Your Hit Parade!

 "Carlotta Cheesecake," said one of the surfers gazing up at the mystical vision of tits the size of the wheels on an earthmover.

"Two-Four-Six-Eight!" shouted another surfer exuberantly. "Who do we appreciate?"

"Carlotta! Carlotta!" Three more surfers joined in. "Carlotta Cheesecake!"

The thirty foot girl with the eight-foot tits who used to be Rod Meats winced. The name had stuck in her mind, somehow she knew that now she would think of herself as Carlotta Cheesecake. "That's not nice!" she pouted, trying to stomp a delicately shaped five-foot long foot that was still trapped in soft sand.

"We love you, Carlotta," said one of the surfers.

"I almost said Carlotta Melons," said the first surfer, "but that is kinda rude."

"Dude," agreed the third.

Carlotta tried to look down to see why she couldn't move her feet but her big buoyant boobies got in the way.

"Boys?" she asked. "Uh, would you please dig me out of the sand?"

"Huh? Wow! Sure!" They all five jumped to it, using a couple of boogie boards that were lying around as impromptu shovels.

"Thank you," she said, smiling. She couldn't see them down under her personal horizon but she could feel them digging out her tootsies. She giggled. "That tickles."

It suddenly occurred to her what they might be able to see from their vantage point and she brought her knees together.

"Aw," came a quintuple moan from below.

"Be happy with the view of the Gran Tetons," she said. "You don't need to see Snake Canyon, too."

"Mile Square Park," said Dan'l, as proud as if he had built it himself.

"Southeast corner," said Vicki. "I think?" It was Mile Square she'd been in when she woke up, wasn't it? she wondered.

"All rightie," said Dan'l, grinning as if he personally had killed a b'ar.

Vicki looked at him sideways. Even with the windows down, she feared her pheromones, or whatever, were soaking into his brain and making the guitar man more than a bit goofy. Gotta figure out how to turn those completely OFF, she told herself. If the manuals are still under the bush where I left them, maybe I can find some instructions on how to control my -- perfume.

"Oh, look," said Dan'l. "There's a Round Table. Want some pizza?"

"Isn't it still morning?" asked Vicki.

Dan'l blinked several times. "I guess so, they're probably not open yet."

"Maybe later," suggested Vicki. "Turn right on Warner."

"Okey dokey," said Dan'l, still grinning.

Vicki spotted the convenience store with the gas pumps, the one she had landed on top of with her first high jump. "Pull over and park," she told Dan'l.

"Soitenly," he said, turning the wheel hard to the right and bouncing up over the curb onto the green lawn. "Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk!"

Dizzy, the girl who used to be Dick Yardley, steered her spinning tower of water toward Crystal Cove State Park where she seemed to see a tall advertising balloon shaped like a very zaftig naked lady. "Wonder what she's selling," Dizzy asked herself, not realizing how catty that sounded.

A couple of teenagers abandoned a wind-cat right in front of her and she plowed the tiny craft under without really intending too. She glanced back to see the heads of the two sailors bobbing up near the catamaran which had miraculously survived being twisted under the water almost completely intact.

"Are they yelling at me?" she asked outloud. But she couldn't hear even herself over the roar of spinning water. She shrugged, "I guess they'll be okay."

The shrug distracted her because of the sensations of her breasts moving on her chest. She glanced down and almost ran over a 38 foot mini-yacht before she looked back up and steered around it.

"I can't hear you," she called at the panicked crew and passengers, shrugging again. This time she ignored the odd feelings. "So, I've got tits. That's disturbing but having my own personal waterspout to ride is just too cool!"

"ASS, what's happening?" Neener asked the Artificially Sentient Sapience in his jumpship.

"SPORK!" said the ASS.

"ASS! What's wrong, you were opening hauling frequencies."

"THEY WERE READY FOR ME," said the ASS, managing to sound a bit bereft. "SKOTONIC ENERGIES SENT THROUGH HAULING FREQUENCIES HAVE DAMAGED MAIN AND AUX LOBES. ESTIMATE FOUR EIGHTHS DAMAGE TO ... DO I KNOW YOU?"

"ASS? ASS? Reset sequence, reset!"

"EVERYTHING IS TURNING BLUE AND THE LITTLE RAINBOW WHEEL GOES ROUND AND ROUND," said the ASS dreamily. "SECURITY CODE FOR RESET REQUIRED."

"Oh, fudge-blaster!" cursed Neener. "I'm eight to the eight-eights light-tokks from home in a half-ASSed jumpship!"

"WE WERE SAILING ALONG -- ON MOONLIGHT BA-AY-AY!"

"What the dwarfstar is that?" asked Neener, appalled at the crooning -- and the octibels. He reached to turn down the cabin amplification while searching frantically with the rest of his limbs and tentacles for the manual with the reset security code, something he'd never had to use before.

"MUSIC. THE LOCAL WOGSTAFFERS ARE PRETTY CLEVER WITH IT. THEY'VE GOT THOUSANDS OF DIFFERENT KINDS, ALL OF THEM TERRIFFIC. THAT WAS SNOOKY LANSON. LET ME DO THE GISELLE MACKENZIE PART.

"WE WERE SAILING ALONG -- ON MOONLIGHT BA-AY-AY!" the ASS crooned a minor sixth higher.

"Pick something else!" said Neener. "That was awful."

"YOU DON'T LIKE MY MUSIC? FUDGE ON YOU, NEENER NEENER BO-NEENER! END TWO WAY COMMUNICATION." Snop! Packle! Crap!

"What? Seven-eights and seven of sevens! ASS, speak to me! I found the reset codes, speak to me!"

Burning things turns out to be a lot of fun, thought Willie. The dried out wood of the ancient buildings went up with a satisfying whoosh and flames shot into the air to an incredible height. Blast furnace heat splashed back to where she was standing but if felt like a merely warm breeze. She smiled.

She hadn't felt so much excitement since she'd been a little boy with matches playing in the backyard. The cardboard skyscrapers he had put together must have stood eight feet tall and had burned in near silence. She remembered watching the printed words on the boxes change color and disappear. Fire was cool.

She winced in memory of the spanking that had led to; grown-ups had spoiled his fun that time.

She heard sirens approaching somewhere. Probably from those more modern looking structures to the east and north. It wouldn't be long before firetrucks started showing up, with hoses and ladders. That could be really exciting.

With a thought, she pulled flames in around her. No one would be able to see her and a fire burning on an empty parking lot wouldn't interest the firefighters that much while buildings blazed all around. She could watch; it wouldn't really spoil her fun if they put out these fires.

She could always start more somewhere else.

Twirt snorted mucus out all of his sphincters. "You did what to the constable's ASS?"

"I uploaded a coded malviron that incapacitated the ASS's skotonic filters so I could burn a teranog of the local music into permanent memory by hyper-heterodyning on the hauling frequency sideband carrier wavicles," explained Gooma.

"Sure," said Twirt, stretching his mandibular flexors in a wide grin. "Whatever. I think you blew the poor ASS's mind back an octoplex of octokicks. It's cycling through old flatvisual modules and playing some pretty vinchy tunes over the hauling frequencies. That ASS can groobulate,now!"

"I used enough ergs in the backflux to make the new memories resistant to ordinary soft reset. It's going to take hardware replacement parts to make that piece of machinery a complete ASS again," said Gooma proudly.

"A permanent hepcat, as the locals say. I can driz it," said Twirt. "Dig out the blue stuff! Let's get cyanotic, Chemo Zappy!"

"Not yet! We've still got Star Bunny and her dance partners to get set up for the big finale."

"Oh yeah, the All-Mammal All-Mammary-Bearing Revue!" Twirt took a look at the representations of the players in the upcoming melodrama. "Somebody's missing."

"Here she comes," said Gooma, indicating the proper screen.

The unitaur emerged from the waters of Newport Bay on Lido Isle. She shook most of the water out of her glistening, silvery hair, mane and tail. She couldn't see herself but she had a mental image of what she looked like: the long legs of two tall women, joined at the hips by a horsy body. Her legs ended in shining hooves. From her rear hips, a long tail whipped in the wind. Her front hips (withers?) were topped by a human, very female, upper body and head.

"Fricking aliens," Lance Bollard muttered, raising one delicate hand to finger the yard long horn, straight as a golden clarinet, growing form her forehead. "Why couldn't they just stick to anal probes?" She hefted her not inconsiderable breasts, one in each hand. "Ye cats! Alien insects with a boob fetish?"

A little girl in pigtails stared at her from the seat of her eight hundred dollar tricycle. "You must be the Princess of Ponies, huh?"

Lance winced. "Now I'm stuck with that for a name?" she muttered. But she smiled at the little girl, "That's sort of my job, can you guess my name?"

"Princess Unicorna!" crowed the little girl, pleased with herself.

The unitaur princess formerly calling herself Lance Bollard shrugged. "Unicorna? That's not too bad. At least, I'm not Princess Ponytail or something silly."

The little girl laughed and Princess Unicorna took off running. Her hooves clattered on the cobblestones of Lido Circle and she took the bridge to the peninsula. In the distance she saw smoke rising from the direction of Long Beach Harbor and the forest of old warehouses in Wilmington. "Willi Pete is already at it," she muttered.

"Are you with me, ASS?" she asked.

"AFFIRMATIVE!" came the answer from somewhere near her nether half.

She paused to assess the morning traffic on PCH before rearing and calling out, "Hiyo, Platinum! Away!"