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Happy Birthday, Week 1

Written by Totally Kyle :: [Saturday, 06 March 2021 21:46] Last updated by :: [Friday, 16 April 2021 14:49]

Editor's Note: this story contains NSFW pictures!


My name is Carly Balmor, and I'm starting this journal because of a really strange thing that's going on that I want to document. It's my eighteenth birthday and I just woke up with superhuman strength, I think. It's super weird, but the day started with me getting myself a glass of water. Well, after doing my usual morning routine of showering, makeup, etc. But I got a glass of water, when the glass suddenly broke in my hand. Just... while I was drinking, the cup cracked into, like, ten pieces and fell to the floor. When my mom saw the broken glass and spilt water on the floor, she asked me if I dropped it. I told her that I did, because I still wasn't entirely sure of what was going on. Anyways, things really started to fall into place when Kevin started harassing me at school again today.

Oh yeah, I'm not sure what kind of people might be reading this in the future. But it might be relevant for you to know that I am widely regarded to be the hottest girl in school. That might sound vain, but I'm literally the only girl in the school's history who was crowned prom queen in her freshman year. And then I also won the crown for the subsequent two years, as well. The point is that I'm attractive and popular. I have long blond hair, blue eyes, some awesome tattoos down on the left side of my body, e-cup breasts that all the girls envy, a round but that all the boys want, a slim waist in between those two parts, etc etc.

Emma Mae no Watermark

So anyways, Kevin was hitting on me again. Long story short, I'm not interested in Kevin because he's kinda a narcissistic douchebag who is also terrible in bed. He's cute as hell but has no other redeeming qualities. His daily harassment usually begins with him hitting on me and it usually ends with me trying to physically push him away to no avail (he's the captain of the football team, about 16 cm taller than me and with the body of a trained athlete) until a slew of other guys show up and shoo him away after I repeatedly express my disinterest. But today, more than half of them also had birthday gifts for me, either because they wanted to get into my pants for the first time or they wanted to get into my pants for a second time. Usually, it's the ladder group that's more obsessed with winning me over. But either way, they usually make Kevin go away eventually. Thank god for small favors.

But this time... when I pushed him away, he got launched into the metal lockers on the other side of the hall. I swear that he even went airborne for a second! And it looked like it hurt, too. He was trying to hide it, but I could see the subtle details of pain underneath his facade of being a tough guy. Which is also odd, because I don't normally pick up on details like that. Anyways, he walked away embarrassed from being thrashed by a girl who has absolutely no history in athletics or strength training, and then the day went on like usual.

That is, until gym class.

We were in the weight room today, tracking our progress like usual, and... I'm almost four times stronger than I was yesterday. Mr. Wattsen thought that I must have been faking my strength level during the previous days and decided that I should re-evaluate my estimates in order to give myself a better workout. I'm honestly not sure what I'm going to do. I think that starting tomorrow, I might pretend that I'm just as average as I was yesterday in order to avoid suspicion.

Oh, and one more thing I did... I asked my most recent ex (I have plenty of them) to let me try something with him. He agreed (I never find it hard to get what I want out of guys) so I tried to see if I could lift him up into the air. And as it turns out, I could. With one hand.

I just grabbed his shirt and lifted. I could feel his weight a little bit, and I probably couldn't have kept it up for more than a few minutes, but it wasn't that hard to hold him up above the floor. I couldn't believe it. And neither could he.

Now that I'm at home and writing down the events of the day... I'm actually getting really excited. It was scary and weird at first, but if I'm really 2-3 times as strong as the strongest men in my grade, well... I shouldn't have any problems defending myself anymore. I'll try to downplay my sudden burst of strength. But I'm excited to experiment more with it.


So, I just did a WHOLE lot of math before writing this entry, and I discovered something very troubling: Men are almost exactly twice as strong as women. Really, it’s true. If you measure people based on their body weight, a 60kg man can, on average, bench and curl almost exactly twice as much as a 60kg woman. I already knew that men were stronger, but that’s ridiculous!

Anyways, I did all of this research before I started writing this because I have quite a bit of data today. I decided to start measuring my strength and my speed to see if I really am getting stronger. Of course, I didn’t test my strength in class. I waited until after school was over when the fitness room was empty. It was still unlocked, and anybody could have walked in at any time, but luckily that only happened once, and it wasn’t in the middle of my exercises. I was also double-lucky that it was a gay guy. His name is David. Chill dude. But yeah, if it was a straight guy, they definitely would have stuck around to watch my routine.

Anyways, I’m a little over twice as strong as I was yesterday. And yesterday, I was about four times stronger than I was the day before. I actually had to max out the bench press before I could feel any struggle: I had to put six 20kg plates on each side of the bar. I literally couldn’t fit any more on there than that. And… I was able to lift it. In fact, I was able to do my regular, routine workout. I did ten full reps at 240 kg, plus the 20kg bar. It’s official: I am now a little more than 8x stronger than an average girl my weight and 4x stronger than the average guy my weight. Not that there are a lot of guys my weight. I weigh 60kg which is kinda thin, but not too thin. I’m just right, and I’m not saying that because I’m vain or anything. If I collected data based on men’s reactions to me in the same scientific manner that I was now measuring my strength, I’d probably be able to conclude that I have the ideal weight and proportions for a woman based on my research. But I won’t lie, it was mildly disappointing to find out that my strength had only doubled since yesterday. But then again, if I add my strength rather than multiply it, then I basically gained the ability to lift another 120kg each day, more or less. It’s a completely lateral growth, so far.

So then, I also tried testing my speed on the track field. Again, when nobody else was around. I So, I did a basic 100 meter sprint, running as fast as I could. My time was 10 seconds.

The world record is 9.58 seconds.

So, I pushed myself even harder and, after two or three tries, eventually trimmed my time down to 9.73 seconds. I can still hardly believe what I’m typing, but it’s true. I really am becoming superhuman!

So then, I hopped the fence in order to get to my car easier. Because I didn’t want to walk the long way around, you know? And I climb fences all the time. I’ve had to make plenty of quick escapes in my life, either from doing some graffiti with my friends, or making a stealthy getaway before somebody could walk in on me having some private time with a guy out by the equipment shed, etc.

So anyways, fence hopping… Before I actually started climbing, I got the idea to test my jump to see if that had improved, as well. And, in fact, it did. I discovered that I could actually jump all the way over the 2.5 meter fence if I wanted to, and I’d be able to clear it by a good half meter, at that! So yeah, I literally jumped over the fence! And it didn’t feel any different than jumping over a puddle! Neither did, by the way, breaking a weightlifting record for my weight class and nearly beating the all-time world record for the sprint. Each thing I do, it takes just as much energy as it did back when I was only able to bench 31 kg and it took me, I dunno 39 seconds to do the 100-meter. But now… My body is just better!

Oh yeah, Kevin bothered me again today. But this time, he made the mistake of doing it when nobody else was around. Normally, that’d be the ideal place to harass me, but things have changed since I turned 18. He did that cheesy thing where he pounded his hand against the locker right next to my face as I walked. I told him to beat it. He wouldn’t budge, clearly upset over the humiliation that he suffered yesterday.

So then, I did the same experimental lift that I did with that one ex yesterday. I grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him up into the air. He started thrashing and panicking and generally asking “How the fuck are you doing this??” In fact, I think he said something to that effect three or four times before I threw him about six meters down the hall with a wave off my hand and kindly asked him to never bother me ever again. He briefly struggled to get to his feet, wincing in obvious pain, and then limped away with his tail between his legs.

I’m still giddy. Nobody can bother me anymore! I’m superhuman, and getting stronger every day! This year is going to be fucking GREAT!!


Today was fucking awesome! It started out with me running into Kevin in the halls, and he visibly avoided me. He wasn’t even able to look me in the eyes! And other people definitely saw that, too. Pretty soon, the rumors are going to start circulating about what wild and crazy thing I did to make him leave me alone. I’m already kinda the class idol. I have dozens of friends, every man wants me, and every girl wants to be me. But now… Well, people might start to realize that I’m something even greater than the image they already had for me.

I was in such a good mood that I decided to show off a little bit. We played dodgeball in gym class and we utterly wrecked the other team. Hell, I could have beaten the other team by myself if I wanted to. My throwing arm, now probably five or six times stronger than an average man, was throwing those balls far too fast for anybody to be able to dodge or catch them. Meanwhile, I caught every ball that was thrown at me, and even a few that were aiming for somebody else. Then we went to the fitness room, and all the strongest guys in the class took turns trying to outlift me. And it was easy… So easy!! Hell, the weights feel even lighter than they did yesterday! A few of them also took turns racing me, and you can probably guess how that turned out.

By the end of the day, everybody was talking about me. But they weren’t talking about the fact that I had changed. No, they were talking about how they suddenly realized that I’m more amazing than they already thought I was, and they just hadn't noticed it until now. I was already the hottest girl in the school (possibly the hottest girl in ALL of the schools, if I’m being honest) and I was already crazy popular. But after today, the attitude people were giving me felt almost like worship. The girls were nicer to me than usual. The guys stared at me more than usual (usually at my chest or my ass) and even some of the teachers seemed to go easier on me.

People have been telling me for years that I had this whole school wrapped around my finger. But now, I’m actually inclined to agree.

I was in such a good mood that I went home and rearranged the living room, then put it back to normal again, all with one hand behind my back the whole time. Admittedly I just wanted to see how easily I could lift all the furniture and carry it around. Having this much power is so intoxicating, I can’t even put it into words.

Still riding on the high of being greater than anybody on Earth could ever hope to be, I was feeling pretty horny. So I partook in one of my favorite past times: Casually shopping for a boy to satisfy my needs. Although, ‘shopping’ was the wrong word, because the boy actually pays me for the privilege, and I also get my itch scratched. It’s a win-win! But anyways, I just scroll through my contacts and decide on which guy I’m in the mood for. Then I call him up. Then, he arrives to pick me up in under twenty minutes or the fee is doubled (they’re never late) and then they bring me back to their place. However, there was one thing that was different about this night: The man I chose?

I fucked. Him. Unconscious.

If you think that your sex life is awesome, it’s because you have NEVER known the sheer thrill of getting on top of a man 9 cm taller and significantly more muscular than you and dominating him so hard that all he can do is gasp and pant for breath as you ride him. His bed frame was actually leaving some small cracks in the wall as I rocked it, because THAT’S how strong my hips are now! His room was shaking and there were even a few things that fell off of some shelves, just from the sheer force of me fucking him!

Anyways, he came inside me, I came even harder, I rode him for a little bit longer, and then I noticed that he was soaked with sweat and thoroughly unconscious. I collected my money and strutted out of that house feeling like the queen of the goddamn planet.


So, I think that I might be indestructible. It started when my friend Brittany was being harassed by these two guys, Brad and Chad. I like to call them tweedle dee and tweedle dumb. Anyways, nobody else was around so I asked for them to leave her alone. Actually it wasn’t a request, it was an order. Brad’s response was “Make us.” My response was “Okay” and then I grabbed the handle on the locker next to him and threw it open, slamming it against his head hard enough to make him instantly crumble to the floor, barely conscious.

That was when Chad tried to punch me, the operative word here being ‘tried’.

First of all, the punch seemed to be strangely slow. I kinda noticed that in yesterday’s dodgeball game, too. Things seemed to move slower than normal. Perhaps my brain is slowly getting stronger, too. Anyways, for some reason or another, I decided not to dodge the punch. I just had a feeling in my gut that it wasn’t going to hurt me as much as it would have a few days ago.

My guess was technically correct, but I was wildly off the mark on just how little it would hurt me. Because it didn’t hurt at all. It felt like getting hit in the face by a single piece of paper blowing in the wind. Meanwhile, Brad immediately grabbed his fist, wincing and gritting his teeth in pain. His knuckles were bleeding, just from hitting me! Again, since nobody else was around, I responded by grabbing him by the throat, squeezing it so that he couldn’t breath, and lifting him up off of the floor. He was so light, it was amazing. He felt like he only had a tenth of the weight of the last two guys that I did this to. Of course, he instinctively tried to free himself, trying to pry my single hand away from his throat with all of his might, but he felt so weak to me. I could see the veins bulging in his arms, but it didn’t feel like a grown man was resisting me. It felt like maybe 2% of a grown man was resisting me. It almost made me laugh.

Anyways, I gave him a gentle toss (about five meters down the hall. It was so fucking cool!) and then the two of them ran away. I checked on a now thoroughly speechless Brittany to make sure she was alright, and then I headed to my next class, confident that male masculinity will prevent those two from ever telling anybody what happened.

Quick side note, the guidance counselor actually did end up hearing about this incident and called me to his office for questioning. But I got out of it the same way that I get out of everything else. I put on my womanly charms until he was so infatuated with me that he gave up his investigation and gave me the verdict that I wanted to hear. He was surprisingly stubborn, though. Even though he was visibly flustered when I simply smiled at him, he still kept pressing the issue until I actually had to get out of my chair, walk over to him, and sit on his lap. After that, however, I asked him one more time if he actually believed that a girl like me would do something like that, completely with a little pout of my lips. That made him instantly change his mind, and he hurried to get me off of his lap and out of his office before I noticed his raging erection. (Mission failed, counselor. I noticed.)

Anyways, when I got home from school, I experimentally poked my hand with a pen. I didn’t feel any pain whatsoever, so I applied more and more pressure until the pen cracked and then shattered. Then, I upgraded to a knife and repeated the same process. I poked myself with the tip of the blade gently, then I put more pressure on it when that failed to draw any blood or even cause any pain whatsoever until eventually, the steel knife also broke. A little while later, I put a frozen pizza in the oven for dinner, when I had the idea to pull it out without using oven mitts or any other heat protection. Again, I was careful about it, touching the 215 degree metal wrack VERY slowly. That is, until I quickly realized that it didn’t hurt. It just felt pleasantly warm, even though I could see a little bit of steam rising up from where my fingertips were touching the metal, probably from the tiny bit of moisture on my hands rapidly evaporating at the scalding hot touch.

I just finished eating that pizza. There’s an expression that says “Free meals always taste better”. Well, so do meals that are made with the help of your newly-developing super powers!

So then, I decided that I simply HAVE to know if I’m bulletproof or not. So I called up a guy I know who’s into hunting and said that I’d go on a one-on-one trip with him if he gave me $100. Just the two of us. He, of course, got a COMPLETELY different idea and answered “Yes” after only the briefest hesitation. But I could tell that he wasn’t thinking to himself “Should I pay for this?” He was instead asking himself “How am I going to pay for this?”. But in the end, he agreed. I’m excited, but also a little nervous.


Well, the bulletproof test will have to wait until tomorrow, because it’s still a school day and it’ll be almost dark by the time Michael (the hunter I mentioned yesterday) would be able to get himself ready, pick me up, drive me out into the woods, and start shooting me. However, this was still an amazing day. It all started with one incredible discovery:

My strength can’t be measured with regular weights anymore.

I was feeling pretty good today, probably on account of me quickly evolving into a completely unstoppable super woman (again, I can’t WAIT to see if I’m bulletproof) so I called up my friends and went to a 24-hour gym uptown that Kelly had a membership in. We went at night, so it was mostly empty. But I still had to ‘persuade’ the two guys there into going home early, which wasn’t hard. I just leaned over them, dangled my tits in front of his face and told him that I’d really appreciate it if he’d let us have the gym “Just this once. Pretty please…”

Anyways, the barbell at this gym can hold one additional weighted plate on each side of the barbell, meaning that it can be loaded with up to 280kg in total, plus the 20kg bar. All of my friends were laughing and cracking jokes as I put more and more weight on the bar. All except for Brittany, that is. After I beat the crap out of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb in front of her the other day, I could tell that a small part of her was wondering if I could actually bench that much weight. But in the end, I didn’t bench it.

I curled it. With one hand. And it was easy.

Naturally, over half of my friends thought that this was a joke. Ashley in particular refused to believe that it was possible, constantly telling the other girls that she’s seen joke videos like this before online. Then she started looking for wires, mirrors, or any signs of magnetic devices. But I informed them that this wasn’t a joke and offered for them to try and lift it themselves. Obviously, they failed.

If you didn’t know, an average man should be able to curl roughly 60% of their weight, but it depends on… well, their weight. And, as previously mentioned, an average woman should only be able to do half of that; 30% of her weight. But I was able to curl 500% of my weight, and I was able to do it with one hand. So actually, I could curl 10x my weight if I used two.

Wait… Correction, I can curl at least 10x my weight. Because I actually did a full set of 20 reps and I could have gone further. 300kg of weight is clearly not enough for only one of my arms. Again, my strength can’t be measured with traditional weights anymore.

Oh, I also demonstrated my invulnerability by taking one of the 20kg plates and smashing it against my skull. I won’t lie, it almost hurt (probably because I might be the only thing strong enough to hurt me, idk). But what was really surprising was the fact that I damaged the metal plate a LOT more than I damaged myself. When I pulled the plate away from my skull, the dense lead had a huge Carly-shaped dent in it. The hole in the center of the weight was so badly caved in from the warped metal that the hole was almost closed entirely. The weight was completely ruined. So I tried widening again by just sticking my fingers in there and seeing if I could push the metal apart, and… I actually could!! I just pressed my fingers against the metal and pried it apart until it once again had a hole that was roughly the same size it was earlier. It took a little bit of effort, but not much. My fingers were bending metal, and it wasn’t even that hard!!

Side note, fixing the weight might have also made Gina discover that she’s gay. The sight of my fingers reaching into a hole and pressing against the metal with enough force to mold to my will like clay made her visibly flustered. And the fact that I couldn’t resist a playful little wink at her didn’t calm her down in any way.

So then, I did my best to twist and bend the rest of the plate back into its original shape, or as close as I could manage anyway, before we all quickly fled from the gym before anybody noticed the damaged equipment. Some of my friends were struggling to accept the fact that I was suddenly a superhuman now, but some of the others were actually kinda excited.

In fact as we were walking, Tawnya eventually convinced me into trying to lift a car that was parked on the road. Eventually, more and more of the girls chimed in, curious to see if I could actually do it. Still in good spirits and not wanting to disappoint the crowd, I went for it. I approached the average-sized sedan, bent over, reached my arms underneath the vehicle as far as I could go, experimentally tried lifting my legs to test its weight, and…

Just with that little experimental push upwards, I could tell that I moved it. I heard the metal of the car groan a little bit and I heard the shock absorbers loosen as a significant amount of weight was taking off of the area around the wheels. So I tried pushing my hands up just a little bit further and I saw the tires slowly leave the ground. At that point, I knew that I was definitely strong enough to do this. Very slowly (just to show off to my now thoroughly freaked out group of friends), I straightened my legs…


The crazed excitement from my friends and the even stronger excitement that I was feeling from actually doing this was growing with every passing moment as I eventually completed the motion of hoisting the vehicle up off of the road and then lifting it up completely over my head. My friends’ reactions varied wildly.

“Holy shit that is fucking awesome!!”

“Oh my god Carly, put it down! Put it down!!”

“Oh my god… OH MY GOD!!”

“I’m friends with a superhuman! Holy shit!!”

But I for one, have never felt more fucking powerful in my entire life. Holding a car over my head like all of the comic book heroes was easily the single greatest feeling I’ve had in my life. Or at least, the greatest feeling I’ve had in my life so far...

I put the car back down, we ended up fleeing the scene again just because all of us were freaking out in different ways, and then… unfortunately, it was getting pretty late at that point, so everybody had to go home. I wasn’t even feeling remotely tired yet. In fact, I’ve been getting less sleep every day but I still somehow seem to be fine. Maybe that’s a power I’m developing too? But anyways, after lifting a goddamn car over my head (say whaaaat??), I went home and got even less sleep than normal.

So, my friends are mostly cool with the fact that I have super powers now, I’m still getting stronger every day, I couldn’t WAIT to do some more experimenting tomorrow.


Best. Day. Ever.

It was the first Saturday since I became a legal adult (oh, and also got amazing super powers) and boy oh BOY was it eventful. It started with Michael taking me “hunting” early in the morning. He was dressed in bright colors in order to make sure he isn’t shot by other hunters (I guess that’s a thing…?) and I, who hasn’t even had the capacity to feel uncomfortable with cold weather for a day or two now, was dressed in a low cut T-shirt and a pair of denim shorts that were so short that there’s no way in hell I’d be allowed to wear them in school no matter how much feminine charms I throw at the faculty.

And believe me, I’ve gotten away with a lot by doing that.

Anyways, after nearly getting into five or six car accidents because Mike couldn’t take his eyes off of me, we made it to the location and he handed me the handgun I requested. Oh yeah, I had to ask for him to bring that along because I had a sneaking suspicion that it isn’t the kind of weapon you use to go hunting. But it is the kind of weapon you can use to shoot yourself in the hand with.

Boy, was he freaked out when I just grabbed the pistol with my right hand, held out my left hand, pressed the chamber into my palm, and pulled the trigger without saying a word. I didn’t bother explaining because I knew he would never believe that it was possible for me to be bulletproof. It was the quickest way for me to learn, you know?

It was crazy. The bullet that hit my hand didn’t feel like a bullet. It felt like a nerf dart and it was about as harmful as one, too. But of course, since I had the gun pressed directly into my hand, the bullet, which had now bounced harmlessly off of my skin, had nowhere else to go but back up the chamber again, exploding out through the metal of the back of the gun. I guess that metal isn’t able to withstand gunfire like my skin apparently can. I probably stared in shock for several seconds before it finally started to set in:

I am bulletproof.

If being able to lift a car and break the record for the 100m sprint ten times over (0.97 seconds, by the way) wasn’t enough already, that was the final moment when I realized that I truly was unstoppable. I was so completely and utterly manic with excitement (Can you blame me?) that I pretty much forced Michael to fire all of his ammunition from his hunting rifle straight into me. He was pretty freaked out when I first asked him to do it, and my reassuring words didn’t make him any less flustered from being in the presence of a smoking hot super babe screaming at him to shoot her, so I actually had to promise him that I’d take off my shirt for him if he’d agree to do it. He still hesitated to shoot the girl of his dreams, though. So I sighed theatrically and said “Alright, I understand. I guess you don’t want to see my tits.”

Of course, my words had the exact intended effect. He pointed his rifle at me, and hesitated one more time. So I just stood there and sang “tiiittiiiies” in a song-songy voice and swung my asset back and forth. That finally got him to pull the trigger, resulting in a familiar tap against my right thigh and telltale sound of a ricocheting bullet. “More…!” I demanded.

For the next minute or so, I just stood with my back against a tree while he fired shot after shot directly at me. Round after round tore straight through my bra (because I was shirtless now) and shorts, but then bounced off of my smooth skin. Each impact just felt like a tap, even the one that hit me between the eyes. After that, Michael was thoroughly freaked out and I was thoroughly excited. I felt like I was walking on air, it was so exhilarating.

Suddenly I noticed that it didn’t just feel like I was walking on air.

I was flying. Even after everything else I’ve seen in this past week, I could barely believe it. Of course, I immediately started playing around with it in order to see if I could control it. And surprisingly, it wasn’t very hard. To put it simply, if I imagine myself leaving the floor and floating half a meter in the air, then I just do. If I imagine myself being able to easily pivot/rotate my body even though I’m not touching any sort of surface that would enable me to do so, I do. If I imagine myself flying forward at a speed of 20 meters per second, I do.

So, thus began the part of the day where I got completely drunk on power and enjoying every second of it.

I completely forgot about Michael. I just started flying around the woods and punching trees in half, just because I could. I flew above the treetops and found some small rocky mountains over on the other side of the forest, so I flew over there (It was so easy, I just flew over there!!) and lifted the biggest rocks I could find over my head with one hand and threw them into a lake 3 kilometers away, just because I could.

I suddenly remembered that Michael drives a bulky pickup truck, so I flew back there and, just as he was about to climb inside of the car and hurry home, I landed next to him, bent over, grabbed the underside of the vehicle, and lifted it over my head. Then I actually floated a few meters off of the ground with the truck in my hands, just because I could.

After that, I realized that I didn’t want to spend the whole day in the forest, so I put the truck back down. (Michael was so scared and horny at the same time that he forgot to breathe and passed out in shock, ha ha!!) And then, I immediately flew home. Because it was a Saturday night.

It was time to make some plans to hit the town… specifically, the most decrepit, run-down, crime-ridden part of town.

Just. Because. I. Could.

A few hours later, I was strutting down the streets of the ghettos at night, alone, and in the most alluring clothes I could find. I was still wearing a scandalously short part of shorts, but this time I downgraded my t-shirt to a sleeveless tank top. I literally just walked around for about an hour, went to a little hole in the wall restaurant for a late dinner, drew the attention of every man in the restaurant as always, finished my meal, left, and then walked around some more.

Finally, it happened.

It’s pretty crazy in hindsight, realizing that I was literally looking for trouble. But it’s undeniable that this was exactly what I was doing. So I was giddy beyond words when a gruff man with unkempt facial hair and an oversized hoodie decided that I was so sexy that he was going to make love to me whether I wanted to or not. (At least, that’s what he thought.) Once I realized I was being followed, I started intentionally going into more and more deserted parts of town. Finally, he ran up to me and put a knife to my throat. I still remember his first words to me.

“Follow me or I’ll cut your pretty head off.”

My response was a very casual “Kay”. He was visibly annoyed by my complete lack of fear, but he didn’t say anything because he was obviously happy to just get me to follow him into an empty alley. Once we were there, he demanded that I take off my shirt, trying to sound as threatening as possible. My response was “Whoa, at least take me to dinner first.”

He didn’t like that answer. He yelled something about me being a stupid bitch and then lunged at me with his knife, “pinning” me against the wall and giving me a small little cut on my finger to let me know that he meant business.

And that’s when the fun began. First, he was surprised to see that I wasn’t bleeding. So he cut me again, this time harder. Same result. At that point, I had finally reached the moment that I was secretly hoping for all night: A moment to let loose and have some real fun with my super powers.

“Oh, I’m invincible,” I simply told him. I couldn’t hide my smile as I grabbed him by the throat, watched in excitement as I felt the pitiful amount of strength in his arms as he thrashed around, trying to break the grip of my single hand. Then I used my other hand to punch him in the face, which resulted in him flying all the way to the other end of the alley. His rolling body slammed into a trash can in the street and flopped down to the ground, groaning in serious pain. 

I slowly walked over to him as he struggled to get up on his knees. But when he did, I couldn’t help but tease him a little. As I walked over to the injured man, I actually did end up taking off my shirt like the man asked, and his eyes widened in obvious arousal. Then I took off my bra as well, and his jaw hit the floor. He almost completely forgot about the intense pain that I just put him through. Then, I took off my shorts, leaving nothing but my panties on. By now, he started panting like a starving dog. Sometimes it’s amazing how much control I have over men. 

And finally... once I was down to my panties, I started being as promiscuous as I possibly could without actually touching him. Swaying my wide hips, playing with my naked tits, grinding my round ass mere centimeters away from his nearly prone body… He utterly lost his mind so quickly that it wasn’ long before he tried to wrestle me to the ground. Of course, I pushed him away, using only one hand to easily subdue him. Then I went down to using only one finger to keep him away while he continued to get more and more desperate to touch the merchandise that I was dangling in front of his face.

But it wasn’t long before he gave up his efforts to overpower me. It wasn’t long before he was too exhausted to continue fighting me. So now that playtime was over, I finally spoke to him again.

“If you want to make love to a woman,” I lectured him. “You need to get her permission first. Oh, and also you should probably lower your standards a bit. I can do better than a guy with the ‘homeless man’ look.” And then… I just grabbed him by the throat and threw the man around the alley like a cloth rag doll. Each time he flew into another wall/dumpster/whatever else I wanted to throw him at and each time he flopped back down into the dirt only for me to pick him back up again for another throw, he barely even had time to scream before he ended up going airborne again, courtesy of a little flick of my wrist. Well, he also struggled and thrashed with all of his might to break my grip each time, but he felt so weak that it was almost laughable. In the end, all he could do was get out a few panicked screams for help and yelps of pain in between each time I threw him around like a cheap toy. But after only a few short seconds, he was black, blue, bleeding from his lip, and thoroughly unconscious. It was over before it even began.

At that point, in addition to feeling excessively horny after getting naked and then teasing a man until he nearly came from just the sight of me, my ‘drunk on power’ feeling had just hit a whole new level. I suddenly needed some action, and I needed it right away. I quickly got dressed, flew up into the night sky, and headed to a nicer part of town, not far from where I live.

After that, I began my absolute manic search for guys to satisfy my needs. And believe me, “manic” was the only word to describe it.

The next twenty minute or so were a blur. I went into the local nightclub. I found a guy that’s a definite 9/10. I told him to come with me. We went outside. I grabbed him by the waist and flew away with him in my arms. He started to scream. I told him that I was going to fuck him by the end of the night. He stopped screaming. I went to a bar. There were a few 7’s and an 8, but not a single 9 or 10. I left the bar. I flew my new friend to another bar. Same luck. I dragged him to another nightclub. I found a 10. I grabbed him by the arm and practically dragged him away. I grabbed both of my men, one in each arm, and flew over to a deserted rooftop. I tore their clothes off of their body, ripping everything they were wearing to pieces. And then I completely and utterly fucked their absolute brains out.

The first guy (the 9) just laid on his back while I bounced on his dick until he started complaining that I was hurting him. I guess there’s one downside of being as strong as me, but he was still enjoyable nonetheless. I could also tell that he wanted to be on top, but my super strength said ‘no.’ He also probably wanted to grab my ass as I rode him. But my two hands, who were keeping his hands on the task of playing with my breasts also said ‘no.’ But boy, did he struggle to overpower me. And boy, was the look on his face priceless when he slowly realized that his pelvis was being smashed by a pair of smooth hips with a level of force that he never imagined. And I was going easy on him!

He still enjoyed it though. So after he busted the biggest nut in his life and then promptly crumpled like a leaf onto the floor, I grabbed the second man (the 10), floated up into the air with him, and used him as a dildo. I just lifted him up inside of me again and again. His muscular, somewhat hairy arms grabbed onto me tightly. He desperately tried to hold on for dear life as I rammed him inside of me, shaking his entire body up and down, again and again and again and again.

He actually passed out from shock just before I was able to reach orgasm, which was equal parts disappointing and… hot, somehow. So, above the unconscious bodies of the two men that I knocked out with nothing but my hips pounding their dicks into oblivion, I jammed my fingers in between my legs and finished the job. I think that half of the neighborhood heard my moans. But I didn’t give a shit, and I still don’t.

After that truly incredible moment, I took to the skies again and took my time flying home, admiring the beautiful bird’s eye view of my city’s nightlife from just below the clouds and basking in the afterglow of what felt like the first night of a whole new life for me.

Look out, world. The new and improved Carly Balmor is in town, and she’s ready to play!

Author's note: I'm not sure if I'm going to make any more of these. And even if I do, it will be at a much slower rate. However, the idea behind these journals was actually to create a fun challenge for other people to try: Write a series of stories that thrives on being 90% freewriting. After all, this isn't a professionally-written story. It's just a journal that some girl wrote!

So, I planned out certain details of this story in advance, but the actual writing process itself was done completely on the fly, and I made very minimal revisions before moving onto the next entry. The first four journal entries, not including the short time spent in slight revisions and proofreading, were written in about twenty minutes. The fifth entry was written in thirty minutes, and the final entry was written in seventy minutes. So, if you want to make your own "Super Journals" story, there are only two 'rules' as far as I'm concerned.

1. It must be written in the form of journal entries
2. Write them in the most casual, stress-free manner you can.

Again, they're not stories that need to have tons of effort put into their pacing and desriptions. They're just some girl's (or guy's) journals. So just have fun! And check out the thread in the comments section for discussion/questions.

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