Dr Hooters A short story The early morning fog was just beginning to burn off in the grow- ing sunlight when Mel Morrison brought his truck over Bald Top on Route 122. He looked up at the digital clock on his dashboard. It read 6:12. Good, he thought, I'll be in Mercer by 7:00, and back in Ashville by noon. Fishing through his pockets, Mel pulled out a joint and lit it. He inhaled deeply, pulling the acrid smoke deep into his lungs. God, how he needed to relax after taking all those jitter-pills for his overnight runs! When he got to Mercer, maybe they'd let him sleep while they unloaded his truck. Jamming his huge eighteen-wheeler into a lower gear for the de- scent into Mercer, Mel admired the mountain scenery. He'd left Huntsville two days ago, driving mountain all the way. No way he was gonna go through Atlanta. No, this was better, easier on a man's soul... The huge truck picked up speed as Mel guided it down the twisting mountain road. As he crossed the Clay county line, he rubbed his bleary, pot-filmed eyes. It looked like there was someone in the middle of the road. Mel pulled on the truck's air horn, but the figure didn't move. As Mel got closer, he saw what it was. It was a girl, a tall black girl. If Mel hadn't been so frightened, he would have been turned on. In an instant, he took in her exraordinary silhou- ette. She was wearing a leather jacket and tight worn blue jeans that revealed spectacular curves and long, powerful legs. The zipper on the leather jacket was pulled down to about mid-chest, revealing a truely awsome expanse of chocolate-colored breast. She was standing in the middle of the road with her arm extended, legs spread apart. Mel hit the air brakes, but it was too late. He was going to go right over the top of the girl. It was the last thing he ever saw... ******************* Yolanda picked up the front end of the smoking ruin which had been Mel's truck and heaved it over the side of the cliff, off the road. She watched dispassionately as the twisted mass of metal turned end over end, landing in a heap in the deep mountain dale below. Then she sat and waited for the next vehicle. She flexed her arms. It had been so easy to flip the truck back on itself, she thought. Julie had said that she was going to be a goddess. She didn't know about that, but she was pleased at the way things had turned out. A couple of weeks ago, Yolanda had been serving a five year sen- tence for armed robbery, a fat, ugly, black bitch with no future, no tits, and no man. Now, she had a face that would make Halle Berry crawl into a hole, tits the size of watermelons sprouting off her chest, and she could throw a truck around like it was a sofa pillow. Shit! Burying her hands under her leather jacket, Yolanda felt the in- credible expanse of her newly acquired tits. They were enormous, solid, high and firm. She started getting hot just thinking about how big she was. When this shit was over, she was gonna grab her a man down there in Mercer, a big black man, with a big black dick, and fuck him through the ceiling. And he better not slap her, or kick her, like the others had done... Then she though, maybe I'll get me a white one. And he better not call me a nigger bitch, either. Maybe I'll get two of each, she thought. The next vehicle was a blue Mercedes, containing an older white man and his wife. Yolanda waved them over to the side of the road. They emerged from the car, visibly shaken and angry. "What is this all about, young lady?", asked the husband. "Ain't no one gettin' into Clay County without they first pledge allegiance to her Imperial Majesty Julia Potenta, Imperatrix Or- bis Terrae." The Latin didn't come easily, but she pronounced it as closely as she could, imitating what Julie had told her. "Preposterous!", exclaimed the wife. "In all my days..." Yolanda began to get angry. White shit, she thought. Well, hell, Julie didn't care about white or black. She was gonna put things right, with Yolanda right on top, where she belonged. "I ain't up here to get into no shoutin' matches with no cracker bitches, lady", Yolanda fumed. "Now, you gonna swear allegiance to Empress Julia or not?" The wife began to gasp with barely suppressed fury. "I can't, I won't, why you little nigger slut!", she hissed. The husband grabbed her wife's arm, looking at Yolanda's powerful bosom and legs. "Maybe she's got a gun", he warned. "She looks pretty dangerous. Yolanda pushed the wife aside, grabbed the Mercedes underneath the front bumper, and with one hand tossed it into the canyon. It landed with a great crash not far from the still-smoking wreckage of Mel's truck. "Ya'll can walk to town then!" The wife fainted. The husband fell to his knees, raised his right hand and swore. "I hereby renounce all allegiance to the United States of America, and place myself, my property, and my family under the protection of Julia the Mighty, Empress of the Whole World, both now and forever!" Yolanda nodded her head, tossing her thick, savage mane of wavy black hair with unassumed delight. "That's more like it folks", she said sunnily, shaking his hand. "I'm the Duchess Yolanda, by the way!" Repeating her performance with the next six or seven cars that came over the rise, Yolanda soon had a small knot of people gath- ered at the county line. When the eighth car stopped, the others pleaded with the driver to swear allegiance immediately, save his vehicle, and take them on into town. ********************* Cathy and Conchita walked into the McDonald's on the outskirts of town. It had been a long walk from the prison, but they didn't feel the least bit tired. Both girls were wearing the faded blue prison uniforms, but that wasn't what made the locals look up from their coffee. Cathy Evans was a tall blonde, about five-nine, with full, lush, curly hair falling to past her waist. The prison outfit was straining to contain her at every point, in her thighs, which looked like two great hams in blue casing, in herarms, where her powerful biceps and triceps strained at the sleeves of the uni- form shirt, and especially in the breasts, where Cathy had unbut- toned the first four buttons, displaying an enormous pair of full, round, white breasts, completely unrestrained by any bra, and yearning to burst the bonds of the remaining buttons with each step. Conchita Gonzales was as small and dark as Cathy was tall and fair, but she was Cathy's equal in one way; her delicious dark round Spanish breasts were as large, as high, and as firm, and as well displayed as Cathy's. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders, framing an oval olive face with a large, wide sensual mouth and ferocious brown eyes. Conchita was trying to wear a bra, al- though you could see the tormented scrap of fabric through the wide gaps her basketball-sized breasts opened between the buttons of her prison uniform shirt. Their entrance electrified the restaurant. Several men who had been sitting, sipping coffee, stood up and moved towards the counter and approached the two women. "Hey, baby", said one, a tall, lean fellow in a hunting jacket. "You look pretty hot this morning!" Conchita shot him a withering glance. "You don't know hot, you bastard!", she shot back. Another of the men recognized the prison garb. "Hey, escaped convicts!", he shouted. "Let's take 'em in and get the reward!" "Yeah!", shouted a third, but let's **fuck** 'em first!" "Right!" "Damn straight!" "No sense in letting Sheriff Daniels have all the fun!" Cathy stretched out her arm, grabbed the burly gent in the hunt- ing jacket, and tossed him easily through the plate glass store- front window. The rest of the men hovered back momentarily. The manager and staff of the restaurant cowered behind the counter. "Any of you boys who want the same treatment can just step for- ward now", she purred. None of the 'boys' took her up. "Good. Looks like you've got some sense", she continued. "We are here to inform you that Clay County is now the personal prop- erty of her Imperial Majesty, Julia the Mighty, Empress of the Whole World, and you are her subjects, worms!" She grabbed another man and lifted him over her head with one arm. "Does anyone have a problem with that?" No one responded. Cathy dropped the man to the floor, and within a few seconds, had completely demolished the counter area, the fry ovens, and the rear of the store. Then she kicked an opening through the wall on the side, and pushed the twisted mess through it, out into the drive-through lane. The men were cowering in the rear of the store, totally terri- fied. The two escaped convicts were blocking the only entrance. Conchita fished a cigarette out of her chest pocket, squashed flat by the pressure of her titanic breasts. She turned to the trembling men. "Any of you darlings got a light?" On men ner- vously extended her his lighter. "Thanks, darling", cooed Conchita. She lifted the lighter to the cigarette, let the cigarette drop from her lips, opened her mouth, and flicked the lighter. A tongue of flame erupted from Conchita's open mouth, engulfing the men and igniting the tables, benches, wastebaskets, ceiling, and the paint on the walls. Conchita howled with delight as she watched the men dance in the flames, their clothes burning off their bodies, their skin crackling off their flesh, their eyes melting in their sockets. Their shrieks of agony seemed to ex- cite Conchita more and more, as another breath of flame belched from the furnace of her red little mouth. "They burn so easily, Cathy.", she commented quietly. "Almost no fun at all." Sirens sounded in the distance. The two convicts strolled out to the curb, ast down, and waited for the police to arrive. ***********************************