Written by LustMonster :: [Tuesday, 21 June 2016 23:32] Last updated by :: [Friday, 23 September 2016 20:04]
A galaxy spanned the midnight sky.
Flaming balls of light beyond count cast their glow across light years of nothingness. An infinitesimal sliver of that ancient light mixed with the brighter light from the full moon to bathe the desert floor just north of Special Weapons Research Base. It dimly illuminated the naked bodies of two mighty muscle goddesses in repose.
Lieutenant Wendy DeKalb and Commander Barbara Wallace lay intertwined on the blasted desert soil. The walls of the newly formed crater rose up all around them to a height of several meters. Beyond its edge, great heaps of dirt and rock gave testament to the immense forces that had gouged out this great bowl in the middle of the desert.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” the Commander moaned.
“Oh goody, then I can become Commander and boss everyone around,” Wendy replied in a hoarse whisper, her lips brushing against her lover’s massive trapezius muscle. She had a hand clamped around one of the Commander’s huge breasts, her fingers curled deeply into it.
The Commander chuckled. “Sorry my love, I think our President would have other ideas regarding my replacement. Besides, you already get to boss people around.”
The two superwomen fell silent for a few minutes. Then Wendy raised her free hand, pointing her index finger nearly straight up.
“No, that’s Vega.” The Commander reached up and gently grabbed the lieutenant’s thick forearm, and guided her finger a small distance across the sky. “That’s Altair. And over here …”
She pushed Wendy’s arm in a different direction, tracing out the third side of a triangle.
“Deneb. And if I had my binoculars with me, we could see some sweet star clusters there, there, and there.”
Wendy sighed and gazed up at the veil of stars wistfully.
“Do you think we’ll ever go back into space?”
The Commander shrugged. “I doubt that anyone has sent up a rocket in decades. It’s too damn difficult collecting all the stuff necessary to make the propellant. No more global network to communicate with a rocket after it’s launched. There’s just no one entity in the world big enough to do it anymore.”
Wendy sighed again.
Beyond the rim of their own personal crater, somebody coughed.
Both muscle goddesses swiveled their heads toward the sound. “Who’s there?” the bigger of the two growled.
A female voice timidly replied, “Excuse me, Commander?”
A head appeared above the rim, silhouetted against the stars.
Wendy and the Commander gazed up at her. They were both still quite naked, and not making any attempt to cover themselves.
“Yes?” the Commander asked brusquely.
The young woman’s voice was barely a squeak now.
“Um, the sergeant sent me with a message for you.”
“Yes?” the Commander rumbled.
“She said, oh, she said, ummm, these were her words, ummm …”
“Um, she said, next time you two want to, um, ‘fucking obliterate the planet’s surface’, please do it further from the convoy. The blasts are ‘fucking up our delicate instruments’, she said. Her words, ma’am. Please don’t hurt me …”
Wendy had to bite the back of her own hand to stop herself from laughing, as she glanced at her Commander’s scowling face. The poor young lady, who seemed to be trying to shrink into the ground at the crater’s edge, must have thought she was about to get blasted by death rays from the Commander’s glaring eyeballs.
“Oh, the sergeant said that, did she?” The Commander’s voice dripped with I-pick-my-teeth-with-the-bones-of-messengers menace. “And who are you, anyway?”
“Um, W-Wendy Aames, ma’am.”
“Um, civilian, ma’am. I, um, I’m one of the people you rescued.”
“Ah. Yes. Well, please return to the sergeant and inform her that we are on our way back. And tell her that I’m going to grind her into sergeant pâté with my mighty fists, spread her on toast, and enjoy washing her down with my morning coffee. Those words, Miss Aames.”
The young lady scurried away as fast as her feet would carry her over the uneven desert soil.
When she was well out of earshot, the muscle goddesses burst into laughter.
“Poor thing,” Wendy said after she had reigned in her mirth. “Why did the sergeant send her?”
“Sergeant DiCaprio has people trying to find things for the rescued civvies to do. Put them to work, something to help them get over the trauma of being captured and entombed in those awful cocoons. I guess she’s enlisted that one as her own assistant or something. Sheesh, another Wendy!”
“What’s wrong with ‘Wendy’?” sniffed Wendy.
“Well, at least the two of you aren’t difficult to tell apart,” the Commander replied. “Come on, don your outfit and let’s get back. I’m eager to roll this truckin’ convoy.”
The two of them gathered up the torn scraps of their leotards and slapped them onto their massive bodies. The nanothread fiber weaved itself back together, giving them that peculiarly erotic thrill again as it flowed across their skin. Then they climbed out of their delightfully manufactured crater.
Before them, half a kilometer distant, the Expedition stretched out along the road, seemingly all the way to the horizon on their right. Glimmering lights betrayed feverish activity, despite the early morning hour. Way down the line they could see a large clump of vehicles gathering next to the column: new SSCATS, being constructed right there in huge mobile factory vans. The lieutenant had been generating so much scrap metal with her enthusiastic clearing of roadblocks that the existing fleet of armored scrap-compacting-and-transport trucks was completely full, necessitating the need to grow the fleet on the spot.
Most of the armored vans in the line were now linked together with thick cables, recharging their batteries for the day’s journey ahead. Everything was electric now; there just wasn’t enough oil available anymore to pour it down the greedy gullets of combustion engines. Several especially large vehicles distributed among the convoy carried advanced, self-contained thorium reactors that provided the power to charge everything else.
As the two superwomen approached the lead van, a figure in full battle fatigues stepped down from its driver’s side door. An ample bosom and trendy cropped blonde hair betrayed the staff sergeant’s gender. She beamed as she held up a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of toast smeared with butter and liverwurst, the Commander’s favorite on-the-go breakfast. The Commander growled as she accepted the proffered goodies.
“I guess I’ll spare your miserable life for the time being, sergeant.”
“What about me?” Wendy asked plaintively as she eyed the Commander’s breakfast.
“Don’t fret, ma’am, I’ve got something for you too.”
Sergeant DiCaprio dug into a pack clipped to her utility belt and brought out …
Lieutenant Wendy DeKalb clapped her hands in glee and lunged for …
… a clear plastic bag of peanut brittle.
“It’s not that stuff in the white box you like so much, ma’am, but I think it will get you by.”
Wendy tore into the bag and greedily consumed its contents (and possibly bits of the bag as well).
“Where did you get this?” she said, her words slurred by the mouthful of brittle.
“I made it,” the sergeant replied. “Thought the skill might come in handy if I ever manage to piss you off, and I need to bargain for my ‘miserable life’.”
“This will definitely tilt the scale in your favor,” Wendy replied with a grin as she wiped sticky stuff and peanut bits off her lips.
“Status, sergeant?” the Commander queried.
“I estimate batteries at full charge within the next thirty minutes. Thirteen new SSCATs have been added to the fleet. We consumed the contents of two SSCATs to make them, so we now have fifteen available to scoop up the lieutenant’s carnage. Personally, ma’am, I don’t think even the two of you going full tilt could fill them up today.”
“Is that a challenge?”
The Commander flexed a monstrous bicep, and the sergeant gazed at it dreamily for a few seconds before she could reply.
“Uh, no ma’am. Just an observation.”
“Lieutenant, did you hear that? I think the sergeant here issued a challenge.”
Wendy bunched up her own bicep. Not quite as massive as her Commander’s, but it still drew a very appreciative gaze from Amy DiCaprio, and the Commander as well. The lieutenant pressed her arm against her Commander’s, so the sergeant could lose her mind with both blasting biceps side-by-side in her field of view.
“I’m not doubting you two can provide the, um, throughput necessary. The problem is that the scout drones are reporting less debris on the road ahead, compared to what we’ve been encountering so far.”
Wendy looked crestfallen.
“I wonder, ma’am,” the sergeant continued, “if someone else has been collecting scrap as well.”
The Commander nodded. “I’m pretty sure Palmdale hasn’t, as they have contracted with us to do the work for them. They don’t have a crazy lieutenant to produce the fine scrap for them, nor the equipment to pick it up and process it. Therefore, half of our SSCATs will be heading their way when we return. But I suspect there are others nearby who recognize the value of all this metal lying around. I’d put my money on scavengers out of Bakersfield, or somewhere north of it. Anything else, sergeant?”
“No, ma’am. Just waiting to top off the batteries, then we’re good to go.”
“Very well, then. As soon as we’re charged, move us out. Route 58 to the Route 223 turnoff, with a stop at the Mojave airport. Redeploy all available GMUs, same search pattern, but wider dispersal. Let’s try to at least double our mapping width, wherever we have the room.”
Sergeant DiCaprio climbed back into the lead vehicle’s cab. The Commander lead Wendy to the rear door, where the two of them re-entered the Commander’s mobile office that took up the rear half of the vehicle.
“I suspect, lieutenant,” the Commander said as she seated herself in her sumptuous leather executive chair, “that if scavengers are nabbing the debris up ahead, it will be the smaller stuff, easier for them to chop and haul. The big juicy tidbits should still be there for you to sink your lovely body into.”
Wendy beamed at that. Then her curiosity drove her to ask, “why are we going to Bakersfield?”
“We’re not, lieutenant, at least not directly. We’ll be skirting south of it on 223, then stopping at the 99. From there we will send out scouts to look the place over and find out why we have not heard from anyone there in over a month. Frankly, I fear the boundary of the so-called ‘Wastelands’ has moved significantly further north.”
“And the airport? Are we flying somewhere?”
The Commander laughed. “Sorry, lieutenant, no holiday trip for us, I’m afraid. But the Mojave airport was also used as a ‘boneyard’ for retired aircraft. Assuming scavengers have not already emptied the place, there should be plenty of old aircraft we can salvage for scrap. I suspect a certain lieutenant of mine might enjoy picking the wings off of those extremely large flies …”
The Commander winced as the little girl inside the hulking body of her lieutenant squealed joyfully.
“Please don’t do that again, lieutenant! Even my all-mighty eardrums have their limits.”
The two of them discussed various operational details concerning the drive ahead, then stopped as they felt the van lurch and begin to move forward.
“All right then. Get out there, lieutenant, and do that voodoo that you do so well.”
Wendy grinned as she eagerly hopped to her feet and exited the vehicle.
The Commander relaxed in her chair for a few minutes, gazing out the window at the desert speeding by. Then she gestured with her hand, activating the holographic viewer built into her desk. Flicking her finger sideways in front of the floating image, she paged through the waiting messages in her inbox. Flick, flick, flick …
Her finger stopped in mid-flick, and her face registered surprise as she scanned a particular message that was tagged “URGENT”. With another hand gesture, she started playing the video clip that was attached to the message.
The video was from a flying drone that had been hovering several hundred meters above what appeared to be a vast industrial complex in the process of being utterly annihilated.
A refinery? A factory? Military base?
The Commander was not sure. She leaned forward in her chair, trying to make out more details.
Many of the large buildings in the complex were on fire or reduced to smoking ruins. Things of various sizes moved along the debris-choked roads between them: people, small vehicles, large vehicles, and massive rectangles with long skinny things protruding from one end.
Tanks? If so, those are really BIG—
A fresh explosion engulfed one of the remaining structures in the middle of the complex. Great chunks of metal and concrete blasted out of the fire and smoke, and parts of its roof collapsed, sucking down a large smokestack along with it. The ruined building suddenly grew bigger in the video as the drone zoomed in on it. People were visibly fleeing the collapsing building, while others massed along neighboring streets. Many appeared to be soldiers in full battle gear.
Shit, is that …??
The Commander gripped her chair’s armrests hard enough to crush the steel inside them.
In the video, someone had just crashed right through one wall of the ruined building, sending debris crashing through the walls of neighboring buildings. The figure now stood in the middle of the street, amidst a group of clearly panicking soldiers. The figure was holding something long and huge, casually swinging it like a baseball bat.
The surveillance drone quickly descended, and its camera zoomed in on the blonde musclebeast.
She was tall, with long blonde hair. She was nearly naked, wearing only a skimpy two-piece that seemed amazingly intact, despite the hellish conditions it was enduring. And the woman was built, easily in the same league as the lieutenant, if not the Commander herself.
The thing she held was some massive metal rod, perhaps an entire iron girder, and she quickly set about slashing it through everything (and everyone) within reach.
The Commander could clearly see the sexy musclebeast’s facial expression in the shaky video: absolute savage joy.
The huge blonde muscle goddess began to walk. No, she began to strut. Her monstrous arm swung the giant bat through the throng of terror-stricken soldiers that were desperately trying to get out of her way, slicing them in half. She arrived at some sort of armored personnel carrier and began beating on it with her giant metal stick. The carrier’s thick armor was no match for her savagery, rapidly disintegrating under each monstrous blow. The girder itself was becoming bent and warped until it no longer served its purpose to the rampaging goddess’s satisfaction, and soon the snarling musclebeast tossed it aside (sending it crashing right through a parked truck, causing it to explode in its own great fireball). She resorted to her unstoppable fists to finish the job of reducing the once-massive armored carrier to nothing but tiny pieces of jagged scrap.
The video shook and refocused as the drone flying above the carnage struggled to center the crazed muscle goddess in the frame.
Something streaked in from the right side of the frame and impacted on her chest. The resulting explosion knocked her back against the wall (partially embedding her body in it), but she remained on her feet. She blasted her muscles outward in a most-muscular crouch as she roared her defiance at whatever had launched that missile at her.
Forgetting to breathe for a moment, the Commander sent one hand to her own huge breast, grabbing and twisting the thick nipple under her leotard.
In the video, the blonde beauty suddenly charged out of the frame. The drone’s camera reacquired her just as her massive body plowed into the front of one of the enormous tanks the Commander had noticed earlier.
The Commander stretched her nipple hard, tearing it right through the fabric of her leotard as she twisted it around her index finger. The nanothread fabric tried to repair itself, but could not do so while her fingers were still mauling her nipple and surrounding areola. Her other hand tore into her helpless chair’s armrest. She unconsciously peeled a long thin strip of steel out of it and wrapped it around her massive forearm. The tortured steel howled pitifully.
The helpless tank in the video ballooned like a snake that had just swallowed something larger than itself. It bounced violently up and down on its treads, and its sides blew outward like puffing cheeks as incredible forces acted upon it from within. Then its entire top turret folded upward from the rear, doubling up on itself as the massive gun barrel sagged downward, the tip striking the ground. The head and upper torso of the busty destructress popped up behind the crumpled turret, her hands sunk deep into its thick armor as she crumpled it more and more. Her face still wore that same savage grin as she visibly thrilled in her immense power. That damn unbreakable bikini was still there, straining to contain the woman’s mammoth melons as they jiggled and heaved, but otherwise no worse for wear.
The goddess’s skin visibly rippled with small indentations. She was now taking heavy fire, with steel-jacketed slugs crashing against her super sexy chest, tummy, and back. The woman just ignored them (or more likely enjoyed them) as she continued to have her way with the tortured steel underneath and in front of her.
Something else struck the rampaging destructress now: a directed energy beam so bright the surveillance drone’s camera had to quickly adjust its exposure level to adapt. The beam cut through the rear of the hapless tank like a knife through warm butter before finding its intended target. It blasted steadily against the blonde superwoman’s rock-hard ass, actually causing her flexing butt cheeks to glow in the same bright yellow-orange as the beam itself.
The Commander moaned softly as she imagined the incredible sensations the blonde muscle goddess must have been experiencing at that moment: the constant pelting from heavy arms fire that should have torn her body to shreds, the energy beam of unknown but surely incredible destructive strength, the shrieks and wails of tortured steel and armor being inexorably crushed like soft clay in the musclebeast’s fists and torn asunder by her overwhelming muscle power.
Ohhhhh fuck, I need to stop watching this …
The blonde savage glanced up and spotted the surveillance drone. She bellowed at it while pumping her colossal muscles. Then she tore free a great chunk of turretflesh and hurled it over her shoulder behind her to obliterate whatever was blasting her with the energy beam. That was immediately followed by another massive chunk of armor hurled straight at the drone. The impromptu missile quickly grew to fill the frame, then the video abruptly ended.
The Commander sagged. One hand tightly gripped her huge tit, and the other hand continued to unravel steel from her late armrest, winding it around her wrist as a jagged bracelet.
“Fuck me,” she groaned.
She released her swollen nipple and gestured to close the message. Its subject line had read: TSARINA LATEST LRSD SIGHTING.
About a kilometer ahead, Lieutenant Wendy DeKalb delighted in her own brand of casual destruction.
The Commander and the sergeant had been correct: there was indeed less debris scattered along the road in this area. What remained was nearly all large trucks and even some military vehicles, full of delicious thick metal for her to crush against her super body and rip to shreds with her mighty hands and arms. She was in seventh heaven, skipping merrily from roadblock to roadblock. She mangled and crushed helpless roadblocks with wanton annihilation frenzy, leaving plenty of useful scrap along the sides of the road for the SSCATS to collect and process.
The convoy seemed to be making great progress now. The GMUs had not found anything of interest to stop for, which was both good and bad in Wendy’s mind. Good because they would get to their destination quicker, and Wendy was really curious to see how one of the old surviving cities was faring these days. Bad because they weren’t rescuing any more cocooned captives of the aberrants that were scurrying through underground tunnels and warrens far beyond the known boundaries of the Wastelands. Each rescued captive was, in her head, like one of those marks that pilots painted on their fighters in those nearly-century-old WW2 movies. A way of keeping score. The more helpless civilians they saved from whatever horrible fate they had in store for them, the happier the lieutenant was.
The long line of vehicles had turned off of the base’s northern access road some time ago. It now proceeded west on Route 58, a divided four-lane highway. Though she really only needed to clear the two westbound lanes so that the convoy could proceed unimpeded, Wendy delighted in attacking and brutalizing all the wreckage scattered across the entire highway, piling the scraps along the median for collection.
Wendy was still not encountering any human remains in the wreckage. She would have to remember to inform the Commander of that the next time they were together …
At the edge of her vision, something incongruous caught her attention. She ceased her wanton annihilation of a poor helpless cement mixer (containing an enjoyable load of hard, heavy cement) to look across the road at a large tanker truck that was lying jackknifed on its side.
What was so spec— Oh!
As she stared at the trailer, it shook.
It shook again.
What the hell?
Wendy fearlessly walked toward it.
The rear wall of the tanker seemed to have been torn open; great petals of jagged steel pointed outward along its edge. As she approached it, the whole trailer heaved again, then stilled.
The lieutenant reached the side of the trailer and gently rapped its curved steel wall with her knuckle.
“Hello? Any scary beasties here? Please come out and play! My delicate body is so tasty and helpless …”
She dragged her fingertips along the tanker’s side as she walked toward its battered rear, leaving several long gashes in the steel behind her.
Rounding the edge, she peered into the baking hot darkness.
The super muscle goddess got her wish.
Huge tentacles whipped out from within the trailer and wrapped around Wendy’s chest and hips. She immediately went limp, eager to maximize her dire peril, and found herself savagely yanked inside the tanker.
Streams of sticky fluid blasted against her body, coating her with a rapidly thickening and hardening shell. Whatever was entombing her did not stop at the usual two-foot thickness she had encountered before. This time, the stuff just kept coming and coming as the tentacles rapidly spun her body like a spider spins its prey while wrapping it in silk thread.
Finally, the spinning stopped. Wendy felt her now very solid cocoon being shoved forward within the trailer until it banged hard against something, presumably the front wall. The substance that encased her was so thick that its outer edges scraped against the inner wall of the tanker on all sides.
The stuff around her was so dense, so strong, could it even be broken …
Wendy blasted her muscles as she suddenly arched her back and whipped her arms straight out. The substance around her cracked and popped loudly as it expanded against the steel shell of the tanker. The enclosing steel screamed in agony as it bowed outward and then ripped open. The sensations of her incredible muscles breaking apart all this super strong material sent waves of ecstasy straight to her brain, bringing her perilously close to orgasm. She did not want to go there now, for it would likely result in the absolute annihilation of everything around her for a dozen meters, including this very valuable specimen …
The furious creature howled too, and the streams of sticky stuff came blasting at her again even as the super muscle goddess ripped away the dense shell material still clinging to her body.
Wendy reached out and grabbed fistfuls of tanker skin, then tore it into two long strips as she advanced toward whatever was hitting her with the streams of thick goop. Tentacles whipped toward her, so she smacked the two sheets of steel together in front of her like giant cymbals, smashing the scaly appendages into twitching goo. The massive thing in front of her howled again as she jumped on its spiky back and began to pull the great wads of steel she still clutched in each mighty fist down around the panicking horror. Tortured steel and flailing abbie screamed and howled together in a delightful duet, as the mighty lieutenant spun a cocoon of her own.
Two minutes later the lieutenant stood alongside the great ball of torn and crushed steel, happy as a cat that had just caught a fat mouse. She was breathing heavily, not from physical exhaustion but from surfing the edge of the rolling wave of battle ecstasy, excruciatingly close to rampaging orgasm.
She touched her finger to her ear.
“Um, Commander?” she transmitted through the mic embedded in her tiny earpiece. “I, uh—”
She shook her head to sweep out the remaining cobwebs of her battle high. “What’s big and round and, um, fits inside a truck? Uhhhh …”
“Lieutenant! Are you all right?”
“Yes! Commander, you’re not going to believe what I just caught.”