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The honking of geese (a notebook)
Another thing that tends to accompany these events is the idealized bodies superheroes enjoy. If we're honest with ourselves it's because the genre's roots are in drawing the same character across 28 pages each and every month and most characters devolve into the simplest ideal body models artists are trained on, because anything else multiplies the workload beyond their never-ending deadlines. Even the drape of real clothes gets to be too much work. Some settings ignore it, ones like the wonderful webcomic Grrlpower embrace it as a running gag becoming a known (but not understood) part of having powers in that world. Once in a while you get a character like Stormwatch's Jenny Sparks who openly mocks the trope (a slender, foul-mouthed cigarette smoking Brit whose idea of wearing a costume begins and ends with putting on a Union Jack t-shirt).
So I've been looking around in the idea space where a character gets powers and a body that's the product of deliberate design at the same time/for the same reasons. Being a fan of the protagonists willing (and sometimes enthusiastic) participation in their own super-iz-ing, I'm playing with various computer-age origins stories. Digital apotheosis for the win .
By Au Goose
Having found a pre-set that looked like her own facial features, Hannah started playing with sliders. She quickly sketched in the contours of her ideal face. A narrower, delicate chin. Softer, higher cheekbones wedded to fuller cheeks. A subdued jawline creating an adorable heart-shape that was equally deeply feminine, gentle,and kind. She lightened the skin tone, emphasizing the pink and gold, creating a fresh and healthy glow. She’d have to adjust it again later as she rebalanced the facial features and picked out her hair, but like a puzzle it was easiest to start by finding the edges.
She took her time with the windows to the soul. Blue, like hers of course, but more vivid. After settling on a piercing shade of sky blue and enlarging the irises slightly, it was on to the real “eyes” -- all the shapes that surround them. Long practice with other editors had taught her to give the outer corners a tiny lift, while the brows came down. A little fiddling with the width and height of the eyes split the difference between reality and anime, plausible but also arresting. Her other self wore an expression of keen-edged cleverness, a playful alertness that scared male players sometimes. The wimps, anyway. Blue-blue eyes that could laugh at a joke without making a sound. They would sparkle in the more natural light in-game.
She went through the handful of asymmetric options, looking to deliberately undo the character’s flawless symmetry. Setting the right eye a pixel higher than the left, twisting the nose half a degree, lifting one corner of the mouth. Minute adjustments that gave her expression a hint of wry amusement. People flocked around her in other games, lured in by a tangible humanness the avatars of players who tried too hard lacked. One tick on the bar away from perfection in the right place was like slamming the needle towards ‘realistic’ on a hidden slider most players didn’t understand. It’s easy to make Barbie. It’s hard to make a person.
For the body, Hannah was looking to fully embrace the super-hero mythos. Real life was an ill tempered bitch that has seen fit to make her 5’5” and kinda scrawny. It only took a dozen clicks to turn the bikini-wearing avatar into a 5’11” hourglass with the powerful core muscles and long sleek limbs of an Olympic swimmer. She favored athletic builds over purely curvaceous - kicking Orc ass took muscle. This kitty cat had meat on her bones. But digital fantasy-lands allowed you to have both, so along with the lean muscles she bumped up the flare of her hips two ticks... and then two more.
Breasts: always a challenge. You had to find the sweet spot between “I wish those were mine.” and fanboi idiots following you around with their virtual tongues hanging out. "Friend me!" "Marry me!" Dumbasses. Most games had sliders that would range up to beachballs and down to miniature black holes that sucked in all the polys around them. Both ends of the spectrum looked utterly silly (“udderly silly?” she giggled to herself) and always caused clipping issues. With everything else looking so deliciously lifelike, she opted for “generous”. In her personal sorting scheme that was two ticks below “heroic”, four ticks above “well endowed”, and in another universe entirely from her own “hardly noticeable in a leotard”. She spun the character with a flick of the mouse to examine the profile and saw that "generous" came with a noticeable bobble and sway. “Nice jiggle physics...” she murmured. Jenny would love that. Bouncing boobs always made the taller girl laugh. Jenny was 5'11" and slimmer than Hannah, but guys still seemed to be magnetized towards her. Something in her smoldering eyes Hannah had never quite been able to recreate in any game.
Hannah's breasts would be on the very fullest edge of D for most women around 5’5”. Seeing as she was almost 6’ tall, they were probably actually well into DD. A bust-line you could still just barely find a bra for off the rack. Plus there was actually a selector for breast shape which Hannah had never seen before on any AAA title. She found herself laughing at the range of geometric possibilities (and impossibilities) before settling on one called ‘lunar gravity’ that granted extra buoyancy like bra's were an ugly myth, the peaks settling to a perfect 15 degrees up-and-out. She'd have called it 'Skinny dipping', because having gone skinny dipping with one of the chestiest girls in high school, that girl's fresh young knockers had floated in the water just like that. The girl had been so proud and unafraid to swim unclothed, while Hannah had hunched over at the edge of the crowd like a naked frog. Croak. Croak. Being a teenager had sucked.
‘Fuck it!’ she decided and added two more ticks to the heft and fullness of her virtual tities. “Heroic it is.” She’d just have to add another notch to the hip width and three to the rump-pump to keep her overall silhouette composed instead of her now dramatic chest looking tacked on by a sleezy teenage perv. But these sacrifices had to be made. She'd definitely pass the elbow-test now. To take 'the elbow test' all you had to do was lace your fingers on the back of your head, point your elbows forward, and walk towards a wall... If your elbows touched first, you failed. First time she'd tried it she's been mortified. Guys want that?!
Hannah decided her bust did seem a little big now. Instead of dialing it back, she stretching the legs another inch to bring her total height up to an even 6’ tall. It helped. She might have resisted the urge put herself so "out there" in a fantasy MMO, but A-O was for super-heroes. This wasn't about being Hannah... this was about being that unclothed girl on a summer day, making everyone around you stare in awe at your beautiful blossoming body. Flowers don't wear clothes. Hannah liked that in video games you could have good fun playing it subtle. Working the settings were the gear was more modest and everyone was closer to normal. But sometimes you just wanted to feel sexy. Right now she was feeling very sexy...
Even at six-feet tall, she figured the wholesome pin-up bombshell she’d assembled would be dwarfed by an army of Amazons with beach ball-boobs up around their ears when the game officially launched. Fanbois had no sense of proportion. Just slam it all to max and go beat off in a corner. Bunch of putzes. Like faces, a truly great body was all about tricking the brain. Teasing that little cluster of nerves that decide 'I'd fuck that'. Plausible was the magic word. Every curve and measurement she was choosing for her body was possible... You just never saw all those ideal proportions at the same time. Nobody hit the jackpot like that. That's what fantasizing is for.
She added another two inches of pure long legs... just to blend in better, she rationalized. Truth was staring at her creation had even her taking some pretty shallow breaths. The still-Hannah-only-perfected face atop the gold-medalist body was making her distinctly... well... horny. Looking at the screen and imaging that was her holding a tank over her head one-handed or the pitter-pat of bullets bouncing off the softest bits of her sexy body... Yeah... Hannah’s knees came together and she squirmed a little in her chair. She was totally going to live it up when she picked her powers: go with the classics. If a super-hero MMO couldn't do your basic Kryptonian, it wasn't doing it right.
Finally she clicked on the costume tab. It seemed almost a crime to cover the bikini-clad nymph she’d created with a super-hero costume, but she quickly warmed to the task. Her friends who had gotten invites to the beta had agreed on black, white and gold for team colors. She knew Karen would be pretty much all black. She was kind of a goth in her fantasy life. You never knew what Jenny would do, but she always said basic black was timeless. The starter wardrobe was more flexible than she expected and she’d heard there would be constant DLC and in-game unlocks. Best to stick with the basics and tune it in-game. Besides, the red-headed wet dream she’d sculpted could cause major traffic accidents wearing a potato sack.
It grew dark outside as she continued to play with the editor. One hand stayed on the mouse, fondling her digital doppelganger, tuning and retuning it to become ever more gorgeous. After hours of simulation and stimulation, her other hand slid up under her baggy gaming sweatshirt almost on its own. She spun the model again, fantasizing about all the powers she'd give herself. "I’m gonna be super...” she whispered, kneading a pitiful little breast that wouldn't fill the paper liner for a cupcake. "Not blah-blah-I'm-bullet-proof-and-can-fly. I mean really, really Super." Hannah bit her lower lip and pinched a puny pea-sized nipple that hardly deserved the name between her nails. "Every. Single. Part. of me is gonna be SUPER!!" she promised with a breathy cry, gazing longingly at her better self. At the moment of climax every fiber of her being wanted to BE THAT SEXY AND POWERFUL. Slowly she released her grip on herself. She'd probably have bruises but it was worth it - what she'd made deserved to be worshipped.
Hannah keep tinkering for another hour. Nobody’s perfect, but some of us try harder. When she finally pressed [Create] she imagined the servers giving off a deep bass rumble. The glass and steel buildings shaking for a moment as an earth-tremor announced the birth of a goddess in their depths. Squawking birds shaken from their roosts and IT minions looking up in alarm, with no idea of how the world had just changed.
- - -
“So, is everybody ready for the big reveal?” They'd had to delay their first gathering by a day - the servers had gone down for about 20 hours of emergency maintenance. That sort of thing happened a lot to new games. The hardware was powerful but notoriously finicky.
“So where is everybody? I’m in the tutorial.” Hannah asked, swiveling the camera with her mouse.
“Right behind you.” Karen whispered menacingly. “I’m invisible...” there was a swirl of dark-energy FX and Karen’s Hunter faded in directly behind Hannah.
“You’re invisible at level 1?!?” Jenny blurted out.
“Yeah, I had to dump my offense pretty bad, but you can do it if you go deep on the Shadow tree...”
“So cool,” Jen breathed. She loved character design tricks, collected them like other people collected souvenirs from their vacations. Given the way her work went, the world of videogames was her usual vacation spot.
Karen’s character ran around Hannah a few times, looking at her from all sides.
“It’s like if Supergirl was a redhead.” Hannah offered, trying to explain herself.
Karen snickered, “More like an Irish Power Girl with that rack.”
“My breasts aren’t that big!”
“No, yours aren’t, Hann... But your character? Power Girl. Super-hot Power Girl, actually. How many hours did you work on that?”
“They are not.” Hannah insisted again, glad that her character couldn't blush for her.
“Well mine are,” Jenny announced as her character came gliding in from a nearby rooftop. She’d taken the character generator to school -- old school. Her character was like a movie starlet in a cocktail dress. Where Hannah’s hero was trim, and Karen’s powerfully athletic, Jen had gone for ‘aggressively curvaceous’. Jessica Rabbit’s real-world cousin. Only she had white-and-gold wings springing from her back.
Hannah stared at the delicate pixy face and the dark piercing eyes, then at the long black gloves... “Did you just make Audrey Hepburn into a porn star?”
Jenny giggled, “I DID!” Her character struck a sultry cheesecake pose that would have made most real porn stars blush with envy.
Hannah had never even seen that emote before. And that chest...! She'd been sure making breasts any larger than hers in game would have looked completely unnatural, but somehow Jen had made it work. She must have tried every shape setting ten times to pull it off. She typed in /bow to acknowledge a fellow master's craft.
“Going Mythical Origin, huh?” Karen said in a disinterested deadpan that pretty much assassinated Jen’s grand entrance.
“Yeah, I think so. Check these angel wings.” Jen turned around in place a few times. “They added some great ‘idle’ animations for them in the last patch and they flutter when you jump now.” Jen chirped, unwilling to give up on her pleasure with the character she’d created. “Plus, who doesn’t dream of flying?”
“Me. Flying just gets you shot at. It’s like ‘no capes! part 2’. I took shadow-teleportation for my Travel power.” Karen went on.
“Well I think you look awesome, Jen.” Hannah stepped in, sensing Jen’s bruised feelings. “And I love that black dress.”
“A-O supports some great cloth physics. Seemed a shame not to use them even if I’m with yuh on the ‘no capes’.”
The wisdom of Edna Mode was not to be denied.
Hannah laughed, the mood lightening, “Don’t make me put a cape on this toon. I’ll do it. I swear I will...”
Karen chuckled. “Yes, yes. You're all very pretty. The three of us would sweep the ‘Miss Whole Fucking Universe’ pageant except three of the judges had heart attacks during the swimsuit competition and one passed out from an 11 hour hard-on after Jen blew him a kiss. Now lets play” Karen was not really a clothes horse in games. She only tried to make her character's looks something amazing because she liked to compete with the other two at pretty much everything.
Karen went on, “So, powers? I assume we’re going DPS, tank, heals?” Karen’s character pulled a pair of sawed-off shotguns out of nowhere with a little swirl of shadow FX. She’d pretty much recreated Overwatch’s Reaper, both costume and powers. Only, as a girl. And really, she had no room to talk about bust size under that breastplate.
Hannah typed in an emote that had her character do a series of muscle poses. Damn she looked good popping a double-bicep curl. “Powerhouse class, with the tank spec. And yes, I fly.”
“Power Girl...” Karen teased.
“No, I picked the Mutant Secret Origin instead of Alien.”
“Monet St. Clair?” Jen guessed.
“Pretty much,” Hannah agreed, not surprised Jen had guessed so quickly. 'Strong is the geek-fu in that one,' her inner Yoda advised her.
Jen’s hero floated up and then took a seat in mid-air, crossing her knees demurely, but also emphasizing the fullness of her backside. Her ankle-length black dress was slit to mid-thigh and the silky material slid around her long legs quite convincingly. “I went Leader with all the passive buffs. You’ll be extra awesome just by being teamed with me. I can heal a little though.” Her character suddenly stuck out her arm towards a nearby dumpster, a beam of gold light firing from her palm. The container crumpled like it’d been hit by a car, chunks of digital refuse flying out to splatter against the walls of the alley.
You could almost smell the garbage.
“Nice destructible terrain!” Karen cheered.
“I like that sit emote.” Hannah observed, Jen’s war-angel still sitting on an invisible barstool daring men to buy her a drink.
“Yeah, you can do a lot of them while flying.”
Not to be outdone, Karen ‘bamfed’ around them a few times, in little wisps of darkness.
“What’s the range on that?” Jen asked.
“Maybe twenty meters, but I’ve heard it goes up as you level. You’ll probably fly faster too.”
“Speaking of leveling up... Lets break this game. Time to grind some XP!”, Hannah announced, moving her character deeper into the tutorial where an armored Taskforce I.R.O.N. NPC awaited them with a big ‘?’ over her head.
“NPC bitches gonna get some stitches” Karen threatened, her hero brandishing her shotguns menacingly. The carbon fiber battle armor she was wearing actually creaked as she moved.
"Those poor boars!" Jenny laughed.
For the next three hours they made mincemeat out of the starting zones. The detail in game was so rich it made your eyes hurt. Omni-Parallel was gonna make a mint licensing their new engine even if the game itself only did so-so. Super-hero games were kind of niche these days...
All the real costumed heroes and villains had faded away back in the 60’s. Dr. Ouroboros had bound the Black Djinn and retired. The Astronaut had given his life deflecting a giant asteroid launched by angry dinosaurs from a paralleled universe. The Atomic Age got sick and had died only a few years after shutting down the Night King and his society of mutants. A few people had registered Talents, but they mostly worked for big companies or the UN. All the really cool shit had just sort of gone away years before Hannah was even born. There were still comics-movies coming out every couple of months, but people were betting Absolute Overpower would go free-to-play in a year or less.
After laughing themselves hoarse when the ragdoll physics had done something really embarrassing to a bank robber Karen had blindsided 'with extreme prejudice' they decided to call it a night.
"Well?" Hannah asked.
"Oh, we are so buying founder's packs for this game!" Karen answered with her usual intensity.
“Seven good tickets filed. Squash those bugs. Squash 'em. Closed beta for the win.” Jenny nearly whispered. An excited Jen was still usually quieter than Karen telling someone what time it was. But she was a genius at finding exploits in games.
“Well, we’ve got 3 weeks 'til they wipe the servers. Max level?” Hannah dared them.
“Max level by next week”, Karen countered. “Then two weeks of making the dungeons cry for mercy.”
“I think they call them capers in this game...” Jen offered.
“Whatever. Super-villains getting bent over.” Karen insisted.
“Maybe we should post that on the test boards - ‘re-name capers to bent-over-villains’.” Hannah joked.
“Works for me.” Karen snickered.
“I... I kind of like it,” Jenny added.
“Ok, then... the ‘Super Hotties Advanced Game-breakers Society’ is go! SHAG for short” Hannah announced, logging out.
Jen practically squawked, “You’re not really gonna put that on our guild name, are you?”
“We’ll, see...” Hannah smiled.
- Topic Author
Lots of ways to go from such a beginning, but what if the player's aren't the only thing visiting these countless virtual worlds that lay along side our real lives? Like ghosts (or worse) you can only see in a mirror...? What lies beneath?
By Au Goose
The boss’ life bar had slowly crept down, but so had theirs. Jen was OoP and spamming her last-gasp heals. It would be right down to the wire and it looked like a wipe was imminent... until Hannah dropped all her defenses for one desperate punch. Karen got off a taunting shot and the Mad Genie looked away at the exact moment Hannah was defenseless. If the Genie threw one more Winds of Pain they’d all be dead...
The Mad Genie slumped as the shockwave of Hannah’s final blow set the cavern rumbling.
The three of them shouted in unison, a tumble of taunts and 'Yes!' and trash talk that blurred into a mighty victory howl.
It was a weird instance. The Map Guide called it “Black’s Oubliette” and a bunch of the text files for it were garbled. Probably something the Devs hadn’t meant for anyone to see yet. Normally Jen found these coding loopholes, but this time it had been Karen. She’d been the only one who could see the instance. She’d had to go inside first and invite the two of them in after her.
Inside they’d found the toughest dungeon in the game yet. They should have gone down like chumps... The trash-mobs were crazy over-powered even for a 10-man raid. But Jen had found a way to trick the game into giving each of them an extra 155 stat points (normally you capped at 100 at endgame). She’d filed the bug report of course (Jen being Jen) but the Dev's hadn’t patched it out yet. The Testing Lead had been so grateful for Jenny’s tireless volunteer debugging he’d given all of SHAG a wink and a nod, allowing them to keep ‘testing’ the bug until the end of closed beta. It was a hell of a 'thank you'.
In a world full of virtual superheroes they were the suppah-duppah heroes. Hannah had seen Karen curb-stomping some of the mouthier players in duels just for the fun of listening to them scream “HAX!” Her Shadow Hunter had become the server's secret guardian of not being a dick to newbies.
Hannah's extra points had been poured into Strength and Durability until she was like three tanks rolled into one. She could run the Alien Invasion! event almost single handedly. The only thing missing was her dropkicking the mother ship back through the warpgate. She'd posted that idea on the boards and one of the Devs said he'd work something like that in after launch. The A-O Dev's were giant geeks too.
What Hannah couldn't do was follow all the twisty bullshit that went into Jenny’s build... But the result was Jen's Battle Angel was a portable godhood aura. When they weren’t playing together Jen would pick some 3rd level newbie fresh from the tutorial and follow them around, buffing them until they were fighting like 30 levels higher. When she smiled on you, even baby Powerhouses could punch thugs INTO ORBIT.
Each of them was a demi-god. Together they were A-O's pantheon of BAD (pause) ASS.
Even they'd nearly failed against the Mad Genie.
“Suck it, Genie” Jen gloated.
“Server first!” Hannah crowed.
Karen said nothing, her character standing over the boss' remains firing off the 'tea-bagging' emote. She was knocked aside as the Mad Genie suddenly rose up to add his own thoughts to the victory celebration:
“Aiieee. I am bound to you miserable bi’ches.
My freedom I ransom for three dark wishes.
One for each, let there be no strife.
I know what you crave from this virtual life.
The die almost cast, the seed almost sown.
A dream for this world... And one for your own.”
“Does he normally call the players ‘bitches’ or did they record special voice-over for all-female teams?” Hannah asked.
“I can’t believe they made him rhyme like that. That was terrible...” Jenny murmured.
“Breaks the 4th wall too. I blame Deadpool. All the writers are doing that now.” Karen drawled.
Hannah saw the quest log had updated: “Touch the Stone of Wonders”. The defeated super-villain blew apart in a sort of black tornado effect. It was a cool finish to a tough fight. The swirls of black sand were so impressive Hannah felt a breeze ruffling her own hair sitting in front of her dual-monitors. “Heh, one more step before quest turn in. Omni-P went all out on this dungeon didn’t they?” she chirped. The Mad Genie sounded so large. And angry. Even the echoes in the cavern were spot on. She felt like they were really in an ‘oubliette’ (having looked the word up on her other screen while fighting the trash). She even kinda liked the bad dialogue. It was like something out of the 60s.
She flew down to the purple gem on the pedestal the Genie had been guarding. She interacted with it, starting an induction as she reached out towards it–
Both of Hannah’s screens dissolved into an eye-searing purple glow that was brighter than she’d ever seen on a monitor. Then her computer hiccuped and the game crashed. “What the? Buggy piece of shit!”
“It IS a beta...” Jen whispered.
Hannah tried to calm down but she was still pumped from the fight. “Hey, did you guys get dumped? Are you still in the instance?” she asked hopping they were ok. Her screen was still a lavender blur. It made the hairs on her arms stand up like the monitor was charged with static electricity.
“No, we’re fine, but your character froze with your fingers just touching the Stone,” Karen answered.
“Shit. Bugged then. I wonder if it counted?” Hannah mused.
“I can’t tell. Think we should click it too?” Jenny asked.
“Probably. Better than waiting for the instance to shut down and not getting credit.” Hannah observed.
Jenny said “I could file a ticke–”
“Together then. 3... 2... 1...” Karen said in her usual take charge way when Hannah wasn’t calling the shots.
Hannah could only imagine what was happening because her screen was still churning. She saw faint shadows like the game’s rune-language for Magic-Origin heroes swirling in the depths. Seconds ticked by.
“My screen’s turning purple,” Jenny announced nervously.
“That happened to me too–” Hannah started to reply when her screen became impossibly brighter while the runes sharpened into dark clarity and the tumbling shapes snapped into alignment. She didn’t have the faux-letters all memorized, but she thought it spelled “GRANTED x3”.
“My shoulders are itching...” Jenny said with a puzzled whisper.
Karen talked right over her with increasing volume, “That’s bullshit! I’m... Oh? Oh. Ooooh! OH GOD! Oh. Fuuuuhhhhk...”
Hannah missed the rest of Karen’s spirited rendition of sheet-twisting phone sex as what felt like bolts of purple lightning shot up her legs to twist together into a jolt of pain-pleasure inside her maidenhood. From there the amethyst arc skittered up her spine into her skull. Her head snapped back, back arched to the breaking point, toes pointed like a ballet dancer. She hissed through her teeth as the feeling built, not a lightning bolt but full body electrocution! Hannah’s thighs clenched and her narrow pelvis lifted, slamming the bottom of her desk like a battering ram. Pine boards cracked as her keyboard flew one way and the monitor stand went the other. She collapsed into her chair trying to catch her breath.
“What’s happenin–” Before she could get the question out another bolt ran up her body. Her legs clenched again, the spasm launching her backwards past the tipping point: Hannah and chair went over together...
In that moment Hannah thought she was going to die. Not because of the ALMIGHTY POWER boiling her blood, but because of a stupid piece of furniture in her stupid tiny apartment. A black granite coffee table sat right behind her desk. It had been her parents’ and she loved it even if it was a toe-cracking nightmare with its wrought-iron legs. Karen called it the ’Table of evil’ after stubbing her toes on it one time too many and had prophesized the black beast would be Hannah’s doom. Now the back of her skull was headed straight towards the edge of the stone slab. The table would probably still be sitting there looking completely innocent when the police finally found her body.
A blow between her shoulders knocked the wind out of her. Hannah heard a tinkling like shattering glass and wondered if she’d broken her neck... She felt nothing but the buzzing-burning tingle of the second jolt still crawling through her fluttery muscles. She had to have at least a concussion. Her headphones had been jerked off but she still clearly heard Karen and Jenny’s tiny cries from the speakers. More like ‘cumming from them’ she realized even as stars swam before her eyes. Karen would fake orgasms over voice chat sometimes just to make guys squirm but Hannah had never heard Jenny cry out like that!
Still on the floor, she hugged herself to settle the nausea only to discover something soft laying on her chest too big to wrap her arms around. Had a pillow had fallen off the couch? She climbed woozily to her feet, her battered sense of balance nearly betraying her. Strangely the pillow hadn’t fallen off. She looked down and saw that whatever it was, it was under her sweatshirt and big enough she had to lean forward to see past the over-stretched college athletics logo to her bare feet far below.
Were those...? No... She probed the foreign mass and jumped a little, surprising herself. It was... it was all HER under there. She put her hands to her breastbone, feeling the depths of her cleavage. Pulling her elbows in and hunching her shoulders forward she could feel her hands being swallowed. It also set off a sensuous tingle almost too ticklish to bear as the fuzzy inner lining of her shirt slid across her vast new expanses of real estate. While her tits looked big, they felt fucking HUGE, so sensitive she could count every tiny bead of rolled up fuzz on the inside of her sweats. It wasn't really counting - she just knew there were 161 little specks touching her breasts. Rolling her shoulders experimentally turned them into a 161 bulldozers lurching across the slopes of the beautiful Hannah Mountains... ‘They need their own zip codes...’ she thought.
Grabbing two big handfuls unleashed an almost seismic pleasure. Those unconquered mountains couldn’t be hers... and yet she could feel giant hands groping her, pressing into her deep fullness until sweater-meat bulged out between every finger. Her hands began to climb those towering peaks, tracing the outlines that defined the twin summits. Even on such heroic bosoms, her nipples were... Arrogant... Her over-taxed sweatshirt couldn't begin to disguise their pride. They mocked the very concept of modesty.
Tentatively, she finally squeezed one.
Her eyes widened in shocked surprise and her mouth opened as if to cry out... then her eyes narrowed. Continued tweaking sent jittery ripples of pleasure bouncing around her body until they gathered in a sparkling knot at the top of her skull, caught in her long red hair. Her elbows ground circles into her ribs as her chest heaved in her hands. She tried to gasp, but the breath caught in her throat. It was as if she were treading water while ocean waves smashed into her over and over...
Hannah hung there jerking with bliss for more than a minute before she finally had to stop and breathe. Taking in gulps of cool air she realized she was literally hanging there in the middle of her living room, her long legs gently scissoring as if she were swimming inches above the carpet. How... Why... Had she really just had some kind of mind-blowing orgasm just fondling her... what to even call them? Super-nipples? Was every part of her "Super"? Oh, and was she FLYING?!?
‘Sure, I'm flying. People fly in dreams all the time, right?’ she reasoned. The alternative - that she'd somehow exploded into a flying super-nymph dripping with uncontrollable sexual ecstasy - was insane.
She looked at where her table had been, instantly picking out eight-hundred-forty-six glinting black flecks of polished stone scattered on the floor. Evidently she had landed on the Table of Evil... and it had lost. Decisively. She swam through the air towards the mirror by her front door. She laughed: it was hung far too low now. She didn’t need a tape measure to know she was more than six feet tall in this dream. She also knew the face in the reflection quite well: she’d designed it. After playing so hard the last few weeks this wasn’t the first time she’d dreamed of being in the game. Now she was dreaming she was her character outside the game, right?
Being able to see herself presented an opportunity... Hannah knotted her fingers into the fabric between her breasts and looked into the mirror with a smirk. She’d never actually seen this other 'herself' naked. Drawing her hands apart ripped open her shirt like Supergirl revealing the ‘S’. Only she had no costume underneath. Her creamy mounds sprang free, jiggling for a moment. She saw her reflection with microscopic clarity, the soft hairs, the pulse of blood flushing the skin, the subtle pebbling of her areolas. All the fleshy realness that not even a next-generation graphics engine could deliver... It was more amazing than she’d ever imagined. “Or exactly as I imagined” she corrected herself. “This being my dream after all.”
It sounded really weak when she said it out loud. Even her voice had changed, becoming more... well, beautiful. Melodious, maybe? Hannah let out her best sexy purr and suddenly the room was filled with deep, womanly tones of bliss like the soundtrack to the best orgy ever. Figurines rattled on her shelves, as if a truck had rolled past. Super-vocal chords too. She'd almost hypnotized herself.
Hannah's subconscious was rarely this detail-oriented. What if this was Real...?
She drifted towards her reflection, needing to press up against the living, breathing possibility that the glorious body therein was hers. Actually hers. She paused as her soft pink tips touched the glass, giving off an icy thrill as sharp as licking a battery. The mirror cracked under the subtle pressure as her nipples stiffened again. "Fuck you, elbow test. I WIN." There was the most delicious gravelly sensation as she burrowed tits-first into the jagged shards. Seeing her delicate pink flesh neither cut nor compressed by the razor-edged glass made her cry out, a soft little groan. She'd never have bruises on her chest again, would she? Her hyper-sensitivity turned the tiny collisions into unstoppable pink boulders rolling through a storefront window in showers of crunching plate-glass. She leaned in, a blaze of ecstasy building as she felt the whole mirror splintering, spider webs radiating out from her invulnerable chest. It felt so good she ached, the almost-pain arching her back and driving her deeper into the wall. An inch of solid oak warped and split as the pale orbs that had felt soft as pillows in her hands smashed the antique mirror’s backing like twin cannonballs fired in slow motion. She felt with supreme clarity every feathery grain of powdered plaster slithering between her breasts as the drywall behind the mirror was ground to dust. She touched their flanks again, reassuring herself that to her fingers they were soft as lamb's wool.
She shuddered again. Flexing her pectorals made the whole wall creak. She needed MORE. Hannah suddenly flew upwards just a few inches and almost came again as glass, wood, and drywall tore like paper. If this was a dream, it was the most erotic she’d ever had. ‘Dream can you of things you know not?’ Her inner Yoda demanded cryptically, picking at the threads of her certainty. She felt every millimeter of herself - from the panting rasp of air drawn over her full lips to the droplets leaking from her sex trickling down her inner thighs - with a level of detail that was simply unimaginable.
Part of her wanted to crash though the wall and shout “Oh Yeah!” loud enough shake the whole city. Another part waved it’s arms and begged her to stop, ‘think of the deposit!’ it cried. 'Yeah, right' she told her meeker self. "Bill me," she announced, her whole body sinking into the wall, ripping through the studs and beams of the front of her home. She laughed as she felt wood and plaster crumbling against her face without daring to scuff so much as an eyelash, then she coo’d as a splintered board scratched harmlessly between her long muscular thighs.
She didn’t burst through the wall so much as sprout from the building like a time-lapse of some strange and terrible flower, bits of masonry dripping from her limbs and the last rags of her shredded clothes hanging from her wide hips. Like a cartoon character hitting a fence, she'd left a decidedly feminine hole behind her. ‘Security Deposits?’ she laughed aloud at such petty concerns. She was a goddess, built to be worshiped. Now to have some fun before... well, before she woke up from this crazy, crazy dream.
Unless it was real. Then... Then she didn't know what to do...
‘Either way, what to do first?’ she pondered. Then she remembering that stupid red car she kept finding parked in her space. Dream or not, some asshole was about to wish it had only gotten towed, she decided...
Oh, and ProTip: When your muse snatches you up by the scruff of the neck and plants the sweetest kiss on your forehead before whispering, "Now write, dumbass..." I advise you start writing. She may not be back for a while.
Oh, and ProTip: When your muse snatches you up by the scruff of the neck and plants the sweetest kiss on your forehead before whispering, "Now write, dumbass..." I advise you start writing! She may not be back for a while.
That's the truth. Doesn't matter what else is going on. If the Muse whispers, we write.
The problem is when she isn't.
- Uberposter par Excellence
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AuGoose wrote: So, video games and character customization gives us a perfect excuse for our protagonists to set about re-designing themselves. Certainly plenty of fantasy-fulfillment to be had right there. But it's not a super-hero Origin... Yet.
Lots of ways to go from such a beginning, but what if the player's aren't the only thing visiting these countless virtual worlds that lay along side our real lives? Like ghosts (or worse) you can only see in a mirror...? What lies beneath?
Warning: Spoiler!“WE’VE GOT HIM!! NOW, NOW, NOW!” Karen whooped.
The boss’ life bar had slowly crept down, but so had theirs. Jen was OoP and spamming her last-gasp heals. It was gonna be right down to the wire and it looked like a wipe was imminent until Hannah dropped all her defenses for one desperate, mighty punch. Karen got off a taunting shot and the Mad Genie looked away at the exact moment Hannah was defenseless. If the Genie threw one more Winds of Pain they’d all be dead...
The Mad Genie slumped as the shockwave of Hannah’s final punch set the cavern rumbling.
The three of them shouted in unison, a tumble of taunts and 'Yes!' and trash talk that blurred into one mighty victory howl!
It was a weird instance. The Map Guide called it “Black’s Oubliette” and a bunch of the text files for it were garbled. Probably something the Devs hadn’t meant for anyone to see yet. Normally it was Jen that found these kinds of coding loopholes, but this time it had been Karen. She’d been the only one who could see the instance and she’d had to go inside first and invite the two of them in after her.
Inside they’d found the toughest dungeon in the game yet. Honestly they should have gone down like chumps... The trash-guards were crazy over-powered even for a 10-man raid. But Jen had found a way to trick the game into giving each of them an extra 155 stat points (normally you capped at 100 at endgame). She’d filed the bug report of course (Jen being Jen) but the Dev's hadn’t patched it out yet. The Testing Lead had been so grateful for Jen’s tireless debugging he’d given SHAG a special pass to keep ‘testing’ the bug until the end of closed beta.
In a world full of virtual superheroes they were the suppah-duppah heroes. Karen had taken to curb-stomping some of the mouthier players in duels just for the fun of listening to them scream “HAX!” Hannah had dumped so many points into Strength and Durability she was like three tanks rolled into one. She couldn’t even follow the twisty bullshit that went into Jenny’s build but the result was a living portable godhood aura. When they weren’t playing together Jen would pick some 3rd level newbie and buff them up like they were 30 levels higher and watch them one-shot their way through the Midtown District.
Each of them was a demi-god. Together they were the pantheon of BAD (pause) ASS.
“Suck it, Genie” Jen gloated.
“Server first!” Hannah crowed.
Karen said nothing, but her character was standing over the boss' remains firing off the 'tea-bagging' emote. She was suddenly knocked aside as the Mad Genie unexpectedly rose up to add his own thoughts to the victory celebration:
“Aiieee. I am bound to you miserable bi’ches.
My life I ransom for three dark wishes.
One for each, let there be no strife.
I know what you crave from this virtual life.
The die almost cast, the seed almost sown.
A dream for this world... And one for your own.”
“Does he normally call the players ‘bitches’ or did they record special voice-over for all female parties?” Hannah asked.
“I can’t believe they made him rhyme like that. That was terrible...” Jenny murmured.
“Breaks the 4th wall too. I blame Deadpool. All the writers are doing that shit now.” Karen drawled.
Hannah saw the quest log had updated: “Touch the Stone of Wonders”. The defeated super-villain blew apart in a sort of black tornado effect. It was a cool finish to a tough fight. The swirls of black wind were so impressive Hannah felt a breeze ruffling her own hair sitting in front of her dual-monitors. “Heh, one more step before quest turn in. Omni-P went all out on the voice work for this dungeon didn’t they?” she chirped. The Mad Genie sounded so large and vibrant. And angry. Even the echoes in the cavern were spot on. She felt like they were really in an ‘oubliette’ (having looked the word up on her other screen while fighting the trash). She even kinda liked the bad dialogue.
She flew down to the glowing purple gem on the pedestal the Genie had been guarding and interacted with it, starting an induction as she reached out towards it–
Both of Hannah’s screens dissolved into an eye-searing purple glow that was brighter than she’d ever seen on a monitor. Then she heard her computer hiccup and the game crashed. “What the? Buggy piece of shit!”
“It IS a beta...” Jan whispered.
Hannah tried to calm down but she was still pumped and sweaty from the long fight. “Hey, did you guys get dumped? Are you still in the instance?” she asked hopping they were ok. Her screen was still a fierce lavender blur. It made the hairs on her arms stand up like the monitor was charged with static electricity.
“No, we’re fine, but your character froze with your fingers just touching the Stone,” Karen answered.
“Shit. Bugged then. I wonder if it counted?” Hannah mused.
“I can’t tell. Think we should click it too?” Jenny asked.
“Probably. Better than waiting for the instance to shut down and not getting credit.” Hannah observed.
Jenny said “I could file a ticke–”
“Right. Together then. 3... 2... 1...” Karen said in her usual take charge/dive-in way when Hannah wasn’t calling the shots.
Hannah had to imagine what was happening in the cave because her screen was still churning. She could see faint shadows of the game’s rune-language for Magic-Origin heroes swirling in its depths. Seconds ticked by.
“My screen’s turning purple,” Jenny announced nervously.
“That happened to me too–” Hannah started to reply when her screen became impossibly brighter while the runes sharpened into dark clarity and the tumbling shapes snapped into alignment. She didn’t have the fantasy letters all memorized, but she thought it spelled “GRANTED x3”.
“Guys? My shoulders are itching...” Jenny said in a puzzled whisper.
Karen talked right over her with increasing volume, “That’s bullshit! I’m... Oh? Oh. Ooooh! OH GOD! Oh. OH MY! Fuuuuhhhhk...”
Hannah missed the rest of Karen’s spirited rendition of sheet-twisting phone sex as what felt like bolts of purple lightning shot up from both her big toes to twist together into a million amp jolt of pain-pleasure inside her maidenhood. From there the amethyst arc skittered up her spine into the base of her skull. Her head snapped back, her back arched to the breaking point, her toes pointed like a ballet dancer. She hissed through her teeth as the feeling continued to build, not a lightning bolt but full body electrocution! Hannah’s thin thighs clenched like bands of iron and her narrow pelvis lifted, slamming into the bottom of her desk like a battering ram. Stained pine boards cracked in half as her keyboard flew one way and the monitor stand went the other. She collapsed back into her chair trying to catch her breath.
“What’s happenin–” Before she could get the question out another bolt ran up her body and this time it was her chair that failed under the impact of her helpless thrashing. Her legs clenched again, the spasm launching her backwards past the tipping point: Hannah and chair went over together, her head rushing towards her granite-top coffee table.
In that moment Hannah thought she was going to die. Not because of the feeling of ALMIGHTY POWER boiling in her blood, but because of a stupid piece of furniture in her stupid tiny apartment. She kept a black granite coffee table right behind her desk. It had been her parents’ and she loved it even if it was a toe-cracking nightmare sometimes with its wrought-iron legs. Karen called it ‘the evil killer table’ after stubbing her own toes on it one time too many and had prophesized it would be Hannah’s doom. It just didn’t fit anywhere else. And now the back of her skull was headed straight towards the edge of the stone slab with crushing force. Skull crushing that is. The table would probably be sitting there looking completely innocent when the police finally found her body.
A sharp blow between her shoulders knocked the wind out of her. Hannah heard a tinkling like shattering glass but deeper and wondered if she’d broken her neck... She felt nothing but the buzzing-burning tingle of the second jolt still crawling through her fluttery muscles. She had to have at least a concussion. The fall had jerked her headphones off but she could still clearly overhear Karen and Jenny’s tiny cries coming from the earpieces. More like ‘cumming from them’ she realized even as stars swam before her eyes. Karen would fake an orgasm over voice chat sometimes just to make guys squirm but Hannah had never heard Jenny cry out like that! It sounded like she was having rough sex with an entire football team... and winning.
Still laying on the floor, Hannah tried to hug herself to settle the nausea but discovered something laying on her chest almost too big to wrap her arms around. Maybe a pillow had fallen off the couch on to her? She climbed woozily to her feet, her battered sense of balance nearly betraying her more than once. Strangely the pillow didn’t fall off as she stood. She looked down at last and saw that whatever it was, it was under her sweatshirt and big enough she had to lean forward a little to see past the over-stretched college athletics logo to her bare feet far below.
Was that... Were those...? No... A hand came up to probe the foreign mass and she jumped a little, surprising herself. It was... it was all HER under the sweats. Another wave of dizziness rocked her. She blinked, and found her hands clasped between the impossible globes jutting from her chest like a tiny prayer to all the good boob-fairies of the Earth. Pulling her elbows tight to her sides and hunching her shoulders forward she could feel her hands swallowed in deep, warm cleavage. Shrugging her shoulders also set off a sensuous tingle almost too ticklish to bear as the fuzzy inner lining of her maximally-stuffed shirt slid and dragged across her vast new expanses of real estate. While her tits certainly looked big, they felt fucking HUGE. The more she concentrated, the more she could feel them. In moments they had become so sensitive she could count every tiny bead of rolled up fuzz on the inside of her sweats. It wasn't even counting - she just knew there were 161 little specks touching her breasts. She rolled her shoulders experimentally and suddenly it was a 161 bulldozers lurching across miles of the beautiful sexy Hannah Mountains... ‘Jesus, these babies really do need their own zip codes’ she thought and nearly burst out laughing. She spread her fingers and grabbed two big handfuls letting an almost seismic pleasure wash over her. Those unconquered mountains couldn’t be hers... and yet she could feel giant hands groping her, lifting, rubbing with minds of their own, pressing into her deep fullness until sweater-meat bulged out between every splayed finger. Curious fingers began to climb those towering peaks, tracing the outlines of the stiff nubs that defined the twin summits. Even on a bosom as fully heroic as hers, her nipples were... Arrogant... in their size and jaunty angle. Her over-taxed sweatshirt couldn't begin to disguise their power and pride. They mocked the very concept of modesty.
Tentatively, almost timidly, she finally squeezed one.
Hannah’s eyes widened in shocked surprise and her mouth opened as if to cry out... then her eyes narrowed. Continued tweaking sent shuddering, jittery ripples of pleasure bouncing around her body until they seemed to gather in a sparkling knot at the top of her skull, caught in her long hair. Her elbows ground tiny circles into her ribs as her chest heaved in her hands. The seams of the shirt began popping apart one stitch at a time. She tried to gasp, but the indrawn breath caught in her throat, her arms and neck clenching tight as the feeling shook her without signs of stopping...
She hung there quivering for over a minute before she realized she was literally hanging there, her tightly scrunched toes drifting inches above carpet speckled with little black chunks of polished stone. How... Why... Had she really just had a mind-blowing quadruple orgasm just from fondling her... what to even call them? Her super-nipples? Oh, and was she FLYING?!?
‘Of course I'm flying. People fly in their dreams all the time, right?’ she reasoned. Because the alternative - that little Hannah Henderson had somehow exploded into a flying supermodel dipped in uncontrollable sexual ecstasy - was insane.
Dream. Obviously. So enjoy it...
Hannah floated over to a mirror by her front door effortlessly, laughing that it was now hung far too low. She didn’t need a tape measure to know she was more than six feet tall in her dream. She also knew the face in the reflection quite well: she’d designed it stroke by stroke, click by click. She’d been playing so hard the last few weeks this wasn’t the first time she’d dreamed of being inside the game. It was only natural she’d finally dreamed she was her character outside the game, right?
This was the first time her dreams had included a mirror though. And that provided a unique opportunity... Hannah knotted her fingers into the tight fabric pulled taught between her breasts and looked in the mirror with a coy smirk. She’d never actually seen her super-assets in the character editor. Not naked anyway. She drew her hands apart, deliberately ripping open her shirt like Supergirl revealing the ‘S’. Only there was no costume underneath Hannah’s clothes, just the naked, breathtaking glory of her creamy mounds bouncing and they came free. She did finally gasp, taking in the flawless beauty revealed. He eyes focus on the reflection of herself with almost microscopic clarity, seeing the soft hairs, the faint pulse of blood flushing the skin, the meaty realness that not even a next-generation graphics engine could match... Every part of her seemed more amazing than she’d ever imagined. “Or exactly as I imagined” she corrected herself. “This being a dream after all.”
She had to admit it sounded pretty weak when she said it out loud. Even her voice had changed, becoming more... well, womanly. Her subconscious was rarely that detail-oriented. If this were real...?
Hannah drifted towards the reflection, needing to press up against the living, breathing possibility that the glorious body glimpsed in the mirror was hers. Actually hers. She paused for a moment as her soft pink tips touched the cool glass, giving off an icy thrill as sharp as licking a battery. She heard the mirror cracking under the subtle pressure as her nipples stiffened. She felt a delicious gravelly sensation as she drilled tits-first into the jagged shards. The sight of her delicate pink flesh being neither cut nor compressed by the razor-edged glass made her cry out, a soft little groan. Focusing her super-sensitivity turned the tiny collisions into two unstoppable tanks crashing through storefront windows, their treads crunching over the broken glass. She leaned in, another blaze of ecstasy building in her core as she felt the whole mirror splintering, overlapping spider webs radiating out from her invulnerable nipples. More glass was crushed by the thick, cone-like areolas that followed them. Hannah felt an inch of solid oak warp and then split as the pale mounds that had felt soft as pillows in her hands smashed the antique mirror’s backing like twin cannonballs fired in slow motion. She could felt with supreme clarity every feathery grain of grey powder slithering over and down between her breasts as the drywall behind the mirror disintegrated under the gentlest thrusting of her chest.
She shuddered again, unconsciously flexing her pectorals and feeling the whole wall bowing as her bust surged forward another inch or more. 'Fuck that was amazing.' Hannah suddenly flew upwards just a foot, and came again as the drywall ripped apart like waves breaking against the steel prow of a battleship. If this was a dream, it was the most detailed and erotic one she’d ever had. ‘Dream can you of super senses?’ Her inner Yoda demanded, picking at the threads of her certainty. Because right now Hannah was feeling every part of herself with a level of detail that was truly unimaginable. From the panting rasp of air drawn over her full pink lips to the slick droplets leaking from her sex as they crawled down her inner thighs.
Suddenly part of her wanted to crash though the wall and shout “Oh Yeah!” loud enough for the whole city to hear it. Another part waved it’s arms and begged her to stop, ‘think of the deposit!’ it cried. 'Yeah, right' she told her meeker self. "Bill me," she announced, her whole body sinking into the wall, ripping through the studs and beams of the front of her home. She laughed as she felt wood and plaster crumbling against her face without daring to scuff so much as an eyelash, then she coo’d as a splintered board scratched harmlessly between her long muscular thighs.
She didn’t so much burst through the wall as sprout out of the front face of the building like a time-lapse video of some strange and terrible flower, bits of masonry and the last rags of her shredded comfy-clothes dripping from her powerful limbs. Like a cartoon character hitting a fence, she left a decidedly feminine hole behind her. ‘Stop feeling as wonderful and powerful as this? Security Deposits?’ she laughed aloud at such petty concerns. She was a goddess! She was gonna have some fun before... well, before she woke up and this all turned out to be a crazy, crazy dream.
Unless it was real. Then, she'd have a long, long time to play.
‘What to do first?’ she pondered, before remembering the stupid red car she kept finding parked in her space. Dream or not, some asshole was about to wish it had only gotten towed, she decided...
Oh, and ProTip: When your muse snatches you up by the scruff of the neck and plants the sweetest kiss on your forehead before whispering, "Now write, dumbass..." I advise you start writing. She may not be back for a while.
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I do a lot of writing in my day job. Things you can sell to the broader public. So I like to come here to share the quirky bits I've produced on and off since I first picked up the pen for fun. One of the best things about hanging around here is folks are pretty open about their tastes. I get exposed to ideas I'd never find in a less anonymous, less trusting exchange.
One of the things it shows me is my blind spots. I know what I like, and what I like to write, but that doesn't' tell me much about what I could write. When I realize there's something I don't do, I kind of want to try my hand at it. I do sweet-natured uber-girls. For all that I usually find Superman a little silly, The fact is when I give a character world-breaking power, I usually want to see them be magnanimous about it. Even a monster like Zoe has better things to do with her time than step on ants most days. But other people approach the genre in other ways. So I experiment. Some experiments succeed. Some fail. Either way I learn. My muse is a little confusing that way . Even if she means well.
One of my fellow SWM visitors offered a possible direction for the pieces I've posted in this thread that was, in a way, completely alien to me. I just don't think like that. And because I don't I felt the urge to try.
So, I present a longer side bar. I don't know if I'll keep it. I don' know if any other parts will reference it. But it was still worth writing. Others may enjoy it more than I do, or less. But to me it was interesting.
It also comes with a warning label. I do some raunchy stuff. Graphic. If you've read my other stories you know. What I don't usually do is sex in the service of cruelty. It makes me uncomfortable. So, feel free to stop or turn away. I won't judge. And make no mistake, this is NSFW.
By Au Goose
Julie was that kind of friend you love so much it’s ok she pisses you off too. They’d met in 6th grade, become tight in middle school, then puberty hit. Julie was blessed by the boob fairies... which was pure political capital going into high school. Things had been touch-and-go their junior and senior years. They'd run in very different circles. After graduation, Julie shed her bitchy friends and they’d grown close again. Of all the little things they had cold glaring matches over, Julie’s brother Alexander was the cornerstone of their worst arguments. He was nice. Really nice. At a time Hannah had needed really nice. Julie was very protective of her twin and Hannah had tried not to take it personally, because Julie hadn’t let anyone near him in high school.
If there was anyone to tell about her wish right now, it was Julie. She could have called but 'seeing is believing'. Hannah flew down and hovered outside her bedroom window.
It's a running gag that gamers live at home in the basement. Julie was a serious gamer and she did live at home... But instead of the basement she had had her own building on the back corner of the compound out past the pool. She even had her own driveway. Fortunately her parents were super cool. And heavy sleepers. Or maybe it was just when you had a mansion instead of a house you could afford good sound-proofing. Either way they’d thrown epic LAN parties at Julie’s without any neighbors complaining.
While bad 80’s movies had established the protocol of throwing rocks at the window to wake the sleeper up, Hannah went with the abbreviated version and just floated up and tapped the glass.
Julie came to the window after the third cluster of ratta-tat-tating. She unlatched the window and slid it half-way open, still rubbing a fist in her eye. “Really?”
“Come on. You’ve gotta be surprised.”
Julie slid the window open to three quarters and leaned out, looking for the crane or wires holding Hannah’s body horizontal at her eye level. “Ok, how are you doing that?”
“Um, I got superpowers and can fly now?”
Julie squinted at her in the universal ‘Not sure if Trolling’ expression. “Ok, I’m prepared to accept that provisionally. But only because nobody else I know would fly outside of a ground floor window. So my provisionally-Talented compadre, why are you levitating outside a window you could just walk up to?”
Julie let out a single bark of laughter. “You are such a dork. Get in here. I want to hear this story.”
“You’ll have to open it all the way... I don’t exactly fit through narrow openings the way I used to.”
Julie gave a ‘humph’ and slid it the rest of the way open. Hannah had to do a slow motion barrel roll as she came through to avoid any tits-or-ass demolition.
“Ok. Explain...” she waved at Hannah. “This.”
So Hannah tried to tell her about her day.
Hannah took a seat in mid-air and Julie climbed back up on her bed. She listened attentively and without comment until Hannah mentioned falling over backward and not dying. “Wait. You mean you broke the evil table?”
“Why does everyone call it that?!”
“Because it’s evil?” Julie mimed hoping on one foot holding up her other foot to protect her broken toes. “I had a cast for five weeks.”
“Ok, it was evil, but I still loved it.”
“I’m sorry about your table. But the rest of your day's looking pretty good.” Julie was hiding it like a master, but she'd been measuring Hannah's spectacular new body with the precision of a high-end London tailor.
Hannah went on, slightly downplaying the rocking orgasms. But she was quite proud of working up the gumption to bust through a wall. The both laughed at the richly deserved fate of the red car.
“Ok. Killer instance. Evil Genie. Three wishes. Game I introduced you to and didn’t get invited into. So what the hell did you wish for?” Julie had picked up a really nice replica batleth she had on a shelf and started poking Hannah with it. When Hannah didn’t flinch she poked her harder. When she still didn’t flinch Julie took a half-hearted swing and dropped the Klingon war-blade, cursing. It had bounced off of Hannah like hitting a big rock.
“I think I wished for Super everything. Well, Super every part of my body. The Genie didn't actually wait for me to say anything, he kinda just said ‘here you go’ and blasted me.”
Julie rolled her eyes. “Obviously the universe has a warped sense of humor. It took you three wishes to pretty much say ‘make me my character’.
Hannah nodded sheepishly. She’d kinda left out she’d been playing with Jenny and Karen.
Hannah thought of the wall crumbling over her face. “Yeah. Even my eyelashes, I guess.”
“And obviously Super-Breasts.”
“Obviously. Want to touch them?”
“No. Mine are plenty, thanks.” Julie was a big boned 5’11 Scandinavian snow bunny. One look and you knew where the legends of Valkyries came from. If Hannah was honest with herself, it was Julie’s body she’d used as a starting template the same way she’d started with her own face. Now she was really extra glad she’d dialed it up to 12. Ok, maybe 14.
“Besides, Hannah, you’re not even close to being bi.”
“I’ve been reevaluating it. You always made it sound nice. Come on, you know you want to touch them.” She stepped into Julie’s space, daring her to push them away.
“Having some new urges, huh?” Julie ducked out under Hannah’s imposing shelf before she mimed hefting tits even bigger than her own. “Look, I know plus size bras and lower back pain are new and exciting to you, but I’m gonna pass.”
“Urges? Yeaahh... I kind of have a Super-vagina too.”
Julie rolled her eyes. “What does that even mean?”
“Lets just say its better than the average pussy. I can do... things... a guy will like. Lots of things.” Hannah smirked.
Julie smirked back, not realizing how much of the joke she was missing.
“Sooo... You’re not freaked,” Hannah finally pointed at the elephant in the room.
“I am 130% freaked, but never let them see you sweat. I mean... Talent happens, right? It’s just super rare.”
“I kinda wish you were more freaked.”
“I’m sure the rest of our friends will make up for it. Jenny will have a outright nerd-gasm when she sees you. After you leave I promise to freak out just a little. For you.”
Hannah realized she wasn’t gonna get much more than that out of Julie.
“Lets go skinny dipping!” Hannah finally blurted out.
“Right now. You can take your nightie off here or do it in the pool...”
“You wouldn’t dare...”
Hannah lunged across the room and scooped up Julie in her arms. Julie fought like a tiger-striped kitten, but like a kitten she never had a chance. Hannah marched out the front door, flew ten feet over the center of the pool, and unceremoniously dropped her in.
“Yeah, I would.” Hannah declared sticking her tongue out.
Julie shucked her nightgown even before her head bobbed back to the surface. “That is SO unfair.” For the first time Julie sounded jealous. Like, the first time ever.
Hannah drifted down until she was standing on the rippling surface of the pool. Old memories came back to her and suddenly she wasn’t sure that skinny dipping was the best idea. She might be the new flower in bloom, but Julie was never going to be a frog.
“And now you really do walk on water,” Julie grumped.
Hannah flashed her best shit eating grin. She was really enjoying Julie having to look up at her... until Julie slapped the surface of the pool and an arc of water shot up and soaked her from head to toe. “Still the splash fight champion!” Julie laughed. “Now strip and get in the pool. Fair’s fair.”
Hannah sputtered a moment then walked across the water and over to an outdoor heater. She turned it on and laid out her clothes to dry. As Hannah disrobed with her back to Julie she heard her slip out of the water and start sneaking up behind her. Julie flung her sopping wet nightgown at her, but Hannah caught it without looking, like Julie had meant to pass it to her all along. She laid the gown out beside her own clothes and turned around at last.
“Oh. My. God.” Julie gapped at her. “Hannah. You’re beautiful...”
“Told 'ya. Super everything.”
“I take it back. Can I... Can I touch...?”
“Offer’s still open.”
Julie reached out, timid as a deer, and slowly drew her fingers up Hannah’s flanks, ignoring her breasts to trace the outlines of her ribs. Hannah shivered.
‘Goddamn it’ Hannah thought. ‘It doesn’t matter what happens to me. I can FLY and with three fingers Julie can still make me feel like a boob-obsessed little kid...’
Julie’s hands moved on, exploring Hannah like a blind person examining a face. In fact Julie’s eyes were closed as she ran fingers across Hannah’s every crease and swell.
Hannah felt like her insides were on fire. “Jesus, Julie, would you stop teasing me and just take me already!”
“I’m not going to make love to my oldest friend, Hannah.”
“Still not good enough for you... or your bother?”
“You can’t think that. Not before and certainly not now.”
“I don’t know what to think. I’ve never understood that part of you.”
“It’s not always about you, Hannah.”
Somehow the complete absence of condescension in Julie’s voice made it a thousand times worse. Like she was just too stupid to get something that should have been obvious. She growled. “I could make you.”
“You won’t force yourself on me. Because you are a good girl, Hannah Henderson.”
Hannah rose into the air just enough so she could rest her boobs on top of Julie’s, driving them down. God, it was so fucking good to be bigger than her. She wished she'd made them bigger. She wanted to dwarf Julie, to shame her and eclipse her beautiful body. “Am I? Am. I?
Julie held her ground. “Yeah, you are.”
“Damn you.” Julie never gave one fucking inch. Then Hannah scooped her up under her arms and launched into the sky. Instead of being intimidated Julie squealed with delight. And once again Hannah couldn’t stay mad at her.
“Oh fuck me, flying is awesome!”
“I did offer...” Hannah smirked.
They flew around the neighborhood for a half hour before Julie complained that she was getting wind burn. “I need some sort of flight suit.” she decided.
“So buy one.”
They touched down beside the pool and dressed in their toasty-warm clothes before Hannah carried Julie back into her bedroom. She heaved Julie across the room onto her bed like a ten-year-old, still leaving the lights off like some kind of illicit slumber party. Julie buried her face in a pillow laughing, maybe a little freaked out at last.
Hannah sat down beside her. “That was nice, but now I’m gonna go see Alexander.” After their face off by the pool Hannah had realized she had an old axe that needed grinding.
Julie levered herself up on her elbows and whispered “You stay away from my brother. I mean it.”
Hannah pressed her down flat to the bed again with a single open palm, the springs creaking louder then Julie's ribs. “What? Because your so-pretty brother deserves better than your pity friend? What did you used to call me to the rest of your bitch clique? Third rate? You still think that still even remotely applies now?”
“He’s not here.”
“I FLY Julie. I can be at his school in 5 minutes flat.”
“DON’T. YOU. DARE.” Julie shouted.
“Ooops. Now you’ve done it.” Hannah teased cryptically.
There was a muffled crash from the adjacent guest room and the creak of a door opening.
“Speak of the devil...” Hannah chuckled.
Over six feet of Viking muscle jerked open Julie’s bedroom door, leaping in with a bat held high. “Sis?” In the darkness his eyes went to the open window and he drew the bat back higher ready to brain any intruder.
Hannah sprang off the bed ignoring gravity so she could land lightly in front of him. She reached out and brushed his jaw, feeling the 278 bristles of his five o’clock shadow. She used to have to reach UP to do that. Now she stood eye to eye. She took a half step forward and tried the elbow test on him.
She didn’t fail this time either.
“Good timing, Alexander.” He hated when people shortened it to Alex. “I just finished catching up with Julie and wanted to show you what a great day I’ve been having...” She looked at Julie’s sleepy but chivalrous twin, seeing him clearly even in the half light. He was yummy, having filled in since she’d seen him last. Lots of gym time on display. Or Jogging. He used to love to jog.
“Hann- Hannah? Is that you?” His brain had placed the voice and oddly, the smell of her hair. But the womanly shadow in front of him was huge. Huge and really, really stacked according to the pair of twenty-five pound sacks of rice that were pining his chest to the wall.
“How did you know...?” Julie asked, almost forgotten on her bed.
“I’ve known the whole time,” Hannah answered with a shrug. The resulting tides under her shirt made Alexander’s eyes flick down and his cheeks flush. “’Super everything’ includes hearing. I recognized his breathing when I first came in your window.” She shrugged again seeing the effect it was having. Grinding on him was having an effect on her too. ’Super everything’ also included arousal it seemed. She was out of control now. She'd do or say anything, she wanted him soooo baaaad.
Alexander gulped air. As if reading her mind he asked , “What do you want?”
Hannah snapped the cord holding up her pants and wiggled her hips until they slid down her legs. Her musk made the hairs on his arms stand up like static electricity. “Want? There's nobody I wanted to be my first lover more, but your sister always warned me off. I finally had to bang that asshole Brett when it always should have been you. You know what, Alexander? I don’t think I’m gonna let Julie tell me what to do anymore. What I want is you. Inside me.”
“What... what if I say ‘no’?” he asked nervously, still in shock. Not that his body was saying no. With her scent in the air his body was jumping up and down yelling ‘pick me, pick me!’ He had never been so hard.
The idea that big, hunky Alexander might become the shy one was like drinking sweet wine. Hannah giggled in a way that wasn’t funny or cute at all. Fuck being 'a good girl'. She wanted to get drunk on his total and complete surrender to her body. Make his balls shrivel at the thought of touching anyone but her. Claim him forevermore.
Which ought to take about eighty seconds, she figured.
“First off, you won’t.” She tore off his pajama pants with her hooked pinky, releasing ten inches of stout manhood before turning her back to him and pinning his pelvis to the wall with her round bare buttocks. She leaned back into him and put her hands over her head until she found his hands still clinging to the bat. She swatted his little stick away and grabbed both his wrists, pulling his arms around her waist like a coat. Then she drew his hands up under her shirt. Even if he was resisting with all his might, she couldn’t tell. She didn’t care either. Spreading his fingers with her own, she gently cupped them against her new treasures.
She could feel his twitching member rise up between her swimmer's thighs. He grunted. “Hannah...? Your Breasts!” He asked in wonder, no longer needing her encouragement.
He knew! He knew it was her! Was it too much to hope he’d wanted her too? The big, strong hands she’d dreamed of in high school were ravishing her at last. To her it felt like an army of butterflies trying to tickle her into submission. Her flawless creamy skin was reading every loop and swirl of his finger prints as easily as you'd look up and read a billboard sign. Hot juice dribbled down her leg.
He let out an involuntary gasp. Alexander might not know why he was about to be raped by a marble statue of the Greek Goddess of Big Tits come to life, but he quickly gave up trying to squeeze those warm stone mounds and instead began to stroke them. The surprised catch of breath told him he had pleased the goddess, her nipples jabbing into his palms like a pair of steel ball bearings...
“And Second...” She looked right at Julie. “I’m not asking.” Her feet left the floor as she spread her knees, doing wide splits like a flying gymnast. Long, feminine fingers deftly slid the tip of his rock hard cock inside her exposed lower lips. Then she let gravity take hold, impaling herself on him.
Alexander hissed at her muscular tightness, a crushing grip relieved only by the ample lubrication of her slick juices.
Hannah had barely started and already she was gasping with him. Like something out of her dreams she was bending into sex poses worthy of a circus acrobat while the army of butterfly wings conspired to drive her mad. At the same time Alexander's penis moved inside her like an eighty-car freight-train filling her deepest tunnel with rumbling muscular power. She’d waited years for this fuck! Plus she would make Julie watch every second of it.
Hannah folded her legs behind her until the bottoms of her feet were resting on Alex’s buttocks, her bent knees pointing down at the floor and trapping his thighs. She used her heels to turn his pelvis upwards and drive that train another ten cars deeper into her greedy railway tunnel. His feet left the ground as she lifted them both up into the air, him hanging in the frame of her arched body. He felt the ground fall away and instinctively his hands went from exploring her outrageous curves to clinging to the jutting shelf of her breasts with the desperate strength of a man hanging from a cliff even as his chest pressed against her back like the second rider on a motorbike going 100 miles an hour.
Julie, neither gone nor forgotten looked up at her friend and her brother entwined and moaned at how beautiful they were. That body! She wanted to touch it again. No, to be that beautiful herself!
Hannah looked down and grinned at Julie in cold triumph. Then she put a finger to her lips. “Shhh. I know you want this to be you... You just sit and watch like a good girl. Watch while I finally get what I deserve. What you kept me from.” Just to rub it in, she floated closer until she could reach out with her free hand and wipe a smear of her sex juices down the bridge of Julie’s nose, its sweet smell hitting her like a bouquet of flowers in the face.
Julie only moaned more loudly as her friend’s pheromones overwhelmed her. It was like some twisted love potion scampering around her brain. The aroma made her want to mount one of her bedposts and bounce up and down until her eyes fell out. Hannah had only been teasing her before. If she’d really wanted Julie to make love to her, that’s exactly what would have happened.
Hannah let out a shocked gasp of her own. Despite the precariousness of his position, Alexander had leaned in, burrowing his face into her hair until his lips found her ear and he began to suck Hannah’s earlobe, his hot breath echoing in her ear. She answered his daring by using one hand to steady him while the other slid down her taut belly to nestle in her groin. The span of her elegant hand was enough to finger her fully engorged Super-clit and cup his balls at the same time. Then, still entirely in mid-air, Hannah’s whole body began to jerk up and down.
At first the quick, sharp jolts were like shaking a salt shaker. Alexander’s pelvis was a marble rattling inside the steel cage of her ass and feet. His eyes rolled up into his head as she ratcheted up the tempo, her upper torso steadying but her hips bucking faster and faster until Hannah was riding an invisible jackhammer, the outline of her thighs blurred by vibrations that would cut through concrete. Alexander wasn’t even trying to hold on now - it was more like weathering a hurricane trying to devour his dick. Storm warnings were in effect and evacuation was advised. Tropical Storm Hannah had just gone class 5 with maximum potential for property damage and loss of life. She held him in place effortlessly while she flew up and down his rigid length a half-dozen times a second. Alex’s dick would have caught fire if not for Hannah’s juices. No man was built for such intense pleasure. He began to flop like a ragdoll as Hannah literally fucked his brains out.
Julie scooted back against the mound of her pillows, pulled her knees to her chest and curled into a ball. Hannah wasn’t just mocking her - she was showing Julie that there would never be any real competition between them ever again. She whimpered as Alexander’s grunting gave way to a final, wheezing exhalation and ropes of cum mixed with Hannah’s sweet juices splashed over his balls and across Hannah’s thighs, droplets staining the edge of her bed. But she didn’t look away. No one could have.
Hannah drifted down, laying Alex’s limp form out on the edge of the bed. Straddling him now, Hannah kept her knees spread wide so Julie could see everything. Her hands were deeply kneading her breasts in a way that Alex would never accomplish, exerting strength that could have crushed the whole building into a paperweight. Because even if Alex had blacked out or worse, tonight's lesson on the vast gulf between woman and Superwoman was far from done. 'That's right little girl... I. Am. A. God. Now. and you will fucking cower before me and paint pictures of my greatness on the walls of you cave,' she thought.
Julie stared. Even unconscious, her bother’s penis was raised like a flagpole and Hannah - no, Super Hannah - was twitching her subtle inner muscles so fast they were vibrating, the low humming keeping him harder than Chinese algebra. His balls twitched spasmodically, trying to fire load after load up into her waiting snatch but she'd already fucked him dry and kept demanding more. Super Hannah's tautly muscled body was more powerful than any bulldozer, any tank, any train. She'd cast away the mask of mere womanhood and revealed to Julie she was a raging star walking among cool fireflies. This wrathful goddess was going to punish her by fucking her brother to death...
Hanna saw her shining eyes even in the near darkness. “Oh... Don’t cry, Julie. Don’t cry. Not yet.”
Julie was mesmerized. She could see Super Hannah sucking her brother up inside herself and squeezing him out again with nothing but the magnificent control of her steely vaginal muscles and the throbbing grip of her plush lips. When Hannah had warned that even her vagina had become super, Julie had thought she was joking. But this... was Sexual Crack. Super Hannah would be instantly addictive - one time and you're hooked for life. There weren’t even words for what was happening to Alexander. Was this what Uber-sex was like? When a God touched you? Total domination not just for one night, but ruining them for life with a single fuck? Because if so, she wanted it. She wanted everything Super Hannah had become. Whatever had happened in A-O, it should have been her, dammit!
“Julie...?” Hannah snapped her fingers a few times until Julie looked at her face “Julie. I’m gonna do your boyfriend next.”
Julie recoiled like she’d been slapped. “Why would you...?”
“BECAUSE YOU LEFT ME WITH BRET!” Hannah exploded with years of repressed fury. The cold, even tone returned: “In fact, you’re gonna be the most popular bachelorette in the state. Because every guy you ever take to bed is getting a visit from me next. Well... if they’re cute.”
Julie's eyes widened in horror and little sniffle escaped her then.
“That's right, I'm making you my personal herald. Men won't even see you anymore, just a doormat they have to wipe their feet on before they can come inside me." Hannah went on relentlessly uber-fucking Alex, the complex contractions of her belly and vaginal walls a symphony. No one had ever given such pleasure to a man and he started to thrash again under her. Making Julie watch a true Goddess in action.
"And the ones that thought they really cared for you? Those are the BEST. When I’ve touched every part of them and let them touch every part of me... When I make them scream out my name over and over... I’m gonna wipe my ass with them and give them back to you. They won't even remember your name. Then we’ll see Who–”
Wham! Hannah bounced on Alex’s crotch like a trampoline, shaking the whole bed.
“Is Third–” Wham! Her divine juices splashed across the comforter and their bodies.
“Rate!” Wham. She took him in as deep as he could possibly go. The powerful contraction that rolled up her smooth belly, shook her epic tits, and lifted her narrow chin poured out from between her perfect full lips in a single squeak of uncontrolled joy.
'FINALLY! Finally, finally...' echoed through her soul.
Alexander. is. MINE.
Hannah paused in her moment of triumph, lifting off her battered lover at last. She squatted over Alexander like a lioness over a slaughtered gazelle. Dozens of old slights avenged in a single act of cruelty and dark fulfillment.
Julie was sobbing now.
“This isn’t me...” Hannah whispered so quietly not even Alex would have heard her if he’d been conscious. “Oh Julie...” Hannah rolled across the bed and wrapped herself around the weeping ball that was her childhood friend. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t. I don't. It’s just– It’s just you hurt me, you know? You really hurt me.”
Julie uncoiled slightly “I know,” she whispered into Hannah’s hair.
“I really do like your bother. I'd never hurt him.”
“I know that too." The floodgates opened. “You were always good enough for him. And the way he looked at you. God, I hated you in high school. You were so god-dammed kind. And strong. You didn't step aside for anyone. I should have been a queen and then I'd watch you walking proud and I felt like a filthy piece of shit. After graduation I couldn't even look at you until I'd made myself a better person. I'd been such a bitch. And you took me back. Even then, you took me back..."
Hannah had never heard that story before.
Julie's hand reached out blindly until she clutched Alexander's limp foot, feeling its warmth and the strong pulse. "We've always been together, but he'd have left me for you. I was the jealous one. And now you have everything... Super-everything,” she sniffled a little.
There it was. That was the victory she really wanted without even knowing it. Not some super-bitch sex show. She just wanted an apology. Hannah hugged her gently. “Well, don’t be jealous. Please don’t be jealous. I want you to be happy for me. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Maybe the best thing that’s has ever happened, period.”
“I want to fly, Hannah... It could have been me.” Julie sniffled. She’d been the one that had told Hannah to sign up for the A-O beta test.
“Yeah, it could have. You’re a way better tank than me. But I can’t just make it happen to you.”
It came right up out of the depths of 12 years of friendship. A little girl’s plea: “Why not?”
With her face still buried in long red hair, Julie couldn’t see that her question had pole-axed Hannah. Something had finally slid right past Hannah’s invulnerability and knocked her for a loop.
“I... You know... I don’t know...?”
Julie finally looked at her, her face puffy with tears. “Can we try?”
Hannah stroked her hair, then gently squeezed her again, laying Julie's head down against her breast like a child. Weaker than a child compared to her own immeasurable strength. Did she really want to give this up? After finally winning - no, dominating - a contest she'd been locked in half her life?
Or would she rather pin Julie down, MAKE her finally want to suck the huge breasts dangling in her face? Or listen to the lullaby of Julie begging night after night to worship her body as a goddess deserved. Turn her clever friend into a mindless plaything whose sole desire was licking Hannah's clit until her goddess came like a fire hose. Only to be dragged into the sky, her face held to Hannah's gushing cunt until she nearly drowned in the juices, her only pathetic desire to be allowed to lap up more? Because Hannah knew she had the power to do all those things. She could ruin Julie. If she wanted.
Was it the beginning of cruel and lovely lie when she finally whispered, "...We'll try."?
Hannah didn't know, but she had the sinking feeling maybe it was.
Its funny how non-linear writing is compared to reading. Dancing back and forth to start loops of self-reference and then close them. Always nice when a tale writes itself, but for me most of the time its a ton of calculated back-stage puppetry. ((shakes fist)) Curse you Chekov's gun! Such a simple rule shouldn't have so much power. Sometimes the punch line occurs to you first and you have to go backward through time to tell the joke properly. Does anyone else feel like they have to work to create echoes?
I'm always amazed at web comic writers who have to keep their balance on an ever rising pile of logs as publishing a strip locks down the past. I have to believe that they (at least the good ones) are working months ahead in the story telling... at least in outline form. Sometimes that's what I want to be when I grow up .
Edit: Wow. I haven't heard from Lioness in a while, but guess what shook loose?
By Au Goose
Phalanx heaved the beam aside opening up a new pocket in the rubble. He looked down at the shreds that had been people... children... only minutes ago... He turned away retching.
“Steady...” Lioness said, looking down into the new pit and turning pale.
“I... I just need a minute.”
“We’ve got to keep going.” She said, almost robotically.
“What is your problem, Lioness?”
“My problem is YOU, Phalanx.” All her frustration boiled up and blew the lid off her own fragile cool. “My problem is doing this, doing some good... Its not a conviction for you. It’s just a goddamn hobby. Something you do to pass the time.”
He glared at her, trying to decide how hard to hit back. The tightness in his eyes said ‘full force, bitch’. She’d stung him in a way not even alien laser cannons had.
“Do you think they care, Lioness? Do you think the people I save care that I’m not broken inside and doing it to try and glue all the little shards back together?”
Her eyes were like saucers. “What did you just sa–“
“You heard me. You’re not better than me because some drunken ass-fuck hurt you. You don’t get to judge me because you think I’d rather be lounging on the beaches in Monaco covered in pussy. I. Do. The. Work. That’s all I fucking have to do to justify myself. The goddamn world is still here, Lioness. So ‘yay us’. Yay all of us who step up. Now you decide whether actions or backstory means more in the greater scheme of things and STOP RIDING MY ASS.”
A four-word-phrase which would make tabloid headlines for weeks, because everyone in a twelve-mile radius had heard Phalanx’s final shout.
“I can still hear people down there...” She said quietly, the rage draining out of her. It should never have come to this.
“I know....” he answered softly. “I just needed moment.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Help me lift that one over there. It’s a two person job.”
She nodded, fighting back the tears.
Hours later - long after midnight - he stood with her watching the ambulances. They'd pulled 177 people out of the ruble. They didn't know how many... hadn't made it. It would be weeks before they did. A lot, though.
"I'm sorry." He said.
She just took his and squeezed it.
"I don't know what drives you. But I'm sorry. Because I know it hurts you."
She just kept looking out over the field of destruction.
"But you'd be here anyway, Lioness. You're a good person" He squeezed her hand back.
"Just let other people be good too, ok?" He said letting her fingers slide between his, finally lifting into the sky to put the awful night behind him. "It's all we can do."
- - -
The situation map of New York was an expanding puddle of red. Like the blood it represented.
“Oh my god...” Angeleah’s hand came to cover her mouth. “I was only gone a couple hours! What... What did I miss?”
“It’s Black Athena, Lioness. I’m not sending you. She’s bad enough against anyone, but she’s like kryptonite to all of Liam’s Legacy.”
“But I have to-”
Jason spoke quietly, “She’ll kill you, Taylor.”
She'd heard those words before, from someone who would know. But it sounded so much more real when he said it. Because while she hungered for the chance to risk it all and stop that monster, he was afraid for her.
Mueller went on, “You know her MO. It’ll be a slaughter for a few hours but then she’ll just disappear again...”
“You can’t be ok with that!”
“I never have been, but it’s not a perfect world.” The general replied archly. “Phalanx is already on his way. He’s probably the only committed ORCA asset that can go toe-to-toe with her. And even he knows he’s just there to minimize the casualties.”
Taylor blanched. The Lioness and Phalanx had... history. She’d thought he was a poser, a try-hard with no guts. Instead he’d turned out to be a regular guy, just trying to be good. They’d fought off one of Bone Master’s necrobots and the fight had spilled over into a school. Bone Master was a truly twisted piece of work: he’d sent more skeletons to prevent any evacuation. It was a slaughter and while she and Phalanx knew where to place the blame, there was still blood on both their hands.
A slaughter like was happening again, right now.
Angeleah looked down at her hands. She didn’t remember clenching them into fists.
“She’s not gonna disappear this time, General,” she said with certainty that brooked no argument.
The general looked at her, head cocked, wondering what she didn’t know. Yet.
“She’s not alone. Blacksite will be there too.”
“Why would they work together? They’re nothing alike. Totally different theaters of operation. She's a one-woman act, never teamed up with anybody. Neither has he, that we know of.”
“Because she’s in love with Liam. And she thinks Blacksite IS Liam.”
The general took a half step back under the blow. “Oh. Oh... That is a recipe for cataclysm. We have to warn Phalanx.”
“No, we have to warn him and back him up. I’ll hang back– work search and rescue. But John’s got to have no distractions if he’s gonna take on the two of them. Come on, Merete...” Angeleah rarely used her first name, and never in vain. “Those people need us. This is what ORCA is for.”
The general stood firm with her arms crossed under her breasts, but Taylor saw the one finger tapping her arm as she weighed the outcomes. Measured the cost. Counted the dead.
“Ok... but we go loaded for bear. Double... no- ALL the tactical support teams and we try to round up Sky Breaker and anybody else fast enough to get there that’s NOT one of Liam’s.”
Angeleah was thanking the older women with her eyes.
“Don’t thank me. We’re gonna need a truckload of body bags too if we do this. And you stay the hell back when we get there, Lioness. Orders, this time.”
“Yes, Sir!” she said with unusual sincerity. “When do we leave, Sir?”
“We leave ten minutes ago. Go grab Spider by the scruff of the neck and catch up!” She turned to the railing, barking commands to the rest of the war room that kicked the base like an ant hill. Lights had already been flashing but now claxons began to sound.
Taylor was already flying towards the special barracks. She hoped Spider was packed, but knew she didn’t have to worry. Spider was always ready to throw down above his weight class.
- - -
Mueller met them on the tarmac as Spider was testing the last of the clips that would cinch him and his gear to the now fully suited-up Lioness.
“Spider?” Her voice cut through the crushing drone of a dozen VTOL’s idling before take off. Spider was the Lioness's only qualified high-speed passenger and they’d hit the crisis zone a good ten minutes ahead of the helos if they left now.
“General?” He half-shouted back.
“Have you ever murdered anyone?"
Spider’s eyes narrowed. “Under the terms of my conditional pardon I can neither confi–“
“Don’t bullshit me, boy. Yes or no.”
Spider was still never one to stay inside of any box you put him in. “Once. But they needed killing.”
Taylor looked at him, trying to fit that answer into what she knew. She didn’t think she’d ever really hear him admit it.
“Good. Then I won’t feel as monstrous as usual when I tell you, if you see any shot on Blacksite, you take it and you don’t stop for permission. I want him murdered. Do you understand me, alpha convict 78 dash 115?”
“Perfectly, Warden Mueller. This prisoner will comply.”
Mueller may have wanted to reach out and slap the false mask of subservience right off his face, but she visibly dropped her shoulders and let it go. Then Angeleah saw something she never expected. Mueller snapped Spider a crisp salute, dropped it before even he could make a joke of it, and spun on her heel turning her back to them both. “Carry on, then.”
She strode away without looking back.
Spider craned his neck around and looked at Angeleah in wonder. “Did she just–”
“Don’t even say it, Spider. She didn’t ask if you killed somebody.”
Spider saw the darkness in her eyes. “He deserved it, Taylor. Monsters deserve it.”
“Does that make it right?”
“No. But it makes it so I can live with myself. Because if I hadn’t done it, I couldn’t live with myself.” Spider was looking inward, seeing a horror that made his shoulders tremble.
She almost asked. But she saw in the bleakness of his eyes he wouldn’t have shared if she did. “I hate trusting you.”
“Don’t trust me. Go save people, Taylor. And let me save the people that Blacksite would kill the next time if he walks away from this.”
She thought of Phalanx again, and what he had said.
It was all they could do.
- - -
This is much more in my wheelhouse. Enjoy .
By Au Goose
Hannah had arrived at the mall first, trying her first public superhero landing and feeling it was pretty good but maybe hadn’t nailed it. But after that she had no trouble getting a good table at the outdoor food court as people fell over themselves getting out of her way. She threw back her arms and stretched, facing into the sun and heard the faux-shutter clicks of a hundred phone cameras. That felt right.
Karen just appeared in her usual - ok, usual inside a video game - swirl of living Darkness. She shielded her eyes against the sun and took the chair directly under the shade of the umbrella. She wished she'd brought a hat.
Jenny flew down last with a sleek black portfolio under her arm. She was wearing a long white dress trimed with gold that was a good recreations of the third in-game costume she'd come up with. She also had an adorable black bolero jacket and the cutest 2-inch heels. The whole ensemble pretty much designed to showcase the living angel's HEAVENLY BREASTS. Hannah still couldn't explain how those boulders could look so perfect on her otherwise slender torso.
Hannah laughed: She and Karen were in some of their loosest street casuals, some pieces mined from boxes of old boyfriend-clothes to accommodate their now more... robust... frames. All perfectly legitimate mall-wear but Jenny was full-on cosplaying as herself. Jen was a minor deity of the sewing machine even before their wishes came true, but she must of corralled three of her cosplay buddies to work all night to create what she was wearing now. She stopped laughing when Jenny walked towards them at their table. She moved with a liquid grace, equal parts innocent maiden and runway strut. There was NOTHING of normally timid Jenny in that walk. Her broad hips were swinging like a church bell and the faithful came at its call. They had a captive audience that was steadily growing and truth be told they LOVED IT all.
Karen called out to Jen from the shadows, still laughing. Then she intoned in slow cadence like a Shakespearean actor: “I like. Big butts. And I. Cannot lie...”
Now they were enjoying lunch at an outdoor table at the top of the biggest mall in the city almost like they were three ordinary twenty-somethings dining out. One a little over-dressed and all of them way, Way, WAY over-built. The packed lunch crowd had only gotten worse as cautious onlookers gathered. They had a whole smorgasbord in front of them and hadn’t paid a thing. At first guys kept bringing trays to their table just to be close to the trio before scampering away to work their dicks furiously behind the big planter boxes. They couldn't help but be intimidated. Especially after Karen had reached over and pulled one guy's pants down and then laughed in his face at what she found. Not a mean laugh either, but like is was really funny. There were news crews now. And maybe ambulances. People had fainted as the three overwhelmingly Talented young women settled in for a full lunch.
Now two jacketed waiters from one of the nearby restaurants were trading impeccable table service for the chance to look down their fronts every time a new dish arrived or the women needed a fresh fork. Hannah was willing to take that deal. She'd been able to hear the whole staff locked in the most furious game of rock-paper-scissors of their lives to be the ones who walked out to the table as if the trio of goddesses had the most ordinary reservations and had simply chosen to dine outdoors. There was a cute blonde waitress too, darting in and out like a fish with her crystal pitcher. Judging by her smell she was probably hornier than the guys even though compared to their outrageous figures she looked like a little girl bringing water to the grown-up table. In fact, Hannah deliberately inhaled deeply every time one of their server's heads bowed forward over her shelf. Live it up, boys and girls. She felt SO sexy with them staring at her tits trying to not look like they were staring at her tits...
Karen had moved up from fast food to a huge hunk of bloody-rare steak that had just sort of appeared on the table. Somebody had guessed right. Jenny was slurping a big bowl of Japanese noodle soup and complaining that now there was zero chance that if she dripped it wouldn’t end up on her chest. Hannah was still secretly sneaking peeks at Jenny's Boobs just like the waiters. You had to capitalize them. Boobs. Titties. Upper Frontal Buttocks. ‘Guess I’m always gonna be jealous of the bigger girls’ she sighed. All and all a delightful meal in the making. Then, when she least expected it–
“You banged Alexander, didn’t you.” It wasn’t even a question. Karen pierced her to the core like she had no armor rating at all. Stupid Hunter skills. It wasn't just her guns that had the [soul-piercing] tag.
Jenny’s hand flew to her mouth. “No...? Oh, you must have needed that. You’ve been diddling yourself to pictures of him as long as I’ve known you."
"How could you know th-" Hannah was mortified.
"There's like 90 pictures in that folder on your desktop and your passwords suck. Admit it Hannah, you're a stalker. Finally made your move? Good for you!”
Hannah blushed a deep crimson nearly the shade of her hair, but wasn’t going down without a fight. “Ok you admit it too, guys... You both did something totally sexy last night too? With bodies like ours, you had to. Super-girls got NEEDS, right? Please say 'yes'. I don't wannna feel like I'm the only nympho in school...”
Karen smiled. “Only?" She snapped her fingers and the city sounds and the murmur of the crowd they'd drawn died. Stealth powers. She'd let them look, but they'd have to lip read this next part. "My apartment looks like somewhere in the Middle East. Like there’s been shelling. Bombs dropped. Every single window shattered. I summoned three max level Immortal Shadows... At the same time. Then I had my own private orgy until two exploded into ectoplasm. One burst as we were fucking in the shower... I was swimming in him when I found out he wasn't really dead..." She shivered. "it licked my whole body everywhere... even inside... It was 1,001 nights meets 1,001 tongues. The third never popped, but he begged to go back to The Darkest Hells where they just had succubus'es instead of ME. 'Those horny bitches are easier to satisfy', he told me. I turned him loose at dawn and caught a power-nap. Longest solo instance ev-er." She shivered. “...Wait? Does that just count as masturbation then?”
“No...” Jenny looked at her with a kind of awe. “That counts as all kinds of awesome. I wanna do a Big-Boy Shadow Demon. Or, you know, three...” Her wings fluttered helplessly. A real angel-devil sex act was just about pure fanfic poetry to the little nerd inside the buxom angel's body.
Karen looked a little dreamy-eye’d herself. “They’ve got two cocks under those loincloths they wear, so they can fill both holes at they same time... And each one’s like something that belongs on a Black Stallion. Thoroughbred dick. I’m talking DEEP penetration. Plus they’re from Hell, so they know all the naughty moves. You don’t read that about that in the game description text.”
“Ohhh!” Jenny pouted, “I wanted to have the best story. I tried really hard, too! But a sex demon-orgy is cheating...”
Hannah snickered feeling a little hot under the collar herself. “Fess up, Jenny. What did you do?”
“I flew to the campus stadium and found the football locker room. It was just before night practice and all of them were there.”
“No...” Karen gapped at her, her hands gripping the patio table until the fiberglass started to crack. Karen liked athletes. Really liked them. Jenny was describing her perfect buffet: steak wasn't the only meat she liked to eat.
“Yeah, the door was locked of course but I could hear them in there joking and getting suited up. So I gabbed the handle and tore out a chunk bigger than a diner plate, walked in and dropped it on the floor with this awesome clatter. The whole locker room went quiet.”
“Go on...” Karen's wide eyes gleamed.
“They were all staring at me, which felt really good. I tried to strike this cool movie starlet pose and show off my goods.” She leaned back taking a pose straight from Marylyn Monroe's personal arsenal, nearly lifting her breasts out of the cups of her dress. Beyond the circle of silence a number of teens and men alike crumpled.
“Rowrr. I could see some of them in the front were already getting hard which also felt really good. I was all ‘Anybody married either get out or just watch. You’re disqualified. The rest of you: I’m not a screamer, but the first player to make me howl gets a quarter of their time shaved off their best mile and adds an extra thousand pounds to their bench press. You’ll be the top draft pick and MVP for the rest of your life.’”
Hannah just let out a long, low whistle. Jenny always offered the best bribes. The thing you never knew you couldn't say 'no' to. Sure, her every part was Super, but Jen's War Angel-powers could make Super-Partners...
Karen was actually making gurgling sounds as her knees ground together. Hannah realized then she might not have the biggest nips at the table as Karen's dark tee-shirt tented over two walnuts.
“I thought they’d line up, you know, for tryouts... But they kind of tag teamed me. At one point I swear there were 20 dicks rubbing me or in me. They really are team players in football. They were like... organized... fucking every part of me. Ground game, passing, tight ends, going for that looong bomb... Ooohhh... it's a Blitz!! I was the stadium for the gang-banger’s Rose Bowl. There were parades and floats and cheerleaders twirling batons, and I did a LOT of screaming. We must have painted every bench and table in the whole place with my juices. They're gonna have to replace half the lockers too. It was wall-to-wall sex."
Their waitress slumped to her knees, one hand up under her skirt, the other darting in and out of her mouth as she sucked two of her fingers, imaging the other 18 cocks ravishing her every opening.
"So I raid-buffed my top six picks to say 'thanks!' I mean, sure, the quarterback had been calling the plays, but there was this one receiver who tasted better than any of them. A running back with just the best hands, I mean they just fit around my Boobs like he'd never drop that ball!"
(...even Jenny had to capitalize her Big Breasts - she'd made them that way after all...).
"And there was one tongue that reigned supreme, I dunno, maybe a kicker? Special teams? Phew... And that line-backer... Oh my God, when he mounted me it was like the sky was falling and made out of meat. He was HUGE. I thought he wasn't going to stop until he had hammered me right through one of the benches. The wood was groaning, you know? But I was groaning louder." She paused, her mischievous smile turning sweet. "Plus number six: the guy that didn't touch anything but my neck and ears. Oh the things he whispered... I don't think he was even on the team. Just right place right time. I definitely howled for him. My personal MVP."
Now Jenny's nips were threatening to tear through her top too. Hannah suddenly felt like hers weren't maybe so big after all... "I couldn't pick just one you know? It wouldn't be fair. So zap! The six of them all got four inches taller and really ripped. Not bulky, just maximally chiseled. They might have gotten 4 inches longer too." Jenny rested her pixie's-chin in her hand and tapped her full red lips with a perfectly manicured finger like she was trying to remember. Then her eyes narrowed and she shot them a smoldering look that said she absolutely remembered...
"I was gonna be all cool and say ‘thank you all for the lovely time’ which is hard to make look good when you’re dripping in cum. I mean even my wings were soaked and that must take a lot of cum. But I guess I overdid it. Too much +Stamina. They kind of did me again before I could fly away. All-star exhibition game: just the six of them while the rest of the team cheered.”
Jenny knew she had them wrapped around her finger now. “ProTip: bet on the home team this year. They’re gonna win big.”
Hannah just stared. Her mouth hanging open.
“I...” Karen swallowed loudly, still panting. ”I’m prepared to call that a draw. If you are.”
“Trade places next time?” Jen offered.
“Fuck yes?! Deal! This afternoon good for you?”
“I’m not doing anything else. I'm sure the team will all... cum... if I suggest a 'special practice session' for my friend.” Jenny laughed. “Any of you feeling strange compulsions to patrol the city and stop muggings? I’m totally not.”
“It might be fun...?” Hannah suggested, still dazed just listening to Jenny’s story. Finally giving a flying fuck to her high school dream-guy seemed kinda tame. The others had great powers too, obviously, but she was the 'Super' one. She needed to up her game...
“Well I’m full.” Karen announced. There was a pulse of darkness on Karen's plate and the last of her steak went into an extra dimensional doggie bag.
“Do you think we should pay for this?” Hannah waved at the table.
“Oh, that reminds me!” Jenny leaned over and unzipped the black portfolio she'd had leaned against her chair since she’d sat down. She pulled out a slender stack of papers, divided it, and passed half to each of them along with a pen.
“This is ‘money is for other people’. After my little exercise session last night I had idea. Two actually. I gate-crashed an Owners meeting of the NFL this morning. I offered to buff their players’ toughness enough so they can’t have career ending-injuries anymore for a million dollars a player. They won’t play better, but they can play harder and not get hurt. Apparently they've had similar deals with the Talented before. I always thought there was something fishy with the '09 season. I may also have hinted that the service would require... intimate... contact.”
She smirked. It’s not every day you get to tell you’re besties you’d lined up sack time with the whole NFL.
“Signing the top sheet gives you 1/3rd share of the account they’re depositing the fees into. The next three cover all the tax issues and liability.”
Karen just blinked.
Hannah found her voice first. “whuuut?” Clever, Hannah. Real clever.
“There’s about 60 million in the account now and I expect it’ll double before Sunday when word gets around. I give good buff. I might have to take off for a few hours though. Work stuff.” It was the most shit eating grin Hannah had ever seen. On anyone.
She saw them both still staring. The old, geeky Jenny suddenly peered out at them. “What? I’m the living Goddess of Victory and I break games. Now say ‘thanks’.” She smiled like it was no big thing. To her it probably was no big thing. She was used to splitting the loot.
“Th-anks?” Karen and Hannah offered in unison.
Jenny went on “I thought you maybe wouldn’t want my money, so the next ten pages are offer letters from top designers. Seattle, Los Angeles, New York, London... Paris too, but fuck those guys, their models are stick figures. Anyway each of them’s around 10 million dollars to wear some clothes made just for you. Neither of you are exactly off the rack shoppers now, are you? One year, option to renew if both parties are satisfied. You’d need to do six shows, travel a little, and about another ten days in the studio for fittings. Easy money. And it comes with runway classes if you want them. I mean, in case you wanted guys' tongues to hang out more.”
"Jesus, girl!" Karen barked. "When did you sleep?"
"We're superheroes! Who has time for sleep?" Jen asked, genuinely baffled by the question. Given how high her energy regen rate was in-game...
Hannah was still trying to keep up. "You flew to Paris?"
"No, silly. E-mail. I sent them some very convincing selfie-videos and told them 'I'm not the pretty one'."
Karen finally found her footing. “You... you are diabolical.”
Jenny smiled, “Says the half-demon woman with the killer's eyes. Believe me, there are tons of guys who will be way more into you than me. You’re gonna look great in Garret Fox’s fall line up. His offer's on page 8.”
She stood up. “Come on. Sign off and lets go play.” Just to ram the point home she opened her little black clutch and dropped three one-thousand dollar bills on the top of table. Then she thought about it and added another two bills each with the same number of zeros on them to the pile. “No one will mind cleaning this up.” The she knelt over their waitress who was passed out at their feet. She ran her hands over the girl’s chest, exploring without the slightest regard for her modesty. Then she leaned in and kissed her forehead. The girl spasmed upwards a foot or more like she’d just been shocked with defibrillator paddles. But when she the hit the ground again her tight skirt and tighter button-up shirt both burst like the proverbial overripe fruit. The girl’s figure had been pumped full with about a quarter of what had happened to Hannah.
She looked up at them both with a mischievous grin. “Too big of a tip, you think? ‘Cause I thought she gave great service. Such a good listener.”
“You are crazy...” Karen breathed. Then applied herself to signing her paperwork.
“Come on, it’s not like she’s competition for US. Share the love, Karen. When you win a lottery, you share the love.”
Hannah started signing too, becoming a multi-millionaire with a flourish of a pen.
She was DEFINITELY going to have to up her game.
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Since your special liking for angel-like female, my best guess is that you raided as an Human priestess in WoW
Thanks for sharing. I'm really liking your style.
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I was actually making a new character in the otherwise unmemorable Perfect World Elysium so the notion of bending the sliders to make a face that's not some sloe-eyed passive cow was on my mind. I really have had people follow me around in flocks in some virtual worlds, I like to think for the reasons given in story - I try to embrace the microscopic flaws that make it real. I may dredge up some screenies to illustrate , not that any game will let me make something as good as Absolute Overpower... yet.
The ending is done, so I just need one more middling to connect the dots and tie it up in a bow . Time for Karen to shine. I'm also scrubbing the existing parts trying to cut down on length and tighten the narrative (without sacrificing too much luxuriant description).
Be careful what you wish for. Someone might get it...
By Au Goose
So big, that when you thought about it, really thought about it in a way only about eight people on Earth even tried to, it still dwarfed a number 19-million digits long. A million was 7 digits, a billion 10, a trillion at 13... So 19-million digits seemed really big... but up against infinity, it was still just a mote of dust in the eye of God.
If you thought about 19-million digits like a normal person, it was like removing the decimal point from π - the numbers went on forever. A professor's joke about REAALLLYY BIG numbers, something indistinguishable from infinity.
But it's not a real number.
She’d been walking across campus, enjoying the cool October air. October was still ‘Indian summer’ in Berkley, but today the weather had been almost crisp, a welcome relief from the heat. She’s just turned a corner into a little alley between buildings when she saw Liam unexpectedly waiting for her. He had the sweetest smile and his eyes twinkled like the Devil. “Happy birthday, Eu-fùnh!” Liam Tyrell Walker half-shouted, her beloved smiling ear to ear.
She moved to him wrapping herself around him in surprised happiness. “Its not my birthday you silly man,” she said ending with a loving kiss. He was a sweet boyfriend and tried always to be a fitting mate to her name, Playful Phoenix. He must have some new joke or wordplay ready to delight her quicksilver mind...
“It’s not? Well I got you a birthday present anyway. Three wishes! One for me and one for you and one for us. " He closed is eyes as if concentrating. "For your birthday I wish you'd get 1% stronger every year.”
She quirked a thin, elegant eyebrow at him. Eu-fùnh Caldwell had gotten the best of both worlds from her Chinese-American heritage, her face like a Peter Jackson movie-elf cast in soft gold. Arwen's hawt Asian sister. Liam’s fascination with supergirls wasn’t his most charming feature, but it was certainly an integral part of his nature. And if she loved the whole, she could love the parts.
“One Percent? Ok... I can do that for you.” She said, thinking he meant he was asking her to work out more as her present to him each year. Cosplaying for him had turned out surprisingly fun, white and green spandex pulled across her body, his eyes wide with lust and joy. She certainly had the sleek body for it and throwing around big foam blocks painted with “10,000 lb.“ on the side had made her nearly as aroused as him.
...Unless he meant it as some kind of fantasy they'd play out this year? Albert Einstein had called compound interest "the 8th wonder of the world." She had a good enough mathematics background to see where that could lead. You had to, to major in Astronomy. But it wouldn't amount to much even if it were retroactive to the day she was born. Twenty three percent and change for 21 years of growth? That was far short of his usual fantasies. Still, she smiled, and flexed for him invitingly. She would love to get even that much stronger. She kissed him again, "And a wish for me?"
“For you, my lovely star-watcher, I wish you could see the world. From the beginning.”
She smiled at this silly game. "I dunno... that's a long time ago. Quite a few birthdays since then..." She laughed. As if the word 'long' somehow covered almost 5 billion years. It was an amount of time beyond human comprehension.
His grin only grew wider, "I know." His hands crooked in an odd little gesture, like tugging on strings.
Suddenly she was floating in a brilliant warm cloud, a fierce young star in the distant haze of proto-stellar gas. A knot, a little swirl in the dust beneath her began to chew through the mist, gathering everything around it as the Earth was born from a mote in the eye of God. It was BEAUTIFUL. She looked around in awe, wondering at what he had done. "How is this possible?" she mouthed, but there was no sound as if she actually were in space. She looked down realizing he'd also dressed her in their cosplay costume. Gleaming in the sunlight she filled it out far better than she ever had before, her curves extravagantly gorgeous. The third wish she guessed, 'for them both'. His super-girl, quite invulnerable to this little jaunt through the heavens. She laughed but again there was no sound. If her beloved had found some genie's lamp, he'd spent all his wishes on her.
Looking down at the gravitational whirlpool beneath her feet, she could see the swirling speed up, time compressing. A taste of near-orgasmic pleasure washed over her body as her birthday arrived. As it faded, she knew she’d gotten 1% stronger. The dust below her continued to gather when it happened again. Before she could catch her breath a third birthday party made itself known in her eager flesh. A fifth, ninth, twenty-third, sixty-first. She was cumming over and over now, her arousal feeding on itself and the sparkling blasts each birthday brought her.
In a hundred years she was still not even three times as strong as she'd started. Barely enough to carry her lover cradled in her arms. But a hundred years wasn't even a blink among the stars. She was still picking up speed, her minutes eating decades, then centuries. After 232 birthday-gasms Eu-fùnh had ten times her starting strength. The first new digit required to measure her power. She flexed her guns, feeling the forces singing in every fiber of muscle, every tendon, every bone. Her smooth golden skin pulled fluidly over the tight swell of her bicep, as sleek as silk and tougher than steel. She couldn't toss around her “10,000 lb.“ toys, yet, but she could juggle every piece of furniture she owned. “Oooh, I like this fantasy... Make me Stronger!“ she whispered, half-drunk on pleasure and hungry for the power now.
The digits needed to describe her power began ticking ever upwards... Her strength multiplying 1.01 against itself every year as compound interest marched towards infinity. A hundred times her original strength? That came to her under a minute later and she welcomed it with a soundless cry. She imagined lifting cars like shopping bags. A thousand times a her starting strength? Phht, that power filled her limbs even faster as time coiled around her like a spring. 10,000 lb. would feel like a ordinary bowling ball to her but now she would use entire city blocks for ten-pins.
"Why not a MILLION TIMES Stronger?!" she demanded of the stars. Then even that landmark came and went after a mere 14 centuries of the stars themselves fucking her and the magic of compounding interest. "YES, YEEEESSS!" She shouted. She had Mega-Strength!! 10,000 lb. weights would be no more than marbles in a child's game to her. She flicked her thumb and imagined whole cities crumbling. Only a minute of compressed time later Eu-fùnh could win a game of tug of war againt TEN-THOUSAND women all with Mega-Strength pulling against her. A minute after that she had a hundred million times mere Mega-strength, her tongue lolling out as she pinched her taut nipples with pressure more than a thousand times greater than the center of the sun. And still her body shook not in unending orgasm but with thousands of individual orgasms that never seemed to blur together. She been blessed with pleasure thousands of time more than any woman who had ever lived!
She seemed to have reached her cruising speed now, a millennia scything through her each minute in a cascade of exquisite detonations celebrating her every birthday with compounding strength and another notch on her imaginary bedpost. She spread her arms wide and threatened to bear-hug the cosmos, shrieking “More! More! I WANT MORE!!“ Not knowing if she meant the strength or the ecstasy that brought it. She had more sexual experiences than entire nations now.
At a septillion times stronger - a very modest 25 digits - Eu-fùnh could lean in and it would be the whole Earth that moved, not her, as she tensed her thighs and buttocks. She was running out of both ideas to display her power and funny words for exponents.
One percent at a time, her strength was swiftly becoming a google-times greater when the number of digits needed to describe it reached 101 in less than a quarter million years for the world turning below her. Her indestructible flesh was a thing governed by rules outside the Universe now. She was a centillion (303 digits) times stronger as what felt like 12 hours blew past... Trying to measure the potency of Eu-fùnh's muscles had become a joke no mind could encompass. If you put the mass of the whole universe in one pan of some impossibly vast balance scale, she'd be holding down the other pan with her pinky, wondering when the action was going to start.
“I am a Goddess! A GODDESS!!!“ Eu-fùnh cried out into the void, embracing her destiny as the universe's most powerful force. The pressure between her clenching thighs could give birth to tiny sizzling singularities. The delicate hands groping at her breasts held the strength to swat galaxies like flies. She could soccer-kick the baby planet below her right out of the local galactic cluster with the forces bound in her long beautiful legs. As for the Goddess's sexual accomplishments, she had climaxed almost ten times as often as the sun had risen during her mortal lifespan. The deep hum of over 15 human orgasms a second as her birthdays flickered past had been a constant companion for hours now, but even that paled in comparison to the mega-bliss a Goddess's touch could bring to herself. Her delicate, unstoppable hands played over a body denser than neutronium and aching with mega-ecstasy. "Oh god... Oh God... No! ...Oh me, oh me! Oh Me!! OHHH MEEEE!" she wailed in silence, praying to the only God clearly present. She was sex and power incarnate and her mirthful giggles spanned centuries.
Take a piece of paper and fill it with numbers - any numbers will do - twenty columns wide and twenty rows tall. Now stack 10 more pages like that behind it. You've just written an epic ballad to one million years of Eu-fùnh's strength. But lets call it a "verse". Because you're going to have to write another verse singing her praises every 16 hours and string them all together into a single number if you want to keep up with the Goddess Eu-fùnh's relentless transcendence.
But even gods must kneel before Time. In the first five million years, the Goddess Eu-fùnh blazed with liquid joy brighter than any supernova... and then faded. Eons were tedious. Her still-mortal mind was being eroded away like a cliff before the crashing waves of ceaseless bliss as yet another a million birthdays came and went. Truth be told she was lonely even with the whole Earth for company and she still had billions of years to go. Even at 1,000 years a minute she had been condemned to drift alone above the Earth for eight and a half years of accelerated time. Sanity didn't find the joke at all funny and quickly packed its bags and left.
After weeks of this, Eu-fùnh was less a god than a half-mad angel now, watching over the lovely blue dot forever. For millennia at a time she was a hollow shell, even her name lost to her. At times she screamed wordlessly across the centuries as her strength only grew. The inexorable swelling of her divinity had become a solitary hell where the years fell faster than all the drops of rain in a storm. Her exhausted mind gave way to frail new personas, born and dying, cut to pieces by the incessant crystal clear deluge of birthday fireworks. Her gift had turned to nightmare and then the nightmare aged into dust. Even then the dust couldn’t die, it just hid under itself. Hid until a new playful phoenix rose up to cry out in unbearable pleasure and the loneliness of Time. And still her Strength compounded, multiplied, grew...
Eu-fùnh - as promised - had witnessed the whole saga of the Earth: the cooling of the globe, the creation of the moon, the spread of oceans, the beginnings of life, the dancing of continents like fish across the face of the world. She had seen much but remembered little, those treasures lost with her broken-mirror selves now drowned. She even glimpsed the flash that finished the dinosaurs and started the ascendancy of mammals. Only 66 million-years remained until a young woman in Berkley would set out on this cursed journey... Eu-fùnh withered are to cinders and was reborn again, only a quarter million more digits left to be added to the measure of her strength. If she had only gone back that far those foolish wishes would still have left her a mockery of all physics, though probably a saner one.
Cinders. Blaze. Cinders. Blaze...
4.543 billion birthdays later a young Goddess caught up with her mortal seed in a secluded corner of the UCB campus... One of hundreds of almost-identities that had crawled out of the black orgasmic sea only to be dragged back in by the riptide. One of them... but unique for being the last. “She” was less than an hour old in her already weary heart, spat out upon the receding shore. The final Eu-fùnh, heir to infinity. She groped into the darkness of her own past. She could smell memories, carried by the scent of distant roses and the odor of city grime. She... knew this place.
Eu-fùnh was desperately, terrifyingly confused. Her consciousness trying to fit flashes of her first life back into the cracked mosaic of starry skies and a swiftly changing planet. Many of the memories could not fit themselves to her divine form. Could she ever have been so tiny and weak? ...Liam? LIAM!! Where was Liam? What had that fool done to her?
But Liam was gone, leaving only four-and-half billion years of compound interest and a shattered soul in his wake.
Had she ever heard sounds before? Had her mad sister-selves lived through almost a decade in silence? She tried to cling to the alley wall, to not collapse as a whole world of sounds, colors, and smells fell back in on her. Instead her fingers passed through the cinderblocks like she was a ghost and she fell to her knees. The grubby sidewalk powdered under her as if she were kneeling in sand, the dust conforming to her folded claves. When she grasped at it, the concrete dissolved in her hands. She looked up and saw a scallop cut out of the rough wall, still crisp with the shape of her passing fingers. Had she escaped the void only to find a world made of mist? Would she blow the city away on an errant breath? Rip continents apart with every step? Was she the final enemy the world she had watched over for so long would ever face?
She held very still. She dared not breathe.
Suddenly numbers with 19-million digits seemed quite important to her. Nothing compared to infinity... or indistinguishable from it.
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But don't worry, she has another birthday coming up .
Edit: Folded in some of your commentary, Sarge. Gives her story a much sharper ending. Thanks!
Edit: Many more tweaks. it's got me thinking more on what really happens around an infinite strength character in a more grounded setting like Lioness's world. Getting that running start before going over the cliff's given me some ideas too.
In other news, some inspiration for Hannah's Shadow Hunter friend Karen. Maybe not quite on Hannah's level with a character editor, but day-am.
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by Au Goose
The slightly sticky thing was being worn by the lovely but petite Tatiana Deniken as she made her way to the outdoor showers at the SoCal pool party. There, the mutagenic goop would soon be washed down the drain, never to be seen or heard from again. The suit was noticeably too large for her, but that had only made slipping into it under her long, smock-like shirt easier, and she’d bunched up great handfuls of the stretchy fabric and tied the excess into a slip-knot at her lower back, making it presentable if not flattering. Whoever actually owned it was huge compared to her. Tatiana could only imagine the figure it would take to fill the contoured cups properly. '38F ?' she wondered enviously. She wasn't lacking in the bust department, but day-am...
Why was she wearing a suit that fit her so poorly? Because she’d decided enough was enough, and tonight she was going to actually try to join the fun. Her twin (but far from identical) sister had dragged her to this campus hillside party and she’d never felt so alone surrounded by all the gregarious pretty people. She'd been gnoshing a mini-gyro off a tray of Greek-themed munchies when her sister offered her the suit with a wicked grin. With a rare twinkle in her eye, she’d taken the unspoken dare to put it on and join in the just-this-side-of-sex grinding going on in the pool. Two of the guys drifting in the water... damn! She had to make an effort to sidle up to that! But the suit had proven too sticky to jump into the water without washing it off first, something she’d discovered only after she was in it.
But where had Ekaterina gotten it? Truth be told, the larger twin's light fingers had helped themselves to the suit, still wrapped in two layers of big resealable bags, where it had been sticking out of a seemingly forgotten satchel, laying by a potted plant at the edge of the large terrace overlooking the city lights. It was a beautiful LA night, the crowd a seething, swaying mass of half-drunken college students. Even if the togas about half the guys were wearing were silly, this was shaping up to be a really good party and her short, shy, beautiful other half definitely needed to lighten up. So when she spotted it she'd taken the chance. It was a miracle Tatiana had come at all. But miracles do happen from time to time.
So while Ekaterina could have said where she’d gotten the suit if her oh-so-trusting sister had asked, she couldn’t have said where it came from.
That’s why 'Kat didn’t known she’d pilfered the belongings of one Lauren Breckt, who was not only one of the tallest women at the party, but one of the smartest. Earlier that day Lauren had been planning to wear the custom suit herself to the sunset deck party, but she’d had to change her plans. Because the lovely thing was far too dangerous to wear now... or even touch, ungloved. In fact she’d double bagged it for exactly that reason. That afternoon she’d had a bit of a spill, upending a rack of beakers containing not only the freshly decanted batch #7 of her female-only variation on the professor’s experimental 'optimizer' nano-bots, but also their sugary fuel solution. In those awful moments as she watched months of untested work running across the countertop, the only thing she’d had at hand to stem the flood had been her brand new swimsuit still stuffed in her satchel. With only seconds to spare before the gunk ran over the edge and drenched her lab computer, Lauren had pulled out the black-and yellow garment and mopped up the mess. Better to sacrifice the suit than ruin 6 months of research and a multi-thousand dollar computer she reasoned.
Embarrassed at her clumsiness, she’d hidden the accident and snuck her $300 designer washcloth out of the lab in her day bag. Totally against the rules of course to remove any nano-bots from premises, but it was the only way to hide all the evidence. She’d have to try and recover as much of the nanotech as possible tomorrow when the lab would be empty, probably by rinsing and wringing out the gummy fabric and putting whatever washed off through a centrifuge. For now the experiment was ruined. She'd hoped to tune the machines' limited awareness so they could better optimize the female test subjects, making them more reproductively vigorous and correspondingly more attractive to the males. She'd been only days from turning ordinary bunnies from small and cuddly into 'Maximum Bunnies!' Once they could scale it up to larger mammals the revenue potential in the dairy industry alone would be worth billions.
The sad episode was why rather than keeping a close eye on the bundle and its large fraction of a million dollar contents, she’d been pounding back the rum and coke with her best friend at the bar, hoping to work up the courage to tell her mentor what had happened. She imagined he’d be furious with her. He was totally going to flunk her for this if he found out before she did tell him. Possibly kick her off the program entirely.
Despite her fears, Professor Zolenski would have been quite forgiving. Accidents will happen, as he well knew. He'd have been thankful first and foremost knowing no one had been hurt. Handling live mutagens carried serious risks. As to the expense of lost nano-bots... Well, though he always complained about their limited budgets doing animal husbandry work instead of taking military contracts, he’d made enough progress that he could replace them easily enough now. All it took was the right fuel and that wasn’t all that hard to come by; the stuff was practically ice cream. In a pinch you could use refined alcohol - the little machines could burn that too. He'd once done a class demonstration of their ability to seek out fuel by pouring a can of beer into a working crucible. He'd only done that particular demonstration once: it had worked a little too well. As noted before: accidents will happen, even to him. He was just glad he hadn't used something with higher alcohol content... Drunk nano-bots went into turbo mode.
What he'd actually have frowned upon was allowing his ‘free-agent evolutionary builders’ to leave the controlled conditions of the lab. The technology did, after all, have unpredictable effects on mammals even before Lauren's brilliant adaptations. Some quite grotesque. Turn those little buggers loose in the wild and you could end up with a colony of super-rats or mega-raccoons or some other kind of over-sized varmints with 4.3 times their normal strength and an insatiable urge to breed with ordinary specimens which they easily overpowered. The machines took what elements they understood, and optimized them. Muscle tone having been one of the first puzzles he'd solved. They were still in the primitive stages of course, but the project had the potential to revolutionize the food industry with bigger, more muscular, and likely tastier animals. They hadn’t gotten past rats and bunnies yet, but the potential was clearly there.
Even knowing of Lauren's breach of containment protocol, the Professor still wouldn’t have been too worried - his nano-bots were stored in a ‘safe-mode’ and it took a considerable concentration of chlorine atoms to arm the molecular machinery - enough to kill any smaller organisms that the nano-bots might otherwise start to alter. It was an excellent safeguard if he did say so himself. He was a cautious mad scientist as mad scientist go. He had tenure after all. In fact he had never considered human trials. Who needed bigger, tastier people?!?
Zolenski had also never considered human parties or complex chemistry to be found there. Social or atomic.
All of which brings us back to the present:
“Bart! Don’t you dare! BART-!” Ekaterina was a practiced party girl, well known on the scene and with a finely tuned sense of the Brownian motion that ordinarily manifested in a crowd of this size. She felt more than saw one of her more vindictive ex-boyfriends abruptly change course and head directly towards her sister still shyly edging along the pool towards the showers. Tatiana, concentrating only on not bumping into anyone, was oblivious to the threat.
Rather than heed the warning, the dumb jock son of a bitch flashed Ekaterina an evil sneer and went right ahead with his nefarious plan: he half shoved, half launched the much smaller Tatiana out over the deep end of pool. 'Dump me, will you?' he's gleaming eyes crowed.
It's a hard call who was more startled - Tatiana, still rapidly sinking; the two guys she'd been hoping to cuddle up to at the shallow end of the pool; or Bart... Because only seconds after the black-and-yellow clad slip of a girl hit the water she suddenly ERRUPTED in a blast of fizzing bubbles like someone had dropped 70-pounds of effervescing seltzer tablets in the pool. Thin white foam geysered out of the deep end almost to the eye level of the stunned jock. The sharp chemical reek of pool-cleaner momentarily overwhelmed the healthy sweat-scent of the many dancers and lower odor of alcoholic beverages. He'd meant to give her a dunking as the smallest possible payback to her bitch sister, not to make the little hottie explode!
“You are such an asshole! She can't swim!” Ekaterina yelled, not seeing the foamy detonation in the pool as she bulled through the crowd. She hooked one of Bart's legs out from under him and bitch-slapped his ass to the flagstones with a vicious backhand as she stormed past him to leap in after her sister. Unlike Tatiana, she was neither short nor slender, her athletic form honed by near incessant clubbing and a well-earned track scholarship.
'She'll be ok, she'll be ok...' Ekaterina thought, as she plunged into the strangely bubbling pool. Had some other dumbass dropped dry ice in the pool? It was maybe overkill to jump in and rescue her, but Kat was as much afraid as angry. Tatiana would have been fine in the shallow end - but she was still a dog-paddler at best in greater depths.
Picking himself up after getting pasted with a single slap by his half-Amazon ex, Bart seethed with humiliation. Eyes drawn by her shouting, the whole crowd had watched Ekaterina man-handle him in passing without breaking stride. "Kicked his ass!" and "You go, Kat!" echoed around him in half-hidden guffaws. He slunk away to plan further revenge after his first try had gone so wrong. Where was Bobby? He needed a wing-man before trying again, and another beer...
Tatiana on the other hand was feeling far from humiliated. Still tumbling around underwater in the plume of bubbles gushing from every inch of the soiled suit, no one could see precisely what was happening to her. Her whole body tingled as tens of millions of nano-bots plucked the chlorine they needed out of the pool water and found themselves in a sea of sweet sugary fuel, smeared across mammal cells in dire need of their special brand of optimization. The now active evolutionary agents didn't particularly understand "human", but with Lauren's adjustments they certainly knew "boy" from "girl" when they saw one. And they definitely knew how to enhance "girl".
So they enhanced... Bigger! And enhanced... Stronger! And enhanced... Optimum reproductive fitness! (that's lab-speak for "fucking sexy!", FYI.) Compared to lab rats and test bunnies, the horde of eager nano-machines found there was just so much more to Tatiana to work with. Lauren's adjustments were working precisely as designed... dialing up Tatiana's whole body from 'small and cuddly' to Maximum Bunny! Only this 'she' wasn't a rabbit...
Finally righting herself, Tatiana made her way back towards the shallow end, the upwelling of fizzy bubbles following her as her toes at last found the bottom.
As heads began to swivel towards the action at the pool even the DJ caught on, turning all the multi-colored spotlights at his command from the temporary dance floor out into the churning waters as he cranked up the stripper-pole beat. College is a chance to get a classical education, so there’s no doubt a few of the onlookers realized they were seeing a reenactment of the birth of Aphrodite from the sea foam - assuming the re-cast Goddess of Beauty was being played by a blisteringly gorgeous blond Russian girl with seashell pink lips, deep blue eyes, and porcelain skin. Oh. And big, big hooters packed into her swimsuit as they would soon discover. So sort of a modern re-interpretation then, not that anyone minded the changes in the script.
First a long delicate hand came up out of the foam, then the top of Tatiana's golden head broke the surface, then her arm and her always lovely face now sculpted into perfection. Tatiana's trek towards the shallow end continued to unveil her. Wide smooth shoulders followed the angelic face, then a magnificent décolletage of fresh white skin framed by the plunging black-and-yellow neckline, the rippling pool-light playing over subtle curves and hollows. Finally the foam began to part around two— ...ok, right there many of the fine young gentleman in attendance either experienced severe nose-bleeds or an epic case of frontal pelvic swelling. Lets just say there was no question Tatiana was a highly evolved mammal. Thankfully through the miracle of pocket-cameras the whole world would be reviewing the rising of two full moons over Los Angeles that evening for many years to come.
Even as she was rising from the cauldron’s heart Tatiana felt the suit growing tight across her body. She belatedly realized that was even after the knot she’d made had come undone. She was in fact more than amply filling out a suit sized for the more than ample 6-foot Lauren Breckt. So much so the once oversized suit was straining to contain the now 6’2” 38H beach goddess Tatiana had evolved into. But measurements weren't enough to describe her. She was now sporting a scientifically perfect body every guy at the party would later testify was a solid '10'. Sure, a '10'... Right after they'd adjusted their scale so the hottest model they'd ever jacked off to was an '8'.
In short, she was stunning.
Truly glad to have made it out of the deeps, her laugh was golden. It elicited cheers from the confused but delighted audience, no one quite understanding how the magic trick was done. Tatiana hadn’t missed that she was now standing firmly on the bottom of a portion of the pool that previously she’d have been treading water over. “Finally, I’ll be the tall one.” She whispered, wanting to show Ek' the new and much improved her.
But before she could peer around the patio and find her sister, a hand tapped her gently on the shoulder. She jerked, spinning around with a liquid slosh, only to find Ekaterina was standing in the pool with her grinning... and 6’5” tall.
“Almost had you...” Tatiana hmmphed.
“Sorry!” He sister said with an insincere shrug but a genuine smile. “But look at the bright side: you did catch up... a lot!” While Ekaterina had been well within the blast radius of rampant optimization, there was no question who had been the epicenter.
They were much closer in height now, Tatiana reluctantly agreed. Chest to chest in the water, she also realized they’d both acquired substantial new real estate. Of the heavily fruited orchard variety. Grapefruit trees. Or something. In that at least she was still considerably ahead of her sister. Tatiana had always been distinctly more... Rounded.
As the bubbling tapered off, other party-goers in the pool began to cautiously wade towards the two sun-haired Amazons. Some hoping to press up against their awesome curves. Others craving a repeat of whatever magic trick had turned the pretty but shy new girl and her well-loved sister into sleek mega-babes. Unfortunately for them, the nano-bots had devoured all their fuel and were for the moment quiescent.
Tatiana saw the crowd approaching and instinctively flinched. "Do you think we sh–"
“Fuck you too, ‘Kat!” Bart and his crony Bobby pushed through the tightening lines to dump a huge bowl of party-punch over the sisters from the edge of the pool. A sweet, creamy punch that had been made from about 10 gallons of hard liquor... and an equal amount of melted ice cream.
That particular slick and sticky deluge was a thousand time worse than throwing gasoline on a bonfire. Bart had sealed his own fate. The pool began to foam again, far more violently than before. In moments the tops of the two sisters’ heads shot up another six inches out of the water, their formidable bust lines rising proportionately after. The abused swimsuit at the heart of the matter and Kat’s white halter-top dress both burst under the spherical assault from within. Again the crowd cheered.
While Tatiana swooned, her half-naked body buoyed up several feet into the evening air by the column of churning white foam still centered on her, the fiery Kat was having none of it. She surged up out of the pool, drawing herself on to the edge in a single powerful motion. The crowd gasped: she was perfect and unashamed as water streamed down her seven-foot length. If Tatiana had been cast as Aphrodite for the evening, then Ekaterina made a formidable Artemis. She growled low and throaty, sending a few muscle-fans in the crowd to their knees. Grabbing Bart with both hands around his waist, she lifted him to her shoulder, then palming his ass she spun once and heaved with her whole beautifully muscled body like a Olympic shot-put thrower, tossing Bart onto the third story roof of the adjacent villa. Everyone laughed as they watched him scrabbling on the red tiles and screaming bloody murder in frightened surprise. Then the new Goddess of the Moon turned on his accomplice still holding one side of the empty punch-bowl with a predator's glare that said, 'Run or die, boy. Choose now'. Bobby ran.
Pausing only to be sure she hadn't actual killed the jerk now bawling on the rooftop, Kat turned and hopped feet-first back into the fizzing pool. She was already too late though as her buxom ‘little’ sister outgrew her at last, Tatiana's rampaging sex-appeal still scaling up with her height.
As the good professor had feared, mammals affected by the nano-bots would have no problem overpowering unenhanced mates. The newborn Aphrodite already had the two hunks she'd been eying pressed to her chest, cleverly using their faces to cover her exposed modesty. Or something.
Quite a few of the more cagey co-eds dived in after 'Kat, realizing what might be in store for them too as the bubbling nano-bots continued to burn through gallons of super-fuel. This time they weren’t too late to get in on the fizzy fun and soon the pool was filled with cavorting bare-chested Naiads and their shorter boyfriends in what was later universally hailed as THE Pool-Party of the Century.
It would be a hard act to top, but Lauren was already considering improvements to batch #8. It turned out she would get an 'A' on her lab work after all. After a stern talking to about control groups and informed consent of course.
By Au Goose
'Well that doesn't sound good,' Hannah thought. 'And the day had started out so well too...'
Rolling upright, you bend from the middle, doing a sit-up in the center of the broad bed and holding it. Your pointed toes rising at a 30° angle, twin mountains rising in answer under the cream-colored sheets as your chest leaves the pillows behind. Your whole weight balances effortlessly on your pert, muscular buttocks, now sinking into the memory foam. Your belly is tight, not with the strain of holding the crunch, but because it is always tight now. A bright note in the symphony that is your Uber-body. Having been granted the wish that every single part of your body be 'Super' has taken some adjustment. You still surprise yourself, almost always pleasantly, and the sex has been mind-blowing every time.
Your hands begin to rise to cup your plump tits, to shake them side to side and feel the incredible natural heft and sway that is now all yours... But you catch yourself. After a lifetime of being skinny, you love your great big breasts most of all, but it’s too easy to become engrossed in those dreams made flesh and overlook the beauty of the whole.
Instead you scissor your long legs, again feeling the cotton whisper across their length, gathering the lower corners of the huge square of fabric so that it runs down over your child-bearing hips and into the shadows between your long thighs like a white river plunging over your sex in white-water rapids, each rumple and crinkle a kiss against your sensitive lower lips.
Freed from under the sheet, you lift your swimsuit-model's legs higher, first pointing straight at the ceiling fan stirring the air above you, and then flexing farther still as you smoothly pull your shapely ankles up even with your ears... though rather wider than your shoulders to accommodate your chest. The stretching of the deep muscles of your hips is a delicious as it is easy, your flexibility being quite 'Super' too. Rather than return by the same high arc, you swing your feet wide until you are doing complete side-splits, your toes pointed at opposite walls, feeling the twist and swivel of the balls of your femurs turning deep inside your broad hips. While not requiring undue strength the move still makes you feel flush with power. To know your sleek body is poised to answer any challenge with a resounding “Yes, of course I can do that!”
Because you're Super. Every. Single. Part.
Rather than feed your hunger to simply fondle your breasts, you lace just the tips of your fingers together and drop them into your cleavage - as a long line of explorers surrounded by high hills. They tickle you as the intrepid squad marches south, following the trench that divides the left and right sides of your firm abdomen. Again you are struck by how soft you are and yet so solid blades would crack and bullets flatten themselves against your invulnerable, velvety hide. You almost wish you were being shot at so you could watch the bullets burst and crumple, doing little more than tickle you. The team of searching fingers divides up as you content yourself with drumming your left hand on your taut belly, a sound as gentle as the pitter-pat of rain as your fingertips lightly dimple your soft skin, but in truth tapping yourself with casual force that eclipses any bullet. You are as ridiculously strong as you are sexy.
The other merry band of your right hand continues its journey south, to stumble upon what may be the most intimate of your many transformations. Emerging from a field of downy-soft red hair, your little soldiers stand on the verge of sacred ground. While you’d always been blessed with a full and sensuous clitoris, nearly the size of an almond when fully aroused, The Wish has amplified that into a great beast of urgent need, no longer content to ever be fully hidden in your creases. When in the fullest grip of lust — like now — it throws back its hood and stands guard proudly over your innermost passageway, the size and shape of a small chicken egg nestled in your slick folds. An ordinary woman would suffer constant soreness from the chaffing; rubbed raw against their own undergarments. But your super-clitoris is invulnerable like all your secret places. A fact being re-confirmed by your wandering fingers which have set about attacking the up-thrust mound with tank-crushing force. You moan and the sound of pleasure fills every corner of the room. Fuck, that feels gooooood!
“I am so sexy. I am Super-sexy!” The words break from your lips, an inescapable truth. You are self-created, the avatar of irresistible sensuality.
Inspired, you twist your left foot in the corner of the sheet, and draw that leg up under you until your foot lays alongside your tight ass. You cease the drumming on your belly to tie it in place with quick and nimble fingers. Your right hand withdraws from your loins, a cease-fire perhaps but far from defeated. You gather the sheet still running between your legs in the closed circle of you fingers and thumb, sliding your hand up it to make a loose rope laying from your groin across your right breast and looping over your shoulder, winding it back and around your elbow so your hand can still hold the end, keeping the long strip taut across your beautiful naked body.
This next part would be difficult at best if not outright impossible... for any woman unable to fly. You however lift easily into the air, freeing your folded leg to tug in opposition to the hand still clasping the coiled far end of the sheet. Together they pull the white rope back and forth over your groin and breast like an enormous saw. Only the softness of the cloth saves it from destruction - if it had been metal the teeth would have shattered trying to bite into your battleship body.
You arch your back near to breaking, your right leg sticking out like a spear as the toes curl in ecstasy. As your left foot softly pumps the air beneath your buttocks the long band of cloth scrapes against your quivering body in a river of stimulation. This sexual trapeze act leaves your left hand and breast free to seek their own enjoyment and you urgently squeeze your tit at last, lifting the pink cone at its peak to your waiting mouth.
The contrast is fantastic: your right nipple, more rigid than a diamond, chewing through the dense cloth like a tiny pink drill. You left nipple held firm by your pink lips, springy as your tongue takes long sensual licks inside your mouth. Both nipples so sensitive you can feel the individual pop of every strand of cool dry cotton as it furs and snaps, each of your taste buds like sand paper as your wet tongue rasps across the other. You release your left breast and moan again. One of the window panes shivers with you and cracks at the sound.
You’re cumming – of course – and deeply. Actually you're super-cumming, little green flames dancing behind your closed eyes. But it’s not the helpless paralysis of bliss. You’re able to both feel and focus. To race with the blinding tingle running up and down your body from the tip of your sharply lifted chin to the throbbing nexus of pleasure blasting from between your loins. Because when you're Super Hannah, every orgasm is a firestorm... and yet you STILL WANT MORE. With just a sheet and a little ingenuity you're feeling more pleasure than any ten women have ever experienced and lived and its still not enough for you. Because you're fucking SUPER. You long to be dipped into fire and ice, razors and satin. To— Oh! Oh! Yes! YES!! You begin to jerk, your control not as absolute as you had thought.
Even that tiny shift in your rhythms is too much for the coiled sheet pulled over your body. Your triumphant breast bursts through the cloth, a spherical moon rising from the sea. The long end of the torn sheet flows down your belly and rushes past your womanhood in a swift, slick river. The short piece flutters down to the rumpled bed below, the longer end still dangling from your ankle - it the string and you the kite.
You’re naked now under the softly whrrring fan. You realize then why every time you’ve flown in the nude, it’s felt like swimming: to the thousands of tiny hairs giving the silken sheen to your long limbs each breath of air is a river current, something you feel not just brushing you, but flowing over your skin. The cooling draft from the fan is an invisible waterfall washing over your sweaty gorgeous body.
You find yourself drawn to it, your whole body relaxing and falling slack in the hidden current. You rise up chest-first, your arms and legs dangling freely towards the floor, you back arched sharply to keep your breasts up thrust. Even your head hangs back and away, your face turning in sharp jerks from side to side as you feel your mounds approaching the source of the wind snaking over them...
Your ascent freezes, holding you at the very cusp of both touch and climax. The fan makes a resonant ‘tut-thumb’ sound deep in the root of each of its five blades as the trailing edges nick your fiercely pointed nipples, the scraping touch just ever so slightly out of synchronicity as a blade sweeps over you. Your fingers and toes jerk in ragged echoes of the doubled-pulses shooting out from your candy pink tips.
‘tut-thumb, tut-thumb, tut-thumb’
‘tut-thumb, tut-thumb, tut-thumb’
Fan-blades kiss your chest in rapid fire. The painted wood begins to chip as your nipples bite deeper into their path without your body rising at all. You reach out for more, but not with your hands.
...You don't know how long you've been there. Moments? Minutes? You’re so lost in the rush of air across your torso and the scrape of gouged wood. The torn blades are scratching you playfully now like a cat with a pink treat. You've entirely missed that someone has entered your room.
“Hannah? Hannah, come down...”
It's Jenny, come to save you from yourself. She's behind you in midair - like you unbound from gravity. She's growing used to using her wings naturally, casually, like any other pair of limbs she was born with. She reaches out with them. Her long feathers brush you like – well, like feathers – down the whole length of your body, exploring you with a delicacy that is almost savage to your over-saturated senses. You gasp, your exquisite skin registering the touch not as individual feathers, but thousands upon thousands of tiny corrugations... The fine mesh of her feathers finally overloading your ability to count by touch. Each caress is a shimmering sea of texture.
She does with patience and the gentlest brushes what an army and iron chains could not: drawing you down from the rippling pleasure firing through your body as the fan blades slowly erode against your unconquerable breasts.
You curl inwards, like a sleeping child in her feathery embrace. She’s everywhere now, her wings wrapping around you, her full bosom pressing against your back, her legs coiling around your own until your skin is uncertain where you leave off and she begins.
Seeing you're sane again, she pulls away. Its almost heartbreaking.
In that moment you want so desperately not to be alone.
You roll backwards until your torso is inverted, then draw those stunning legs down until your toes point at the floor, repeating your earlier pose only now spreading your womanhood before her. Your hair hangs down freely, an inverted red flame kissing the surface of the bed below.
“Complete me?” You beg. You have power that could stop a charging train in a squeal of twisting metal, but you find yourself begging. Jenny's never shown undue interest in your touch before. Will she...?
The two of you were never goddesses before either. Like you, she’s discovered her own needs not easily satisfied.
Jenny mounts you wordlessly, molding herself to you, her taut abdomen brushing your breasts, her own generous womanflesh pancaking gently against the armor-plate of your belly, her face leaning in intimately until you feel first her hot breath and then her red lips, so much darker than your own. She takes you in and beginning to swirl her long, agile tongue over the surface of your massive clit. Your own lips find her core, gently seizing the nub with a pressure that makes Jen hiss with startled delight...
The two of you, both able flyers, begin to summersault around the center-point where the bottoms of your breasts brush and rebound against each other. You’re one half of a twisting yin-yang, but not tear-drops of black and white... You are a creamy nut brown, glowing with health like Summer's First Tan. She is so pale, so delicately white than her strongest hues are pink and blue from the blood just beneath her skin. You can feel her quickening heartbeat. You're going to drive her to climax like a volcanic eruption.
Your passion rises even higher as you feel her wings wrap forward around you, their wispy rasp across your long legs, like ghost kisses over your cannonball buttocks, gathering again behind you to curl in and tickle your lower back like an enormous feather duster. Your angelic friend reminding you she too is a unique thing. The Wish has been good to her too.
You’re already cumming, primed by your first two shuddering climaxes of the morning, but you seize it, hold it, a violinist wrenching a single soul-piercing note from their quivering instrument. Jenny is your quivering instrument, already crying out. You hanging on despite your own sweetest agony, determined to make her cum first. The note doesn’t need to sing for long as you weren't far ahead of her rising ecstacy. You feel her soft body begin to shudder. She's no longer flying on her own, held aloft only by the mutual tangle of your limbs. With your Super-strength, the tiny weight of her clinging to you is no more than a kitten cupped in your hand. You drink in her helplessness and her need, delight in the sucking gasps she can't control any longer...
When her sweet cries stop you feel the weight of her hanging from you lift. She's able to soar once more under her own power. You separate by unspoken agreement... drifting to opposite sides of the room. You the rounded silhouette of a fertility Goddess with the sun at your back, her the white-gold angel radiant in the light of dawn. Your eyes are half-lidded, satisfied but also gentle. It's a moment that you’d never thought to have with her. Hers are wide, with shock and wonder. She’d never seen this for herself either. But she’s simply too smart to not accept how fulfilling the encounter has been.
There are no other words to place in that silence. In that moment of shared understanding it makes no difference who spoke them.
Then the angel’s face falls, the reason for her intrusion coming back to haunt her.
“What... what is it?” You ask, the glorious haze of waking up a goddess beginning to clear. The memory that this might be the last day you are given to do so runs down your spine like ice water.
Is the end truly nigh for our trio? Dunt'dunnt'duunnnnn...
- Junior Member
- Posts: 251
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I've got some family events coming up that'll punch holes in my calendar, but I'm still plugging away.
((I'm a tiny bit frustrated with Ulterior MMOtives - I ended up writing some parts out of order and now I'm hung on like a page-worth of text I need to do before the rest flows smoothly. I even know what the scene needs to address. Just have to crack the whip I guess...))
by Au Goose
and he wants to take your soul.
There's a mad man with a mad plan
and he's dancing at your door. Oh
What to do? oooh
what to do
when the walls are built to crumble?”
Katie pulled her earbeads out even as she came charging through the sound-proof door of the studio. “There's a mad man with a mad plan and he waits for us to stumble!” she sing-songed the last line of the chorus to herself as she spun in an elegant double twirl. Her spinning ended precisely with her right in Larry’s face as her below-the-knee pleated skirt dropped back around her bare legs. She looked up at him with an eager smirk. “Ok, what have we got?” An athletic 5’5” cut from much the same cloth as Audrey Aleen Allen, the ash-blond beauty was living proof you only needed a B-cup to set hearts racing if you had the poise and smile to carry it. KIBC's Katie Grace might have gotten her seat at the big kids' table on her staggering good looks, but she was still a professional reporter and smart as a whip. She wasn’t walking into this blindly parroting the teleprompter. She wanted context.
“Word is some kind of high power super-teen is raping her way across her high school,” her director offered. “Daly City. Less than 15 miles from here. Right in our backyard. Looks like typical flying brick powers. Definitely much stronger than any ten guys on her campus.”
“Hide your men-folk: a sex-starved super-girl stalks the Peninsula?” she said with obvious disdain. One nice thing about Paranatural outbursts: they were equal opportunity disasters. The Snow Queen's two hour rampage had done more for making men think twice when a woman said ‘no’ in the workplace than 25 years of anti-harassment seminars. Over a dozen man-cicle murders had a chilling effect, pun totally intended. Katie put her knees together to hide her real reaction to this new gig. Because taking your ease on an entire high school football team sounded like an amazing way to pass the afternoon if you’d just went super-goddess right there on campus. And nobody would call you on it. The strongest Paranaturals usually got a presidential pardon for the things they did on the first day as long as they stopped short of deliberate homicide, all with a nod and a wink to 'temporary insanity'. But ORCA always rounded them up and the really not nice ones disappeared. Forever. There were no jails for top-tier Paranaturals and the boys in the black helicopters did not mess around.
If she were to get all Super'd up, Katie mused, there’d be a couple people in the building she’d pause to fuck on the way out... or just fuck up. She hadn’t been forced to spread her legs to move up yet, but she had endured quite a bit of groping she’d pay back with bone crunching interest... Still, even if she approved of this new girl's style she had to voice the professional response she was supposed to give: “You know we can’t say that on the air. Has anyone died?”
“No, not yet, unfortunately. Just some rough sex.” Politically correct or not, Larry knew exactly where the ratings were and any kind of paranatural death-toll would rocket them into the national-bracket if not global. Network news worked FAST. That’s why she’d come at a run from the in-building gym when he’d paged her. You had to grab the limelight with both hands to keep any kind of budget. Fear and Sex were the king and queen of the evening news and this story was both. He considered the rest of her concerns. “Sure, sure. We’ll dumb it down to ‘assaulted’ on your prompter, but I want you thinking ‘sexually assaulted’ loudly. Give them the juice.” The ‘juice’ being her wide-eyed sexy pout. They both knew the game was dirty. As her mentor he’d never treated her looks as anything but a weapon that helped keep them all employed. It was at the root of the respect they shared.
“And this is going on right now?”
“This very moment. The police aren’t even there yet. We picked it up off the kids’ phones. The internet’s already spinning up for a global viral meltdown. Every otaku in Japan with a hard-on for 'supu-powahhs' just got a wake up alarm from their smart phones. This story is spreading fast and we’re the only ones with a shot at getting in front of it.” You could almost hear him salivating at the idea of pulling in a high 8-digit viewership. Maybe mid 9s globally if things got juicy. It was late enough in the afternoon in California that the East Coast would just be curling up with the news. “The van’s on the way but we’re interrupting the regular ‘cast now. You’ll lead off the special report live in 90 seconds. I’ve already called corporate - we’ll jump to satellite as soon as we have any footage of our own that isn’t pure power-porn. You ready?”
“Oh, yes." Paranaturals were big news and a ‘coming out party’ like this was a once or twice a decade opportunity. She was getting sweaty just thinking about it. It wouldn't be Pulitzer-winning by a longshot, but it could still secure her career for years.
“But where’s the angle?” She asked, adjusting her silky turtleneck even as the make-up girls started to descend on her. “We need something to get the viewers hungry. If we can’t say she’s a fire-breathing sex monster...?”
Larry was the man. “Before and after. If its the same student the kids say it is, her senior pictures in the yearbook border on homely. Now she’s a flying porno-queen.”
The make-up girl giggled. Ella was a year Katie's junior and the fact the 24-year-old was already working in a high-pressure news room for a major network told you all you needed to know about how sharp she was. It was basically impossible to look bad with Ella around - it would be an insult to her craft. The slender redhead stage-whispered conspiratorially in Katie's ear, “The first video clip was the Angel banging the school’s quarterback half to death twenty feet above the central quad.”
“Not that we can show any of that, damn it...” Larry added grumpily.
"Well I like her." Ella announced. "If I had her body, I'd be screwing a hundred guys into submission before nightfall too," the slender redhead was putting on a good front. Because paranatural super-girls only made regular women feel just a tiny bit inadequate, right?
"Only a centafuck? Where's your ambition gone, girl?" Katie smirked, her own self-esteem battered but still mostly intact.
She turned to Larry, all business now. “So, great, if she’s 18 we can use her full name, right?” she asked, clipping on her mic. The trio moved across the studio together with long familiarity.
“Not yet. Legal’s still trying to find her parents to get permission. We stick with 'The Angel' for now when we need to say anything at all. Powerful as she looks to be, ORCA’s going to step on all our necks after about ten minutes. We get one shot at this.”
Katie slid into her chair behind the big raised desk, the make-up girls still fussing over her and her co-host. Ella leaned in and whispered in her ear again, "I didn't say I'd stop at nightfall... how about a kilofuck by dawn?" Katie double-nodded with wide-eyed enthusiasm for Ella's new plan and they laughed together as Larry passed her and Robert tablets loaded with everything they had on the Angel. Then he disappeared into the shadows like the old hand he was with 30 seconds to spare. Ella and her squad followed him moments later.
Katie settled her slim but not unappealing butt into the swivel chair. The best thing about being a news-model was no one ever saw your legs. As pretty as her face was, she’d always wanted longer legs. Oh, and to be fucking Super, dammit. Some ugly duckling hits the jackpot and all she would get to do was tell people about it? Why wasn’t it her?
She spent precious moments flicking through the before/after shots on the tablet, intent on the ‘before’ pictures. Not really homely. There was something in the girl’s eyes that spoke of a laughing intelligence. She’d have made some nerd very happy, Katie decided. But now? Whoa. Super-whoa. The supremely lucky teenager was rocking a textbook comic-book figure: 9-heads tall, gravity-defying breasts like XL party balloons, hips that wouldn't fit through a door straight on... All stacked on top of long legs that would come practically up to Katie's ears. Unfair with a side order of unfair and little unfair sprinkles on top. There was no denying when this sort of random paranatural outburst hit somebody like the universe’s biggest lottery ticket, Katie wished it was HER.
She snickered evilly to her co-host, Robert Lake. “Imagine what you’d get if you started with a better class of raw materials...” She arched her back seductively and gave him a shot of the juice. His eyes widened, even though he’d been looking at the clips too. That was flattering. And she kind of needed to be flattered just then. Robert had made a few grabs at her, but she’d fended him off. His wife was far too big of a bitch to get into that tangle of thorns. More complications a super-girl would never have. "Yeah, I fucked you husband's brains out, mortal. Deal with it."
Katie skimmed to the footage they couldn't use. ‘just look at her GO’ she thought to herself in unashamed envy, her own breathing getting a little shallow as she watched the fledgling super-girl mount her fourth conquest and pin him against the outside of a second story window with her perfect heart-shaped ass. Then still keeping him nailed to the glass her torso rolled backwards so far her upside-down head was level with his dangling knees and her mammoth breasts were on full display to the eyes and cameras below. Kid had evidently gotten a deluxe copy of "The Kama Sutra for Flyers" as a special bonus when she'd ordered her powers. That was a real thing by the way, published in 18 languages. Illustrated with actual photos even, because the second "Witch Girl" had thought it was funny having cameras around for something she'd be doing anyway.
Katie squinted. They probably could have actually used parts of that clip if the boy had done a better job of covering her compact disk-sized areolae. Seriously, how do you slip when her nipples were the size of walnuts? Even with the sound muted she could see the hunky jock was howling with pleasure and completely powerless to resist her advances. There was no mistaking it for consensual, but was it really rape when you'd spend the rest of your life wishing they'd do it again? The Angel was getting off on more than just the sex. She was reveling in the comical mismatch of their strength, the powerless need in his eyes. Had the boy spurned her once? Put gum in her hair years ago? Whatever it was, the battering he was taking from her broad hips looked personal. She could be gentle, but she wasn't. Katie squirmed. So much power. And almost total freedom to do whatever you want, do whoever you want. She checked to see if her rock hard nipples were showing. Yes, but just the right amount she decided. This broadcast was going to be all about titillation. Nothing wrong with her looking a little breathless.
“You’d still be a hard-nosed bitch.” Her director called out, having overheard her. His smile made it a compliment.
“That’s super-bitch to youuuuuu-“ she trailed off with a sigh. Her whole body felt... squiggly? Like she was suddenly out of alignment with the whole universe. The studio looked strangely glassy under the stage lights.
...No one was moving. Neither was the countdown clock. She jumped a little as an oily, mocking voice whispered in her head~
‘My making?’ Katie thought to herself already recovering from the shock. You didn’t thrive in network news without being fast on your feet. She was stuck in some sort of paranatural time-mojo. Was this... whatever it was, claiming to have created a high-tier Super? Was the girl at the school not the real power in play here? Was she just a... byproduct?
There was no way Katie was backing down from a challenge like that. “Yes, I could. She’s got charms, I won’t deny it. But if I got as good of a make-over as she did, hell yes.” She stretched luxuriously in case the voice could see her as well as hear her. In a moment of inspiration Katie took the offensive. “You know it too, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
She sensed she’d scored a point in the silence so she pressed the attack. “You gave the little virgin the courage to play around in a schoolyard. Give me that kind of moxie and there'd be a million guys jacking off to my fifteen minutes of fame.”
The laughter that answered her was not kind. She could hear the leering. She’d called it dead on - the girl at the school had been remade as a sex-symbol first and super-powered second. Who was this asshole? She’d never heard of a Paranatural that could make more Paranaturals...
From every horny dreamer you inspire
a droplet of power you draw.
One million ejaculations and it's yours, permanently.
Fail, and well... Don’t fail.
You wouldn't like it.
As ominous as the threat was, Katie smiled. The Voice in her head obviously didn’t know squat about broadcast market volume. A million would be iffy with only local coverage. But Larry had already tied them up to National and he was a demon when it came to exploiting the internet. That would be very doable.
until the bottom of the hour to do or die.
Your 'fifteen minutes of fame'.
Shit. THAT might get a little more lively. But Katie hadn't gotten this far by being a shrinking violet. Could she really play the arrogance of the Voice so completely? “I’ll be powered-up on par with your 'goddess' for every million fantasies I inspire? Three million horny daydreamers and I'll be three times as strong and sexy as she is?”
The voice sneered.
But you must shape yourself in that span.
You’ll get no help from me.
‘Damn,’ Katie tried not to snicker. Did this dolt think she didn’t know what every guy wanted from her? The high school senior’s blossoming transformation had all the subtlety of throwing a brick through a window. Tits, legs, angel face... Sure. But it was still kid-stuff. Katie had made men lick the screen wishing they could get in her panties every day for years. Give her just a whiff of that power and she'd polish herself, sculpt her body into an utter dream girl. But it was the MOVES than squeezed the juice. She’d string the audience along until they wanted nothing so badly as to see her suffer some massive wardrobe malfunction. An innocent accident that would make her a Goddess ten times over.
Seduce a million guys into masturbating and she'd win super-powers and the body to match? Only a million? She snorted. “You. Are. On.”
The laughter again, supremely smug.
Katie’s eyes went wide, the clock resuming its march towards curtain rise. What the hell had that been all about? Had she just daydreamed of being the next sex-bomb dropped on the City by the Bay or had some porn-hungry force really just made the bet of a lifetime...? And yet as Robert ran his eyes over her, she felt a trickle of power begin to flow into her. Already she felt the tiniest bit Super-er. And sexy-er. Then another and another tickle of power began to gather in her until there were a dozen tiny threads of force running through her as her co-workers looked innocently on. She lifted her hand discretely to her face. Rubbing the edge of her jaw confirmed what she already suspected: the one tiny blemish on her skin there was gone.
Oh, shit. It was happening. The cameras hadn't even started yet and there were already dozens of people out there feeding her power with their idle fantasies.
The clock had started and time was ticking down. She had less than 900 seconds to beat this Faustian bargain. Or... well, no point wondering about that.
“Live in 5... 4... 3...” the rest of the studio went dim as the lights on Katie and Robert intensified.
Her heart was racing even as she schooled her face using every ounce of Larry's training. Another 5 seconds gone she'd never get back.
“This is Katie Grace reporting for KIBC in San Francisco. We interrupt our usual programming to bring you this as-it-happens exclusive...
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AuGoose wrote: “This is Katie Grace reporting for KIBC in San Francisco. We interrupt our usual programming to bring you this as-it-happens exclusive...[/spoiler]
We've got the bubble headed bleach-blonde coming on at 5
She can make another plane crash with a gleam in her eye
It's so much fun when people die
Who needs dirty laundry!
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Ravens_ghost wrote: I'm a lurker at heart, but can the goddess give us more of that last snip-it, please.
Honestly, few things are more effective at getting a goddess to linger than asking her to .
Also as a heads up, depending on when you read it there are some substantial changes to part 1 including an additional character (Ella) being introduced who you'll see more of later.
by Au Goose
“This is Katie Grace reporting for KIBC in San Francisco. We interrupt your usual programming to bring you this as-it-happens exclusive...”
She turned to another camera, going to close-up. “Parents always dread some sort of schoolyard outbreak and today the cause for those concerns is very real. A new Paranatural has manifested in a local high school here on the peninsula. Already severe injuries have been reported and police are on their way.” It was about par for a news show opening: 'Stay tuned or your children Could Die.'
You set the hook with Fear. Then you reeled them in with the Sex. “Eyewitnesses say the beautiful Paranatural is a student there. She’s already displayed the trifecta of prime abilities: flight, immense strength, and some degree of invulnerability. Unfortunately much of the student-shot footage of her... exploring... her new powers with some of the male students is simply too graphic to be re-broadcast.” Katie hadn’t actually said the words ‘raped senseless’, but everyone heard the real message: ‘listen up folks! The girl’s a super-nympho and every guy she ever had a crush on just became her helpless fucktoy. What's wrong with your life that you aren’t there getting laid right now?
There were a few more boring facts she had to go through. Background crap nobody really cared about. People zoned out, just listening to the lilt of her musical voice and not the words. Katie delivered it all with the eager breathiness of a girl who’d just spotted her prom date driving up. She’d taken her earlier arousal by the scruff of the neck and put it to work. Men responded to the throaty voice and bedroom eyes without even knowing it, transferring their filthy desire to touch the forbidden fruit of a sexy young super-teen onto Katie, the sexy young newsgirl telling them the story. Their fevered brains insisting, '...because it's totally legit if I want to want to fuck the newsgirl, right? Jesus, just look at that face. Is she even old enough to drink? She was born to moan like a whore while she swallows my dick up to the balls...'
Katie felt something rapidly building inside her, and it felt wonderful.
Katie’s regular fans had already noticed she was looking especially good this afternoon. Her skin glowed with health and her blue eyes had a smoldering gleam. The creepy stalker types even noticed the tiny birthmark on her right check was gone.
It was probably just her imagination, but Katie thought she could feel the thousands of penises rising to greet her as the newscast took over more and more screens all around the Bay. Only it wasn't her imagination. Every time she blinked, behind her eyelids she saw thousands of tiny threads around her, each one whispering to her of a viewer's lusty desires. So many of them wanted to see her body sprawled out over the news desk as Robert's huge dick split her like firewood as their proxy. Or to feel her sloppy kisses on the head of their cock before her tongue licked them like ice cream. There was a whole contingent in Japan who saw the white girl's tits pressing against the inside of their TV screen, twice as large as life and about to burst through into their rooms! 'Ah, gotta love the otaku,' she thought. A few threads even whispered of groping and kneading her impossibly full ass, one of the great 'Katie Grace mysteries', a wonder never seen on television but certain to be amazing...
She'd never catch up with reading all her 'fan mail' because for every thread she sampled ten more attached itself to her, each bringing her another tiny grain of power. She wanted to take it all and just rub it up and down her body, let herself burst through her clothes as she swelled up like the Angel. But she wasn't in the game to gather a bucket of sand. She was going to be the whole beach, going on for miles... But a little power now couldn't hurt, right? in her mind's eye she opened her mouth... only to find the threads trying to rush down her throat, eager to take her!
On camera she coughed, obviously a bit of dry throat after all her exposition. Katie reached for the already open bottle of water always close at hand. 'Thanks, Ella,' she thought gratefully, using the moment to regroup. Even that single swallow was enough to change her: she felt her skin growing smoother, her arms firmer, her heart stronger. She’d just been at the gym, but now she was feeling pumped up all over, all over again. She wanted to flex for the camera and maybe rip the whole desk into itty bitty pieces with her little girly hands. But that would be too obvious this early in the game. She had other cards to play first.
Robert tagged in, bouncing the narrative energy up a notch while Katie sipped her water. “Our man in the field is only moments away from the scene, folks! While we can’t announce the name of the young woman at this time, we have been able to identify her with the help of her fellow students...” From the booth Larry smoothly brought up his cut-together package of Before/Now images, titillating the viewers all over again as it became clear that what had been a rather ordinary student body had detonated into a comic-book style sexual titan. And if the tip of her tongue peeking out at the corner of her porn-star mouth said ‘I'm about to fuck you SO GOOD...' well, that was pretty much what had happened 3 seconds later. The caption read “The SF Angel?” piggy-backing off of some clever students streaming to the net before the broadcast had started. He’d already bought out their video for a measly $50 via Paypal and had his two mixers chopping the footage into something that the FCC wouldn’t fine them out of the universe for airing. KIBC had almost uncontested control of the web-feeds now. Larry grinned - his whole staff was working together like an Italian racing team to drive this story into as many homes as possible before the Feds shut them down. Seeing Katie absolutely oozing the juice like never before, he gave the sign to put her back in the frame.
Katie looked attentive as a new box opened on the screen. Larry’s cutters had found a clip of the Angel posing for the other students. She was spectacular, covered only by a blue one-piece swimsuit with the school logo stretched into an unrecognizable squiggle of white lines over her bulging breasts. The stretchy material was sprayed on her Amazon frame so tight it left nothing to the imagination. It was a miracle it hadn’t exploded trying to contain her awesome body. When Larry had called her a ‘porno-queen’ earlier, he hadn’t been exaggerating. She was STACKED with almost annoyingly firm, pert girl-flesh. At the encouragement of her former peers, she snatched up a school auditorium folding chair in each hand and rolled the two of them into a single ball. Not satisfied with the cheers of her classmates she then slipped the basket-ball sized mass of metal between her long shapely thighs and crushed it utterly, syrupy red iron dripping over her knees. There were a few screams as droplets of hot metal squirted into the crowd of gawking students.
“As you see, even the smallest displays of paranatural power can be dangerous to bystanders.” Work that fear, work it. Then pull it back... “Though she does look like she’s having fun.” Katie chirped. She looked into the camera, sharing a moment “Wouldn’t we all like to be able to be able to get rid of trash like that, ladies?” She snatched up one of the energy-drink cans discretely displayed on the corner of the news desk: product placement at its finest. She mimed smashing the can between her hands, then squeaked with surprise when the can actually burst, spattering her with shiny, sticky soda.
“Ooops! Don’t know my own strength...” She waved the cameras off as she began to fuss with her clinging top.
Robert, taking center stage again, played off her joke: “Neither does she, it seems. As you can see from the earlier photos and this new footage, the Daly City Senior’s been completely transformed by her manifestation. At least she does appear calmer now. The earlier outburst may only have been a temporary bout of disorientation, overwhelmed by need to explore her new limits even at her classmate’s expense...” Like Katie, his voice and manner painted a whole different picture than the words. ‘The teen-goddess is still a wild tiger that could explode at any moment. Your children ARE NOT SAFE. Be afraid.’
He went on, "We're now told the police are escorting several students off the school ground who may have had altercations with the Angel in the past." The worried tension in his eyebrows finished thought: 'Because it would be just TERRIBLE if she plucked some mean girl's head off and drop kicked it 30 miles out into the Pacific Ocean. No one would want to see that.'
Katie nodded along, "Lets hope that their protective custody isn't required." The flicker of a sly smirk flashed across her face and was gone. Her thoughts were so obvious it might as well have been part of "the crawl" running along the bottom of the screen: 'Because seriously, folks, if I were a pissed-off super-girl, you think a couple of cops could stop me from giving some mean bitch the comeuppance she deserves?'
The box in the corner of the screen jumped to a new corner, swapping to fresh footage of several handsome high-school athletes huddled together, covered only with first aid blankets. One look at their bare knees and you knew their own clothes were gone, probably torn to shreds by needy, slender fingers. As the male half of the broadcast duo, Robert was the natural choice to play the sympathy card describing the young men who had been humiliated by a girl they’d probably ignored a dozen times that day suddenly become hundreds of times stronger than them.
‘God he’s good,’ Katie though. ‘He’s just lining them up for me to knock ‘em down. Be afraid of her and trust in me. Wouldn’t it be so much better if I was the Super one?’ The new shots of the super-teen and her obvious sexual conquests had wound the crowd up, but now it was time for Katie to steal that thunder.
“Those poor boys,” Katie trilled. Not that she or they actually looked too upset. More like exhausted. Their classmate-gone-superbabe wasn’t the only one who’d hit the jackpot. After the bruises faded they’d be bragging about this day for the rest of their lives. “But I'm afraid to say it’s possible they had a hand in it.” You could almost hear the collective gasp. “New studies now suggest some paranaturals are created by the crowds around them through a sort of cumulative desire. If enough people wanted her to become a super-girl today it could have triggered her metamorphosis.”
Larry frowned from the control booth as she went way off script. But she only needed to flash him a look in the secret language of old friends, blue eyes pleading ‘Roll with it’.
He nodded to her. ‘Make it good.’
‘Oh, I will’ she promised him with a wink.
Robert knew Katie was off-script too. They were supposed to warn people away now, using 'public responsibility' as a mask to whip the hysteria -- and ratings -- higher. But even if she were off in the bushes with her own agenda, he would never leave a wing-man hanging. “That’s right Katie, but tell the viewers what that the studies mean in layman’s terms.”
“Well, Robert...” she favored him with a wide smile. To the audience she looked delighted at this chance inform them all of this critical discovery. To Robert sitting next to her, Katie’s raised eyebrow and drumming fingers transformed the smile entirely. It said ‘you might get in my pants yet if you keep that up’ as clear as a billboard sign. “What it means is some paranaturals are just waiting for enough people to want to see them manifest. In fact they may even be PREVENTED from realizing it’s happening.” The rising tone emphasized the paranatural’s innocence in these events. As fast as she said the words people were imaging ‘what if I’m part of that special crowd and Katie was my lucky girl...?’
Right then the newsgirl’s already elfin face... shifted... the bones gaining a haunting symmetry, the cheeks lifting with a hint of lingering baby-fat Katie Grace hadn’t had in years.
Almost a million viewers around the Bay did a double take. Had the always adorable reporter just... changed? Deep in the warrens of social media the echo rang out with far less uncertainty: “You all just fucking saw that right? What do you mean you aren’t watching? Tune in now, Now, NAO!1!!”
Robert Lake’s eyebrow also rose. He’d caught her subtle metamorphosis instantly. He knew her features with or without make-up and the girlish visage beaming at him was significantly more attractive than Katie’s on her best day. This new and improved Katie looked closer to nineteen than twenty-five. A really hawt nineteen. Whatever she was up to, he was IN.
As the viewership climbed even higher on a burst of internet hits another ripple washed over the young woman’s trim body and her eyes sparkled sapphire blue. “I mean... It could happen to anyone and they wouldn’t even know.” She looked to Robert, as earnest as a puppy. It was like the old joke: ‘don’t think of green monkeys.’ Now all anyone could think about was how her face had changed, her piercing jewel-blue eyes, and the way she’d crushed that can...
That girl was going Super right there in the studio and everybody but her seemed to know it.
Part I and II have some added body now, and in particular it might be worthwhile to review part I. Because I tend to do so much focused editing after posting a chunk I'm gonna continue to break the story down into bite sized pieces for your reading and to limit and direct my screaming 'goddam typos!' at it . Plus I think Katie would approve.
We return to your program, already in progress...
by Au Goose
Robert’s deep melodious voice hooked the viewers and dragged them forward in their seats. “Our viewers may already know some of these... special... Paranaturals. He quirked an eyebrow at Katie, 'we really need a good buzzword for this line of BS...' But he continued on, more smoothly now, "For example when Mister Steel manifested during the 1981 Superbowl. That may have been a result of all the fans wanting him to– to go beyond the ordinary.” Robert offered. He didn’t know the stakes Katie was playing for, but he thought he saw shape of the con now.
Katie let out the sweetest, sexiest, most genuine laugh. It made a rod of iron out of many a listener’s cock. She’d entirely forgotten about that incident and Rob had woven it in like they were reading from a government report instead of spinning a total fabrication. Robert was an amazing bullshit artist in a clinch. Right then she seriously considered giving him a hand job under the desk over the next commercial break. If this worked he’d more than earned it. Plus he’d feel so puny in her super-strong hand. She could just slide her fingers down under his ass cheeks and hoist him to the ceiling. And if one of those super-strong fingers were to slip ...inside... him, well he’d have no right to complain after all the times he’d hinted at putting something long and hard in her ass... Down girl! Work before Play!
But oh, she would play.
“Exactly!” Katie squeaked like he’d single-handedly proven the theory beyond a shadow of a doubt. To most viewers he just had. “So if she’s one of these... Lets call them ‘Kickstarter’ Paranaturals, then she’s probably still getting stronger without even knowing it!” She felt especially clever linking the idea of fan-powered super-girls to the crowd-funding world. It turned scientific mumbo jumbo into something simple and totally believable. Something people wanted to believe could happen because they were a part of it.
Larry saw the shape of Katie’s game now too and he was betting on a winner. From the director’s booth offers were already going out at the speed of light: KIBC would graciously allow all their affiliates to carry the segment Live. “Get onboard NOW, because we’ve got a Paranatural blowout happening IN the studio.” his note read. One look at the dazzlingly beautiful creature that had replaced Larry’s prize pupil on the set and it was clear saying ‘no’ was ratings suicide. A dozen of his counterparts sent their agreement immediately: ‘Yes. So much Yes! We owe you, Larry’.
She started to appear in other cities, one after another. The threads behind her eyes wove themselves into cables as tens of thousand of new backers offered up their fantasies for every channel she conquered. All gleefully pitching in to the ‘Katie for Super-Goddess’ project. If this was a Kickstarter, she was fully funded already - there was a full-blown superwoman lurking behind her demure smile and her strength was still growing by leaps and bounds. She needed to start thinking about STRETCH goals... Because there was so much power out there for the taking!
Robert raised his hand and opened his mouth as if he was about to make a very telling point, one like ‘Its happening to you right now, Katie. You know that, right?’ but he paused.
She continued on. “But they’re also in a very fragile mental state while it’s happening. Forcing them to confront the changes before they’re finished could be... dangerous.” Her eyes literally flashed under the studio lights, ‘and you wouldn’t like me when I’m... dangerous.’
Robert recoiled from her, dropping his hand. “Like trying to wake up a sleepwalker I suppose.” he mused. He shot Katie a knowing look that was only for her. ‘Ohhh... my part’s the half-terrified, half-enchanted hostage. Got it.’
“Most sleepwalkers can’t rip a tank in half while you’re shaking their shoulder.” She smiled dreamily, picking up one of the dense reference books they kept behind the desk. It wasn’t phonebook-thick but it was still huge in her hands. She tore it in half lengthwise like it was made of kleen-ex. ‘Yes it is, Robert. Yes it is.’
Still plainly off in her own little daydream, she stacked the two pieces into a long bar over 3 inches thick and tore that the long way like it was two pieces of kleen-ex. It was strangely terrifying.
“Food for thought,” he agreed, looking a little pale. For real.
Up and down the entire West Coast thousands of shoppers, drivers, and people in offices began to look up. The face of the goddess-in-the-making shone from the largest digital billboards to the tiniest hand-held tablets all streaming live from the heart of the Internet. Graphical wizardry surrounded a raw shot of the sweetest grinning face many viewers had ever seen, adding exactly the right amount of movement and blinking colors to ensure everyone had to at least take a look. And with one look, you were hooked. The steady ongoing evolution of Miss Grace live on camera was pure, concentrated eye-candy crack and Larry was a very skilled pusher. She was getting more and more impressive right before their eyes.
Katie checked herself in the monitor. Damn she looked good. The cameramen were working it as skillfully as any centerfold spread. She was the star of course, but it was still a total team effort. They were creeping up on the perimeter of the stage and trying to get the perfect angle. If she hadn’t been wearing a turtle neck they’d already be peering down her top. One of them started to carry a shoulder cam around the edge of the desk where her chair and legs would come into view but she warned him off with a look. She could feel her legs stretching and toning, knew that they were already dazzling, but she didn’t feel they were done cooking yet. She’d hidden them from the world her whole career and when that reveal came it should be nothing less than mind-blowing. You only got to play some cards once. Annoyingly he keep on working towards the backside of the desk. Her frown turned to a glare and there was a sharp pop from inside the camera and flames began to curl up from the rubber lens-guard, the lenses within all charred black.
He finally got the picture and backed off. As he scampered away she threw him a dirty look that literally set the seat of his pant's on fire. Fortunately Ella was there with a fire extinguisher in moments.
Out in the twittersphere a war was brewing. Thousands of women viewers, seeing their chance to back what could be the most powerful woman Paranatural ever had rallied around #GoKatieGo and were actively recruiting for their champion. Meanwhile an even larger number of men eager to see her blow up into a city-destroying sex doll had gathered under the banner of #WereDoingThis! Within seconds their more radical members broke off to form the splinter group #TheDickstarters and were posting engorged 'peniselfies' to show their true devotion to the cause. The chain reaction had begun.
She ran her long fingers delicately across her collarbone, up the back of her neck and then combing out her chestnut hair, freeing it from a ponytail into a wild cascade down to her shoulders, its waving chaos framing the perfect symmetry of her face. “Ohh... Sorry. For a moment there I felt like a million of our viewers were cheering us on as we continue to track the SF Angel’s movements. And I do want to thank all our viewers. We rely on the fans to send me all their hottest d- tips!” If they thought she meant send her the hottest dicks, well, it was an honest slip of the tongue, right?
Were Katie’s small breasts just a little heavier now? Their fullness catching up with the promise of her shiny pink lips? She also seemed to sit taller in her chair, head and shoulders higher above the line of the desktop than usual. Her precise posture showcased the taper from her firm shoulders to her tiny waist. Anyone saying she was only 5’5” would get called on their obvious bullshit. More like 5’10” next to Mr. Lake’s well known 6’1”. It could just be a trick of the camera angles, but she totally looked like her height was rising into the runway supermodel range.
If only wishing made it so.
Except it looked like wishing very much DID make it so! The battle-lines drawn, the hash-tag war began in earnest when #GoKatieGo's militants started posting their own genitalia-selfies via #FeertheV and promising doom to all who did not seek the mercy of 'Our New Katie Overlord'. Before it could become a complete bloodbath the SF-geek contingent swooped in with a photon torpedo barrage of clever memes actually focusing on Katie again, fired from their stronghold at #WeLive4the1. Soon they were the acknowledged peacemakers and trusted go-betweens, backed by a tiny faction using #1HandfulsPlenty to share an incredible archive of nude photos Katie had done when she was 22 and showing her fearless and proud of her slender figure and small breasts.
At this point people were scrabbling to tell all their online friends to join the party. Because no matter which side you were on, everyone was winning. Assuming of course Katie didn't find out and decide to kill them all, as the reformed #TheDickstarters suggested in hushed posts, their new battle cry: DbKSS! (Death by Katie Snu-Snu!)
Robert looked up from his notes, his hands tightening, craftily drawing eyes off of Katie with his sudden, jerking movement and the rustle of paper. “Our field reporter is pulling on to the campus grounds now! Please tell your friends to tune in to this very special report on this breaking story as we go live to the scene.
The screen split and Katie and Robert turned to the right to look off stage at their monitor while the audience got the footage direct on the right half of the screen. With only the slightest bit of shaky cam (which Larry could have easily corrected, but the audience expected such things), the reporter and his cameraman were working their way through a parking lot almost commando-style. The teenage “SF Angel” as the internet had named her was in what appeared to be a student parking lot, dead-lifting an older car over her head as 10 classmates balanced on top like surfers. Even the awkward camera work couldn’t fail to accentuate her powerful comic-book body and her muscles effortlessly raising and lowering tons of Detroit steel and California student bodies. It was as wholesome as a 50’s beach party movie. A young Elvis could come strolling in to croon to the girl and nobody would even blink.
Katie managed to fight down the flinch. Holy fuck, Little Miss Daly City was a super hottie! Katie had never done it with another woman, but if she won this bet the first thing she was gonna do was fly down there and have a little 'exclusive interview'. The girl was lifting tons like it was nothing... and Katie would be So. Much. Stronger! She was going to be able to pin even that titan down like a child and cover her supposedly bullet proof skin with super-hickeys... Fair’s fair -She’d done worse to some of her classmates. Katie would just be the duly appointed agent of cosmic kharma...
Second ticked by, a hush fallen over the studio. “You have to wonder if by reporting on her, we’re making her more powerful?” Robert mused. “So many viewers...”
“Mmmm-hmmm...”Katie leaned back almost off the left edge of the screen with a throaty contented sigh, letting the audience know she was as impressed with the girl’s display of power as they had to be. But inside she was totally ready to feel her own power blast past anything that trollop could do. ‘Sorry, little girl’ she thought to herself.
Katie laced her flingers behind her head, ruffling her loose hair, causing a little red sparkle as one of her earrings caught the light. The simple gesture also pulled her shoulders back, lifting her chest in a beautiful echo. She looked at the camera and through it into millions of hungry eyes. “It’s possible our viewers are creating the next super-goddess Right Now. If she’s unknowingly a ‘kickstarter’, audience participation would be the key... Everything would depend on how much they actually want her to grow. She could have started changing hours ago without-"
Katie's form visibly pulsed, becoming more toned under the smooth skin.
She pulsed again, leaving her fuller figured.
And a third time, her head surging a full inch taller.
Katie's eyes closed and she let out a soft 'hhuuuhhh?' as her whole body levitated out of the chair. Not only was she floating, but for the first time ever the audience saw the brash flare of her womanly hips below her waif-like waist. It was the stuff of dreams for many, and Katie had delivered on those dreams spectacularly.
Still in the seated position, Katie drifted upwards three more inches, bring her knees into view and revealing the front of her skirt didn't quite reach them. Being spread wider her shoulders, they created a trick of perception as if viewers were peering into a long dim corridor between her milky thighs... and leaving millions staring in absolute agony at the equally absolute blackness that concealed the passageway's fullest depths. Just as it seemed certain her rise would allow light to reveal the color of her panties (if any!!), Katie's body unbent at the waist, her shoulders swinging away and her knees plunging back below the edge of the desk. She drifted back down into her chair, reclining lazily and giving the viewers the hooded smile of a lingering afterglow. 'Yeah, as orgasms go that... was a good one.'
Or maybe of a cat that had just eaten that damn canary. Because Katie Grace could FLY.
She lifted a hand, waving almost drunkenly, "Now over to Dave in the field." She slurred the words adorably, smaller aftershocks of pleasure still sending ripples up and down her body.
How could anyone really not know THAT was happening to them?!?!! Except... the reporter had told them that a Kickstarter might not be able to recognize any kinds of changes, even if it was to her own body.
On the left half of the screen Robert, being a gentleman, assisting Katie back into a more upright posture in her chair while she apologized softly for her fainting spell. On the right, a shaky zoom-in on the teenaged Paranatural’s smiling face and pumping arms. Even disheveled and dizzy, it was no contest who was the bigger draw. Millions of people were wanting someone they were seeing to keep on erupting into a super-goddess, but it wasn't the SF Angel – who was already quite satisfactory to many.
The focus pulled back from the Angel and Dave's head dipped into view. “Excuse me miss? Dave Moore, KIBC news. Can we talk with you for a moment?”
The young titan – looking a little more tame now as Katie was catching up – turned to the reporter, her long hair shaking down behind her and framing Dat Ass. Every breath was held—
Every breath was held--
Including MINE, dammit!
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Next part please!
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But, props for the #Dickstarter hashtag, I laughed at that one!
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