cleared.
"Oh my god." Boss man whistled.
She hovered two feet off the ground in a crane position, her svelte frame easily braced against the eight tons of battleship-shattering metal she held lightly over her head.
"What?" Ace looked up from his maneuvering.
"She can fly." Boss Hawk gasped.
"So?" Ace peered out his view port and caught sight of her with his shells.
"Oh, damn." And then he was speechless.
She gave them a spoiled smile and a wink across 100 yards of drifting sand.
She dropped the shells over her chest.
They fell like the lead weights they grossly outweighed.
With one thrust of her chest she bounced them off her breasts like quarters for the gentlemen's viewing pleasure.
The barrel-sized shells tumbled into the air between them, a new triple-E cup dentin the base of each.
With a wink to her audience her sight flickered from one tumbling shell to the other in mid flight. Flashes of white-hot laser-like beams pierced them through from her eyes like popcorn on a flaming needle. She disappeared with a sly grin behind the twin thundering explosions.
Papa Smurf's chassis shook and rocked as the shockwave hit him slant-on. A rain of iron and depleted uranium skittered across his ceramic armor plate, bouncing off like hail.
Ace was silent.
"How long for Rosebud, Lincoln?" Boss Hawg asked absently.
"Seven seconds!" Lincoln answered distantly.
"Ramming speed, Mr. Sulu!" Boss barked.
"Aye aye, Captain!" Ace opened the throttle and flicked the nitro injectors for the first time.
Papa Smurf jumped without his guns as his engines belched thirty-foot flames out their exhaust ports.
"Nitro doesn't work on diesel electrics!!" Boss called out as he was thrown to the back of his seat.
"Nitroglycerine does!" Ace grinned back as he struggled with the controls of the bucking beast.
"I love you, Ace!" Boss Hawk shouted over the machine's hellish cacophony.
Papa Smurf leapt across the gap, catching air over the craters the shells had left, jumping in flames off the far side.
She appeared in the smoke for only a moment before them.
The tank chassis hit her square.
She wasn't the squashed bug they were hoping for. The experience was more like driving a hummer-into a concrete overpass support.
The tank shuddered and pitched forward as she caught its ram plate with her bare, slender hands.
She didn't budge an inch as the ninety ton mountain barreled into her at well over sixty miles an hour.
Ace and Boss Hawk were slammed against their harnesses, and then slammed back into their seats as Papa Smurf's wild off-road rampage halted abruptly.
Ace could see her extremely attractive legs hovering above the dust beneath the tanks' prow on his ground camera screen.
Damn she's hot.
Damn she's ludicrously strong.
His brain locked for a moment trying to decide if she was stronger than she was erotic or the other way around. She held Papa Smurf's 30,000 ship horsepower in a rattling stalemate, his treads digging in while her feet didn't even touch the ground. One last button to press.
Drop-dead bombshell or not, she challenged us to a no-holds barred game. Grip it and rip it! Ace punched it hard.
Papa Smurf's troop doors in the aft dropped open.
The small troop bay was crammed with- "Get sooommmmeeee!!!!" Ace screamed. RATO packs.
"Fuck...me." Boss Hawk whispered.
The rocket packs fired.
Super heated titanium sweat oozed from Papa Smurf's glowing ceramic plate pores like mercury beneath her hands as she held him-but he held firm.
She didn't budge an inch.
She wasn't even straining.
She wasn't even touching the ground.
Papa Smurf shook and nearly rattled apart as he hammered his open-throttle 30,000 ship horsepower into the Earth, and nearly that in fire out the back. Confidence washed over her face.
Her arms flexed just the tiniest amount.
Papa's nose shattered. Sizzling hot ceramic and titanium dust exploded in all directions.
She threw her arms back and met the exposed titanium chassis breast-on. Papa stumbled into her.
Ace stared her in the face through the hole in his beast she had just ripped. She blew him a seductive kiss as Papa's main prow strut landed hard on her breasts.
Her impossibly firm breasts hardly bounced as the six-inch thick titanium and steel alloy strut bent onto her like a wire coat hanger with the force of a raging rocket-boosted locomotive.
He felt the impact of her chest as it rattled through his seat.
With her hands still clenched behind her, she hefted Papa Smurf's mountainous bulk into the air, treads spinning, rockets blazing as the tank flipped over her. She gave it a heave, sending the tank bouncing, rocket propelled and all, into her nearly oblivious breasts as it reached vertical.
She was almost giggling as she reached her hands up to Papa's collarbone strut. She gave Ace the most sensual wordless swoon and wiggle he had ever seen.
She ripped Papa Smurf's entire bow in half like a paper bag and tossed it nearly whole over her head behind her.
Ace and Boss Hawk tumbled speechlessly.
White-hot washed the world.
Color lost all meaning.
The blast hammered Papa Smurf hard into the rock canyon wall upside down up to his treads.
Ace and Boss Hawk vanished in static.
Papa Smurf's magazine detonated.
Smoking and white-hot postage-stamp-sized bits of him tumbled through the air as if in slow motion...and in black-and white.
Fifty feet underground, Lincoln watched his control screen. A white hot ball of fire lit like a dandy lion across his satellite view of the battlefield.
The satellite feed went blank.
Lincoln stood to his feet in a victory pose. "Winner, and still champion!" The earthquake from the blast above knocked him hard on his rear in the dark. All the dim lights went out down both ends of the dirt tunnel.
A hot breeze blew through as dirt shook loose from the ceiling.
He fumbled for his flashlight.
He found the business end of it in the dark and turned it on.
Lincoln screamed like a girl and jumped back two feet into the dirt. The flashlight fell in the dirt between them.
Fuck, she's hot.
"I guess it's just you and me, Lincoln." She crawled seductively toward him like a prowling cat, barring her cleavage swinging beneath her in his full view like an executioner swinging her double axe.
Lincoln tossed her a grenade.
That was stupid.
She shook her head, waving her finger before her face at him in the dim flashlight's glare.
She scraped the grenade from the sand, and rose to her knees before him in the gloom..
She pulled the pin while he watched transfixed and snuggled the grenade deep inside her cleavage.
"Oh, Lincoln," she moaned. "You're so thoughtful."
Her breasts throbbed and grew before his eyes.
"For meee?" In moments the grenade was completely engulfed in the biggest breasts Lincoln had ever seen- and by a wide margin.
She squeaked like a mouse in a hiccup of pleasure as her breasts barely flopped from the explosion.
His jaw dropped as smoke curled from her cleavage.
"I just saved your stupid life, you know." She licked her lips as she leaned orward over his crotch. Hot shrapnel sprinkled on him from her cleavage as her monstrous breasts parted to hang like wrecking balls before his painfully erect penis.
"Fuck!" He whispered.
"Maybe later." She dropped on him. Her breasts on his pelvis felt like the twin bows of a cargo ship as they crushed his bones bloodily like garlic in a mortar. The door opened, and a heavy-set middle-aged man burst through, his head phone cord still trailing. "What the hell was that?" He demanded.
The figure under the wide-brimmed hat slid cowboy-booted legs from the table. Blue-glowing hands rose from the side of a sparking computer terminal. "You said it was open patch, anything goes, you three against me." A sultry voice drifted from the darkness beneath the hat.
"It's World War 3.0, not a comic book spoof, geek!" The large man brandished a video game box with the acclaimed title slathered across it in big red letters. "Any patch I want, you said." The figure stood up into a rough-hewn poncho. "Not super powers, man!" A skinny bearded head poked from the door.
"Yeah, it ruined the atmosphere, that spandex cheesecake bimbo of yours!" The bearded one bounced.
"Yeah, that shit ain't real!"
"And your A10-X does?" The stranger asked.
"Well, no." The bearded man scratched it. "But I've been working on the design.
"And 'Papa Smurf'?"
The skinny one in the doorframe shrugged. "He's the aviation flyboy. I'm just the redneck engineer."
"It could be built." The bearded man scowled. "But that spandex bitch is just your wet dream! She doesn't belong here!"
"Yeah, freak, there's a comic book store a mile down Devonshire. Go take your cheesy cheats to them, pervert!"
"You were the one who brought nukes to the table." The stranger stood unmoving.
"Those are real too. But you're freak hacks are only comic book fantasies!" The poncho was tossed over one shoulder.
"These are real too." She stood before them, beneath her hat in the same costume she ended the game with.
Video game vixens were one thing. They were safe behind glass. Flesh and blood...in person...
Awkward moments passed.
"Damn." The skinny one's jaw opened at the prolonged sight of her perfectly over-proportioned figure.
She wasn't human somehow.
"Nice costume." The bearded one caught his sarcasm firmly once again.
"Hollywood's ten miles down the road."
"Fuck, man!" Lincoln's balding head stumbled from around the corner. "We thought you were a dude!"
The other two cringed and shot him cold looks. "Is now a good time?" She winked back at him.
"Can you lift tanks like that?" Lincoln grinned stupidly. The other two tried to discretely wave Lincoln's mouth off.
Her cloak flapped about her in downdraft as her feet gently left the floor-and stayed gone.
The bearded man stumbled backwards, and tripped on a chair onto his rear before her.
"Child's play." She giggled-and wiggled.
God, that top is, can see through-she's tremendous!
Oh fuck! SHE'S REAL!
"I like you guys. You're silly." She smiled as she crossed her legs beneath her in mid-air. "And thank you for the play time." She stretched herself out over their heads. "Much cheaper than me out playing for real, and kinda fun."
"Now is good!" Lincoln salivated while the other's gaze followed her every move.
She drifted across the room and alighted on the floor next to him.
"I'll make you a deal, silly boy." She did a body wave that sent her nearly bare breasts brushing against him.
Lincoln collapsed into her grip as she caught him by the scruff of his collar and held him limply at arms length." You can all eat me..." She glanced about the room, admiring her handiwork. "If you can beat me."
She dropped Lincoln in a heap on the floor where the other two were.
She stepped over them wickedly as she swung her hips towards the door. "But you're going to need a little software upgrade. Those antiques you drive just don't do it for me." She bent over and scratched his beard while she tucked a CD into his shirt collar. "I'll give you a week to practice."
She swung through the game store door and out into the neon glow of the night store sign. "Better luck next time, boys."
She blew them a kiss-with such force that she slammed the door closed between them, shattering the glass across the floor as the wind from her kiss swirled papers about the place.
She gave Lincoln a wink as she waved her scantly clad voluptuous body before them in the neon glow.
She threw her fists behind her, thrust out her chest, braced her legs and gently levitated into the night sky while they watched.
Moments passed in breezy silence.
The bearded one pulled the CD out of his shirt."Intergalactic Conquest?" He read. "Shields, ion canons, and phasers oh my?"