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They’re all ‘Meteoroids’ First...

Written by AuGoose :: [Friday, 04 March 2016 02:01] Last updated by :: [Sunday, 11 September 2016 22:34]

They’re all ‘Meteoroids’ First …

By Au Goose

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A work of erotic fiction. Totally unsafe for work (doubly so if you’re a rocket scientist). Warrantee expires if tag is removed or taken into space.

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“Roger that Mission Control. We have visual on the object. Specialist Sawyer is suiting up for EVA now. We appear on schedule for demolition and then executing de-orbit burn. We’ll take out this rock and head back to the barn.”

“Roger, Icarus. Mission Control is standing by if you need anything. Looks good from our cameras on the ground too.”

Specialist Sawyer, Heather, was checking the last of the seals on her suit even now. She’d gotten lucky: she’d worked hard to be on the standby list for space shots but her experience with explosives had bumped her forward for today’s mission. You picked up the strangest stuff when you were a superwoman’s closest friend. She’d already learned demolition as part of her regular job, but she’d gotten advanced classes from one of the world’s most feared villains … Decimator had kidnapped Heather to torment Sky Girl and gotten bored waiting for the heroine to discover his death maze. They talked. She’d complimented the neat lacing on his wiring, peering down at the bomb under her chair. “None of that sloppy spaghetti shit Shadowfang had used …” One thing lead to another and Decimator ended up teaching Heather techniques that put her years ahead of the curve. After Sky Girl finally arrived and kicked his ass, Heather had added it to her resume and upped her rates. She was an artist blowing things up these day. And now she was in SPACE! So cool.

She was up here today because of “the Rogue” as everyone called it. Earth had acquired a tiny new moon as a hunk of rock from deep space had fallen into orbit crisscrossing the track used  by most communications satellites. Every week or two it had bumped into one of those satellites, doing tens of millions of dollars of damage with every glancing collision. Something had to be done. People had asked Sky Girl of course, but Jen didn’t like to go into space. The radiation made her woozy. So now Heather was up here saving the day when even her super-duper girlfriend had backed down. It made her feel so … so powerful. Usually Jen was the powerful one in their relationship. Duh.

Heather had been jealous at first. Her foolhardy friend daring to grab hold of the alien stone first, the pink glow around it flowing off of its pocked and scorched surface to wrap around her body. It had surrounded her and lifted her into the air, sinking into her skin through every pore. In less than a minute she’d become some kind of wholesome, family-friendly cross between a primordial big-breasted fertility goddess and Earth’s perkiest cheerleader. It was embarrassing how beautiful she was. Really embarrassing: Jenna and Heather had both been rendered wet with their own juices in moments. It had even permanently dyed Jenna’s irises and hair a bright punk candy pink (her nipples too, though the panting girls hadn’t discovered that until some minutes later …). Ok, Jen looked wholesome, but she had not lost her wild streak in the slightest. Oh, that first night …

How could Heather not be jealous? It could so easily have been her! But Jen was just so nice about it. She’d tried for weeks to share her powers with friend. Hugged her, kissed her, and some rather more intimate contact while trying to will the energy into her friend. At least, that was the excuse they shared. Jen even ground the original meteor into dust between her hands and put it in what turned out to be the nastiest milkshake imaginable (and believe me, Heather drank it all anyway, just on the off chance …).

But it was not to be.

She and Jenna were still best friends even though they had grown up and found other partners after college. Jen both superhero and wealthy fashion designer, Heather going into her family’s construction business. They still went to each other’s houses for holidays and shared a little wine before getting frisky just for old times sake. Jen gave her some great Christmas “presents” and not just clothes made especially for her. Sometimes Jenna would drop by the work yard and they’d put on a show for the guys. Heather driving the company’s biggest bulldozer like the mad-skillz wheelman she was, Jen barefoot in the long flowing dresses she loved and designed herself (because nobody kept things in her unique … body type … in stock).

They were good fights too. Heather gave as good as she got from the bucket seat of the big machine and one time Jen’s dress had outright burst off of her heaving top as she wrestled with her friend by megadozer-proxy. The internet had just about melted when the footage of THAT went viral. The guy filming her with his phone thought Jenna was gonna kill him, but she’d just plucked up her clothes with one hand, blew him and what would be her audience at home a kiss with the other, and flew away into the sun, laughing. Sales of her clothing lines skyrocketed. Best add campaign ever. And they hadn’t even staged it. Genuine wardrobe malfunction for the win!

Heather still fantasized about wrestling with her friend without the hardware, and they did sometimes get into tickle fights that would have caught the internet on fire if anyone knew. Bullets might bounce off of Jen, but she was still soft and bouncy (very bouncy) and just so ticklish right at one little spot on her lower back …

Heather blushed and Doctor Kane called from his station “You ok there Sawyer? Your heart rate spiked a little.”

“I’m great here, Doc. Lets get this done and go home. You owe me a steak when we get back to Earth.”

“A gentleman always pays his debts, Madame. Or do you want to go double or nothing?”

“You know me, Doc. I quit when I’m ahead.” They’d gotten into a number of playful bets, the stakes escalating up to the afore mentioned steak diner. The handsome young doctor’s family had a ranch and he’d bragged she’d never had a real steak in her life until she tried one with his family brand. They’d laughed. He seemed genuinely into her. Which was a rare treat given her rather overwhelmingly hot BFF quite unintentionally boob-blocking her all the time … That and the cascading list of supervillains that seemed compelled to fuck with her Friday nights. She’d had to learn judo too. She couldn’t just let Jenna rescue her all the time!

Suited up, she rechecked her oxygen, her thruster gas pressure, and most of all her bombs. For the benefits of the teams on the ground she called out, “This is Specialist Sawyer. All indicators green. I am exiting the craft for EVA.”

She emerged from the shuttle’s smaller airlock, marveling at the Earth shining above her. This was turning out to be the best day ever. She Jetted toward the Rogue in short, controlled puffs. In the reflect light of the sun it looked reddish. Likely iron oxides …

“Closing with the Rogue now. It matches our radar scans and photos. Rocky object. About the size of my car, really. I see several promising fractures. Our friend here has taken some hard hits in the past.” It was small compared to the size of the satellites it had wrecked, but solid stone, instead of a filmy array of solar panels and antennas. It was a monster compared to her tiny form.

As she got closer she saw that what she’d mistaken for rust was actually a red halo around the Rogue. A sort of glow … Like … Like she had seen all those years ago … Only darker. Richer. They hadn’t spotted that from telescopes on the ground! It was almost like it was warming up with her approach. Welcoming her. Calling her …

“We’re getting some rising Tau radiation off the object. Maybe we should abort? Your call, Sawyer.”

Heather licked her lips. Could it really be? People had measured trace amounts of Tau radiation when Sky Girl flew …

“Not a chance. I’ve got this!” her enthusiasm slipping past her poker face. ‘oh, I have so got this …’

The meteorite she and Jenny had found, the one that had created Sky Girl (now Sky Woman as they had both grown up) had been about the size of a bowling ball after its fiery plunge to Earth. It was, she realized nothing more than a fleck, likely chipped off this very mass by some unimaginable impact decades, maybe centuries, ago. It had reached Erht first but now the source had finally found its way to Earth and settled into orbit. Far above all the hands that would have greedily reached out for it if they had known. Except only Heather and Jenna knew what to look for.


Heather struggled to control here breathing, knowing that there were eyes watching her every move. The Rogue was as big as her car. This … this was the motherload. Heather Sawyer, demolitionist, astronaut, and Sky Woman’s besty had waited years for something like this and she wasn’t going to share it with anyone.

Biting her bottom lip she drifted closer. She didn’t dare speak. Somebody unimportant back on the ship cautioned her about her speed, but she knew, absolutely knew, that wouldn’t matter once she touched it.

Kane called out, “Sawyer, check you suit! Did you get hung on the rock?! We show your suit pressure dropping.” He was already gearing up to go out after her.

‘Pressure drop? Not surprising …’ she thought. As she came down to the last few inches she’d pulled one of her gloves off, her skin turning blood red as hard vacuum burst the veins on the surface. The ultimate space-hicky would be totally worth it if … if … if her skin activated the boulder seething with power floating before her. Here it was just waiting to take and be taken. She touched it …

It wasn’t a scream. Just a tiny whisper over the comms: “Fuck me, yesss …”

“Say again Sawyer? You we garbled.” The pilot announced, covering for her considering he’d heard her quite clearly even if Mission Control probably hadn’t in the static the Rogue was throwing off.

"Tau radiation is spiking! Heather, get out of there!"

Folks on the ground were getting concerned.

“Mission Control, she’s made contact and matched speed. the Rogue’s spin is carrying her out of sight. Still trying to ascertain why she’s not responding. Maybe a crumpled antenna. She came in a little hot (if only they knew …).

As Heather had hoped – fantasized for years about finding a second stone, really – the glow surrounding the mass of stone flowed from the cold rock into her warm and welcoming body. Flowed until she filled to bursting, a vibrating quiver running through her. Already she could feel it insider her, making her better, and better, and bet …bigger? ‘That’s not what happened to Jen!’ she thought with a moment of alarm. She realized that not only was her bust swelling as she’d prayed and wished for a thousand times, her whole body was getting longer and sleeker. Her suit would rip at any moment! She wasn’t worried about vacuum - that had never bothered Jen after all. But if she lost the air out of her helmet she’d have to use sign language to communicate with the crew on the shuttle instead of the radio. ‘And right now my “body language” would probably give them all a stroke’ she thought to herself with a grin. She quickly tore a strip of metal off her EVA pack and wound it around her neck, almost like an old-timed choker, minus the cameo. It was maybe the last lucid thing she did as another wave of ruby light peeled off the meteoroid and forced itself inside her. She continued to change and grow …

“We’ve lost visual contact with Sawyer, Mission Control. The rotation of the Rogue has taken her around the far side. She should swing back into view about 90 seconds. We’re all suiting up in case we need to open the main doors to get her back inside. You hear that Sawyer? Heather? Kane’s coming to get you. Just hang on!”

Heather wasn’t listing to anything but the thunderous beating of her own, super-powerful heart. Heather felt like an ice-chest had been dumped over her, her whole body drenched in the ruby glow.

Kane practically shot out of the side of the ship. He tried to balance his concern for her with the dangers of the situation. As he gave the regular reports that should have come from any of the crew outside the ship a part of him chided himself ‘you’re not a couple, Derek. Just hold your horses. She’s one of the best. She’s probably fine …’

The Rogue continued its slow turn and then Kane saw her rising over it’s right side … “I think I see her now!” he saw a pale ‘X’ swinging into view, like she was spread eagled with the rock at her back … Wait … Where was her suit?!?

“Does she look ok?”

Kane had fallen silent too. Was she ok? Now that he could see her, naked under the stars except for her helmet she was, she was, she was, she was, she was, she … she … she … she … she …

Kane’s brain had hung in a loop.

… she was EVERYTHING.

Words failed to describe what Kane was seeing. In fact, just trying could hurt your brain. Lets try a comparison:

Years ago a tiny little spit ball of a meteorite had given up its charge to Jenna. In its embrace, Jen had become one of the world’s most beautiful women, but not necessarily its most beautiful. Tastes vary, after all. She was sexy almost as a byproduct of her exaggerated attractiveness. The perfect PG-13 version of a supergirl’s sexual charms.

Heather couldn’t have kept it down to an ‘R-rating’ wearing a nun’s black sack. She was pure, distilled XXX. The glow had filled her and reshaped her and filled her larger again, becoming Earth’s most perfectly adapted sexual predator. An Amazonian force of nature promising the continuation of the species in one unending glorious FUCK. And fuck your ‘tastes’ too. If you had a Y chromosome, you wanted her (and if you had two Xs, you still wanted her). Ok, there was nothing on Earth with 46 chromosomes that wouldn’t have dropped everything to tap that ass.

And as a footnote to her glory where Jen had soft pink hair, lips, and nipples, Heather’s were a deep ruby red. She was just that much more intense in every way.

Coming to, Heather realized Jenna was right about space: Heather could feel the radiation around her, making her drowsy. But not the queasy kind Jenna felt. To the vastly more powerful Heather it was the lazy feeling when you woke up to find a great lover still in your bed the next morning. She needed something between her legs and the first candidate she spotted was the bluntly pointed nose of the ship, so cute from 300 yards away. Without knowing how, she flew.

“Icarus! Icarus please respond. We’ve lost cameras and ground telescopes say there was a red flash!”

“We’re still here Mission Control. Little bit of a situation developing. Let me get back to you …” It was to be the last transmission from Icarus.

A goddess humping you nosecone until it shattered in a million pieces was ‘a situation’ right? Then the long range antenna was gone. She still had her helmet on, so the pilot called out over the local channel. “Heather, please! You’re going to kill us!”

“Oh, quite whining. You’ve got plenty of air in those tanks over there …” she waved to a couple of spherical capsules she’d deliberately broken free with her toes. Its not like she was new at blowing stuff up. “I’ll fly us all down when I’m done. The new body needs a little ‘shakedown cruise’. You may have noticed … I've experienced … Some swelling …” She laced her fingers behind her helmet and thrust her chest out towards the cockpit in spectacular 3D (technically in DDDDDDDDDD but she hadn't stopped to measure yet, and figuring out her cup size would be Jenna's problem anyway …). All complaints ceased. "Now get out and enjoy the show … but don’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.”

With just one look at her deep ruby red eyes, each member of the rest of the six man crew wisely shut up and waited for her to finish, climbing out the airlock to huddle by the air tanks she'd extracted. Kane with his pack on darted around her making encouraging gestures and thumbs up. He was a lunatic, but she found it really did add spice.

It was quite a show as she reached down one hand in front of her, one behind her back and with short clawing motions pulled the entire ship across the long-bladed scissors that were her widely spread legs, creating a growing cloud of half melted fragments spinning past her breasts and ass. She even mixed the bombs still in her zero-g satchel into the river of shredding metal flowing over her crotch. Now that should tingle!

“Oh, Jenny! I bet you never did that!” she squealed when they detonated against her loins. Make no mistake, Jen was strong. Jen was strong enough to throw busses around one handed and had even held up an entire collapsing skyscraper one time. But now Heather was on a whole other level. Ten times stronger? No. Ten times stronger than that? Still no – did you actually see the size of the rock Heather had sucked dry? Try again. Ten times stronger than THAT!?! Now you’re talking.

Having run out of ship to break against the unbreakable, she turned on the Rogue. Could it be a match for her magnificent hard-body? Studying it, she pushed a huge breast that was still soft and pliable as a pillow into one of the larger fissures, the scarred stone nothing but a caress now. Then she flexed her pectoral and the irresistible wedge of her softest flesh cracked the ancient stone in two as neatly as one of her most powerful bombs. She busted the halves between her thighs, pulverized the resulting hunks between her breasts, and then chased down the smaller stones, using only her toes to render them into dust. Nobody but her was ever going to find so much as a single glowing speck of the Rogue. Mission accomplished on that front. It was what she was there for after all!

She cooled down from her exertions with a quick bath, soaking in the molten metal that used to be the engine before her thighs had crushed it into a cherry red pool. So relaxing. You should try it sometime, if, you know, you get super-powers too.

She wondered if Jen ever had ever tried this. ‘maybe not … her skin’s so soft …’

Ooo. There’s a though. Jenna …

That brought her back to the moment. “It’s been fun boys. Really. You’ve been a great audience, but its time to go home. I’ve gotta make a date …”

She tore some strips off a spare spacesuit and crafted herself what looked like a white bikini top and sarong. Modesty, after all (though the telescopes on the ground tracing the Icarus’s plight had gotten quite an eyeful). Not even Jenna’s dresses would fit her now, but Jen would have a great time coming up with something that would. Something sexy!

To their credit, nobody screamed during the ride down. She dropped them off neat as could be at the end of the runway in California. A full day ahead of schedule and down a shuttle of course (she’d have to make that up to NASA some how. She had ideas …) Rescue vehicles were already on their way to pick everybody up, lights flashing.

She turned to her betting partner, brave knight, would-be rescuer, and sexual cheerleader. Running one finger down his suit, she ripped the space-age material off Kane’s deliciously hunky chest. He was almost exactly eye level with her mountainous tits. Like the gentleman he was, he still managed to look up at her face. Mostly.

“I’m gonna skip the debriefing boys. I’m sure you can fill them in. But you still owe me a steak, Kane. I’ll be back to collect.”

“Roger that, Sawyer.” He answered with a satisfied smirk. “Best steaks you’ve ever had. There might even be candlelight.”

“Ooo, you are a bold one. I liiiiike that.” She said with a wicked trill, nearly causing poor Kane to cream himself. Before she could get any more caught up in the banter (and the rocking sex she fully expected to follow) she launched back into the air. Because there was one little bit of love-play she’d dreamed of for years … and she wasn’t about to be denied now! She needed to find Jen so they could wrestle. Really wrastle. Without the bulldozer this time. And with Jen the one a thousand times weaker, completely at the mercy of her friend’s fingers and tongue … Turn about being the fairest of play.

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