Page 20 of Total Lunar Eclipse
“My bad. Whatcha Nodes up to?”
“We’re going to sssssssssssecure you for Moon.”
“Like how the minor gods are secured?”
“Yesssssssssssssssss.”
“Gotcha. When are you going to do this?”
They don’t answer me. Instead, both rush me, their heads swaying from side to side as they run. The sight might be hilarious if it weren’t filled with deadly intent. When they are a few feet from me, I do the only thing I can think of: I focus on their sad, flat, little chests. They would look so much better if they had bigger tatas. And a tan. And a better attitude. But definitely bigger tits would be a number one improvement.
No sooner than I think this and their chests start to. . .expand.
Both creepos come to an abrupt stop and look down in confusion. It quickly transforms into horror as their breasts grow into nice, perky C cups. And then Dolly Parton-sized melons. And then, like Violet Beauregard, those suckers just keep blowing up, until the Nodes topple over, weighed down by their own pendulous boobs. Like a couple of weeble-wobbles, their bodies dangle precariously over their quadruple Zs. It’s a train wreck watching them struggle to stand. I want to look away, but why would I? Also, I’ve changed my mind. The Nodes need to look into breast reduction.
They’re hissing like a couple of actual cats and I can see when they use their magic to counteract mine. Their breasts go from boulders to nothing in an instant and the two women crash into one another. Their foreheads collide, and the Nodes hit one another with such force that they knock themselves unconscious. Huh, gotta love Karma (when she’s not getting even with me, that is). I stare at their limp bodies and try not to laugh. From their necks to their navels, their skin is marred with horrendous stretchmarks.
Oopsie-daisy.
Well, since they are conveniently unconscious, I should probably secure them so they can’t do any more damage when they wake up. I conjure up some duct tape. . .with a leopard print. Fitting, since they are Siamese bitches. I mean kittens. I get to work wrapping the tape around their bodies, making sure to bind their wrists and ankles tightly. I may have gotten carried away and mummified them a bit. I cringe looking at them. Getting it out of their long, black hair might be a bitch.
I step back to admire my handiwork. . .
But it’s missing something.
I snap my fingers, thinking of the perfect finishing touch.
I quickly manifest a black permanent marker and step up to Node #1. I doodle a little here and there on whatever exposed skin is left after her duct taping. I hum a jolly tune as I move on to Node #2. I’m so engrossed in my work that I don’t hear the footsteps behind me. It’s not until someone clears their throat that I swirl around to find Caed and Khal standing there, staring at me with their usual ‘what the fuck has she done now’ faces.
“Zahra. . . what the fuck have you done now?” Caed asks with a wicked quirk of his brow.
Damn soul bond, letting him read my thoughts. He’s such a little smartass. I hope he sees me ninja pegging his ass again in my head. From his frown, I think I’ve succeeded.
“Nothing, just drawing dicks all over the Nodes’ bodies while they’re asleep.”
Khal steps towards North Node and South Node for a closer look.
“Are those squiggly lines supposed to be cum?”
“Duh,” I answer.
“M-hmm, and just for clarification, do the ones on their faces say ‘Jesus’ and ‘Christ’?”
“Uh. . . yes, they do. I couldn’t fit in the H.”
“I know I’m going to regret this, but why the fuck would there be an H?”
“For Harold. That’s Jesus’ middle name.”
Khal looks to Caed for confirmation.
“Don’t look at me,” he announces. “You know how fucked up Earth religions are. Who knows what they’re teaching nowadays. Besides, I think the bigger question iswhydid you write that in ‘marker cum’ on them?”
“So they would be compelled by him,” I explain.
“That makes sense,” Caed approves.
I beam at him.
