Tyler’s Flattened Heroines #1:

Moviehouse Madness

Bonnie and I had been running a sweet little deal out of the movie theater. Sure we look like sweetness and light in those cute lil’ usher outfits, but we’d been making out like bandits.
See, we put little white packets at the bottom of the cup, topped it off with popcorn, and took the money. What with movie prices the way they are, who would notice a few extra bucks? The theater was always so clean, too, because our patrons took along their own cups!
We knew it wouldn’t last forever, but there didn’t seem to be any chance of the cops catching on. And we had the complete trust of the owner, a nice old guy who always treated us right.
You can imagine our surprise last Thursday night when in walks Ms. Moonlight.
She was the city’s latest costumed crimefighter, and, judging from the papers, spent most of her time whaling on gangs. I had seen her on television once - leaping around effortlessly as she wiped out the South Side Tigers.
And now she was here.
Believe me, television doesn’t do her justice.
She was black, with skin the color of a Nestle bar and long flowing black hair. She was built like one of those fitness models - you know, athletic arms and legs, supermodel tits and ass?
She filled out her little suit very well. The whole package was stuffed into a white leotard about two sizes two small. It was cut high on her hips and very low over her boobs. Two more triangular cutouts came down from her shoulders and ended almost at her nipples, and two big triangles cut out of the sides made it hard to tell if the outfit had started as one piece, or was just a bikini fastened together.
She had a little moon, outlined in rhinestones, a few inches below her belly button, and another on her right breast. She had fancy boots and gloves, also white with rhinestones, that probably cost more than my week’s salary. The legal one, at least.
I don’t think she suspected us; as I said, we looked too cute and all-American in those red velvet uniforms. She did know something was going on, though, and asked to look around.
Bonnie led her into the auditorium.
While her big brown eyes adjusted to the dark, I carefully took the pole that held the rope at the candy counter, and slowly lifted it over my head.
Bonnie saw what I was up to. Good. No way I wanted to tackle this tough chick alone.
I bit my lip - this had better hurt her, or she’d knock the crap out of us. One, I don’t like getting punched, and two, that would be the end of our little drug scam.
“It’s me or you, sweets,” I thought as I brought it down hard on her skull.
THWACK!
“Oongh!’ she grunted.
My God, she was still standing up!
I think I was in shock. You’d think she’d at least fall over!
Bonnie had a better view - the bimbo’s eyes were almost closed and she wore a stupid, dazed expression. Bonnie took advantage by slugging her in the gut, before she could tighten up her tummy - the followed that with a left that spun her around toward me.
Now I got a good look at her as I swung the metal pole like a bat - wham! Right in the tits!
Groaning, she tumbled backward over a row of seats. She was upside down in the folding seat, her shoulders and head resting where your butt would go, her legs up in the air.
She moaned and lolled her head back and forth, groggily trying to regain her senses.
As if.
With speed that astounded even me, I grabbed the flashlight, that heavy metal job we use to usher patrons to their seats, and clocked her across the forehead.
“Sweet dreams, sister,” I grunted as the metal thudded on her skull.
“Ohhh,” she moaned - but didn’t go out.
I punched her in her right boob. Ha. Take that, supertits.
Bonnie joined in, and in seconds we were hitting her with punch after punch, our fists crashing off her head and bouncing off her boobs. It took us awhile to realize that she was totally out of it.
I looked at Bonnie. We were both breathing hard.
We had knocked her out!
I took hold of her big brown boob and tucked it back into her little spandex suit. Seeing another woman’s tits were hardly a turn on, but punching them into pudding? That, I gotta admit, I enjoyed the hell out of.
“Now what?” I breathed.
“Heh,” Bonnie said. “You see how bruised that tit was?”
“Bonnie! We gotta open soon - we’ll have to keep her until then. Find some rope or something.”
“Fuck that,” Bonnie said, picking the pole up again.
“What are you -”
Then I saw. The heroine’s legs were spread wide as she slumped, upside down in the chair.
Her eyelids began to flicker, then -
Whuuckkk! Right between her legs!
A sultry “ooooohhhhh” escaped her lips.
I winced, involuntarily covering my own crotch - that had to hurt.
“Now she’s finished,” Bonie smirked.
Oh, she was through, all right - limp as a rag doll. I poked her bruised titty - no response.
We dragged her gorgeous bod back behind the stage - one of those old style theaters, you know? We weren’t exactly being careful as we dragged her across the stairs, either.
“The show’s gonna start in twenty minutes,” I hissed.
“Don’t worry,” Bonnie said, wrapping a rope tightly around under the unconscious cutie’s tits. “This babe’s gonna stick around for the feature.”
Bonnie pushed aside a sandbag, and as the bag fell the helpless heroine was lifted into the rafters.
Bonnie wrapped the rope around her and up she went into the rafters.
“What if she wakes up?” I said, worried.
“Ah, she’s fucked. Lookit her - sleepin’ like a baby. That sock in the twat did her in!”
“I still don’t like it,” I said as we walked up front to open for the evening show. “After the second rail I’m going up on the catwalk to work her over. We’ll have to keep her out until we decide what to do with her.”
It took us a couple days to figure something out. In the meantime, we’d go up where Ms. Moonlight hung and use her gorgeous bod as a punching bag. We couldn’t keep doing this, so thank God Bonnie’s calls finally paid off.
Late one night we dragged her helpless ass to the railroad overpass, down on Seventh.
“This is gonna net us a cool quarter mil,” Bonnie chuckled.
When the Overland Express came by, slowing though town, we dropped our pretty package onto the roof. Ms. Moonlight was carried off into the night.
“They’ll pick her up in an hour,” Bonnie crowed, “Then wire us the money.”
“What if… they don’t give us the money?”
“Big deal - bruise-boobs was the only one who knew about our deal. We can go back to the theater and make lots of money.”
We walked back, very happy.

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