READ THE TERRIBLE TWELVES VIA TAPASTIC!

READ THE TERRIBLE TWELVES VIA TAPASTIC!
A YA fantasy by Emily Devenport and Ernest Hogan

Monday, September 15, 2014

BRAINPAN FALLOUT: 23- GLOBAL DELIGHTS FOR FUN AND PROFIT




©Ernest Hogan 2014

"What?" I said reaching up for Vampiko's drum-tight implant-enhanced breasts.

She pulled them out of my reach. "Please. We're on soon. You'll smear my makeup."

"We're going on? Wait a minute." I looked around through the smoke, saw figures, human, saguaro, and other -- some with cellular phones, others with automatic weapons.  "Where are we?"

She giggled, not quite hiding her fangs with her dainty, white fingers with nails like red piranha teeth. "Don't you recognize it? This is my work. Global Delights."

"Oh yeah, the tittie bar." Some of the human figures were hard-bodied females, with almost nothing on.

"Why, Flash, you vulgar muchacho," a familiar voice said. "This place is far more than a mere tittie bar."

There he/she was. Lalaita. Doc Burnout's lover boy. All dolled up in a Kiss of the Spider Woman get-up that hid his male genitalia and gave full view of her brand-new breasts that were standing high and perky like fresh implants the size of bowling balls.

"My God," I found myself saying.

Lalaita purred and gave them a stereo squeeze with soft, well-manicured hands with knuckles that were just a little too big to pass for feminine. "Ay, you like my new chichonas?  They've already come in handy. They cop feels, but they never dream of looking inside."

The Krell chip made some connections too fast for me to follow. I was almost expecting Obeah X15's lady Califia Johnson to show up. But then that would be a bit much.

A phone rang. "No, she's not here. She's still in Nigeria."

I shuddered.

Vampiko pulled me to my feet. "Come, mon cher.  We have to go on stage."

"Here?  But I don't have any tits!"

She ran a delicate fingertip along the X-shaped scar on my face. "Yes, but you have something else, dear, something that a lot of people want."

Lalaita did a rapid-fire tongue-click. "You dos! This is no time for the getting romantic! We have work to do."

I could barely stand. They each took an arm and practically had to carry me, which took some doing since I'm a good head taller than both of them.

Music started -- corny Latin jazz to the plastic beat of Asian pop. The lights blinded me. The crowd growled like a hungry monster.



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