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Ultra Mistake

Written by ace191 :: [Saturday, 20 August 2005 16:51] Last updated by :: [Thursday, 15 May 2014 11:25]

Pearl had a good time that night with her friends Jen and Liv. Why couldn't she be as carefree as they were? They could go out clubbing, meet guys, have wild flings and come back for more the following week, sometimes the following night even! But she hadn't had sex in the past five years since she broke up with her last boyfriend. She took life so seriously and over analyzed everything. Why couldn't she just relax and enjoy herself?

It was of course, her job. She wasn't just some 9-5 secretary, she was Ultra, one of the most powerful (and sexy) super heroines employed by Superheroes Inc. Her last relationship with Captain Steel had ended in disaster. Why did every male superhero on the planet have to be such a megalomaniac super prick? And dating regular guys? All they were interested in was bragging to their friends that they had nailed a superbabe.

Most were too uncomfortable with her super abilities to form any kind of lasting relationship.

She said goodbye to her friends and walked the two blocks to where her shinny new Jag was parked. As she opened the door, she heard her stereo blaring. Wasn't the computer supposed to turn this off automatically? She slipped her key in the ignition and hoped. The car barely turned over and then the clicking of the starter solenoid told her that she was out of luck. She popped the hood and hoped that someone with jumper cables would show up soon as it was already 1 am and she really wanted to get home to bed.

Rick was getting off late tonight. He usually worked the 3-11 shift at the hospital as an x-ray tech, but it had been a busy night in the ER due to a bus accident, so he stayed late to help the night girl. He didn't mind. He had no life, and with his student loans he was happy to put in any overtime he could get.

He was driving home in his 1963 Rambler 220 Classic. Its 196 cubic inch flathead engine put out all of 90 horsepower, even less horsepower per cubic inch than an old Volkswagen for Christ's sake. Its one barrel carburetor was mounted directly to the head that virtually meant vapor lock anytime it got hot outside. The "intake manifold" was a slot cut into the block which assured that cylinders 3 and 4 would run rich and 1 and 6 would run lean.

And then there was the beach towel covering the front seat. The huge hole on the right side was a definite turn off on those rare occasions when he actually had a girl in his car especially if she ripped her dress on the seat spring that was poking through. Yes, a true Total Performance Vehicle! But it did have two saving graces. It was one of the few automatic transmission cars that could be push started (a feature he had taken advantage of on numerous occasions) and it featured the famous Rambler fold down seat that turned the whole car into a bed. As if he would ever get a chance to use that feature!

Rick rounded the corner and saw the hood up on the new jag with a gorgeous girl standing next to it. He went past and made a quick U turn and pulled up next to Pearl. Had the right front window worked, he would have rolled it down. Instead, he opened his door, stepped out and asked "do you need a hand?"

Pearl looked at Rick. He was pretty cute and seemed nice. "My battery is dead and I need a jump. Do you have any cables?"

"Yep, and a multimeter too."

Rick popped his trunk and hood and hooked up the cables in record time.

He shut off his lights to allow his tiny alternator to use all its power to charge the Jag's battery. "Just give it a couple of minutes to charge up your battery and I am sure we can get you going."

"This is the third time in the past six months that I have had this car that I have run the battery down." Pearl said.

"In that case, you have probably destroyed it. Not to worry though, there is a Checker Superstore that is open 24 hours about 2 miles from here. We can get you started and then go over there and get you a new battery."

"I really don't want to put you to any trouble." Pearl said.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all. I work mostly 3-11 shifts so I can sleep in as late as I want tomorrow. Give it a try."

Pearl turned the key. The jag turned over slowly, but then came to life.

Rick got out and put away the jumper cables. "Follow me." he said.

Pearl followed Rick to the auto parts store. He motioned for her to park under a lamppost and then drew his finger across his neck signaling her to cut the engine and pop the hood. In less than 3 minutes, he had the battery out and they were walking into the store with it.

"I am sorry Ma'm, but we don't take American Express cards here." Rick opened up his wallet and prayed that he was not over his $500 limit on his Sears Discover Card.

"You really don't have to do this you know."

"You look like someone I can trust." Rick answered.

In less time than it took to take the battery out, Rick had it back in.

"I would really like to thank you for this."

"How about a nice home cooked meal."

"How about a nice dinner out." Pearl responded.

"Sure."

"Well, can you give me you name and number?"

"The name is Rick and my number is classified." He didn't want to tell her that to save money, he didn't have a phone and made all his calls from the hospital.

"Well then, how about dinner tomorrow night?"

"Can't make it. But I can Friday as I am working the 7- 3 shift."

"Friday it is. Can you be at Sergio's at 8pm?"

"I think so."

"See you then." Pearl drove off and started to think about Rick. At 5 foot ten, he was neither a small nor large guy. He looked to be in great shape as he had a small waist, good arm definition and a cute little butt. His blond locks made him look younger that he probably was. He clearly was fairly intelligent and good with cars and tools, the kind of guy most women dream about.

 

Rick rolled over and looked at the incredible female lying next to him. It was hard to remember back three weeks ago when they had first had dinner at Sergio's. He must be the luckiest guy on the Planet. Sex with her was beyond description. Absolutely every part of her was super strong and the things she could do to and for him were unbelievable. The only down side was the number of times she had given him Blue Balls. It seemed like just about every time they would start to get Hot and Heavy her pager would go off. If he heard that "with great power comes great responsibility" speech one more time he would puke. Still, sex with her was worth it.

A month later he was in her apartment. Not that damn pager again! This was the fifth time in a row in the past two weeks that they had gotten started and would not get to finish. His balls ached again. He could probably stand it, but what he couldn't take was being "Dismissed" to go back to his place every time she had to fly off. She wouldn't be caught dead in his little modest efficiency apartment, so every time they got together it had to be at her place. He had nothing against a beautiful luxury high rise apartment mind you, but he hated being "sent home" every time she had to leave.

Time to end this relationship he though. Might as well see if I can't get something out of this for my trouble he though. He called the Weekly World Enquirer and asked for one million dollars for pictures of him and Ultra "doing it". They countered with ten thousand before they both settled on 100 thousand dollars for the set.

He had secretly made a key when she had left it out one day. He used that key to sneak in and put his cameras in place. He then bade his time until they slept together again. A week later he got his chance. He asked her to make it up to him for the 5 times they had gotten interrupted to turn off her pager, dress in her boots, cape and skirt and then leave the lights on so he could enjoy the effect. She felt a little bad for having stood him up so many times so she was glad to comply with this seemingly harmless request.

The pictures came out great. He contacted the WWE and sold them. He had arranged for them to pay off his student loans directly and he had set up a dummy business so that there would be no record of him being paid.

His car had finally died for the last time, so he had purchased his dream machine, a Kawasaki Ninja ZX-12R and registered it in his buddy Sarge's name. Sarge would be overseas for the next year, so if anyone asked, he would just say that he was taking care of it for him until he got back from Iraq.

When the pictures came out, he called Pearl up and left a message on her machine. "What are you, some sick screwed up super bitch? Do you take pictures of all your conquests? What happened, did the guy at the Photomat keep a set for himself? We are history, you crazy slut!"

Pearl was stunned. How had this happened? She had to find out who had done this to her, but before she could, Superheroes Inc called her. "We are very sorry, but you have clearly violated the morals clause of your contract. All of your sponsors have canceled their contracts with us and you have one week to move out of our apartment and return our Jag to us."

Pearl was livid. She was going to find the SOB who was responsible for this and she was going to make him pay. But just where were the offices of the Weekly World Enquirer? She went to the supermarket and bought every rag there all of which now had her pictures on every page. Strange she thought.

As she looked at the inside page of each rag, she noted that they were all published in Boca Raton Florida. More than just a coincidence she thought.

 

Off to Boca Raton to get some answers.

When Pearl went to the first address, she found out that it was just a private mail box company. She quickly checked the other addresses and found the same thing. These guys clearly don't want to be easily found. It took awhile, but she noticed a very attractive blonde making the rounds of the P.O. Boxes. She flew behind her being careful to stay out of sight. She came to a non-descript office building and went in. Pearl followed her inside to suite 102.

No other name appeared on the door. The door was locked, but rather than knock, she just snapped the door handle off and walked in. "May I help you?" the blonde asked.

"I would like to know who provided you with my pictures for your filthy rag."

"I don't know what you are taking about."

"Maybe the asshole behind this door does."

Pearl didn't even try the handle, she just kicked it open knocking it off its hinges sending it flying into the wall on the opposite side of the room.

"I think you know who I am and what I want."

"Freedom of the press is protected by the first amendment my dear, so turn around and leave the way you came before I call the cops" said the fat balding man sitting behind the desk"

"Let's see how well the first amendment protects you from having your left testicle crushed." responded Pearl. She walked across the room, kicked his desk out of the way and then picked him up by his throat. She pinned him against the wall and then used her right hand to crush his left testicle. He tried to scream, but she tightened her grip on his throat and he was unable to.

"You know, I don't think the first amendment is providing you a whole lot of protection right about know, and you have so many more things that I can break. Perhaps some other amendment might afford you more protection?"

The fat man wanted no more from her. He was a cowardly lawyer who was an expert dealing with lawsuits, but not pissed off superbabes. "I don't know who provided the pictures." he answered. Unhappy with that response, Pearl snapped his left forearm in two.

"Please, no more, I will tell you everything." he cried. "We never know who sends us the pictures because we don't want too. We use various brokers for these pictures, that way, we have plausible deniability if we get sued."

"Which broker sold you my pictures?" Pearl demanded.

"Robert Smith in LA." the man replied.

"Do you have a phone number and address?"

"Of course."

"And if I have any trouble finding this guy, or learn that you have warned him that I am coming, the entire constitution will not be enough to protect you from me, understand?"

The man shook his head up and down as he knew exactly what she meant.

 

Rick was really enjoying himself. Meeting Ultra, having a relationship with her and selling her pictures were the best moves he had ever made.

He was out of debt, he had a great new ride and every girl he met was dying to have sex with him. They all wanted to know what a Superbabe saw in him and to say that they had done it with the same guy that Ultra had slept with. And the best part was that Pearl was so dumb that she didn't even realize that he was the one that had taken the pictures! Life was great!

 

The trip to LA seemed to take forever. She had no trouble finding Mr. Smith. She landed on his balcony as he was drinking a glass of wine. He choked on a swallow as he saw her approach.

"What can I do for you Miss Ultra?" he asked.

"Tell me who gave you my pictures you worthless piece of crap."

For a moment, he wondered what he might be able to get out of this for himself. One look in her eyes and he decided he would settle for his life.

"I normally never reveal my sources, but for a superhero of your stature, I will make an exception."

"A young man provided the pictures. He never gave me his name, but he gave specific instructions on how the money was to be paid. The first payment was to a bank to pay off a 65,000 dollar student loan. The second payment was to a corporation, and the third payment was made to a Kawasaki motorcycle dealer to buy a motorcycle. I hope this information is helpful to you."

A student loan payoff and a new motorcycle? That little shit Rick!!!

"What you really mean is that you hope this information will keep me from tearing you limb from limb."

With that, Pearl lifted him in the air by his throat up to the ceiling.

"Now, Mr. Smith, as of today, you are out of the picture business. If I ever find out that you have even taken a picture of a celebrity, you will wish to god that you never met me." With that, Pearl pushed his head slightly backward as she released him. She watched him fall the 10 feet with a perfect 1/4 rotation to his back. Pearl could hear his back break as he hit the floor. Perfect she thought, two down, one little asshole to go.

 

Rick got off work a little after 11 that night. He had been trying to get his nerve up on the new ZX. When he first got it, he was afraid to ride it over 100 mph, but had worked his way up to 140. Tonight, he was going to try for 150.

Pearl spotted him heading out to an isolated stretch of road. Excellent! She had a special little present that she wanted to give him and this would be the perfect place and time.

Rick was rapidly picking up speed, 110, 125, 140, 150! This was great, he was really flying! It was then that he saw her flying along side just in front of him. He saw the mischievous look on her face and then what she had in her hand. It took him a second to realize what she had in mind. Shit no! He pulled the clutch in and went for the brakes.

Pearl saw the look on his face and noted his actions. Smart boy, it only took you a second to figure out what is going to happen she thought to herself.

Pearl jammed the large steel rod in her hand into the front wheel of his new Ninja.

With a staccato triple click, the three spokes of the front rim broke. The front forks fell to the road and dug in and the rear lifted ejecting him at 150 mph. He had a second before impact to calculate that he was moving at 220 feet per second, not good he thought.

He landed on his left shoulder and felt it snap. In rapid succession, he felt as if all his ribs had been broken over and over again. His arms were flailing as he kept rolling and rolling. And then his legs hit the guard rail and they seemed to explode. It was the last thing he felt.

 

Several days later Pearl went to visit Rick in the Hospital. She went up to the Surgical ICU where she was met by a young nurse. "I am sorry, but we only allow relatives to visit. Oh, Miss Ultra, I did not realize it was you. You may visit him of course."

"How is he doing?" Pearl asked.

"Lucky to be alive. His left shoulder was fractured and dislocated. Both forearms and wrists were shattered. He broke 8 ribs on the left side and six on the right. He has bilateral chest tubes and a machine is breathing for him through his neck. He broke his left hip and right femur as well as both his lower legs and ankles."

"Is he awake?" Pearl asked.

"Yes he is. Thank god he was wearing his helmet. Other than a broken nose, his head and face are OK."

"May I have a moment with him alone?"

"Of course Miss Ultra."

"You can call me Pearl. I am afraid that after those photos, I won't ever be known as Ultra again."

She walked into his private room and marveled at all tubes that were going into him. There was hardly any part of him that was not in a cast.

"Well you certainly look a mess. I hope it was worth it for you."

He tired to cry out but couldn't with the tube in his windpipe.

"I see that your head and your organ are about the only two parts of you that aren't broken." She put her hand around his penis and started to massage it.

"Don't worry. As soon as you are better, I will take care of those too."

She tightened her grip and he tried to scream, but only bucked the respirator setting off the alarms.

"Now if anyone ever asks, you can tell them what it is like to make an Ultra Mistake!"

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