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Book: The Nomads and the Mind Machine
Chapter 2: Breasts and Gut-Folds

The explosion rocked the ship, sending it careening up and smashing into the top-level of a skyscraper.

“Fuckin’ bitch!”

Ignoring the damage reports on his screens, Ross Mental yanked his control stick to the right and pushed forwards.  His ship, the Morbid, rolled and then dived over the apex of the tower.  Ahead, rushing towards the streets three kilometres down, was Mama Flesh’s ship.

The bounty hunter frowned.  “That fat fuckin’ whore has had it now!”  He touched his weapons panel and squeezed his control stick.  He watched through the forward view port as a flash of energy leapt towards to the whore’s ship.  It missed.  In the dark street far below a brief blinding explosion flared.

Ross Mental shouted at his ship.  “That was fuckin’ spot on!  Why did it fuckin’ miss?”

The Morbid responded.  “THE CLOSE-PROXIMITY DETONATION AND COLLISION 17 SECONDS AGO CAUSED A MINOR SENSOR MISALIGNMENT.”

“Then fuckin’ compensate!”

“COMPENSATING…”

Ahead, Mama Flesh’s ship was pulling out of its dive and heading for a stream of dense air traffic.  Ross Mental operated his weapons panel - another lock.  He fired.

Another flash of energy leapt forwards.  In a burst of light and flame the back of the whore’s ship blew apart.  Burning debris scattered in all directions causing nearby traffic to swerve and dive.

Ross Mental laughed as he watched Mama Flesh’s ship lurch out of control – a fine sight against the backdrop of dark towers.  The ship headed down on an erratic course.

The bounty hunter decelerated, dropping through the layer of dispersing air traffic.  Ahead the whore’s ship was rocking wildly.  It skimmed the top of a building, sending a shower of rubble into the air.  The Morbid shuddered as it passed through the cloud of shattered stone.

“Time to end this.”  Ross Mental muttered.  Curving his ship around a crowded collection of antennae, the bounty hunter fired once more.  The back of Mama Flesh’s ship took another direct hit, enveloping the whore’s vessel in an expanding ball of fire.  What was left of the ship began to plummet. 

Ross Mental punched the ceiling of his cockpit.  “Ha!  The fuckin’ slag’s going down like never before!”  He pushed forwards on his control stick.  Far below, a huge glass-domed building glistened in the darkness.  It was in the direct path of the whore’s ship.  “This is going to be so fuckin’ rewarding!”

With a trail of dense smoke billowing behind, Mama Flesh’s ship smashed into the side of the dome, shattering a wide section of the crystal-like structure.  Huge sections broke off and fell into the dome’s interior.

But Mama Flesh’s ship did not fall any further.  It was jammed tightly between two immense girders.

Pulling his ship out of its vertical dive, Ross Mental reduced speed and skimmed over the ruined dome.  Right ahead was the battered wreckage of Mama Flesh’s ship - only its forward section remained intact.  It was face down, and wedged precariously over the vast space beneath the dome – an art gallery of impressive and decadent proportions.  Far below thousands of suddenly terrified art aficionados were running along the balconies and terraces of the gallery with their arms waving and cloaks billowing.

Maneuvering the Morbid into the broken dome, the Ross Mental positioned his ship next to the whore’s.  “Morbid, hover here.  Open the starboard hatch.”

“POSITION SET AND FIXED.  HOVERING.  STARBOARD HATCH OPEN.”

The foul-mouthed bounty hunter pulled himself out of his seat and stepped out of the cockpit.  He entered the starboard airlock and stood at the open hatch, momentarily startled by the thick heat and humidity of the air outside.  The frequent gusts of wind and a thin drizzle of rain provided no relief.  He looked up at the mass of giant towers that surrounded him, many penetrating the thick gloomy cloud layer that perpetually shrouded Repugnius.  “I hate this fuckin’ planet!”

A few metres away the scorched and heavily damaged ship of Mama Flesh smoldered like a poorly electrocuted mental patient.  With a thud a wide hatch on the side of the ship burst open, the explosives of its emergency opening system sending a cloud of white smoke and sparks into the air.  The heavy door creaked on its damaged hinges for a moment, and then fell into the depths of the gallery below.

Ross Mental watched as a hefty figure appeared at the ship’s doorway.  It was, of course, Mama Flesh. 

The whore, panting like a hound on heat, gripped the sides of the doorway with her lacerated sausage-like fingers.  She looked at the bounty hunter and forced a smile.  “Finally you bring me down.  Quite an achievement for you, although I’m disappointed it took you a month to do so.”  She took a deep breath, her massive chest heaved.  Her voice was strained.  “I expected more from a high-class bounty hunter such as you.”

Ross Mental struggled to control his disgust at the sight of the whore.  Although he had seen many images of her, this was the first time he had seen her in the flesh.  And her flesh was some of the most disgusting he had ever laid eyes on.  Her pallid bare arms and legs were as thick as tree trunks, and covered in scars and lacerations.  Coarse layers of cellulite rippled across her upper thighs.  Her black leather-clad midsection was a mass of uneven bulges and folds squashed flat by the tightness of her clothing.  Her shaved scalp did nothing to improve her looks.

The bounty hunter grabbed pulse rifle from the side of his hatchway and raised it.  “Shut the fuck up!”

Mama Flesh continued to smile, her thick makeup almost cracking under the strain.  As she spoke her multiple chins wobbled like jelly.  “I see you are captivated by my body.”  She caressed herself with her left hand.  “Arresting me is not your real aim, is it?”

Ross Mental frowned.  “Of course it fuckin’ is, you monstrous slut!”

The fat whore shook her head.  “There’s no more need for lies.”  She wheezed, and then moved her hand under the folds of her gut and between her legs.  She licked her lips.  “You want this, don’t you?”

Ross Mental fired.  A blast of energy blew away a large chunk of the doorway that Mama Flesh stood in.

The whore staggered back and then steadied herself.  She gasped.  “I touched a nerve.  It seems I’m right.”  She began to unzip the front of her clothing.

Ross Mental was not impressed.  “Stop that!”  He shook his head.  “You fuckin’ quadra-whores are a fuck-off tease-ridden nightmare!”

Mama Flesh smiled.  She continued unzipping herself.  “So you think I’m a quadra-whore?”  She shook her head.  “You are wrong.”  She finished unzipping.  “And you will be so pleased about it.”  She opened up her leather clothing.  She shrugged, shaking the clothing from her shoulders.  The clothing fell to the floor.  Apart from her knee-length black boots, she was naked.

The foul-mouthed bounty hunter’s mouth hung open as he gazed at the horrendous sight before him.  Instead of four breasts, as he had expected, Mama Flesh had ten – each with a bovine-sized nipple, and all were pendulous enough to hang down to her thighs.  “You’re a fuckin’ deca-whore!”

 Mama Flesh laughed.  “I am!”  She said proudly.  She began to sway her body side to side.  Her breasts swung, occasionally bumping into each other with loud and sweaty slaps.  “But I am also much more.”  She reached down and gathered her breasts and gut-folds in her fat arms.  She lifted everything up as high as possible.

Ross Mental’s limit had been reached.  “You filthy fuckin’ slapper!”  He fired, blasting off the whore’s massive left leg.

Mama Flesh screamed and fell, jamming herself at the base of the doorway.  She watched as her severed leg tumbled down into the gallery.  She looked up; a venomous expression now filled her face.  “Bastard!”  Drool trickled across her chins.

The bounty hunter smiled.  “That’s more like it!  Now shut the fuck up and listen!”  He stood proudly and spoke the words all bounty hunters ache to say.  “For a multitude of genital suffocations and viciously perverted attacks on government officials, and not least the public rape of Rubian Esoneguh, Assistant Governor of Repugnius, I arrest you in the name of the Superior Beings of the Great Hall of the Palace of Amino.  You’re going to face the full fuckin’ strength of total Amino justice for your sickening acts!  Fuckin’ awesome!”

Mama Flesh sighed.  She raised her right hand and fiddled with something unseen behind the doorway’s frame.  “I cannot let you take me alive.”

“You have no fuckin’ choice, blubber bitch!”

The deca-whore smiled once again.  “Your ship has no hatchway big enough for me, bounty hunter.  You literally cannot capture me.”

The bounty hunter looked at the mass of flab that was Mama Flesh.  He nodded.  “On that point I can’t fuckin’ disagree.  I’ll need to arrange some other transport for you.”

“There is no time for that.”  The whore said.  A repetitive bleeping sound started.

“What the fuck is that?!”

Ross Mental’s ship, the Morbid, made a timely announcement.  “A CLASS-SIX SUPER-FUSION OVERLOAD IS IN PROGRESS ON THE TARGET VESSEL.”

The bounty hunter yelled.  “You fuckin’ lard cow!”  He fired, blasting off Mama Flesh’s top right breast.  It flew into the air and slammed against the ceiling of her ship’s doorway before falling back and landing on her face.  She moaned and pushed the severed mammary away.  Scowling, she shouted.  “You will not take me alive, bounty hunter!  Accept that fact!”

“I fuckin’ will not!”  He turned and operated a control panel in the airlock.  A screen lit up showing a detailed scan of the deca-whore’s ship.  “Morbid, show me where the overload is!”

“THE CLASS-SIX SUPER-FUSION OVERLOAD IS LOCATED WITHIN THE VESSEL’S SELF-DESTRUCT MECHANISM.”

A red circle appeared on the scan, right below the ship’s cockpit.

“How do I fuckin’ stop it?”

“IT CANNOT BE STOPPED.  WARNING: THE OVERLOAD IS REACHING A CRITICAL LEVEL.  ADVISE IMMEDIATE WITHDRAWAL.”

“Fuck!”

A siren sounded outside.  Ross Mental looked.  Several local police air cars had turned up.

Ross Mental activated his communicator.  “I’m Ross Mental – a second-class bounty hunter of extreme moods and potent…”

The communicator crackled.  “I recognize your ship, bounty hunter.  I am district chief of police Fran Biskettin-Dogbal.  What is going on here?

Local police annoyed the bounty hunter intensely.  “Use your fuckin’ sensors, Fran!  That ship over there is about to detonate!  Evacuate this vicinity immediately!”

What is the identity of that revolting fat…

“Just do what I fuckin’ say!”

Of course.  Anything to assist a…

Ross Mental silenced the channel.  “That flabby fuckin’ bitch is not going escape justice this easily.”  He turned and opened a utility cabinet in far side of the airlock.  Fumbling around he grabbed two grappling hooks and ropes.  “Fuckin’ perfect!”  He tied both ropes to a handhold and then turned to the open hatch.  Outside, the police vehicles had dispersed.  Local air traffic was flying away from the scene.  The evacuation was already underway.

A voice, mocking but strained, spoke.  “You had better leave too, bounty hunter.”

“I intend to shortly.”  Swinging one of the grappling hooks above his head, Ross Mental threw it hard.  Mama Flesh screamed as the hook landed on her right butt-cheek.  The bounty hunter pulled hard.  The hook bit deep into the whore’s flesh.

Mama Flesh yelped.  “Bastard!  What are you doing?!”

Ross Mental threw the second grappling hook.  This time the hook landed on the deca-whore’s shoulder.  Another hard yank by the bounty hunter sent the hook plunging into the whore’s clavicle.

The whore shrieked.  “Leave, you bastard!  Leave!”

Ross Mental grinned.  “OK, I fuckin’ will!”  He turned to the airlock’s control panel.  “Morbid, two-gee acceleration – up and north.  Now!”

With a deep rumble the Morbid ascended

Ross Mental watched with dark delight a Mama Flesh was dragged out of her ship.  The flab-infested naked whore was now hanging by two hooks beneath the ship, and she was writhing in obvious agony.  As the vast cityscape fell away beneath, the bounty hunter laughed.  “Fuckin’ excellent!”

And then a flash brighter than any sun washed away the view.

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