Part 33 - Hot Machines
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Warning: This is adult literature. If you’re not of a legal age to read this stuff, don’t.
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. No semblance between the characters described here and real individuals -- living or dead -- is implied or intended.
Plot Synopsis Up to This Point:
Four female postgraduate students in New Mexico (Vicky, Tammy, Louisa and Kim) are living depressing lives fraught with personal and professional failures.
One day, driving through the lonely new Mexico desert, they are commandeered by aliens. Turns out, the aliens would like to come back one day and mine the our earthly sphere until it's Swiss cheese. But in the meantime, they need a little help mapping the earth's geology and perhaps subduing its population. And who better to help with that than a handful of local females, recruited involuntarily? The aliens soup them up with some supernatural abilities and turn them loose.
No one knows when the aliens are going to come back, if they ever do. And that gives the girls plenty of opportunity to explore the supernatural abilities the aliens have given them. In case you've never been superhuman, it involves not only absurd strength, but also being absurdly attractive, with the sexual appetite to match. It means you can store a city’s worth of electricity inside of you, and blow shit up at will. And it means you can fly.
Vicky is the leader of the four. Her only regret about leaving her old life behind is that Jared got left behind with it. A longtime friend, she wishes he could be something more. She can win his body over no problem. But she wants him to admire and respect her too.
As we leave off Part 32, all four of the girls have visited a massive nuclear power complex in Eastern Europe, where they loaded up on an unprecedented amount of energy. Two of the girls, Tammy and Louisa, have already put this to good use, defeating of an army that had invaded the Kerch Strait in the Ukraine. It was their most public of their feat to date: the world is quickly learning their names. Meanwhile, Vicky has put to rest -- literally -- some old grievances, as well as the guy who caused them. With their fame increasing and their powers at an apogee, it seems that nothing can stop our four protagonists.
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"I'm bored," Kim lamented to the sky.
She and Vicky had been poolside all morning. With their wealth, they never had to do anything anymore. And the gaggle of guys that hung out with them was more than happy to take care of every need.
"Maybe we should go exploring again this afternoon-- climb Everest or K2 or something. Maybe we could have a picnic at the top."
"Hmmm," Vicky replied contentedly. She was lost in her own world.
"Or I don't know. Maybe we just go shopping." Kim took a desultory last swig of her Red Bull and Tonic, and then absently chewed the ice cubes. She held the rocks glass up in front of her face and considered it dispassionately. Then she stuck it between her boobs.
"Look," Kim laughed. "My tits are so big, they can smother the whole thing." Her imperial blue bikini strained against the increased volume she had imposed on it. But the glass did indeed disappear into the cavern of her flesh.
"Very nice," Vicky smiled distantly.
Kim considered the glass again, placed one hand on the side of each breast, and pressed together. A CRACK emitted from the glass as it broke, followed by a series of smaller CRACKS as the vice of her breasts closed further.
Vicky glanced disinterestedly at the experiment -- one that would have reduced any other chest to a bloody pulp. Kim giggled and began to rub her breasts back and forth against each other, producing a grinding sound like a mill would with its grist. The glass was being pulverized.
"Very impressive," Vicky patronized.
"Watch this," Kim replied. She raised her elbows slightly and increased the pressure further. There was only slight flexing of the girl's superhuman muscles, but in only moments a red bead of liquid emerged from the bottom of her cleavage. She was casually abusing the glass with many tons of force, and it was melting.
"Ohhh! That tickles," Kim announced as the rivulet of scorching red liquid traveled over her solar plexus and then slid down the slope to her taut midriff. Kim had to wiggle back and forth slightly to help the hot liquid navigate the hard six pack ridges of her abdomen. The leading edge of the rivulet finally dipped into her navel, where it stopped as a pool began to form. "Oh my gosh, that feels so funny."
Vicky's attention remained inward, a slight smile on her face. She slowly adjusted the straps of her brown slingshot one-piece suit, and then snuggled contentedly back into a daze.
"You look like you're on cloud nine," Kim laughed as her fingers absently traced lines with the molten liquid across her stomach.
"I finally buried some baggage last night," she said contentedly.
"That's nice," Kim replied.
"Literally, buried. It's a quarter mile under a mountain."
Kim turned to study her friend's face.
"I finally feel free, unburdened." Vicky's face loosened into a contented smile.
"That's awesome, baby. I'm happy for you."
Vicky paused for a moment, her eyes fixed skyward. "I think I'm ready to see him again, Kim."
Kim shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "By 'him', I assume you're talking about Jared?"
Vicky nodded. "But I need an excuse to invite him up here. He's too busy with the election campaign just to take a few days off, hang out and do nothing."
"How about we have a party? And I don't mean just any party, I mean, a huge one."
Vicky narrowed her eyes. "A party -- I like that. But I want to impress him too?"
"A huge party isn't impressive?"
"Not to Jared," Vicky replied. "To impress Jared, we need to DO something. We need to show off our powers. And it can't be depressing, like Tammy's slugfest in the Kerch Strait. It has to be fun -- "
BRRIIINGG.
The noise on Vicky's phone was so loud, she nearly jumped out of her skin. It was created by the special App the homeland security people had installed. They had designed the App especially for the girls, that it was a direct line from the highest levels of military and civilian government. "If we need you to save the the day," they had explained, "we want a way to reach you."
Moreover, they had emphasized, it works both ways. Vicky understood that as a subtle plea, as if to say, please call us, too. Before you break any more shit, please call us.
Vicky put the App on speakerphone.
"Hello," Vicky said tentatively. It was a little unnerving to be answering this for the first time. Who knew would would be on the other end, the Chief of Police, the Secretary of Defense, the U.S. President, somebody else's president, who the hell knows?
As it turns out, this time, it was NASA. The first space tourism flight in the history of earth was in trouble. Seven people had paid a million dollars a piece to spend several hours orbiting the earth in a modified shuttle-type module. But as it orbited several miles above the earth's surface, it had developed a propulsion problem with only three days of oxygen in reserve.
The NASA crisis manager got to the point quickly. "There is no time for a conventional rescue. We're not even sure if one's possible. But if you're willing to help...."
"Hang on," Vicky replied. She put her hand over the phone. "Do we want this one?" she asked Kim.
"Those space flights leave from New Mexico, don't they?"
"Yup."
"Well, of course we want this one," Kim giggled. "New Mexico pride, baby!"
"Sure," Vicky said into the phone," we can save those people for you. But you had better throw us one hell of a party."
The crisis manager replied, "A Congressional medal would certainly be in order for the successful--"
"You didn't hear me. I'm not talking about a medal, or even a medal ceremony. I'm talking about a party, a total blow-out, a party to end all parties."
She hung up the phone at looked at the glass that had now cooled on her friend's midsection. Kim had actually turned the thing into a respectable little doodle -- a god's-eye type shape with circles and intersecting lines, but one that undulated with the perfected fitness of abdomen. "What are you going to do with that thing?" she asked.
"I don't know, maybe I'll put it up on EBay."
"It's probably worth about a dollar."
Kim made playful quotes in the air. "Forged on the belly of a supergirl."
"OK, a thousand dollars."
-------
Vicky flew casually over Camelback Mountain, feeling better than ever. It had taken her hours to screw up the courage, but finally she had called Jared last night and told him about the spaceship thing. Kim was planning to bring it safely down tomorrow, and the promised party was tomorrow night.
Jared had agreed to come. Now it was the following morning. and she had to pick Jared up at the airport. It would be the first time they had seen each other since shortly after her transformation.
The weeks that had passed felt like several lifetimes to Vicky. She and the girls had come a long way -- in their power, in their celebrity, and in the way that the world was increasingly relying upon them. She wanted Jared to see what they had become. She wanted him to be impressed, from the very first moment of his arrival.
But a more practical matter was also at hand -- how to pick him up at the airport? She didn't want to carry Jared back through the air. That would probably weird him out too much, and she wanted the visit to be fun, not weird. But she couldn't pick him up in her old beater of a car, which she had never bothered to replace. She would have to rent something...
...or obtain it through other means.
Her eyes scanned the ground below before they focused on the parking lot of a posh country club. Pulling up at the valet was a hot rod, painted a flirtatious magenta.
Wow, Vicky thought, that is one sexy machine. Vicky was no car expert, but just from the look of it, she knew it would be a helluva ride. It probably had enough engine under the hood to leave the state police two miles behind before the radar gun was even back in its holster.
Vicky's eyes powered up to high magnification -- a fraction of what they could do but far beyond any natural human's capabilities. "Lamborghini Aventador," the tail read.
{{How much is that?}} Vicky transmitted telepathically to the biggest materialist in her life.
{{$350, maybe $400 thousand}} Kim replied. Count on Kim to have the luxury car magazines memorized.
Can you imagine, Vicky said to herself, the awe on Jared's face if I pull up in that thing? I wish I could borrow it, just to pick him up.
Then Vicky stopped in mid-air. Wait a minute, she thought. I don't have to borrow it. I want it. And whatever I want, I get.
------
Vicky did a deft aerial loop over the country club and then dropped quietly to the ground behind a hedgerow. She peered around the corner.
At the valet stand, the owner was watching his car approach. His girlfriend, about Vicky's age, was at his side. In Vicky's prior life, Vicky would have seen the woman as hot -- big fake boobs, collagen in the lips, and rail thin. She was the classic "trophy girlfriend" for a man twice her age, and Vicky instantly hated her.
I could haul off the car, no problem, Vicky said to herself.
"Why did you trade the last one in?" Young Missus Collagen asked her beau. Her tone was shrill. "I thought you were going to get me a Ferrari before you bought a new car for yourself. You promised!"
"I just got you a twenty-thousand dollar necklace," he responded. "Look, I needed to upgrade. All the other guys on the block bought new cars in the last six months. We were the only ones left."
No, Vicky thought. Hauling it off is too easy. These people deserve else, she thought, as she stepped out from behind the hedge row.
-------
Roger saw the woman walk out from behind the hedge row. She was in bluish-grey dress with baby blue accents, hemmed at the upper thigh, and pair of alligator skin high heels. His eyes crawled slowly over her body. Her legs, tanned and strong, seemed to go on for miles. Her arms, too, were those of a fit young woman, maybe a yoga instructor or a gymnast. The dress left little room for the rest of her: a trim and toned torso fit easily within its confines, but the wide hips and head-turning bust were another matter entirely.
"You didn't answer my question," his girlfriend pressed. But there was unease in her nasal voice; she had seen the new woman.
"I traded the last one in because they..." He lost his train of thought on exceptional new creature in the blueish dress. "...they came out with a new model. It's superior to the last model."
He heard his girlfriend shifted her weight uncomfortably from one Prada shoe to the other. "What the fuck does that mean, 'superior'?" she snapped. "The last one would have been just fine for you."
The vixen in the blueish dress had begun a casual walk toward the couple. The elastic material of her dress stretched back and forth against the hard hourglass of her form. His eyes were lost in the woman's exceptional body.
"Why settle for 'fine' when you could have something better?" the mystery woman asked.
"The redesigned car is faster....", the mystery woman continued. The curves and sinews of the woman bare legs played magic with the sunlight.
"... it's got awesome, sleek lines..." The mystery woman smoothed her dress down over her inviting thighs.
"... and it's sex appeal is out of this world..." As she walked, the woman raised both hands to smooth back her hair, flattening the front of her dress against the unforgiving curves of her perfected body.
"... altogether, when you put it side-by-side with the old model, it's simply better in every way-- incredibly better."
Roger watched as his girlfriend cross her arms uncomfortably and stared at the new arrival, her gaze icing over with dread.
"Hard to say 'no' to improvement!" he amiably agreed. He wanted to make this new vixen happy. "That's how things are in life. We're always happy with the one model until a superior design arrives. And then we wonder, how did we ever manage to live with the crappy old version?"
"Roger, who the fuck is this?"
"Did I say something wrong, honey?" Roger's mind was in a pleasant fog right now. His girlfriend's face was in a scowl, but it almost always looked that way. But this new woman, if he kept talking to her, maybe she would smile. And that would be very, very nice.
The mystery woman sauntered up to him. Standing only a foot away, she appraised him up and down. Slowly, she placed her finger on his neck and allowed it to wander down to his collar bone. He felt himself inhale expectantly.
The enchanting vixen spoke to his girlfriend without looking at her. "Roger here is realizing that there's a new model on the lot-- awesome curb appeal and some big new features." The woman inhaled slightly, and the "V" of her neckline spread apart to reveal its exceptional contents.
The sweet scent of her breath wafted across him. He sighed involuntarily. He heard his girlfriend shifted her stance uncomfortably. Maybe his girlfriend would leave soon. That would be nice.
His girlfriend's voice saturated the air with jealousy and fear. "What do you want, bitch?"
"If you weren't so self-centered..." The new vixen cast the woman a dismissive glance. "... I wouldn't be enjoying this so much. It's not about what I want. It's about what Roger here wants..."
The vixen took half a step toward him and allowed her bust to rake gently across his chest. He loved the heft and feel of her breasts -- so much larger than the competition's, and yet they seemed completely natural, firm and soft in all the right ways. He felt a bead of sweat form on his forehead. She again fixed her gaze on him. "I think Roger here wants the new model, bitch."
His girlfriend's hand lashed out at the vixen. But the mystery vixen was faster, and instantly had the offending hand in a seemingly iron grip.
"Leave us," the new woman commanded. She seemed to press his girlfriend's fingers together, and he heard the POP of a finger bone breaking.
His girlfriend let out a surprised yelp and withdrew her hand. "Holy shit," she exclaimed, cradling her hand.
Roger never took his eyes off the vixen as he listened to the fearful click of Prada heels recede into the distance. "Bye, honey," Roger said robotically.
"I like your car," the new vixen whispered, her lips only half a kiss away. "How fast can it go?"
"Uh, about 200," he replied, still in a pleasant stupor.
"That's awesome!" She giggled. "200 miles per hour was something like a medium jog for me, but I guess it's quite fast for a car." She ran her hands up the side of his chest. "I'll take it."
"What... what do you mean?" he objected. Or, he tried.
The mesmerizing vixen waved off his question with dismissive flick of her wrist. "Is it in good condition?"
"Yea," he said, brightening. "I take great care of it."
"What if I don't believe you?" she teased her breath over his ear.
His response was thin and raspy. "Check it out for yourself."
"Well," the woman announced, backing away and striding toward the car. "The true test of ship-shape condition is whether the underside is clean." She bent over at the waist, giving him a perfect view the pertness of her derriere. She grabbed the front bumper, and with a deft flick of her arm, the car suddenly rose from the ground. She held it in one hand, vertically, with the front end pointed downward.
The girl had thousands of pounds bearing down on her superhuman arm. But her muscles seemed relaxed, and she had a delighted expression on her face.
The valet area erupted into exclamations as valet attendants and golfers reacted to the sudden show of superhuman strength.
A flick of her other arm rotated the car around so that the underside was facing her and the man. "Wow, that is pretty spotless! You win."
He remained silent, his mouth agape.
She approached him with a swagger, the car still balanced vertically in the palm of her hand. "A hot girl," she purred, "needs a hot car like this."
"You can hhhhold that?" he asked, taking a step away from the intimidating suspended mass.
"I'm really fucking strong," she laughed, taking a step backwards as well. She tossed the car in the air with a deft twist. It rotated to an upright position as it descended. She caught it on the way down, gently returning its wheels to earth.
"You have great taste in cars," she mused, crossing her arms and appreciating the car's slick lines and its low, menacing posture. With her arms crossed, her tits rose and commanded attention.
"I'll let you give it to me as a gift." Her smile was heavenly.
"But that's a $400,000 car," he objected, without conviction.
"So? The only reason you bought it was to impress other people. Come, let's talk in here for a moment" She took his hand and lead him through the clubhouse entry. A boardroom was immediately off the entryway, and it was empty. "All your rich friends probably have bought hot cars too, right? So it's really not that impressive. Right?"
"When you put it like that..." he began to concede. He didn't want her to be disappointed in him!
She pressed him slowly into the doorframe.
"How about you trade the car for some better bragging rights -- something you have done that your rich-ass friends haven't." Her melons pressed into him, enveloping his chest with their heaviness.
Roger's breath grew shallow.
Her hands explored his pockets, grazing his cock as she did so. "Are these the keys?" She extracted a hand and dangled a key fob in front of him.
He nodded, urgently.
She nibbled his lips, and felt his chest rise and expand with new desire. Her nipples bloomed into warm hardness as they gently raked across his chest.
She purred, "Say, 'Please, Vicky, can I give you my car?'"
This was stupid. But she was such an exceptional creature -- beauty beyond measure, strength beyond that. And she wanted to drive around in his car! He could only imagine the awe other guys would have, to know that he was in tight with a super-girl! He found himself mouthing the requested words: "Please, Vicky, can I give you my car?"
This Vicky kissed him lightly, letting her lips dance across his. "Of course you can, stud. I assume you'll insist on paying the insurance for me?"
"Of course." His voice was shaky.
"And the maintenance. You'd like to take care of that as well?"
He nodded, urgently.
"What a gentleman," she smiled. "And manners, I'll have you know, are a big turn-on." The woman gently kicked the boardroom door closed behind her.
Her sweet breath enlivened his senses as her lips curled into a satisfied smile. "I've never really been to this country club before. What do you usually play the first hole with? A wood?"
Her hand wandered down to his crotch, which now swelled needfully large. The delicacy of her touch sent him straining further.
"Oh, no," she giggled. "Looks like we'll be playing this hole with an iron."
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"Friction, like chafing?" Kim's face contorted in confusion. "I'm not allowed to save the shuttle because of chafing?"
"No, it's more serious than that," the NASA scientist explained as they strode the corridors together. "We're concerned that your body may burn up upon re-entry into the atmosphere as you try to bring the shuttle down."
This meeting in Cape Canaveral was a serious annoyance to Kim, and was throwing a huge wrench in the party planning. But she had to attend. The whole excuse for the party was to celebrate the supergirls' successful rescue of the shuttle. But in order to do that, they actually had to rescue the stupid shuttle.
And the task of rescuing was proving more complicated than Kim had expected. NASA insisted that she attend this pre-rescue briefing, and was withholding information on the orbital path and location of the shuttle until she complied. Fine, Kim had responded at the time, I'll just fly up there and look for the shuttle myself. Not so simple, they had replied, even with your super-vision. Without knowing where to look, finding that shuttle in orbit would be the equivalent of finding a quarter in a parking lot-- a 182,000-acre parking lot, to be exact. Oh, and the shuttle will appear pitch black when it's in shadow-- same as the background-- and it's moving at 17,000 miles per hour. NASA was nothing if not convincing with their statistics.
Kim supposed she could seduce one of them into giving her the orbital path information. But these guys were such a buzz kill, it totally put her in the wrong mood for sex. So, as last resort, she decided to do what they asked her to do: show up and listen.
"In order to prevent you from burning up on the descent, we have designed a protective suit. It's lined with several layers of ceramic tile-- the same thing the shuttle uses." They approached viewing area that looked out on the NASA testing range. Inside the viewing area with them, on a simple rack, hung the suit. "I know, it's not the most... uh, svelte outfit. So we dressed it up in a fun color for you."
Kim stared agape. It was hideous -- an enormous blob-shaped form comprised of ceramic tile squares, all colored a loud pink.
"There is NO WAY I'm wearing that," Kim scowled. "I'd look like a flamingo that just ate a beach ball!"
"Its for your own safety, and the safety of those you are rescuing."
"You want me to bring the shuttle down, in front of all the TV cameras, in that disgusting thing?"
The scientist was unperturbed. "Lives are on the line here. You need to do what it takes."
"Not if it means looking that gross."
"Then we're at an impasse," he replied stubbornly.
Kim sighed. Her huge breasts sent her t-shirt into contortions. She watched the scientist's lower lip quiver for a moment. He's putty in your hands, she reminded herself. They all are.
"What's that machine do?" Kim asked, thrusting her chin toward a window. A large horizontal cylinder-shaped device was outside, about 50 feet in length.
"It's a testing laser," he replied. He seemed grateful for the technical question-- a distraction from the effect she was beginning to have on him. "We use it to test the performance of heat shields for atmospheric re-entry. We used it, in fact, to test your suit."
"It's not going to be MY suit, buddy," she laughed. "It's going to be the dumpster's suit. What level did you heat it to?"
"This one," he replied, pointing at a position on the mean power lever. "The lever went from "0" to "10". His finger landed on "2". He elaborated, "That setting will heat objects to about 4,000 Fahrenheit, far greater than the maximum heat of re-entry."
"Turn it on," Kim demanded.
"I shouldn't," he replied, crossing his arms.
Kim sidled up to him, so close that her nipples touched his forearm. She shifted her weight to one leg, raking her hardening nubs across him.
"It would make me happy," she smiled brilliantly, and watched his upper body tremble.
"Ok, ok" he conceded. "I can give you a brief demonstration. Maybe it will even show you how important it is to use the suit."
He flipped the switch, and light began to emanate from the cylinder. The target of the laser was apparently a pile of cinder blocks.
When the laser fired, it did so magnificently: a vicious beam of orange. Cinderblocks began so smoke and sizzle. The point of the beam's impact was blindingly bright.
"Wow," Kim intoned distantly. "That's cool."
Within moments, a thin stream of molten rock began to flow away, sluggish and glowing like the lava of Hawaii volcanoes.
"Four thousand degrees fahrenheit," he explained. "That's twice the temperature of lava. An asteroid might be the size of a freight car when it enters the atmosphere, but the heat you are seeing will reduce the object to the size of a grapefruit by the time it reaches the ground. This would be deadly to you as well as to those on the shuttle you are rescuing."
"That's awesome," Kim said reverently.
"Excuse me?"
"The laser -- it looks totally awesome. I wanna go out and play with it."
"I can't let you out there," the scientist replied, eyeing the well bolted steel exterior door. "It's extremely dangerous out there."
Kim briefly examined the door. It looked heavy, several inches of steel. Thick locking bolts held the door in place. Nothing a few superpowered muscles can't handle, she sighed. Kim gave it a shove with both hands -- like a kid picking a fight in a playground. The door exploded away from her and cartwheeled down the testing range, clattering to the ground a hundred yards away.
Outside, the laser beam was now reducing the rock pile to glowing, molten sludge.
Kim was mesmerized by the bright orange of the beam. Its heat was inviting. And the fact that he was so scared -- that made it even more interesting. She began to saunter toward it.
The searing heat was palpable. From fifty yards away, it felt as though someone had pointed a hair dryer at her face.
"I'm going to de-activate the beam-- for your safety." The scientist remained inside, at the controls, but his voice echoed through speakers on the testing range.
Now twenty-five yards away from the beam, Kim felt as though she was walking into a furnace.
"But it looks like fun," Kim objected, turning to face him with a pout. She saw the scientist pause, his hands on the lever. "Don't you want to see my clothes burn off?"
"Very few materials on earth can survive that sort of heat. It would be irresponsible of me too let you approach--"
"But you want to be irresponsible don't you? You want to make me happy, don't you? And if you make me happy, you might have a chance to be irresponsible --- with me." Kim flooded her countenance with puppy dog eyes.
Suddenly, he seemed confused. She could see the man's resolve fading. His hand was on the shutoff switch, but it trembled wildly. She laughed to see the conflict on his face.
"Relax, and enjoy the view." Kim turned on her heels and let her hips sway invitingly as she further approached the beam. At ten yards out, her jeans, top and undergarments erupted into flame. The fire felt good as it lapped against her skin.
At five yards, her clothing was gone completely, and the brightness of the beam flooded her field of view.
The scientist objected, "This could get you killed! I can't allow..."
She turned to face him, and his voice trailed off. She watched his eyes go wide as he comprehended her nakedness for the first time. It never gets old, Kim told himself, to see how they react.
"You like what you see, don't you?"
He nodded, but the conflict remained on his face.
"Take your hand off the shutoff, and you can stare as long as you want."
Kim paused only yards from the beam, closer to it than any mortal could tread. In the middle of an active testing range, it was a strangely private moment . The ground was warm and squishy under her feet -- partially liquified from the intensity of the blast. She wriggled her toes playfully in the molten goo.
Tentatively, Kim reached toward the line of burning brightness in the air.
"No, please!" the chief scientist objected. "That's nearly as hot as the surface of the sun!"
"So?" Kim whispered to herself.
The tip of her pinky entered the beam first, interrupting it and causing an explosion of brightness. It was supposed to hurt a little, she knew, but instead it just felt delightfully hot -- a warmth more penetrating than she had ever experienced before, like her finger bones were being heated from the inside out.
Moments later, she dipped her hand into the beam, then her entire body. It danced playfully across her midriff, her arms, her legs. Everywhere it went, deeply penetrating warmth bloomed inside of her.
"Are you enjoying the view?" she asked the controller. She raised her arms as if she were in the shower, and felt her massive breasts rise gently with the motion.
"I... I am." He seemed conflicted, perhaps disappointed in his own lack of professional control. She watched him steady himself against the window frame, like a seasick person on a boat.
"It's ok," Kim assured. "You've never seen sex appeal like this before. Your mind is having a hard time processing it."
Kim directed a nipple into the beam, and reveled in the absurdity of her power. Hot as the surface of the sun, he had said -- surely it was hot enough to melt anything on earth. No creature of natural origin could survive even approaching the beam, let alone being struck by it, let alone allowing it to assault her most delicate parts. And yet, what would have annihilated any other creature was nothing more than pleasant to Kim's supernatural body.
"Ooooohhhhh!" she moaned with glee as the laser poured heat and light into her quickly engorging flesh.
"More!" she demanded cheerily, looking to his hand on the control panel.
"No, I simply will not---"
"MORE." Kim voice was an earthquake of seduction.
The scientist was steadying himself with both hands as he took in the unreal spectacle of her body.
"Move the handle, and your eyes can linger on my body for longer," she soothed.
Slowly, his trembling hands went to the controls. 3-4-5 -- the handle finally stopped a "6".
The beam was now three times as intense as it had been. Her other nipple, ignored until now, yearned for attention. She twisted her torso and brought it into the fiery beam of light. "Whoooa ----- oooohhhh!" she screamed in delight.
Kim giggled to herself to realize this beam could vaporize almost every substance known to man. And yet, to her, it was no more than a gratifying warmth. Everything on this earth was so vastly inferior to her!
Carefully, now, Kim ascended from the ground, spreading her legs wide as she did so. The beam, fixed in its aim, crawled from breasts to her midriff and then lower as she slowly rose. With extreme will power, she kept her flight steady as the hot pencil of light piled gratifying heat into her midriff, all the while crawling closer to her sex.
Turning to the control room, she begged, "push it all the way."
"Are you..." The scientist was having a hard time forming words. "Are you... kidding? That temperature would be five times the surface of the sun!"
"Ohhhhhhh my gosh," she moaned deeply as the beam got tantalizingly close to her clitoris. The depth of her voice made the equipment in the yard tremble. Other scientists had arrived by now. Even at their safe distance, they seemed to reel at her voice and its needful power.
Kim cocked an inquiring eyebrow at her friend in the control room and playfully motioned upward with her index finger. He shook. It seemed he could no longer contain the desire that battered his senses, and she watched happily as he began to move the lever forward, his saucer-wide eyes transfixed on her perfect body. The beam became delightfully, blisteringly hot.
She spread her nether lips with her fingers, and then centered her body perfectly on the beam, inviting the searing light inside of her.
"This...." she gasped.
The laser increased its intensity, channeling a torrent of power into her most private parts.
"feels..." she gasped gain.
Warmth and heat bloomed between her legs, as the sensations grew and grew.
"incredible!" gasped finally.
She moaned loudly. The extreme pleasures of orgasm began to overtake her.
And then it hit. "Ooooohaaaahho MY G--D!!!"
Her ecstasy-filled voice exploded across the testing range. Equipment shuddered before settling back into place. Pavement cracked. At the control room, the window snapped into a spider web of fissures.
---------
The scientist felt himself unable to tear his gaze from the astounding woman, unable even to clear his head. It wasn't just the hard lines of her perfected athleticism. It wasn't just her rapturously beautiful face, with its almond brown eyes, high cheekbones and full lips. It wasn't even ribald buoyancy of her breasts. It was her aura -- beautiful and fierce -- the epitome of desire and power rolling into one literally scorching package.
The shock wave of her orgasm had jostled and dislodged the laser, and the beam had sputtered to a halt.
It was several minutes after her resounding climax that the woman finally floated back to earth.
Her body -- naked and magnificent, statuesque and on full display -- glowed with the heat of the beam. Wherever she stepped, steam rose off the ground. To stare at her was to look through layers of undulating air as the extreme heat cascaded off of her.
She walked absentmindedly for toward him. Other men scampered out from behind heat shields, but then quickly backed away from her, unable to withstand the heat that emanated. How was this woman even possible, he wondered to himself? Her skin must have been heated to thousands of degrees, and yet she was relaxed, happy.
As she passed a parked car, it exploded into flame, its paint and upholstery succumbing to the violent temperatures her presence created. The girl glanced at the burning vehicle without interest. She appeared to be well accustomed to a life where the things and people that surrounded her simply crumbled in her presence.
"Do you have any lingering concerns about me?" she teased with a sway of her hips.
He tried to say something, but his throat was too parched. He simply shook his head. Her voice was an elixir that he wished he could sip forever.
He remained several yards away-- as close as he could get without boiling his skin. The woman stretched casually. Her over-generous bust heaved and shifted. The movement sending another insufferable wave of heat at him.
She gesticulated toward the laser, charring the grass over which her arm passed. "That laser thing is awesome. Do you know how it's built?"
"Yes, I designed it."
She smoothed her hands over her luxurious thighs. "Would you like to supervise the construction of a second one, for me?"
"What sort of use would you have for a laser that would melt rocks? As a weapon?"
"No, silly. As a toy."
He hesitated to respond. He couldn't leave a career in rocket science to build a sex toy, not matter how attractive the customer.
"It would make me happy," she clarified. Her perfected facial features transformed into a smile, a withering blast of sexual energy that turned his spine to liquid.
The scientist knew what his answer would be -- before his mind was even able to form the words.