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From: CobaltJade@aol.com
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Subject: {ASSM} Anniv-Flash: Amazon Armor, by Cobalt Jade
X-Original-Subject: Aniv - Flash: Amazon Armor, by Cobalt Jade
Date: Fri, 10 Nov 2000 07:10:07 -0500
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Amazon Armor
by Cobalt Jade (cobaltjade@aol.com)
"How can you take that crap seriously?" she said.
"I don't, I just like looking at it. You're an artist, you should know."
"I'm a fine artist," she said, with emphasis on the *fine.* She glanced
over his shoulder at the book he was so absorbed in: Great Artists of
Fantasy. Page after page of half-undressed, lushly figured warrior
woman and half-undressed, lushly muscled warrior men. She sniffed.
"The men have more muscles, but the woman have bigger tits."
" 'I never go to see a movie where the man's tits are bigger than the
woman's,' " he said, quoting Groucho Marx.
"I could do a better job," she said, flipping through the pages. "Hell, any
decent artist could."
"What makes you say that?" he said.
"Because these pictures are ridiculous. These people are supposed to be
fighting for their lives, yet they're either posing like beefcake or
surreally detached. Look at this chick being attacked by the dragon.
She's lying there like she's on a towel at the beach, staring disjointedly
at the sky like someone dumped a glass of cold water on her stomach."
"Notice his claw is almost, but not quite, touching her nipple."
"Ha ha, very funny," she said. "And what's with the chains? One goes
around her neck and the other between her legs, but they don't seem to
be attached to anything."
"The one between her legs goes to a pierced clitty, obviously."
"Oh, you're awful! But the angle is all wrong."
"I think those pictures are turning you on."
"Titian turns me on, and, sometimes, Klimt. This stuff, no. It's so
obviously fake, so obviously pandering to some adolescent role-playing
mentality. Now the chick on this page is supposed to be an amazon, but
she has silver toenail polish on, fer Chrissakes! Where'd she get it, the
downtown Hyboria five-and-dime? Readers of fantasy books don't want
a picture-perfect representation of their fantasies; they want
something indistinct, blurred; they want to dream, to fill in the blank
spaces with their imagination. They want emotion and drama, not
pinpoint accuracy. Which is why those ten perfectly painted toenails
don't cut it. And those metal pastie-things over her nipples. How the
hell do they stay on?
"Like this," he said, using both sets of fingers and thumbs to give her a
good, hard tweak.
"Ow! You're really asking for it. And what about those stainless-steel
thong panties? It must hurt like hell when she walks."
"Au contraire. There's a plus-sized dildo in the proper place, and she
uses her vaginal muscles to keep it in...which creates a fair of amount of
lubrication, and the suction ensures it stays *very* snug..."
"Eep," she said in an unconvincing protest.
"And the thong is kept in place with a second dildo, slightly smaller,
that penetrates her here..."
She let the book drop to the floor.
END
This work is copyrighted 2000 by Cobalt Jade (Cobaltjade@aol.com). This
work may be be freely distributed over electronic media provided no fee
is charged for its use. Charging a fee for this story, or publishing
without author credit or this notice violates my copyright.
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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