Written by Woodclaw :: [Friday, 15 February 2013 09:13] Last updated by :: [Monday, 22 May 2017 18:07]
(Thanks to Njae and Pansardum for the editing)
Author's Note: this story was originally submitted to our forum in the New Authors section. I've had a plan to revise and improve it for a long time and I took the chance of this workshop to do it. While I'll keep the old version online, this one has to be considered the definitive version.
Everything started in quite a silly way. It was Frank who 'come out' first. We have been together for more than two years now and for some reason he thought it was a good time to tell me. One night, after a great movie, he started talking to me about strong women. At first I thought he was speaking about athletes – which I kind of understood having a bit of a girl crush for Dara Torres myself – but, after a while, the described feats of strength became more and more outrageous and I slowly realized that he was talking about supergirls. I felt a bit jealous. It sounds quite silly but – even thou I’m no slouch myself – I was obviously millions of light years away from his dream girls.
At first I tried to dismissed the idea as childish but harmless. I mean there are people who collect Transformers even if they are in their 30s or 40s. I myself still have my stuffed Snoopy, from when I was 5, displayed in my bedroom. Still, the more I thought about it, the more I saw what he meant. There was a definite erotic potential. The next night I even dreamed about being Supergirl …
For about a week or so the idea spun in my head, until it hit me. Frank’s birthday was about six weeks ahead, and our third anniversary was just a few days later – he always joked that I was the best present he ever received. So, why not make this one really special? With this idea in my mind I started surfing the net, looking for a good super costume. Maybe I’m a bit of a perfectionist, but the bulk of what I saw didn’t convince me at all. They looked cheap. The fabric seemed weak and the textures were all wrong; and there was no chance to persuade me to buy something from a local costume shop. Eventually I stumbled upon an eBay seller called DressMaker7. According to their eBay page, they were an England based company that manufactured made-to-measure costumes. I took a look at their catalog and – while the prices were a little high – the clothes looked very well designed, sturdy and extremely well crafted. Suspecting a kind of cheat I reviewed the feedback. While they didn’t have a super-high feedback score, all the categories were rated 5 stars and the replies were nothing short of enthusiastic.
‘Greatest manufacture in the world.’
‘I got 1000% of what I paid for.’
‘A definite top seller’
And so on. Just to get a little more perspective, I contacted some of these eBayers to have some first-hand impressions. What I got were a boatload of excellent reviews – all by women – together with the discovery that my idea was hardly unique. Others had ordered almost every possible super heroine costume – one even went for a fully loaded Wonder Woman costume.
A bit reassured, I contacted them, first by e-mail, later by phone.
“Dress Maker 7 ltd. How can I help you?” the company secretary had a throaty low voice, hardly unpleasant, but strange.
“I’m looking for a costume but it’s not in your online catalog, so I was wondering if you can make it specifically.”
“Wait a moment please. I’ll put you through to production.”
30 seconds of John Williams's “Superman Theme” later, I heard the voice of an old man with a heavy British accent. “Hello. This is production department. How may I help you?”
I was growing more and more embarrassed by the second, it felt like I was revealing my secret fetish to someone I never actually met. “Ehrr … I was looking for a … a costume … a super heroine costume, that … that isn’t in your online catalog. So I was wondering if …”
“Oh, I understand. The catalogue is just a set of samples, madam. All our products are custom made, based upon the requests of the individual customer. May I ask, which costume are you looking for?”
I don’t know if it was the polite tone, the British accent or something else entirely, but his answer made me feel a lot more comfortable. I went on: “I saw a sort of black and silver version of Supergirl’s costume. I really like the color combination, so I was hoping you can make that.”
“Ah yes, the so-called ‘Evil Supergirl’ costume. A slightly uncommon request, but hardly a complex one. Upon which version of the Supergirl costume should it be based on?”
It sounded a little strange to hear a man, which I believed being in his 50s, make such a question, “I beg your pardon.”
“Under normal circumstances, we apply the colors to the so called ‘2000 Supergirl’ design, but we can easily apply them on one of the other designs, for example the ‘Classic Supergirl’.”
“The ‘2000’ is the one with the exposed belly, right?” I know Frank had a thing for my bellybutton.
“Yes, it is.”
“Then I’m fine with that.”
“Very well, madam. Now, I apologize for my rudeness, but I need your measurements.”
“As I said, madam: all of our products are custom made. As such, we need to know your exact measurement in order to craft the costume. If you are more comfortable, I can send you a spreadsheet to you e-mail address. In that case I must warn you that it must be returned within two working days. Otherwise your order will be placed at the bottom of the list.”
I thought for a minute, as polite and accommodating this man was, I wasn’t going to give him my measurements and vitals over the phone. “I prefer the sheet, if you don’t mind.”
“Very well, I’ll send it as soon as possible.”
It arrived really fast. In about half an hour I received an attached file with a very long and articulated spreadsheet. The first part was the expected measurements request: height, weight, B-W-H, body type, shoe size etc. What really surprised me was the second part. A bunch of medical data, ranging from known allergies to past skin diseases. Apparently, this was for choosing the kind of material, but to me it looked a little too in-depth. Finally, the third part asked a bunch of costume details: how close to the comic book (I choose as close as possible), how short the skirt, how high the heels (I usually prefer low, but since this was gift I decided for something high and sexy), the style of the belt buckle and so on. I sent it back and in another half an hour I got their bank details.
Six weeks later, I received the package. It was a strange period. Frank was away for a refresh course and I had plenty of spare time. The result was that I often started to daydream and found myself scribbling little caped figures on the brink of my notepad, or practicing Supergirl signature power pose in front of a mirror. It would've have been quite embarrassing if I did that in public.
Anyway when I opened the package I thought there was something strange, the costume was there, but it had a strange shiny look, like it was made of latex or rubber, but when I grabbed it I felt nice and smooth like it was silk or Egyptian cotton, apart from the boots which were made of a sturdier leather-like material. I didn’t know what kind of fabric it was, but the craftsmanship was incredible, the seams were so small that I couldn’t spot them. Excited I decided to try it on immediately and, wow, how tight it was. The top fitted perfectly and left very little to imagination – even with my sport-bra underneath there was a little hint of my nipples – the sleeves clung on every detail of my arms accentuating the impression of a subtle but defined muscular tone. I was simply in love with the way the shiny black material outlined my body, while smothering out imperfections at the same time. The skirt was no less amazing, it was cut quite short, enough to let me show off my legs – legs that after 10 years of semi-professional swimming, I’m quite proud of – but also long enough to protect my modesty. I left aside cape and boots and went over to the full-length mirror and, wow, I never thought I would look this good in costume. Just for fun I stroke a couple of poses, then I noticed something strange. The belt buckle looked a little lose, very weird considering the crazy amount of quality control on this thing, thinking that it was just a little loose I started pulling and pushing until it clicked …
She soared through the night sky silent as a bird of prey in slow lazy circles high above the city. She loved the sensation of the cold night air, how it washed over her body. The cacophony of the nightlife below was a fascinating mixture, everything was so vibrant and clear to her. Greedily she let her senses run wild, fully drinking from the cup of wonderful sensations below. Millions of colors, trillions of smells, the words of countless conversations filled her mind each one perfectly distinct and defined, each one unique and unrepeatable, each one located with pin-point accuracy in the great sea of life below, thousands of people living their lives without a clue of having a positively unique voyeur high above their heads.
Still undecided about what to do, she opened her arms and executed a couple of slow spins in midair, but before she completed the second she froze and focused all her senses upon an alley two miles away. In mere seconds, she was hovering over her intended target, two men robbing a lone girl. The first was a short brute, with a completely clean shaved head, who was pinning the girl against the hood of a car at knife point; the second – a little taller and more hairy – was busy searching her bag. The girl was thin, with a bob of blonde hair, not pretty enough to make a living out of it. but enough to be noticed.
“P … pl … please …” she sighed “Let me go …”
The shaven thug sneered and laughed under his breath, he moved his knife in a significant way cutting the strings of the first two buttons of the girl’s blouse. “Maybe. Maybe we can, if you’r’ very good with us.”
“P … please …” she stammered.
He was about to pop another button when a mezzo-soprano voice, resounding with authority, filled the alley. “Didn’t you hear her asshole? She asked nicely to let her go.”
Both thugs turned and stared, even the girl eyed the scene between the tears. In the middle of the alley, hovering about 5 feet from the ground, there was a woman. The most impressive female specimen any of them had ever seen. Head to toes her body was slender and covered with long sleek muscles – not the burly muscles of a bodybuilder, rather the toned well defined muscles of an Olympic class athlete. Yet she also had the curves and femininity of a fashion model. She was clad in a shiny black costume with a silver “S” crest proudly displayed over her stacked chest. A couple of fiery red locks rested upon her shoulder, while the rest of her head was still shrouded in darkness, except for her cold burning icy blue eyes – so fierce that looked like they were bursting flames – and her pearly white teeth, open in a ferocious smile.
“Well?” she asked while crossing her arms over the crest “Didn’t you hear what I said?”
For the two men their actions spoke louder than words, the bald one gripped the girl neck and moved the knife away, while his pal drew a big, nasty looking revolver from his waistband and pointed it to the flying woman. From her point of view they were so pathetically clumsy. Without losing her composure she concentrated for a moment on the gunman. As soon as the barrel was aimed, she fired an invisible, super-hot microwave beam through it melting the end of the barrel and the tip of the bullet in single mass and causing the gunpowder to ignite. The subsequent explosion wasn’t very powerful, but it was enough to violently shatter the revolver and damage the man's hand. The last thing the thug heard, before passing out from the pain and shock, was the sound of the gun dropping from his now ruined hand.
“Bitch, what have you done?!?”
Mocking surprise she smirked “Me? Did you see me do anything? Did I move? Well NOW I’m going to move, asshole!”
For a second her figure became blurry. The man blinked a couple of times, but all he felt was a gust a wind and a sharp tug to his right hand. A split second later she was in the same position as before holding his knife. He was speechless.
She balanced the blade on the tip of her finger and weighted it for a moment “A nice tool. But with a little defect, don’t you agree?” she smiled, “Fortunately I can fix that easily.”
Without waiting for an answer, she stuck out her tongue and held the knife in her right hand then she started licking the edge like a child with an ice cream cone. The metal squeaked in protest but it was obviously useless. After a moment, she dropped the weapon to him. “There, I think that now is fixed.”
Like in a dream the man slid his thumb along the edge, it was completely dull. His hand started to shake uncontrollably. The woman slowly descended and landed with a slight click from her high heels. Like a track runner after the starter shot, the thug fled the scene as fast as he could. She started laughing, a long musical sound that only fueled his legs to new heights of speed. He ran randomly across the neighborhood, every time he was slowing down a little the echo of her laugh reached his ears causing another shot of adrenaline. His lungs were burning, his heart pounding like a jackhammer, his vision was blurring, so he failed to see the 2-by-4 until it was too late. The impact was terrible, his nose shattered and two teeth flew out of his mouth. He stumbled along the pavement, between the flashes of pain he saw the girl he had tried to rob just minutes ago approaching. He realized he had run in circles.
“BASTARD!!” she screamed kicking him in the balls and continuing up to his stomach, accompanying each stroke with an insult. After half a dozen kicks, she stopped and faced the superwoman just a few paces from her.
“Aren't you going to stop me?”
The woman grinned and looked at the thugs with contempt “No, I’m not. But you shouldn’t kill them. I’ll call the police in a minute, until then they are all yours.” She smiled and started to lift from the ground. “Enjoy it.”
For a long moment the girl stared at the night sky until the Superwoman had disappeared from her sight, then she returned to her little revenge.
I woke up the next morning feeling quite funny, every joint in my body ached like I had been through a mincer, but the brain was perfectly clear and relaxed. I realized I went to bed wearing the costume – well the top and the skirt – but it wasn’t particularly wrinkled or ruined. The strange thing was that the cape, the boots and the belt were piled in a corner I didn’t recall placing them there, but I didn’t recall going to bed either, so go figure. Going to the bathroom, I passed in front of my full-length mirror and took a moment to appraise myself, lifting my right arm, I flexed causing my bicep to jump up. “Well, hello Supergirl.” I smiled. Despite the ache I couldn’t help but love how the costume looked on me, I could almost say that it made my breast stand out a little more than usual.
I went for a shower and a giant breakfast, both did wonders to improve my disposition. As soon as I returned to my bedroom, the ache had subsided and I felt like I was supercharged. By the end of the morning I had tidied up half of my flat, and I wasn’t tired at all. While collecting some clothes from my bedroom I accidentally kicked the costume box and a little book slid out, the cover said ‘Instruction’. I was puzzled what good was a 60 page instruction booklet for a costume, I mean aside from the usual washing icons and a disclaimer for eventual allergic reactions – which can be easily packed in a single leaflet. Smelling some kind of giant prank I opened it and started to read.
After twenty minutes I was… dumbfounded – I never really understood what it meant before. Either I was the subject of the biggest prank in the history of British humor or I really got more than I paid for. Logic dictated that it had to be a prank. There was no way for this to be real, but there were also proof of the contrary: the strange material of the costume, the tiredness in the morning and the dream. I couldn’t help but getting thrilled and a little excited when I thought about it, I’ve dreamed of having super-powers a couple of times before, but it was never so vivid, this time I really felt like I was able to fly – not to mention beat the crap out of some low-lives. Looking for some more info I thought about searching the news, but, considering how improbable the whole story was, I wrote it out. Then I got it, Kerren.
Kerren was the nick of one of the eBayers that I contacted to have info about the quality of the costumes, specifically the one with the “full-optional” Wonder Woman costume. She was very kind and discreet so we exchanged MSN contacts. Hoping to find her online I switched the laptop on and sent a note. A couple of hours later she answered.
Red_102 – Hello, Kerren how’s going?
Kerren – Hi girl. I’m doing great, what about you? And the package?
Red_102 – Fine. It arrived yesterday… but I’m a little puzzled about it.
Kerren – What? Don’t you like the extras?
Red_102 – Hey, I’m just Supergirl. Wonder Woman is the one which is loaded with extras, right?
Kerren – Don’t know. I always thought that X-Ray vision was freaking cool.
My fingers froze on the keyboard for what felt like an eternity, she has just said X-Ray vision … So it was real … My dream was real …
Red_102 – Don’t know I haven’t tried it yet.
Kerren – No?? So what have you tried?
Red_102 – To be 100% honest, I’m not sure. Flight and strength, I think. But I thought it was just a costume.
Kerren – Well it’s a lot more and a lot better.
Red_102 – Yeah. But how? Why?
Kerren – Really don’t know girl. I had the same questions when I got mine, but after a while I learned just to enjoy it.
Red_102 – Sounds a little too carefree to me.
Kerren – I know, I even flew to UK trying to get some explanation from the company, but I got nothing.
Red_102 – You mean they didn’t answer you.
Kerren – No, I mean that the company exists only on paper, no offices, no personal, no address, just a phone number and an eBay account. Weird.
Red_102 – To say the least I’m starting to think it wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Kerren – Don’t be silly. Listen I’ve got an idea, meet me at the top of Golden Gate Bridge in an hour, ok. Certain things are better discussed in person.
Red_102 – The Golden Gate, you mean in Frisco. But I live thousands of miles away.
Kerren – Well, what kind of Supergirl are you? Afraid of a little flight.
Red_102 – Well… no, but this evening I have an appointment… and I’m not sure of how to handle this…
Kerren – Ok, listen I won’t push you, but believe me the only way to get used to these kind of things is using them. The more you try the better you’ll be, plus it really help to get into the right shape, got it?
For a couple of moments I was lost in my thoughts. I didn’t have ‘real’ appointment, just an half spoken agreement with a couple of colleagues to go to the local pub, nothing too serious. Licking my lips I reviewed those few fragments of my dream that I was able to recall, which made my whole body tingle with excitement – and perhaps a bit of arousal. I took my decision.
Red_102 – On second thought, I’ll come.
Kerren – Great but what about your appointment?
Red_102 – I’ll deal with it. See you in two hours.
Kerren – Hey I said one.
Red_102 – I still have thing to do before leaving.
Kerren – Ok, see you.
An hour and fifty seven minutes later I was sitting atop the Golden Gate Bridge, on the tower farthest from the city. It was a pretty cold evening and the oceanic wind was chilling. Thinking of it with hindsight, it was a bit strange that I could recall that, since I didn't feel any discomfort at all, despite my meager attire. Anyway I had been there for a few minutes and I was growing impatient. I started tapping my fingers against the concrete – I know it's a bad habit. A moment later my super-hearing detected a moaning sound and I stopped, the sound stopped as well. Puzzled I tried to tap my fingers again and the sound started again. I realized that my tapping was rocking the support cables, that made me a bit afraid of my new strength. I shivered and wrapped my arms around my legs looking for some kind of reassurance. Trying to distract myself I scanned the interior as far as my supervision allowed me – and that's pretty far – but I saw no sign of any flying woman coming my way. Wonder Woman does fly, right?
I was wondering if I missed Kerren completely, before realizing that she never told me where on the Golden Gate we had to meet. I zoomed on the other tower and noticed the silhouette of a tall woman on top of it. I took off and flew toward the San Francisco skyline.
“Hey, I’m up here.” I called.
She turned and … Holy S***, what a body!!!
Usually I'm not a very look-conscious person. I mean, I take care of how I look within the boundaries of decency, but I'm not the kind of girl that obsesses over an ounce or two in excess. Yet, she made me feel more than a bit inadequate.
I never really got what the word 'amazon' really meant. At least not until then. At first glance she was at least 5'9”, without the heels, and she was big. Not fat, mind you, rather broad shouldered, with toned muscles all over, wide hips and super long legs. Her waist was – maybe – a little too broad, but it would have looked ridiculous in any other way, especially with her massive – probably an E cup – breasts on top of it. Her polished dark brown skin – which looked like living mahogany – made the primary colors and metallic accessories of her attire popping out even more. Topping everything, she had a lovely round face with jet black eyes and long raven black hair, which spun all the way down to her bottom and were tied in a thousand thin dreadlocks.
In short she looked like a cross between a warrior-woman and an African fertility goddess.
“Hi, it’s Red, right.” She smiled and extended her hand, “You can call me Kay.”
“Right. Wasn’t it Kerren?” I answered with a bit of unease, she had quite the grip.
“Kerren is just my nick, sort of misspelling of my real name. And you, I can see why they call you 'Red'. I’ve never seen such a fiery hair before.”
I think I blushed a bit at that point and I pulled the hair behind my ear. “The name’s is Sharon, but people call me Shane.”
“Surely, you don’t look like Alan Ladd to me.” she laughed.
I giggled, usually people don't get that reference. “Actually, it's because my grandmother was Yiddish, her name was Shana. People say that I look just like her – minus the hair, these are from my father family – but in grade school none could pronounce it right, so it became Shane and I stitched to it.”
“Right. So, are you ready for some super-fun down there?” Kay pointed to the downtown.
“Ehr … dressed like this?” Kay sounded like a really nice girl, but I was far from confident enough to go downtown Frisco in costume.
Kay smiled knowingly – which was something that doesn't actually suit her – and made a half-curtsy, like she was an actress, then she jutted out her arms and started to spin. In just two flips her speed had increase to the point that I couldn't make out her shape, aside from a red and brown blur. There was an electrical build-up that caused my hair to flip around like it was alive. There was small puff of smoke and a sound like a muffled thunder as Kay stopped, hands on her hips. The costume was gone in its place she was wearing a short, blue, one shoulder, tube dress that went down to the half of her thighs, a pair of matching ankle boots with high heels and a pair of dark fishnets. Even her make-up had slightly changed to match her new look, but beneath it her body was as astonishing as before.
My eyes were wide as two saucers and my voice came out with a hint of jealousy: “Wow, that’s impressive.”
“Meaning you can’t do that.”
“I don’t know. The instructions didn’t mention it and I’ve never tried that stunt. How’s it done?”
“First set down here.” She smiled. I noticed just then that I was still floating half a foot from the concrete. “Then try to visualize in your mind the outfit you want, better start with something simple and familiar, ok?”
“Yeah, I think I got it.” I was thinking of my favorite T-shirt and tracksuit.
“Now use your speed to spin as fast as you can, until you feel a sort of static building up from your feet. When it reaches the maximum stop and let see the result.”
I tried, really hard. I spun like a spinning top and nothing happened. Nothing except drilling a little hole in the concrete with one of my heels and leaving me with a mild seasickness. Trying to rebalance myself I sat on the edge of the tower and the inspiration struck me. “Doh. I think we are really blonde.”
Kay frowned as if the phrase hurt her. “Why?”
“Remember when you mentioned x-ray vision.”
“Yeah so … Oh … got it. Different costume, different powers, right?”
“Right. As far as I know Supergirl never had any kind of instant costume transformation power. So I guess I’m stuck like this.” I said pinching my top.
Kay tapped her chin for moment. “Maybe not.” She spun around again, re-transforming in her blue and red costume and taking off. “Follow me.”
“Hey!” I shouted while leaping after her, “Where are you taking me?”
“My sister lives in Sausalito, I think you can borrow some of her stuff.” Kay opened her arms and executed a double loop. “Let see if you can keep up.” She laughed shooting toward the horizon.
Minutes later we were hovering above a medium sized condo in the outskirts of Sausalito. Kay pointed out one of the balconies on the next to top floor. “Here we are. And by the looks of it she's home.”
I was about to reply, when Kay started to dive toward the window. I freaked out for a moment, before rushing after her and grabbing her shoulder to stop her. “What do you think you're doing?”
Kay looked at me with a puzzled expression. “Going down to visit my sister?”
Kay's face showed a gigantic smile as she realized. “You didn't tell anyone about this, did you?”
It was my turn to be puzzled. “No, but …”
“Take my word for it. You'll need to. Now can you let me go?”
“Oh, sorry.” I said while removing my hand, “So, your sister knows about this.”
“You'll see for yourself.” Kay answered before swooping down to the balcony and tapped the french window. I joined her just a moment later as her sister was coming to open the french window.
I have to say that I could see the family resemblance. The sisters were of similar build and height. Kay was perhaps a tad of an inch shorter, but made up in her slightly more generous bust and hips size. There was only one not-so-little detail that made the thing whole thing weird, very weird: Kay's sister was the truest definition of “Valkyrie” I've ever seen – an extra-large, blonde, fair skinned, sapphire-eyed Valkyrie.
While the sisters embraced each other, I was seriously considering to bail. As I said I'm not a slouch, nor a very look-conscious person, but standing next to this pair of amazons, was really making me embarrassed. Before I could make up my mind, the blonde broke the embrace and walked to me with a friendly smile and an extended hand: “Nice to meet you. I'm Janet.” she boomed.
“Hi, I'm Sharon.”
“So, mind to tell me, what do you have to do with that disaster of a sister of mine?”
Kay intervened in the discussion: “I want to take Sharon clubbing downtown, but she need a change of clothes. I was hoping that you could lend her something.”
“I see two major problems with your plan, sis. One, I don't think that any of my trousers will ever fit her. Two,” she quickly pulled off her sweater revealing a dazzling white leotard with a … boob window. It took me a couple of seconds to realize that it was a Power Girl costume made of the same stuff as my own. “I don't think I'll allow you to go without me.”
I was about to reply, but Janet grabbed my arm and pulled me into the other room. I was kind of dazed and I didn't think about trying to stop her – even so I don't think I could – at least not before she had opened her drawer and tossed me a few long sleeved shirts. “I think that these should work for you. Well, if you tie up the corners, I mean.”
Minutes later the three of us got out of Janet's home – she didn't want to leave the window open – and took off from a remote alley. Target: downtown Frisco.
I woke up the next morning with a funny sensation, it was a wild night and despite having only slept for two hours I was completely refreshed and energized. Kay and Janet were quite the characters They explained to me that they were actually adopted sisters, their parents married when they were both 4 years old – yes they are of the same age.
Anyway, we hit downtown SF in a few minutes and started clubbing. Obviously, being 3 women all quite tall, well endowed and quite muscular (even if I say so myself), we were bound to attract some attention. At first it was quite fun. I'm not the kind of girl who like to club hard, but it was funny to try it for once. Well, at least until one stupid kid tried to pinch Kay’s cheeks. Not that he had any chance, but she caught him in the act and demanded an immediate apology. I don’t know if he was drunk, stupid or both, but he laughed in her face saying that he will never apologize to a black b***h. The reaction was obvious and in a minute the club was a giant brawl of dozens of men against the three of us, and they never stood a chance. I tried to pull my punches as much as possible, but I was pretty sure that some of them won’t recover any time soon.
It took us less time to end the fight than to start it, but after the dust had settled there was one big problem, how to cook up a decent cover for the damage, especially for Janet – living nearby and being quite the looker – she was the most likely to be recognized. In a moment I got a couple of good ideas, first Janet and me scanned the walls with x-ray to locate the main water pipeline serving the club. Next – while the girls were speeding to Janet's house to set up her alibi – I looked for a way to make it rupture without ripping it out of the wall. I went down into the sewers – God bless the selective super-smell – and located a junction. It took only a moment to unscrew it, then I blew with as much force as I could, increasing the water pressure. All the taps, toilets and pipelines exploded simultaneously washing the scene with several hundred liters of high pressure water.
Now, I admit I’m not proud of that, but the situation called for some drastic measure.
Anyway Frank was about to be back in the late afternoon, and the anniversary date was looming on me so I had to get myself ready. I practiced the clothes changing routine for hours and, in the meantime, confirmed what Janet told me, that I didn't have to wear the whole costume for the effect to take place. Top, skirt and belt were apparently enough. For our date I decided to use the boots too.
Fast forward to anniversary evening. The routine was the usual one, dinner, movie and a long stroll up to our special spot, a very secluded lookout just few minutes out of town. As usual, the best laid schemes of mice and men tend to go in a certain way.
Frank's behavior was … a bit strange. On one hand, he had been clumsy and kind of nervous during the whole evening, he kept making strange mistakes – like paying thirty dollars, instead of thirteen, or tripping on his own feet while looking for his seat at cinema – on the other, he was extra careful and kind to me, even more than usual. I started smelling something weird and got nervous, lucky me he appeared not to notice that I almost squeezed the dessert fork into a steel colored play dough blob.
So, great dinner, not so much for the movie – but I’m probably too picky – and everything was going fine, except for Frank. Even without super-senses I could tell he was sweating like pig at a BBQ, and his mouth twitched in a funny way, like he was about to ask or tell something but couldn't find the words.
“Honey,” I inquired “Are you all right?”
In a split second his perspiration rate tripled “Well … In a way … It’s just, I have something on my mind and …”
“Care to share?”
“Not now, maybe later … I’m just trying to figure out something.”
“Well as soon as you’ve done, let me know, I don’t like you like this.” I mocked, hugging him very carefully.
We were about to kiss when something stopped me, it was like when you hear a mosquito buzzing around, you can’t pinpoint exactly where it is, but you know it's growing closer. Seconds later a SUV came around the corner and screeched along the street. At the last second I jumped out of its trajectory, dragging Frank with me, just before the blasted thing stopped in the exact spot we stood a moment ago. I admit the stroll from the theater to the lookout isn't in the best part of town, but nothing like this had ever happened to us.
Three kids – I will never grace someone capable of such a stupid stunt with the name of 'men' – were howling and laughing loud, two of them slapping hands and cheering the driver who, in return, was showing a grin that was supposed to exude coolness. I was pissed like never before, I stomped the ground hard – causing a little shock-wave in the process – and shouted: “Hey you, assholes! You almost killed us!”
I didn’t know if they were drunk, under some kind of drug, just plain stupid or all at once, but their answers were quite straightforward. The driver's grin growth as he turned to his friends: “Well check out the lady, guys. She looks pretty angry to me, maybe we should apologize.”
A little duet of muffled laughs answered his claim. As he proclaimed in a horrible falsetto: “Sorry lady.”
“That’s not good enough.” I hissed. Frank seemed to be still out cold, being squeezed between the pavement and my new invulnerable body was probably too much for him.
“Really.” The falsetto continued, “So maybe we should apologize in another way.” He continued making a certain very meaningful gestures.
I grinned. “I thought you’ll never ask.”
Before they had the chance to answer I strode to the SUV and slightly caressed the rim, obviously an alloy wheel, then I secured my grip on it and with a little pull ripped it and a piece of the axle from the vehicle. I hosted it in front of my face and laughed, “Well, this surely help, it’s a great stress relief.”
With an inarticulate scream the driver jumped out of the car and tried to tackle me. He looked comically uncoordinated so, rather than letting him rebound against my body, I grabbed his shirt at super-speed and lifted him up. “Now wasn’t that a little stupid? I mean, you just saw me ripping this from your toy car. What did you hope to accomplice barehanded?”
The second kid stepped out from the backseat and drew a switchblade. Since I already had my hands full I simply let him land his blow. He stabbed me straight in the belly. The blade squeaked and howled for a split second, before breaking against my abs of steel. I laughed under my breath as the kid lifted the broken blade and trembled, just before I smashed him and his pal together as a human sandwich.
For a moment I stood there oblivious of the third kid, until I heard a loud bang and a felt a tap between my shoulder blades. While I was busy with his pals, he had picked up an automatic pistol. He pulled the trigger as fast as he could. In that moment my super-speed kicked in full force. It was kinda like the final fight in Matrix, when Neo stops the bullets in midair. The bullets were slowly floating toward me. Just for the sake of attempt, I decided to try something odd. I grabbed the axle with both hands and started spinning it, intercepting the bullets with the rubber tire. In about 12 seconds we both heard the dead man’s click, so I smiled and presented him the rubber pralined with bullets, “That was funny, now what are you going to do? Apologize, I hope.”
Unfortunately, all he could do was babbling incoherently, so I vaulted over the hood landing in front of him. He sagged and tried to backpedal from me. I just yanked him by the front of his shirt, tapped him lightly on the forehead and carried him to the pile with the rest of his pals.
“Wow, – cough – that was surely unexpected!” Frank coughed.
I zipped next to him “Honey! How do you feel?”
He smiled forcefully “It hurts … but I think I have … just a couple of bad bruises. The ribs feel alright.”
I took his hand and helped him standing up. Realizing that he had seen at least some of my stunts, I smiled uneasily. “Well, since my surprise was spoiled, I’m going to speed yours up.”
I scooped him up and took off from the crash site, it was just a matter of minutes – I had to fly slowly since he wasn’t invulnerable as me – to reach the lookout. I placed him on the ground and smiled “Well, here we are, so now what is your surprise?”
It took two full second for the words to flow from his brain to his mouth, but when they arrived it was like a flood. Question overlapped one on the next, exclamations punctuated a completely incoherent speech. When he paused to get his breath back I took him under the arms and stood him up. “Honey, now please, get a grip of yourself and calm down for a moment, will you.”
He breathed heavily and took a couple of step back, he was wide-eyed like a kid on Xmas morning. “Sharon,” that was a sign that he was getting serious, he usually called me S or Shane, he never used my full name unless it was important “I need to know, how long this have been going on?”
“Your powers, that costume,” I noticed only then that the upper part of my coat was open and the “S” on my top was visible. “How long have you had them?”
“Just less than a week.” I was a little embarrassed this was an unexpected reaction. “It was my surprise …”
He looked at me with an undecipherable expression, there was definitely a bit of awe, but other than that his feeling looked extremely contrasting, “Since you told me your secret I think I have to tell you mine. Sharon I, kind of … lied to you.”
Anger surged through my mind even faster than me. I know this isn't a rational thing to do, but lying is one of those things that makes me go ballistic “YOU WHAT?!?” I screamed causing some landscape damage and knocking him on his butt.
“Sharon I …”
I marched forward and lifted him by the collar, “YOU WHAT!?!?”
“SHARON-I-LIED-ABOUT-THE-COURSE-IT-WASN’T-A-COURSE-AT-ALL-I-WENT-TO-NEW-YORK-TO-SIGN-A-NEW-CONTRACT” he spilled out at incredible speed.
I lowered him a couple of inches “A new contract?”
“Yeah, I got promoted.”
“Honey this is wonderful!” I smiled.
“Glad you like.” he smiled back uneasy, “Can you please put me down?”
“Sorry.” I laughed. “So this was your surprise.”
He got back to his feet “Actually, no. This was just the preamble.”
I widened my eyes as Frank produced a small box and opened it, a small diamond shined on a silver ring. “Sharon, will you marry me?”