Thump or Hump – Not a Sequel to the Anti Uber, Uber Xena Story
by
Disclaimer: Hell yes! My muse is obviously on vacation, because her dark shadow sister has come out to play.
Any resemblance to any copyrighted characters anywhere else is purely satirical in nature and not meant to make fun – er – offend their original owners.
P.S.: I refuse to take responsibility for any ruined monitors or keyboards. Please remove all liquids from reach, as I fear they could be lethal to such devices.
As always, Razz the writer: shaych3@yahoo.com
“I am Bertha Smith. I am not an uber character,” proudly disclaimed the tallishly short, black-eyed, blue-haired security guard. She patted her somewhat flabby stomach and belched. “Nope, not me. I’m just yer average, ordinary lesbian not-so-bull dyke wannabe cop.” She belched, farted and scratched her head.
“And I,” a nasally voice perked up, “am Billie-Mae Betty-Sue Allington, of the Puce Pond Allingtons.” A shortishly tall, puce-eyed, dishwater blonde woman oozed into the light of the security guard’s flashlight. “And I’m here to steal your heart, you big hunk of wannabe cop, you.”
“Well, I certainly hate to disappoint you, ma’am, but my heart’s not up for grabs. I’m married, see?” The security guard proffered her hand. On the third finger rested a diamond ring, the stone size of a small caliber bullet.
“Yowza! That’s some stone you got there, Bertha. But stones don’t mean bones when it comes to my lovin’! I guarantee you will be one hundred percent lez-be-an if you let me take you under the sheets.”
“Harrumph! I like dick, I tell you. Dick, dick, dick. Give it to me, baby!” The middling height, dark haired woman shouted lasciviously.
“Bull honky, Uber baybee! You’re made for my lovin’. C’mere!” Billie-Mae reached out, grabbed hold of Bertha’s coat and pulled her down. “Now, let’s whatcha think of this!” Smothering the guard’s squawk with her lips, the little dirty blonde smashed her lips into Bertha’s. The guard fought briefly, but ceased fighting when Billie-Mae’s tongue eeled into her mouth and fished around sloppily.
Finally, Billie-Mae let the wannabe cop go. Wiping her mouth against the back of her hand, Bertha gagged and coughed. Fuck-me red lipstick smeared over black polyester, leaving a greasy trail of wanton lust. The security guard gaped at Billie-Mae who was grinning like she’d just won the all-county frog-jumping contest.
“What have you done to me, you crazed slut bomb? My head, oh, my poor, formerly heterosexual head! It is filled with visions of your tongue and my body – and it’s all so very carnal!”
“I know,” said Billie-Mae, her pretty homely features twisting into the parody of a gentle leer. “Isn’t it wonderful? Now you can toss that tricky dicky and try some pretty pussy!” She swaggered her hips suggestively.
“Mmm... gimme!” Bertha moaned as she melted into a pile of hormonal slush.
The bunnies, oh the bunnies. There were whole families of them - running in, flying out – all racing to and fro, fleeing for their very lives as Bertha and Billie-Mae hopped to it like fathers and sons at the company potato sack race.
Afterwards, the newly made couple squished in the afterglow.
“B.M. honey, why is your left foot stuck in my right eye socket?” Bertha asked as she tried to unwedge her fist, forearm and elbow from Billie-Mae’s neither here nor there regions.
“Oh sugar, I think I must have slid when I should have slipped. Sorry ‘bout that,” the average sized, common faced woman said as she flopped over onto her back. “Whoo-ee woo-woo, but that was the best damned sex I’ve ever had! I knew you were an uber!”
“Uber, under, goober, thunder. Does it matter?” Bertha asked as she lit up a thick stogie and took a long puff. “You can suck better than my college dorm buddy, Sharlise ‘Hoover Gams’ Bolton.”
Billie-Mae raised one rakish, unruly eyebrow. “I thought you claimed to be het, Bet.”
“Oh, I am, B.M. But every girl’s had her experimental college lays-I mean, days.”
The average white blonde pouted. “I thought I was your one and only.”
Bertha immediately crushed Billie-Mae into her sagging chest. “Of course you are, my beloved B.M.”
A ragged, snot-filled snuffle was Billie-Mae’s only answer as she burst into hysterical tears.
“Oh shut your yap, you worthless excuse for a slut-bomb!” a weirdly insane voice blasted over the piles of junk that filled the city dump.
“I know that voice,” Bertha whispered somewhat fearfully.
“Who-who is it, my honey love muffin stud woman?” Billie-Mae asked through her sobs.
“Oh Bertha dear. Here comes trouble...” sing-songed the voice.
From around the piles of fermenting garbage came the most corpulently fat, hideously beautiful woman with the most gigantic tits and ass that Billie-Mae Betty-Sue Allington had seen.
“Hoover Gams,” whispered Bertha. A groan of mixed pleasure and pain was torn from her the almost uber’s throat when the humongous plentitude of womanhood shimmied her hips and smiled, revealing a mouth full of golden teeth.
“I told you I’d find you again someday, my sweet. You can’t hide from me, Bertha Smith. I own you – and your cooking skills too!”
“Cooking skills?”
Bertha shrugged nonchalantly. “What can I say? I’m a kitchen samurai. I kick ass at the stove.”
“Yes you do, my little slavey-wavey. And you owe me dinner! Did you think you could escape? Did you think I wouldn’t notice? You and that little boy-toy ran off before you made my tiramisu! I want vengeance, Bertha! I will have my chocolaty-caramel cream delight and you will beg me to eat it!” Sharlise waddled closer, reaching out an imperious hand toward Bertha. “Come along now.”
“No! I’m tired of cooking for you, and for that useless excuse of a husband! Billie-Mae has opened my eyes and shown me that I was never meant to be anything but the uber I am! I defy you, Hoover Gams! I will not now, nor ever again, cook for you!” Bertha jumped up, dragging Billie-Mae with her. “Let’s run, B.M. Run like the wind, for Sharlise’s fury will know no end!”
Indeed, the massive woman’s face was turning redder and redder, causing several nearby dump rats to scurry into hiding.
“Quickly now, children!” a mother rat scolded her tiny brood. “We must hide, for nothing is more fearsome that an uber bitch denied.” The tiny rat pack nodded in agreement and followed their mother deep into the trash pile.
Around and through the piles of trash and junk Bertha and Billie-Mae ran, shedding excess clothes and pounds until both were clad in the briefest of briefly popular fashions and sculpted into the shapes of young warrior-goddesses.
A natural cave formed by three broken down cars, an old washer and a mound of decaying mattresses beckoned to the handsome duo and in they went. Natural endorphins combined with an instinct so old it was impossible to deny caused them to force several more clans of bunnies to run for their very lives.
Exhausted, sated and very, very sticky with sweat, Bertha crawled up over Billie-Mae. Her face glistened in the yellow streetlamp light and a smile of pure wicked happiness was etched deeply into the proto-uber’s now somewhat pretty face.
Billie-Mae gasped happily. “Oh my beloved Soulmate, we are becoming perfect reflections of the beautiful love that is our carnally sexual desire!”
“I know, baby-lumpkins. We shall cast off the old shell of our truly mediocre mundane lives. But first, we must defeat Hoover Gams once and for all! I have a plan!” Bertha hugged Billie-Mae so tight, she squeaked.
“Oo! Tell me, my brilliantly wondrous slayer chef!”
“Berrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrtha. Oh Bertha, where are you my little cheffy-weffy. I hunger for some sweet chocolaty revenge!”
Boom! Boom! The walls of the faux cave shook as Sharlise drew nearer to the duo’s hideout.
Bertha and Billie-Mae scampered out of the cave, raced past the gargantuan Gams and headed for the massive trash compactor conveniently located in the center of the dump.
The couple ran in companionable silence. Not even the wheeze of their panting broke through the heavy cloak of quiet that settled around them.
“Almost...there...” Billie-Mae whimpered, squinting to keep sweat and dump dirt from dripping into her hair.
“Just a few...more...steps...there!” Bertha shouted, scooping Billie-Mae into her arms and leaping the last few hundred feet into the air and over the compactor.
Just a breath and a fart behind them, Sharlise attempted to copy the uber’s fantastic leap, and failed. Falling short by several yards, the massive glob of humanity dropped into the waiting maw of the compactor.
With a grim grin, Bertha depressed the on button. “You are the worst button to ever exist,” she whispered, pushing on the little red plastic nubbin.
“Oo,” Billie-Mae exclaimed pertly. “I just love the way you do that.”
Chunking and thumping sounds drifted up from below.
Curious, the women peered over the edge and wrinkled their now rather cute noses. “Ew,” Bertha said with distaste. “I always knew it was wrong to put too much sugar in her coffee.”
“Oh, you’re right. But at least she ate her vegetables...”
~*~*~
“Vegetables? Yo, Will, what the heck? Wake up, honey. You’re dreaming again.”
“What? Huh? Oh, goddess. I should definitely not mix all you can eat veggie pizza with a triple layer chocolate peanut butter cream dream shake.”
“I told you not to. Here, come cuddle with me. It’ll make you feel better.”
“Mm, thanks, Ken. I love snugglies.”
fin
2/26/03
Once in a Garden/Deep As You Go
The Anti-Uber, Uber Xena Story