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Archive-name: Fantasy/debgibs1.txt


Archive-title: Day in the Life of Debbie Gibson, A

     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 spirts, 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 is that

she could no longer go on ignoring the feelings that were

swelling inside her body.  She was blossoming into

womanhood, 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 an individual.  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 Cameron was just another

television star. He played Michael Severs on the popular ABC

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


     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


     Kirk removed his hand from Debbie's sopping underwear

with admirable swiftness, with only a split second before

the roaming cameras would whirl to meet his ever-charming


     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 plastic 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 9-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 cry 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 Tiffany.  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.

     "Tiffany!" 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 Tiffany, 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

Tiffany 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 Tiffany 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 Tiffany's.

     As she did so, both her and Tiffany'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

Tiffany'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


     "I wanted you so bad," whispered Tiffany 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...."

     Tiffany'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 O.K." countered Tiffany, gingerly swinging her

partner around into a sixty-nine.  "I never thought you were

a real blonde."


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