Written by Dumano1r :: [Saturday, 16 May 2020 18:16] Last updated by :: [Saturday, 16 May 2020 20:41]
Joe was sitting at home in his comfortable old armchair with his old dog curled up at his feet when the phone rang. He reached out and took it from the battered old side table, answered it quickly and politely, took note of the message and put the phone back down. He stood up and stretched his stiff arms and back. “I've got to go up and check the Lake House is ready,” he called to his wife. “I'll be back for supper.” He walked to the back door. “Come on, Shep,” he called to his dog, who stood and lazily stretched out his long paws, before padding after his owner.
Joe climbed into his polished pick-up and Shep jumped up beside him on the bench seat, slumping with his head in Joe's lap. Joe ruffled his head with one had as he turned the key with the other. They drove the short distance to the Lake House in comfortable silence, Shep snuffling sleepily in brief, jowl trembling bursts.
Joe turned onto the driveway, following it through the tunnel of trees until the view of the lake and the house opened out in front of him. He parked in front of the building and got out, leaving Shep snoozing on the seat.
Joe was caretaker for several houses scattered around the lake, but The Lake House was the largest, which is how it had gotten its name. It wasn't a huge place, just a large two-storey log fronted cabin, with a generous plot of land and a short stretch of lakeside beach dominated by a short wooden pier. Like most of the cabins that fringed the lake shore it was owned by out-of-towners, in this case a lesbian couple that worked in the city. Joe wasn't bothered by their life-style choices, they paid to have the house kept up, and that was really all that mattered. Some of the owners liked to rent the cabins out for extra income, but this couple kept it for themselves, which was fine as well. They came out to the Lake House a few times every year, at different times of year and for different lengths of time. Rich folks had their own strange ways and Joe knew better than to question them.
He went into the house through the back door. The house was cleaned every two weeks by a local cleaning lady who did most of the houses around the lake, though in truth “dusting and polishing” would be a better term than cleaning. As ever, it was immaculate.
He went down into the basement and lit the boiler, then stood for a moment listening to the pipes popping and banging as the system came to life. After a moment the noise subsided and Joe nodded to himself contentedly. He walked around the rest of the house, checking the rooms for anything out of place, but everything was as it should be. As ever, he gave a little wave to one of the numerous little security cameras installed around the building. He checked that the gun cabinet in the basement was securely locked, then went out onto the roof terrace to look out over the lake. Everything was in order, as he knew it would be.
He returned to his truck and took a box from the back, carrying it into the house and putting it down on the granite kitchen counter. He opened the box, took out a small collection of groceries and put them away in the cupboards and the refrigerator, before taking the empty box back to the truck. Shep raised his head and twitched his ear thoughtfully, a few moments before Joe heard a car on the drive.
An old blue Ford Mondeo rolled up and parked next to Joe. It wasn't the car the couple usually drove, but Joe was used to them turning up in all sorts of vehicles. They may have been rich city folks, but cars certainly weren't where they spent their money.
The brunette he recognised as Martha got out of the driver's side. “Hi Joe, everything ready?” she asked with a smile.
“Sure is, ma'am. There's fresh milk and a bottle of wine chilling in the fridge as always.”
“Great, thanks Joe.”
The passenger door opened and the blonde got out. Only this wasn't the same blonde Joe was used to.
She was stunning. Simply stunning. Glistening hair cascaded in a golden torrent around a flawless face that was dominated by cherry red lips and piercing green eyes. The radiant hair drew the eyes downwards, down to slender shoulders and toned, athletic arms, down to the largest bust he had ever seen on such a slender woman. Colossal orbs of firm, pert flesh were straining a blouse that was clearly struggling to contain them, pulling the fabric upwards to reveal the chiselled definition of her narrow waist. As she sensually moved around the car to join her partner, Joe's eyes were drawn to her shapely hips, firm ass, and long, graceful legs. Joe suddenly realised his jaw had dropped open.
Martha slipped her arm around the blonde's waist and smiled at Joe. “I thought it was time to upgrade,” she said with a smile, before turning to give the blonde a passionate kiss that lasted long enough that Joe began to feel quite uncomfortable. The blonde giggled playfully, and Martha grinned smugly at Joe. “This is Catherine, my new partner.”
“Hi,” Catherine said, holding out a dainty hand. Joe shook it and was surprised by the incredible firmness of her grip.
“Anyway, Joe, thanks for getting everything ready. We'll call you if we need you,” said Martha.
Joe nodded and got back into his truck. Shep raised his head and looked at the fabulous Catherine with canine disinterest.
Joe drove home with the fabulous blonde firmly in his thoughts. Rich folks, he thought wistfully to himself.
Cassandra stood beside her superbike, watching a steady stream of traffic going past. She was bored, waiting for an update from the police, again frustrated by her own powerlessness.
The blue Mondeo had vanished not long after it left the motel, which almost certainly meant they'd changed the plates, doubtless at a rest stop like the one where Cassandra waited for news. She wondered if she was lounging against her bike in exactly the same spot where her prey had stopped to make the .
Her radio bleeped. “We've checked the northbound and southbound traffic cameras on the interstate, Cassandra. We've checked every Mondeo we see and there are none which could be them. They've either switched cars or gone off the interstate.”
Cassandra thought about this for a moment. She hadn't seen anywhere between the motel and the rest stop where they could have picked up another car, unless someone had met them, and that didn't make sense. If that were the case then the Mondeo would have reappeared, just with a different driver. “They've gone off the interstate. Start checking any cameras or reports you have on the side roads.”
“What are you going to do?”
Cassandra thought about this. Waiting was annoying, especially for someone with superhuman levels of impatience, but a wrong move could take her hundreds of miles further away from her target. She sighed. “I'm going to wait here for now. Just make sure you update me as soon as you get anything.”
The radio went dead. Cassandra leant her fabulous body against her bike once more, pushing out her magnificent chest, determined to at least enjoy the lustful glances of the passing drivers whilst she waited for an update.
Claire and Alice didn't waste any time at the Lake House. The moment Joe's car was out of sight they hurried indoors, rushing up to the bedroom where they quickly stripped naked and made love with a determination and vigour borne of the knowledge that every time could be their last.
With their love-making complete they lay together, wrapped up in tender intimacy. “We should make sure everything is ready,” Alice said drowsily.
Claire sighed. “Couldn't we stay like this for a bit longer?”
“I don't know. Forever, maybe?”
Alice laughed. “Come on, we should get prepared.” Alice slipped out of Claire's grasp and out of bed, searching around the discarded clothes on the floor for her bra and panties. Claire sighed, propping herself up on her elbows so that she could better watch her lover's naked form. “You're very hot, you know?”
Alice laughed. “Coming from you now, that is a massive complement!”
Claire giggled, slipping out from under the sheets to stand before the full length mirror where she could admire her now orgasmic figure. “Is it wrong that I can't stop looking at myself?”
“I wouldn't feel bad, I can't stop looking at you either.” Alice stepped over to stand behind Claire, her breasts pressed against Claire's slender back. She reached around Claire to cup her left breast with both hands, whilst her lips kissed Claire's slender neck. “You feel incredible,” Alice whispered.
Claire turned her head to kiss Alice with passionate delight, reaching her hands behind her to pull Alice's hips against her firm cheeks. “Shall we stay here a bit longer?”
Alice grimaced, but didn't pull away. “We should get ready. There will be more time for this later.”
Claire sighed, “I hope so.” They stood there for a moment longer, contentedly entwined, until Alice slipped free and went back to her search amongst the discarded clothes on the floor. Claire ran a powerful hand around the areola of her left nipple, enjoying the lingering memory of Alice's touch, before going over to the wardrobe to get out a sports top and jogging bottoms. She dressed quickly, realising that the joggers were very tight around her magnificent hips and ass, whilst the top was stretched to the point of torture by her colossal mammaries. She arched her back and the fabric ripped across her chest, the lycra ripping down the centre to reveal her cavernous cleavage. Aroused by her own power, her nipples hardened, rising hard against the fabric and tearing it further and further apart until it finally split and fell into two useless halves. Claire laughed, and Alice, who had been watching quietly, giggled. “Could I borrow one of your tops?” Claire asked.
Once they were dressed, they went out onto the roof terrace and looked out over the lake. The sun was still high in the sky, the shadows short upon the leafy ground. The lake was still and shone like a mirror in the bright sunlight. The trees that fringed the lake were motionless in the still air, and the other houses that edged the water were hidden from view so that the privacy was absolute.
Claire had bought the house with cash left over from her assassination of a hero called Overload. It had been a particularly lucrative hit.
As a couple they had talked about what would happen if ever somebody managed to track Claire down, and had reached the conclusion that they needed a safe house. They had looked for somewhere reasonably close, in a quiet community, where nobody would ask too many questions. They had found the town of Pine Lake after a brief search. It was an isolated town set amongst deep woodland on a road that followed the state line. The town had once been a mining town, but the closure of the mine had left the settlement reliant on the water for tourism. The lake was large, deep and sprawling, with several arms leading to secluded bays where the locals had built a number of up-market chalets and cabins for visitors to enjoy the tranquillity.
Once they had bought the house they ensured that they visited a few times a year, varying the timing and durations of their stays so that their comings and goings became unremarkable. They put out a rumour that they were wealthy investment bankers from New York, wealthy enough that they never even needed to consider renting out their second home to anyone else. Whenever they visited they would go into town and spend freely, encouraging the locals to keep them updated on any developments within the community, whilst keeping them away from the Lake House itself. It was a good arrangement, which would keep them alerted to any unexpected arrivals in the area.
“I should go into town and put the word around that we're here,” said Alice. “If Cassandra does show up in town we'll want to know about it early.”
“Shall I come?” Claire asked.
“No. You'd better wait here. You're too conspicuous at the moment.”
Claire pouted sulkily. “Can't I show off just a little bit?”
Alice looked cross. “No. We talked about this. You need to be careful, and I mean that. We can't have a repeat of what happened at the motel.” Claire smiled to herself at the memory of lifting the huge truck with one hand. Alice frowned. “I mean it, Claire. The easiest way we'll get found is if you start showing off.”
Claire sighed. “Fine. So what should I do?”
“Check the weapons, and then start working on your powers. You need to know what you can do before Cassandra finds us.”
The call finally came through to Cassandra after an hour of watching traffic and nearly causing several pile-ups after she had pulled her cat suit down to get an even suntan over her fantastic breasts.
The assassin and her partner had been spotted on a traffic camera in a small town to the West of the interstate. As Cassandra had suspected, they'd changed the number-plates on their car. With this information the police had been able to follow their progress Northwards towards the border, until the trail went cold on the edge of a huge expanse of forest and uncultivated land. It seemed possible that they had changed the plates again, but even if they hadn't there was a lack of traffic cameras in the woods. The local sheriff had been warned to be on the lookout, but nobody was optimistic for much in the way of results from that quarter.
Cassandra slipped her chest back into her catsuit and mounted her bike, starting the engine and feeling its powerful throb against her inner thighs. She smiled to herself at the delightful sensation as she opened the Satnav on the steering column. She zoomed in upon the huge expanse of forest that formed a great screen near the border. It was criss-crossed with small roads, lakes and minor settlements. In other words, it was an ideal hiding place.
“Can we arrange to have the major roads through the forest monitored? I'm going to start checking out the towns. Somebody will have noticed them.” She grinned to herself, running her hands over the brass knuckles and their kryptonite coating. She could feel that she was getting close.
Once Alice had left, Claire went down to the basement to check the gun cabinet.
She never kept guns at their home. Every gun she had ever used was purchased quietly with cash before the job, then discarded immediately afterwards. The gun she had used on Ultraman was somewhere deep in the Potomac, where it would likely never be found.
The Lake House was different. Here the guns were not for use, except in an emergency, and so a range of guns were in the cabinet and she and Alice both practised with them whenever they visited. They had several pistols, a sub-machine gun, a shotgun, an assault rifle and two sniper rifles. There was also a wide range of ammunition, including special ammunition. Kryptonite coated bullets were in a plastic jar, which Claire carefully lifted and put on a shelf on the far side of the basement. Even the presence of the material made her feel queasy.
She went back to the cabinet. There were various potions, poisons, materials and artefacts that would help against the full spectrum of known superhuman weaknesses. Everything in the cabinet had a very specific purpose, a purpose which was inevitably fatal.
High Velorians had a weakness for obsidian. Vocanic glass. It was an unusual weakness, one that Claire did not fully understand, but it was a useful weakness. Obsidian did not weaken a Velorian, like Kryptonite did a Kryptonian, but it did cut through them like a hot knife through butter. The obsidian box, neatly labelled, was stored just beneath the sniper rifle. She took it out and opened it up. There were a few bullets and shotgun cases. And a knife.
She'd bought two obsidian knives when she had received a commission on a Velorian super human called Punisher. Punisher was a huge man, a typical example of a High Velorian muscle god, who was fiercely proud of his impossible physique. But Punisher was also into his own special brand of S and M. He enjoyed being chained up, beaten, whipped, kicked and burnt, all so that he could demonstrate his incredible resilience and strength by absorbing the beatings and then snapping the chains like wet tissue paper before taking his turn to dominate his sexual partners. Claire had met him in a bar and invited him back to a rented apartment, where she had changed into a black leather dominatrix outfit, complete with chains and tassles, before chaining him blind-folded to a bed. He had eagerly lain there, unseeing, awaiting the chance to overpower her with his phenomenal strength. She had whipped him with a bullwhip, put a cigarette out on his pecs , and then she cut his throat with an obsidian knife.
His body was found two weeks later by a cleaner.
That knife was gone now, tossed into the Potomac like so many of the weapons she had used over the years.
She took the knife from the cabinet, tracing its edge along her thumb. She could tell how sharp it was by the feel of the blade against the ridges of her skin, though it didn't even scratch her. She was tempted to push harder, but she decided that she didn't want to blunt the blade that she was going to need. She slid the knife into a sheath and clipped it to her waistband.
She went out onto the lawn, looking out over the still waters of the lake. It was a beautiful day, and the stillness of the surface reflected the tree-lined fringes with mirror-like clarity. Claire smiled to herself, stretching her slender arms. It was time to test out her new powers and find out what she could do.
For as long as they'd owned the Lake House there had been an ugly old willow tree, half-dead and covered in ivy, that had ruined the view to the flank of their property. They had wanted to cut it down for years, but it grew on land belonging to a miserly old man, who insisted they could only chop it down if they paid him for it. Claire strolled over towards the tree, placing her delicate hands on her abundant hips as she stood before it and took a deep breath. They might not be able to cut the tree down, but what if the “wind” uprooted it?
She pursed her ruby lips and began to blow, gently at first, but with increasing power as the branches of the tree first began to shake and then to stream away. As she blew harder the trunk began to sway and then to bend, gently at first, but gradually more sharply until with a sudden crunch the roots began to tear themselves free of the soil, rising like a mass of writhing snakes as the old tree lost its battle and fell to the ground with a massive crash. Claire giggled. It had been like blowing out the candles on a cake.
She strolled contentedly down to the waters edge, her hips swaying seductively without her even realising that she was doing it. She stood at the edge of the water, admiring her reflection looking back at her from the glistening surface. Slowly, sensually, she removed her top, loving the way that her reflection mirrored her movements and the way her gorgeous breasts barely moved as they were freed of their constraint. She slipped out of her pants and gazed out across the lake, wondering how far away the furthest reaches of the water were. She took a deep breath, and in a perfectly graceful swallow dive, leapt into the water, barely rippling the surface as she plunged into the depths.
Ryan was having a pleasant day, drowsing in the sunshine, fishing rod in one hand, a substantial (but now largely empty) bottle of scotch in the other. The small jetty, alone in its quiet promontory of the lake, was his safe place. A peaceful spot where he could escape from a nagging wife and belligerent children. He took a sip from the scotch and wondered if the bait was still on the hook. Not that it mattered, catching fish was entirely incidental to his afternoon of fishing.
There was a gentle splash as something broke the surface of the water. Ryan glanced over towards the noise and was astonished to see an absolutely stunning woman emerge from the water. His jaw dropped open as she rose like a glistening nymph from the shining water.
She looked incredible, her brilliant mane of blonde hair was plastered in a glorious frame around her stunning visage. Droplets of water were running down her swanlike neck to trickle down into a deep and magnificent cleavage, a cavernous valley between two colossal mountain peaks. He continued to trace the path of the fortunate water as it trickled over firmly defined abs and through a tight mound of golden hair, before trickling down long and sensuous legs to drop back into the uncaring lake.
The incredible woman looked at him and smiled a smile as beautiful as the day itself. “Hey there.”
“Er… hi,” he managed to stutter.
“You haven't seen me, okay?” she winked playfully.
“Er… sure,” he said.
“Thanks a million,” she raised a hand to her full lips and blew him a kiss. He felt the seductive breeze hit him with a faint scent of roses. He was glad that he was sitting down as his knees went weak and the blood flowed from his body and into his member.
Graceful as a dolphin, she turned and dived back into the water, disappearing in a ring of concentric circles that lapped gently against the pier where Ryan sat. He lifted the scotch to his lips and took a deep swig. “Don't tell anyone,” he chuckled. “Who'd believe me anyway?”
Claire arrived back at the Lake House seconds later, Having swum the entire length of the lake deep beneath the surface of the water. Her muscles barely felt stimulated, let alone challenged. She walked back up the lawn, enjoying the feeling of the cool water running over the incredible figure.
I can fly through water, she thought to herself, time to see if I can fly through the air…
She crouched on the lawn, preparing herself for a high jump from a position where the power of her mighty thighs could give her the most lift. She'd seen superheroes fly often enough, but she didn't know how they did it, and she had normally disposed of them before she had had a chance to ask them.
She pushed off with all the might in her incredible legs, soaring into the air way above the roof of the Lake House and the towering conifer trees that surrounded the lake. For a moment she thought that she was flying, but as gravity caught up with her ascent she felt herself slowing, until for a brief moment she hung still in the air. Then she started to fall.
She tumbled clumsily downward, arms flailing, her body turning over as the weight of her head and breasts pulled her torso forward. She hit the ground with an awkward thud seconds later.
For a few seconds she lay still, wondering at the softness of the ground enveloping her, then she pushed herself up and climbed out of the crater that she had left on the lawn. “Fuck,” she muttered to herself. She dusted some of the soil, grass and rock from her skin, before leaping in a huge arc back into the lake where she cleaned herself off properly.
She emerged from the water glistening once more. She strode over to the crater in the ground and smiled at the shape of the impact damage, almost like a cartoon cut-out of herself in the ground, dominated by the two huge dents made by her breasts. She chuckled to herself, “Well, Claire, your flying leaves something to be desired, but you sure make a shapely crater.”
She decided against trying to fly again for a moment. Ultraman had had other powers that she needed to explore. She guessed that if she could do everything else that he could do then she would be able to fly, it would just become a case of working out how.
She went back to the house, going down into the basement once more. There were various gardening tools arrayed on a neat rack on the wall. She took a garden fork down, and held it so that the tip of one of the prongs was against the flawless skin of her belly. She began to push, gently at first, but increasingly firmly until the prong began to bend harmlessly against her flesh. She laughed, held the fork out at arms length, and then, with all her might, drove the remaining prongs hard into the soft skin of her tits. There was a clang as two of the prongs snapped and a squeal as the third prong bent harmlessly out of shape. Her breasts had barely moved.
“Pretty invulnerable,” she said happily. She went to the gun cabinet and took out a pistol, checked the magazine and then took aim at her left hand. She pulled the trigger and watched the bullet exit the gun in a slow moving spray of muzzle flash, travelling slowly through the air into her outstretched palm. The lead slug hit the fleshy part of her hand and she watched it slowly deform itself uselessly against her skin. She closed her fingers, catching the bullet easily. She could feel the warm lead, soft between her fingers. She drew back her arm and tossed the flattened bullet at the wall, where it punched out a large hole in a shower of dust and cement.
She put the gun away, satisfied at her invulnerability, then went back upstairs. It was time to try heat vision.
She found a pan in the kitchen and filled it with water before putting it on the hob. Then she stepped back from it, placed her hands on her hips, and began to concentrate. Now, how was this supposed to work?
She looked hard at the pan. Her eyesight had reached an amazing clarity. As she concentrated she realised that she could see the pan in microscopic detail, the smooth metal sides suddenly becoming a deeply pitted surface, marred with scrapes and foreign particles so tiny that they would have been invisible beneath even a magnifying glass. And as she focussed in upon such incredible detail she realised that she could begin to move the particles. Only a tiny amount at first, but more as her skill improved, so that slowly friction began to build up in the surface and gradually heat began to build. The more she worked, the more she realised that her focus was tightening on a single tiny patch of metal, concentrating so hard that suddenly a beam of red light erupted from her eyes and the pan began to boil and bubble furiously, until in moments it had boiled dry and the metal itself began to melt. In a few seconds all that remained of the pan and its contents was a silver puddle dripping down the front of the hob.
“Awesome,” she muttered.
It was time to try flight again. She went back outside, past the Claire-shaped crater in the lawn and down to the edge of the lake. She wasn't worried about hurting herself when she landed, but she didn't want to ruin the lawn that old Joe had so carefully maintained.
She looked up the sky. How could she do this? There had to be a way.
She decided against jumping quite so high. Height would be irrelevant if she could get the hang of flying. With a careful spring she leapt into the air, propelling herself only as high as the tops of the trees. She concentrated, imagining herself defying gravity, pushing herself into the sky. She shut her eyes and stretched out her arms, imagining herself soaring through the clouds, higher than an aeroplane, faster than sound.
There was a splash as she hit the water.
“Fuck,” she muttered as she rose back to the surface.
Claire waded ashore irritably, no longer enjoying the cold feeling of the water, lost in her frustration. Heat vision, strength and invulnerability were great, but the only real skill that would give her an edge in the coming fight would be the ability to fly, and she was running out of time to learn how to do it.
Because Cassandra was getting closer.