A Bright Future

"Just imagine it, Josh," the oleaginous Hawthorn recruiter whispered in the good hearted but thick as shit young man's ear.

"You and Buddy Love out on the dancefloor at clubs, doing choreographed dance moves to the latest hot 40 hits, youse will be beating the chicks off with a stick with a picture of Jarryd Roughead on it," Wormtongue continued.

Josh adjusted his pose ever so slightly so he could get a better view of his reflection in the shiny wood surface of the cafe they were sitting in.

"And there's the money Josh. The lovely beautiful money we get from two-headed Tassie taxpayers and desperate souls who steal from their kids piggybanks for one last pokie hit. A million bucks mate. Do you know how much that is?"

Josh shook his head slowly.

"It's ten times a hundred thousand dollars and a hundred thousand dollars is fifty times fity thousand dollars. And you know how many tightly fitting shirts you could buy with fifty thousand bucks? A million."

Josh took all this in. Slowly. Very slowly. It all sounded so attractive, so brilliant. But he just wasn't sure how it would work.

"But how can you afford to give me all that money when you have Buddy and Roughy and Juniour and Hodge and all those guys?" he asked, one of the more pertinent questions he ever had.

"Oh don't you worry your pretty little head about that," Wormtongue soothed, "We'll sort all that out. Now just go and publicly demand a trade so we can try and drastically reduce your cost at the trade table in an no way typically doggish Hawthorn act."

On the other side of the city, a far more gentle and loving scene was unfolding.

Brendan, who had had never liked the base frivolity and grotesque drunkness of Mad Monday, had taken the opportunity to have his long awaited breast implant operation. Now, the glorious globes, modelled exactly on those of Scarlett Johannson, sat proudly on this chest.

"Let me see them," asked Rebecca, who had been his constant companion throughout the fraught process.

Brendan took of his shirt slowly and Rebecca felt herself begin to melt. With a toss of his bald head, he allowed his shirt to fall to the ground and stood there in his silicon magnificence.

Rebecca rose and walked over to him. Gently, she cupped Brendan's magnificent tits. He sighed gently.

"Can you feel that," she asked. He nodded.

"We just need to see if you've retained nipple sensation," she purred.

She began to lick around the aeorolia, in a soft circular motion, gently kneading his other breast with left hand. Her pace quickened and she softly bit the rapidly rising nipple. And then, at last, she threw caution to the wind and buried her face deep into Miss Brendina Fevolina's s brand new, enormous set of fake of tits.