Written by Dumano1r :: [Friday, 17 April 2020 21:28] Last updated by :: [Saturday, 18 April 2020 16:25]
Earl Swaby was having a bad day.
He’d been on the road for nearly ten hours with a truckload of machine parts for a factory in Canada when he heard a faint pop and a hiss and his truck began to rumble ominously. He had pulled over to check the tyres of his 18 wheeler, finding that an outer dual tyre was flapping uselessly on its rim. He had gone into his truck to get the spare, heaving it out onto the side of the road only to find that the jack was missing. “Ah, fuck it,” he grumbled. With an effort he hoisted the tyre back into the cab, secured it, then carried on Northwards, taking it steady in the hope that the remaining tyres wouldn’t have any issues. He wondered to himself where he had left his jack, guessing that it was somewhere in the jumble of tools in the workshop he rented from the Port Authority.
He had just passed a cloverleaf when he heard an ominous bang and the truck began to shake. “Fucking typical,” he muttered. Up ahead he saw a Motel with a large parking lot for big rigs. He drove in, parking in a large space between two other parked trucks. He killed the engine, climbed down from the cab and looked at the mangled remains of his second tyre. “Fuck,” he grumbled, giving the rim a firm kick. To his intense annoyance it hurt his toe, leaving him hobbling back to his cab.
He checked his watch. “I ain’t got time for this shit,” he grumbled to himself.
He checked the other two trucks for their driver’s. One was missing, the other was eating a sandwich and sipping from a flask of coffee. “Hey, buddy, do you have a jack I could borrow?” Swaby asked.
The other driver swallowed his mouthful of sandwich. “Nah, I don’t carry one. The boss says changing tyres by the side of the road ain’t worth the insurance.” He swung himself down from his cab, walking with Swaby to look at the shredded tyre remains. “Shit,” he mumbled thoughtfully. “I guess you’re gonna have to call a local garage. Your company will pay, right?”
Swaby shook his head sadly. “I’m my own boss. Fuck!” he complained. He had tyres in his yard, and knew a place in Canada where he could get them cheap. Calling a local tyre shop out was a financial hit he could do without, but more importantly it would set him back several hours, meaning the factory that needed the parts might well be closed by the time he got there. He shook his head wearily, crouching down by the wheel to confirm what he already knew. The tyres were beyond repair.
“Do you guys need a hand?” a female voice asked. Swaby didn’t look up, instead he irritably pulled a torn strip of rubber free from the wheel rim. It was still warm.
“Lady, unless you’ve got a hydraulic jack for a truck you can’t do shit,” Swaby said irritably.
“But thank you for the offer, ma’am.”
There was something about the other trucker’s respectful tone that made Swaby look up immediately. Standing there next to his truck was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, wearing only panties and a t-shirt that looked several sizes too small. Her perfect, shapely legs seemed to flow gracefully upwards into curvaceous hips before her body narrowed smoothly to a minute, toned waist. From there her body flowed outwards once more to the breath-taking curves of her of gigantic bust, tightening again at the shoulders to an elegant neck. Her face was beautiful, flawless, framed by a cascade of silky blonde hair and dominated by two sparkling, green eyes. Swaby stood up, his mouth falling open as he did so.
“So what does a hydraulic jack do? She asked innocently.
Swaby managed to stop gaping for long enough to explain. “It lifts the truck up so that I can change the wheel,” he said.
“Like this, you mean?” she said with a grin.
She leant forward, displaying her plunging cleavage as she did so, to slide a dainty hand under the side of the truck. Then, with no apparent effort, she straightened up, lifting the truck into the air as she did so. The jaws of both truck drivers dropped open.
She stood there for a moment, enjoying the incredulity of the two men and the erotic feeling of incredible power in her arm. The frame of the truck was groaning under the pressure of gravity trying to pull it back down onto the tarmac, the huge weight bearing down on her slender, sensual limb. And her arm was winning. Easily.
Swaby just stood and stared in amazement at the stunning superwoman. In his head he was trying to calculate how much she was lifting with one hand. His big rig and the load in the trailer had to weigh close to 60,000 pounds.
“Well, are you getting the spare tyre or not?” she asked in a bored tone.
Swaby clamped his jaw shut. “Er, yeah, yeah, no problem. I’ll grab the tyre and the wrench.”
“What’s the wrench for?” she asked.
“To undo the wheel nuts.”
She gently lowered the truck to the ground and strode towards him, hips swaying seductively. She crouched down next to the shattered tyre, and looked up at Swaby with a glint in her stunning green eyes. Swaby found himself staring down at her cavernous cleavage as she placed a dainty forefinger and her thumb on one of the machine-tightened wheel nuts. “Is this a wheel nut?” she asked, as she twisted it free with a casual rotation of her slender wrist. She smiled up at Swaby, her ruby red lips parting slightly to reveal perfect white teeth. “Just get the tyre.”
Swaby hurried into the cab to get the spare wheel. By the time he got back she had undone all of the bolts of the wheel and was nonchalantly holding the truck up in the air with one hand, with the broken remains of the tyre in the other. “I can’t believe how light your truck is,” she purred. “it’s like they made it out of styrofoam. Why do you need a hydraulic jack to lift it up? Surely a big, strong man like you could lift it if a slender, sexy girl like me can do it this easily?”
Swaby stammered, feeling himself go red. “I, er, that is, I…”
She giggled. “I think you’d better put the spare on. I wouldn’t want to accidentally do the nuts up too tightly. You’d never get them off I did.”
Swaby pushed the wheel onto the axle and began to tighten the nuts with a wrench that was two feet long.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Another female voice shouted from the direction of the motel. Swaby looked up from the wheel to see a woman storming across the lot. She was shorter than the stunning blonde, with brown hair cut short and a body that was more muscular. She was also totally naked.
The superhuman blonde looked over at her. “I was just helping these guys change a tyre.”
The brunette was furious. Swaby watched entranced as she fumed, her generous breasts quivering with indignation as she shouted. “We are supposed to be keeping a low profile! And here you are lifting a fucking truck!”
The blonde looked sheepish. “Okay, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea, but you guys won’t tell anyone about me, will you?” She looked at Swaby and the other driver and pouted wistfully.
“No, ma’am,” they both said at once, partly out of respect for her incredibly nubile physique, and partly out of respect for having watched her just lift a truck with one hand.
“Now put your toy down and come and get in the car. We’d better get back on the road quickly!” the naked brunette ordered, crossing her arms over her substantial chest.
The blonde lowered the truck back to the floor. “You guys take care,” she said with a playful smile.
Swaby watched the two women enter their hotel room together. He looked at the other driver who looked back at him with an expression that he was sure mirrored his own. For a moment the two men just stood there gaping, neither knowing what to say. It was Swaby who finally broke the silence. “Well, that ain’t something you see everyday.”
Cassandra looked at the camera with her lips slightly apart, her eyes smouldering with sex appeal. She placed her hands on her shapely hips and leaned forwards slightly with her chest pushed out to emphasise the fantastic size and shape of her breasts and to offer a tantalising glimpse of cavernous cleavage. She gently tossed her head to let her hair cascade over her shoulder. “I’m Cassandra, one of the strongest women in the world.” She paused, straightening up slightly and running her hands over the rippling, toned majesty of her stomach. “When I’m fighting crime, I like to know that I can count on local law enforcement to back me up.” She brought up one arm, curling it into a majestic bicep flex, glancing at the healthy swell of her bicep before looking back into the camera with a lustful smile on her face. “I love strength and that’s why I endorse the re-election of Sheriff Chad, a powerful man with a proven history of being tough on crime.” She brought her free hand to her ruby lips and blew a kiss to the camera with her most sexy smile. She could imagine the wet dreams that the short campaign video would inspire across the state.
“And that’s a wrap!” the director stated.
Cassandra immediately dropped her pose and scowled at the sheriff, who stood watching her with a smirk on his flabby face. “There, are you happy now?” she demanded.
“Absolutely, darlin’” he slimed. He turned to the police captain. “You heard the lady, get all of your men onto this.”
“Yes, sir.” The captain hurried out of the room, talking into his radio as he went.
Sheriff Chad smiled greasily at Cassandra and rubbed his hands together. “That was a great video, darlin’. Now I’d better get going, I’m meeting the mayor on the golf course in an hour. It’s always a pleasure to admire your work.”
“I wish I could say the feeling was mutual,” Cassandra spat bitterly. The simple truth was she hated the sheriff. He was a deeply unpleasant, corrupt individual, who had made a fortune from ripping off the tax-payers in a wide variety of different ways. To him, crime fighting wasn’t about fighting crime, it was about lining his pockets as creatively as possible. He had slashed budgets across the board, channelling the funds into private companies in which he held shares. He treated minority groups as the enemy, all the while preaching about his own religious virtuosity. He ran the prisons like a private fiefdom, proudly feeding the prisoners with food unfit for human consumption whilst using the colossal savings to buy himself an upstate mansion and a yacht.
Cassandra dreamed of destroying him. Of flattening his mansion with her mighty fists, of throwing his yacht into the side of a mountain, and of dragging him to spend life in one of his own prisons. Unfortunately though, the smug piece-of-shit controlled all of the manpower that she urgently needed for her search.
For even as she watched the fat sheriff waddle away in smug self-satisfaction, the whole department were beginning to work on the myriad tasks that she alone could not rush through. Police officers were doing meticulous house to house enquiries all around the neighbourhood where the assassin lived. Super speed and strength were great, but not much help in making prolonged enquiries around dozens of civilian households where one could only operate at the speed of witness testimony.
Other officers were searching traffic cameras with a probable time window provided by Cassandra’s trip to the bar, though currently they weren’t too sure what they were looking for. Still more were notifying neighbouring states and gathering intelligence on the two women who lived at the house, now identified as Claire and Alice Jones. Alice worked at a car plant on the production floor as a supervisor, and now enquiries were being made with her co-workers as to whether she had ever mentioned any travel plans or regular holiday locations.
All of the police work being done was mundane; boring; time-consuming; and essential. Cassandra could only wait in the captain’s office, watching the busy officers with a uselessness that she found intensely frustrating.
After ten minutes of frustrating waiting she called a young female officer into the captain’s office, laid her out on the desk and fucked her senseless, bringing her to intense orgasm after mind-blowing orgasm, simply to pass the time.
The first breakthrough came about half an hour into the investigation. An officer doing doorstep enquiries was told by a teenager that he’d seen a mundane blue car being driven out of the isolated woodland garage whilst he’d been out on his paper route. He couldn’t give a make or model, let alone a registration, but it was a start.
With the search narrowed down to a probable blue car the traffic camera searches became more directed. It was an element of luck that a patrolman reviewing his dashboard camera, which had been scanning the southbound traffic from the shoulder, spotted two females heading south at around the probable time. He hurried into the captain’s office with the news, just about managing to hide his shock at the sight of his naked colleague spread-eagled in the throes of ecstasy on the captain’s desk and the topless superheroine on her knees between her legs. “I think we might have a possible sighting, ma’am,” he said to Cassandra.
Cassandra hurried out into the office, slipping her gigantic orbs back inside her purple cat-suit as she did so. The officer showed her an image of a faded blue Mondeo with a blonde and a brunette together in the front. Cassandra recognised them immediately. “That’s them! Do you have the number plate?”
“Of course! We’re already searching it.”
“That is some excellent work. Remind me later and I’ll reward your diligence properly,” Cassandra purred, running her perfectly manicured nails slowly down his chest.
Cassandra hurried down to the police parking lot. She could move fast, but unlike Kryptonian’s she couldn’t fly. As such, on longer journeys she preferred to travel on her own super-charged motorbike, a dark purple beast of a machine with a turbo-charged engine and nitrogen cooled fuel cells. She clipped an enhanced headset to her ear, the mouthpiece to her perfect lips. “This is Cassandra to all units, I’m heading South on the interstate. Update me the second you have any information on the fugitives.”
In moments she was shooting through the southbound traffic, the bike throbbing powerfully between her thighs as she revved up to a steady 250mph. As ever, the sensation of 80 brake horse-power between her legs and the wind howling down between her breasts and over her rock hard nipples was incredibly erotic.
Her earpiece flickered to life. “Cassandra, we’ve got ANPR hits for the vehicle all the way south to the Union cloverleaf. Then it disappears. Nothing else at this time.”
“They’ve gone to ground. Have officers call all the motels in the vicinity of that cloverleaf.”
She glanced at the satnav set into the steering column of her bike. Union cloverleaf was about 200 miles away, so she’d be there in less than an hour. From there roads fanned out in all different directions, including minor roads which might not be covered by cameras. She could feel that she was getting closer to her target, though she suspected that the assassin was not going to make it easy for her.
Claire and Alice drove North in silence, with Alice driving this time, her knuckles gripping the wheel so hard they were turning white, her jaw set in grim frustration. They stopped briefly at a small, deserted rest area where Claire changed the number plates for a spare set in a concealed compartment in the trunk. Then they carried on North for about ten minutes before swinging West onto a minor road that ran through open country before turning Northwards towards the Canadian border. Finally Claire broke the silence.
“Look, I’m sorry, I got carried away, okay? These powers, they’re just something else!”
Alice shook her head wearily. “How could you be so stupid? You of all people should understand the common weakness.” She looked at Claire, tears forming in her eyes. “I love you, and I don’t want to lose you.”
“You aren’t going to lose me.”
“I already am. Are you you anymore?”
“Of course I’m still me, just infinitely stronger and sexier,” Claire said with a seductive wink.
“No, no you’re not,” Alice said with a gulp. “These powers are making you arrogant and careless. That isn’t who you are.”
It was Claire’s turn to sigh. She looked out of the window, not knowing what to say. The rural landscape of neat farms and scattered buildings rolled steadily past. She took a deep breath, and turned to her lover. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” She reached her hand out to Alice, who took it and squeezed it gently.
“I do understand. What you did to me in that motel room was incredible. Just incredible. That kind of strength must be addictive, but you’ve got to be careful. Cassandra is still coming for you.”
“I might be as strong as her now,” Claire said thoughtfully.
Alice frowned. “Might be. The key word is might. You’ve seen the reports on High Velorians. They are seriously fucking strong. Plus, we don’t know if you’ve got any of Ultraman’s other powers to help you.”
“Could I try my x-ray vision on you?” Claire asked with a slightly childish giggle.
Alice shook her head in mock weariness, though this time her lips rose into an amused smile. “You need to master every power you can if you’re going to have a fighting chance when you meet Cassandra. You know that she’ll be prepared for a fight, and if she brings kryptonite…” She left the sentence unfinished, the threat hanging silently in the air.
Cassandra was only minutes away from the cloverleaf when her radio pinged on again and a distant, tinny voice spoke into her ear. “Cassandra, this is dispatch, do you copy?”
“We’ve been monitoring the CV radio frequencies used by the truckers. We’ve picked up a conversation between two truckers about a possible sighting of the suspects at a northbound motel on the interstate.”
“Can you play it for me?”
The voice on the radio changed and the recording became less clear. “I’m tellin’ ya, man, she picked up that guy’s truck with one hand, undid the wheel nuts with her fingers. And she was fine as warm apple pie.” There was a burst of crackly laughter.
“Where was the sighting?”
The dispatcher gave her the address of a motel on the northbound side of the interstate. To her delight she could see it coming up ahead.
She crossed the central reservation without slowing down, pulling a wheelie at over 200mph across the fast moving traffic of the opposite carriageway, before mounting a slight berm to jump the bike into the motel’s lot. As the bike landed she stamped down with her right foot, digging it deep into the asphalt so that the bike swung around in a tremendous roaring arc between her mighty thighs, grinding to an abrupt stop as her legs locked it in place. She killed the engine, dropped the bike stand and swung her leg over the saddle, pausing briefly to admire the gouge in the tarmac, a foot deep and three feet long, where she had used her slender leg as an unbreakable anchor.
She strode purposefully into the motel reception. There was nobody at the desk, so she rang the bell. Nothing. She rang the bell again. Still nothing. Irritated now, she struck the bell harder, mashing it into the laminate panelled surface. Finally a receptionist arrived, staring in stunned shock at the impossibly beautiful woman standing with a fixed scowl at the desk. “Can I help you, ma’am?” he stuttered nervously.
“You had two women staying here last night. They arrived in a blue Ford Mondeo. I need to know all the details they gave when they booked in.”
“Okay, I was on duty last night, so that should be easy enough. You’re Cassandra, right? Super strong and that? I’m a big fan of your work.”
“Thanks, but I’m in a hurry, so if you don’t mind…” Cassandra said with ill-disguised impatience.
The clerk nodded, quickly working away on the computer. “Here we are, Fiona and Adele Kent, stayed in room 9. Paid cash.”
“Nothing, I’m afraid.”
“I need to see the CCTV. Do you have a camera covering the parking lot?”
She was led into a back office where the receptionist brought up the CCTV footage on a screen. To her relief he was quite proficient at using the system. He wound back to the previous evening. On the black-and-white screen a Ford Mondeo pulled into the lot and two women got out. One was the brunette whose picture Cassandra had seen at the house. The other was the blonde. Or had been at least. Cassandra and the receptionist’s eyes both opened wide at the sight of the blonde. Even on the grainy CCTV footage it was clear she was stunning, with a fantastic hourglass figure not dissimilar from Cassandra’s own. This was not the same mildly attractive human that eyewitnesses had seen at so many crime scenes. Nobody would call this fabulous woman mildly attractive.
“That lady came in and paid. I didn’t see the blonde lady,” said the receptionist.
Cassandra didn’t ask him if he was sure. There was no way anyone would forget meeting that blonde lady.
“Can you show me the parking lot this morning? I’m looking for a lorry coming in, probably with a busted tyre.”
The receptionist worked the computer and the screen changed to the parking lot. The Ford Mondeo was still parked in the yard, the door to room 9 closed. He sped the footage up until a large truck zipped across the yard and parked. He returned the footage to its normal speed. It was hard to see what was happening with the truck, as another parked truck blocked the view, but after a few moments the door to room 9 opened and the blonde came out. She sauntered across the lot, swinging her hips seductively, dressed only in a t-shirt and panties. “She is hot,” the receptionist muttered.
She stepped behind the first truck and out of shot. For a few moments nothing happened, but then the truck that had only just arrived visibly rose in the air, tilting on its axles. After a moment it was lowered again, then rose again. “Is she lifting the truck?” the receptionist asked.
Cassandra nodded. “That’s not bad, but she’s only lifting it from one side. If that were me, I’d have lifted the whole truck over my head.”
The receptionist looked at her incredulously. On the CCTV screen the brunette emerged from the hotel room, totally naked, furiously shouting silently at people out of shot. “She’s quite hot too,” the receptionist said.
“If you like larger than average human-sized breasts and muscles, I suppose,” said Cassandra dismissively.
On the screen the two women went back into the hotel room. A few moments later they came out of the motel, got into the Mondeo, and drove out of the motel onto the north-bound slip road.
“Thanks, you’ve been really helpful,” said Cassandra. “You’re obviously good with computers, and that means you’re good with your hands, and I love a man who’s good with his hands.”
The receptionist opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say “thanks” Cassandra had pulled the shoulder straps of her cat suit down to expose her magnificent mammaries. She took his unresisting hands and placed them on her firm flesh, just above the solid prominences of her nipples. She let his feeble fingers explore the incredible firmness of her mighty orbs for a few moments until she felt he had been suitably rewarded, then she slipped back into her cat suit and with a sexy wink turned and left.
Out at her bike she paused. Despite being dismissive to the receptionist, lifting a truck was no mean feat. Her quarry’s power was clearly growing and possibly hadn’t even peaked yet. Cassandra knew that there was no time to waste.
She opened the streamlined pannier of her bike. In her time with Ultraman he had always insisted she didn’t carry any Kryptonite, insisting it would be like him carrying an obsidian knife. But Cassandra wasn’t entirely trusting of all Kryptonians and had wanted to have an edge in any fight that might occur. Therefore, nestled in an insulated compartment deep within her bike, she kept a special set of brass knuckles tipped with a fine row of Kryptonite crystals. She slipped the knuckleduster onto her fingers, gave it an affectionate squeeze, jumped onto her bike, gunned the engine, and sped away northwards.