Written by oogber :: [Saturday, 28 July 2018 08:49] Last updated by :: [Saturday, 28 July 2018 08:52]
Everyone imagines it’s easy being me, even though I take great measures to make sure that nobody knows who “me” actually is. They all think it’s soooo easy being impervious to harm, being able to move at speeds invisible to the naked eye (and most technology), being able to flip a car with my pinky, seeing through absolutely any object at will, and oh, I nearly forgot, being able to cause wind storms or blizzards just by gently blowing. Oh. And also being able to defy gravity. Okay, there. That’s probably most of what I can do. Probably.
I know it sounds like I could get whatever I want, from anyone I want, regardless of their will, but that’s just not right. If I were a fragile human, I wouldn’t want someone else to destroy me, so why should I do that to others? My parents instilled the golden rule into me. And it’s a good thing too – you guys wouldn’t stand a chance! I love my family, and I’m kind of teasing you, but it’s also kind of mostly completely true.
But you have no idea the burden that comes with these powers. No, I’m not talking about saving the world, one kitten stuck in a tree at a time. Or even stopping world crises. It’s not my job to solve the world’s problems. But that’s exactly where the problem comes from. If anyone KNEW I could solve the world’s problems, then they would want me to! So I have to keep myself hidden.
Do you know how difficult that is? For example, right now, I’m typing on my computer in my dorm room. All I want to do is sit cross legged in front of my desk, without a chair. Just sitting on the air, you know? It’s a lot easier for me to move into a horizontal stretch this way, without accidentally kicking this chair into a million splinters. Just a nice, long, midair stretch. But someone might see me through the window.
I could be done with this post already. But my long, super strong fingers at full speed would melt this keyboard in a few seconds, leaving a gross goopy mess on my desk. You see what I have to put up with?
It’s dangerous when I get bored. Think of all the things you do when you’re sitting in a room, waiting for something to happen: drumming your fingers on a desk, shaking your leg up and down, daydreaming about sex... these are all things that I can’t afford to do! If I drummed my fingers without paying attention, I’m not sure what would happen – would the wood of the table fragment and collapse, or would the metallic legs crumple? Unfortunately, I do know what happens when I tap my foot on the ground. Our area, devoid of earthquakes for decades, experiences a 6 on the Richter scale. The sound was a crescendo into a roar, localized in our very area. Within seconds, I had caused thousands of dollars of damage because I was bored and tapped my foot on the earth about 100 times in the space of a few heartbeats. And the daydreaming…
Don’t get me started on the sexual frustration. We’ve already established that I can’t fly in an area as public as a dorm room. I may not have any roommates (courtesy of my, ahem, negotiation skills), but sometime a girl just wants to jill off, you know? I learned that one early on. My orgasms are dangerous for my surroundings. My bucking hips smashed right through the mattress as if it weren’t there, my trembling legs kicking the bed posts to sawdust. My screams of ecstasy shattered my windows. Nuh uh. So I have to fly above the clouds during night time to get some satisfaction. I mean, my orgasms seem way better than what the girls fake in porn, and I can keep going as long as I want, but sometimes a girl just wants a cozy night in with a vibrator that won’t physically fall apart inside of her as she cums. What a life, right? Who wants to buy a disposable vibrator?
And don’t get me started on how careful I have to be around you people. First of all, I had to practice breathing. Yes! People got creeped out when I never seemed to take a breath. I never had such a reflex, since I’ve never even had to do it. I seem to operate just fine, and can even blow way stronger than hurricane force without inhaling. But no, I had to practice the motion of breathing. The indignity!
What’s more, I saw that sometimes people take a deep breath. I did that once, and my breasts burst a button right off my top. Okay, that was pretty awesome, but that just reminds me of another thing! I have to wear a bunch of baggy clothes to hide my figure!
Imagine that, a girl, in the (eternal) prime of her life, having to cover up the most beautiful body that mankind will ever witness. Over the course of a week of puberty, I went from a cute, invulnerable, impossibly super strong girl, to the most curvaceous, voluptuous, built young woman with gigantic breasts that defy gravity. I didn’t have any new clothes to fit my glorious body, so I showed up to school, clothes way too tight. I had to wear sandals since my beautiful feet wouldn’t fit in my shoes anymore since I gained a bunch of height. I couldn’t wiggle my jeans over my hips any longer, so I wore a pair of shorts that barely covered my tight upper thighs, revealing my long, sleek legs. I didn’t even have training bras before my sudden puberty, so I put on a previously loose t-shirt that my breasts pushed way out in front of my body, nipples clearly in view. It didn’t help that my svelte six pack abs and tiny waist were on display too. With the hormones that come with high school, every student that caught a glimpse of me that day struggled to find a private place to masturbate. I was shocked, but I wasn’t about to stop eavesdropping on them with my super hearing and vision. Others with less self control just masturbated right there in the classroom, fingering their penises from their pockets, the girls rubbing their thighs together or pulling their panties. I looked at the teacher, who was mesmerized by the sight of me. I decided to try pouting my lips at him and giving him a little wink. His eyes closed as he gripped his desk tightly, shuddered, and then quickly excused himself.
I came back home that day feeling more powerful than ever.
Where was I?
Oh right! So now, in order to not cause an international incident, I have to dress in clothes two sizes too big. There’s no way to bind my breasts; they are way too super and aggressively perky to be held back by anything. And if I wore anything that showed off my tiny cinched waist, my wide hips, or my sleek, long legs, I would never get an privacy. In a world where women are covering up their fake tits with their hands and posting it on instagram, I have to be demure. Ugh!
That reminds me. Other interactions with people.
I can’t go swimming with anyone. I love to swim. It totally sucks! It looks like I am going to look the way I do now eternally. And what I mean by that is, nothing can mar my perfection. No speck of dirt can stick to my flawless, porcelain, smooth skin. Even water slides right off. If I were to go to the beach, as I exited the ocean, all the moisture would just flow right off me as if I were WD-40. Crazy, right? As soon as my head surfaces above the water, my silky flaxen hair would be reflecting the sunlight, completely dry, and as perfect as if I had just gone to a salon. As soon as I step out of the ocean, my entire body is smooth and warm to the touch. The sand wouldn’t stick to me at all. So I can’t go to beaches during the day. Huge bummer, right?
Of course, I’ve mangled stuff with my super strength. A stuck door that nobody can open? I unknowingly walk up to it, grab the doorknob, and push. The thing squishes in my hand as the door comes off the hinges. I’m left supporting a supposedly “heavy” and “stuck” door effortless hanging from my one handed grasp. Try and explain that to someone. Locked doors are a nightmare for me. I have to examine every door with my x-ray vision to determine if I’m supposed to be able to open it. Gah! I could knock down that whole building with a gentle touch, and yet I’m the one who has to tread on eggshells.
Let’s talk about romance. True, I can get anyone I want, but what’s the point when nobody can satisfy me? If I’m feeling sexy and I behave as I naturally do when I’m aroused, men and women just don’t stand a chance. I’ve tried it even without showing off my body. As soon as I give them a come hither look, the briefest touch of my fingers on their skin or the smallest moan from me just causes them to blow their load. I thought my marks were just weak, but I’ve never failed to make someone orgasm when I wanted them to, and have triggered many others unwillingly with nothing but a throwaway smile.
So I hold back during the DATE. I mean come on! And then I hold back during the sex. Even without casting my aura of seduction, it seems I’m just too naturally gorgeous for anyone to last any duration with me. I grip a rock hard penis to put it inside me, and he screams as he blows his load all over my stomach (which just slides off my body, of course.) Of course, with my hand still touching him, there’s no way he’ll go soft, so I gently put him inside my hot, slick, velvety pussy as he swears to whatever deity he believes in. So first of all, he’s not worshiping me. And secondly, if I were to take him the way I wanted, there would be nothing left of him. My breasts are so large and firm that repeated bashing would leave nothing but a bloody mess. So I gently hold their hips and drive them in and out of me, slowly, and after two pumps with my superhuman pussy gripping their shaft, they blow their load again, despite having just cum. If I sense that they’re not about to suffer a heart attack anytime soon, I keep them hard in any myriad of ways that I have available to me, but even the third time comes too soon. Sigh. At least I get more powerful with each orgasm donated to me.
Lately, I haven’t looked for any casual hookups. Just too disappointing. It’s enough to just try to interact with people, remembering to breathe, remembering that if someone accidentally bumps into me, I should probably give way instead of just plowing right through them. I fly around at night and experiment with my powers in secluded areas, juggling boulders with a few fingers, blowing them into the horizon, or exploding them with my heat vision.
You might be wondering, if I get my powers from people experiencing orgasms because of me, then what’s going to happen to me now that I’ve given up on sex with other people?
The answer, dear reader, is what you are doing for me right now.