|The Story||The Authors|
|She was six foot four and wearing spike heeled boots that brought her up to almost seven feet. The shining ebony of her leather corset and mini skirt blending into the deep chocolate of her skin so that she appeared almost naked. Jake watched warily as she brought forth the dental instruments. Her hands were emormous and strong looking. Masculine hands. From where she towered over Jake he could see that beneath the miniscule strip of dark leather that passed for her skirt a conspicuous bulge in the satin panties that suggested that what she possessed beneath it was not standard feminine equipment. "Hey!" she bellowed, "You keep your dirty little nose from outta where it don't belong. Yet." Jake shrank. Listen up, honeychile, this aint no Ru Paul bullshit for you. I don't got no make up or keep your man happy tips for you. We got some serious bidness to take care of." And she advanced towards the cowering Jake with a rather nasty set of dental pliers in her hand. "Now open wide hon, Mama's got to work to do. You just be still and open wide. and tell me baby," she giggled,"Is it safe yet?"|
"Now, you was warned, honeydoll, you can't say you wasn't warned from de day you was big enough to ho'd a toofbrush in yo hand, that you gots to take care of yo teef. You gots to brush 'em after ev'ry meal, you gots to avoid them pesky between-meal snacks (not to mention what they'll do to your hips, and believe me, child, I know!) and you gots to floss, ev'ry single day of yo life. Elseways you gets turned over to de Toof Bitch..." |
"But -- what does this have to do with masturbation? Can't we pleaseprettyplease at least be done with one aspect of my poor personal hygiene before going on to the next? Please," whined Jake.
"Oooooh, the dirty parts -- my Favorite!" replied the Tooth Bitch. "Because you see --" and here she reached into the air and pulled down, from out of nowhere, a screen, which snapped right back up, like a frisky pull-shade, causing her to hiss "Bitch!," swaying in her stilletto heels in the broken snowcrust as she gave the pull-handle of the screen a savage yank! This time it stayed put. She looked up then, limping gesturing with her fingers in the night air. "Now, run that -- yes, that's right, you, over there, who did you think I was talking to, honey, Lana Turner? What do I pay you for? To sit on your fat midget ass and loaf? Now, roll it, the cute little film-loopy thing, there's a good slave..."
|Across the street Jake could see the stocky form of a dwarf grumpily busying itself at an ancient film projector. The astute reader has already, of course, recognized this as none other than the mysterious Mr. Tickles, occasional housecat and all-around Priapus-that-no-one-took-seriously-on-account-of-his-diminutive-size. Poor Mr. Tickles, wretched Fate! The monstrous genius of a 20th-Century Donatien-Alphonse-Fran¨ois Marquis de Sade trapped within the extremely limited proportions of a Hervˇ Villachaise. "Say it for your Mistress, dearie, say it!" the Tooth Bitch (whose real name was Esteban) would command halfway through the first of her 3 nightly bottles of Night Train, and poor Mr. Tickles would hang his head, cheeks burning with shame, and croak meekly, "De plane! De plaaane, boss, de plane!" Never had he fallen so low. Never had the fires of his hatred and misanthropy been stoked to so white-hot a glow. But he would wait... the Tooth Bitch would get hers, let there be no mistaking that. With the way she got to drinking by the time a tour had reached its midpoint, she was bound to slip up sonner or later. And when she, instead of proving himself the invaluable lifesaver of yore, he'd give it to her. Boy, would he give it to her. And but good. And as he thought these things to himself, he found that that malevolent little slice of a grin of his (for which we all so love him) had returned to his face. He even began to whistle, as he worked, and the tune he whistled was "Whistle While You Work," and when he realized this he didn't stop, but instead just whistled louder, as if to grace his future revenge with the fairest of winds and the most auspicious of omens.|