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but...

But before you can reach the device, your boobs jiggling, the blonde in your body sees you racing toward her (him?) and, as though it were all in slow motion puts the pieces all together. Her body. Your body. The device she's dropped. You racing toward her. The device. You. The decive. The device. The device. The device. And then, before you can reach her, she (he?) picks it up and points it at you. "I don't know what this thing does," you hear your voice say, "but I am certain that whatever it has done it can certainly stop you and them," motioning at her boobs, "from moving."

She looks down. Scans the device, adjusts something, and points it at her body, you, your body, you, your boobs, and then presses the switch that causes you to stop in midmotion, mid-boobswing, mid-everything because, in the end she, regardless of hair color, or appearance, is obviously smarter than you are. And because she is smarter than you are she has figured out the device in such a way as leaves you stuck in mid motion, one breast swing in one direction, the other in another direction, and everyone around seeming to ignore the whole thing.

"And now that I have your attention," she says, "let's see what else we can do with this thing."

Written by an anonymous author

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