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  ...presents...       A Day in the Life of Debbie G1bs0n
                                                         by The Madwoman

                      >>> a cDc publication.......1993 <<<
                        -cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
  ____       _     ____       _       ____       _     ____       _       ____
 |____digital_media____digital_culture____digital_media____digital_culture____|

     The stories, characters, and incidents mentioned in this file are entirely
fictional.  No similarity between any of the names, characters, persons, and/or
institutions in this file with those of any living or dead person or insti-
tution is intended, and any such similarity which may exist is purely
coincidental.
 ______________________________________________________________________________

     A silver tear rolled down Debbie's perfect cheek as she slowly lowered her
sleek young body into the white marble bathtub.  When she was younger, a nice
hot bubble bath was all she needed to raise her spirits, but now it seemed that
nothing would calm her troubled soul.  Life wasn't easy for the teenage singing
sensation.  It seemed that no matter what she did, no one would take her work
seriously.

     "Trite," the critics had called her last album.  "Trite, cheesy and
sappy."  Debbie shuddered and began to weep harder.  These were her innermost
feelings they were poking fun at.  If "Lost in Your Eyes" and "No More Rhyme"
weren't heartfelt reflections of the depth of the human soul - she didn't know
what was.  And surely "Electric Youth" was the most inspirational song about
youthful potential since David Bowie's "Changes."  But still her finest works
were ridiculed by those too emotionally and intellectually immature to fully
understand them.

     But Debbie's musical career wasn't what was bothering her, and she knew it
all too well.  Her real problem was that she could no longer go on ignoring the
feelings that were swelling inside her body.  She was blossoming into woman-
hood, but could not realize her fantasies in fear of tarnishing her image as
the fresh, innocent pop starlet.  It wasn't so much to preserve her career -
she knew in her heart of hearts that she could make it on her talent alone -
but she felt she owed it to her fans.  She wanted to be a role model to young
girls, to tell them that it's cool to just say no to sex and drugs - to follow
their dreams and to be individuals.  But at the same time, Debbie was finding
it harder and harder to resist the powerful desires coursing through her veins.

     Yes, Debbie was a virgin, but it was more by circumstance than conscious
choice.  She was curious, but didn't want to just hop into bed with the first
guy that came along.  And since her busy career prevented any kind of real
romance from developing, it seemed that she was doomed to chastity forever.  It
had been months since the last time she had been touched in a sexual manner.  A
smile crept across her face while her mind replayed once again that delicious
evening.

     She washed the tears from her face while her slender toes slipped around
the tiny chain on the rubber stopper in the tub.  A gentle tug and the water
began slowly draining away.  Debbie began gently caressing her taut young body
as the water lowered, exposing her soft flesh to the cool air.  Bubbles
crackled and popped on the delicate surfaces of her small, pert breasts -
sending tingling pleasures from her tiny pink nipples to her moist womanhood.

     "Kirk," she whispered to herself.  "Oh... Kirk...."

     To most people, Kirk Camer0n was just another television star.  He played
Michael on the popular sitcom "Growing Pains" - a winsome youth with an
irresistible smile and a keen wit.  But he was more than this to Debbie.  Much
more.

     By now the water had reached the floating curls of her soft blonde pubic
hair.  Debbie ran her slender fingers through the tiny locks and remembered
that night at the Emmys.

     By mere chance they had been seated next to each other.  They talked a
little, mostly about being mobbed by hordes of twelve year old fans whenever
they went out in public.  But while they spoke, Debbie could feel Kirk
undressing her with his eyes - tracing her curves and taking obvious glances at
her tight skirt.  He had an air of hungry confidence about him, and she felt
desires welling up inside her that she had never felt before.  The lights went
down in the room, and the ceremony began.  Kirk took Debbie's hand and began
gently stoking it.  Then he suddenly let go, and instead put his hand on her
knee.  Slowly he began to move it up her leg, stroking and caressing her inner
thigh; making Debbie swoon in shameful anticipation.

     Lying in the bathtub, Debbie's mind played over the delicious image of
Kirk gently slipping his fingers underneath her silk panties, his manicured
nails lightly grazing her swollen rosebud - all the while looking into her eyes
and coyly mocking her obvious passion.  She pictured that face, those fingers,
penetrating over and over....

     And then it boomed over the sound system, "And the winner for best actor
in a Family-Oriented Situation Comedy is... KIRK CAMER0N!"

     Kirk removed his hand from Debbie's sopping underwear with admirable
swiftness, only a split second before the roaming cameras would whirl to meet
his ever-charming smile.

     Debbie began thrashing about in the bathtub, shuddering violently with
orgasmic tears, but only a second after her muffled cries began to escape her
ruby lips - the wooden door into the room blew into a thousand pieces under the
force of a strategically-placed tactical plastique explosive.

     Into the room jumped an unholy trinity of nefarious evildoers.  The
central figure was a fully clad ninja warrior - armed with razor sharp
precision weapons and dressed in the black eelskin Shinomo garb that only
outfitted the assassins of kings.  The ninja was flanked by a pair of Nazi
frogmen in gray-green wetsuits and flippers - each carrying a deadly speargun
whose purpose was all too obvious.  On their chests was the unmistakable emblem
of Adolph Hitler's Third Reich.  Without hesitation, the two frogmen advanced
while the figure in black stood back to survey the carnage.  Debbie had the
sudden feeling that she might be in trouble.

                              *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

     What only Debbie's adoptive family and a handful of others knew, however,
was that this young nightingale was far from defenseless.  When Debbie was only
a few months old, she and her natural family had been in a shipwreck - and
Debbie, the only survivor, washed up on the shores of a small uncharted isle
somewhere between the Fiji and Easter Islands.  She was raised by wolves for
the first few years of her life, until she unwittingly came across the only
other human being on the island, an aging Shaulin Martial Arts Master named
Bruce who taught her the ways of man and the art of self defense.  After ten
years of rigorous training, Debbie decided to once again rejoin the real world,
and fulfill her destiny as the best-loved pop starlet of all time.  On a
makeshift outboard canoe, Debbie sailed to New York, where she was soon adopted
by a nice upper-middle class Protestant family, who introduced her to record
producer Fred Zarr - and the rest was history.

                              *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

     Debbie leapt from the tub in a flying summersault, barely avoiding a
forked spear that fiercely penetrated the four foot luffa only inches from
where her sinewy young form had just been.  Even in mid-flight, she was able to
identify the deadly curare poison coating her opponents' barbed projectiles. 
They were playing for keeps.  She spun to meet the evil duo, and remembered the
words of her master... "The less effort expended, the more powerful the
connection."  An indescribably graceful spinning crescent lunge kick underneath
the chin of her first opponent neatly severed his head and sent it flying into
the bidet.

     She ducked a slice from the second frogman's nine-inch serrated hunting
knife, and with a deafening cry of "WAX ON!" she plunged her open hand through
the Swastika emblem on his chest - and with a similar yell of "WAX OFF!" she
withdrew his still-beating heart.  As the body slumped to the floor, Debbie
whirled to meet the stoic gaze of the remaining figure in black.

     "Who are you?" she cried, "And what do you want with me!?  I broke a nail
on your lame-ass frogman's collarbone, and I'm really pissed off!"

     "You have killed two of my finest warriors," intoned the ninja.  "And as
you die, I want you to know who is killing you."  The figure pulled off its
sinister hood, and out poured a cascade of fiery red hair.

     It was T1ffany.  Debbie's arch-rival in the musical netherworld of teenage
pop icons, and the very figure of evil incarnate.  Her fans thought of her as a
quiet young girl with modest dreams of stardom, when in reality she was a
brazen harlot who would stop at nothing to have the whole of the music industry
under her wicked thumb.

     "T1ffany!" cried Debbie.  "I should have guessed!"

     "You were expecting maybe Chuck Norris?" quipped back the red haired
vixen.  "I mean, Chuck's pretty hard up - but he's got better things to do than
nail a prissy little WASP like you!"

     "What are you doing here?  What do you want with me?" screamed Debbie,
falling back into a defensive posture.

     "You ruined my career!  I was on the verge of creating a musical empire...
I'd taken the first few steps to establishing myself as the hottest young thing
around - when all of a sudden you came around singing those insipid little
ballads of yours and stealing my thunder!  Next thing I  knew, I found myself
classified and categorized as a flash-in-the-pan little tart like you."

     "What?" gasped an amazed and unbelieving Debbie.  "You honestly thought
you could make it big by covering Beatles' tunes for the rest of your life? 
Not!"

     "You untalented little blonde tease!"

     "You plagiarizing red haired slut!"

     "Slicing your throat open is too quick a death for you!" sneered T1ffany,
dropping her weapons' belt to the floor.  "I'll crush you with my bare hands!!"
She let loose a double reverse snake punch aimed at Debbie's naked torso.

     But Debbie was too fast for her and did a double backwards somersault to
the other end of the room.  As T1ffany sped towards her, Debbie crouched down
and threw her lower body upwards for the little known Shaulin upside down
spinning helicopter kick for which there is no known defense - except, of
course, for the even lesser known Japanese flying supersonic blur-hand in which
T1ffany had been expertly schooled.  The two clashed together in a tangle of
limbs and flesh, leaving them locked in a strangling embrace - pitting will
against will in a struggle to the death.

     But as Debbie's hands closed around her opponent's neck, she found herself
mesmerized by the tender fierceness in her eyes.  She suddenly remembered what
it was that she was doing before this rather startling interruption, and the
proximity of such a beautiful, healthy young body pressing against hers sent an
unexpected flash of heat through her loins.  This took Debbie completely by
surprise.  I mean - she shaved her legs and had long hair and everything - she
never dreamed that she might be a lesbian!  But her body cared very little
about her mind's outdated ethics as she pressed her firm young bosom into
T1ffany's.

     As she did so, both her and T1ffany's grip loosened, and their snarls of
anger transformed into faint moans of pleasure.  Debbie found herself entranced
with the delicate lips of her opponent, and before she could stop herself she
was kissing them.  For a moment it occurred to Debbie that T1ffany's acceptance
of this might be a ruse to get the upper hand - but then she felt a soft, warm
tongue slide into her mouth, and she knew she had a willing and eager partner.

     "I wanted you so bad," whispered T1ffany between kisses.  "So bad I wanted
to destroy you, because I didn't think I could ever have you."

     "Mmmmmm..." replied Debbie.  "I never thought it could be like this...."

     T1ffany's hands roamed freely over Debbie's supple body, as Debbie neatly
removed her black ninja garb.  Underneath she wore nothing, and Debbie swooned
as she uncovered a figure not unlike her own - save for a wild growth of fiery
red hair between her legs.

     "I never believed you were a real redhead," quipped Debbie tenderly, as
she slowly kissed down her torso.

     "That's OK," countered T1ffany, gingerly swinging her partner around into
a sixty-nine.  "I never thought you were a real blonde."
 _______  __________________________________________________________________
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   (U)   |==================================================================|
  .ooM   |1993 cDc communications by The Madwoman              04/01/93-#222|
\_______/|All Rights Drooled Away.                 SIX GLORIOUS YEARS of cDc|

