Trust Machines - Debbie Does Whatever #150
For the past hour, there has been a recorded video running. A large lava lamp stands on the floor of the bedroom, with purple and green goo moving slowly within it. The blobs never mix, but they brush against each other languorously. From time to time there’s a hint of a blissful face, or a paw, or a tail among the blobs.
In chat, there’s a countdown to the start of the show, noting that the video is from the #144 extended mix, available for download by silver and higher tier members.
The recording cuts out, and in its place there’s a bird’s eye view of a city. Standing among the towers, and towering far above all of them, is a familiar purple kittygirl wearing a simple black bikini. Debbie waves up at the camera. “Hi everyone! Since every last one of you has made the joke at some time or other, we’re making this special show extra-special.”
Debbie gestures to the buildings around her. “Welcome to downtown Dallas. And say hi to my ‘eye in the sky’, Elliot.” The camera bobs.
“Now... what should we do, hm?” Debbie stomps her foot on a small building, crushing it. “Oooh, that was fun. Hey, don’t run away little things!”
Debbie’s hand darts down, and comes up with a handful of tiny wriggling figures. “Oooh, don’t you look like fun.” She uses her other hand to pull her bikini bottoms open, then drops them inside. “Mmmm. Wiggly.”
“Hey Elliot, are there any comments I should handle?”
Elliot’s voice emerges from off camera. “Mostly ‘this can’t be real’ and one ‘Darn it, I looked out my window and she’s not there’.”
“Aww. Way to spoil the illusion.” Debbie reaches down and scoops up more little figures, and holds them up toward the camera. Four tiny rubbery-looking copies of Jenny in various primary colours squirm in her hand. “We’ve got hundreds of these things. What should I do with ‘em?”
Before she gets an answer, Debbie tucks two into each cup of her bikini top. “Mmm. Squirmy.”
“Top suggestion is to eat some. You’ve already done the other fun stuff,” says Elliot.
Debbie pounces on more of the little things, her hip trashing another building in the process. She holds them up, one at a time and lets them dangle from her fingers before dropping them into her maw. The camera moves in for a close-up on the third, and Debbie makes a big show of the swallowing, tracing a fingertip down her throat, following the little figure’s course toward her belly.
She pats her belly, and burps playfully. “Mmm. Tasty. Time to go a hunting...”
Debbie prowls between two buildings, though stealth is... not her thing. A swing of her hips sends one shattering and tumbling, and it takes out two more like dominos.
Another pounce yields more destruction and more wiggly snacks. It doesn’t take very many repeats before every building but one is levelled. The remaining building is remarkably phallic in shape, a round tower with a spherical bulb on the top. Debbie prowls up to it, and it doesn’t even come up to her waist. Even so, it looks far too big to fit.
Debbie does a little striptease around it, tossing her top and bottoms aside after a few spins about the tower. This tower is made of something different from the others, it is sturdy enough to take her weight when she uses it as a fulcrum for her gyrations.
“Well, Reunion Tower, let’s see what you’ve got...” Debbie straddles it, legs wide. She wriggles and squirms, and starts to slowly sink down upon the tower. She groans and pants until the sphere is finally inside her, then starts to pump herself up and down on the tower. The sphere is plainly visible, riding up and down in her belly. She pumps and moans until her knees buckle with a wail. The sphere rides up higher into her body, apparently lodging somewhere in her ribcage.
“And that,” Debbie manages weakly after a few moments, “is how Debbie Does Dallas.” She wriggles in place, tries to stand, fails. The crushed Jenny-bodies slicking the soles of her feet have made traction tricky.
After two more tries she sends a despairing look up at the camera. She tries to speak, but the sphere is lodged against her lungs. The faintest of squeaks come out.
Elliot’s voice from off camera asks, “Deb? Are you OK?”
Debbie shakes her head weakly.
“Do you need a hand?”
She nods.
An enormous hand, bigger across than she is tall, reaches into the image. It’s incomprehensibly huge, each finger is bigger than the tallest of skyscrapers, not that any are left to compare them to. A finger and thumb tuck under her arms and lift her up gently. Debbie hangs against them, panting softly.
“Want me to try to get you off?”
Debbie snickers. “Done enough of that already, thanks. How long now?”
“Four minutes.”
Debbie gets her legs under herself, kneeling on either side of the tower. “Just lower me, I can manage that long. That damn sphere was a bitch going in, I’d rather just leave it there.”
“You’re the boss.” The hand retreats, and Debbie stabilizes on her knees.
“Time to pull the curtain back,” says Debbie. “Though I imagine you’ve guessed...”
The camera lifts up even higher, and around the edges of the city a familiar bedspread comes into view. As it backs away from the rubble of downtown Dallas, it’s clear that the chunk of the city Debbie dominated was at best three feet on a side. Each block was only a few inches long, and the buildings were little more than that tall. Debbie waves cheerfully from her perch, visible now as a tiny doll in a tinier playset.
Time expires, and suddenly Debbie’s familiar human form is sprawled on the bed. What’s left of the city model vanishes under her rump with a crackling cruch. “Oops. Sorry, sweetie. When’s Gina due back?”
“Later tonight. We can go restore her after the show,” says Elliot. “I should ask the same of my girlfriend.”
Debbie gestures toward the desk, and Elliot swaps the feed back to the main camera. He sets the minicam down on the desk as Debbie fetches a small box from off-screen. “Here you go. We ended up with way more of her than we needed. She’s good for another eight hours or so.”
Debbie pops open the lid angling the box so the camera can see what’s inside it. The box is half-full of what looks like brightly coloured grains of sand. Except the grains are squirming and moving.
Elliot stares into the box. “How... how many?”
“I don’t know. Hundreds and thousands.”
“What am I supposed to do with that many of her?”
Debbie pushes him back toward the bed, until he trips and falls. “I could pour them all over you and let her explore. Or we could just take the box back to the Venn Machine. More than half are still in here, I think. You could probably restore her.”
“She’d never forgive me. Pour.”
Debbie does so, making sure to get Elliot nice and evenly coated with the colourful sprinkles. “Have fun!”
She turns away from the display, back to the camera. A quick dance later her t-shirt and bra are gone. Breasts swinging free she leans in toward the camera. “That’s all from us. G’night!”
The video goes dark.