[Fonk]

Great stuff, sir! 😀

[Fonk]

I don't think anything about that could be described as "small". 😛

Nice work!

[Fonk]

Those are ace works! Thanks for sharing them with us. 🙂

[Fonk]

I have to say, I don't want the popcorn the little dude is offering, but a ringside seat – and some sort of protective shield! – would be awesome. 😉

[Fonk]

Hee! That's some great commentary, sir. Thank you for that, and the completion of the page! ;D

[Fonk]

P'tit Spirou! I remember him.

Thank your girlfriend for us! 😉

[Fonk]

I put my cross next to American Beauty. 😀 Nice work!

[Fonk]

The best moment in 'Freakazoid' history. 😉

[Fonk]

Well, you've caught me in a translating mood. ;D

————————

When Natacha and I went down to the ground floor, Gilles was waiting for us, reading the morning paper. He lifted his eyes towards us.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.

"Yes! I slept like a log."

"I suppose you were tired."

"A little," I replied, embarrassedly. He smiled faintly.

"Here!" he said, passing me the newspaper. "I'll be back in a moment."

Gilles went to the telephone as I looked over the front page of the local rag. There was nothing really interesting: just a few little stories and some sports news. I looked over at my friend.

"Yes!" he said to whoever was on the other end of the line. "Very good!" A pause. "We'll be there shortly." He made a "follow me" gesture and walked past without even turning his head. "Those shorts fit you very well – I was afraid they'd be too big!" As I looked at him, I saw he was making an effort to keep his lips closed so as not to laugh. I turned, furious, to Natacha. She was chewing her index finger and wearing a naughty look, which told me all I needed to know: she'd talked. I wondered what else she might have said.

Suddenly I began to feel uneasy: Gilles was my friend! What had I done? Hundreds of questions flew around my head and I stood there whilst he walked down the gravel path. Was I guilty of anything, after all? Had I had a choice? And… were they really his daughters?

I played the film of the last twenty-four hours back in my mind, and no element of an answer came to mind: not about my presence at Malemort, not about Natacha and her sisters, not about the role of Gilles in it all. I hurried up to rejoin them and decided to ask the man some of my questions as we traversed the park.

"Gilles! You promised me an explanation." He took a few steps before replying.

"That's right! It's time to tell you everything."

"Finally!" A pause. "I'm listening!"

"Good! Everything started, twenty years ago, when I met Svetlana. Well, to be more precise, when she came to find me." Gilles stopped for a moment. "Have you heard of the Chernobyl disaster?"

"Chernobyl? Of course! Everyone's heard of Chernobyl! Hundreds of thousands of people died, others were mutilated and some became mutants that…" I stopped in the middle of my sentence. Bingo! Everything became clear! I looked at Natacha, eyes wild, looking for a sign of approval in her eyes. A mutant!

Gilles grabbed me by the arms.

"No, that's not it at all."

"You… you mean Svetlana didn't undergo some genetic transformation or, or, something like that? She… she was like that before the catastrophe?"

"Yes!" he said, laughing. He took a deep breath. "In fact… she's a…" He looked at me, worried, then finished his phrase. "She's an Amazon."

"A whaaaat?"

"An Amazon! An Amazon of the Black Sea." As I looked incredulous, Gilles thought it a good idea to go into details.

"They were a people that lived, years ago, around the Black Sea coast: that's how they got their name. The Greeks barely mentioned them in their stories… which is how they managed to survive for centuries until the modern era. Well, almost! In any case, the Amazons of Capadocia disappeared completely! But let's get back to the story. The Amazons of the Black Sea emigrated to the north about five hundred years ago. They lived, in peace and solitude, near to Chernobyl, only leaving their home to capture sailors for reproductive purposes."

"Sailors? And what happened to them afterwards? Where they killed, or mutilated? I read that in some history books."

"No! That must have been ancient times. The Amazons got gentler. They had families and raised their children just as anyone would. Except, of course…"

"Except…"

"Except that it was a matriarchal society, of course! Women did all the hard and difficult work. They alone were capable of pulling the ploughs and breaking logs with their bare hands. They had all the responsibilities. The man was a sort of child-minder, cook… well, you see what I mean."

"I'm afraid that I do understand!"

"Don't worry! With women's rights progressing in the western world, times changed. Today, you can say that sexual equality is a reality in the Amazonian world." Gilles glanced at Natacha and continued, smiling. "Except for the physique, of course!" I looked at Natacha, who nodded.

"Obviously!"

"That still doesn't explain why you need me!"

"You still don't understand?" He paused. "When the Chernobyl disaster happened, the Amazons were decimated. Svetlana was the only survivor… she came to find me because of my research on genetics and reproduction. She needed help to make sure her line was not extinguished."

"You…"

"Let me finish! We made love that first night, and every night after, until the day Svetlana fell pregnant. Then we threw ourselves into research, and we finally found what we were looking for: the gene that gives Amazons their extraordinary bodies and Herculean strength!" Gilles looked at me, smiling widely. "I can make an Amazon out of any woman on this Earth! But the direct line must not die out: you have the genetic traits of a sailor… an ancient sailor from the Black Sea!"

That stopped me in my tracks. A shiver went through my whole body. I stayed still and looked at Gilles for a long time. He, in turn, looked at my face intently, trying to see the slightest reaction, but he was wasting his time. I was stunned. I literally didn't know what to think. I turned to Natacha, who was trying to make it look like she wasn't listening.

She was standing behind us. The tall blonde had turned to face the wind, making her long, shining hair flow out behind her. She looked into the distance, peacefully, making her chest swell with each breath. To pass the time, she had a handful of pebbles that she was holding in the palm of her hand. She took them, one by one, between her thumb and index finger, and made them explode between her fingers, mechanically, without showing any effort.

A little explosion made itself heard each time and Natacha let a small wisp of sand fall, slowly, from her fingers, waiting patiently for the last grain to fly away. Then she would start again. She lowered her head to look at her hand. It was already empty. She sighed, and absently wiped her hand on her T-shirt to get rid of the sand. She turned to me.

The imprint of her hand had stained the T-shirt at chest level. That immediately drew my eye and I observed her breasts bounce for a moment. The simple movement of the enormous masses of flesh under her T-shirt hypnotised me. They swept the fabric from the inside and, little by little, the traces of sand fell away, taken by the wind. The process worked so well that the T-shirt sparkled. Natacha shivered.

Her chest rose and the fabric crept the length of her abdominals to stop a few centimetres below her chest. Her breasts stopped moving instantly. Held between two powerful pectorals and the ready-to-burst T-shirt, they became harder and larger. Her two nipples, clearly visible, tried to pierce the thin fabric, which had gone almost transparent.

I lifted my eyes.

The wind sent her hair flying at chest level. I couldn't really make out her face, but it looked like she was chewing her lip nervously. She was obviously waiting for me to react.

I couldn't understand! If she needed me to make a baby, she just needed to find me a bed, or stick me against a wall, or the hood of a car. I couldn't have fought her off.

What did she want from me? For me to fall in love?

When I wiped my brow, my fingers began to tremble all of a sudden. Could she be in love with me? I couldn't imagine so, and tried to find a more reasonable explanation. Too excited to talk directly to Natacha, I tried to get some explanation by talking to Gilles.

"If I understand it right, you want me to have a child with an Amazon and disappear?"

"No! That's not what I want at all." He paused. "I want you to marry an Amazon… and spend your life here at Malemort, to carry on what I started!"

My trembling became much more intense. I wanted to cry, to get some relief, but my pride stopped me. I swallowed, and tried to continue. Natacha stopped me. She stood in between Gilles and me who took that as his cue to leave us in peace. I watched him leave without saying anything, after which I tried to meet Natacha's gaze.

She had taken my hands in hers and was kneeling in front of me.

[Fonk]

He didn't even look at the secretary's body, which was slowly folding up on itself, and walked over to the wooden double doors. A kick fit to rock the walls later and the wood blew to bits, revealing a second metallic door, bent inwards slightly from the blow.

"Dammit! It's armour-plated!" Cleo said, bearing down on it to tear it from its frame. Nefertiti stopped her.

"Wait! I can kick harder!"

She contracted her thigh muscles, stretching the suede of her boots to the limit. Her leg moved so quickly that Marco heard the blow more than saw it: it was like a bolt of lightning. He felt the shockwave ripple up the ceiling. One of the large metal doors was projected into the room; the other, bent and twisted, hung to the frame by a single hinge, threatening to fall to the floor. A small smile of satisfaction lit Nefertiti's face for an instant, who walked into the room with Cleo and the two men.

Their entrance into Tinguely's office seemed to have frozen its occupants to the spot. Their astonished looks all turned to the gaping hole that had once been an armour-plated door. Tinguely was stood behind his desk. A slight man of around thirty sat facing him. An open dossier was on the desk in front of him. At the end of the desk a young blonde woman in an ecru suit stood: Tinguely's personal assistant. All three watched the arrival of the two muscular girls, followed by Vaud and Marco. Nefertiti and Cleo separated slightly, to frame the two men. Vaud broke the silence.

"We had so much trouble delivering this little bag that I had to take over the operation myself…"

Tinguely knew the game was up. He had a momentary panic, visible on his face, before regaining his composure. His hand moved imperceptibly under the desk.

"Good idea!" Vaud continued. "Call security. These two girls will show you what they can do."

At that moment, two bodyguards sprang out of a hidden door, guns in their hands, and spread out. Nefertiti somersaulted over and launched her feet into the thorax of one of the men. He fell onto his back and Nefertiti landed on his chest, which was crushed on impact. Ribs cracked, perforating his heart and lungs. The man opened his bloody eyes wide and looked over to Tinguely, his half-open mouth spurting a thin trickle of blood. Nefertiti had already turned a backwards double somersault, passing over the second guard's head, grabbing his neck with her right hand. She landed just behind the guard this time, whose head was trapped between her arm and shoulder. The man was being strangled and took tighter grip of his pistol. He didn't have time to use it, as with one contraction Nefertiti had broken his neck. Tinguely jumped when he heard the cracking of vertebrae. The girl turned to him and, in a sexy pose, sent him a kiss as she let go of the body, which slipped to the floor behind her.

At the same time, an electronic noise began to sound in one corner of the room. A sort of robot, resembling a large round vacuum cleaner about four feet tall and armed with a little cannon rolled towards the intruders. Tinguely smiled.

"We shall see if you can beat the robot as easily as my bodyguards!"

Cleo went towards the robot and grabbed the cannon in one hand. She pulled on it, tearing it off. She shook it at the machine before breaking it in two. The robot had stopped in front of the girl, looking for all the world like a lost little boy. Cleo leaned forward and grabbed the machine, lifting it off the floor. It must have weighed more than 150kg but it was like a feather in Cleo's arms. She squeezed. Nothing happened for a moment, but then the robot was crushed in her grip like a piece of paper or aluminium. She bent and twisted it into a ball, which she then lifted over her head and in one fluid movement threw it at Tinguely. He ducked under his desk for cover as it crashed against the wall, sending plaster and brick dust around him.

Cleo stood in front of the desk, her miniskirt revealing her powerful thighs through the dark stockings, one hand on her hip.

"Haven't you got anything better?" she asked.

Tinguely looked at them, slack-jawed. He couldn't speak. He was literally stupefied by the feats of strength he had just witnessed. Nefertiti, accompanied by Cleo, approached him at a sign from Mr. Vaud. Nefertiti stood just in front of him. She dominated him with her stature and build. He felt firm breasts push against his ribcage. She continued to walk forward, forcing him to retreat until he was trapped against the wall; then she seized his right forearm and pulled it out horizontally against the wall.

"Cleo, could you make sure Sir is comfortable?"

Without saying a word, Cleo did a roundhouse kick, and sticking her high heel into the wall… through Tinguely's wrist. He howled in pain and started sobbing. She stayed like that for a few moments, then slid her foot out of the shoe. Using her stocking-only foot for support, she repeated the operation with the other arm that Nefertiti had put out, like a cross. The heel made a sort of clicking as it was thrust deeply into the brick wall. Tinguely cried again, covering the discreet sound of Cleo sliding her foot out of the shoe. The two girls stood back, leaving the man literally stuck to the wall by Cleo's shoes.

The secretary, horrified by everything she had witnessed, ran for the door. Nefertiti caught her in two strides. Tinguely's assistant was a young, sexy woman, but next to Nefertiti she seemed drab and charmless. Marco looked at the powerful glutes clothed in silvery shorts that stuck to her like a second skin, leaving a glimpse of her buttcrack, and compared them to the secretary's. He looked down to the muscular thighs of the bodyguard, at least twice as thick as those of the secretary. Nefertiti grabbed her by the neck to stop her.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"Rrrggggglll!"

She lifted the woman with one hand and came back to the group. She sat her in a chair next to Tinguely, and she looked up at her crucified boss without daring to move. The young woman burst into tears on the desk. Nefertiti and Cleo went to Mr. Vaud's side and approached their victim. He spoke with a gentle, appeasing voice.

"Well, now that that's all sorted out, could you explain to me why it is so dangerous to send documents to you, Mr. Tinguely?"

The man turned his head in a grimace of pain, as the motion pulled on his forearms. Vaud spoke again.

"Would you like to answer my questions, or must I invite Nefertiti and Cleo here to make you speak to me?"

"Go to hell!"

"Very well… ladies, break his legs."

The two girls approached Tinguely. Nefertiti took one of his thighs and put it in between hers. She squeezed: Marco saw her thighs and glutes contract. After a few moments the pain was too much and Tinguely started to groan. His femur cracked once, twice, three times, as Nefertiti rubbed her pelvis against the man's thigh. She spread her legs and the man's broken limb fell limply. He sobbed, now lacking the strength to cry.

"Your turn, Cleo!" Nefertiti said, moving away. Cleo lifted her foot to the level of the man's face.

"Lick." He obeyed.

"Lick it well, I want my stockings to be dripping with your saliva."

He almost hungrily licked the foot in front of him, almost snapping up her toes and passing his tongue along the nylon stockings. After a minute or two, Cleo drew her foot back, and kicked his knee with the sole of her foot. He was shaken by the blow. The joint literally splintered into pieces, leaving a gaping, angry wound and a leg held together by a few ligaments. Vaud let him sob for a few moments before speaking again in his gentle voice.

"So, Tinguely, should they continue? Or should I ask your employees if they know something?"

"No.. no… they know nothing… leave them alone!!"

"So tell me what I want to know!!"

"Yes… yes… I made a mistake… I… I thought I could sell them on for more."

"To who?"

"I don't know who the buyer was, honestly. Maybe from the Middle East… maybe the Russians. I only know my contact. In any case if you don't kill me they will…"

"That's fair. But, just so you know, you do not double-cross me. Cleo!"

Vaud clicked his fingers, designating the prisoner. Cleo went up to him, putting her foot into his face, sticking it to the wall. Marco then saw the muscles of her thigh contract and inflate before he heard the first cracks. They became more and more intense. His head was deforming under the pressure of her foot. It became oval, then flattened out before being crushed, causing brains and blood to spurt out. Vaud loved every second. When she had finished, Cleo went up to him and stood close to him, caressing his chest. They stayed like that for a few moments, watching the blood running down the wall and caressing the murderer, before seeming to pull himself together.

"OK, well done. Girls, finish these two clowns and we'll be off."

Nefertiti seized the girl's hair and lifted her head. She looked into the imploring eyes, eyes that offered her a silent prayer, before ramming her head against the desk: her skull fractured, and the desk broke in two. Cleo approached the man, took his head in her hands and moved close. She kissed him, forcing her tongue into the man's mouth and exploring his palate and throat. She broke the kiss, leaving the man breathless. She looked at him and suddenly turned his head 180 degrees. A crack, and he died.

In the plane back to Paris, Nefertiti was spread out on a divan.

"Mister Muneaux, could you come here to me please?"

"Yes, of course."

She wiggled her toes in front of his nose.

"Massage my feet."

Marco knelt down and massaged Nefertiti's feet. Next to him were the discarded suede boots. He thought he saw a trace of blood or other fluid which had dried, and a few hairs stuck to its sole.

———————

Pour moi-même, j'aimerais voir les filles en club, ou quelque part où elles pourraient s'amuser, sans tuer tant de gens. En tout cas, merci d'avoir écrit!

And please excuse my French… :-[

[Author]

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