Slashdot Mirror
Flight Testing Of Burt Rutan's X Prize Entry
evenprime writes "The X Prize website is reporting that
Burt Rutan's company Scaled Composites did some
flight testing on their SpaceShipOne/White Knight launch platform on May 19, 2003. Next up:
drop tests. There's also a nice
write-up at the BBC website."
< CheezyDee is quite sexy! > ,__,
\
\ (oo)____
(__) )\
||--|| *
Santa came to with a start. His head was throbbing and his eyelids felt like they had some fine grit trapped under them that made opening his eyes more than a little difficult. He groaned and yawned. "There must have been something strange in those cookies on the mantle,'' he thought as he struggled to recall where he was and what he had been doing when he blacked out. "Or maybe it was something in that glass of milk . . . "
He realized that he was sitting up in a chair. Not only that, but he was feeling a distinct draft. Suddenly he realized that his cozy fur-trimmed red suit was gone.
He squinted in the gloom, trying to make out the details of the dungeon-like room in which he sat. He wanted to rub his eyes to clear his vision but he couldn't raise either of his arms. As his eyes slowly focused, he saw that his arms were strapped to the arms of the heavy wooden chair in which he sat. What's more, his hands and arms were sheathed with tight black rubber gloves that ended about eight inches above his elbows!
As he struggled to clear his vision, he noticed that his clothing had, in fact, been entirely stripped from his ample body, which, incidentally, had been shaved as hairless as an infant's tummy. It was not surprising that he felt chilly: instead of his cuddly red and white Christmas suit, his torso had been cinched mercilessly into a thick rubber corset that was laced so tightly that it pinched his flabby stomach into a ridiculously narrow wasp's waist of only about 28 inches. At the top of the shiny black garment, the generous white flesh of his chest had been bunched up into two mammoth and very feminine looking breasts which mounded out of the rubber cups of the corset's built-in brassiere.
"What in thunder is going on?" the stunned elf muttered aloud in shock. "What has happened to my clothes? How did I get wedged into this infernal rubber girdle?"
He tried to move his feet but found that they, too, were immobilized. In the darkness he could see that nylon stockings had been carefully pulled up his legs and clipped to heavy-duty rubber garters that were attached to the corset's bottom. He could not see his feet - they appeared to have been strapped to the legs of the stout chair, which was bolted securely to the floor. However, he could tell by the odd position they were held in that they had been strapped into some very tight shoes with extraordinarily high heels.
Clearing his throat, he called out for help. For a few moments, he heard nothing. Then, in the distance, he heard the click-click-clicking of a woman approaching in high-heeled shoes.
There was a door some twenty feet away from the chair that confined him, and the light that poured through as it opened temporarily blinded him. He heard a click and the room was flooded with brightness.
"Good! You finally woke up! Now we can finish you up," came a woman's low and smoky voice as he blinked his watering eyes and struggled to see.
The woman who stood before him was an Amazon who towered more than six feet tall in her incredibly high-heeled black patent platform boots. Her hair fell black and straight to her wide hips, past a perfectly proportioned upper body with the most gigantic breasts he had ever seen. Her waist was nipped in sharply and her exaggerated torso was snugly nestled into a jet black rubber dress that ended halfway down her thighs, about four inches above the tops of her skin tight boots. Her hands and arms were concealed with opera length black latex gloves like those on Santa's own arms, and in one hand she held a foot-long cigarette holder with an ultra-long filtered cigarette already flaring in its end. She raised it and took a deep drag, letting the smoke slowly stream from the moue of her mouth. Her lips were well-formed and painted such a dark red that they almost seemed black against the porcelain whiteness of her skin, but they were so huge they appeared grotesque - like a parody of a normal woman's features.
The rest of her face w
Someone tell them their craft has been infected with a dalmation virus.
Do not try to read the dupe, thats impossible. Instead, only try to realize the truth
What truth?
There is no dupe
This craft does not use large pieces of foam
What would compel you to write such a moronic post ??
.
P.S. Slashdot is pretty fucking pathetic.
nt
maybe santa can give him an arse ramming for xmas