NOTE: I've been a fan of George Tasker's pulpy, over-the-top styled stories. He's kindly given me permission to write a story set in one of his universes, using his Agent Hooter and Agent Slut characters. The gist of the below story came to me in a dream and I felt obliged to write it and flesh it out. But this quick two-parter isn't slowing me down from completing the Six Times a Day series. Thanks a lot, George!
Thoughts are marked with italics. Thanks to DD, Dhin, and OmegaZone for proofreading. This is a very fantastical story and should have no relation to the treatment or behavior of women in real life.
The middle-aged Doctor Johnson sat in his office, talking with a teenaged patient named Thomas. Although Thomas had come in so the doctor could look at a fungal infection on his foot, that wasn't what the two of them were discussing. They were discussing the patient with the curious name of Agent Hooters. The doctor explained that not only did she look exactly like Anna Nicole Smith, but she was willing to engage in sex on the flimsiest of excuses. She'd been so sexually willing that she'd quickly wore the elder doctor out, so he was turning to the teenaged patient, Thomas, for help. The slightly nerdy and completely inexperienced teen could scarcely believe his luck and of course agreed to do his best to sexually satisfy their bosomy patient.
The doctor was just finishing an explanation of everything that had happened so far in his office that morning to an extremely surprised Thomas when Debbie, the doctor's cute, spiky blonde-haired nurse, came in.
"Doctor! You won't believe it. Today is your lucky day."
The doctor smiled, glad that his nurse was at least tolerating his behavior. "Don't I know it?!" He winked at Thomas. "Can you believe this Miss Hooters? She's just about the most..."
The nurse interrupted. "I know, I know. But I'm not talking about her. There's another woman in the waiting room who's practically her double! She must be the one Miss Hooters called a short time ago. The one she called Agent Slut."
"'Agent Slut?'" The doctor stood up in a flash. He put his hand over his heart. "I DID hear that correctly when I overheard her call! Be still my beating heart. What a day! Debbie, is she as beautiful as Miss Hooters?"
Debbie wasn't happy to be asked to judge another woman's beauty. In fact, she was extremely uncomfortable with just about everything that had happened from the moment this "Hooters" woman had walked into the doctor's office several hours earlier, but she'd been essentially bought off by the doctor with the promise of a quick raise. She said as grudgingly and derisively as she could, "I suppose if big tits, long blonde hair, tanned skin, and an overall 'fuck me now' bimbo look is your idea of beautiful, then she's very beautiful."
But despite this tone, had Debbie been pressed she would have had to admit that this new patient, Miss Slut, was just about the most gorgeous woman she'd ever seen, equaled only by Miss Hooters. The nurse was more than a little bit jealous, as she'd always been proud of her C cup breasts, but no one paid the slightest attention to those if she stood near Miss Hooters or Slut.
Doctor Johnson rubbed his hands together in glee and gave Thomas another wink. "You see, Thomas? TWO long haired blonde, bodacious babes? … Wow. I never thought I'd actually use the word bodacious in a sentence to refer to someone I actually know. You see why I need your help? Are you up for this?"
Debbie spoke before Thomas could. "Her name is Slut, for crying out loud! What kind of woman has the name ‘Slut'?" She was indignant and frustrated.
Doctor Johnson answered sensibly but with a sense of humor, "Why, I do believe a slut would have such a name. What do you think, Thomas?"
Thomas was shy and nervous, but he couldn't help but smile. "I think you're right, sir."
"Of course I'm right. And by the way that's some kind of code name because I happen to know she works for a very top secret intelligence agency not far from here. That's why we weren't told her first name and it isn't even on the medical records we were given. Always call her Miss Slut and not Agent Slut, and the same goes with Miss Hooters. Let me just take some more of my heart medication here because looking at this Miss Slut for the first time no doubt is going to be another severe test for this weak heart of mine. What a day so far, and apparently it's just begun. I can hardly wait!"
Debbie rolled her eyes and put on her most contemptuous frown.
***
Meanwhile, Trish Stratus, a.k.a. Agent Slut, stood in the doctor's waiting room, tapping her toes impatiently. She was dressed in a skin-tight black leather jumpsuit that she'd been using during a training exercise earlier in the day. Agent Hooters had called her and told her to come to the doctor's office right away, so she didn't have time to change into something more presentable. The jumpsuit was so tight that she had to keep the zipper down her front unzipped all the way to her belly button so her giant tits wouldn't get squeezed too tightly. The black all over drew all eyes to the one exposed area: her cavernous cleavage. It seemed that back at the secret agency, she and Agent Hooters always had the problem of being given outfits that were far too small for them.
Funnily enough, Agent Hooters had the same problem at that very moment. She was dressed in a child-sized hospital gown that utterly failed to cover up any of her private parts. There was a little piece of pale blue fabric buried deep in her cleavage and then widening out to cover up some of her stomach before running out of fabric long before reaching the top of her blonde bush. A few spaghetti straps connected that to another piece of fabric that covered up most of her back but just failed to reach the top of her ass.
Peeking out of her room, she spied Agent Slut out in the waiting room and rushed out to greet her. "Trish!" she said excitedly as she rushed across the room and gave her friend a big hug.
Agent Slut hugged back, tentatively, but she looked past her friend and eyed the patients in the waiting room. "Hi, Miss Hooters. Please call me Miss Slut when we're in public, like right now. Remember that we don't want to use first names or the A word." She meant the word "Agent." She nervously looked around the room, very aware they were in a public place. The collision of Hooters' tremendous tits into her own remarkable rack strained her tight jumpsuit to the breaking point and caused her boobs to spill out and then rebound into Hooters' tits, resulting in a mammoth tit flesh earthquake as the collision continued to ripple.
Slut eyed all the strangers staring at her and Hooters hugging (the strangers' eyes all bounced up and down in time to the four tits slowly returning to rest). There was an old and chubby man with his equally aged and frumpy wife. Two young children sat with a middle-aged soccer mom-type, and she held her children's hands. Another middle-aged woman, black and perhaps a bit younger than the other, sat with a very young daughter. A thirty-something nerdy type with a broken arm sat alone. A short man in his seventies if not eighties also sat alone. Almost without exception, their eyes stared in wide wonder and their mouths gaped open at the jiggly display before them.
Agent Hooters was less fazed by the reactions because she'd seen those same reactions when she'd come into the waiting room in her same state of near nakedness to make a phone call just a short time earlier. Now, however, the strangers looked even more astonished.
"Quick. Come into my room," Hooters suggested, uncomfortable with all the eyes going a few steps beyond merely mentally undressing her. She pulled on Slut's arm, and the two of them soon found themselves in Hooters' examination room. She said, "Thanks so much for coming, Trish. Believe me; you'll be glad you did. You and I were THIS CLOSE to losing our minds!" Hooters held two fingers very close together to illustrate the "THIS CLOSE" comment.
