[Prologue]
Quinn and Rose had a brainstorming session for new stories. The former police duo recalled the times when they had to arrest drunks during Founders Days, Outback's planetary holiday. The duo decided to incorporate some of their recollections into the first episode of the sixth season of Police Blue. The animated and ample Lynnae and June will again encounter another of Mr Big's nefarious schemes to inflate the bustlines of Outback's sheilas.
[Show introduction: Theme music plays. A fast-paced action sequence of the two main characters, Lynnae and June. Running, jumping, dodging, shooting, and rolling, showing off their physical prowess while their breasts bounce underneath their police shirts. Gawking criminals, mesmerized by these antics, are easily subdued and handcuffed. The duo then stood back-to-back and went into silhouette, showing their ample shapes. Cue in show and episode title.]
1
Hyatt Manor is located in the northeast corner of New Darwin. Nestled
in-between slight hills and patches of trees, the three-story house wore
a rustic look, complete with native Outback vines running along the window
sills. For the final touch, a genuine wood-burning fireplace with brick
chimney gave the manor a sense of warmth and security - something that
Mr Big, supercriminal, wanted for his meeting.
In the dining room, members of Big Crime Cabal Incorporated
(BCCI) took their seats and waited for Mr Big. The little man himself entered
the room. In his arms he carried his pet miniature dachshund, the 'cutie-little-precious'
Pumpkin. Albert brought up the rear, closing the doors.
"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," intoned Big as
he sat at the head of the table, "for attending this monthly financial
reports meeting. Before we begin with the reports, I have a special announcement
to make. Last week I secured the services of the Pearson and Whyatt Beerworks.
My new caper will involve the sale of two new products. Products that will
have desirable effects on the bustlines of all the women in this city."
Casper Lytes, an auto parts supplier turned bad,
snorted in disbelief. "What, just like you did to those female sailors
and marines? You said yourself that you used the last of the Nepalese breast-enlarging
potion on those women."
"I still have some of the original potion, but I'm
saving it," replied Big, eyes gleaming. "But I've concocted a substitute.
True, it is weaker and not as potent as the original, but," Big grinned,
"with some added properties, my two new drinks - Bubbles and Big Brew -
will gain untold numbers of customers. Thirsty female customers
who can never get enough of what my drinks can give them - desire and big
breasts!"
Casper snapped his fingers. "That's right up your
alley, Mr Big! When will you release those two drinks to the public, and
how?"
Big had a brief bout of laughing, coughing,
and hacking. "In two weeks! Founders Days is around the corner, and I want
to make the biggest impact to celebrate Outback's 300th birthday!"
New Darwin Police, Central Station. Captain Laramie briefed the first
shift. It promised to be a rather hot June day, and the gathered officers
were glad they're wearing short-sleeve shirts. The female officers also
wore the standard-issue microskirt. Lynnae Wilcox and June Parlor are among
the most endowed and shapely female officers in the department. The buxom
duo knew their abbreviated clothing often resulted in more arrests - male
criminals are easily distracted by tight shirts and naked legs.
"Okay people," Laramie announced, "in two weeks
Founders Days will start. Thanks to our calendar, Founders Days, all eleven
of them, are between June 30 and July 1. The number of tourists will skyrocket,
especially those from Earth." Some of Laramie's officers moaned. The social
climate of Earth was repressive and dull. Large breasts are considered
an aberration and nanite injections a sign of waste. Deprived Earthmen
had to go off-planet to see ample chests. Outback, with its much more relaxed
and 'natural' atmosphere, provided drooling breast-freaks all the mammaries
they wanted to stare at.
"But wait," said Laramie wickedly, "we mustn't forget
Civil Disturbance 101. The CD'ers will be out in force, dispensing their
'wisdom' to the slack-jawed gawkers from Earth. Break up any How to
Glom clinics you run into. Lyn and June, please try not to provoke
those poor souls from glomming you. Allow the other patrols the chance
to perform an arrest."
The squad room filled with light laughter. "Easy
for you to say, Captain," said Lyn. "These summer uniforms are expressly
designed to make man falter and women burn up with envy. I'm willing pay
a week's salary to see you wear this get-up."
Laramie grinned. "You should've been here 75 years
ago. Now, get out there, but be careful."
"We will, Captain," the first shift said as they
rose from their chairs.
The buxom duo didn't have a cruiser for today's
patrol. Their duty area is Monument Park, located in the heart of the city.
The park has a statue of the first colonists that landed on Outback in
2114. In addition to its size, the statue also served as a landmark and
gathering place for all kinds of people. At this time of year hordes of
young off-planet men gathered at the statue. Armed with binoculars and
other vision devices, these men take it upon themselves to view and gawk
at the lovely sheilas that are Outback women. It's Lyn and June's job to
make sure that looking and gawking are the only things that those men do.
Years ago, the Pearson and Whyatt Beerworks was the top seller of beer
in New Darwin. That changed when the company marketed a new drink at the
expense of its proven seller. P&W's claim to the market shrank to 10%.
Competitors, and former customers, derisively called P&W the Piss'n'Water
Beerworks. The P&W board of directors started a new campaign to rebuild
the company's image. Little did they know that their new cash came from
Mr Big. The company's president and CEO, both women, were firmly under
Big's hypnotic control, doing his bidding. Anything they can do to make
Big happy was worth the effort.
On the Beerworks bottling floor Big conducted a
tour for his BCCI buddies. "This is where the bottles receive a final inspection
before being filled with product. This line is for Big Brew." Big lifted
a passing bottle, admiring the glasswork. "As you know, the health inspectors
check the product and bottles separately. But here's the kicker. My revised
potion is applied to the inside of the bottle tops. Once the bottles are
filled and sealed, the potion is picked up by the product."
"How fast does it work?" inquired one of the men.
"Can you give us a demonstration?"
"Oh Yes!" said Big. "I've got a little surprize
for you. Come, let me show you Employee Lounge #4." Like a schoolteacher,
Big lead his eager followers to a small lounge on the bottling floor. Inside
the room was a gathering of female workers, taking sips from 12 and 24-ounce
bottles of Bubbles, Big's tainted lollywater beverage. To a woman, each
had a magnificent bust. The smallest woman had perky volleyballs, while
the largest girls could be mistaken for Angelicans. The P&W T-shirts
the workers had on were sorely tested by breasts that wanted room to grow.
Big cackled. "There's enough potion in each 12-ounce
can to give a girl an additional cup size. Double that for the 24-ounce
'mortershells'. Now for that demonstration! Deirdre, come over here."
A short, shapely woman with dark hair tied in a
bun stepped over to Big. Her bust was the smallest in the group, but shortly
the difference in sizes would change. "Yes, Mr Big?" Deirdre giggled.
Big handed the joyful woman a 24oz bottle. "Deirdre,
if you drink all of this without coming up for air I'll give you one hundred
credits!"
The little woman swiped the bottle from Big's hand,
wrenched off the bottle top, and proceeded to chug. The men started to
chant, encouraging Deirdre to suck down all the drink. "Chug it, chug it,
chug it..."
After what felt like an eternity Deirdre removed
the now-empty bottle and wiped her mouth. Then a wondrous thing happened.
Her perky volleyball-sized breasts expanded perceptively before everyone's
eyes. The growth was enough to make the T-shirt even more stressed, trying
it's best to squeeze the woman to death. If the tee had stitches they would've
torn open.
"Oh Boy!" Big beamed. "Deirdre, take off that T-shirt
before you suffocate! I want to measure your happy chest." The little woman
complied, though thanks to the camera angles the tri-dee audience only
had a view of Deirdre's back. She raised her arms, allowing the audience
to at least see the magnificent globes protruding past her ribcage. Big
applied a measuring tape to Deirdre's bust, making her giggle for a moment.
"It's still potent as ever! Last night, my fair lass, you were a 32I. Now,
you're a bit over 32K. I think you now rate the next size in T-shirts!"
"Oh, thank you Big!" Deirdre turned to embrace Big,
covering him in kisses. The other women turned jealous. They wanted to
kiss Big for giving them such a wonderful drink. For nearly 5 minutes Big
did nothing but kiss and glom each woman that came within reach.
2
The historical center of New Darwin served as a gathering place for
painters, pantomime performers, lovers... and perverts. The gang known
as Civil Disturbance 101 (CD 101) held an impromptu clinic on 'how to glom'.
It's a week before Founders Days, and an early contingent of breast-obsessed
Earthmen had arrived. Thanks to their underground network, these men knew
where to find the CD'ers. So did the cops.
Lynnae and June were on foot patrol in Monument
Park. There are quite a few secluded clearings in the park, tall streamer
trees providing barriers to vision but not to sound. Like cats, the buxom
duo sneaked up to one particular clearing. To their satisfaction they found
a group of middle-aged men, each one wearing dorky-looking caps with attached
beer carriers. Six men wore white T-shirts emblazoned with red lettering
that spelled CD 101. The leader, who could easily be a bank manager, belched,
drawing some laughter. He cleared his throat with some lager.
"Afternoon, gents," the loud man said. "You have
traveled 20 light-years to see - and experience - the ampleness that is
Outback. On the beaches and parks of this world you will have the opportunity
to glom to your heart's content. But don't blame us if your hands end up
as claws! To prevent possible hand injury, me and my associates will demonstrate
the proper procedure to glom a breast. Tiffany, Sue! Come on out and show
these men your heavenly bodies."
Two women stepped forward, dropping towels to reveal
their bikini-clad forms. The visiting Earthmen hooted in approval. The
CD Leader smiled. "The short one is Sue. At 163cm and 32D Sue is the typical
Outback Sheila." Sue did a curtsy and jiggled, making her lovely chest
shimmy with delight. The men did some more hooting. "Tiffany, on the other
hand, is the typical girl who gets nanite augmentation. At 178cm and 36R
Tiffany is a mighty challenge to glom. We'll show you how to effectively
glom these two typical breast sizes."
"Not so fast, Simon Bar Sinister!" Lyn and June
stepped out of the foliage. June held her police whistle at the ready.
"You CD'ers are all under arrest."
"What for, officer?" The Leader said, looking nervous.
He tried to hide the bikini women behind him, but Tiffany's breasts mashed
up against his back, making the Leader blush beet-red.
June critically looked at the man. "You and your
friends are in violation of the Criminal Code, Section 2, Paragraph B.
You're inciting people to commit a misdemeanor." She turned her basilisk
gaze at the Earthers. "If you must know, the penalty for glomming is 100
credits and one day in jail. Unless you want to spend your whole vacation
in a jail cell, I suggest that all of you swear that you won't glom. Understand?"
"Wait a minute," said an Earthman, "aren't you June
Parlor? And isn't that your partner, Lynnae Wilcox?"
"What's it to you, buddy? You better not hope to
glom me. If you are, then it will be your last conscious act ever."
All the Earthmen got on their knees, bowing towards
the officers. "We've been bad boys, officers," the Earthman said. "Arrest
us, because we're not worthy!"
"We're not worthy! We're not worthy! We're not worthy,"
the other men chanted. "We're scum, we're worms!"
Lyn and June actually felt embarrassed. There are
indeed some men in the city that committed crimes, all in the hope of being
arrest by the buxom duo. Those men yearned to feel the duo's breasts press
into their backs while being man-handled into awaiting police cruisers.
It's rather irksome at times. Lyn looked away, finding the CD'ers sneaking
off. "Not so fast! Halt in the name of the Law!"
The pursuit was short and to the point. Other patrols
had converged on the clearing, intercepting five of the CD'ers and the
bikini women. June chased the leader and had to tackle him in a flying
leap. She slapped the cuffs on him, reading his rights. She stood up, wiping
sweat from her brow.
GLOM! A mime had witnessed the arrest. He, too,
had the desire to glom ample breasts. He figured that he would never have
a better opportunity to do it. June turned on the man with the painted
face. The mine tried to indicate that it was all in good fun, pretending
he was feeling up a pair of melons. June reached for her nightstick. The
memory plastic transformed at her touch, turning into the reliable, centuries-old
design that served police officers so well. With less force than it actually
appeared, June bonked the mime in the head, rendering him unconscious.
"I HATE MIMES!" June proclaimed.
Captain Laramie looked across her desk at June. The little incident
with the mime reached the news nets. Cries of 'overreaction' and 'police
brutality' were bleated by bleeding-heart newsies. With Founders Days just
around the corner the last thing the Police needed was a bad rap in the
press. It's Laramie's job to decide an appropriate punishment for June.
"June," said the Captain, looking every bit the
authoritarian matriarch, "you had to bonk that mime on the head. Don't
you realize that some of the higher-ups are waiting for any excuse to kick
you and Lyn off the force? The Pernlow Case created many enemies for you
two. I hope you're thankful that you have me and Chief Talbert looking
out after you."
"I am, ma'am," June said professionally.
"You still have to be reprimanded, but this can
be reflected by special service instead of a write-up in your permanent
record. Interested?"
"Yes, ma'am," said the stoic officer.
"Cut the cadet crap, Parlor. If I wanted to rip
you a new one, then I would've done it the instant you entered the office.
Comprende?"
June smiled. "Sure, Cap'n."
"Better. Now, what do I have on the assignment roster?"
Laramie thumbed through several entries. "Ah. How about for the next three
weeks you work third shift?"
"Third shift, in that time frame?" June looked despondent.
"I'm guaranteed to pick up at least five drunks a night. The cruiser is
going to smell like puke and bile."
"Would you rather work with Lt Harkin in the Archives?"
"Heck no, Cap'n."
"There," Laramie grinned, "that wasn't so hard to
decide. I hope Lyn is as understanding as I am when you tell her about
third shift."
"I hope it was worth it," Lyn snorted, looking out the cruiser's windshield
at the New Darwin night scene. "Beating up mimes must be a favorite pastime
of yours."
"I just don't like them," said an exasperated June.
"There's something about them that causes a violent reaction in me."
"Then pray that we don't get dispatched to break-up
a pantomime brawl." Lyn gladly took June's rueful glare. "Hey, you can
at least admit that was funny."
"Funny-funny har-har. Let's have some real fun,
making drunks vomit their haggis." June vented steam. For the last two
days the duo picked up six drunks - all them tourists from Earth. Outback
beer proved too much for their constitutions. During the arrest procedure
the drunks emptied the contents of their tummies, often on Lyn and June's
patrol shoes.
The radio crackled to life. The dispatcher was none
other than Amber MacRoy, the duo's friend. Nicknamed Mother, Amber's clear
and commanding voice got the duo's attention. "Charlie 9, we have a
10-53 (disorderly conduct) at 170th Avenue and Bristol. Jackspurt Bar and
Grill. Restore order and apprehend troublemakers. Over."
"Charlie 9 to Dispatch. We're 10-17 (proceeding)
to the 53. 10-4." Lyn secured the mic and checked her gloves... and her
spare gloves. Drunks also have the disgusting habit of vomiting on police
officers' hands.
Three minutes later the police cruiser pulled into
the parking lot of the Jackspurt Bar and Grill. Set to a western
theme, the Grill offers finely cooked steak and jackalope ribs.
Only strong beer, that is to say Outback beer, was served there. That explained
the high number of drunk tourists that originated from the establishment.
The owner, Duke Cerone, greeted the two officers. "I'm
glad you're here. Four women arrived earlier this evening. They had too
much to drink and started to act crazy. Come see for yourselves."
Lyn looked mystified. "Duke, what about your bouncers?"
"That's the thing, Officer Wilcox. The women somehow
got my bouncers drunk and seduced them!" Duke ushered in the cops. The
center of the establishment held an elevated stage. The four drunk women
were on the stage instead of the regular western band. Wearing abbreviated
shorts and tight tees, the women danced a can-can. Legs were kicked high
and chests shimmied, drawing hoots and hollers from the audience.
Arms akimbo, Lyn stepped forward into the lights.
"What's all this then? Explain yourselves."
A short dark-haired woman, legs woozy from drink,
leered at the officer. "Hi, Ossifer. Me and my friends (burp) are
performing a magic show!"
Lyn decided to humor the drunk. "What kind of magic?
I don't see any cards or wands."
"Liquid magic (belch)!" The crowd laughed. In front
of the women were the two suborned bouncers. They handed the impromptu
magicians 24oz bottles of beer commonly referred to as mortershells. "Watch,
Ossifer,
as we turn these full bottles into empty ones (hick)!" In unlikely synchronization,
the women opened the bottles and proceeded to chug. The audience chanted
encouragement; some people actually threw money at the stage.
Lyn and June prepped their stunners, setting them
to minimal discharge. Any higher setting can make drunk people lose all
bowel control. The women finished their chug-a-lug, gasping for air and
belching more-or-less at the same time. Lyn and June were just about to
announce the arrest procedure when they witnessed an extraordinary event.
Thanks to the women's tight T-shirts, the officers saw four pairs of breasts
grow perceptively larger. Shirt material was pulled apart and made taunt.
Two overstressed T-shirts lost their fight. Lyn gasped when the tees ripped
open quite audibly, exposing succulent cleavage. Men in the audience yelled
out appreciative metaphors such as 'I like to tend that melon patch' and
'what fine slopes for skiing'.
"That's enough of that," June barked at the audience.
She then turned on the bouncers. "Okay, boys, you can make this easy or
hard. Back off."
"I don't take orders from piggies (hick)," said
one bouncer, lecherously eyeing June's shirt. "You must be'a sweatin' lika
a pig wearing a tight shirt like that (burp). Here, lemme help ya outta
it." In a moment the bouncer's universe was reduced to a handful of falling
stars.
3
Laramie turned off the file pad, her gaze fixed upon the two officers
mentioned in the morning edition of the New Darwin Tribune. "I suppose
I should be thankful that the story was buried way back on page 56. June,
if you should break another man's nose during the next two weeks then you
will
work in the Archives with Larry Lecher."
"Don't you mean Lt Harkin?"
"Rather early in the morning to act smart. Isn't
it, June?" Laramie snapped. Officer Parlor looked a bit brow-beaten. "I'm
sorry I said that, June. God knows, that bouncer had it coming, but you
had to use your nightstick instead of the stunner. This isn't 21st-Century
London. Comprende?"
"I hear you, Captain."
Laramie allowed herself a grin. "Better. Now, lets
look at what we gathered from the women you arrested." The Captain activated
a wall panel. She stood up, light-pointer in hand, highlighting sections
of the projected police report. "All four women are college students, working
summer jobs at the P&W Beerworks. This is their first entry on their
police records. All of them have above-average grades and, as far as we
know, this was the first time they had beer. Plus, there are those other
interesting facts about them."
Lynnae nodded. "Yes, Captain. According to their
own employment records, the women were of average bust-size only two weeks
ago. P&W's medical coverage doesn't include nanite expansion since
it's considered 'cosmetic' surgery. The women's finances are those of typical
college students, and they just started working at the Beerworks only last
month. That can only mean one thing."
"I agree, though Dr Sung will give us a definite
answer later today." Laramie switched off her light pointer. "Mr Big has
come through again on his never-ending quest for bigger breasts. If he
has concocted a breast potion, we need to stop him before he distributes
it to the population."
June had in her lap one of the now-empty beer bottles
that the women drank from last night. She read the labeling critically.
"This is definitely Mr Big's work. Who else would come up with a phrase
like 'only a bottle this big can contain a taste so expansive'." She snorted.
"Even a three-year-old can come up with a better name. Big Brew?
Give me a break!"
"He's stuck in his ways, June." Laramie sat back
down at her desk. "I've sent two detectives to the Beerworks. In the past
the Beerworks had some trouble with student employees. My detectives will
review the company's policy on hiring college students, but they'll also
keep a look-out for anything suspicious. Knowing Big, I think we'll find
something."
Mid-afternoon the same day. On the roof of the Beerworks' bottle-making
building there's a pool. It's a typical 12-by-8 meter pool, but the four
bikini-clad women around it were not typical. The women are the same ones
that were arrested last night at Jackspurt. On the orders of Laramie,
the group was released. Since it was the women's first offense, the Captain
figured that a single night in the drunk tank would make the women think
twice before getting drunk again.
Another person was determined not to see his lovelies
get thrown into a drunk tank a second time. Mr Big, wearing Bermuda shorts
and a yellow T-shirt, stepped out onto the roof, walking towards the pool.
"Alright, you fillies, line up! I want to talk to you."
The girls jiggled together, their bikini-tops maintaining
their perilous perch on the breasts. Big looked at the girls critically.
"Not only did you girls get drunk and arrested, you made the Police send
a pair of detectives to sniff around the Beerworks, asking questions. And
I don't like cops."
"We're sorry, Mr Big," said Deirdre. The little
woman's bust was now a very capable 32Q. Only the front for her wonderful
lungs, the size of overinflated basketballs, were covered by the bikini
material. "Me and the girls just wanted to have fun. Besides, you didn't
give us any of that Big Brew to drink."
"And for good reason. It's potent stuff. Your livers
aren't up to task of processing such a fine brew." Big tapped his left
foot. "Worse yet, you took those bottles without asking. Employee pilferage
is not allowed. That's sufficient grounds to fire you."
"Please, don't do that, Mr Big," said Laura, one
of the other girls. "We'll behave. We need these jobs to help pay for our
college tuition. Please don't fire us. Pretty please?" All four women used
pleading, puppy-dog eyes, resting their laced hands on top of their overample
chests.
Big didn't had the heart to fire such bountiful
babes. He just wanted to put the scare into them. Smiling, he raised his
hands in surrender. "Okay, I won't fire you girls. But no-more pilferage,
and you can't have anymore Bubbles and Big Brew. You're big enough already."
"Can't we have just one more can? Please?" said
Deirdre, her eyes large and dewy.
Sighing, Big opened the small cooler he had with
him, giving a 12oz can of Bubbles to each of the girls. In a minute they
downed every last drop of the wondrous beverage. Big swore he heard the
bikini fabric being stretched. Since they drank from 12oz cans, the girls
only gained a single cup size each. Deirdre now sported a 127cm (32R) front
on a 158cm tall body, while Laura's bikini strings dug into her 140cm (34U)
breasts. The girls caressed the naked sides of their breasts, making Big
a bit anxious. "Very pretty I must say," said Big joyfully. "How about
removing those obviously too-small bikini tops? You need to tan those pale
boobies."
The scene ended with a shot set against the sky.
Four string bikini tops flew into the air, accompanied by the sound of
girlish laughter and giggles.
4
Dr Sung's Lab. The wise but wily doctor completed his study on the beer
residue. Chief Talbert, Laramie, Lyn and June had gathered in the lab,
only waiting for the doctor to finish his daily fruit drink.
"That hits the spot," said Sung, placing the now
empty glass on his desk. "What I found in the beer certainly hits another
spot. I found traces of a substance similar to the Nepalese breast-enlarging
potion. Obviously not as potent as the original, but just as insidious."
Talbert grunted. "How so, Doc?"
"Big included some addictive qualities to his 'brew'.
The taste of this drink is such that a person is compelled to finish it
all in one draw. Big did this to insure that the potion is ingested 100%
of the time."
"That's him all right," Lyn said firmly. "Can the
effects of this potion be reversed?"
"I believe so. Since this is a weaker version of
the potion that affected those poor sailors and marines, nanites should
be able to reduce the breasts. Regardless, we need to prevent Big from
carrying out further applications of his new potion."
June looked worried. "You mean that this potion,
though weaker, is more resilient than the original? Can it be used in other
products?"
Sung nodded knowingly. "Yes. He probably choose
beer because of the upcoming Founders Days holiday. There'll be hundreds
of thousands of women that'll be victims to his perversion. Why stop with
beer? Roll-on deodorant, nail polish, lip stick, toothpaste - the list
is endless."
"At least we know where he's been," Laramie chimed
in. "My detectives found nothing irregular regarding the Beerwork's records,
but all the female workers between the ages of 18 and 30 have considerable
breasts where they had none before just two weeks ago. Those women are
not in a position to buy a 2,000 credit nanite injection."
Talbert snapped his fingers. "Then it's decided.
Laramie, have your detectives find out when and where P&W will distribute
this Big Beer product. It's likely they'll market a lollywater drink that's
similarly tainted, so watch out for that too. The Founders Days Celebration
at the Fairgrounds will be Big's obvious target. We'll shut him down before
he can deliver the goods."
"We have to get him without making him suspicious,
Chief," Lyn cautioned. "Big can smell bacon a kilometer away."
"Hey, who took my bacon?" Big demanded. The BCCI people at the dinner
table denied all knowledge on the theft of Big's extra-large bacon strips.
The little man looked under the table, finding Pumpkin wolfing down his
bacon strips. "You rat!" Big scowled, retrieving the naughty dog. "You're
spoiling your appetite. I was going to feed you steak for dinner."
Pumpkin didn't care, finishing off the last bacon
strip it held in its paws. Big sighed, settling the thieving ratdog on
his lap. "Gentlemen," he said formally, "In three days our two fabulous
products will be on sale at the Fairgrounds. With eye-catching design schemes
set for their target audience, my drinks will fill up the shirt fabric!
With two vending machines at each major concession area, our coverage will
be complete!"
One BCCI member, Louis Lipsom, looked uneasy, teasing
the collar of his jacket. "Ummmm... Big, about the concession areas. I
was late in getting our bid in, and...."
"And what, Louis?" Big asked menacingly.
Louis gulped. "I was only able to land one spot
per major concession area for our machines, but," he added hopefully, "those
machines can be type 2's, the ones that hold the 24oz bottles."
"You... You moron!" Big cursed. "What
were you doing? Watching Parliament House re-runs on the tri-dee? I wanted
two
machines per concession area! Two! We could've covered both ends of the
spectrum - one machine of 12oz, the other 24oz. Now we have to use other
means to dispense my products. Casper, can we use your display as an additional
concession area?"
The auto-parts supplier smiled. "Absolutely! Large
Marge will use only a fraction of the display area. Plus, there's a bonus.
The western band I hired will play the first night. A big crowd is guaranteed.
A big, thirsty, crowd."
"Excellent, Casper! You'll get Louis' share for
saving the day. As for you, Louis," said Big scornfully, "there's
only one punishment for a failure like yours."
"But, Mr Big," Louis pleaded, "I... Noooooo!" Louis'
chair tipped over backwards, dumping him into a pit filled with concentrated
Bubbles ingredients. The impromptu acid bath ate away flesh and bone, leaving
no trace of the crooked encyclopedia salesman.
Big pressed a switch, sealing up the acid pit. His
eyes burned holes into the souls of the remaining BCCI people. "Let that
be a reminder that I do not tolerate failure."
It's Lyn's turn to be depressed. The sky was at dusk, rapidly changing
into night. Lyn gazed forlornly at the storefronts that past by the cruiser's
window. She sighed. "Here we are, just three days away from the start of
Founders Days, expressly forbidden to go near the Piss'n'Water Beerworks.
Are the high muckity-mucks afraid that we can capture Big single-handedly?"
"They're afraid the public will demand that we get
promoted," said June in support. "Talbert and Laramie have used all their
favors just to keep us in the force. It'll take someone with considerable
political clout to override the promotions board."
Lyn grinned. "Mr Big, perhaps?"
"Good! You're still able to make bad jokes. You're
not so depressed after all."
"It's just as well." Lyn unconsciously touched her
nightstick. "Look at that." She pointed to a section of sidewalk. An ample
young woman, with breasts as big as oversized basketballs, was being harassed
by a trio of men. Outback has its share of perverts too. These men looked
as if they wanted to do more than just glom the woman's breasts.
June activated the rollers (police lights), easing
the cruiser up to the curb. The woman, apparently a college student, gratefully
approached the police car. The buxom duo exited the cruiser with practiced
grace, denying a gratuitous panty shot for the viewers at home. "What's
all this then?" Lyn's flashlight played on the men's faces. June's light
settled on the woman's anxious eyes.
"I was just minding my business, walking home from
work," said the woman, "and these creeps started following me."
"Hey, officers," said one of the men, "have I seen
your faces' before?"
"Oh, God," June moaned, "not again."
"Jeepers! They're those two Bronzes (police officers)!"
The trio instantly knelt down, bowing in supplication. "Arrest us! Arrest
us!"
"Why?" Lyn asked critically. She turned to the woman.
"Ma'am, were these men harassing you?"
"Yes, yes we were!" One man quickly said. "We had
the intent to glom that woman's norks (breasts). Arrest us, oh ample symbols
of Law and Order!"
June took her light off the kneeling men. "We will
do no such thing. Public annoyance is not a crime. You didn't touch this
woman, have you?"
"No, officer. But we unworthy men must be arrested."
"We're scum! We're worms!" said the other two perverts.
"Get outta here before you annoy me," said
Lyn
in her command voice.
The trio got up. "No-can do, officer. You've compelled
us to do this," they said as one. With unnatural speed, the perverts proceeded
to glom. Exaggerated sweatbeads adorned the foreheads of the women. Not
wasting time, the buxom duo produced miniature cans of mace, spraying the
men in the face mercilessly. The glommers fell to the ground and performed
the dead bug drill, legs and arms flailing in the air. Undoubtedly, they
were enjoying themselves, much to the consternation of Lynnae and June.
The young woman sighed, relaxing her protective
hold over her bust. She grimaced when two 24oz bottles fell from their
secured hold in her cleavage. The bottles made quite audible clinks when
they hit the ground. June picked up one of the bottles and shone a light
on it. Her face showed her surprize when she saw the label. The light was
then placed on the woman's face. "Hey, I know you. You're the girl we arrested
at Jackspurt."
"That I am, officer," said the apprehensive girl.
"I'm Deirdre Kemp."
June scowled, turning to Lyn. "Hey, once you secured
those creeps, call for back-up to haul them away. We got Deirdre Kemp here,
and she has more of those Big Brew bottles." With a predatory grin, June
faced down Deirdre, making the short woman feel even shorter. "Deirdre,
can you prove to me that you bought these beers?"
5
Thirty minutes later the buxom duo was inside Deirdre's apartment. They
called in Captain Laramie as instructed, telling her about Deirdre and
the beers. The short woman herself sat in her favorite easy chair, looking
miserable.
Laramie eyed the purloined beer bottles and Deirdre
with the same level of attention. "Deirdre, how long has Mr Big been at
the Beerworks? When did you first see him?"
Deirdre acted like a scared child in a principles'
office. "About four weeks. The CEO gave him a tour of the bottling floor.
I must've caught his eye. He started to talk to me, and I felt..." she
broke down in a fit of sobbing. "Oh God, and to think that pervert actually
glommed
me! What power does he have over women?"
Lyn got by Deirdre's side and placed a consoling
hand on her shoulder. "You couldn't have know, dear. Big has a devilish
effect on most women. He made you feel happy and joyous whenever he's around,
right?"
Deirdre stifled her sobs, wiping away tears. "That
bastard, giving me and my friends those drinks. I couldn't go on without
having the taste of lollywater and beer in my mouth! On the bottling floor
I swiped two Big Brews from the conveyor belt and hid them between my breasts!
Oh God, my breasts!" Deirdre patted the sides of her T-shirt-draped breasts,
thankful that she wore the largest size available. "How am I going to explain
this? I'm a freak!"
"You're not a freak, Miss Kemp." Laramie went to
Deirdre, holding her hand in a sincere expression of solidarity. "Mr Big
takes delight in making women nothing more that a walking jigglefest. It
was your need for this beer that weakened Big's control over you. Some
women are never freed from that little man's will. Fortunately for us,
you're in a position to help not only the Police, but every woman in the
city as well."
Deirdre teased the collar of her T-shirt.
"How can I? I'm just a silly girl with big lungs."
Laramie shook her head. "Wrong. From what you told
us, Big considers you one of his top girls at the Beerworks. He tends to
let his guard down around his 'women'. Since we can't use listening bugs
anywhere near him, can we rely on your memory?"
"You want me to spy for you?" Deirdre asked incredulously.
"What if he finds out?"
"There's always the risk, dear," consoled the police
captain. "He might make you drink so much Big Brew that you'll become a
pillow woman. I can only offer my personal pledge that if he does such
a thing to you, I'll make sure he's handcuffed by his johnson. However,
if you help us prevent Big's nefarious scheme, I'll see to it that you
and your friends are restored to the sizes you prefer."
Standing up, Deirdre tugged down on her T-shirt,
making her wonderfully firm 127cm bust stand out. "Your word, Captain?"
"My word," said Laramie.
"Okay, I'll try to remember what he talks about
when he's around 'us girls'. I hope I can still act convincingly around
him, since I now know what he is."
Laramie gave the short woman a brief hug. "Don't
you fret. The angels in blue will look after you."
Two days before Founders Days had Mr Big, Albert, and a quartet of Beerworks
beauties lounging around Lytes' display area at the Fairgrounds. Depending
on the person you ask, the Fairgrounds are either located southeast of
New Darwin or on the northeast corner of the Bass Sea. It's just a matter
of semantics.
Big rested in a foldable lounge chair. Decked out
in a Founders Days T-shirt, Bermuda shorts, and sunnies, Big looked like
an overactive grandpa. "Albert! This is the life! Pass me another wine
cooler!"
"As you wish, Mr Big," Albert replied, handing the
drink to his boss. "Everything is going just as you planned."
Big wiped his mouth after taking a long swig. "Yes,
about the plan. I need to read the itinerary. You have the file?"
Ever efficient, Albert handed a file pad to Big.
"The production of Bubbles and Big Brew is ahead of schedule. The delivery
list has been updated to reflect this.
Nearby, Deirdre heard what Albert said. Her innate
nervousness was held in check by what she knew of Mr Big. Whatever she
could do to frustrate the little pervert's plans was acceptable to her,
especially what she's about to do. Slinking over, Deirdre stood over Big.
"Biggy, you promised to referee a game of volleyball for us," she said
anxiously. "Work can be done later."
"Soon, you filly, soon." Big read the file pad intently.
Pouting outside, Deirdre inside resigned herself
to follow through on her plan. Lifting her immense T-shirt clad bust, Deirdre
then planted her ample charms on top of Big's head (NB). The crime lord's
head almost disappeared between the fabric-clad mammaries.
"You better say yes!" Deirdre demanded, pushing
in her breasts. The underside of her lovely breasts peeked from the bottom
of the tee (NB).
"I can't hear you," Big replied in a muffled voice.
"It's kinda dark in here!"
While Big enjoyed the inadvertent blackout, Deirdre
peered over Big's shoulder to read the file pad. By luck, the current page
had the delivery schedule. Deirdre committed the information to memory.
She then released Big from the captivity of her impromptu prison.
"I almost ran out of air!" Working the feeling back
into his cheeks, Big got up and looked mischievously at Deirdre. "Okay,
my honey-bunny, you win. You and the rest of the girls get changed into
those front-piece swimsuits I brought. Such cute bottoms deserve to be
seen as well as those norks!"
The girls giggled, making for a nearby tent to change
clothes. Deirdre had to wait until evening to pass the information on to
Laramie. Big made the girls play four complete games followed by a mutual
shower and a long soak in a hottub. Free from his control, Deirdre managed
not to gag when she saw Big naked. She wondered how such a decrepit old
man managed to live as long with a body like his.
Central Station. In Laramie's office a plan to stop the delivery of
Bubbles and Big Brew was in the works. In conjunction with the SWAT commander,
Laramie instructed her detectives and officers to be wary of any tricks
that Mr Big might have in store. When it came to assign officers to specific
duties the door to the office opened. In stepped Police Commissioner Kilroy
Haite, tall and unemotive as ever. All eyes were planted on the man.
"Please continue, Captain," said Haite, "I've business
that can be handled after your briefing."
What's he up to now? wondered Laramie. She
found out three minutes later when the briefing was completed, the office
empty of people except her and her unexpected guest. "So, Mr Haite, what
business brings you here tonight?"
Haite snorted, setting his bones on a well-worn
chair. "You had to ask that? You know perfectly well what it is. I've read
the copy of your plan you sent me. Imagine my surprize when I found that
you've included Officers Wilcox and Parlor in the teams that will enter
the Beerworks to find and apprehend Mr Big."
"Yes. Those two officers have demonstrated time
and again that Big is particularly vulnerable to their attacks."
"And," Haite added, "it is while attacking Big that
the Buxom Duo cause the most damage and injury. We can't afford that now,
Captain Laramie."
Laramie disagreed. "Commissioner, if Wilcox and
Parlor hadn't been around when Big did his capers, then the mayhem caused
by that midget pervert would've been worse. I need them for this case."
"You'll have to do without them, Captain."
Haite stood up. "As you know, some city council members are still eager
to fire Wilcox and Parlor for their conduct during the Pernlow Case. If
they screw up this time, there will be repercussions."
Face set hard, Laramie looked at her superior. "Then
me and Chief Talbert will just have to remind those council members
of their agreement."
Haite's thin smile barely turned up at the corners.
"They thought of that, Captain. Remember, the final approval of all promotions
above your rank and position is in my hands. Unless you want to stay a
Captain forever, moving from department to department, I suggest you comply
with my request."
Bastard! Laramie thought venomously. He
knows that I desire to become station chief someday, even commissioner.
So it all comes down to this: I can follow through on my threat and bring
down half of the city council, ruining my career and Wilcox and Parlor's
as well. Or I can play it safe and follow orders. But at least those two
officers will remain on the force.
Still maintaining her look, Laramie held Haite's
attention. "You have my word that Wilcox and Parlor won't be anywhere near
the Beerworks tomorrow morning, Hate," she said, deliberately mangling
the Commissioner's last name. "I'm only doing this because I believe in
Wilcox and Parlor. They will endure and prevail over the people that seek
to remove them."
With a smile fit for a gargoyle, Haite stood up.
"You're still a naive woman, Laramie. You can't advance further in this
job unless you play by the little black book."
"Perhaps it isn't worth becoming a commissioner
if it means sacrificing honor and integrity. Now, get out of my office
before you say something you'll regret, Hate."
Though his task was complete, Haite nevertheless
was stung by Laramie's barb. It's a dangerous game of brinkmanship that
he's engaged in with Laramie and the vengeful council members. Haite wanted
nothing more than to be present when his collective enemies are destroyed,
leaving him in a position to run for the office of Mayor unhindered. With
help from his secret supporter, Haite had only to count the days before
he can sit behind the big desk in the Mayor's Mansion.
6
4 a.m. At the P&W Beerworks the pre-dawn preparations were completed.
A fleet of air lorries, filled with cans and bottles of Bubbles and Big
Brew, waited only for the word of one man to proceed. That man, Mr Big,
looked out upon the assembled vehicles from the upper level managers office.
Behind him stood Albert, working on a minicomp. Deirdre and her friends,
including the P&W President and CEO, were there as well, playing a
game of strip poker. Thankfully, the audience saw that the ample women
still had on their panties and T-shirts, but one can always dream (grin).
Grunting, Big turned to his faithful assistant.
"It's time, Albert. Let's get going."
"Certainly, Mr Big. But you still didn't decide
what to do about that one problem."
"Ah," said Big, "you're right, Albert. I have to
follow through on procedure. Deirdre, come here for a moment."
A bit apprehensive on the inside, Deirdre stood
up, wearing her innocent face. Bouncing on her toes (JF), the little woman
stood next to her 'man'. She pressed her warm tee-clad bust into Big's
side. "What do you have for me, Biggy-Wiggy?"
Big grinned. "Yes, an appropriate phrase, for I
do
have something for you. Girls!" In a flash the other women got next to
Deirdre, holding her firmly by the arms.
"What's this all about, Biggy?" Deirdre's apprehension
came to the surface, her smile undone.
"Don't play me the fool, girl." Big's grin had more
vindictiveness than playfulness. "The Bronze have discovered my wonderful
plan too soon. There was only one time where the pertinent information
could've been lifted. When you did your best to smother me, you read the
file pad I had in my hand. However, thanks to my contacts, I learned of
the police raid that will occur here shortly." Big softly held Deirdre's
chin. "Pity. I'd so much wanted to see all of my product consumed by the
women at the Fairgrounds. I'll just try something else next time."
Deirdre tried to pull away from Big, her face set
in disgust. "You'll get what's coming to you, pervert. The Police will
get you."
Big laughed, coughed, and hacked. "Unlikely, Deirdre.
No regular Police pukes can catch me, and Wilcox and Parlor are not a part
of the upcoming raid." Eyes gleaming with delight, Big focused on the other
girls. "Okay, my most beautiful bunch of shower sheilas, you said you wanted
more Big Brew. Well, I can now grant that request." Big reached into his
vest pocket. He retrieved a key and gave it to Laura. "Laura, you and the
girls take Deirdre here to my private office. That key will open the beer
cabinet. Drink as much as you want, but make sure Deirdre gets more than
her fill."
"You bastard!" Deirdre seethed. "I should've suffocated
you when I had the chance!"
"Impossible, Deirdre. Good old Houdini learned his
tricks from me! Albert! To the Bigmobile!"
"As you command," said the laconic Albert.
Laura and the girls made for the bottling floor,
man-handling poor Deirdre all the way. The group entered Big's small office.
Eagerly, Laura opened the beer cabinet, handing out bottles quickly. Deirdre
was held down on a desktop, her friends oblivious to her pleas. Bottles
opened, the girls chugged down their first beers. In moments their T-shirts
got a bit tighter. Then the next round of rapid drinking came. Breasts
got bigger while T-shirts became more restrictive. It became hard to move
about in the little room with so many norks growing at the same time.
Mouth forced open, bottle after bottle of Big Brew
was emptied into Deirdre. Despite herself, the little woman succumbed to
the beer's addictive taste. She wanted more. Her friends at this
point were plastered, drinking as fast as they could, uncaring that their
T-shirts
have long since been rendered useless. The tri-dee audience didn't see
this (the T14 rating had to be maintained, after all), but they heard the
audible ripping of fabric nonetheless. Her own tee now tested to the limit,
Deirdre staggered to the beer cabinet. She grabbed a bottle, undid the
top, and drank greedily of the contents. The scene ended when her breathing
caused her T-shirt to be torn asunder, allowing her norks more room to
grow.
Right on schedule, the Police intercepted the P&W air lorries. The
entrances to the Beerworks were sealed and teams of police officers sent
in. One of the teams was composed of just two officers and a special volunteer.
Officers Nadia Junker and Zachary Vandecreek made their way along the bottling
floor, alert for any suspicious movement. The duo came to a halt when they
reached a series of doors along a wall. Nadia undid the top three buttons
of her copious shirt, allowing the head of Smudge, her pet miniature dachshund,
to poke out of her ample cleavage.
Nadia retrieved Smudge from his impromptu carriage,
setting the overdeveloped rat on the floor. "Okay, boy," she said exuberantly,
"go and sniff him out."
Smudge looked indifferent, sitting on his haunches.
"Smudge," Nadia implored, "go find that smelly little man. Get Big." Smudge
still acted bored. He tried to get back in-between Nadia's basketball-breasts,
but the tall woman easily pushed aside the mischievous rat. "Not yet, you
rat. If you find Big, I'll give you a treat."
Upon hearing the word 'treat' Smudge got excited.
Tail a-waggin, Smudge used his pouting eyes on Nadia. "Get Big first, then
treat. Okay? Find Big," Nadia commanded.
Whining in anticipation, Smudge used his nose and
proceeded to sniff. At the fifth door Smudge came to a halt, his forepaws
raised and planted on the door. His tail wagged with enough force to tip
over a tank.
Nadia and Zach primed their stunners. With her right
hand, Nadia activated her collar-comm. "Bravo Charlie 3 to Bravo Command,"
she said in a whisper, "we have found Big. Send assistance to Office 5
on the bottling floor."
"Proceed, Bravo Charlie 3. Units converging on your
location."
Zach, as always, took the risk of opening the door
and threw himself inside. Smudge and Nadia sprang in after him. What the
trio saw made them produce oversized sweatbeads on their heads. With a
mixture of consternation and embarrassment, Zach made a call on his collar-comm.
Big wasn't in the room. Indeed, there literally wasn't any 'room' for him
to hide in. What's needed now were blankets - lots and lots of big police
blankets to cover the overinflated women that took up most of the space
in the small office.
The buxom duo was currently patrolling the eastern city limit of New
Darwin. Only scattered housing units and service malls broke up the morning
monotony. Laramie had to find a patrol area that precluded the possibility
of the duo from 'accidentally' turning up at the Beerworks. She couldn't
have picked a better spot.
"That's typical of Big," Lyn snorted, turning off
the cruiser's central viewing panel. "He gets away, leaving a harem of
hopelessly top-heavy sheilas behind to rebuild their shattered lives."
"I couldn't agree more," replied June. "He blows
them up and lets the wind carry them away." What June said could almost
be taken as literal truth. The women in Big's office at the Beerworks drank
a considerable amount of beer. Poor Deirdre was now saddled with oversized
watermelons. Her friends were affixed with beachballs. Of course, all of
the former Big lovelies were drunk, the inevitable consequence of consuming
all that beer. Counselors stood ready to provide aid when the women become
sober. It'll take a considerable amount of time to repair the damage that
Big had wrought.
"If only Laramie had stuck to her guns," said Lyn
with conviction. "We could've saved those girls from drinking all that
beer. But at least the lorries have been stopped."
"Amen for that, sister. Big still has that new potion,
though. If he follows through and uses that potion in other products, I
just might have to stop using deodorant."
Lyn giggled. "Then we lose both ways. You'll either
end up as big as a pillow woman or smell worse than a pile of bushbear
dung."
"Funny Har-Har. Lyn, save your observations for
more pertinent subjects. Take a look at that." June pointed to a large
vehicle coming down the road. "It has to be Large Marge. It's one of the
handful of vehicles on Outback that runs on petrol."
"I think the actual fuel is called diesel." Lyn
turned on the cruiser's cameras. "I'm going to save this for the scrap
book. It's not often you see a 400 year-old vehicle running on the road."
Large Marge was a road train, a type of truck that
plied the roads and highways of Australia back on Earth centuries ago.
Used to carry freight to and from remote towns and factories, road trains
were much more practical than smaller trucks and more accessible than railroads
and airports. Road trains might still have been in use, but the introduction
of high-speed air lorries brought an end to a distinctly Australian invention.
Like any proper road train, Large Marge pulled a
considerable load. Six 15-meter trailers were hitched to the truck, a huge
brick of power and style. The glossy black paint shined in the early morning
light. Lyn had to adjust the cruiser's window tint, sparing her eyes from
the truck's unintentional glare. The police cruiser and road train passed
each other, the drivers waving their hands in greeting.
"June, set the cruiser to autopilot. I'm going to
take some still captures from the video for my scrapbook."
"Sure thing." June pressed a button on the dash
control. The cruiser's computer took over the driving responsibilities,
maintaining an even course and speed. Lyn's controls still had override
authority, which explained why the brakes were engaged two minutes later.
June was thrown forward, her safety belts squeezing the breath out of her
lungs (NB).
"What the hell is that, Lyn? Even the computer wouldn't
have slammed on the brakes like that."
"Take a look at this." Lyn pointed at the view panel.
"There, sitting next to the driver of the road train."
"It appears to be a BAT (Boiler Android Trooper),"
June offered, sounding only a little concerned. "That doesn't necessarily
mean it belongs to Big. Remember, some of those BATs we captured two years
ago were auctioned off for the Children's Hospital fundraiser."
Lyn disagreed, manipulating the video. "Not so.
Look at the sticker on this truck. I cross-referenced it with the gate
passes for the Fairgrounds. This vehicle is permitted to carrying beverages,
such as soda and beer. And," Lyn said with urgency, "it's owned in part
by the president of the P&W Beerworks. Even though the road train is
unmarked, there is no-other vehicle like it on the planet."
June gulped "Oh My! That can only mean it's carrying
Bubbles and Big Beer. Well, just don't sit..." June's words were cut-off
when Lyn mashed down on the accelerator, turning the police car around.
"Hey, warn me when you do that! What's the plan?"
"Simple," said Lyn firmly. "We'll hit our rollers
and tell them pull over. Large Marge is subject to emissions standards.
We'll perform an emissions test, making them wait until Laramie can arrive
with a warrant to open up the trailers and test the drinks. Of course,
if that BAT is working for Big, then it'll be compelled to attack us on
sight. That's what I'm counting on."
"You're counting on a 200-kilo robot to attack you?
Fine. You be the one to request that it step out of the vehicle."
7
Casper Lytes sang a little ditty, happy that he's part of Big's nefarious
scheme. For the moment, the Police believe they have won the day by stopping
the delivery of Bubbles and Big Beer. Casper imagined the shock those coppers
will feel when they realize that a delivery of breast-enlarging drinks
had slipped past them. Large Marge was loaded with the first batches of
Bubbles and Big Beer two weeks ago. The huge vehicle then spent the intervening
time at Casper's display lot, the thousands of people who saw it never
knew what resided in the huge trailers. It was enough to make a devious
little man like Casper blow up with glee. He had to sing to relieve the
pressure. "I'm driving down Highway 40 in my big old... What Hey?"
He glanced at the rear panel display. "Police rollers?"
Sitting next to Casper was 38L, one of Big's Boiler
Android Troopers. Make to look like a walking advertisement for Bubbles,
the still-deadly robot made a mechanical noise. "What be it? Are we speeding?"
said 38L haltingly.
"No. We must have a blown out taillight or something."
Casper proceeded to bring the road train to a stop. "Good thing that the
road between here and the Fairgrounds has almost no curves."
"Remember," said 38L, "be courteous and unassuming."
"And you remember to kept quiet. According to your
record, you can't talk."
"Understood."
The huge vehicle rolled to a stop as the police
cruiser went to the other side of the road. Casper both mentally whistled
and bit his tongue when he saw the officers exiting the cruiser. Ah,
Hell. It has to be those two. They must have a link to the
Almighty when it comes to finding criminals! "Howdy, Officers," Casper
spoke with a pronounced Outback twang, "what may I do for you?"
The tall officer with dark hair produced her minicomp.
"Our atmospheric sensors detected anomalous readings from your vehicle's
exhaust system. I like to see this vehicle's emissions testing file and
your license, please."
"Glad to oblige, Officer." Casper kept cool and
complied with the request. 38L, on the other hand, found it exceeding difficult
to remain cool. He identified the officers as Wilcox and Parlor. All BATs
have hard-wired orders to attack the buxom duo in certain conditions. And
this is one of them - a relatively deserted piece of road with practically
no witnesses.
Wilcox moved to the left (passenger) side of the
vehicle, eyeing the robot up in the cab. "So, what's the robot's name?
Is it Tipsy?"
Casper grinned. "Actually, it's Bubbles. He'll be
walking around the Fairgrounds as an advertisement for a new drink called
Bubbles."
"I'm wondering," said the tall officer, "did you
buy that robot at a Police auction two years ago?"
38L had enough. The mere thought of having Wilcox
and Parlor in the same spot was too much. Two lasers popped out of 38L's
forearms. The cab's windows were down, and 38L pointed his weapons at the
officers...
"Duck!" Wilcox grabbed ground, the laser missing
by centimeters. She could only hope that June did the same. After pressing
the emergency transmitter tab on her collar-comm, Wilcox pulled out her
10mm Service Gun and proceeded to blast the cab's passenger door. To Lyn's
dismay, the bullets bounced off the door. It certainly wasn't the original
metal on that thing.
"You double-dork!" Casper cursed, hitting the BAT.
"You had to shoot, didn't you?"
"I have to o-bey orders," said 38L as it clambered
out of the cab. Casper quickly raised the windows and locked the doors.
June pounded on the driver's window. "Open up, Sir!
You're under arrest! The charge is possession of an armed robot in city
limits."
"I can't hear you," bleated Casper. "Just try and
stop me!" He started the rig, huge plumes of noxious smoke roiled out of
the twin exhaust stacks.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the rig, Lyn stood
face-to-face with an enraged water heater. The BAT raised his menacing
forearms...
BAM-BAM! Lyn shot off the lasers, leaving the BAT
unarmed (boy, what a bad pun). "Okay, you misbehaving piece of hardware,"
Lyn said with bravado, "raise those hands. No funny stuff."
"I won't dream of it... Ossifer!" A chest
panel slid open on 38L. In an eye blink, two flying cans of Bubbles knocked
the gun out of Lyn's hands. Two more cans pegged her in the gut, making
her double-over in pain. "38L gets in some licks," said the robot sarcastically.
"The Bronze is unable to withstand the blistering assault!"
Four more cans flew out, punishing the officer with
savage speed. Lyn protected her face, but her forearms and legs received
painful hits. She imagined the ugly bruises that would surely come from
those hits. "You hideous monster! You're bruising the flesh of a public
servant! A rather beautiful and cute one at that!"
The perverted robot actually chuckled. "I've been
programmed to do more than that, Bronze. You'll be beaten so bad that you'll
be mistaken for roadkill."
"We'll just see about that! Bad Attitude Powers
- Activate!" Lyn delivered a series of blows to the robot. She also supplied
the show's obligatory gratuitous panty shot. The attack was so intense
that Lyn actually caused some of the bodypanels to cave in. Ruptured cans
of Bubbles leaked their contents into 38L, causing it to short-out.
"Stop! I was only following orders! Have Pity!"
the robot pleaded.
Totally unsympathetic, Lyn shoved 38L down onto
the ground. A set of huge trailer tyres ran over the robot, crushing its
midsection flat. "You humans always pick on us poor BATS. I was only doing
my job..." 38L's whining was cut short by a mercy shot from Lyn's gun.
She placed her weapon back in its holster.
"June! Where are you?" Lyn yelled. The rig picked
up speed, making Lyn dash to the safety of the police cruiser.
"I'm up here!" It's June. She somehow got on top
of the lead trailer. "Get in the car and follow! I think this joker is
going to crash the Fairground's gate. We can't let that happen!"
"Okay! I'll get on the horn! Just don't do anything
stupid!"
"You know me!"
"That's what I'm concerned about!"
Casper giggled nervously. "I'll show them!" he boasted. "They can't
stop Large Marge when she's carrying a load this important! I'll crash
the gate and speed on towards the center of the Fairgrounds. Once there,
the bottle dispensers in the trailers will operate at full-bore. HA! Sixteen
thousand cans and bottles will be shot into the crowd. At least some women
will pick up those cans and..."
THUMP! Something landed on the cab's roof. Casper
knew who it was. He turned on the external speakers. "You'll have to try
better than that, Officer! The roof is bullet-proof too!" With glee, Casper
made the big rig swerve and dance. The sight of six big trailers cavorting
across the road certainly made Lyn anxious, driving but a short distance
behind the rouge vehicle. As for June, she had to drop on her knees on
the cab's top, holding onto the decorative railing for dear life.
Lyn thought things couldn't get any worse, but they
did. The loading gate on the last trailer opened, exposing two BATS armed
with real weapons. Lyn changed vehicle modes, enabling the repulsar-lift
drive as the tyres retracted into the cruiser. The BATs weren't going to
get rid of Lyn that quick by shooting at her tyres.
Back in the cab, Casper pounded the roof with his
right hand. "Hey, Officer, you okay? Let me slow down so you can get off!"
He mashed on the brakes, making the BATs lose their balance. They fell
onto the road, only to become instant roadkill as Lyn tried to avoid them.
The remains of a BAT head rested on the cruiser's hood.
On the roof of Large Marge one can find June in
her own predicament. The sudden braking made her lose her precarious hold
on the roof. She plopped onto the hood, her arms latching onto the windshield
wipers. They broke, and June slipped down towards the front. Casper rolled
down his window and produced a gun, taking potshots at June.
"What a jerk!" June cursed. The hood had been recently
waxed, making June's attempts to crawl forward futile. Now with Casper
shooting at her there was only one place left - the grillwork. June nearly
fell off, but she caught the hood ornament, a silver pig with wings. The
genuine silver fixture wasn't meant to support the weight of a person.
It bent, then utterly broke at the base. Fortunately, June latched onto
the grillwork for dear life, glad that she wore her gloves this morning.
"June! Are you still with us?" Lyn spoke over the
collar-comm.
"Yes I am! I'm stuck at the front of this thing!
Any ideas?"
"A good one! I saw Large Marge plenty of items when
I was a kid. There should be a manual hood release somewhere in the grillwork.
A button, really. Press it."
"Why should I do that?"
"The driver can't very well drive if he can't see.
Anyway, you can shoot up the engine once the hood is up."
"Okay! Tell Amber about that! If we goof-up, I don't
want to experience a roadblock first-hand!" Desperate, June's left hand
worked through the grillwork, seeking the elusive release button. After
what felt like hours she found and pressed the button.
"Hellnation!" Casper yelled. Large Marge's hood
raised up on mechanical arms, blocking Casper's forward view. There's no-way
he could close the hood now, unless he wanted to stop. And stopping wasn't
an option so long as the Bronze was on his tail. Four rapid gunshots startled
Casper. He glanced at the gauges, horrified to see the indicators turning
red. Then Casper heard the most dreadful sound any 20th century motorists
would be familiar with - the sound of an engine utterly and totally seizing
up.
Large Marge slowed of its own accord, going up a
slight incline. Only the matter of the turn ahead had to be addressed.
Of course, since Casper couldn't see... The big rig left the road, entering
a field of tape grass. June jumped clear of the rig, rolling away to safety.
Large Marge hit a substantial boulder and flipped, coming to rest on its
side. The vile contents of the ruptured trailers emptied out onto the ground.
Cleanup after this mess will be tedious. Casper clambered out the passenger
window, greeted by the sight of June pointing a gun at him. "Okay, wiseacre,"
June said firmly, "you truly are under arrest."
Lyn guided her cruiser up to June, stopping only
a few meters away. "Excellent work, partner," Lyn chimed, stepping out
of the vehicle, "but you'll need to cover your bottom quickly. Good thing
there's a spare microskirt in the trunk."
June's shirt remained intact, despite being smeared
with dirt and the occasional blade of tape grass. Additional blades of
the appropriately-named grass stuck to her arms and legs. Her microskirt
came undone in the roll, exposing a definitely non-regulation pink-and-lacy
panty. Bold, black letters on her backside spelled the words NO STEP.
Blushing appropriately, June place a free hand on
her bottom in an attempt to cover up the embarrassing words. "What can
I say?" she said honestly. "Today is wash day and this was all I could
find. From now on I'm only give my knickers to extra special hunks!"
Lyn sighed in annoyance. "June..."
8
Some 200km east of New Darwin lies one of Big's numerous secret lairs.
It's a small house that played host to a equally small attached greenhouse.
Inside the house, Big watched a news report on his wrist minicomp. Large
Marge the road train was intercepted by none other than Wilcox and Parlor.
That alone would've made Big steamed, but the little criminal was anything
but creative. He turned off his minicomp and gazed up at the ceiling, preparing
for his required supervillan soliloquy. "Casper Lytes may have failed me,
but I will strike again! Bubbles and Big Brew is just a foretaste of what's
to come! My potion will find its way into roll-on deodorants, lipstick,
toothpaste, and breath mints! My special little bundle of joy will provide
me the ingredient needed! Ha!"
That special little ingredient Big mentioned was
a plant. Specifically, it's the last example of the Nepalese Mountain Rosebush.
An extract from the rose pedals had the desired quality to increase a woman's
bust when ingested. Big's been able to extract this quality and apply it
to the creation of Bubbles and Big Brew. He still strived to recreate the
original, and far more potent, potion. The Nepalese monks that concocted
the original potion had burned down their monastery and fled. Big felt
that with his rosebush and other resources he had all the time he needed.
Whistling, Big got up and made for the greenhouse.
He donned a garden apron and hat before entering the hot and humid structure.
Big's happy feeling ended when he spied Pumpkin piddling on the rosebush.
"Pumpkin, what are you doing?! Get away!"
The little dachshund scampered away, but the damage
was done. The last example of the Nepalese Mountain Rosebush curled up
into a brown mass of branches and leaves. When Big gingerly touched a dehydrated
leaf the whole kit-and-kaboodle turned into a pile of dust. All the dreams
of avarice Big had about the plant went up in dust also.
"Pumpkin! You good-for-nothing poop machine!"
The dog went into surrender mode, belly exposed
in a sign of submission. Try as he might, Big couldn't get angry at Pumpkin.
The dog's big, black, dewy eyes touched what had to be the only strand
of compassion that resided in the man. "Ah, Hell," Big lamented, "I can't
stay mad at you. Come over here and give Biggy a kissy-kissy."
Pumpkin got on her haunches, begging to be held.
Big picked up his 'little-precious' and held her up to his face. The overdeveloped
rat licked away at Big's chin, making the supercriminal giggle in delight.
Chief Talbert went over the report, only looking up at Dr Sung to ask
an occasional question. "So, all the tests are positive?"
"Yes, Chief. Of the 44 women affected by the drinks,
30 of them decided to get a reduction. The nanites are working perfectly."
"Good to hear. Pity that six of them decided to
get bigger. In a way, Big has scored a victory. Every breast caper that
Big concocts at least some women enlarge themselves."
"True, Chief. Perhaps those women decided to make
the most of their situation. Be thankful that none of these women decided
to become pillow women, or were spirited away by Big to one of his hideouts."
"For that I'm grateful. I'm even more grateful that
the Fairgrounds was spared from Large Marge's perverted cargo. The poser,
however, is what became of the 3,400 unaccounted-for 24oz bottles of Bubbles.
Big may have stashed them somewhere on this planet. Worse yet, there could
be cases distributed randomly at mom-and-pop stores and remote service
stations. We could be looking at random incidents of breast expansion due
to Bubbles for years to come. Oh", Talbert said, straightening up, "any
idea on who might've taken those two Big Brew bottles from Evidence?"
"Haven't a clue, Chief," Sung said honestly, though
he smiled on the inside. "If it's one of our female officers, then we'll
hear about it on the grapevine soon enough."
[Epilogue - Two Weeks Later]
On the western edge of the Sea of Derby there's a beach owned by a luxury
resort. On this particular afternoon the beach played host to a smattering
of vacationing couples. One of those couples is Patricia Laramie and her
husband Douglas. Thanks to prolong, both Patty and Doug looked like energetic
people in their 50's.
Sitting on a decorative beach towel, Doug admired
the swimsuit that his wonderful wife of 80 years wore. He especially like
the addition to his wife's top. "Honey, you're not planning to keep those,
are you? As much as I like them, the kids and neighbors will ask questions."
Patty daintily placed a hand on one of her now pronounced
breasts. "Don't you fret, Doug. Four days before we leave I'll inject myself
with nanites. When we get back to the house no-one will be the wiser."
Doug grinned, his eyes filling with arousal. "Did
you get those nanites from the same source you got the beer? How much did
you shell out?"
"Not a penny, dear. My friend did this for me as
a gift." Patty snuggled up to Doug, holding him close to her new assets.
"We're both 100-years old and this is our 80th wedding anniversary. We
have six kids and 14 grandkids to our credit. For the next ten days I'm
going to spoil you rotten. Can you do the same for me?"
"Oh, yes, my goddess. Care to get an all-over tan?
But I believe we need an extra large bottle."
"Lecher!" Patty stuck out her tongue. "You do that,
Doug. I'll wait."
Doug went to a beach-side concession stand to get
a bottle of suntan oil. While she waited, Patty pulled the top of her swimsuit
away to get a brief look at her enlarged wonders. The normally 36C Patty
now played host to a set of 36G norks. For the next ten days Patty will
experience the joy of being a bosom goddess like Lyn and June.
The trash can behind Patty was emptied by a resort
employee. Two glass beer bottles clinked together as they were dropped
into a large trash hopper. The labels on those bottles spelled out the
words 'Big Brew'.
END | 27 |