Bikini Mountain (Patreon)

They had been dropped here. God knows what they were supposed to do. They were specks, not even the size of fleas on her body. More like motes of dust. Anyway, they walked. Her body a landscape of panels, stumps of hair that gave the appearance of a clearcut forest in a desert. It was hot like a desert too, with the heat not only coming from that scorching Texas sun, but from the body below.

The Platoon had received the coordinates of their rendezvous but now the marines were apprehensive. They were heading towards an enormous canopy and they new what it was. Somewhere between a stadium roof and a bank of cloud, the fabric stretched as far to the horizon as they could see. That horizon was her other hip. That canopy was the hem of her bikini  bottoms. Jets streaked across the sky, vapour trails over the top of the hem of no return. 

“They better not start bombing us.” someone mumbled.

“Might be better if they did.”

“The air is thin at this altitude. You can get in trouble. Sometimes you’re in deep trouble already but you don’t know it yet.”