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.

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











































