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Deep Down Inside - Part 40 - One Dam Holds …

Written by circes_cup :: [Friday, 14 March 2014 05:20] Last updated by :: [Friday, 14 March 2014 09:03]

Part 40 - One Dam Holds …



Warning: This is adult literature. If you’re not of a legal age to read this stuff, don’t.

Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. No semblance between the characters described here and real individuals – living or dead – is implied or intended.



Ethan splashed a pail of water on Vicky's face, followed by the other girls. The withdrawal of the aliens had left the, with head-splitting migraines, as if they were going cold turkey after an addiction. After returning from Central Asia, they had simply collapsed by the pool.

"There will be time for hangovers later," he shouted. "Right now, the world needs you."

"That's easy for you to say," Vicky grumbled. "You didn't fuck up half of Kazakhstan yesterday."

Ethan suspected the explosion on the Asian steppe had the girls behind it, but he didn't want to know the details. He had seen too much good come out of them. "Whatever you did last night, here's a chance to redeem yourselves."

The girls followed him into a command center, where a map was displayed on the main screen. "San Pacian, Mexico. The drug gangs you took on are pissed, and they're scared too. Wild animals are always dangerous when they're pissed, more so when they're scared."

"And what are these wild animals doing?"

"They've planted bomb on the dam upstream from this city, which they will be detonating any moment now. There are a hundred thousand people in that town. Half the city could wind up underwater."

"Shit," Kim whispered under her breath. "And so they are holding the whole city hostage."

"No," Ethan replied. "They're going to blow the dam before you get there. This is just to send a message, about what they are capable of. The point it to get you to back off."

"Back off? These people are the only idiots in the world who think that crossing us is a survival strategy."

"Go now, and do what you can," Ethan said. "I'll be on the communicator."

"This is our fault," Vicky said miserably. "The gangs are terrorizing this city because we pressured them."

"Vicky that's not tr-" But Ethan never finished his sentence. They were gone.



The dam was already blown. The girls saw it come apart as they approached. Far below her feet, through the thick tropical haze, Vicky could see torrent of water barreling down the canyon. Shortly after the canyon, it spread across a wide, unpopulated valley, but nonetheless continued its juggernaut path downhill.

"The city is ninety miles downstream," Ethan explained into the communicator. "You probably have about three hours before it gets there."

The city, it turned out, was in complete chaos.The public had been made aware of the situation through emergency broadcasts, and was descending into a state of fear-stricken madness. Highways were choked with traffic. Crowds surged through the city streets, in such overwhelming numbers that people were being trampled to death. Overloaded ferries struggled across the swiftly-moving river, and it would only be a matter of minutes before one capsized and sent hundreds to their death. A fire at a chemical plant burned out of control. Alarms at the nuclear plant were sounding.

"When it the rest of the help coming?" Vicky asked into her communicator. "They have a plan in place for this, right?"

"You are the rest of the help, Vicky."

"Ethan, there are only four of us up here. We can't possibly evacuate this city on our own."

"You have to try."

I'm going to fuck it up, she whispered to herself, as a dull panic overcame her. I'm in over my head. We can't be all places at once.

But then, in her mind, she pictured Jared face, his knowing eyes. For him, Vicky reminded herself. You have to have courage. That's what he would want you to do.

"Louisa and Tamara, you deal with the mess at the river, then get over to the nuclear plant to see why that alarm is going off. Kim, you deal with that huge fire. I'll figure out a way to prevent the flood."

Screams wafted up from below. Vicky set her jaw in determination.



"Maximum Capacity 1000 Passengers" read the sign on the deck of the ferry. Fat chance that, thought the crewman who manned the bow. The decks swarmed with more people than he had ever seen on the boat – panicked, frightened people, desperate to escape the city for higher ground. An inviting hill, with many acres on top, was visible just across the river, and hordes of people were trying to get to it.

The boat listed ponderously in the stiff current of the river, seemingly unsure whether it could remain upright with the added weight. They had only a quarter mile to go, he reminded himself as the ferry's deck rolled uncertainly. But it was a frightening quarter mile, where the river channel deepened and the current strengthened.

He found himself wishing that he had learned to swim. He had always meant to do so; a life on the ferry boat made him fear one day winding up in the water. But like ninety-five percent of the people on the boat, he had never learned.

The boat began to enter the meaner part of the current, and he felt the bow swing unsteadily back and forth, up and down. The rolling of the boat was becoming more violent, and he began to wonder how wise this was.

The captain should have been less generous, should have left some of these passengers on the dock. The dock seemed like an inviting place right now – solid wood vertical piers and metal horizontal surface.The metal surface was in a lattice pattern – like a chain link fence but with smaller holes. It dug into his bare feet whenever he walked on it. For 20 years he had hated the pain that dock had brought him. Now, it would have given anything to feel its solidity dig into the pads of his feet.

Another violent roll of the bow. Looking down at the churning water, the crewman felt a strange nausea come over him. The bow had never rolled like that before.

He looked back over the length of the boat. The electronics mast pitched quickly from left to right – from 1:00 on the dial to 11:00, and then to 1:30, and then-

SPLASH. The boat had succumbed, the mast pitching all the way over to 3:00 as hundreds spilled desperately into the river. He felt himself become consumed by the warm green water of the river, thrashed violently to keep his head above water, and watched as others moved with similar desperation. Thousands more still remained on the vessel, no doubt, crawling on top of each other as chambers began slowly to fill with water.

As he struggled to tread water, his vision suddenly filled with feet – four of them, to be precise. They were floating above, several inches above the waves. His eye traveled upwards to see two of the most extraordinary women imaginable. Was this a dying vision?

"Can those people swim?" asked the blond.

He coughed and sputtered but could not get enough air for words.

"I take that for a no." She turned to her friend with dark curls in her hair. "You get the boat, Louisa. I'll get the people in the water."

The dark-haired girl streaked away in a blur. Her path arced downward and she hit the water like a cannonball, sending a plume of spray three stories skyward.

He heard a monstrous GROAN emanate from the boat. It was righting itself.

Slowly, it began rising from the water.

Sheets of river water cascaded off of it as the boat miraculously rose – portholes and hatchways resembling the ends of fire hoses as water gushed out of them. The superstructure cleared the waterline, and then the bow, and then the lower parts of the hull, gray with river slime. The boat wasn't just being stabilized. It was being lifted out of the water.

The source of this mysterious propulsion quickly came into view – the dark-haired woman, insect-sized compared to the craft she held, was underneath. Her suit, if you could call it that, was next to nothing, and it left the full voluptuousness of her dimensions on display.

Despite the enormity of what she held, her expression was relaxed.

"You can DO that?" he sputtered involuntarily up to her, somehow finding his air.

"It DOES take some effort," she admitted, hefting the boat experimentally – like a quick bench press – and smiled downward at him. "It is 2,500 tons, after all."

As this transpired, the blond disappeared as well and emerged near the dock – the one he had walked so many times for his job. The dock was perhaps a hundred feet long and twenty wide. Facing him, she bent at the knees, grabbed the dock, and without a shred of effort on her face, stood up. Her superhuman muscles seemed to writhe and dance under her skin as the dock groaned uselessly in protest. Loud BANGs announced the failure of steel bolts thicker than his forearm as they were far overmatched by her inhumanly strong muscles.

Moments later, she and the dock had taken to the air. Despite the fact that he was now treading water in the shadow of a flying ferry, it was still shocking to see the dock, fixed to the earth for all those years, now in the air. The dock had a lattice-type surface – stips of steel intersecting diagonally with holes in between. The blond woman flew directly to the part of the river with the most drowning people and dipped that large platform into the water. Slowly, she brought it across the water, and then up. She was using it like a slotted spoon, he finally realized, to literally scoop people out of the water.

Moments later, his turn came as well. He soon found the dock underneath him, and then was lifted clear of the river as water streamed off of him and dozens of others who had been scooped up. Looking below, they were flying perhaps fifty feet in the air. The blond was invisible to him from his position. Part of him thought it should be scared to be on a dock, of all things, flying.

But, no, he had seen what these women could do. Although his view of the blond was obstructed, he knew she was there. And as long as she was there, he knew, he was safe.



The streets were a sea of humanity – thousands upon thousands of people fleeing the city. The excited mob was pressing forward in its panic. At the back of the mob, this felt like little more than unpleasant shoving. But at the front, the forces were compiled, and the movement of the mob became a force so overwhelming it was crushing the life out of people. Frightened pedestrians at the front of the mob were suffocating from the pressure, unable to expand their ribcages for even a single breath. Vicky began to realize that the fear of a flood might wind up killing just as many people as a flood itself.

BOOM went another explosion at the chemical plant, followed by a bright a fireball. The crowd crushed upon itself with new hysteria. I hope Kim gets that damn fire out, Vicky thought to herself, before half the people in this city become doormats.

Another fireball went skyward with an even larger BOOM. The crowd made another deadly surge into itself. I've got do to something, Vicky thought as she hovered over the back of the crowd.

"Please," Vicky shouted from above. "Please stop pushing!"

The crowd gave no response. If anyone was assured or disturbed by seeing a flying woman above, they gave no indication.

Vicky elevated her voice to the volume of a dozen cannons. "PLEASE STOP PUSHING!!"

Below her, a scream erupted from the crowd and it surged forward with new vigor. They were petrified of her.

"Damn it," Vicky whispered to herself. "I've only made things worse."


The fire chief honked the horn of the firetruck again, but there was no point. Traffic throughout the city was a snarl even on a good day. And days when half the city might soon be underwater did not count as good days. Traffic had been so bad that he had taken the special situations truck out on his own: the rest of the crew was stuck out there somewhere, trying to get back to the firehouse.

The irony of today's events wasn't lost on him. He was responding to a fire at a chemical storage facility. On any other day, this would have been the biggest news in town, endangering the health of hundreds. But today, with the dam detonated, he wondered whether there was even any point to putting out this fire. The water would consume them all.

Without warning, a woman appeared in front of his vehicle. He slammed on the brakes, bringing the front bumper to a rest only inches from her kneecaps.

She seemed unperturbed by the near miss. And what a loss it would have been, he remarked as his eyes surveyed her luscious curves. She was god's gift to men, and it would have been a particular shame to see such divine perfection leave this world. He watched in grateful fascination as she circled around to board the cab through the passenger door.

"I saw a big fire from up there," her eyes rolled skyward. "Seems to be in a warehouse."

"Yes, a warehouse full of ammonia tanks. Very dangerous. The only way to put it out with with the special flame retardant." He motioned his thumb toward the back of his truck. It was the only thing his truck carried. And his was the only truck that carried it. "But there is nothing we can do – not with this traffic."

"Why not?"

"It's not as if my truck can fly."

"Get out."


The fire chief put up several meek objections to exiting the firetruck, but with traffic at a standstill, there was really no harm to be done. And he enjoyed doing what she asked; it brought a mushy warmth to his insides. As they stood out in front of the red behemoth, he wondered to himself what where this strange, deadly day would go next.

Then, without any fanfare, the woman reached a hand under the front bumper and heaved the cab skyward. He almost shouted in shock as the truck reared up at a 45-degree angle. Its girth was so great that it threw a shadow over him as it moved. Before the front of the truck could return to earth, the woman moved beneath it with blinding speed, and was soon holding the vehicle one-handed above her head.

"You're one of the supergirls," he remarked.

"Thank you for the news flash," she smiled. "Name's Kim."

"So, tell me how to fight fires," she instructed.

"Do you need to put the truck, uh, down, while we talk?"

"No, it weighs very little – to me."

"Punch a few holes in the roof to relieve the hot gasses, then chemical retardant on the base. Go quickly: fires get exponentially worse the longer they burn."

"Where are the valves on the truck?"

"Over there," he pointed.

He watched in stupefaction as the woman careened skyward with the truck in hand. She stopped about twenty feet in the air to grab a light pole with a free hand, plucking it out of the ground with no more effort than a child would a dandelion.

The fire was fifteen blocks away. She seemed to realize that as well: she soared over the rooftops, truck and streetlight in hand, in the direction of the blaze.

Huffing, he ran frantically toward the blaze, not knowing how he could help, but nonetheless feeling that it was his duty to be there.

She arrived long before he did, but the straight streets in this neighborhood gave him a good view of the action even five blocks out. His heart thumped in his chest and his hands pumped in front of him as he ran, but his eyes stayed skyward toward her.

With a diagonal wave of her arm, she launched the truck skyward above and sent it spinning as well – one, two, three times it rolled over above her. She watched the vehicle carefully, seeming to assess it. Then, her arm lashed out again, arresting the vehicle's movement. Her leg formed a blur as she slammed it into the valve structure, crumpling the shiny steel like tin foil. Foam began to gush out, but she quickly compensated by rotating the newly formed hole skyward.

Approaching the blaze, the supergirl thrust streetlight downward repeatedly, like a sewing needle on a machine. A glob of concrete mounting clung to the bottom of the streetlight, and it served as the head of the battering ram, slamming a large hole in the roof of the warehouse. Finally, she launched it downward, hard, like a javelin. The streetlight must have punched through every floor in the structure: when it came to rest, only the top of the pole and crossbar poked above the roof.

With both hands now free, the supergirl rotated the truck handily and poured the foam down the holes. Wow, the driver thought as he finally arrived at the site, that truck has fifty thousand dollars of electronic pumping gear on it. And yet, to her, it's about a complicated as a big tea kettle.

Fifteen minutes later, she came down out of the sky. He ran up to her – his feet aching, sweat burning down his temples, his lungs heaving for air. The fire was out. The firetruck lay on the ground in shambles, torn open like a sardine can in apparent attempt to get at the last of the foam.

The stunning woman, however, was in much better shape. In fact, she hadn't been winded at all by the exertion of flying a fully-loaded firetruck over city streets, of tearing it open like a present. All he had done was run fifteen blocks, and he was exhausted.

"How'd I do?" she asked. Soot covered her face, but her eyes were bright.

"You did great – better than great" he said, lifting his fireman's hat and placing it on her head. "There – honorary fire captain."

She beamed as she put it on her head, tucking her hair up under it. The heavy plastic hat was by far the most substantial thing she was wearing.

He looked over her mouth-watering curves. He took in skin that was so free of blemishes that it almost mocked the smoldering destruction around her. He gazed as well in to the delicate perfection of her face, and the electric warmth of her perfect white smile and shining hazelnut eyes.

"Do you think I can make the fireman's calendar this year?" she asked running a perfectly manicured fingernail along the rim of her new hat.

"Baby, you would be the whole calendar."





Alarms flashed red and sirens squealed at the control room of the nuclear plant.

"Anything we can help with?"

Two stunning women had somehow snapped apart the lock on the door and were stepping into the control room. A blond, and a brunette with dark, corkscrew curls in her hair. The chief engineer recognized them as Tamara and Louisa, two of the supergirls. They were clad the kind of skimpy attire that only a select few in the world can get away with.

"Unless you know how to disable an out-of-control reactor core, no," and engineer replied.

"What the hell happened?" asked Tamara over the siren.

"Some workers had abandoned their posts when they heard about the flood. And without supervision, the cooling system failed. The reactor core is overheating. And even if we get the cooling system back, it's too late now. The reactor is melting through the containment vessel itself. If the containment vessel breaches, it's a second Chernobyl."

"You mean, the reactor has too much energy? It's too hot?" the supergirl Louisa asked.

The engineer nodded.

"And you need a way to bleed the energy away to some other containment vessel?"

He nodded again.

The supergirl Louisa allowed a look of relief to cross her face. She ran a hungry finger over one breast as she turned to her blond friend. "I think this is what they call a 'win-win'."



Vicky felt a growing sense of dread as the crowd surged beneath her. Her plea for calm earlier, delivered at a thundering volume, had left them even more fear-stricken than they had been originally. The setting of the sun made things even worse: the only thing scarier that drowning, apparently, was drowning in the dark. As a result, the crowd surged mindlessly forward. Vicky considered laying down some energy beam fire to discourage their forward press, but decided against it.

"Don't push forward as much," she shouted at a more reasonable, but still audible, volume. "You'll just crush the people in front of you. And if the flood comes, you'll be no better off down the road than you are right here!"

That did no good. In fact, the crowd surged yet again. You've fucked it up again, Vicky. When it's just your muscles, you do fine. But when it comes to dealing with people, you're a bull in a china shop.

Taking a deep breath, Vicky tried to calm herself. Have faith in them again, Tamara had told her after the party in Tempe. Do that, and you'll find yourself being everything they need you to be.

Looking downward past her feet, she saw the people in a slightly differently light. They have every right to panic, she told herself. If I were in their shoes, I'd do the same thing.

Vicky abandoned the back of the crowd and flew to the front. An enormous spotlight illuminated the skies over a car dealership, and in the emergency, nobody had thought to turn it off.

"Point it at me," Vicky ordered a technician that was fumbling with it.

He did so, apparently subscribing to the belief that orders from a flying woman should always be obeyed.

The spotlight illuminated Vicky in stunning brightness, and cast her shadow on an office tower down the street. The angle was such that her shadow stood fifty feet tall.

The crowd paused.

"I know you're scared," her voice boomed. "You have every right to be. The flood is serious."

The crowd seemed to temper somewhat at this. Shouts were replaced with murmurs. Her five story shadow loomed over them and filled them with the promise of her power.

She continued, "The flood is serious. But so is the power of a supergirl. You have the most powerful people in the world here to help you – not just one, but all four. We will deal with it. We will protect you."

The crowd's deadly forward momentum seemed to ease, and those being crushed at the front were suddenly able to gasp for air.

Vicky could feel the crowd's energy shift in her favor. The were ready to accept her as her leader, if she was ready to seal the deal. She gathered her courage and heard herself speak.

"Trust me."

And they did.



Tamara flew only feet above the reactor shell, Louisa close by her side.

"Time to initiate reactor containment countermeasures," Louisa giggled as she removed the cloth panel from one breast and then the other.

"No hogging it," Tamara chided. "You have to share." She gently separated the top of her uniform too, letting her voluminous breasts spring free.

They looked at the reactor below and licked their lips.

"Ready?" Louisa asked. "One, two, three!"

Arcs of lightning formed between the reactor core and the girls' chests, blinding blue bolts that rivaled the sun for brightness and set the entire reactor complex awash in pale light.

Tamara felt her chest become enveloped by a delightful warmth as a city's worth of power piled into it. She was already carrying enough power to level multiple cities, but she couldn't resist the desire to have more, more, more. Her toes tingled. Every cell of her body felt more alive.

Greedily, the two girls sucked the offending heat and energy out of the reactor. As the process progressed, the girls could tell the temperature was dropping. Automatic sirens silenced themselves. Red flashing lights blinked off.

And yet, the girls continued. Tamara's breasts felt like vessels being filled – deep yearning turned instantly to deep gratification. Her nipples scrunched into diamond hardness at the sensations she experienced.

"You can stop now!" shouted an engineer from below. But the girls ignored him, draining more and more power from the plant.

When they were finally done, Tamara released a satisfied sigh as she slid the panels of her salacious uniform back over her nipples. Below their dainty toes, under the hot Brazilian sun, wisps of freezing vapor drifted off the reactor shell. The heat-deprived reactor was now a block of ice.  


As Vicky flew upstream, the city behind now seemed remarkably collected for one facing a threat of watery death. Ferries continued to shuttle people to higher ground, albeit with passenger loads somewhat closer to the capacity of the boat. Crowds remained calm. Fires had been extinguished. The only trouble that remained was the massive wall of water that continued to march downstream.

Vicky found a bend in the river, with steep limestone hills on each side, and braced for action. For her and the other girls, the ability to fly was more than just a vague sense of floating. They flew by "pushing" against other objects – the earth, the atmosphere, even the distant moon. But that "pushing" power could be used in more ways than one.

At her chosen bend in the river, Vicky slammed her force into the hills downstream from her.

Turning, she saw the wall of water approach. "I have to believe I can do this," she whispered, steeling her might.

Her force slammed forward into the water. It began to pile up under the resistance of her force – thousands upon thousands of tons. Her force formed an impenetrable wall, like an invisible dam, giving the downstream end of the stalled mass the appearance of the side of an aquarium.

{{ It's working! }} she shouted telepathically to her girlfriends, two of whom soon joined her after completing their individual tasks. While Tamara helped hold the water back, Kim flew upstream and blasted a few breaches in the canyon walls, further relieving the pressure.

Vicky opened a small hole in the bottom of her "dam", also to relieve the pressure, allowing perhaps twice the flow that the dam would have. It was enough water to flood part of the city, but more the level of an annoyance than the level of a life-threatening emergency.

Vicky felt a gratified smile cross her face at realizing what she had done. Jared will be proud of this, she realized. She was exhausted, but it was the exhaustion of a job well done – and that was the best kind.

Even after all their feats as super powered beings, Vicky was still awed by the sheer magnitude of their power. They had stopped a wall of water, literally, from hitting San Pacian. Even more impressive, the feat had required only three of the girls. The fourth hadn't even been needed.

That reminds me, Vicky thought, where the hell is Louisa?  


The drug kingpin watched the TV and chuckled to himself as he saw the destruction unfold. With the dam blown, there was no technology on earth that could save the city from the wall of water that would cover it.

Over the preceding weeks, the authorities – and those annoying girls – had chopped his supply lines to shreds, shut down his production facilities, put much of his leadership behind bars. But he still knew how to hit where it hurt, he bragged to himself as he watched the TV. Thousands would die, and it would teach the world a lesson.

The news broadcast was just about to provide a breaking update when he received a tap on the shoulder. We have an unexpected visitor, it was explained to him. She's been restrained. You should come get a look at her.

The visitor turned out to be totally hot, like a pristine French angel, or some shit like that. But she had major sex appeal. She was tied up and blindfolded. The placement of her arms behind her back only accentuated those awesome tits.

The kingpin felt a slight hesitation upon seeing her. Yes, she was hot – a little too hot, in fact. "You … you are one of those super girls?" he asked bluntly.

She blew an errant lock of dark, corkscrew curls out of her face. "The super girls should all trying to deal with your little death party in San Pacian," she countered. The corner of her mouth turned upward into a mischievous smile. "Besides, why would a supergirl allow your thugs to tie her up?"

It was a flimsy argument if there ever was one. You shouldn't believe it, he told himself.

And yet, he thought, this chick was just SO damn hot. Who could be blame him for hoping that she would be harmless? Who could blame him for wanting to feel those lush inviting lips on his body? Who could blame him for wanting to feel those hard curves rub across his …

"You still with me?" the stunning woman asked. "You seemed lost in thought there."

"Uh …" He struggled for a question. "Why you come here?"

She smiled radiantly at him – straight, alabaster rows teeth, a pristine complexion. She shifted slightly in her bindings: her taut, hourglass figure twisted and pulled vigorously at her unfortunate clothes. Every time she inhaled, her bust seemed nearly to explode. It was a body that wanted to be explored, wanted to be …

Stop it, his mind begged the rest of him! Something wasn't right about her, he noted.

But then his eyes drank up the pale creaminess of her skin. It was flawless. And those legs – extending their length luxuriously across the floor, stretching and folding as she writhed, showing off all of their shapely curves. She wiggled happily in her bindings, waiting for him to untie her. And his fingers, for their part, itched to take on the task. Yes, there may be something wrong about her. BUT, there's SO MUCH about her that is SO right.

"Why am I here, you ask?" Her musical voice spoke again, it sent a thrilling tingle straight down his spine. "Because you won, baby."

The blindfold still on, she lit up another brilliant smile. "The flood is on its way to San Pacian even as we speak, and the stupid police learned their fucking lesson. They're going to leave your ass alone. And with all the other kingpins dead or in jail, you have a monopoly on the whole area. You're the guy everyone will want to be friends with."

Damn right, he told himself. All the other assholes in this business can kneel down and kiss my foot. Hell, he boasted to himself, when they see this incredible mamacita by my side, they'll be kissing both feet.

"I'm a peace offering," she elaborated. "From some gangs in the US that want to do business with you."

"What gang?"

"The uh … the SG's."

"SG's … what the fuck does that stand for?"

"We're new on the scene. But since all the old players are currently rehabilitating themselves in correctional institutions, you'll be dealing with us from now on. Believe me."

"You right about one thing," he replied. "I am the boss now, el jefe. Every production facility in Mexico, I own. I make the decisions. If they you sent here to negotiate some treaty or something, they make a big mistake. No treaty, and no sharing of the business. Big mistake."

"I didn't come here negotiate." Her voice dropped a notch, sending his spine from tingling to feeling like gelatin. "Like I said, I'm a peace offering. I came here to screw your brains out."



The gang's leader was disgusting, Louisa noted as she followed him into the bedroom. He reeked.

"Let's do this in the shower, honey," Louisa proposed. "I want to rub my soapy hands all over you."

And so they did. She ran soap and washcloth over him in the most sensuous way those objects had ever been used. And in order to prevent him from feeling singled out, she ran the soap over herself as well.

She watched his eyes follow the soapy water down. The suds bunched in a great stampede to traverse the valley of her cleavage, only to spread wide when they reached her midriff. They galloped after each other through the rolling hills of her abdomen. Some of them beat a path across the firm ridge lines that defined her legs. Other suds plunged into the valley of her sex. By watching his eyes, she knew he wanted to visit that valley.

In time, the cleaning ended. He grabbed her roughly and placed an aggressive kiss on her mouth. He was the least sensual man she had been with in a long time. Patience, she reminded herself, as she gently broke the kiss.

"Tell me, who thought up the idea of blowing the dam in San Pacian?" She planted her hands against the wall, encouraging him to take her from behind. That way, she did not have to look at him.

"That was me," he grunted. She felt the head of his cock against her sex. Obligingly, she shifted her hips slightly and allowed him to enter her.

He quickly filled her with the hardness of his needs.

Having him inside of her felt … unexpectedly invigorating. Her mind now stuggled with the sentences. "And were you … were you the one that masterminded taking that guy hostage, and then asking the supergirl to kill the Mexican cabinet?"

"Uh-huh," he grunted, thrusting.

Louisa winced at the admission, but only the tile wall saw it. She shouldn't have been surprised. Chad's information had practically led her to his doorstep.

She pretended it was Chad behind her, rather than him. With that self-delusion in mind, his thrusts began to feel very good to her. She began to match his rhythm perfectly.

And before long, she felt him loose himself inside of her. She savored the moment. It was to be one of his last.

After a time, pulled away from him, and turned to face him. "And now, you're the last asshole standing – the man who controls all the pieces on the game board."

He nodded with a snarl.

"Then you deserve what's coming to you." She grabbed his hands and placed them at her sides. Then, she glanced down at the suds still galloping over her mountain tits. "Pick me up, so that you can enjoy my awesome tits with your mouth."

He did so, hoisting her up such that her bust was level with his head.

But after only a minute, she felt his muscles begin to quiver with the strain.

"Your arms are shaking."

"Pesado," he replied. Heavy.

"Looks like you need to spend more time in the gym."

"No more talk, bitch."

"Sorry," Vicky purred. "That's not fair. I'm sure those big muscles are plenty strong."

He put her down and then flexed a bicep. It formed a baseball size lump. Somewhere in her distant past, Louisa would have viewed that as impressive.

"Wow, you ARE strong." Louisa patronized. "But let me help you out a little." She carefully placed each foot on the lip of the tub and stood up, bringing her abdomen in line with his nose. Then, she bent over slightly at the waist, draping her voluminous breasts over his face. "There you go. No more lifting required."

He buried his face in her breasts and kneaded them fiercely. In her old body, the aggressive squeezing would have hurt. Now, it felt simply delicate.

"Tell me something," she purred as she ran soapy hands over his backside. "How many people have you killed?"

"Many," he grunted. "You too if you don't shut up."

"Many …" she mused. "I suppose I would have answered it the same way. Who can keep track anyway. And did you ever regret killing someone?"

"No. Never."

She looked down at him as she corralled her breasts with a hand on the side of each. "Doesn't that feel good – when you kill someone and know that you don't have to regret it?"

"Shut up!" he growled, an open-palmed hand at her face. It felt like nothing to her, but she saw him wince with the sting of the blow.

"That bomb you sent to blow up my friend – do you want to see what stopped it?"

"Yes, if it shut you up!"

Still standing above him with her feet on the lip of the tub, she let her voluminous tits drape down over his head. She pressed them together.

"Mmmphh," he screamed.

Then, she straightened her posture and his feet rose off the ground. He began to struggle, and even piled a fist into one of her breasts.

"That's the softest part of my body. Are you sure you can't do anything to hurt me even a little there?"

He thrust his knee into her groin, and then made a screaming sound as his mortal kneecap collided with her genetically enhanced pubic bone.

"OK, so that's the OTHER softest part of my body. You're quite the anatomy expert!"

"Mmmphh," came the reply from her bosom. He flailed at her with his arms, a series of desperate, viscious blows. To her extraordinary abdominal muscles, the blows felt like getting tickled with a blade of grass.

"I always enjoy reminding myself how inferior your genetics are. My boobs can take even more abuse that you're giving them. Wanna see?"

"MMMPHH" he shouted.

"OK. Ill take that for a 'yes'. She pressed her breasts together and heard a CRACK as his skull fractured.

"Arrrghh." he replied, as his protestations weakened.

"You're probably think that took some effort for me. Well, you're wrong. Nothing does."

Louisa pressed her breasts together slightly harder and was rewarded with a POP as the man's head exploded.

His body slumped to the bottom of the tub, and she let the warm shower water cascade over her. She ran appreciative hands over her deadly mammaries, and smiled as the blood ran in rivulets down them.

"That one was for you, Chad," she whispered.



Vicky grinned as the cheers came up from the girls' mansion below. The rugby guys, the coordination team – everyone – had gathered to welcome the girls back from a big day of heroism. They had saved San Pacian from the deluge, a fire, and other perils besides. Louisa had hunted down the perpetrator and had finished him.. The back of the Mexican drug trade was now fully broken.

Vicky smiled. "With this hero stuff, I think we're finally getting the hang of it. I think I'm finally ready to go back to J-"

She never finished her sentence. A blinding pain shot through her insides, and she keeled over. It was a too-familiar feeling, and it filled her with dread.

As she closed her eyelids, she felt the bright rays of the Phoenix sun beat at her with new, relentless intensity.

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