AUTHOR'S NOTE: Me and toow were supposed to be alternating drawings (per a court order handed out on April 2nd 2009), but he has long since stopped posting. Anyway, I thought I'd take the opportunity to commandeer his abandoned series. -woot"Seriously, come on! Send someone to finish the job! That red haired harlot is still strutting around the department with tits out to here." Any physical gesture indicating just how large the remainder of Detective Sullivan's bustline was completely lost over the phone. Marie Bellweather just had to imagine. They must be pretty big, because Pancake sounded pissed. More so than usual. The irate officer continued ranting. "It's almost worse now that she's not such a freak. Throw me a bone. Haven't all my tips been useful to your organization? Well?"
Marie felt like saying "yes, that's why that private you hated, Martinez, can't fill out an A-cup now. That's why my underlings carried out the hit on Sullivan without my authorization and without checking to see how full the Mammary Containment Unit was- to appease your snitch ass. That's why we had our first unsuccessful raid; because the sting operation covering the target wasn't over. That's why the MCU is overflowing like a clogged toilet, its radiation threatening to foul FLAT's members with budding boobs, because your rival's fat tits wouldn't flush." Instead she fished the last cigarette out of the pack and lit up, calming herself enough to remain diplomatic. "Your efforts are appreciated. Be patient and stand by for further instruction. Sullivan will be handled along with everyone else once we enter Phase Toow. Board out."
Marie hung up before she was forced to endure any objections Pancake might voice. Then she slumped low in her chair at the thought that Phase Toow might never arrive. That sneaky bastard might have taken the millions they gave him to develop the Atomic Bust Obliteration Mass Banisher and flown the coop.
Even if toow miraculously came though with the A-BOMB, would FLAT be in any position to deploy it? Since the MCU could hold no more, they had to cancel the bust busting raids that were so vital to morale. They were losing momentum and they were losing members. Only a small cadre of fanatic loyalists remained. Luckily it didn't require more than a skeleton crew to wait.
Meanwhile the cigarette between her lips burnt down to the filter. Ash spilled onto her white blouse and she cursed, brushing off what she could, then hunted for space in the crowded tray to jam the butt. Disgusting. Two years nicotine-free undone by all the recent stress. It was worth it though. Soon she'd wipe all but the memory of breasts off the face of the planet.
Oh how the mighty have fallen. I hope the MCU explodes in her face and she gets the breasts of all the women she stole from. But then she is forced to return them to their rightful owners.
Whoa. And the plot thickens. Perhaps in, some way, the A-Bomb could be combined with the filled MCU and made to have an effect inverse to what it was designed for- make a world full of people as big as Detective Sullivan, perhaps.
Heh.
Still, it's awesome to see new things on this storyline. Great work, Woot.
My research has led me to believe that just such an event may be possible, Sarah. Of course, whether or not the entire world is effected is dependent on the power of the A-BOMB and the quantity of contained mammaries. Terrain and obstacles also matter. Anyone in a bomb shelter or at the edge of the blast will receive less enhancement than a person who is at ground zero or has no objects in between themselves and the blast. This is all based on numbers though. What actually happens would have to be determined by a practical field test.
Am I the only one who picked up on the "skeleton crew" joke? Though it's probably one of the best-written stories on the site, it seems to be mysteriously unpopular >_>
Anyway, I love the way you're building up the tension, and I can't wait for the finale ;3
-woot
"Seriously, come on! Send someone to finish the job! That red haired harlot is still strutting around the department with tits out to here." Any physical gesture indicating just how large the remainder of Detective Sullivan's bustline was completely lost over the phone. Marie Bellweather just had to imagine. They must be pretty big, because Pancake sounded pissed. More so than usual. The irate officer continued ranting. "It's almost worse now that she's not such a freak. Throw me a bone. Haven't all my tips been useful to your organization? Well?"
Marie felt like saying "yes, that's why that private you hated, Martinez, can't fill out an A-cup now. That's why my underlings carried out the hit on Sullivan without my authorization and without checking to see how full the Mammary Containment Unit was- to appease your snitch ass. That's why we had our first unsuccessful raid; because the sting operation covering the target wasn't over. That's why the MCU is overflowing like a clogged toilet, its radiation threatening to foul FLAT's members with budding boobs, because your rival's fat tits wouldn't flush." Instead she fished the last cigarette out of the pack and lit up, calming herself enough to remain diplomatic. "Your efforts are appreciated. Be patient and stand by for further instruction. Sullivan will be handled along with everyone else once we enter Phase Toow. Board out."
Marie hung up before she was forced to endure any objections Pancake might voice. Then she slumped low in her chair at the thought that Phase Toow might never arrive. That sneaky bastard might have taken the millions they gave him to develop the Atomic Bust Obliteration Mass Banisher and flown the coop.
Even if toow miraculously came though with the A-BOMB, would FLAT be in any position to deploy it? Since the MCU could hold no more, they had to cancel the bust busting raids that were so vital to morale. They were losing momentum and they were losing members. Only a small cadre of fanatic loyalists remained. Luckily it didn't require more than a skeleton crew to wait.
Meanwhile the cigarette between her lips burnt down to the filter. Ash spilled onto her white blouse and she cursed, brushing off what she could, then hunted for space in the crowded tray to jam the butt. Disgusting. Two years nicotine-free undone by all the recent stress. It was worth it though. Soon she'd wipe all but the memory of breasts off the face of the planet.
Or not. Probably not.