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We Know Where the Songbirds Sing

by Brent Kellogg
Originally published, August 12, 2003

Brittany Hodges, an under appreciated divine goddess incarnate who spawns a million frenetic spasming late-night Vaseline fantasies given how she strips for money at the local Gentlemen's Club, belted out her rendition of "Teach Me Tonight" here Tuesday as the gods of sticky juicy love cringed and sighed.

When the little "song bird" had finished crooning, the hovering flying monkeys yelped, "she's very hot" and clapping club owner Bobby Marsino said he was thinking of taking a cold shower.

"You've become a big draw," Marsino told Hodges who knew right then she was truly on the righteous path when the boss man handed her an early birthday present. Slightly worried that the boss has a case of the hots for her, Hodges cautioned she already has a sturdy dildo which more than satisfies her sexual cravings.

"I buy gifts for my girls," Marsino grunted, as Hodges opened the small box, marveled at the trinket and then went home to do her hair.

At about the same time, Raul Guittierez, thinking Brittany was his girl, had a surprise of his own in store for her. With the help of recipes borrowed from his mother, he planned to cook up a nice Cuban feast, stuff and grease his babe's body, and then in fine Genoa City tradition have sex in the Sugar Shack he shares with a certain hunkmonkey named J.T. Hellstrom. Should J.T. have plans to be home at the time, he'd have to make other arrangements, or listen to him and Brittany going at it in the thin-walled bedroom.

The more he thought about it, the more slaving over a hot stove made Guittierez sweat. Why exert all that energy when he could simply throw a surprise party at Brittany's place of employment? If Amanda Hunnicutt could spring a party for Mac Browning at Walnut Grove Academy during the middle of a school day why shouldn't any employer want to put business on hold while one of the new employees is treated to a birthday bash? Hell, the boss would probably welcome the lost revenue.

As it turned out, the party was a hit. Raul loved watching Brittany strip, but a few days later his Mormon upbringing got the best of him and he ordered Brittany to quit her job. On September 3, Brittany woke up to the realization that if she didn't stop her skanky ways she could turn out to be like Nikki Newman. She didn't want to be married to countless men and so out of love for Raul, Brittany said she'd hang up her panties of doom.
 
To show what a man he was, Raul confronted Marsino and demanded "Marilyn", as Brittany was known as at the club, to cut her loose and to stay away from her. If Raul thought that a sex empire giant like Marsino would allow his precious little plastic C-cup cash-cow brain-scrambler bimbo to get away so easily, he thought wrong. While Marsino didn't object, while he had other young brainwashed heavily narcotized-spanked girls waiting in the wings to be sucked into the skanky vortex, he wasn't about to let Marilyn go so easily. By the time he was done with Brittany she'd wish she hadn't quit college and would be begging him for another chance to feel the men in the front row with their sunken eyes and rotten teeth gumming her body.

For readers who don't know and may think the Cane Ashby/Lily Winters is dragging out, nothing was so long as the 3-year Brittany Hodges Marsino saga and that doesn't count her time as a shoplifter and Glow by Jabot kid. Skip ahead in the story here, or use the archives index to read the yearly history files. The point of this report was to parallel Brittany with Karen Taylor. When Brittany got it into her head she wanted to become a songbird, it was an innocent enough aspiration as Karen's. The problem is that these people live in Genoa City. Nothing that starts out innocent ever ends that way.

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