Dirty Dancing
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Fortunata free porn video
FORTUNATA
(c) 2006 by Anthony Durrant.
Frank Parr, the heir to the Parr estate, was sitting in his nice
comfortable armchair reading a newspaper, when his eyes lit on an article
describing the latest escapade of a costumed criminal called the Poet, a
mysterious criminal mastermind whose true identity had eluded the police.
"This last robbery of his took place on the dock near the seashore, and
they made off with the payroll meant for the dockworkers there. I have no
doubt that the Poet will strike again at a location farther down the
shore. LUCKYMAN should be able to find him very easily!" he cried.
And so, after changing into his Luckyman costume, Frank Parr jumped into
his bright blue roadster and headed off to the beach, where he expected
to find the poet. There he saw a big black sedan parked near the front
door of a house near the beach. A few minutes later, a big man in a black
suit with a white mask over his face came running out of the house with
furs and jewels in his arms. Jumping out of his sedan, Luckyman rushed to
confront the masked villain.
"Your little game's over, Poet!" he shouted.
The masked man - who obviously was the Poet - lit a match and pointed it
at Luckyman, causing him to freeze.
"Anyone who's afraid of a lighted match," the Poet said, "must have come
out of the booby hatch!"
Then he jumped into the sedan and sped off into the night. Luckyman
jumped into his roadster and set off after the Poet. The two cars whizzed
down the road past a stop sign and down a one-way street. As he pushed
his foot down on the gas pedal of his roadster, Luckyman spotted what he
thought looked like a comet coming towards him. He hit the brakes, and as
he stopped, the "comet" rammed into his roadster, knocking it off the
road and down the edge of a steep cliff. By the time Luckyman regained
consciousness, the car was lying on the ground below the road, wrecked
and in disrepair - it was a total loss.
"At least I'm alive," he whispered, "but I don't know if I can stay alive
for very much longer - I'm badly wounded."
Then he saw a golden metal sphere coming down towards him. The sphere
extended tendrils that lifted him gently out of his wrecked roadster. He
just had time to see a bright, shining star above him and the sphere just
before he passed out from the pain of his injuries and from blood loss.
When he awoke, Luckyman found himself lying on a table, covered by a
sheet. He wondered how badly he had been injured in the crash. Lifting
himself to a seated position, he looked around and saw he was in a
spherical room with bright white walls. Then a large sphere came into the
room that had a red spot on the front that looked like an eye. It floated
in front of him, and a woman's voice said:
"I see you've recovered, Francis Parr, and am glad. Your body was
destroyed when I knocked your vehicle off of the road while trying to
evade a Bem'Zaali vessel that was pursuing me, so I transferred your mind
into a new one, and in so doing I have saved your life."
"How do you know my real name?" Luckyman asked.
"I read your thoughts while performing the mind transfer," the voice
said, "which is how I know your language."
Luckyman looked down at himself and gasped in shock. His skin was black,
and there were two big bumps on his chest that he immediately recognized
as breasts. When he looked at his hands, he saw they were slim and had
long, graceful fingers with short clawlike nails. Looking between his
legs, Luckyman saw there was nothing there, just a clump of hair shaped
like a V.
"How -" he gasped in shock.
The voice answered, "Through a transfer of the electrical impulses of
your mind from one body into another body. The physical structure of your
brain was different from the brain in that body, so it took some time to
make the appropriate adjustments. Your body was dying, but your mind was
still healthy; my pilot's mind was dead, but her body was still healthy.
So I transferred your mind into my pilot's body."
"Then my luck's still holding!" Luckyman cried. "Tell me, who are you and
who are the Bem'Zaali?"
"The Bem'Zaali are an alien race that lives for conquest!" the voice
said. "I am a scout ship built by the race known as the Vizier, and our
mission is to find suitable planets on which my makers can settle and
colonize. Shaa'Dukl was the name of my pilot, and it is her body that you
now possess, Francis Parr."
'I wonder what I look like?' Luckyman thought.
Suddenly the image of a woman appeared before him. Getting off the table,
he stared at the woman and watched as the image mimicked his every
movement. She was very beautiful, with a lithe body and long legs and
arms. Her skin was jet black and so was her hair. Her eyes were a bright
golden colour and her movements were smooth and natural. Luckyman was
amazed.
"What have I become?" he wondered aloud.
"You have become a Vizier!" the ship told him. "Now rest and go to sleep.
Your body and mind have undergone a very great strain, and you will feel
better after a nice sleep, after which you can do as you please."
Climbing back onto the table, Luckyman leaned back on the table and soon
fell asleep. When he awoke some time later, he was feeling much better.
Stretching his arms, he climbed off the table and looked around.
"Could you please get me some clothes?" he asked the ship. "Or is that
beyond your power?"
As if in answer to his request, a sphere floated into the room with what
appeared to be clothes hanging from its tendrils. It set them down on the
table, and he quickly put them on.
"Shaa'Dukl preferred to go naked as long as she was aboard, but since
your people prefer to wear clothes all the time, I have brought you
hers!" the ship said. "Now, tell me: why do you call yourself Luckyman?"
"I use a costumed identity to fight crime!" Luckyman said. "That way, I
can live a private life without anyone knowing or suspecting my real
identity. Right now, I'm chasing a crook who calls himself the Poet - but
by now he's gotten away, and soon he'll be committing another robbery!"
"You obviously cannot call yourself Luckyman now that you are a woman,"
the ship said, "so you must now choose a new costumed identity, Francis
Parr."
"Then I'll use the name of the ancient Greek goddess of luck and call
myself - FORTUNATA!" Luckyman cried.
"Fortunata it is then!" the ship cried.
"Can you find the Poet's hideout?" the newly christened Fortunata asked
her new Vizier ship.
"Of course, I can!" the ship cried.
"Say, do you have a name?" Fortunata asked.
"No," said the ship, "I have never had a name."
"Then I'll name you after my dad's old car, then one he used to drive me
to school in when I was a boy. Ship, your name is BESSIE, a name that the
criminal element will come to know and fear in the months and years to
come!"
After flying over the road for a few miles, Bessie detected the presence
of life forms in a house on the beach not far from the docks and told
Fortunata:
"There are life forms down in that house that read as two humans and one
Bem'Zaali."
"We'd better land so I can investigate the life forms!" Fortunata told
Bessie.
"As you wish, Fortunata!" Bessie said happily.
She came down in the backyard of the house where the lifeforms had been
detected, and lowered her ramp so that Fortunata could leave her quickly
and easily. Before Fortunata stepped off the ramp, though, a small orb
came up and clamped a small device on Fortunata's wrist.
"This transmitter will allow me to communicate with you when the two of
us are separated!" Bessie said.
"Thanks, Bessie!" Fortunata cried happily.
She stepped off the ramp and sneaked up to the rear window of the house.
From there, she could see the Poet and his men dividing up their loot
among themselves.
"There's a yacht that's moored further up the beach," the Poet was
telling his two henchmen, "which I believe we can reach. It belongs to a
politician whose constituents have schools in which they teach, so this
theft will be a peach!"
Leaping to her feet, Fortunata smashed through the window.
"Not if FORTUNATA can help it, bird-brain!" she cried.
"A weird lookin' dame!" one of the Poet's henchmen cried.
"GRAB HER!" the poet cried.
The two henchmen grabbed Fortunata and pinned her to the ground. From
that position, she saw a horseshoe hanging from the wall. She bit the
shoulder of the smaller man and reached up to grab the horseshoe. Once it
was in her hand, she slammed it into the top of the bigger man's head,
and the force of her blow rendered him unconscious.
"It's just you and me now, Poet!" Fortunata cried.
The Poet grabbed the lamp on the counter beside the table and leaped from
his chair to confront her.
"Oh, no, my pet!" he cried. "I'm not caught yet."
Fortunata discovered her new body was more limber than her old one very
quickly - she ducked when the Poet threw the lamp at her and jumped on
top of him to stop him from getting away. Once the Poet was down, she
grabbed a chair and smashed him over the head with it, rendering him
unconscious, then dragged him and his two henchmen out of the house
before the exploded light bulb in the smashed lamp burst into flame,
which then engulfed the whole inside of the house. As soon as Fortunata
dragged the three men clear of the house, she went over to the fire alarm
at the street corner and smashed the glass cover, setting it off.
Then she returned to the spot where she'd left the three men and pulled
the mask off of the poet's face. Beneath it was the face of Siegfried
O'Malley, the owner of the firm that had insured the stolen money and
other items taken by the poet. Looking closely at him, however, Fortunata
saw that his face seemed oddly pale and smooth. Grabbing him by the hair,
she pulled on his face, and it ripped away from his head. Under it was
his true face - that of a scaly green reptilian being - in other words, a
Bem'Zaali.
"You're the Bem'Zaali!" Fortunata cried.
"Correct!" said the Bem'Zaali. "I am an exile, a criminal who has been
banished from my homeworld and can never return because my body has been
altered to survive only on this hellhole of a planet. When I heard that
my fellow soldiers had chased a Vizier scoutship here, I knew the pilot
would probably find me, so I assumed the identities of both Siegfried
O'Malley and the Poet and began a crime career here on my prison world,
which you call the Earth!"
"Well, now I think you're going to jail," said Fortunata, "to which
you'll be sentenced without bail. And if you try and escape in a bullets'
hail, you'll be recaptured and sent back to prison without fail - and you
won't ever rail!"
"First I was scandalized, then my men were paralyzed, and then I was
pulverized, and now I'm being plagiarized!" the Bem'Zaali cried. "Just
take me to jail and shut up!"
"Don't worry, the fire department's on its way!" Fortunata said. "They'll
find you here and arrest you, Poet."
Then she ran around to the back of the burning house and called for
Bessie through the commuicator. The ship came down, and Fortunata jumped
up onto the landing ramp just as it came down. Once back on board Bessie,
Fortunata smiled and told the Vizier ship:
"That's one more criminal that won't get away!"
Then she asked Bessie:
"What's the date today, anyway?"
"According to your people's calendar," Bessie told her, "today is Friday,
the thirteenth of October!"
"Friday the Thirteenth!" Fortunata cried. "Oh, no!"
THE END
Author's note: for this story, I have tried to recapture the look and
feel of an actual Golden Age comic book story, and I think you will like
the result.
- yours very truly,
Anthony Durrant
Gert
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