>>16815
>>16814

Emma strained against the ropes, testing for weaknesses that might allow her to free her hand, but found none. With a resigned sigh, she turned her head and looked across at Kasia, who, similarly emperilled, was lying on the Arena floor next to her. "Well," she said, by way of an apology, "I really didn't think he would go through with it, or else I would never have brought the matter up."

"Shh! No talking!" Bob snapped from the seat of the Caterpillar CS68B, as fourteen tons of yellow approached the girls' toes, "Or it'll affect the measurments. I've only got one chance at getting this right." It had taken him ages to set the microphones up, and it annoyed him that the girls didn't seem to share his respect for the scientifc method. But it was important to know, if he was to take himself seriously as a sub-terranean merchant of doom. The microphones would measure the crunchyness, and by measuring the extent of the splatter, the squishyness could be determined too. Then it would be a simple calculation to correct for body mass, and everyone would have the answer they were looking for.

Of course they had all placed bets on the outcome, and as Kasia felt her spleen squirt it's way from her left nostril, she was worried that she might lose. After all, she was supposed to be the crunchy one. Emma too felt slightly dejected as she heard what sounded like a fat guy sitting on a bag of popcorn emanate from her chest, hardly muffled at all by her mammaries.

Bob grinned, for once quite pleased with the lack of screaming, and pulled out his blue notebook. Another successful test!