MOAB � Mother Of All Boxsets

by George Saoulidis

  They found a few which they kept in rotation, who paid their bills and their drugs and their expensive clothes.

  For a while, it was perfect.

  Then Arsinoe got the job Berenice was angling for her entire life. “I’m so happy for you,” she squealed in the highest pitch possible.

  Arsinoe hopped up and down, grabbing her by the arms and twirling her around like a dance routine. Berenice smiled, she had practised a lot of fake ones, and her magnificent mane waved as they both spun in joy.

  All she could think of was that Arsinoe’s hair wasn’t prettier than hers. They had both auditioned for that contract at Aphrodite Cosmetics, and the executive was staring at her ass, not her friend’s, she was sure of it. She had worn the tiniest skirt imaginable, and it was sheer too.

  How could they have given the job to Arsinoe of all people, who kept her hair short and in knots?

  They stopped spinning and fell on their couch with an excited, “Whee!”

  Then Arsinoe climbed on top of her and started kissing her on the neck. Yeah, that was a recent development, after one of their sugar daddies wanted them both at the same time one night. Berenice didn’t mind, and she felt safer with Arsinoe, so she accepted. The problem was that after that day, Arsinoe had started behaving weird. Some nights she’d make a bother when Berenice wanted her to get the fuck out of the apartment so she could screw her sugar daddy, other times she’d badmouth them constantly, even being rude in front of them when they groped Berenice. Arsinoe had also managed in the last month to get her stoned a couple of times and then went down on her.

  Berenice didn’t mind, she was good at it, and her tongue felt like a small doggy who was way too excited to see you. As Arsinoe’s head bobbed between Berenice’s legs, she ran her fingers through her hair, examining them again thoroughly.

  Cropped, tangled, she even had a hint of dandruff.

  Terrible, really.

  How had they given her the hair contract instead of Berenice?

  Arsinoe used her fingers to pleasure Berenice, who moaned reflexively, but her thoughts weren’t into it. She gripped her frenemy’s hair and pushed her down. Arsinoe misinterpreted it as excitement and licked harder, but Berenice actually thought about choking her frenemy by using her pussy lips.

  She could do it, perhaps pin her in place with her thighs. She was stronger. She was sexier. She had better hair. She was better at everything.

  Arsinoe’s skill probably saved her at that moment, since a wave of pleasure crashed all over Berenice’s body and she arched her back, shuddering as it overtook her. She did pin Arsinoe between her thighs but oxytocin flooded her mind and made her feel good. Or, at least, less murdery.

  It was Berenice’s turn to get grumpy. She stayed at home more and more, while looking for gigs less and less. She cut ties with her sugar daddies, who were stupid enough to still send her cash for a while, hoping it was just a girl’s phase playing hard-to-get and she’d relent, but months went by and even the last one cut her off.

  Berenice would spend her days just listening to music, brushing her hair, caring for them, touching the individual strands softly. She was proud of them, dammit! Why couldn’t they see it?

  Arsinoe brought in the CEO of a subsidiary hair-product company one night. Her boss, basically.

  Berenice simply barged in the room as Arsinoe was sucking him off on the bed. “You don’t mind doubling up, do you?” she said lustfully and dropped her negligee on the floor.

  He gulped. “Uh… No! Please, join us.”

  She started playing with Arsinoe as they always did. When she reached in to get her turn of the cock, she sucked it as hard as she could, making the man grunt with pleasure. She kissed the tip and said, “Hold my hair, I love it like that.”

  He did so, running his fingers through her hair and holding her head, pushing it down.

  “Do you like my hair? Isn’t it soft? And pretty?” she cooed.

  “Yes…” he grunted. “It sure is.”

  Arsinoe stuck her tongue inside her ear. “What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered, annoyed. Then she took the cock from her and attacked it herself.

  Berenice stuck her tongue in turn, and whispered, “I just think the man should have a fair sampling of the goods on the market, don’t you think?” Then she smiled at him, climbed on top of Arsinoe and started kissing him. She pulled his hands and placed them on her head.

  He got the hint, and started massaging her head. “Mmm, you like this, don’t you?”

  “Yes, so much. You do it better than anyone else,” she said huskily, kissing him again.

  Arsinoe let go of the penis and went for Berenice’s ass. She pretended to be making out, and then she bit Berenice very hard, definitely leaving a mark. “Ow!” Berenice exclaimed, slapping her away.

  “Naughty!” the clueless CEO said. “I like it.”

  Arsinoe started kissing him then.

  Berenice stuck a finger inside her frenemy and purposefully made it hurt.

  “Ow!” Arsinoe said as well.

  “Calm down, you girls, there’s plenty of me to go around.”

  Arsinoe straddled the man and pointed his cock straight inside her.

  Berenice kept on the playful teasing.

  A few rounds of biting and twisting and hurting each other’s skin, and Arsinoe had enough. “Stop it, you wacko!” She grabbed Berenice by the hair, it was long and provided a good handful.

  “Ow! You-” Berenice fought back, pulling her away from the shocked and erect CEO.

  They fought and said names. Finally Berenice shoved her and Arsinoe fell on the man’s erection.

  “Aaargh!” he screamed in pain, holding his crotch.

  The embarrassing lawsuit from mangling his penis put both of the girls in serious debt.

  Arsinoe kicked her out, as she was the one who had been paying the rent and all the bills for the past six months anyway. Berenice got back with one of her sugar daddies, because it seems that young pussy is always sought-after pussy, even if it falls off the face of the planet for half a year and ghosts you on every call and text you send.

  He lived in the better part of Athens near the East, overlooking the sea. She liked that, even if she had to endure his body odour to have it.

  In the end, Berenice defaulted on one payment, one single payment, and that was because she had been hungover that day and forgot about it. Adult responsibilities weren’t her strong suit.

  So she basically lost her freedom. They called it debt-bondage, where they made you a corporate slave basically and you had to do whatever they wanted to pay off the debt. She kinda got what she wanted, Aphrodite bought her debt and put her to good use as a model. Uglier girls had to do other things, yucky things. She got off easy, basically modelling for ads and videos where they needed a young, sexy girl with a sultry voice.

  Which was pretty much everywhere.

  She hadn’t spoken to Arsinoe in almost a year. She knew that she hadn’t lost the hair-product contract since she kept seeing her ads. Funnily enough, she thought of her best frenemy when they chopped off her arm.

  Oh, yeah, it was a thing they could do to you, even if you objected. Basically, you were meat and they owned you. The ads aimed towards the augmented demographic, so they simply augmented her arm and plugged a few more implants into her. She had no say in this.

  Even so, she knew that uglier girls had it worse.

  Berenice didn’t care about that, though. She had learnt early in life that you made your own fate. And yes, she had royally messed up hers so far, but she could still make it happen. Showbiz was a weird place with massive amounts of money that got thrown around each day. Just a tiny bit would get her freed from the paramone contract and straight into stardom.

  If only she could her job back from that thief, Arsinoe.

  The black-market dude was nothing like she expected him to be. He was a well-dressed Russian, actually handsome. He presented the box, it was metal and heavy.

&nbs
p; “There you go miss,” he said, presenting it to her.

  “How do I know it’s what you claim it to be?” she asked.

  The Russian smiled and presented a device. He lifted the metal lid just a tiny fraction. The device started clicking with a weird tone. “A Geiger counter. See how it goes crazy when it’s close? That’s how you know.”

  “Nice!” Berenice said, her eyes looking wild. “Sending you the cash,” she said and authorised the cryptocurrency transaction. They waited for the confirmations to come in and then the Russian nodded. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

  “I-Uh, just wanted to say I’m sorry…” Berenice stuttered in front of her frenemy.

  Arsinoe had her arms crossed and wore a mask of annoyance.

  “Here, just a small gift. I picked it out for you when I got to Bodrum, remember how we said we always wanted to go there?” Berenice said cowering. She presented an ornate hair brush that was decorated with semi-precious gems.

  Arsinoe bit her lip. “Of course I remember.”

  “So you’ll accept it? Please?”

  Arsinoe’s face softened. She snatched the hair brush and pointed it back at her. “Puh. Alright. Thank you, and apology accepted, even though you didn’t actually say any of the words.”

  Berenice beamed at her. “This is so great! Okay, gotta go now, I have an audition to get to. But we’ll talk, okay? Byeee!”

  Arsinoe felt ill for months. Nothing she did would make her feel better. She vomited a lot, which the doctors misconstrued as her being bulimic. And a model trying to convince a doctor that she wasn’t bulimic was like a porn star claiming she was a virgin.

  Days went by.

  One of them, her hair fell in a bundle. She kept staring at it in shock.

  They treated her for cancer, then they operated, then they treated her again.

  She wanted to die.

  Arsinoe lost the contract immediately, the very moment she was unable to show up for a photoshoot. It was a clause in the fine print, naturally.

  “I… Uh, I know you don’t have to listen to me, but I do have a friend who you can consider for the ad,” she said over the phone, fighting down a coughing fit. She hadn’t enabled her camera, of course. She looked like a corpse.

  “Uh-huh,” the manager said, seeming bored. “Send me her headshots or have her send them to me, and we’ll see about it. Not all girls have what it takes, you know,” he said with a nasal tone of voice.

  “This one does,” Arsinoe sighed.

  Berenice finally got the fame she wanted. AR billboards, her face on every street corner in this part of Europe. Millions of women and girls envying her, wanting to look as pretty as her, wishing they had her hair. It looked magnificent, cared after by the best professionals, digitally retouched of course to become even more divine.

  One day, a deranged fan stabbed her outside a beach club. It was quick, it was painful, and Berenice died in the sun, surrounded by people, all alone.

  Arsinoe dug up her grave as soon as she felt well enough to walk. She was still walking with the aid of a cane. She had someone else do the actual digging, she wasn’t that crazy to attempt it herself. A few euros could get you what you wanted and the silence of those involved. The hired work dug it up and neatly opened it for her on the side, by the grass, in the night.

  She reached into the coffin, touched that wonderful mane of blonde hair. She always did love her, and especially her hair. She had since the moment they first met. Arsinoe cut it carefully from her friend’s corpse and then put it on a net, slowly forming a wig with her dexterous fingers.

  “This way, you’ll always be with me,” she said, crying over the grave.

  The End

  You can read the Cyberpink books here: https://cyberpinktournament.com

  Tickle My Pickle

  "Come along," it's right over there, Pickle pointed thataway while jogging.

  Cherry panted behind her. "I... don't... can't... this uphill is killing me..."

  "Ain't you a runner, lassie?" Killie asked with her thick accent.

  "I'm a sprinter, not a marathoner!" Cherry complained, breathing hard.

  Killie had a glint of sweat over her but otherwise kept pace with Pickle.

  "And why did we have to jog all the way up to Pireas?" Cherry kept on complaining. "It's so... far away..." she panted.

  "Here it is!" Pickle said, smiling wide, checking the GPS map on her veil. They turned a corner and Pickle suddenly stopped. So did Killie, but Cherry crashed on the big woman's back. Killie barely felt it. "No!" Pickle cried out.

  "What is it?" Killie asked.

  "It's shut! The pickle shop, it's shut down. Gamoto!" Pickle spat out, cursing in Greek.

  Cherry sat on the sidewalk, catching her breath. "You had us... jog halfway across town, to fucking Pireas... so you could get a bloody pickle jar?" Her voice became more screeching the more she spoke.

  "Not just a pickle jar. The finest Egyptian dill," Pickle said, pressing her lower lip. "Now where will I get more? Maria can't have just shut down without telling me..."

  Cherry opened her mouth, then shut it with a click of her jaw. She fell on her back right on the dirty sidewalk, her chest heaving up and down from exertion. "We're running all over Athens to tickle her pickle, that's just great," she said to the sky.

  Killie wiped her sweat with a towel. "Aye, it's shut. What now? Let's run back."

  "Are you kidding me? I need like five hours of rest right now," Cherry said from her horizontal position.

  Pickle was disappointed. "There has to be something left. Wait, when a shop goes under, they usually sell off the inventory, right?" She loaded up her veil and started to search for business listings, wholesale offers in the area.

  Cherry kept on nagging about something but Pickle paid no attention to her, reading through the listings and the replies. She found a promising one. "There. That Turkish importer was interested in a large clearanse sale, but Maria rejected him, this has to be it."

  "So what?" Cherry nagged, sitting upright, her arms on her knees. "We're gonna what, go track down the importer?" Cherry stopped talking for a long moment, then shut her eyes. "What's what we're gonna do, aren't we?" she asked, resigned.

  "Yes!" Pickle said, and turned to Killie.

  She shrugged.

  "See? Everybody's excited!" Pickle said, and started to jog again.

  "Nobody's excited but you," Cherry whined, pushing herself upright with a grunt.

  They jogged to the Turkish importer's location. It was in Kastella, a seedy part of town, a bit east from Pireas harbour, but Pickle wasn't worried with Killie around.

  "Hey, baby, why are you running away from me?" a sketchy looking guy leered after them, whistling at Cherry.

  She scoffed and gave him the finger.

  "You bitch," the man said and ran after her, extending his arm. "I'm a fan, you can't be treating me like this."

  There was a crunch as Killie grabbed it, squeezed it, and then pushed it back, making him fall on his ass. "We appreciate your support," Killie said, with a tone of voice that made it obvious he shouldn't test her by standing up. "Don't forget to subscribe to the Pies' streams," she deadpanned their sign-off.

  Leaving the sleazy man muttering curses and rubbing his hand, the trio jogged to where the GPS location sent them. They got to a run-down part of Athens with a few warehouses, their proximity to the harbour being the only thing that made them valuable. Otherwise, everything was ready to fall apart.

  "Where could the offices be?" Pickle said out loud, looking around. "Ibrahimoglu Gida Pazarlama Sanayi," she read the listing on the veil.

  "It's nowhere to be found," Cherry said, hands up. "Let's just go."

  "No, it's here somewhere," Pickle ignored her, walking inside.

  "She's gonna step foot inside the scary warehouse, isn't she," Cherry said to Killie behind Pickle's back.

  Pickle stepped foot inside the dark warehouse. There was a padlock that had been broken by someone a
long time ago.

  Killie came in after Pickle. She found a rusty length of rebar and held it like a bat.

  "Let's just go!" Cherry said, hopping in place. She looked around and then entered after the two women.

  Pickle used her phone's app for a flashlight. She looked around the place, it was practically deserted, smelling mouldy.

  "Do you seriously wanna eat something that is being stored in here?" Cherry asked.

  "Okay, that's a fair point," Pickle said, tilting her head. "But now I'm curious."

  "About what? The missing pickle jars?" Cherry squealed.

  "Yes! Now, shush, I don't think everyone's heard you," Pickle said to her. They got to a locked door. Pickle tried to pry it open, but it was stuck. Dust streaked from the top as she shook it.

  "Let me," Killie said and put the rebar as a lever to the side. She simply pushed the right way and her augmented strength made the door break, sending out slivers everywhere.

  "Great! Now we're breaking and entering," Cherry nagged.

  Pickle peeked inside, shining her LED flashlight. "We haven't entered yet," she said, inspecting the room. "Nah, don't think there's anything here." She went to the next room.

  "Pickle, seriously now, let's just-" Cherry started to complain again, when suddenly Killie shut her mouth.

  Shh, the big woman mouthed, finger on her lips.

  Pickle tried to listen ahead. There were voices in a foreign language. She squinted, trying to make some words out. They sounded similar to Greek, some words here and there. After a while, Pickle realised they were Turkish.

  "Seriously," Cherry whispered, "let's leave."

  Pickle shook her head and stepped inside the main warehouse. She crouched behind a stack of crates and peeked around the corner. The crates were full of pickle jars, the exquisite kind, the ones she was after. She could see three men standing around a woman, tied down on a chair. There wasn't enough light but she could swear it was Maria, her trusty pickle-shop owner.