This is Altahalib-7. Here, the OPEC nations are superpowers.
Also, the Ewing family is Iranian/Gujarati.
Ah, the East Indies... It's usually pure bliss, out here. Few people know of it. Some of the Ewings are among those few.
Ewing Oil's got a few facilities out here. Some pump oil; others don't. Every now and then, one of the Ewings' tankers passes through the many straits that separate the East Indies.
Out on the straits, there's a yacht. It's one of the Ewings'. Its colors are a lone star.
On the forecastle, a woman lies. She's in an orange one-piece; it's got a chest window, and keeps her buns bare. Her hair is long and raven. She's a long way from Texas...and yet, she feels right at home...as most would.
Meet Iman Ewing. She's Gujarati...and as dark as one. She might not look like she was raised in Dallas...but don't let her Gujarati heritage fool you. She's an Ewing to the core. Or rather, that's what the Ewing family raised her telling her.
She rolls over on her belly, and rests. She's bottoms-up, now. Out here, she'd be an easy target for men's eyes...if any men could see her.
A boy's about to...whether he asks to or not. Soon, a lot of men...from Dallas, and otherwise...are going to want to kill to be in his position.
Over Ms. Ewing's ass, a portal of chlorophyll magic opens. A boy in the buff falls through it. Via a prolonged stay in the Chlorophyll Dimension, he's now a ten thousandth his normal size. He lands in the center of one of her ass cheeks...and starts bouncing off it, as if it were a trampoline.
Above him, the portal vanishes...just as he's about to rise back through it, on a rebound from Ms. Ewing's cheek. It's just as well. As much as this boy doesn't like being this new size...he also can't say he's crazy about the thought of revisiting that strange pocket world, that just expelled him from itself...even if there is enough algae in that world to keep the world's autos running for at least 500 millennia...
With that said, it's a good thing that neither the Barneses nor the Ewings know about the Chlorophyll Dimension. They'd capitalize on it for sure...and their respective empires in it would never be big enough. But then, whoever expects a capitalist to settle for too much?
On the ring finger of her left hand, Ms. Ewing wears a ring. It's a wedding one, of course. Whoever gave it to her is a lucky man. Alas, he'll never be nearly as lucky as a certain Barnes boy who's just been dropped off, by a pocket world, atop her left ass cheek.
That's right; her latest admirer is a Barnes. Meet Lance Barnes. Up until recently, he's had big dreams about joining the Dallas County sheriff's office, or the Texas militias. Now, though, he can't even meet the minimum height requirement of either...let alone run a mile in ten minutes.
Naturally, Lance's world just got ten thousand times bigger. But on the upside, so did this Ewing's ass. He just...doesn't know how he feels about it being an EWING'S ass. Last he checked, his family and the Ewings are enemies.
He knows this Ewing, though. Ah yes; he knows her VERY well... Or rather, he knows her niece even better. In fact, he used to chase her. He chased her all over Dallas. A few times, he even made a scene while doing it. Alas, her niece seldom ever slowed down for him. Things were just starting to look better...when the sheriffs chucked him into the county clink for sexual harassment.
He got out a few months later, though. Unfortunately, there was a probation officer he was supposed to check in with. (She was kind of hot, actually...and not to mention mature-bodied...) But then he forgot, and there was yet ANOTHER outstanding warrant for his arrest...before some pocket world swallowed him up, kept him captive for what felt like hours, and then expelled him here, on this gorgeous Ewing woman's bum, on a yacht surrounded by the East Indies. SO typical, in the world of Dallas's wealthy elite...
Right now, Lance is hard for this Ewing lady. She's hot. He's tempted not to care that she's an Ewing. He knows it's not Christian, to dishonor your family... And yet, the more Lance dwells on it, he must ask...how much honor IS there, in the Barnes family? Better yet, how much honor is there in the Ewing one? Sure, the Ewings have Ewing Global and Southfork, but... Are they really still royalty's stock?
Ah, her butt is so soft. Lance just hopes she doesn't get up to go sit anywhere anytime soon. Until then, he needs a plan for how he's not going to get sit on, during his stay with her...
Her cell phone rings. She answers it. She...seems to be on flirtatious terms, with whoever's on the other end. But then, it's probably her husband. And if not him, it might be some guy, from Dallas or otherwise, that she might be cheating on her husband with. Ooh; now Lance is REALLY hot for Ms. Ewing...
Come to think of it...he's in a great position, at the moment, to jerk off to her. He'd hate to leave a stain on her ass cheek... But first of all, it won't be anything that a little soap won't wash off. Second of all, she'll never know. And third of all, it'll hardly be the BIGGEST mark an ex-lover has left on her...although it might very well be the most passionate...
He gets to work, jerking off. She'll probably be on the phone for hours, anyhow. Women tend to. But then, Ms. Ewing is, most likely, on the phone with a phone-sexer. With that said, the phone call could take anywhere between less than five minutes to more than five hours...depending on which one has the best sense of time. Lance wouldn't trust that person to be the phone-sexer. He gets paid to do what he does, after all...
Lance is so passionate in his jerking off, that he doesn't realize that he's lying in the middle of a butterfly tattoo, on this Ewing's left ass cheek...
One would think that, if Ms. Ewing was truly phone-sexing, she would've rolled over by now. Hence, after Lance has masturbated, he can better see what's really going on. She's merely talking to an old friend from college. On one hand, the friend is male. O.T.O.H., it's still hard for Lance to tell, based on what he overhears, if they're having an affair...or if they're just simply ex-lovers, with their own motivations to not cheat on their spouses with each other...assuming those motivations, that is, AREN'T their spouses... For all Lance knows, her college friend is still single.
Again, Lance can't tell... But by masturbating, he's left spots all over the "butterfly's" wings. On one hand, this particular species of butterfly is kind of supposed to look that way. OTOH, those spots, tee-hee, probably aren't as permanent as the tattoo's ink.
Lance is winded...but he's a very passionate Barnes. He could go all day, if he wanted to. And he does. Alas, there's the woman's interests to consider. She won't likely stay out here all day...as badly as she might want to. And when that happens, Lance really doesn't want to get left behind...
Ahead, bugs start flying near Ms. Ewing's face. She swears, while shooing them. Her college ex-lover overhears this, and asks something, in concern. She smiles, and kindly tells him that she wasn't talking to him.
It now seems, to little Lance, that Ms. Ewing's face needs protection. Funny; he would've thought that the Ewings would've had some special oil, to do this for them... Either that, or while they DO have such an oil, nature has finally out-evolved its vulnerability to it... Alas, if this is truly the case, it might kill Lance, if he got too close to it... But for now, Lance doesn't actually know it's there. The bugs bugging her face, after all, are an omen that it isn't...
He bravely, yet passionately, abandons the comfort of her ass cheek. Soon, he's on her lower back. (SPECTACULAR view from down here, BTW...) Now, he's climbing up her back. He precariously makes his way up towards her right shoulder... (HER right, not his; but then, at this angle, for once, they're one-in-the-same.)
A mosquito lands on her eyebrow. Ms. Ewing mindlessly flicks it away with her finger, while flirting with her college ex-love on the phone. Naturally, she can't protect herself from every mosquito in the East Indies.
Now, Lance scales the right side of her head. By now, he's past her shoulder, off where the drop-off is concerned. The drop-off gets higher up, though, as he nears her ear.
From up here, he can see down part of her swimsuit. Again, it has a chest window. On one hand, he appreciates the chest window as much as any guy would. On the other, some of the women in his own family have bigger boobs. But for what it's worth, what Iman Ewing lacks in boob size, she makes up for in perfect physical balance everywhere else. It's made men hard...including boys like Lance. And it will probably continue to, well into at least her 40s. (Lance is counting on that.)
He precariously climbs into the canyon between her head and her ear. She wears an earring...but for now, he doesn't dare climb there. Instead, he climbs to the top of the spot where her head meets her ear. Here, he's surrounded by her skin. It's very nice skin, of course. It would be like marble...if only this white woman was a whiter shade of white.
Back there, a beetle lands on Ms. Ewing's ass...right where Lance was, only moments ago. Ms. Ewing feels it. She swears, and swats her own ass, killing the beetle.
Her hand gets stuck. She swears several times, while trying to pull it off. She has to set the cell phone down, while trying to pull her hand away from her own ass.
Atop her ear, Lance only snickers. At the same time though, he's a bit paranoid. When she slapped her own ass, it could've been him...
Technically, it WAS him... Just...not in the same way, now...
At last, she gets her hand loose...and swears again, when this happens. The inside of her hand is now covered in bug guts and Lance's semen.
Ms. Ewing hesitates, alas, and smells her own hand. She doesn't so much smell the bug guts, as she does...something else. To her, it's familiar...yet strange.
She gets back on the phone with her college ex-love. "Sorry. There was a bug on my ass." She listens. "Oh no, it was some kind of beetle. It...had some kind of greenish-purple gloss all over its wings..." She listens. "No, I killed it. Except...it's strange." She listens. "No, it's not that. It's my hand. When I swatted the bug, my hand got stuck. That's...why I had to put down the phone."
Again, little Lance snickers. He had no idea that his own aged semen could become so sticky...
"No, my butterfly tattoo's fine," she tells her college ex-lover, on the phone. "It's inked-in. Epoxy couldn't distort its image." She listens. "Well...you're not going to believe this, but... When I finally pulled my hand away from my own ass, it smelled like..." She adjusts the chest window of her swimsuit. "This is going to sound insane, but... It smells a lot like...the beds we used to make out in, right after we did." She giggles. "I know, that sounds crazy, right?!"
At this, little Lance feels a bit betrayed. He's almost dishonored, that the stench of his semen reminds a woman he has a crush on of another man. But then, it's not like she's a hound dog, who's supposed to know the differences between everyone's scents... She's certainly no Bree Bagwell. Although yes, Bree Bagwell is a Texan, too...
"What?!" Her tone has changed. "No, I'm not here with my husband. Why would you think that?!" She listens...and sighs. "Look, I TOLD you, the bug only SMELLED like you. I'm not saying that..." She hesitates, abruptly. "Hello? Hello?" She sighs, hangs up, and gets up. She collects her towel, and makes her way back to amidships.
Atop her ear, Lance struggles to maintain balance, as his giantess mount makes her way below deck. At the same time, he not only gets sick from the vertigo, but from trying to contain his amusement. He's made Ms. Ewing's college ex-lover jealous of him. And the funny thing is, Ms. Ewing doesn't even suspect that there's now another man in her life.
God, she's so gorgeous. Whoever a Barnes knew that an Ewing woman could be so desirable? Lance was literally raised thinking that Ewings sleep in coffins, when they're not trying to steal the Barnes family fortune in the light of day...or the light of the Dallas stock exchange, even...