Aerobatron

By Brixton Atwood

Welcome to Motor City, 1985. The streets are plagued by roving gangs and mercenary ninjas. The gyms are packed with busty babes in leotards and legwarmers. A ruthless auto tycoon reigns supreme. Nothing can stop his rise to power... until he messes with the wrong aerobics instructor.

This Summer, Linda Lockhart’s enemies are going to get the workout of a lifetime. Part aerobics instructor. Part machine. Totally 80s. This is AEROBATRON.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brixton Atwood
• Release date: Mar 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005364052

Brixton Atwood

Brixton and Vera Atwood are a happily married erotic writing team, writer and editor respectively. They currently reside in the city of Chicago.

Book preview

AEROBATRON

By Brixton Atwood

© Copyright 2018 Brixton Atwood

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

Cover photographs: AYakovlev, Perfect Vectors, Michal Zduniak, KPG Payless2, Baldas1950 Shutterstock®

Cover design by Brixton Atwood

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All characters participating in sexual acts are eighteen years of age or older. The publisher and author acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks, and word marks mentioned in this book. The cover models do not endorse or condone the contents of this book.

License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or noncommercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

TABLE OF CONTENTS

00:00:01

00:16:09

00:39:03

01:12:06

ALSO AVAILABLE FROM VHS CLASSICS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CONNECT WITH US

00:00:01

A cyan blue grid stretched out into an infinite horizon. A silver A flew into the center of the screen. The A was sliced from top to bottom by a pink laser, shaving off a duplicate A. With a flash of lightning, the rest of the letters were zapped into place:

Atwood &

Atwood

Home Video

This film has been modified from its original version. It has been formatted to fit your television screen.

The digits on Linda’s alarm clock read five-thirty AM.

Good morning, Motor City! the radio DJ announced, startling Linda awake. She swung her hand at the snooze button and knocked a glass of water into the wall, smashing it to pieces.

Damn it. Every time, Linda said to herself.

It’s going to be a hot one today, the DJ continued. Speaking of hot ones, we are a month away from the third annual Motor City Aerobathon. Dust off those x-ray goggles, because a fresh batch of aerobics babes will be showing off the hottest and hardest bodies in the city.

Boi-oi-oing!

The first dude or dudette that calls in to tell me the name and the artist of this next song wins two front row seats in live studio audience. You’ll be so close to the action, you’re gonna need a sweat shield!

The hit song blasted through the alarm clock speaker as Linda climbed out of bed, dressed in just her panties. She yawned and stretched in front of the window, teasing a generous view of side-boob.

♫ Rising up

Back on my feet

On the streets, still survivin’♫

Linda pulverized a protein shake in the blender. She loaded a cassette into her portable Walkman. She propped up her bangs with a sweatband in front of the mirror.

Three more weeks. You can do it. The power is yours, she told herself.

♫ Against all odds

Moving to the beat

Got the heart of the lion ♫

Linda jogged down the riverwalk dressed in a leotard and legwarmers over shiny nude leggings. The rising sun cast an orange and pink glow across the city skyline in the background.

♫ The Heart of the Lion

She is ready to pounce

And her prey don’t stand a chance

To survive her ♫

A camp of homeless guys in front of the liquor store whistled and called out to Linda as she ran past them.

Mornin’, Linda!

Looking good!

Good morning, fellas! she yelled back. Enjoying the view?

You know it! Slow down, will ya?

Never!

♫ The Heart of the Lion

Is all that it takes

Because the weak can’t compete with the Heart...

...of the Lion ♫

A delivery van flew out of the alley in front of Linda and she slid to a stop on her sneakers. The van blew past her face at full speed as it turned onto the street.

Hey! Watch it, dipstick! Linda yelled, jogging place to keep up her momentum.

The catchy motivational song faded into an ominous score. The van sped down the street until Linda was nothing but a tiny dot the rearview mirror. After a scenic drive through the downtown skyscrapers, the van turned into a residential area and approached a house on the end of the block.

Jack Rourke stepped out the front door in his bathrobe to grab his morning newspaper and noticed the suspicious van pulling into his driveway.

Who in the hell? At six in the goddamn morning?

To Jack’s relief, two blondes in matching jumpsuits hopped out of the vehicle. One was holding a bouquet of flowers and the other had the greeting card. They were the sexiest set of identical twins Jack had ever seen. They had those offset ponytails and fluffy hair-sprayed bangs right out of a bikini team beer poster that used to hang in your dad’s garage.

I think you got the wrong place. Ain’t no one sending flowers up here, Jack informed them.

We don’t question the deliveries, Tonya replied.

We just deliver ‘em, Tammy added.

The twins shared a giggle and handed over the bouquet and the card. Jack noticed that they were both chewing on bubblegum.

Double the pleasure, huh?

More like double the trouble, Tonya replied. She blew out a big pink bubble until it popped.

Hey, I realize I’m no Kirk Cameron, but what do you ladies say to dinner? Seven o’clock tonight at the Blue Lobster.

Sorry, Mister.

We are strict professionals.

The twins walked back to the van and Jack ogled them the entire way.

Holy frijoles, Jack mumbled to himself. He tore open the greeting card and read the handwritten message:

Dear Jack,

Some flowers for the funeral. You have my condolences.

-Frank

Hey! Wait up! Jack yelled over to the twins. What funeral?!

A tall, musclebound man wearing an eyepatch stepped out of the van, accompanied by some foreboding synthesizer music. The twins plugged their ears and ducked for cover.

Yours, Striker replied, taking a knee to aim his bazooka.

Wait! Jack begged. You win! I’ll sign the contract!

Striker fired off a rocket and it collided with Jack’s torso, erupting into awesome orange fireball and blowing his entire house to smithereens. Three different camera angles of the same explosion repeated in slow motion, showing off all the splinters of wood and shattered glass that rained over the front lawn. The only thing of left of Jack Rourke was a pair of slippers on the front stoop.

A flaming rose flew out of the explosion and landed at Striker’s feet. He picked it up and used it to light up a cigar. Striker admired the burning house with a single, icy blue eye and blew out a puff of smoke.

Consider the contract... executed.

VHS Classics Presents

A finger pressed the play button on a silver JVC boombox. The cassette reels spun inside the tape deck and a catchy dance beat pumped through the speakers.

an Atwood & Atwood production

A locker room full of gorgeous young women prepared for their workout. Voluminous hairdos were doused in hairspray. Scrunchy leg warmers were pulled over ankles. Shoelaces were double knotted on Keds sneakers. Boobs were tucked under colorful spandex. Thong leotards were hoisted up securely into butt cracks.

in association with Head Cleaners Entertainment

The lineup of women gathered into formation in the dance studio. They moved their hips to the music and reached down to touch their toes, showing off their toned butts. Linda took her place in front of the class.

Looking good ladies! Let’s aerobicise!

The music climaxed into a radical keyboard crescendo and a pixelated title card flew onto screen:

AEROBATRON

The aerobics class performed an elaborate dance sequence with lots of excessive bending and posing while a new mop boy got the grand tour from the owner of the gym.

Welcome to Action Aerobics, kid, Joe Pennino said, chewing on a toothpick. Cleaning rags over here, fresh towels over here, mop buckets over there. Keep your nose clean and your pecker dry and maybe you’ll last longer than the last guy.

Thanks again for the summer job, Uncle Joe. I won’t let you down, Lucas assured him.

Call me Boss, during work hours. Capisce?

Capisce, Boss.

Lucas followed his uncle into the dance studio and gazed at the scene in awe. There was an aerobics class of more than thirty women reaching for their legwarmers and bending over in his direction. The music was pumping, the boobs were bouncing, and the bodies were smoking. All of the women were dressed in shiny thong leotards that disappeared into the cracks of their asses and reemerged as neon-colored cameltoes as they bent over to touch their sneakers.

One, two, three, four. Asses to the ceiling, tits to the floor. Keep it up ladies! Feel the burn! Move those hips! Stretch those butts!

edited by Vera Atwood

Linda gave the new mop boy a welcoming smile and he was dumbstruck. Lucas had never seen a more bodacious babe in all of his life. Striking hazel eyes. Curly brown hair with bangs teased sky-high. Her shiny purple leotard clung to her figure like a second skin. Lucas watched in a daze as Linda’s busty chest bounced with every step on the aerobics platform.

Less ogling and more cleaning. Chop, chop! Joe scolded. This is a business, not a wack-off booth. Jeez Louise, do I gotta do everything myself around here?