Milena's Diary Chapter 7

Written by conceptfan :: [Sunday, 01 December 2002 07:55] Last updated by :: [Saturday, 22 September 2012 11:35]

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Milena’s Diary

 

 

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

All of my stories have been written for an exclusively adult audience. They contain descriptions of violence, some of it of a sexual nature. They also include other sexually explicit depictions. They are in no way suitable for minors. Furthermore it is against the law in many parts of the world for this type of material to be read, either by minors or by minors and adults. Please make sure you are not acting contrary to local legislation before reading on and please do not read any further if you find this type of material offensive in any way.

This is a work of fiction and any similarity between the characters and events depicted and any people/events in real-life, past or present, is purely co-incidence. A number of the characters and events portrayed are inspired by, or based upon, existing works of fiction. Although I have made every effort to keep plagiarism to a minimum, I must acknowledge a debt of thanks to the many artists and writers who have shared their talents with the public.

I've released my stories to the public domain to make sure that as many people as possible who share my interest in this type of fiction can enjoy them. Please feel free to re-distribute them by whatever means you like, provided you respect the following points: (1) The stories will be re-distributed exactly as they are - unchanged and unedited. (2) No other person will claim authorship of any of these stories or any part of them. (3) The stories will not be distributed for profit, either on their own or as part of a group of other works.

Lastly, thank you for your interest in this story. I hope you enjoy it!

 

 

 

Wednesday 16th May 2001 - 8:00 pm

 

Ah, this is more like it!  Now I really feel super.  I've found some accommodation that better suits the new me.  Of course, no mere building could ever be as beautiful - or, come to think of it, as powerful - as I am these days, but at least my surroundings now are a vast improvement on that horrible little shack in the woods.  Although, looking around, I can see that this place is going to need a bit of redecoration.  All those bullet-marks.  And the mess in the basement.  Not forgetting the blood stains.  Or the corpses downstairs.  Still, it'll do.  And it was so much fun to acquire, even if it wasn't exactly a run-of-the-mill property deal...  Anyway, I'd better start with what happened after I finished writing the last entry.

After all the fun I had in the sky this morning, I originally decided to take things easy for the rest of the day.  Once I'd written down everything I'd done, I just laid down in a clearing in the forest to soak up some sun.  Seeing as not even a missile exploding at point-blank range had managed to leave a mark on my lovely "new" skin, I didn't really expect to catch a tan, but the warmth felt nice enough.  In fact, I felt terrific - like I have done ever since the genie worked his magic.  Despite my earlier exertions, I wasn't in the least bit tired and it was a little strange to be relaxing when I was buzzing with energy.

I closed my eyes. but I was so alert and awake that they soon popped open.  From my position flat on the ground, I was staring straight at the midday sun.  It took me a few moments to realize that I was doing something no other person can because the incredible brightness caused me no discomfort whatsoever.  I spent a few moments observing individual flares shooting from the edges of the sun, marveling at yet another of my incredible new abilities.  My "super" vision is fantastic.  I could even follow the flight of a tiny bird as it crossed in front of the glaring heavenly fireball.   But seeing the bird reminded me that I, too, am free to travel the skies now.  That's when I decided there was no point lying around doing nothing when I could be enjoying myself soaring through the air.

As an experiment, I thought I'd try taking flight without bothering to stand up first.  Well, that was the idea.  To be honest, I might be a goddess but I'm not quite perfect yet.  It took me a couple of seconds to work out how to do it.  First, I had to get it wrong once.  I had a pretty good idea which muscles to tense to raise my horizontal form skyward -  but it soon turned out that I wasn't so sure exactly how to tense them.  In fact, I got it completely incorrect.  Instead of floating gloriously upwards, my body moved straight down!  The biggest problem was that, at that moment, I was flat on my back on the forest floor.  I might have expected the hard ground to have blocked my attempted movement, but I suppose I'm still learning that mere physical barriers have little relevance to me now.

So, rather than soaring towards the clouds, I sunk rapidly into the Earth.  I barely felt the compacted soil and tree roots yielding beneath me or the dislodged dirt and debris falling on top of me as I descended through the ground.  My outstretched body carved a shaft straight down - sort of like an empty grave but many times deeper.  So much deeper that by the time I reacted to the situation and relaxed my muscles to stop the downward "flight", my back and rear had slammed through a good half-meter of bedrock.  I'd pulverized fifty centimeters of solid stone with nothing but my prostrate body!  I lay there for an instant, amazed at what I had just done and marveling at my power.  If I hadn't stopped would I have continued burrowing through the ground until I went through the center of the Earth and emerged on the other side of the globe?  I must try it someday.

At the time, however, I was more interested in being above the world than in its core.  Having made such a mess of trying to levitate myself the first time, I completely reversed the way I tightened my muscles in my calves and forearms for my second attempt.  To my delight, it worked.   My back instantly came off the bottom of the pit I'd created and I was aware of earth walls flashing past me as I rose, still in a relaxed, lying position.  Soon enough, I flashed by the edge of my new hole.  Now I was heading in the direction I wanted.  Needless to say, floating upwards in such a comfortable manner is as effortless as it is enjoyable but, of course, just about everything I do these days is effortless...

Looking up at the sky as I levitated ever higher, I saw a thick, overhanging tree-branch rushing to meet me.  Or rather I was "rushing" to meet it.  More precisely still, my face was on a collision course with the branch.  Sure, I could have stopped my ascent or easily steered my body around the obstacle to avoid hitting it, but where would the fun have been in doing that?  So, instead I kept on heading at a steady (if slow, compared to what I'm capable of) pace in a dead straight line.  My nose hit the branch first and then an instant later, the forest echoed with the sound of straining timber.

I fought the instinct to blink just at the moment of impact and was rewarded with a close-up view of the sixty-centimeter thick wooden off-shoot bending as I pushed it upwards with nothing but the tip of my pretty nose (and my powers of flight.)  I must've been exerting amazing amounts of pressure through such a small part of my body, but I felt no discomfort where the rough bark was pressing against me.  Pretty quickly, in fact, I pushed the branch further than it could accommodate and with an almighty cracking sound it tore away from the tree.  The great chunk bounced off my cheek, a blow which would probably have killed a man, but which was more like a lover's caress to me.

Up I floated, still "flat" on my back.  I heard the broken branch crashing down on the ground below, shaking the forest floor.  Finally, I turned my head and looked down on the tree tops far below.  I let the strong rays of the sun wash deliciously over my body as I absent-mindedly viewed the forest.  It was pretty from up there, but I soon came to the conclusion that it was nothing special.  Certainly, I thought, it wasn't the place you would expect to find the most powerful person on Earth.  I caught sight of the little wooden shack where I had hid when I first arrived in that part of the world.   It definitely was not worthy of me.  I resolved to find somewhere more appropriate to make my base.

I think it's taking me a while to get used to being super.  I must have spent a minute or two figuring out how I could get myself a nice bit of real estate without any money until the little light bulb appeared over my head and I remembered my powers.  Who needs money when they can lift a car and bounce bullets off their skin?  So, I started making plans to rob a bank to get some cash.  They weren't very elaborate plans, to be fair - more something along the lines of: walk into the bank (if the door is closed or locked, knock it down first), walk through the security doors, ignore security guard's bullets, push people out of the way with a finger if necessary, rip open the safe, take the money and walk out.

I was grinning to myself as I thought about how easy it would be, when another thought occurred to me.  Instead of raiding a bank, I could cut out the middle men and just help myself to the home of my choice.  After all, I reckoned I would be able to persuade the current occupier of my chosen residence to sign the place over to me... perhaps in exchange for, say, being allowed to live.  And if whoever it was objected to the terms of the deal, well, they'd be welcome to fight me over it.

But where was I going to find a suitable place?  My first idea was just to fly around for a while and see if anything caught my eye and with that in mind,  I started building up a mental picture of my ideal home.  Pretty quickly, I realized that I was imagining a grander version of the house that had been my home for years until a few mornings ago.  Then I had a wild notion: why couldn't I just go back there?  Sure, I had fled from fear first of my Uncle's thugs, then of the police.  But that was before I'd so easily defeated a squadron of military jets.  What could a couple of Tony's pet gunmen or a bunch of overweight policemen do to me?

Attractive though the idea was, I didn't want to start a war, even if the outcome was a foregone conclusion.  I began to weigh up the options.  The more I thought about it, the surer I was that I would be able to get the boys in blue off my back permanently.   All I would have to do would be to borrow a leaf from my dear Uncle's book, and come to some sort of arrangement with the local District Commander.  With my "muscle", not to mention my invulnerability, I knew I would be able to negotiate a deal on far better terms than Tony had ever managed.  But even if I got the police to leave me alone, there would still be the matter of Tony himself.

Of course, I wasn't worried about him sending a hit-man or six after me.  I've taken a direct hit from a speeding airplane and quite enjoyed it.  A few goons with pop-guns wouldn't trouble me in the slightest.  Although, if they kept on trying they might eventually become a little boring.  I berated myself for not removing Tony from the equation when I had the chance.  Instead, I had taken my time and let him get away.   That left an irritating loose end because, of course, I never got to "thank" the man for trying to kill me.  If he hadn't, I wouldn't have met the genie. 

By now, I had convinced myself that if I could get Tony and the police out of the way, there would be nothing stopping me moving back into my home.   Then, a most obvious thought struck me:  I was looking for a property more in keeping with the new me.  My house, although lovely and comfortable, is hardly the abode of a goddess.  Perhaps I could find an alternative home in the vicinity.  I racked my brain to think of the grandest residence in my home town.  Immediately, a place sprung to mind.   It had one big advantage: I already knew the owner.  His name?  Mr. Tony Alto.   I decided there and then that I was time to try and arrange another appointment with my Uncle.

Five minutes later, I was flying West, over the coastline, towards home.  I had to keep my speed down at something like a twentieth of my maximum, because I was carrying my suitcase and I didn't want it to disintegrate.  Remembering what happened this morning when I'd tried to make an airborne sea-crossing, I was excitedly looking around for any military jets that might have been in the area.  Then, I thought of the heavy case dangling from my single finger, as light as a sheet of paper to me.  Rockets and bullets can't hurt me, but they could destroy my suitcase and its contents, which included this diary.

Sadly, I couldn't stuff the thing inside my indestructible vest as it was far too large, especially considering how hard my upper garment has to work merely to contain my fabulous new bust.  With regret, I realized that I would have to avoid any explosions until I could put the case down somewhere safe.  The few action movies I've seen gave me the idea that I could avoid being spotted by radar by flying low, so I dived down towards the ocean beneath me.  The water streaked by as I flew just a meter above the surface, the bottom of the suitcase occasionally skimming the waves.  Disappointed at missing out on the fun of tangling with the air force, I consoled myself with the thought that I would get to see plenty of action when I got to Tony's.

The journey over the sea passed by uneventfully.  I changed course to avoid a few fishing boats as I didn't want anyone to know that I was coming.  In the end, mostly because of the slow speed at which I was traveling, it was a whole hour before I crossed the shore of my country.  Immediately, I spotted the entrance to the cave where I met the genie.  It seemed the most obvious place to stash my bag, so I swooped in and deposited my luggage.  As I turned to leave, I caught sight of a rotting human corpse slumped in the corner.  I recognized it immediately - Freddie, one of Tony's men.  The first person I'd killed after the genie had done his stuff.  I felt almost nostalgic.

Leaving Freddie's remains to guard my case, I soared into the sky, free now to go as fast as I wanted.  Thirty seconds later, I descended gracefully in front of my Uncle's house.  The gate I'd ripped off had been rebuilt, but I didn't have to remove it this time.  I merely landed on the other side of it.  I took in the glamorous look of the place and made my mind up: I had to have it.  With nothing to fear, I strolled up to the front door, surprised that no-one appeared in any of the many windows.  The last time I was there, I had already come under machine-gun fire before I'd even got to the front door.  Now, there was dissatisfying silence.

Thinking how I planned to make the house my own, I was careful forcing my entry, "gently" breaking the door down by just tapping lightly on it with a couple of finger tips.  The heavy wooden panel fell inwards with a tremendous crash that echoed inside the vast entrance hall.  I couldn't believe it.  The place looked deserted.  Most of the mess I had made on my previous visit had been cleared away, certainly the blood and fallen masonry was gone, although quite a few bullet-holes remained in the walls.  But where were the people?  Where was Tony?

I wandered around the house a little, floating upstairs to check out the bedrooms.  I decided that the biggest one would be mine, but I knew that first I would have to "negotiate" ownership with my Uncle.  Downstairs, I looked for him in his study without finding any trace of life.  The hole I'd installed in the floor was still there, so I dropped down through it into the basement.  There were no lights on anywhere in the house, and the once-hidden cellar was absolutely pitch-black.  Not that I had any trouble seeing thanks to my superhuman eyes.

It took me less than a second to scan every square inch of the huge room.   Whoever had mopped up in the main part of the house obviously didn't have time to do their thing down there.   The place was a tip.  Blood stains, broken glass, used bullets and smashed up tables everywhere.  Only the actual bodies (there were quite a few as I remember) had been removed.  Nothing else had been disturbed and no-one was in there at that moment.  In particular, as far as I was concerned, Tony was not in there.

Frustrated, I was about to start trashing what was left of the basement - not a difficult thing to do when you're as strong and invulnerable as I am.  Just as I was going to start venting my disappointment, my ultra-sensitive hearing picked up the unmistakable sound of a car engine outside.  Thinking it was Tony returning home, I hurried to greet him, flying noiselessly up through the busted ceiling and out into the main hall.  But there was no sign of my Uncle.  Instead, I saw a total stranger staring at the knocked-over front door.  He was a short man, smartly dressed.  Barely into his middle-ages, he was carrying an expensive-looking briefcase in his hand.

Behind him, a black estate car was parked in front of the house, engine running.  I recognized the fellow behind the wheel straight away. It was Silvio, one of Tony's regular drivers.  If the other guy had been driven to my Uncle's house by my Uncle's chauffeur then chances were that he also was working for Tony.  I cleared my throat to get his attention.  He looked towards me.  As his gaze flicked from the displaced door to my face, his expression changed from confusion to surprise.  Then when his stare moved slowly from my face down to my chest, the surprise gave way to lust.  Typical man!   He was obviously too absorbed by the sight of my partially-visible cleavage to speak, so I took it upon myself to open the conversation.

"Who are you?" I asked.  It was a simple enough question, but it seemed to confuse the guy.  His lips moved, but no sound came out.  I decided to try again.  "Hey, stupid.  I asked you your name!"

That did the trick.  "Marco." he said.  Squeezing a word out also brought him out of his trance.  He suddenly became aware of the situation, his right hand moving clumsily into the pocket of his jacket.  I knew what was coming.  Painfully slowly, he pulled out a little gun.  I resisted the urge to laugh.  His hand was shaking as he pointed the weapon at me, but even without that clue I could tell that he wasn't one of my Uncle's usual trained monkeys.  He definitely was not used to handling a weapon.  He waved it amateurishly at me as he tried to sound authoritative.  "Put your hands in the air."

When I failed to react he began to get panicky.  "Do you know whose house this is?" he asked.

"Yes." I said, disinterestedly.  "Now do you know who I am, little man?"

He obviously didn't.  Struggling to maintain the act of sounding confident he tried to answer my question.  "You are trespassing on private property.  Put your hands in the air and come out of the house immediately."  Then he added (rather redundantly) as an after-thought "Or else I'll shoot."

I fought the temptation to invite him to "Make my day" and instead tried a new approach to discovering his identity.  "You're the trespasser." I said. "This is Tony Alto's house.  You've got no right being here."

My plan worked a treat.  "I'm Mr. Alto's lawyer." he answered, genuinely angered. "I have every right to be here.  Now, leave the house immediately!"

Smiling, I put my hands defiantly on my shapely hips and thrust my chest out, making his eyes bulge slightly.  "Well, now," I begun.  "Seeing as you are a lawyer, perhaps you could be so kind as to arrange for the transfer of this property from Mr. Alto to me?"

My attitude clearly disturbed him.  He began waiving his gun about furiously and he shouted "Get out!  Get out now!"  He threw a glance over his shoulder towards the car outside, perhaps appealing to Silvio for some back-up or perhaps checking his escape route.  Either way, it gave me a great idea.  Uncle Tony might not have been there, but chances were that one of these two would know where he was and I didn't think I would have too much difficulty getting them to share the information with me. The thought of the impending family reunion made me smile with joy. 

Marco the diminutive lawyer was still gesticulating furiously with his pistol and screaming at me to leave the house.  I started to walk towards him, keeping my hands on my hips and the smile on my face.  Even though I was taking my time in order to fully enjoy the situation, the lawyer seemed reluctant to shoot.  Instead he just began to shout more and more desperately.  I came to a stop about a meter in front of him.  At that distance, the difference in our heights was more obvious, and he had to tilt his head back a little to look at my face.  It gave me quite a thrill to have a man looking up at me, so I decided to increase the effect a little by using my flight powers to rise about quarter of a meter off the ground.

Seeing me levitating stunned Marco into silence.  His jaw dropped and I could see that he was really straining now to maintain eye-contact with me.  He mumbled something like "H.. how.. how did..." but I ignored it.  His pistol arm was now by his side, the poor man being far too shocked to point it at me anymore.  I thought it would be a good moment to up his inner turmoil, so I began to "walk" towards him once more, only of course now I was floating well off the floor.  It was fun, pretending to walk on air - for me anyway.  My new friend didn't appear to enjoy the spectacle much.

His face was a picture of fear now.  As I took another "step" in his direction, he started to back away.  He kept on uttering incomprehensible bits of words as he moved backwards, like "Who... how... what... no... please..."  It was all a bit pathetic really, but I didn't say anything.  Well, I didn't want to be rude.  I just kept advancing on him as he back-pedaled, looking increasingly terrified.  His neck bent more and more as he struggled to keep some sort of eye-contact with me while I loomed above him, carefully measuring my "stride" so that I was moving towards him faster than he was going away from me.  Seeing the gap between us closing, he cried out in panic "Go away!"  Naturally, I didn't.  I just kept "walking".

I got within twenty centimeters of him, and the strain on his neck appeared to become more than he could bear.  His chin began to drop and he was no longer looking into my face.  Now his pupils were pointed directly at the exposed upper portion of my chest.  I heard his already racing heartbeat accelerate even more as the sight of my generous feminine curves had its usual effect.  From his vantage point, my breasts must've almost filled his vision.  Delighting in the effect I was having on him, I kept on closing the distance from his face to my body until I could feel his rasping, hot breath against my flawless skin.

Still, he tried to back away and still I advanced on him until we were touching.  The point of contact was the end of his chin with the shelf of my bosom, just above the low neck-line of my magic vest.  The touch of my womanly flesh quickened his heartbeat until it reached a speed which couldn't have been healthy for him, but I confess I wasn't particularly concerned.  I just continued moving forwards.  He tried to get away, but I was faster and soon, I was pressing my breasts against his face.  His hands came up to my waist.  I think he may have been trying to push me away - he bared his teeth and began straining, but to be honest, I only felt the lightest of touches on my abdomen.

I kept strolling forward.  He tried to resist me by no longer stepping backwards, attempting instead to anchor the soles of his shoes on the floor.  Of course, it was a waste of his time and energy.  His feet slipped on the ground as I pushed him, not slowing down at all as I forced him backwards with my breasts against his face.  His feet began working furiously as he tried first to hold his position, then to walk forwards and finally to kick me in the shins.  I hardly felt his hardest kicks and I certainly didn't notice any resistance to my strides.  It was all the same to me whatever he did and I continued propel him backwards with nothing but my thrust-out chest, his shoes dragging along the ground. 

Soon enough, the inevitable happened.  His back hit the wall.  Of course, I saw it coming, but he didn't and the shock made him panic.  He moved to make a dart to the side, but by then it was far too late for him.  In truth, it had been to late for the guy the first second I saw him.  With my feet still well above the floor, I leant in, effortlessly trapping his head between the wall and my heavy bosom.  Evidently, I was putting a bit too much pressure on the lawyer's head, because he screamed and moved to punch me in the stomach.  The first I knew of it was when I heard the sound of the bones in his fist crunching against my perfect flat belly.  Then, as I could have predicted, he screamed again.  I merely held myself dead still as his fought for all he was worth to free his head.

Paying no attention to his useless struggling, I began my questioning.  I started him off with an easy one. "Where's Tony, Marco?"  Instead of the reply I wanted, there was nothing but a garbled moan.  My chest was completely muffling whatever sounds he was trying to make.  I moved a tiny bit away from him - not nearly enough to free his head, but enough to let him speak a little more clearly.

"I... I don't know where he is!" he blurted as soon as he could.

"You're lying." I chided him.  I didn't know if he was, but I didn't want to take any chances.  I leant back into him, much more intimately than before.  Initially he let out a scream as my big round mounds pressed against his features, but the noise ended abruptly as I smothered him with my femininity.  His arms and legs thrashed about wildly as he tried to move me away, but, unsurprisingly, his frantic efforts had absolutely no result.  I let him fight in vain for about half a minute before giving him enough space to breathe and talk once more.

His face was a picture!  Two huge, purple bruises were already forming, one on either side, stretching from his cheekbones down to his chin.  There were tears forming in his eyes too.  He was panting noisily, moaning with every labored breath and it took him a few moments to gather enough wind to speak.  It wasn't worth the wait.

"I swear!" he spluttered between gasps, "I don't know where he is!  Please!  Let me go!"

"Wrong answer, Marco." I said, bending towards him yet again.

"No-" he started to yell as I pressed my breasts into his head, squeezing it against the wall, both cutting off his shout and stifling him with just my lovely chest.   His efforts to free himself were less energetic than the previous time, I suppose because he was weakening.  Yet all I was doing was gently resting my bosom on his face!  No wonder I felt so powerful at the time.  I mean, effortlessly overpowering a man is thrilling enough; to do it using nothing more than my sexy bust made me feel like a goddess.

I suppose that's why I got a bit carried away.  I should've let the lawyer come up for some air, perhaps given him another opportunity to tell me what I wanted to know.  But I was getting off on the idea of physically dominating him with my breasts.  I wanted him to know that I was wounding him - suffocating him even - using only a tiny, tiny portion of my strength.  I wanted to show him that I could so easily increase the pressure, that my supposedly soft mounds were infinitely tougher than any part of him.  So I leant in closer to him, thinking to hurt him just a little bit more with my generous chest.

Immediately, two things happened that I hadn't expected.  Firstly, there was a loud cracking sound.  Secondly, the lawyer went limp, his formerly frantic arms and legs suddenly motionless.  I'd just put a tiny bit too much into it and my breasts had shattered his skull.  I moved back, annoyed at my lack of self-control.  In the split second before he slumped to the floor, I saw that blood was pouring from Marco's mouth.  His face was deep purple, his eyes dull and lifeless.  I had accidentally killed him with my chest!  Worse, I'd finished him off before he could tell me where my Uncle was.

Dropping my feet down to the floor, I bent down and scooped up the dead lawyer by grabbing a handful of the collar of his shirt.  The trickle of blood from his lips ran over my fingers but, as usual, not a trace lingered on my perfect skin as I hoisted him up.  He felt as light as a sheet of paper to me.  I walked with him towards the opening that had been the front door.  I must have made quite a sight for Silvio, the man sitting at the wheel of the car out front, because as soon as he clapped his disbelieving eyes on me he gunned the engine, slammed the car into gear and sped out of the driveway.

Not wanting to lose a second potential source of information, I tossed Marco's body into some bushes about twenty meters away and leisurely took to the air in pursuit, forgetting that I was leaving the house with no front door.  My first thought was to grab the car immediately, pull the driver out and take it from there.  But as I flew about two hundred meters directly overhead I realized that he had no idea that I was following him.  He may have been checking behind himself, but he never would have thought to look up.  And if he didn't think that he was being tailed, then he would be far more likely to go straight to Tony to report the death of the lawyer.  Rather than interrogating Silvio, I could let him lead me right where I wanted to go.

I confess it was a little boring trailing the pathetically slow car as it crawled at its top speed along the auto route for about twenty kilometers.  I tried to make it more interesting by flying feet-first on my back, but I was relieved when Silvio finally took a side turning.  From my vantage point, I could see straight away where the road lead: a tiny civilian airfield.  It would be just like my Uncle to hide out somewhere like that - quiet and out of the way but with easy transport links.  I put on a burst of speed, shooting past the speeding car and landed on the rusty corrugated roof of some old hangar to wait for Silvio.

After a while, the car pulled up close to where I was hiding.  Expecting Tony to emerge from one of the many buildings dotted about, I was surprised to see Silvio get out of the car and sprint towards another of the hangars.  I waited until about a minute later when I heard the sound of an engine firing up.  It was only then that I remembered that my Uncle employed Silvio not just as a car driver, but also as a pilot.  I should've known when I saw him driving into the airfield.  He hadn't gone there to meet Tony, he'd gone to pick up a plane.

Sure enough, the engine sounds got louder and a small, private plane - one of those single-propeller things - emerged from the hangar.  My keen eyes soon spotted Silvio at the controls as the little craft taxied towards the single runway.  There were only two seats inside, one for the pilot, the other unused.  No sign of Tony.  For all my superpowers, I still hadn't managed to track down a fat, old man.  But at least I had some kind of a lead.   A lead that, at that moment, was accelerating down the runway.   A couple of days ago I would have had to sprint after it to stop it getting off the ground.  But that was then.  Today, I just let the plane take off.   I mean, what's a single, tiny plane when I'd already downed a whole squadron of fighter jets?

Silvio gained altitude and then banked, turning the craft to head in a southerly direction.  Lazily, I too took to the air, closing the distance to the plane in less than a minute without any conscious effort on my part.  The little propeller could only drive the thing at a fraction of the speed of a jet, and it was all I could do not to streak straight past it.  I managed to hold off, following at a distance of about half a kilometer, watching the fields and villages below for a while, waiting to see where we were going.

Eventually, we flew over the coast and out over the ocean.  Traveling at that snail's pace, with no landscape below to look at and nothing to do but follow a plane that didn't do anything entertaining (such as firing rockets at me), I quickly grew bored.   It was no fun at all.  Sure, I wanted to see if Silvio would lead me to my Uncle, but I was rapidly running out of patience with him and his flimsy machine.  After about half an hour, I couldn't take it anymore.  I mean, there's no point being super if you can't show off a little every now and then.  So I decided to have a little sport with the guy.

An easy burst of speed brought me level with the craft in seconds.  I flew alongside for a while, waiting for Silvio to spot me and start panicking, but he kept his eyes stubbornly straight ahead.  I came a little closer, being careful not to disturb the delicate plane with my shockwave, but still he refused to turn and see me.  In the end I had to maneuver myself around one of the wings so that I was right by the side widow.  Then, putting on my friendliest smile, I reached over and knocked very gently on the glass.  That did it.  He turned immediately, his eyes growing huge and his mouth hanging open in pure shock.  Laughing, I gave him a little wave before flying away.

I waited about ten seconds and then flew around to the other side of the little plane.  The stunned pilot was still staring out of the window I had appeared at previously, so I rapped on the other side to get his attention.  He whirled his head around, his face going white.  This time I winked at him before shooting off, out of his sight.  Knowing that I had him going now, I waited almost a minute before making my next move.  For maximum effect, I approached the craft from above, ensuring that I wouldn't be spotted.  I landed as lightly as I could and managed to avoid making any noise as I came to rest on my belly on top of the plane.

Then I scooted up, leaning forward over the front windshield, letting my hair hang down over the glass.  If I'd shocked him with my first two moves, this time I almost gave him a heart-attack.  From his point of view, my grinning, upside-down face must have suddenly appeared right in front of him.  He pushed his controls forward, sending the plane into a dive, perhaps trying to shake me off.  I used my flight powers to remain in position, being careful not to affect his mastery of the craft.  Soon enough, he pulled out of the dive, but only to attempt a roll.  Again, careful tensing of key muscles kept me right where I was, despite the best attempts of both Silvio and the laws of physics to dislodge me.

Having proved to him that he could not move me against my will, I drifted away from him once more, showing off for a while by flying a series of ever-faster loops around him.  I had to stop before I created more turbulence than the delicate plane could withstand, but I continued the game by shooting off and stopping about twenty meters in front of him.   Turning my body mid-air so that I was "standing" upright, directly facing him, I matched his speed as I continued to move backwards through the air, keeping the gap between his whirling propeller and my exposed navel constant.  To make certain that he understood how easy it all was for me, I pretended to yawn and placed my hands on my hips.

Clearly, Silvio was not prepared to accept the situation.  He began to make the plane do a series of jerky, side-to-side and up-and-down movements, trying to lose me.  But the thing was so slow and its clumsy maneuvers were so easy to read that I was able to stay in exactly the same pose at exactly the same distance in front of him throughout without really having to think about it.  The more he fought to shake me off, the quicker I was able to anticipate.  My palms never left their resting place on my hips as I moved through the air with a million times more control and grace than the tiny, but no doubt expensive, airplane.

I could see the exasperated pilot's growing desperation as the shock of it all subsided, only to be replaced by fear.  I'm sure he recognized me from when I'd come out of Tony's house carrying the dead lawyer.  Perhaps he'd also heard accounts of what had happened in my Uncle's basement, put two and two together and realized that I was the mysterious super woman responsible for all that carnage.  Either way, he wanted to get away from me and I wasn't letting him.  It was all to easy for me, and I could feel myself growing bored once again.  Time to take things to the next level.

Floating slightly to one side, but staying close enough for him to be able to see me clearly, I smiled and winked at Silvio.  Then, as sexily as I could, I pouted and blew him the tiniest of little kisses.  I made sure I didn't put much into the puff, as I could see that the little plane would instantly fall apart if I did.  Nevertheless, the little jet of air I produced was enough to send the craft hurtling violently out of control.   I followed alongside, laughing as I watched the poor guy struggling for all he was worth to regain control.  It took him nearly a minute to do it, and by the time he'd finally leveled the plane, he was drenched in sweat.

All that panicking, all that work to keep the thing in the sky, just because I'd so gently exhaled in its direction!  Needless to say, that made me feel pretty good about myself.  I steered myself into his path once more, his face a delightful picture of horror as he caught a glimpse of me once again, right on cue to see me pursing my lips for a second time.  I blew towards the wing this time, as softly as before.  My lungs produced a stream of air easily powerful enough to make the whole plane spin rapidly, much to my amusement.  I was still chuckling two minutes later (and about a thousand meters lower) when Silvio eventually managed to stop the rotation and started regaining altitude.

Of course, I made sure that he knew I was right there with him, only a few meters away in fact.  Somehow, I could tell he wasn't having as much fun as I was.  For starters, he no longer looked white.  Now he was a kind of shade of pale green.  Then, there was the fact that he was visibly trembling.  All in all, he was in a pretty bad way.  If I shook him about too much more, he wouldn't be able to tell me anything about my Uncle's whereabouts.  So I decided to leave him be for a while and set about looking for something else I could do in the meantime.

I don't know exactly why, but I found my gaze being drawn towards the single whirling propeller at the front of the plane.  Having easily out-flown the thing, I was aware that the spinning blade was nothing amazing, but nonetheless it had to be fairly powerful to keep Silvio and the rest of the plane in the air.  I drifted towards it.  My super-speed enabled me to study it even though it was turning at hundreds of revolutions a minute.  It looked like quite a sturdy chunk of material and it was spinning fast (perhaps not by my standards, but then, everything falls short if I measure it that way.)

Curious, I reached towards the overgrown revolving bow-tie but at the last moment I had a better idea.  Maybe it was the feeling of utter control over the machine and the man inside of it that was making me feel a little horny, or perhaps it was the memory of what I had done to the lawyer earlier.  Whatever the reason for it, I pulled my hand away before it touched the propeller and used it instead to pull my vest up over my glorious chest, exposing its perfection to the elements and affording Silvio probably the greatest sight of his life.

All thoughts of the pilot vanished from my mind, however, as the cold wind rushed by, caressing my now freed breasts, rapidly arousing my nipples, and making me feel increasingly excited.  Carefully, I positioned myself with my flat stomach right in front of the propeller.  I could feel the blade passing several times a second within millimeters of the underside of my chest.  It was a pleasant enough sensation, but by then I wanted more.  Much more.  So, very slowly, I began to lean forwards, letting my big, heavy breasts hang lower until finally, they came within the circumference of the spinning panel.

Immediately, I was in heaven.  The ends of the propeller whacking repeatedly into the underneath of each of my mounds sent shockwaves of delight running across my chest.  I closed my eyes to savor the wonderful caresses, letting the powerful motor drive the thick molded slab against my naked breasts hundreds of times a minute.  I didn't care if Silvio was watching; the feeling was far too lovely to allow any thoughts to disturb it.  I lost myself in a dream in which some ancient god of love was ministering to my tingling chest with divine expertise.

But my dream quickly seemed to fade and end and the delicious sensation just petered out to nothing.  Disappointed, I opened my eyes and looked down through the deep valley of my cleavage.  Instantly, I saw what had happened.  The propeller was now only about two-thirds of its original length and the circle it described had shrunk correspondingly.  Clearly, although I, and my breasts in particular, were hungry for more, the tough specialist material of the blade just wasn't up to the task.  The repeated contact with my feminine flesh had completely worn away the ends of the panel.  Of course, there wasn't the slightest hint of a mark where I'd been struck so many thousands of times; my chest may have ground down the propeller but the propeller had had no effect on my chest - other than giving me a bit of pleasure.

Seeing as there was still plenty of blade left, I leant further forward so that the wonderful feeling of it striking my mounds returned.  This time, I didn't let the enjoyment fade as my invulnerability took its toll.  Rather, I made sure I extracted every possible gram of pleasure by unhurriedly bending my upper body towards the ever-retreating propeller.  I watched in a kind of erotic trance as the blade inevitably lost the battle with its vastly more powerful attacker: my bust.  Gradually, but inevitably, my beautiful big breasts trimmed the thing down until finally, sadly, there was nothing at all left but the smooth, round hub spinning pointlessly.  And a nice, but rapidly evaporating afterglow in my bosom.

Of course, Silvio's silly little airplane had now become a glider, and a not particularly good one at that. Recovering my composure, I pulled my vest back down over my still just about tingling breasts and looked up to see how my friendly pilot was doing.  Evidently, he had enjoyed the show despite his understandable terror.  I could tell by the way he was crossing and uncrossing his legs and rubbing his groin through his trousers with his left palm.  Surely he had more pressing business to deal with, seeing as he had effectively lost his only engine.  But perhaps I am underestimating my charms...

Anyway, I watched him squirming with his erection for a while until he caught my eye and stopped, suddenly embarrassed.  I almost felt sorry for him.  Almost.  At that instant, he reminded me of a young man who, having seen the girl of his dreams, is too shy to approach her.   I decided that I would have to make the first move.  In one fluent motion, I swooped towards the top of the plane, extending my arm and thrusting my fingers out to pierce the roof directly above his head.  I used to think aircraft were tough machines but I couldn't believe how easily my slender hand penetrated the thin metal casing.  When I took a hold of the panel and pulled, I found I could peel the top off the plane as effortlessly as ripping open a paper bag.

Silvio looked up at me through the gaping hole above him, the lustful look gone from his eyes now.  Fear was well and truly the dominant emotion once again.  I smiled down at him, not so much to put him at ease, but more to show him how easy it all was for me.  Reaching down, I tore away his harness, grabbed a hold of the back of his shirt and pulled him effortlessly clear of his doomed plane.  For a few moments I held him dead still, so that he could watch the pilotless wreck dive towards the ocean.  I don't know if his "normal" eyes were able to spot the splash so far beneath us but I certainly saw it.  Even if he didn't actually witness it, he must've imagined it anyway.

That was when I remembered my original intention to discreetly follow the plane until it lead me to Tony.  I'd become so involved in my little games that I had completely forgotten the plan.  Without his transport, Silvio wasn't about to lead me anywhere except straight down to the sea bed.  Silently cursing myself I realized that I would have to make the unexpectedly-retired pilot talk or else lose a promising lead in my search.   I looked down at the big guy, dangling so helplessly at the end of my long, slender arm.  Aware of the delicate nature of his situation, he wasn't struggling.  He was pleading.  Begging me not to drop him, to take him down, to let him live.

I didn't take him down, but stayed, hovering motionless several thousand meters up.  But I didn't drop him either.  Instead I bent my arm to bring his face up right in front of mine.  Then, putting on a voice that I hope sounded mockingly sweet, I spoke, letting my warm breath buffet his freezing face.

"Silvio, darling, I want to ask you something, but I want you to think very carefully before you answer.  Because, if you don't, I'll be forced to do this." As I finished, I just let him go.  He screamed as he started to plummet earthwards, arms and legs flying about helplessly.  I let him fall for quite a few seconds before diving down, towards him.  When we drew level, I slowed, matching the speed of his descent before grabbing hold of him under one arm and bringing us both to a careful stop.   He was in a state of panic, puffing furiously, muttering some prayer to himself.

"Get a grip on yourself." I commanded him but he continued to hyperventilate.  I shook him very gently, making his whole body fly about like a child's doll, but still he couldn't get his breathing under control.

 "Silvio!" I barked, angrily, shaking him again, but again to no avail.  I tried another tactic, pulling him against me, remembering at the last moment to be gentle so as not to kill him.  The force of my careful tug was enough to make his head slam against my left breast, an impact I barely registered but which made him cry out and left him with a bloodied cheek.  It also had the effect of snapping him out of his fit, but just to be sure anyway, I gave him another little yank, smashing his face full on into my waiting mound.  He screamed as he bounced off.  I giggled when I saw him; as a result of what I considered a very light tap against my most yielding flesh, he virtually had no nose, just a flattened, bloody pulp in the middle of his face.  At least he was a bit calmer now.  Certainly more in the mood to help me with my enquiry.

I brought his messed-up face close.  "Are you ready to answer my question now?"

"Please don't drop me!" he blurted, tearfully.  I was furious.

"I thought I told you what would happen if you didn't answer me properly." I said, my voice angry.

"Please!  Pl-aaaaaaah!" I had to let go when he started the second "Please".  I was starting to think that the guy was never going to co-operate.   Of course, I wasn't going to let him die without getting what I wanted from him, but I left it long enough for him to think that I would.  Then, when he was barely a hundred meters from oblivion, I set off downwards at nearly top speed, shooting past him and turning around to face him as he descended towards me.   Tilting my head upwards, I let out a gentle exhalation - more of a sigh than a blow - and let my puff slow his fall, holding him momentarily mid-air, supported by nothing more than a cushion of my tepid breath.

I stopped the casual flow of air through my lips and let him fall into my arms, absorbing the worst of the impact.  His face was now utterly covered in blood from the dramatic wound I had inflicted on what had previously been his nose and I could tell by the way he squinted up at me that his vision was starting to blur.  He was openly weeping too.  I put my finger very gently across his lips and said "Shhh." as if tending a sick child.  Amazingly, he stopped sobbing.  At last, I'd gotten through to him.  The classic nasty-then-nice tactic had worked a treat.

Keeping my tone as soft as I could I bent my head so that my lips were closer to his ear.  "Silvio," I began, "do you want to live?"  I don't know if it was the gentle voice I was now using as I cradled him in my arms, if his two falls had had the desired effect, or if the contrast between the two had confused him but for whatever reason, he began to play along with me.

"Yes." he said, weakly.

"Good boy." I replied, smiling.  "I want to know where I can find Tony Alto.  Do you know where Tony is, Silvio?"

"Yes."

Again, his voice sounded pathetic.  He was a broken man.  I leant in and kissed him as tenderly as I could on the lips, tasting the blood that covered his face.  Then, with my mouth still almost touching his, I breathed "Can you tell me, Silvio?"  I kissed him again.  "Can you?" I pressed my lips gently against his for a third time.  When I lifted my face ever so slightly away from his, I could see in his eyes that he was completely mine.  "Tell me, Silvio.  Tell me where Tony is."

"He.. he's with Filippo Calucci.  They.. they're on Calucci's yacht."  The name rang a bell straight away - one of my Uncle's main "business" partners.  I had no reason to doubt my captive's word.

"Well done," I congratulated him.  "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it."  I gave him the softest, most lingering kiss yet.  When it was over, I kept my lips almost touching his as I asked "Is that where you were flying to just now, Silvio?"

"Yes."

"So it's not far from here?"

"No."

Another kiss.  I let the very tip of my tongue touch his mouth for an instant. He responded with a little shudder. "How far is it, Silvio?"

"Er.. A... About forty kilometers."

"In which direction?"

"Um.. south.  South."

"Thank you, Silvio.  You've been so kind." I whispered as I kissed him once again. "Now, run along."  So saying, I pulled my arms away from under him and let gravity take over.  He didn't scream on the way down, perhaps he was too confused to understand what was happening to him.  I held my position in the sky just long enough to watch him splash into the sea below and sink beneath the waves and then turned, with renewed purpose, to the south.

I was keen to find out if Silvio had been telling the truth or if I'd been wasting my time, but I couldn't fly too quickly as I had to scan the ocean beneath me as I traveled.  For some reason, there were dozens of ships about.  It was easy to ignore the tankers, ferries and fishing boats but there were plenty of yachts I had to scrutinize too.  Each time I saw what I thought might be Calucci's vessel I used my superhuman vision to zoom in to try and see the faces of the people on board.

I was beginning to think that I might have to personally inspect every likely yacht in the area in case Tony was out of sight in one of the cabins when something on the deck of one of the more promising vessels caught my eye.  Two men, dressed entirely in black were standing, looking out to sea.  But what really drew my attention was the fact that each of them was wearing some kind of automatic weapon across his shoulder.  Immediately, I swooped down towards them thinking that if my target wasn't on board, then at least the guns presented an opportunity for some light relief.

I descended behind the pair, who obviously hadn't been expecting an attack from the air.  Or at least they were expecting a silent attack from the air.  Suffice to say, they never saw me.  A gentle tap with one fingertip on the top of each man's head put them to sleep and they slumped at my feet as I touched down on the deck.  Bending low, I sliced the thick straps off each of the two weapons with a fingernail and pulled the guns from underneath their unconscious owners, moving the two big bodies with the greatest of ease.

I was just about to treat myself to a little burst of fire from the weapons when I changed my mind and decided to search the vessel first.  Business before pleasure, and all that.  Obviously, no-one else was up top so I started looking for the way in.  Before I could even find it, my superhuman hearing detected the sound of a familiar voice.  I put the guns down and stopped to listen.  It was Filippo Calucci.  I almost jumped for joy.   He was talking to someone about the merits and demerits of dealing with the police.  Excitedly, I waited for the mystery other person to reply.  And then I heard the unmistakable voice of Tony Alto, my Uncle.

From the sounds alone, I could pin-point exactly where they were - on the other side of the wall I was standing next to.  Unfortunately for Filippo as it turned out, there was neither a door nor a window that I could immediately locate in that wall.  If there had been, Calucci's life may well have been oh, at least a couple of minutes longer.  As it was, when I planted my hands on my hips, stuck out my wonderful chest and just marched right through the fiberglass panel, quite a few of the chunks of wall my body violently displaced ripped deep into the man's flesh.  He was dead even before I saw him.  And it wasn't a pretty sight either, with bits of jagged, torn material sticking out of his face, torso and legs and blood everywhere.

But, there were a number of advantages to my unorthodox entry.  First and foremost, it was a lot of fun, letting first my breasts then my knees then the rest of my body push and bend the toughened material beyond its tolerance so that it cracked then dissolved, yielding so utterly to the vastly superior force that is Milena.  The second advantage was that I caught the two men - Filippo more than Tony I suspect - completely by surprise.  And the final bonus is that I now own a luxury ocean-going yacht.  Well, Calucci wasn't really in a position to turn down my offer (we settled on a price of exactly zilch...)

Anyway, there I was, hands on hips, bits of busted wall all around me, Filippo's corpse at my bare feet, face to face at last with my dear Uncle.  Even an old hand like Tony had to be impressed with the sight.  But I have to say, he did well, almost remaining completely calm.

"Hi, Tony." I said, sounding casual.

"Milena?  Is that you?" he asked, genuinely confused.  "What's happened to you?  I can hardly recognize you!"   I could detect a little nervousness in his voice, but under the circumstances it wasn't much.

"Never mind me," I said, still pretending this was an everyday conversation, "Where have you been?  I've been looking everywhere for you.  Oh, and by the way, your lawyer's dead.  And that pilot guy - what was his name - oh yeah, Silvio.  He's partying with the fishes."

"What's going on?  What do you want from me?"  He was a little more nervous now.  "Is it money?  I have lots.  Look -" he thrust his hand into his inside jacket pocket.   I saw him pulling out his large, black leather wallet.  What happened next was rather predictable.  I should've seen it coming, but I'm new at this game.  Tony pulled one of the oldest tricks in the book.  When he took out his wallet, he'd also grabbed his gun, keeping it hidden underneath the money-holder.  I only realized what he had done after he'd squeezed off a shot.  Of course, once I saw the flash of light at the end of the barrel, I had plenty of time to dodge the bullet, but I didn't bother, just letting it crumple up against my silky belly and ping away to the side.

Tony looked stunned, but not too stunned to try again a couple more times, holding his weapon out in the open now and aiming for my head.  He wasn't a bad shot - one slug hit my cheek just beneath my right eye, the other my forehead.  They felt like two soft little kisses to me.  Both bullets bounced off me without leaving a mark.

"What the fuck is going on?" my Uncle demanded, rapidly losing his cool.

I laughed.  "You'll get used to it."   I said, turning around for a moment to retrieve the two machine guns from the other side of the busted cabin wall.  When I turned back to Tony, his eyes fell on the weapons and he backed up towards the far side of the little room, suddenly terrified. "Relax," I reassured him.  "you're family.  And, unlike some people I can think of, I don't kill family.  Unless I really have to."  My words had only a limited calming effect.

I held the two guns out to him, the butts towards him.  "Here," I offered, "take them.  Try them out if you like."  I was about to add that I particularly liked to be shot in the chest, when I remembered who I was with.  It wasn't something I wanted to share with my Uncle.  Tony took the weapons and did actually fire one of them, spraying my lower legs and feet with dozens of lovely, hot bits of lead.  I smiled at him to show just how unbothered I was by being shot.  His eyes grew huge in amazement and he obviously got the message because he put the guns down on an empty chair beside him.

"Pass me one of them." I requested.  The nervous look returned to his face.  "Oh, come on, Uncle!" I said.  "If I was going to kill you, you'd have died along with Filippo."  (He wasn't to know that Calucci's death was an accident.)  Anxiously, he picked up one of the weapons and held it out to me, business end first and at arm's length.  Calmly I took it from him.  I used my thumb to bend the end of the barrel at a right angle. the steel squealing as I casually exerted thousands of kilos of force.  Then I crushed the trigger mechanism in my fist until molten metal ran over my fingers and dripped, sizzling, on to the floor.  It made for an impressive display, even if it only required a tiny percentage of my superhuman strength.  Then I threw what was left of the weapon to land at his feet.

Tony glanced at the misshapen lump of steel and then back up at me.  "How.." he began... "how did you get to be so... so strong?  And.. bullet-proof?" Then after a little pause, he said "It was you!   In my basement!  You killed all those guys..."

I hadn't tracked Tony down so that he could ask me a load of questions.  "You do the talking." I told him.  "I want to know why you put a hit on me."

"I.. I.. had to... I... You..."

While he stammered, I listened to his heart beating faster and faster.  My wonderful super-powered eyes even let me see the pores on his forehead as they opened.  Countless tiny beads of sweat began to appear.  Calmly, I bent down and scooped up one of the larger fragments of wall that were scattered on the floor.  Holding it up were I was sure my Uncle could see it, I brought the chunk up to my mouth and took a big bite out of it, as though it were an oversized potato chip.  Then, I noisily crunched the tough fiberglass between my teeth a few times before making a show of swallowing.  I was pleased to see the little demonstration had made Tony look even more fearful.

"The truth, Tony.  No bullshit."

"You.. You'll...kill...me..."

"If you don't tell me the truth, I will." I threatened, casually taking another mouthful of wall.

"OK.  OK.   The cops were putting a hell of a lot of pressure on me.  And they were digging around everywhere, y'know, looking for anyone who could give then a bit of dirt on me.  I figured it was only a matter of time before they started grilling you and.. well, you could tell them just about everything.  Y'know - enough for them to get me for good..."

Tony's story didn't surprise me much.  I certainly believed it then and I still do. It's exactly the kind of thing he would do.   Sacrificing me, not so much to actually save his own skin, but more just to make it a little more secure.  Sure, I'm disappointed that my own Uncle didn't trust me enough not to shop him to the police, but like I said, I would expect that of him.  Tony's never trusted anybody but himself.  At least now I knew what it was all about.

"Shame on you, Uncle, for not trusting me." I said.

"I'm sorry." he answered, sounding humbler than I'd ever heard him in my life.  But it didn't change the way I felt: of course he regrets trying to have me killed now that I've got superpowers.  After a pause he spoke. "So... what happens now?  You going to kill me, Milena?"

I wasn't unhappy to see him so afraid.  After all, he deserved it.  I decided to keep him in suspense for a while.  I took a couple of strides over to Calucci's corpse and flicked it with my bare toes, making the body fly across the little room.  "Seeing as Filippo here won't be sailing for a while, he's given me this boat." I announced.  Tony swallowed hard, but said nothing.  "Clean it up, Uncle." I instructed him.

"What?"  he asked.  It had been quite a few decades since anyone had given him an order.  I put my hands on my hips and tapped my foot impatiently on the decking, making the whole floor shudder.  "There's a mess on my ship.  Get rid of it.  Or you can join your pal down there."  That did it.  He moved immediately, picking up the corpse and staggering with it to throw it overboard.  Of course, I could have picked up the body with less effort using one finger than my Uncle needed using both his arms, but that wouldn't have been so enjoyable as watching the old man huffing and puffing.  When he was done, I got him to pick up all the fragments from the floor and dump them in the sea too.

He was completely out of breath by the time he finished.  Walking out on deck, I found the emergency life raft.  It was secured with two strong nylon ropes which I snapped with a couple of gentle tugs from my little finger.  Then, with one hand I tossed the raft over the side.  I went back and found Tony.  Reaching out, I got the fingers of my left hand most of the way around his right arm, just below the shoulder.  Picking him off the ground as he squirmed, trying not to show the pain he was in, I carried him to the side of the ship.  I gave his arm the gentlest of squeezes - just enough to make all his bones crunch - and waited patiently for him to stop screaming.

There were tears in his eyes as I continued to hold him off the ground.  "Sorry about that.  I forgot how fragile you are."  I said, not particularly sympathetically, before adding, as an afterthought,  "By the way, you're giving me your house.  Think of it as compensation for all the trouble you've caused."

When he didn't reply, or even properly acknowledge what I'd said, I gave his damaged upper arm another tiny embrace with my fingers.  His yells told me I had gotten through to him.  As soon as he could speak, he blurted, tears streaming down his cheeks: "OK OK.  The house is yours.  I just need to get my things...."

"They're my things now Tony."

"Milena, you can't I -"  I couldn't believe he was still arguing with me.  I brought my free hand up to his good shoulder and clasped it delicately between my thumb and two fingers.  Before I could even get to pulverize his bones, he decided to have a change of attitude.

"Please!  Don't!  Take what you want.  Anything.  It's yours.  All yours.  Please don't hurt me anymore... Please.  I'll give you everything..."  He was really crying now, like a child.

"Thanks, Uncle." I smiled.  "That's really nice of you."  I was still holding him by his busted arm and, as I spoke I hoisted him over the railings so that I was dangling him over the side of the ship.  The life raft I prepared earlier floated about ten meters beneath his hanging feet.  He glanced down at the raft and then back at me, tears still rolling down his reddened face.  "There's one more thing, Tony" I said.

"Name it, it's yours." he said between sobs.

"You're going on holiday for a couple of years.   I don't care where, just somewhere a long way away.  Understand?"  He nodded that he did.  I smiled.  "Great."  I said.  "I think that brings this meeting to a close.  Now, get off my boat!"  I didn't give him a chance to disobey this final command, as I opened my fingers and just let him drop into the life-raft below.  He fell awkwardly, landing on his wounded arm and crying out in pain.  After a few moments, he'd recovered enough to sit up.

"You'd better get rowing before I change my mind!" I called down to him.  He didn't hesitate, grabbing the oar nearest his good arm.  It couldn't have been easy for him with only one useable hand.  He had to keep alternating between the left oar and the right one.   I could see on his face the discomfort the effort was causing him as I watched him moving painstakingly slowly away, out into the open sea.  When I was sure he was far enough gone not to try and come back, I went back inside to search for Calucci's bar.

I found it next to the main bedroom down below decks.  I have to say Filippo had excellent taste.  My new yacht is really beautifully furnished.  The bar itself is a lovely, cream-leather and chrome affair - really elegant.  The drinks cabinet was locked, so I just shoved my hand through the glass panel at the front and pulled out the best whisky.  Rather than waste time unscrewing the bottle, I just crunched the top off between my teeth and chewed the glass and the metal lid up before swallowing them down.  I wasn't surprised to learn that glass is pretty flavorless, but the novelty of eating it was fun.

Now I'd gotten my drink I went back on deck and sat down next to the two unconscious security guys to wait for them to come to.  I kept taking glugs from the whisky, but nothing seemed to happen.  Before I knew it, I'd finished the bottle and I wasn't even a little tipsy.  I suppose I'm immune to alcohol now.  That's booze and sex - two of life's great pleasures that the genie seems to have taken away from me.  I consoled myself by discovering a new party trick - using just my tongue to smooth down the jagged neck of the broken bottle.  Pretty soon, though, I was starting to get bored of that so I went back to the bar, fetched a two-liter bottle of mineral water and emptied it over the heads of the two men to wake them up.

"Morning, gentlemen." I greeted them as they blinked their eyes open and slowly began to sit up.  "There's been a few changes since you went to sleep."  The guards looked for their guns, but found nothing.  They looked at each other and then back at me.  Well, mainly at a certain part of me.  You know, just below the neck...

"Who are you?" one of them asked, rubbing his head where I'd tapped it with my finger to knock him out.  The pain clearly wasn't bad enough to make him stop staring at my cleavage.

"Where's Mr. Calucci and Mr. Alto?" enquired the other as he climbed, unsteadily to his feet.

"They had to leave in a hurry." I said, half-truthfully.  "This is my ship now."

"Listen lady," said the guy not yet standing.  He rose to join his colleague as he went on "you're dealing with a couple of serious players there.  I don't know what's going on, but it ain't going to end well for you."

His pal chimed in. "Yeah, it'd be a real shame if that pretty face or that - " he used the opportunity to really get an eyeful of me - "lovely body got all messed up.  Why don't you just give us our guns back and go shopping or something.  Leave the boys' stuff to us."

I threw my head back and laughed.  The one on my left didn't seem to like that because he said "This ain't no joke.  Don't make me get rough with you."  Naturally, that made me laugh even more.  The idiot who'd made the threat started raising his hand as if he was going to hit me, but I easily moved quicker than him, carefully placing one hand around each guard's throat.  Then I hoisted them both into the air, gently as I didn't want them too badly hurt at that time.  For a while I just stood there, a big guy hanging from each of my hands, four loose feet frantically trying to kick me and four big fists raining blows I could barely feel on my face, chest and stomach.

I let them both severely bruise their toes and knuckles before announcing "Men overboard!" and casually flicking my wrists to send both of them sailing over the rail.  It was a couple of seconds before the twin splash as they fell into the sea.  I took great care to ensure that I didn't toss them too far or too hard, but there were a few anxious moments while I waited for them both to surface.  Eventually, though, two heads bobbed up and they started to swim in the vague direction of the yacht.  My yacht, I should say.

Taking to the air under my own power, I flew towards them.  I was going to swoop down on the pair when I had a wonderful idea.  Remembering how I'd terrified Tony's lawyer by "walking" on air I decided to try the trick again, but with a little twist.  So I turned myself to an upright position and descended slowly until my bare feet were touching the waves.  Then, I started striding towards the security guys.  Of course, I was really flying not striding, but to them it must've looked as if I was walking on water.

My actions definitely impressed the pair, because they immediately stopped swimming and just tread water as they stared in disbelief.  I kept on pacing in their direction.  Soon, I was just a "step" from the nearest one.   As he craned his neck to look up at me, I bent over slowly from the waist, my large breasts hanging right in front of him, giving him a splendid view of my impressive cleavage as I reached for him with one hand.  I heard his pulse-rate increase as his eyes grew wide and smiled.  Men!  So predictable.

Using my flight powers to keep my feet immobile as they "floated" on the sea, I pulled the guy right out of the water.  His weight and the extra resistance of the brine were like nothing to me as he hung, dripping, from my one-handed hold.  Moving him around with the ease that super-strength gives me, I tucked him under my left arm like he was a rolled-up newspaper and "walked" over to his friend, repeating the same trick on him - showing off my breasts as I bent down, yanking him out of the sea and stashing him between my side and my slender right arm.

They didn't fight me this time as I took off, flying us all back onto the deck.  There I dropped them both the final meter to the floor, letting them roll about in their wet clothes until I said "Stand up!"  They both immediately obeyed, each man dripping into a big puddle at his feet.  Of course, I was completely dry, the water just refusing to stick to my lovely skin or my magic underwear.  One of the two clearly petrified men plucked up the courage to speak.

"Who..who are you?"

"I'm your new boss." I replied.  "Do as you're told and I'll let you live."

"What do you want from us?"

"That's the spirit!" I smiled.  "I want you to clean up this boat and then sail it home."

The one who'd let his friend do the talking for a while suddenly looked horrified.  "But... but... we don't know how to sail.."

Still smiling I placed a finger under his chin, tilting his head back until I was sure it was hurting him.  "Then you'd better learn quick," I said, letting go of his chin so that his head snapped forward, "because if this ship isn't in its dock in twenty-four hours' time, I'm going to find you both and when I do - " I reached out with my left hand and gripped the metal railing - "I'm going to do this to you."  A sharp pull on my hand tore a two meter long, ten centimeter diameter section of metal rail free.  Taking hold of it with two hands I slowly started to bend it.  The rail groaned in protest, but it was powerless to resist as I formed it into a rough circle.

I was pleased to see the demonstration working as both men started to sweat as they observed how easy it was for me to perform the "amazing" feat.  No longer needing the ring of railing, I used one hand to toss it over the side like a giant Frisbee.  Even I was impressed by how far it traveled (at least two hundred meters) before finally splashing down and disappearing beneath the waves.  Turning back to my reluctant new boat crew I asked "Any questions?"  Both men shook their heads vigorously.

"Good." I said.  "See you in the harbor in twenty-four hours.  Oh, and if you get a single scratch on my boat I'll break every single bone in your bodies.  Got that?"  They nodded.  I didn't bother to spare them a second glance as I took off, soaring straight up into the darkening evening sky.  I doubt they'll be any trouble.  They seem to have gotten the message.  I can just picture them, right now, struggling to get the yacht under control, frantically trying to work out which direction they should be heading in, panicking every time they look at the clock, terrified out of their wits.  It's enough to get me giggling.

Anyway, after I left the undynamic duo all at sea, I flew straight towards home.  The journey over the sea had seemed to take forever when I was following Silvio and his glorified paper airplane, but I got back to land in minutes traveling at my own, comfortable pace.  I swooped down into the cave, widening one of the narrow passages inside when I brushed my bare shoulder against the rough rock, so knocking a sizeable chunk to the ground.  Then, I grabbed my case, waved to the pile of bones that used to be Freddie and shot out of the cave.  I had to slow down a little so as to get the suitcase home safely, but I still made it to my new place on the other side of town in under two minutes.

It was then, as I was about to start my descent, that I noticed that the house was not deserted as I expected to find it.  There was a large van with its engine running and its rear double doors open, parked right by the main entrance.  Excited to be receiving my first guests so soon after taking ownership of the property, I dived down, landing gently on my feet behind the vehicle.   Immediately, I saw what was going on.  The back of the van was half-full of expensive-looking ornaments and small pieces of furniture.  Everything seemed familiar to me and I soon worked out from where.  It was my Uncle's stuff from inside the house.  Which means, of course, it was my stuff.

So what idiot was trying to take away a van-load of my possessions?   I thought it unlikely that Tony could have arranged such an operation from a life-raft adrift at sea and even less probable that he would have dared defy me so soon after our encounter.  Then I remembered how I'd left the place to pursue Silvio earlier, with the gates open and a big inviting hole where the front door had been.  A large, grand residence lying so unprotected would have made far too tempting a proposition for any passing opportunist thief.  That's why the vehicle's engine was running - in case a quick getaway was needed and that's why the back doors were open - the intruder or intruders were still loading up stuff.

First things first.  I decided to make sure my new things wouldn't be going anywhere without my say-so.  Putting my suitcase down, I executed a graceful flight-powers-assisted hop with a twist in mid-air which carried me over the length of the van to land facing the windshield.  I was surprised to see a very young looking guy sitting behind the wheel, but nothing like as surprised as he was to see me coming down from the sky.  He stared at me in utter shock for a second before his adrenaline-fuelled instincts took over and he grabbed the gear-stick to put the little truck into reverse.

His youthful movements were swift, but of course I was a thousand times swifter.  I just leant forward a little, hooking the fingers of my left hand around the front grill.  A half-second later, the kid got his foot to the accelerator.  The engine roared but the van didn't move.  My single, dainty hand on the end of my slender arm was more than a match for its opponent, a supposedly powerful motor.  The wheels spun but they could not get sufficient traction on the tarmac.  As the confused driver floored the pedal, smoke began to rise from the over-heating tires but still they could not find a grip to equal mine.  The engine-noise rose to a frantic pitch and the clouds of smoke became thicker, but the contest remained utterly one-sided.

The young man desperately trying to get the van to move was looking in his side mirror, thinking that something must have been obstructing the van from behind.  After a while, though, he happened to glance straight ahead.  I think he spotted my arm anchoring the vehicle, but his eyes were drawn elsewhere.  After all, he was sitting quite high in the driver's seat and I was standing a bit beneath him, bending forward.  He must've had a perfect view right down inside my vest.  At his age, it probably took all his self-discipline not to unzip his flies and start jerking off there and then.

As usual, I was really enjoying having that kind of effect on a guy and I got a little carried away myself.  I used my hand to slowly pull the protesting van closer to me and found, to my delight, that the wheels, spinning furiously against me, offered hardly any noticeable resistance.  There was a sequence of loud bangs as friction wore through the four tires one by one, releasing the pressured air inside and the engine's whine took on a desperate note, but other than that, the vehicle came easily towards me.  I think at that point the driver finally understood what was happening.  I gave him a bright, mischievous smile but I don't know if he was too focused on my bosom to notice.

I leant forward until my nipples, straining at my vest, were touching the front of the van.  The young man began to squirm as more and more of my big round breasts became visible from his vantage point.  Lost in the moment, I slowly bent into the vehicle, loving the feeling of steel and chrome yielding like soft clay to my perfect body.  My chest just effortlessly pushed whatever it encountered out of its way, the metal groaning as it folded and tore, molding itself to my fabulous contours, unable to offer me any contest.  I glanced up at the young man and saw his stunned, lustful expression.  How I love putting on these little shows of my power and sexuality for helpless men!

My latest audience was clearly enthralled as I continued to lean into his vehicle, the more solid metal I now encountered proving no more able to resist me.  My breasts carved into the guts of the van, hot steel now wadding up pleasantly against me.  I was obviously getting close to the engine because I could feel its powerful vibrations ever more insistently against my heavy mounds.  For a few seconds, the beleaguered motor produced a loud, clanking sound as something - i.e. my chest - got into its workings and then, suddenly, it fell completely silent.  I had destroyed the engine, merely by pressing my bust into the front of the van!

I stood up, pulling myself free from the mangled vehicle with utter ease and admired the way the shape of my lovely front was imprinted in the van.  The driver just stared through the windshield of his now useless machine, his jaw almost grazing the steering wheel.  I dashed around to his side and with a single finger hooked around the handle, I yanked the entire door free, its steel hinges tearing audibly.  Then, for good measure I tossed the heavy metal panel casually over my shoulder.  It must have soared over the high open gates at the front of the house, but I didn't turn to look.  Instead I reached in and pulled the young man out by the collar of his leather jacket.

His shock turned to fear as I lifted him clear of the ground and held him out in front of me.  He started the usual kicking and punching as I carried him around the van and into the house, his knuckles quickly bruising against my face, his knees and toes following suit as they failed to make any impression on my exposed thighs and legs.  I pulled him hard against me, our chests meeting with a thump, forcing all the air from his lungs.  Then I kept him tight against me with an arm around his waist.   My breasts were squeezing his ribs inwards, almost to breaking point, which meant that he could only draw enough breath to survive but not nearly enough to use his voice.

As my muted companion and I got inside, I listened for the sound of other intruders.  I heard voices upstairs; two men, discussing what furniture they should take.  Eventually deciding, they began making their way noisily down the big staircase.  I waited out of sight, still carrying the half-suffocated young man.  When the two others got to the bottom, one either end of a large, heavy-looking oak table, I released their colleague, shoving him gently towards them and stepped out of the shadows.  The two with the table put it down awkwardly, relieved to be free of its weight.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demanded, putting my hands on my hips.  By way of an answer, the one who must have been the leader pulled a pistol from his waistband and pointed it at me.  Without blinking I insisted "I asked you what you were doing."

The fellow with the gun seemed a bit surprised at my calmness faced with the barrel of his weapon.  He hesitated for a moment before squeezing the trigger.  I let the bullet hit me on the chin and rebound with a clang on to the floor.  All three now stared in disbelief.  Smiling, I said "Try again."  So he did.  This time his shot smacked into my forehead, crumpling up against my invulnerable skin before it ricocheted harmlessly away.  "You're not very good at this, are you?" I taunted.

Angered by the teasing, he emptied his clip at me.  I guess he was aiming for my heart because three of the remaining four slugs struck me squarely on the left breast, sending small, but pleasant ripples of pleasure through my chest as one by one they bounced, misshapen from my utterly unaffected mound.  The other bullet hit right inside my cleavage, getting stuck for a moment in the valley of my bosom before I shook my chest and it fell out, slightly flattened, onto the floor.  "Is that it?" I asked.  "Haven't you got any more?"

The one who had been shooting put his now useless gun back in his trousers and bending down, pulled a large knife from his sock.  I fought the temptation to laugh as he ran at me with the blade screaming "Die, bitch!"  I just stood there with my hands on my hips as he thrust the point of the weapon at my neck.  I could feel the spot were the tip of the thing touched me, but only when I really concentrated on it.  Meanwhile, the blade bent as he tried to pierce my flesh until it snapped (the blade, that is, not my flesh), leaving my confused attacker holding a useless bit of steel.  At that point, I could no longer contain my laughter.

That seemed to provoke the guy because he balled his hand into a fist and took a huge swing at the side of my head.  I made no attempt to cushion the blow as it landed.  The idiot's screams of agony were only just louder than the sound of every bone in his hand breaking.  As he clutched his ruined fingers to his stomach, still crying out in pain, I smiled at him.  "Here," I offered, helpfully, "let me show you how to do it properly."  I stretched out my hand with my index finger extended and, making sure all three men could see what I was doing, I flicked him under the chin.  It was enough to lift his entire body well off the ground and send it flying backwards to land half-way up the stairs behind him.  I listened, but he wasn't breathing.

That left the young van driver who was still recovering his breath after I'd squeezed it from him and the other table-carrier, a tall skinny guy with a face so covered in acne, it could have passed for a pizza.  Seeing the fate of his colleague, this fellow decided to make a quick dash for the front door.  No way was I going to let him go, so I strode over to the table he and his dead friend had brought downstairs.  They'd really been struggling to lift it between them, but I hoisted the huge oak desk off the ground using one hand with about as much difficulty as I would have experienced lifting a postcard.  A flick of my wrist sent the massive thing sailing through the air to come down with a dull thud right on top of the fleeing man, knocking him instantly to the ground.

The table landed perfectly on its four thick legs, with pizza-face lying on his belly beneath it.  Walking over to him, I bent down and took a hold of one of his ankles, pulling him from under the desk as though he were a nothing more than a piece of fabric, which is how heavy he felt to me.  He didn't protest as I lifted him up by his leg and I soon saw why.  There was a huge, bloody wound in the top of his head where the table had crashed down on him.  He wouldn't be burgling any more homes.  With contempt, I tossed him on top of his pal.  That just left the young driver.

He was quivering as I turned to him.  "Pl... Please.." he began.  Wisely, he'd chosen not to run, or perhaps he was still too winded to try.

"You want to live?" I asked him.  He nodded vigorously as tears rolled down his cheeks.  "Then you'd better start putting everything back.  Starting with that." (I nodded at the oak table).  He went over to the desk and tried to lift it, but as much as he strained and panted, he could only just lift one side of it a few centimeters off the ground.  "Hurry up!" I commanded.  He began to drag the table towards the stairs.  Of course, I'd already thrown it across the room using just one hand, but I wasn't in the mood to help.  I let him haul it tortuously up the stairs, crying silently as he worked, while I just watched.

Once he had finally managed to put the table back upstairs, I instructed him to repeat the process with all the stuff that was already in the van.  He toiled without protest for over an hour until, at last, the mangled vehicle was empty.  The poor kid looked to be on the point of collapse, so for good measure I told him to bring my suitcase in too, which he did, placing it carefully exactly where I told him to.  Then, with a finger, I beckoned him over to me.  He hesitated for a moment before finally approaching.  "Give me your hand." I commanded him.  Cautiously, he obeyed, holding his hand out towards mine.

I took his fingers in my own, and smiling sweetly at him I slowly closed my fist until he screamed.  Then I squeezed some more until I heard the familiar crunching sound of bones disintegrating.  Then I crushed his hand a little more until blood began to run through my fingers.  Letting go of his ruined palm I waited for his yells to subside and said "That's just a little something to remember me by. Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind and send you to join your friends."  I doubt that kid has ever run faster in his life, or ever will.  The fresh amputation certainly didn't seem to slow him down as he sprinted down the street.

The blood had already dripped clean from my hand by the time I stopped watching the young man's disappearing form.  I went upstairs, and explored my lovely new house for a while before opening up my suitcase and settling down to write this diary entry.  It's been a long day, but I'm not tired yet.  In fact, I think I'll change into something a little less conspicuous than my tight vest and panties and then go out on the town tonight.  Who knows, maybe there's still some more fun to be had.  But then, there's always fun to be had when you're super.

 

 

Conceptfan, December 2002.