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The Supergirl Phenomenon

Written by Steve the Z :: [Saturday, 26 July 2003 14:33] Last updated by :: [Friday, 16 September 2016 17:31]

The Supergirl Phenomenon

by Steve the Z


As her footfalls mingled with those of the people around her, Mary Herovitz reflected on the unfairness of life. Her boyfriend had just broken up with her, it looked as if she would be laid off from her part time secretarial job within the week, and was two payments behind on the exercise bike she had bought.

She was so wrapped up in her own misery that she almost didn't notice the accident. There was a sudden squealing of brakes and tires, and a van broadsides a car that had pulled out of the intersection she was just about to cross.

Startled out of her reverie, Mary stopped and stared at the wreckage of the two vehicles. A crowd was already gathering, and she heard someone yell, "Hey, there's a kid trapped in the car!"

Flames were licking towards the gas tank of the car as three burly men tried to open the passenger side door. But it was stuck tight, warped closed by the bent and twisted shell of the car.

Mary looked on in despair, certain the child and the men were doomed unless a miracle occurred in the next few seconds.

"Oh! If only there was something I could do!" she said.

No sooner had these words left her lips, than she felt a great surge of energy rush through her body. Power like nothing she had ever imagined surged through her limbs and muscles, which, unable to contain this phenomenal vitality in their present proportions, began to grow and develop. Her clothing became constrictive, her blouse was pulled taut around her expanding torso and growing muscles, the sleeves splitting across bulging biceps as the cloth across her broadening shoulders burst apart.

Mary's breasts acquired a new fullness, and immediately began to press quite firmly against the confines of her blouse while being simultaneously elevated by extraordinarily well-developed pectoral muscles, the buttons straining mightily against the building pressure. She grasped the sides of her blouse and pulled them apart, with buttons flying, and a large bright yellow 'S' with red trim was exposed on a form-fitting blue background.

"What," Mary said, as she peeled the remnants of her blouse away from her powerful torso to fully reveal the blue costume she wore, "Is going ON here!"

The scream of the crowd caught her attention, and she looked up to see the rear end of the car burst into flame. The men who had been trying to open the door were forced back by the heat, and now the high pitched wailing of the trapped child could be heard above the cries of the crowd.

"I've got to do something!" Mary said, "And now I think I CAN!"

Unhesitatingly, she strode forward, pushing aside whoever stood in her way. Well over six feet tall now, she towered over the crowd as she approached the tangled vehicles. Her torn brown skirt fell away, and the bright red, very brief red pleated skirt beneath it allowed her long, muscular bronzed legs plenty of freedom of movement.

As the people noticed Mary a hush fell over the crowd, and they backed away as the beautiful and powerful woman approached the cars.

The flames barely warmed her as Mary grasped the edges of the car door with the tips of her fingers. The red polish on her long nails remained pristine as with a horrendous groaning of screeching metal she tore the door from the car. The power coursing in her bulging muscles was almost orgasmic in its intensity. She tossed the door over her shoulder with one hand while with the other she wrenched the child's seat belt out of its socket. As she bent down to pull the child from the seat flames washed ineffectively across her back, burning neither her costume nor her skin. She lifted the crying little girl from the seat, then, protectively wrapping her in her arms she jumped away just as the gas tank went up, and found herself flying over everyone's head.

While the firemen, who had set up their hoses while Mary was rescuing the girl, played water over the burning vehicles, Mary descended on the fringes of the crowd, with the little girl's arms clasped tightly around her neck, and, much to the delight of the men in the throng, with her tiny red skirt flipped up by the breeze of her descent. Mary's right leg was held straight while her left was bent up at the knee. Whatever agency had designed her costume had decided that the thong-back look was appropriate for the blue briefs she wore under her minuscule skirt, and the airy material of which the skirt was made assured that the mildest of breezes would expose her shapely hips and buttocks.

Unknowing, or uncaring, of the effect she had on the male libido, Mary's red-booted, high-heeled toe touched the ground, shortly followed by the other. While the people applauded and cheered, she handed the girl to her parents, who effusively thanked Mary through their tears of joy.

"B-but," the girl's father said as he wiped his face with a handkerchief. "Who ARE you?"

Silence fell, as everyone awaited her answer.

"Why," Mary said, glancing down at the 'S' curving across her magnificent chest. "I'm Superwoman!"


Kimberly Villinova was stretched out on the couch watching the 6 o'clock news. A story about the superwoman who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere that afternoon was running.

"Hey, Bob!" Kimberly called to her boyfriend, who was in the kitchen making himself a sandwich. "Come and look at this!"

Bob joined Kimberly in the living room, and the two 16 year olds watched the news story.

"Aw, that's just a bunch of hooey," Bob said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture at the TV screen. "Just some publicity stunt or somethin'."

"I don't know," Kim said. "Just look at her. She's pretty imposing, if you ask me."

"It's just special effects," Bob said, returning to the kitchen and his sandwich.

Kim flicked the set off with the remote, thoughtfully contemplating the events she had just seen. "I wonder," she mused. "Where did she come from? Who is she? And if there are superwoman heroes around now, are there also super villains?"

This thought excited her, and her pulse beat a little faster.

"Yeah," she said. "Wouldn't that be something! To be a super villain!"

A tingling sensation ran down Kim's spine, and she shivered with pleasure, stretching like a cat along the cushions. Her feet slid farther down the length of the couch than they should have, her legs spanning almost the entire length of the sofa. Kim ran her hands wonderingly down her thighs, marveling at how silky smooth they felt, and at the wonderful tan she had somehow acquired. Bulging muscles loomed under her hands, she felt incredible strength throbbing in her legs.

"Wha-what's going on …" she whispered. "What's HAPPENING to me!"

Lifting them from her thighs, Kim held her hands in front of her face, staring enthralled at her fingertips, and at her lengthening, thickening nails, which tapered into points as she watched, becoming ten razor-sharp talons.

She turned her hands this way and that, the light gleaming from the tips of her claws. A low growl of satisfaction rumbled deep in Kim's throat.

With the feline grace of a panther, Kim swung herself off the couch and sprang to her feet, her leg muscles coiling like steel bands. In a half crouch, she sniffed the air, amazed at how sensitive her sense of smell was. She purred throatily and put her hands on her denim covered hips, delighted at how tight her cut-offs were, and feeling sexy as hell. Her muscle-bound thighs had split the seams of her shorts, which were becoming steadily skimpier. Kim's breasts, which had matured to a remarkable degree of voluptuousness, jiggled firmly with her every movement and had stretched her T-shirt around them like a balloon.

"I still don't know what's happening to me," she said with an evil grin. "But I LIKE it!"

Kim's hair darkened to a midnight black hue, and fell straight to her tiny waist. A 'V' as black as her hair appeared on her shirt over her chest, curving pronouncedly over the peaks of her heaving breasts. Her muscles grew larger and she thrilled at the sensation of mounting strength that flowed through her limbs; she retracted her claws so she could clench her fists and watch her biceps grow huge while bands of sinew writhed in her forearms like steel cables.

Spiked heels sprouted from her sneakers, forcing her muscular calves to flex conspicuously. Her shoes became black opera pumps with six-inch stiletto heels that forced Kim to stand almost on her toes, every muscle in her extraordinarily long legs flexed to the max.

Her shorts' blue denim darkened to black, the material changing to form-fitting black spandex that flowed into a new, provocative style around her scintillating curves that left most of her shapely ass and all of her hips exposed by the lower half of her costume. Her T-shirt, now a gleaming, scintillating white, followed suit with a plunging back, a tight turtleneck and her powerful arms and shoulders bared. The 'V' curving over her thrusting chest was outlined by silver that matched the slim belt encircling her slender waist.

Kim's lashes grew long and lush, her eyes tilted up at the corners, her brows reversed their slant to point skyward. Her pupils became black vertical slits surrounded by a gold-flecked green. Her incisors lengthened into sharp little fangs and her narrow pink tongue moistened her full red lips.

She had never been so aware of her body, of the sensory promises and delights it harbored. Carnal sensations coursed through her, her nipples became hard and conspicuously erect, the tight swatch of spandex between her legs sent jolts of lust coursing through her womanhood.

Her body swaying, Kim sauntered into the kitchen, where Bob sat at the table eating his sandwich. At the sight of Kim, his food dropped from his numb fingers. "What the …" he began.

Kim grabbed him by the lapels and hoisted him into the air. His chair fell backwards onto the floor, and his knees jolted against the table, sending it skittering across the linoleum. His feet dangling six inches off the floor, Bob found himself staring into Kim's beautiful, evil eyes.

"You're going to sexually satisfy me, Bobby dear," Kim purred, smiling so her fangs gleamed. "Or die trying."

Bob gulped.


A bunch of kids were playing in the park on State Street, running around and yelling and having a good time. About five or six boys and girls were climbing on the monkey bars, including 12 year old Janet Hirshorn and her 14 year old brother Larry.

Larry was jeering at Janet because she was having a hard time getting to the top of the monkey bar's gridwork, where Larry had scrambled up a number of times with no problem at all.

"Aw, you're just a weakling girl!" he said, embarrassing her in front of the other kids.

Janet gave up at only half way to the top and climbed back down, then disconsolately wandered away while Larry catcalled after her. She sat down on a bench, a tear running down her cheek. "Darn that Larry!" she said. "He's always making fun of me! I wish I wasn't so weak and puny, THEN I'd show him!"

No sooner had these words left her lips when Janet felt a very strange tingling pulsing within her arms. Wiping her tears away with the backs of her hands, she stared curiously at her arms, wondering what the weird sensation was. She shook her fingers, but the feeling remained, and seemed to be growing even more intense.

Janet began to get nervous, for her arms were positively throbbing now. And they were starting to look different too. Her skin was tightening, and sinewy ridges were slithering beneath. Veins rose across her biceps, and they looked BIGGER. Janet's eyes widened as the sleeves of her horizontally red and white striped t-shirt became more and more stretched around them.

She was sure the cloth would tear, but somehow the material seemed to be accommodating the now enormous size of her bulging biceps, with the stripes changing style to form a pointed pattern at the peaks of the muscles.

Janet had been resting her arms on her thighs. Now she lifted them and clenched her tiny fists, marveling at the incredible strength she now possessed.

"Just a weakling girl, eh?" she said, getting to her feet. "I'll show that smartass Larry now!"

She stalked toward the monkey bars, her long, coltish legs growing longer and stronger with every step, until by the time she reached the bars she was well over six feet tall and her shorts were stretched painfully tight around her powerfully developed thighs.

"Oh, Larry," she called sweetly to her brother, who was perched at the top of the bars, though not so far above Janet's head now, laughing at some joke the other boy with him had just told.

"What now, you little sissy," Larry sneered before looking down at Janet.

His mouth dropped open, his eyes nearly popping from his head, Larry stared at the Amazon standing with hands on hips below him.

"Just this, Larry," Janet said, reaching forward and grabbing two of the round metal struts before her. With terrifying ease, Janet tilted the 300 pound structure to the side, toppling Larry and his friend to the ground, where they watched mesmerized as Janet, her biceps bulging incredibly, bent and twisted the iron rods into fantastic new shapes.

They scrambled backwards on all fours when Janet turned towards them, but she moved VERY quickly, and before either boy knew what was happening, they found themselves dangling, one from each hand, at the ends of Janet's outstretched arms.

"I'll be lenient with you two little boys this time," Janet said, her voice deep and commanding, "But I'll tolerate no more insults to women from either of you from now on. Understood?"

Larry and his friend nodded their heads as vigorously as they could.

"Good!" Janet said, releasing her hold and dropping the boys unceremoniously. Then she turned her back to them, giving them a good view of her sexy backside barely covered by the bright blue spandex briefs of her supergirl costume, and, her yellow cape flapping, she leaped into the air and flew off until she was only a small dot which soon disappeared.


"And so," Linda Forest, the lead news anchorwoman on Channel Seven's Action News Team concluded. "This remarkable phenomenon has been reported in at least twenty five unofficial reports throughout the city. Young women have been seen by many witnesses somehow being transformed into superwomen, and after performing a heroic or some other super stunt, flying off or otherwise disappearing from sight. So far, no comments have been forthcoming from city officials, but THIS reporter would like some first hand information on these bizarre occurrences. If YOU see any of these events happening, please call our station immediately at the number on the bottom of your screen. Bill?"

Linda, who was impeccably attired in a pin-striped women's business suit, turned to her co-anchor.

"Well, Linda," Bill said, chuckling. "These certainly ARE strange reports. I hope YOU don't start growing seven feet tall now!"

Linda chuckled along with Bill. "Right!" she said. "Though I must admit it would certainly be intriguing to find myself in that sort of situation," she said.

Bill's mouth suddenly dropped open, and he stared aghast at Linda. "Oh my God," he said.

"Bill, what's wrong?" Linda said, her voice edged with concern.

Bill pointed at the general area of Linda's chest as he frantically backed away from her, pushing his chair across the floor with his feet. "You-you-you ARE changing!" he blurted.

Everyone watching Channel 7's news at that moment saw Linda's very neat pin-striped suit abruptly filled with her live on-the-air, new, extremely muscular torso.

"My gosh, Bill!" Linda said, "This is fantastic! I feel so incredibly STRONG! Keep that camera on me boys! This'll boost our ratings sky-high! Look at this!"

Linda clenched her fists and executed a double biceps pose for the camera, smiling charmingly for her audience as her biceps burst through her sleeves. "I could be a contender for Ms. Olympia!" she said, "And I've never pumped iron in my life! Pull the angle back, Joe," she said, addressing the cameraman. "I want our viewers to get an eyeful here!"

Joe pulled his camera away as Linda stood and made her way around to the front of the newsdesk, still talking to the viewers. "I am NOT wearing a miniskirt, ladies and gentlemen," she said, gesturing to her tight, brief skirt. "My legs are actually LONGER, and the muscles you see bulging so mightily here have developed to this condition in only the last few SECONDS! Yes, I am living proof that the Supergirl Phenomenon affecting our city is TRUE. And I believe I know the secret to triggering it, ladies. You only have to WANT it to happen to you. And it will!"

Linda ran a hand down her bronzed, bulging thigh. "My pantyhose have just simply DISSAPEARED!" she said. "My skin tone has darkened to this bronzed shade all by itself, and it feels as smooth as silk! Observe my skirt! It has been restyled to this extremely short, pleated microskirt, and I wouldn't have it any other way, ladies! With legs like these, I INSIST on showing them off!"

Linda turned to present her profile to the camera. She pulled her shoulders back and thrust her chest out. "And look at my bustline, girls. I'm braless, but my breasts are tilting UP! I can FEEL the muscles of my chest holding them there, and it's simply WONDERFUL! Girls, our time has come!"

A woman up in the control booth smiled as her shoulders split the seams of her blouse and buttons popped off from her swelling breasts.

In a department store across town, a number of people had watched the news report on the TVs in the audio department. As the newscast aired, the young women in the crowd grew steadily taller as their skirts and dresses grew steadily shorter and shorter. By the time Linda was showing off her bustline, all the women were clad in microskirts or hot pants or sexily cut briefs; they towered above the men, and their blonde, red, brown and auburn haired tresses tumbled thickly down and around their wide, powerful shoulders.

At a busy brokerage office on State Street, the lone male employee, sitting at one of the thirty five desks in the office, listened to the sound of thirty four skirts slithering up thirty four pairs of long, smooth, strong legs and ogled sixty eight breasts growing voluptuously under straining blouses, tops, pullovers and sweaters. The petite 18-year-old redhead he had secretly admired for the two weeks since she had been hired sauntered over to his desk. She was now six and a half feet tall, wearing electric blue mini-shorts and a skintight bright yellow top with the words 'Electra-Girl' emblazoned in red across her magnificent bosom. She leaned close to Mark (that was his name) and flexed her twenty inch bicep in front of his face.

"Like my new muscles?" she asked, her lip quirked into a saucy little smile.

"I-I-I …" Mark stammered.

"Don't be nervous, Mark," she said. "I LIKE you. Let's have sex, OK?"

The Beginning …

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