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Blogger & the Football Team (feat. Conceptfan) Part 2

Written by Totally Kyle :: [Tuesday, 16 November 2021 17:11] Last updated by :: [Wednesday, 17 November 2021 12:13]

Blogger and the Football Team, Day 2

The bold text was written by Conceptfan. The regular text was written by me. This was written on the fly in the span of 5 hours and 43 minutes.


The fact that she's raping him without touching the floor feels like the cherry on top of the complete superiority this woman has over him. Even if it is, admittedly, incredibly erotic, it's yet another reminder that he is so far beneath this woman that there was nothing he could ever do against her from the very start. But just as he is once again thinking that it can't get any worse, he immediately feels himself being overwhelmed by her beauty and is about to cum inside her mere seconds after she goes down on him. But then, he finds his dick somehow being squeezed by a set of vaginal walls that are so impossibly tight that it's stopping his release! He instinctively tries to free his dick from the painfully tight prison between her legs, but his spent body gives out after a few mere seconds and flops back down uselessly to the floor. He's too exhausted to fight back… not that it even mattered in the first place.

Meanwhile, her next pair of victims are more terrified than the last. They've seen what this woman has done to their friends, as well as what she is continuing to do because it looks like nothing can stop her. They can only crawl on their knees and pray that they survive this.

At the same time, that athlete at the front of the bus, scared out of his wits, makes a run for it. Even though he doesn't see any place where he can go, his terrified brain is only focusing on one single hope:

Maybe speed isn't one of her powers.

I can hear the guy huffing and puffing as he climbs his way through the broken window at the front of the bus. He isn't even in the top ten of my initial scan, so I decide to not to interrupt the fun I'm currently enjoying to deal with him. He's now, of course, right at the bottom of the list. I know, even if he sets a new world record for running, that I can find and capture him in seconds. Giving him a head start right now is just adding to my sport later. With every passing minute, I'm more and more pleased that this bus nearly splashed me with a puddle. It's proving to be a very pleasant diversion.

The two nice-looking ones crawling nervously towards me are not within reach yet. I mean, I could freeze them solid with a casual exhalation or turn them to ash with just a flash of my eyes, but I wasn't playing that game at the time. I wasn't trying to kill them, I was fucking them. If they ended up killed, that was fine, as long as I'd had some fucking first. So I gave them a little more time to reach me. I could tell they were more scared than hypnotised by my superhuman sexual appeal so I made a point of catching the eyes of each of them in turn and pushing out my lips as if offering a kiss and winking seductively, just to make sure they were as overwhelmed by desire as they were by fear. Boys are a lot more amusing to play with when their minds are constantly being blown in different ways.

Whilst I listened to the quickening of their heartbeats that told me I had succeeded in firing their lust to new levels, I started to generate a nice, steady up-and-down rhythm on number 2. He was no longer fighting me now, lying passive and exhausted, perhaps completely broken in spirit. I carefully grabbed his chin and titled it dominantly towards me as I leant in, letting my hair fall onto his face. I stared into his eyes, still undulating my hips, drawing my sex up and down his length whilst maintaining my controlling grip. I moved my lips closer to him, making sure my mouth almost filled his vision, gifting him the close-up sight of my perfect lips and my sexy teeth . "I own you completely," I told him, letting my warm, fragrant breath blast his features.

After being manhandled into her line of sight once again, number 2 briefly doesn't even know how to respond to that assumption. It takes his tired brain a few moments to even realize that it wasn't even an 'assumption', it was a statement. And as he struggled to find some response to her; any response to her, he slowly started to believe that it was true. In fact, in the brief moment where he was forced to stare into her captivating eyes and feel her warm breath waft over his face, his desire to burst inside of this sex goddess made itself even more clear.

His lip start to tremble. His throat starts to swell up. And slowly but surely, he just starts to cry, because he knows deep down that this woman does own him completely. And even worse than that is the fact that his body wants to be owned by her, no matter how completely and utterly unfair it is that this is his fate now.

My superhuman nostrils detect the fact he is about to cry many seconds before the first tear even appears. I keep my face so close to his as I continue to grind up and down on him, knowing I have long since pushed him past the point of orgasm, and that I am now merely holding him on the brink for my pleasure. And amusement. The tears are the final sign that I have achieved a dominance over him so complete, so wide-ranging, so absolute, that he has ceased to exist in his own right, and now merely exists as a product of my whim.

I lean in, slowly, sensuously parting my lips, showing my teeth for a moment before, with deliberate care, extending my tongue. Making sure I barely hurt him, I languidly lick a few of the tear drops from his face. Even his despair is mine.

The taste of complete defeat stirs something in me. I decide to release my inner hold, and let his jets of built-up come shoot into me, the sensation as his body jerks violently in what is surely the most intense orgasm of his life by a factor of 10, actually stimulating me into a mini pre-orgasm of my own. Quickly, though the series of pulses of cum dies down to nothing. Just as I'm now finally getting really in the mood. The man beneath me is spent, exhausted and broken in so many ways. X-ray vision reveals he's physically broken too with a fractured pelvis. I wasn't even pounding him hard! But right now he is finished as a plaything, and I need more. More. Now.

I look up at the next two approaching on all fours.

The next two men were still feeling more horny than scared, because that one seductive look she gave them earlier stirred up even more powerful emotions inside of them than the sight of their second friend being raped into unconsciousness before their eyes. They continue to crawl towards her with equal parts of fear and desire.

But then, a third man, one of the fat defensive linemen, stands up.

He's had enough of watching his friends be raped by this sick woman. He doesn't know what the hell she is or how the hell she seems to be so strong, but he's decided that enough is enough.

"On 'three', everybody tackle her" he orders. "She can't beat all of us."

Almost everybody on the bus hesitates at first, but they all start to stand, as well.

I'd been expecting an uprising at some point

When you've raped as many buses full of men as I have… sports teams, prison transfers, soldiers being moved to bases or front-lines, priests on day trips…. you start to notice patterns. Sometimes, they don't really revolt until there's only a few left and they finally realise there's a strong chance they aren't going to make it out alive. Sometimes it's right near the start when I kill the driver in front of them to set the mood…

"One" shouted the fat rebel leader as he stood up. The pair on their knees hesitated with all the shuffling and movement behind them. The men were getting up, sliding out of the seats and beginning to fill the corridor of the bus.

I did nothing. "Two" he said, his voice wavering a little, seemingly gaining confidence from the show of support all around him, and also losing it due to the unnerving nature of my show of disinterest.

I waited until the last moment. Until as many of them had got into the corridor as were going to join the rebellion. Until the fat man started to call out the final attack cue.

"Thr-" he began

At that moment, I pursed my ripe lips and effortlessly blew at the nearest men in the aisle. The power of my lazy breath hit the men at the front and pushed them back instantly. They hit the ones behind. My breath simply overpowered those as well, pushing the new bigger clump into those further down the aisle, the increasing mass of 'big, strong' helpless naked men still no challenge whatsoever to the force of my exhalation. In less than two seconds, I had nearly thirty men pinned to the back of the bus and I wasn't even putting any effort into my puff. If anything, I was holding back so as not to squeeze the group of men too hard between the rear of the transport and the wall of my breath.

As they struggled against the hurricane that pushed them with more strength than they could muster with their bodies combined, I made a point of showing them how comfortable and dominant I felt dealing so easily with their revolt by placing both of my hands on my hips. For good measure, I leant a little towards them, thrusting out my breasts as I continued to gently channel a tornado through my lips.

The men closest to the super woman were unexpectedly blown off of their feet right before they were about to charge. And everybody behind them were unexpectedly blown off of their feet due to being bowled over by the bodies in front of them. Within seconds, everybody was screaming in pain from the crushing weight of her gale. The men at the front were struggling against a wall of air that feels just as immovable as a wall of bricks. And as you got further and further to the back of the line of naked men, the screams of pain got louder and louder. The guys in the back had it the worst, as they were being crushed underneath the weight of about thirty other men, half of them well above average weight. One of their noses breaks. Another one feels like his bending ribs are about to crack at any moment. Desperate struggling and pain screaming fills the back half of the bus.

I can hear the creaking and cracking of bones even above the roar of my super breath because I'm listening for it with my superhuman hearing. It's what tells me, not that I am blowing too hard, but rather that I have a decision to make. No outside force in existence can persuade me one way or the other. The decision is mine, and purely mine, and the sheer idea of it existing, thrills me. At that moment, I have to decide whether to keep on blowing as softly as I am and have a few more ribs and noses break, and maybe a suffocation or two at the back of the crowd, to stop blowing altogether and allow the men a chance to breathe and survive - for the moment anyway - or to just start blowing a tiny bit harder and to start hearing whole skeletons crumble and see bodies pressured into bursting under my power.

I decide that it'd be more fun to rape them than to murder them all with just a puff of breath. So for that reason, and no other, they are all still alive when I close my lips. The end of the hurricane causes most of them to stagger forwards. Some slump to the ground, gasping for air. None of them look like they are keen to attack me, but I feel like making sure of their cooperation from here on in.

I float up from the floor, this time raising my hands above my head, arching my back and bending my knee to show off my beauty. With my palms upturned I press them into the roof of the bus, listening to the way the thin metal groans under stresses it was not manufactured to resist. I'm careful, applying my flight powers little by little, letting the roof bubble slightly above my hands but not tearing right through it. The whole bus judders for a moment as I take command of it away from the forces of gravity. The men at the back are still recovering from being gently blown at but I can see the two at the front, still on their knees, have noticed. They glance at each other in shock and terror. I continue to exercise my powers of flight with my hands pressed against the roof of the bus from the inside.

Gradually, the ones nearest the windows start to notice. The shock and panic spreads fast through the team. I'm holding the bus, under the power of my wonderful body, a thousand feet above the road. It's effortless for me too. The huge vehicle with its steel chassis and its big engine, the forty larger-than-average men… I could hold it in the sky like that forever. Although the flimsy roof would probably fail pretty quickly…

"Feel free to leave if you don't want to play my game anymore," I tell them. No-one moves. The frame of the bus creaks above me. The wind howls through the smashed windscreen.

SPOILER Bus Lift

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