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The honking of geese (a notebook)
- Posts: 847
- Thank you received: 770
I pushed my cart closer, idly curious what might be built on top of those shapely struts. I didn't get off the Facility grounds often, so a grocery run like this was a rare opportunity to see some new faces. Or butts. I'm not picky. We don't get a lot of turn over at my work. That happens when you have to have top secret clearance and dual PhDs.
The view continued to improve, with trim thighs disappearing into a short sky-blue skirt that was draped over a nicely rounded backside. I'd come far enough around the open glass door to see she was struggling to pull a sack of frozen peach wedges off the top-most shelf in the case. She wasn't going to succeed unless she climbed halfway into the freezer. She had elfin stature to go with the elfin features.
While I might have subconsciously been hoping for an opportunity to make the woman's acquaintance, it was reflexive chivalry the got the better of me that time. "Can I help?"
I hadn't meant to startle her, and I'm not sure that's what actually happened. Instead of jerking back out of the case she... settled, her hips dropping into an easy crouch. The back of my brain screamed "PANTHER!" for a moment, a premonition of being devoured whole gripping my body.
The flicker of primal awareness was quickly forgotten as bright blue eyes turned to examine me. "Sure! Two bags if you don't mind." She backed out of the cold-case with a dancer's lithe grace.
"That's a lot of peaches." I tried to keep the conversation going as I slid into the doorway she had been occupying and grabbed the bags for her. I felt her eyes measuring me up from behind. I'm an ok specimen, I like to think. I didn't hear her gagging or anything.
"I like peaches." She answered, seemingly open to further dialogue. As if reaching around for something to add, she went on, "I make a mean peach-strawberry smoothie."
I finally got a look at the front of her as I loaded the two bags into her cart. Cute. Very. Her cream-colored top pulled enticingly over her pert and petite bosom. Medium-gold hair in a bob just long enough to cover her neck. She had several small braids that put me in mind of a Viking shieldmaiden. "Looks like you already took care of the strawberries." I noted, a little disappointed I wouldn't have another opportunity to fetch for her...
"Always start with the low hanging fruit." she quipped, ending with a smile that had me grinning in return.
"Or the ones on the lower shelves anyway." I added. She laughed.
My quick glance in her cart showed a collection of treats. Prepackaged microwavable foreign food, some cupcakes... A lot of flavors, but no real staples or basics. Someone who either didn't like to cook or didn't have to, most likely. Not all that different from my own cart: We have a very good cafeteria on the compound and runs like this were just to stock my personal fridge in the dorms.
I snickered a little. There was enough sugar in her cart that she must keep to a pretty vigorous exercise regimen to still be so slender. I gestured to the two different containers of ice cream. "Lot of calories." and then mentally kicked myself. Smooth, Darren... Not.
I thought I was done, but she just laughed. "I keep busy. A lot of short walks on long nights."
I froze. That... Those... Those were words you just did not throw casually into conversation unless you were part of the Project. It couldn't be coincidence! Was she a spy? A kidnapper? I wasn't at the top of Technical, but I was still well versed in the T-sec Transformation equations that made the Project possible. My own contributions to stabilizing the injection process were... Shit. I began to look around in a panic.
She must have seen the horror on my face, because she immediately made soothing gestures with both her hands. "Whoa, boss. Different departments, same company. My bad... I thought you recognized me."
My panic began to segue into embarrassment. Was she really part of the Project and I just didn't recognize her? I considered. Yeah. I suppose it was possible she was a Strider and I'd overlooked her in their formations. You just sort of expect Striders to be... taller? And dudes. Storming other planets being sort of the ultimate he-man macho fantasy.
It wasn't quite a jocks-and-nerds thing, but there was a sharp line separating those halves of the organization. Hard to avoid some dour looks when my forgetting to carry the two meant someone's brother-in-arms died screaming. I'd heard they call us 'the witches' sometimes. It wasn't a term of endearment.
Not that we had a lot of women over in Technical either. Still, with a smile like hers, you wouldn't think was possible to have missed it. Aside from being a little short, she pushed enough of my buttons to claim a solid '8'. Then again, the field teams trained in camouflage fatigues that weren't nearly as flattering as what she had on now. But more than the sleek silhouette, it was those eyes - they sparkled with awareness and poise. Instantly mesmerizing for me.
Or it could still be a trap. Bait, chosen specifically to put me at ease.
I'm not ashamed to say I was nearly paralyzed by indecision. I must have looked ridiculous.
Well, if one of us had "first contact scenario resolutions" on their resume it clearly wasn't me. Sensitive to my still looming freak-out, the maybe-Strider/maybe-spy gently backed away, her basket in tow, making it all look quite casual for the store cameras. "Thanks again. Look me up. Tonya. They'll know who you mean, down on the Track." And then to my surprise, seemingly forgiving all my spy thriller paranoia, she licked her lips and added, "I'll make you a smoothie. They're good."
It wasn't until the next day I found out she was on the Project, her name was spelled Tonje, and - as I found out in her quarters - her smoothies were very, very good.
What I really like in this bit is the very conflicting emotions it brings to the table: the opening lines of "how I met her" makes it sound like a sort of romantic memory, but the following reactions from the narrator are anything but. There's a very palpable aura of menace to the whole story that, strangely enough, is enhanced by how Tonje didn't seem to notice. The panther analogy is pretty interesting because it ties in to what I was thinking before: a character whose casual strength (although she doesn't seem to be superhuman yet) is apparent, but not unnnatural. This kind of deal skips past any kind of rational disbelief -- like seeing a cheerleader lifting a car -- and hits straight to the instincts: you look at her and you know that she means business.
(formerly Anon, still Librarian)
"What is the point of having free will if one cannot occasionally spit in the eye of destiny?" ("Gentleman" John Marcone)
I threw a snap kick at her leading leg. Contact! She'd leaned in too far and hadn't been able to free it up. Her own weight anchoring the limb, multiplying the impact. She'd have a lovely bruise to remind her to keep her form centered. Bitch.
I like to think it's a testament to my better nature I hadn't kicked her in the knee. It would have knocked her out of rotation for at least six weeks. See? I am nice. Almost as nice as Darren thinks I am.
Grace hissed. She knew she'd lost that exchange, but she also knew she'd nettled me. She'd found a chink in the Little Valkyrie's armor. We circled, looking for the next opening.
"Oh that's right, tiny Tonje's a thinker, not a fighter." Grace drawled, trying to prey on my academic rather than tactical background. "She doesn't fuck like the rest of us grunts." I wish I could say it didn't bother me, but it would always make me an outsider to some of the folks here. 'Teachers pet!' 'Nobody likes a smart girl...' Not smart enough for Technical, not dumb enough for the brute squad. The shit-stained fabric of my life.
Grace sneered. "NooOOoo. Tonje makes sweet, sweet love. Little half-nerd." Again she threw a punch, but a real one this time.
I was already past her outstretched arm, my own paw coiling around her unguarded head. When my palm spread delicately over her eyes she couldn't help but jerk away from the sudden soft blindness and I rode the motion all the way down to the mat, twisting her torso back and down until she fell. It's no coincidence I fell on her. Then in a blur of rotational violence I had her arm in a horrendous joint lock. The kind you use to break the wings off a chicken carcass before you throw the whole pile in a soup pot.
"Grace? You talk too much." I whispered in her ear, her face pressed to the floor. Then I twisted until she howled like a banshee.
She twitched and struggled and flopped on the floor like a dying fish until finally her thrashing threw me clear. Because superior mass is a motherfucker. She rolled to her feet with bloody murder in her eyes. I'm sure mine were about as friendly.
To my surprise - and her credit - Grace gathered herself up, bowed with the absolute minimum of politeness, and stalked off.
People snickered. Striders are a rough and surly lot. Mostly military types, but with privileges. That loosening of the straps that accompanies any spec-ops posting. Pecking order is inevitable with Long Nights being so rare. Your place on the rotation is EVERYTHING. I was still seething: I just WON, assholes, you don't get to laugh.
While every squad needed its readers and talkers, it was the fighters who called the shots, and that shaped everything in squad politics. I was the Little Valkyrie, a proven survivor, but I wasn't a fighter, in their eyes.
I was panting. And angry. And stupid. "Anyone else want of piece of this? Come on!"
There were twenty or so Striders lounging around the gymnasium. Watching the catfight with practiced disdain. Two of them, big burly males both, started to lean forward. Shit. I just called out an army of professional hardcases. While I could take more of them than most people would admit, I wasn't gonna be able to put down either of those two. Besides, Jim Rakes was a friend. Probably trying to jump in first and save me from myself. Stupid, Tonje. You know better. You are better. Better than this at least.
"Cut me off a slice, Tonje." A powerful baritone voice rang out from the double doors leading out to the rest of the Track, the Strider training complex.
You could actually see the ripple of respectful nods roll though the assembly. Benedict Mace. "The Mace." Six foot-three and the blackest black man I'd ever sat down to eat with. Built like a War God and a legend among Striders. Shot caller for Echo Squad. ...And evidently dropping by the sparing circle to have a fresh slice of yours truly.
I was fucking doomed. He was gonna wad me up into a ball and then shoot hoops with my ass. Woosh! Nothing but net. Literal statement, not metaphor. Make any joke you like about black boy from the Oakland 'hood, but Mace was as good at basketball as he was with a rifle - which is to say scary.
He marched onto the mat. Nothing slack or leisurely in his movements. Somehow, this beating was work instead of play. A task he needed to get done before moving on to other business. I wished there was some way I could just surrender. Save us both the time.
No. Fuck that. The mat deserved better. Hell, Mace deserved better. It might be months before I got another chance to throw down with some of the Project's best again. I'd been busted back to a second stringer, attached to the Track. On par with the rookies who fought and kicked and bit and scratched for chance to go Walkabout. Hoping to be tapped for a slot on the regular squads. Go pro, run with the big dogs. Maybe even lower than the rookies - I had the stink of death on me.
He looked me over, appraising me with cold killer's eyes. "You need a minute?" It wasn't kindness or mockery. It was just a question. No subtext at all.
My pride said "hell no" but I'd managed to get my bare foot on its neck and press down by then. Instead I put up one finger and dashed for my bag, getting a bottle of water and a towel. One quick sip, check my hair was still tied back, a brusque pat down with the towel to get the sweat out of my eyes and I was as ready as I'd ever be.
We bowed. It was formal, precise, and perfect. It filled me with pride. Mace was taking this seriously. He didn't have to.
I came out fighting. My only hope was to startle him. Shock him with my ferocity. Make him flinch.
Instead he took me to school. Countered every shift, shook every grab, canceled every strike. It was masterful and somewhere outside my own ego there was the pure delight of seeing a master at work. I'd had years of Aikido, but the Track catered to more of an MMA crowd. It was a crucible where players from all kinds of backgrounds mingled. I'd seen moves in that ring -- good moves -- that there were no names for.
He was just too goddam BIG. Skill can balance the scales against weight or reach or even strength, but when you have all those thing AND skill? Doomed.
It was maybe the longest three minutes of my life, and I will go to my grave beaming, telling and retelling the tale of how I caught The Mace with a sweet elbow to the ribs. Just once. Right there I finally had his respect, because only seconds later he took my legs away from me and planted me like a tree. When the world stopped spinning he was on my chest like an avalanche.
I looked up and could not repress the grin. "What kind of jerk hits a little girl?" I laughed even though he'd destroyed me. "If I had your size, your strength, that would've been REAL fun."
He loomed over me like a storm cloud, he white teeth a flash of lightning against his dark face. "If I had your snow white skin, I'd have ranked out of field ops a decade ago. Tell me another sad story."
He rose and the pressure lifted off my chest like a 747 taking off. I didn't decline the hand up he offered.
I was just shy of wheezing, sweat rolling down my body. I'd thrown everything I had at him. My honest best.
He looked about the same as when he walked in. Show off.
He also wasn't leaving. Odd.
"Anything else, Mace?"
"Yes. Dane is out on bereavement leave. His sister passed last night. That means Echo is short a pair of boots on our next Long Night. You want the slot?"
Right then I resolved to stop giving Darren shit about his "deer in the headlights" moments anytime the world catches him off guard. Because I'm pretty sure that's what I looked like. Deer. Headlights.
Mace waited another beat, then shrugged and started to turn away.
"Yes. Yes, absolutely!" I tried hard not to squeal like a schoolgirl. Pretty sure I failed. Real smooth. Darren would have laughed. With me, not at me.
"Good. Walk with me." He stated flatly.
I didn't even stop for my bag.
He stalked through the halls, a measured stride that made zero concessions to my half-trot trying to keep up. Everywhere we went the other Striders' body language offered up rough-hewn respect. I followed him out of the building and out onto the actual track that gave the Track its name. He didn't pause, and soon we were in the woods that bordered the compound.
In other circumstances I might have been terrified. Alone in the woods with a massive black man who had just proven he could absolutely dominate me despite martial arts training that had stretched across the whole of my adult life. I didn't even have my phone.
Finally, he sat down on a big rock beneath a tree and looked at me, still nearly eye to eye with me standing.
He looked so at ease. So comfortable. Regal even, perched on that rough stone. I realized this this was his office. Not behind a desk. A real fighter.
"Tell me about October."
There it was. No getting around it.
"You've read the report." I answered dully. He was a squad captain. Of course he knew everything in my record before he'd even considered pulling me in.
"I have. Now tell me."
"Six of us walked in. Three of us walked out." Every Long Night was a freefall into the dark... But some landings were rougher than others. Bad judgement. A junior captain. Shit luck. I told the tale and pulled no punches. My captain had gotten it wrong, the natives were restless, and at the end of the day I had been the one who had to make the call: we all came back as honored dead or some of us lived to Walk another day. I chose survival, for some. I also chose who would die. Thrown to the wolves. I still see them in my nightmares. Even the dipshit captain.
"The Little Valkyrie. Chooser of the Dead." Mace mused, when I'd finished. I hadn't gotten the nickname because I was blonde. Ok, that might have contributed.
I nodded, more exhausted from dredging up those bad memories than even the struggle on the mat had left me. 'Soulsick', Darren calls it. Best name I've ever heard for it. I get soulsick, sometimes. Then he makes me soup and he... he's just... Darren. Then I'm not as sick any more.
Mace rubbed his ribs, acknowledging a hit likely no one else in the gym had even seen. "Good."
"Good?" I echoed. Honestly I didn't know what to make of his response.
"Tell you a secret. Little above your pay grade, but I think you've earned it. I've been on some bad Walks too. Only I came back alone. Sole survivor. Nothing I could have done different or better would have made one damn bit of difference. Striders die."
I nodded. Ugly truth. Hard truth.
"As far as I'm concerned, you're two up on me. You didn't lose three, you saved three. You're in." He glanced at his watch. "Long Sunset's in 70 hours. You know the chalk times. See you at the briefings."
With that he got up and strode back towards the Track without a backward glance.
Deer. Headlights. Darren. Forgiveness. Maybe even redemption.
These eyes would see the light of other days once more.
My exhaustion banished by joy, I took off to find Darren at a full sprint.
Like any geek, I was eager to get door locks that could be voice activated. It would be wonderfully Babylon 5-esque if I could just announce "come." from my couch and not get up. As advanced as the Chasm Project is in some ways, we still have to open our own doors, at least in the living quarters.
Even as I was turning the doorknob, I imagined Tonje chiding me for not checking who it was first. In my head I'd protest "but we're on a secure base." She'd give me that look that says I'm cute, but wrong. Essentially a replay of several actual conversations we'd had. I'm not safety conscious enough, I admit it. But she's maybe a little hyper aware. Good skill for ...out there. Little taxing back here in the rear echelon as it were.
The door flew inwards and suddenly I was engulfed up to my chin in squealing Tonje, the smell of her hair filling my world. I think my ribs creaked a little in her powerful hug. She must have been extra excited - she wasn't scolding me for my overly trusting door-opening habits.
"I'm in!" she cried out. Several times in fact.
"That's great!" Her enthusiasm really is infectious. "In what?" I finally asked as she all but carried me back to the couch. I'd put on a few pounds of muscle and lost an equal amount of flab since we'd started dating, but being able to pick up or at least drag guys like me was an actual job requirement for her.
"The next Walk! Mace brought me in with Echo Squad."
"'Oh'?" She eyed me sharply. Released from her embrace at last, I slumped into the couch.
"Sorry. That is great. I just worry."
"It's what I do, Darren. it's why I'm-"
Oh shit. I had about a second to deflect this before she got completely furious. "I mean it, Tawn. I am happy for you but I am also worried. For you. I imagine how dangerous it is... but you know its dangerous." She slid into the couch next to me. "So let me be a little frightened for both of us. Then you can go out and explore universes without being afraid at all. Deal?"
"That sounds like a good deal." She said quietly, then hugged me around the middle again. Her head lifted from my shoulder and she looked into my eyes. "Besides, I've got you watching out for me. Doing the math."
"Your very own witch."
"Ug." her face turned sour. "You heard that?"
"It's Chasm. 'The walls have ears and the floor has teeth.' I pay a lot more attention to the Striders now. Since you found me. Since us." I smiled, faintly regretting having brought the nickname up.
"You know I don't feel that way about Technical." She half-pleaded. "Or you."
"I know. I don't blame them, either. What we do IS magic. Besides, Striders weren't the ones to start calling the injection port 'the Cauldron'. That got started on my side of the fence. Because some of us like being thought of as wizards and witches." I twisted my face into a mock sneer and wiggled my fingers "I'll get you yet, my pretties!" I stage-cackled.
She thumped me on the chest. "Quit it you, I'm being serious."
I have to say, I love her touch. Even when she's frustrated with me. She cares. Deeply.
I let the witch's mask expression fall off my face. "Actually, Piers is doing the injection modeling for Echo. I'm crunching the next cycle."
She grumbled a little, deep in her chest. Like a grumpy bear.
"...But obviously I can go over his work. Piers won't mind some peer review." He would mind, but he'd still let me if I pressed. Identifying viable apertures into parallel realities was fussy business, still more art than science. There's some concerns about 'observer effect' that scare the shit out of us over in Technical. That the numbers... move... depending on who is looking at them.
Maybe it was better if I checked the math.
"Good. I'd like that. I'd feel safer knowing you were keeping watch."
I hugged her closer, my faux pass seemingly forgiven. "I'll do that. Promise."
After that we sat together for a little while. Watching TV, snuggling, and not talking much. Basking in each other's simple presence. Once in a while I'd feel her shiver in delight, thinking about her new assignment, I'm sure. Sometimes just holding hands is incredibly intimate.
Finally, my stomach rumbled.
"Food?" I asked. Supergirl reruns were fun, but nature calls.
"I could cook?" Tonje offered.
"I was thinking get some take-out from the cantina."
"Ouch." She smirked. "You're never going to forgive me for burning that omelet, are you?"
"What? No... I just thought we could get some food and get back to watching movies. I didn't want to spend time in the kitchen either." She's not the greatest cook, but I'd never stand in the way of her trying to improve.
She laughed. "In my defense, you were distracting me." Her hand slid between my thighs. "Like... This..."
Ooo. Now that was playing dirty. "Uuufff. Yes. That is... rather distracting."
I squirmed and she rolled over to straddle me on the couch. She always liked to be on top. "How about you go fetch food, and I'll make dessert?"
"I like this plan." I nodded vigorously.
"So... what do you want for dessert?"
"Mmm. Are we asking Questions now?" I smiled. You could hear the capital Q. It was a game that had broken the ice between us many times. If you ask one, you have to answer one. A bit like truth or dare. Honest answers required.
"Alright. Sure. Question: What is... your favorite dessert?"
My eyes went vacant, thinking hard. Like solving a complex curve. My witch's trance. Finally: "Cherry cobbler. Hot from the oven with French vanilla ice cream melting on it."
"Oh... that does sound good. Easier than a cake or something, too."
"Yup. Grandma used to make big trays of the stuff for family gatherings. Better in a bowl than on paper plates though. Less messy."
"You are just so grown up now." She giggled, then mimed whipping something off my face and licking her finger, obviously envisioning me as a kid with cherry-filling goop all over the place. "So, do you have the ingredients?"
"I do, actually. I just usually don't get off my butt and make it."
"Excellent. Then you grab diner, and I'll make some cobbler."
"Yu-umm! I'll grab my shoes. But first, my turn... Question: What is... your favorite Disney princess."
"Oh my god. You are going to hell, Darren." She's even cuter when she's aghast, I realized, treasuring the rare opportunity to spin her up without getting punched for it.
"Good, That's where the interesting people end up, and I'm lousy with cold weather. Now 'fess up."
She grumbled at me. "I hate you. A little. That's just so..."
"Girly? Come on. I bared the cherries in my soul. Spill it."
"Kida. From Atlantis." She crossed her arms over her chest, unwilling to give any more.
"Hmm. I'm not sure that even counts. I don't think she sings."
Ok, that got me punched. I probably even deserved it.
"Come on, Tawn. I included vanilla ice cream and Grandma. You've gotta give some details."
Tonje's face squinched up before the dam finally broke and it all came out in a flood. "She's just so tall, and strong, and a warrior - she's like three thousand years old and doesn't look a day over eighteen and she flies, in one scene kinda, and..."
I caught her in the pause as she finally had to inhale. "And she gets the nerd in the end, too. The resemblance is uncanny."
"You!!" She burst out laughing and flopped onto my chest. "My witch. MINE. ...Now go get us some food. Something spicy."
I pulled her close, the difference in our height making it simplest to kiss her on the forehead. "I love you. I'll be back soon." I didn't mean to sound so solemn, but the reason she'd come over was still there in the room, inescapable.
She hugged me tight again, so much stronger than me. "I love you too. ... and I promise I'll come back. I'll always come back."
- The Highlander
- SWM - Junior
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The Highlander wrote: Interesting new story and I really like Mace. It's so refreshing to come across a character who is professional and secure in himself instead of being ruled by his ego.
Mace should continue to impress, hopefully. I do love me some competence porn . He has ego, but as you say, it's not the boss of him. As Tonje's direct boss and sometimes idol, he's got some weight to carry.
Thanks for the feedback!
I flashed him a smile, then rolled my eyes. He grinned and shrugged. It's something of a running joke between us. Funny how streamlined briefings become when your intel is pretty much, “As usual, we know nothing.”
The witches –excuse me, Technical– do their digital voodoo and then the Striders get handed a window. A little patch of fuzzy logic where we can use ten billion dollars of custom hardware to push stuff from our world “into nearby parallel worlds”. Neat, huh?
That said, I have no idea what ‘nearby’ means in that sentence. I have more experience than most and when we get there all I can say is “looks like we aren’t in Kansas anymore, Toto.” It’s a joke I think all the squads share. Except maybe Alpha. They’re kind of ‘serious dogs’ over there. They have that ‘we’re #1’ image to uphold.
People began to shuffle out. There's always a ton more people at last call than just the Squad that's up. Chasm Group management. Reps from other squads. Guests of the Project. Darren managed not to wink, but he did slip in a fond glance to me as he left the podium. This was my fourth Long Night with Echo. Third with Darren as our lead Witch. Plus, I know he had a hand in that first Long Night too, even if it was Piers at the podium for the "Be safe. We know nothing" speech. We’ve had a couple real winners, come home with the phat loots. Viable technology and even some hot media that Chasm could barter for funding. Appease the secret overlords. Pay my salary.
That hot streak had decisively shut people up at the Track about me and Darren. Even just three in a row with no fatalities was noteworthy. We Striders are a superstitious lot and nobody wanted to jinx a good thing. In fact, I think Grace is trying to find her own ‘pet witch’ to get a more benevolent eye crunching Delta’s numbers. Guess I'm a trend-setter now.
Twenty minutes to zone out. Personal time: you pray, you meditate, you listen to music. Whatever it takes to get your shit together before lining up for your quantum-assisted suicide pact. Then final assembly: the six members of Echo Squad would gather up on this big platform in the center of what looks suspiciously like a high-tech Stonehenge and they… I dunno? Turn it on? Step three: magic occurs, the Cauldron bubbles, and anything on the platform gets pushed into another world. ‘Injected’ is the technical term.
Anyway, depending on how well they lined everything up and tuned the antennas and whatnot, you get around 72 hours before everything that was on the platform gets pushed back out of the other world and we all get sent home.
You, or your body at least, always comes back. But as honored dead or heroes? Yes, I have a strong preference every time the universe asks me that question.
I’m oversimplifying when I say “as usual, we know nothing.” Technical has actually come a long way. They hardly ever squirt us into other Earths where it’s hard vacuum at the surface or Venus-like heat and pressure (both readily recognizable by the crispy-crunchy corpses that come back at Dawn). They used to try sending drones through first. Sounds reasonable, right? Then they discovered you can only get one crack at a Long Night – no sending drones in, then sending people in after you knew it was safe. It’s go or no go. All or nothing. So Striders go. Because so far, they still need people like me to exploit what we’re finding out there: Parallel worlds. Alternate Earths. Other Histories.
So, when Darren says the ‘harmonics are favorable’, that’s witch-talk for they’re pretty sure we’re gonna be able to breathe. I don’t know about you, but I’m partial to breathing.
That’s actually where the second big breakthrough came in for Striders. It only took a couple fatalities to work out why people were coming back with no oxygen anywhere in their bloodstream and instantly suffocating on the Cauldron pad. When Dawn comes, you get pulled back to the Cauldron. But ONLY you come back. Just the atoms and molecules that went over in the first place. We all carry a compressed air charge now – just enough to get you properly oxygenated before popping back to our world. Same thing with food – you end up coming home looking like molecular Swiss-cheese if you don’t stick to the rations we bring with us. Classic learn-by-dying. Turns out the old folktales are true: it's better to fast for a few days than eat faerie-food while you're Underhill.
Darren says injection is strictly an exchange of information between worlds. All the matter remains discrete. Out of tune with each other in some way, I guess. There's a unique signature for every timeline. At least, that's how Darren's tried to explain it to me. Which seems like a big plus to me: that really limits the contamination we might bring back. If we piss off one of the more advanced cultures we're burgling, they can't just slip one of their out-of-tune nukes into our pants and send it home with us. That's not paranoia, that's tactics.
Tick-tock. Personal time. Me? I listen to music before my Walks. Sometimes I even dance. I should probably meditate, clear the mind for the rigors of the task ahead. But if I ever do Walk into a runaway greenhouse hell-hole, or get smeared across the side of a mountain, I don’t want my last minutes to have been serene. I want to go out living.
Mace eats. Chows down like it’s his last meal, every time. I tried that, but I just end up throwing up once we get there. Sometimes it’s good knowing there’s someone just better at all this than you are. Gives you hope you can get better too.
The others have their own rituals. Cooper prays. I would not have taken him for a Muslim, but there you are. I’m not sure what the other three do. It is personal time after all. Some people see their families. I always think about using that time to see Darren, share a few words. Hold hands. But then it feels like that’d just unsettle both of us. Make it too real.
Besides, he’s got his hands full babying the Cauldron, right down to the wire. "Fussy" becomes an incredibly scary word, when he says it. As in "the Cauldron's fussy sometimes." I’d rather he be fully focused on riding that horse instead of trying to be brave for me.
And just like that twenty minutes is gone. Here we go again: another Long Sunset, and the start of my eighth Long Night. The Cauldron is an outdoors site, heavily shrouded in sails and awnings to obscure aerial and satellite photography. The bosses would have rather put the whole deal underground, but that had a nasty habit of destroying early probes – there’s not usually a matching cave or complex on the other side. Getting injected into solid rock pretty much defines ‘Messy’. Yes, we’re one of those spots Google Earth doesn’t show, courtesy of some mutual backscratching with the NSA. If you were to look online, all you’d see is trees.
Which is amazing when you consider we’re just one ridgeline east of Berkley. The Cauldron practically has line of sight on San Francisco. Yup, just roll down the hill and over a bridge and you're in one of the biggest cities in the world. That works out too for the Striders – we don’t have a lot of time to find the natives and take pictures of their stuff. The City by the Bay seems to exist in one form or another in many, many alternate histories. A major shipping hub, the privilege of its geography. The underlying continent doesn’t seem to change much as you step across worlds. Maybe that’s what they mean by “nearby parallels”? Hmm. Might have to ask that when I get back.
I started the climb up on our mound of gear, heading for my tent. It’d be cool if things were more like that TV show with the stargate – bold soldiers marching into a wall of silvery light. Not nearly as dramatic when you’re huddling in a heavy-duty reinforced pup-tent while the big machines spin up. Rough landings are rough -- man-killing hail or a little West Coast hurricane waiting to greet you. Sometimes all you can do is hunker down and wait for Dawn. Then shake it off and Walk another day. Which is what made Echo’s hot streak so exciting for everyone. Word is we’re being bumped up in the rotation. Slotting us in as often as possible. Priority, baby! (you know, after Alpha's dance card is full, but still.)
Nope, instead of a cinematic conqueror's march up the ramp to a big shiny portal, real Striders go tucked into a heap of gear that would make any troop of Boy Scouts think they’d died and gone to Scout Heaven. “Ready for anything.” We’ve got some gold and silver coins, a few trade-goods, like whiskey. Even some porn because: men, duh. But not much that’s super high-tech other than our radios and adventure-cameras. My personal favorite are the bikes. Hardcore mountain bikes with detachable electric motors. Whoever figured out to start packing those in was a genius. Gives us a ton more range.
Its all "minimum footprint". Eco-friendly for all the most selfish reasons. This is asymmetrical exploration and exploitation: we’re supposed to bring back more than we share, even by accident. Because one of these days we’re gonna pop out of the Cauldron sitting on somebody else’s Cauldron, and who knows what they might inject back into our world? There's actually a whole chapter in the guide book for that scenario. DO NOT piss off anybody who looks like they have this tech too.
Paranoid? Yes. Too paranoid? Not even.
I saw Darren circling on one of the catwalks. He was listening to the big pylons powering up. Keeping watch for me. I waved. He waved back and gave me a huge thumbs up. It was going to be our first anniversary in a couple weeks. We’d been trying to set ground rules for buying presents. Not overdo it. But I still wanted it to be special. He... He'd changed my life.
The whine rose and the light took on the weird crystalline sheen it always did right before injection. I zipped up my shelter. Here it comes! I wished I could bring him back something. Just a little taste of the wonders out there. We filmed everything of course, but I wished there was something tangible I could share with him…
Why? Why did I have to go and jinx it like that?
Been swamped working on my Patreon page, but I have been tinkering with a bit of a rewrite for Best. Day. Ever. I'm looking to split it into two parts with some substantial changes and embellishment to the activities at the masquerade.
Until it's ready, here's a new scene with Sylvia scratching a very important itch.
Ian was in the zone. Cutting through the chemical-scented waters of the Olympic sized training pool, he felt his muscles humming with barely constrained energy. His ears heard the commotion at poolside, but his brain filtered out everything except the need to go faste–
His hand struck something more unyielding than the molded concrete rimming the pool and suddenly there was a presence in the water. There was someone under him in the swim lane. He let out a startled yelp that cost him precious air as he was swept up in an impossible undertow and drawn down into the depths.
The presence resolved himself into a female figure. Incredibly female actually. Ian’s brain struggled to make sense of the curvaceous swirl of peach-colored skin beneath him even as one of her legs coiled around his, killing all real resistance her could offer.
It was a girl! She had him wrist and leg and while he was certainly strong, nothing he did seemed to budge her at all. Ian was baffled. While she seemed to be about as tall as him, he still should have been able to shake her off. He was no stranger to pool-wrestling. Water-tussling with women too. He’d gone midnight skinny dipping in this very pool with the hottest of his fans many times. Some of them were dangerously grabby, not having his respect for the water. But this naked pool-nymph left them all dog-paddling in the shallow end in both the strength and looks departments. She was monumentally curvaceous, while her belly and limbs sported a degree of sleek muscle-tone that left him aroused and jealous at in the same time. The single graceful hand around his wrist had him shackled more firmly than handcuffs and she pulled him to the bottom without any obvious paddling or kicking. They just sank.
He still had breath to spare but his inability to pull away left Ian with a growing sense of alarm. He tried to push away with his free hand but she shifted slightly and he instead found his fingers splayed across her massive breast. Before he could even feel shock at how soft and warm her flesh was, she’d caught his other wrist in her vice-like grip and was grinding both his hands into her breasts.
Sylvia shivered, eyes closed. She experienced a couple of tiny orgasms on the spot, not just from the sensation of his hands now vigorously groping at her beautiful breasts, but because this was IAN, the man she’d stalked for months, now eager to please, to worship her. Their roles reversed with him desperately desiring her and entirely at her mercy. She held his life literally in her hands... and between her lips.
Ian saw the pool-angel open her eyes with a wide smile before she leaned in over her own glorious bust and kissed him full on the lips. Sweet, cool air blew out of her and Ian inhaled deeply, silencing the terrified gibbering of the part of his mind certain he would drown in her steely embrace.
They touched bottom. She’d spun them about so his ass cheeks were pressed to the smooth concrete while she straddled him, effortlessly anchoring him to the floor. She moved like she wasn’t even in the water, its thick resistance meaningless before her delicate strength.
Ian looked up at the surface, a mere eight feet and forever far away. Little pieces of something floated on the surface. He realized the scraps were the remains of his swim trunk. He had no idea when in this fantasy scenario she’d torn them off him, but it explained the gentle probing of her fingers on his bare scrotum as she slid him into herself.
Ian’s eyes rolled back in his head. The sensations of slippery warmth and pulsating pressure on his cock were staggering. Had he said pool-angel? He quickly upgraded the creature inexorably fucking his brains out to Pool- Goddess! Then seconds later before he lost the use of words entirely he promoted her again to something closer to the truth – ‘Sex Goddess’. The pool was just a window of opportunity.
Sylvia had meant to get back to the flat already, but she wasn’t going to deny herself this. She levered herself slowly up and down Ian’s trembling rigid pole, reveling in both the magnificently rich sensations coming from her fully-stuffed cleft and the sense of absolute power she held over the object of her once-mortal obsessions. She was pool-fucking the gorgeous team captain like no one else ever had or ever could.
Every third luxurious stroke she leaned down, trapped his groping hands between her breasts and his own chest, and blew another breath of life-giving air into his lung through his delicious lips. She felt him, his skin, his chemistry, his faintest tremor in more detail than any girlfriend or lover before her. With that insight Sylvia played his body like a harp, plucking his strings to make music in his brain. Binding his love to her forever. ‘Mine. He’s Mine!’ Sylvia’s body trembled again, the awkward nerd in her soul still growing into the powers of a Goddess.
Strong hands seized Sylvia roughly and she nearly lost the tune laughing. A half dozen of the athletic young men in the pool had come to Ian’s rescue only to discover they’d have an easier time lifting an anvil out of the bottom of the pool. Once again, she came. Filled with delight that now the entire swim team were pursuing her instead of vice versa.
Sylvia archer her back and spread her arms wide, displaying her breasts proudly to the squad of would-be rescuers, inviting them to get a handhold wherever they liked. All the while the oil well pumping of her hips drove Ian closer and closer to desperate release. She pulled four more of the yummy boys to the bottom, two on each arm as she leaned down to give Ian the next life-giving ‘air kiss’ that could only come from her bottomless lungs. Three of them released her, springing of the bottom to race to the surface for air, but one remained. She saw in his eyes he had realized not only was she beautiful beyond words, but that Ian was in no danger as long as this sea-goddess remained satisfied. Like a mermaid giving the gift of water breathing, they were all free to stay beneath the surface until she was done. He grinned at her and her heart swelled.
Abruptly his swim trunks were in as many tatters as Ian’s and his cock was engulfed into the warm, rasping glory of the goddess’s mouth. Sylvia casually juggled sucking him off while keeping both him and Ian supplied with air. The others returned with reinforcements but now they were like little fish, stealing kisses and caressing her body as Sylvia drew orgasm after orgasm from their team captain and the bravest of them all who had dared stay down to face her.
After seventy-one tiny orgasms — the kind that would hospitalize any other woman — Sylvia’s ripples of cascading pleasure began to align, building to a full K-gasm. She embraced it, the pool becoming a vortex as her thrashing grew faster and faster. When she came, there was a burst of foamy water bigger than if the entire pack of male swimmers had all cannon-balled into the pool at once. Sylvia rose gently out of the swirl, Ian and the other young man she’d chosen to bless held one in each arm. She kissed them each on the forehead, almost motherly as their spent and exhausted bodies trembled helplessly. They were victims of excruciatingly intense male multiple orgasms evolution had never prepared them for.
“Now, I want you to practice hard.” She said encouragingly, her words laced with enough breathy promise of sex to set their hips bucking again. “I’m going to expect even better from you next time.” She warned, a dangerous lilt in her words.
Before they could even flinch, she dropped them fifteen feet into the pool and vanished.
One millisecond later and three miles up, Sylvia grabbed her own breasts, working them roughly with her infinite strength in a way the boys below never could. She easily summoned another superhuman K-gasm just because she could. Holding herself at the pinnacle of bliss for long seconds that were an eternity, Sylvia looked out over the city. From up here the whole world was laid out before its new Goddess, waiting breathlessly for her to claim it in any way and every way she wanted! Super Sylvia, the most powerful, the most sexy, and soon to be the most sexual woman in the galaxy. Fuck. Yes.
“Best. Day. Ever.” she whispered, then set her sights on home.
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TheRo wrote: Glad to hear that. Do you have a link to the patreon, or is it something totally unrelated?
My Patreon is for a tabletop RPG I'm designing/writing. The system supports several near-future and sci-fi settings I've created. I did release a small 'street-level superheroes' article for it recently (modeling the Defenders series on Netflix) so you can make superstrong bulletproof ubergirls (and they're even balanced to play alongside other 'normal' characters ). You'd see some of the same world-building and character development skills that go into my stories here but its more about creating a toolbox for roleplaying games .
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By Au Goose
A work of erotic fiction (NSFW). Any resemblance to anything or anyone in the real world is far too much to hope for. For topical use only. Cease use immediately if a rash develops. Big dreams enrich us all.
The thug on the right pulled a knife. The blade wasn’t especially big, but in the shadowy confines of the alley behind the diner, it was terrifying. Even scarier with him looming over them. “Ok girls, hand over your cash and phones.”
“Plus anything good you’ve got in that satchel, Miss,” the second added, coolly scanning their outfits and belongings. For muggers, they were almost polite. Professional thugs, not just street ruffians.
Bree just smiled. Grinned, really.
Sophie started digging worriedly in her purse, the earlier conversation they’d been having inside the diner forgotten in her panic. Bree told her she’d found… something… in the basement of the Royal Museum and it had changed everything. Bree had claimed to have superpowers now. A silly prank, Sophie had decided as Bree twisted first a spoon and then a fork around her fingers like they were taffy. Bree had to be putting her on, gag rubber silverware or something. Nobody really had superpowers, except in the movies.
One of the men growled and she shuddered, digging faster.
Bree, on the other hand, was giddy at the prospect of meeting someone she could rough up in good conscience. The sandy-haired pixie’s heels lifted and her shoulders hunched as she dropped into an exaggerated boxer’s crouch. “Ya’ done messed with the wrong girl now, arseholes. Here comes the lightning …” She threw a pair of respectably fast jabs with her right hand. “And the thunder!” She mimed an uppercut. Naturally, since she’d never actually boxed a day in her life it all looked rather silly.
One of the men raised his eyebrow. “Really?” He twirled his knife with cool proficiency like he might only mean to clean his nails with it instead of tearing the girls open.
Sophie, still scared out of her wits whispered far too loudly, “I thought the saying was ‘bring the thunder’. Then you say you’ve got the lightning...” Then Sophie grimaced at herself. ‘The things that go through your head when you think you’re about to die…’
Bree stood up slightly and turned to her friend, confused. “What? No … Lightning always comes first. That’s what makes the thunder. …Doesn’t it?”
“I think you hear the thunder first—”
“Either way, ladies,” The second thug interrupted, eager to move things along to the part where he took their money. “Any time a guy’s dumb enough to actually say that crap in the movies, he’s about to get his ass kicked.” He started to move closer, knife held low now. Not for cleaning his nails then.
“Well, this—” Bree stepped closer to the alley wall and threw a hard straight punch at the bricks … Which exploded in a shower of dull red gravel and dust. “Ain’t the movies.” She turned back to face them and in the process her hip grazed the side of a trash dumpster. Metal squealed and Bree, trying to cover her clumsiness, leaned into it on purpose now. When she finally stepped away it looked like the bin lorry had misjudged the distance and crushed it against the building.
The two thugs were a matched set: jaws hanging agape. One dropped his knife and stepped back without even knowing it - the smart one, clearly.
Sophie’s eyes went just as wide. Holy shit, Bree really did have superpowers!
“Look boys …” Bree reached into the crater she’d made in the wall and pulled a mostly intact brick out. She held it in her open palm level with her eyes so they could see it. “I’m having a really nice day.” She clenched her hand into a fist and the brick simply vanished into a cloud of grainy dust with a kind of sad ‘pop’. The spray of grit made her want to blink, but it would’ve totally blow the moment if she did. “So why don’t you just move along … and nobody will have to get obliterated.”
Oh yeah! That piece of weird white metal she’d found had done a number on her and she was loving it! So. Fucking. Sexy. She didn’t know if she was bulletproof, but she thought she had to be at least knife-proof. She could pick these two up by the scruff of the neck like kittens and there wouldn’t be a damn thing they could do about it.
“Sound fair?” She grinned at them. Quite wickedly, she thought.
The smart mugger nodded. The other just stared at her hand, streaked with red like dried blood. He wasn’t sure what ‘obliterated’ was, but it sounded bad. The nodder grabbed wide-eyes’s shoulder, dragging him off with awkward haste.
“And get a haircut!” Sophie shouted from behind Bree’s shoulder as they vanished back into the warren of access lanes behind the row of storefronts. She turned to Bree “That … was … AWESOME! Pick me up. You can do that, right?!”
Bree rolled her eyes. She’d already told Sophie the first thing she’d done after getting zapped was push her way out from under tons of toppled racks of old museum bric-a-brac. Sophie wouldn’t feel any heavier than one of the Cadbury Crunchie bars Sophie always carried around in her purse.
“Fine, fine.” She held out her cupped hand at knee level, inviting Sophie to step into the stirrup of her palm. “Put your hands on the walls for balance if you need to. I still don’t know why it didn’t do anything for you…” Or why it had only worked once for her, she silently added. “I’m just glad it happened when it did. Otherwise, I’d be a pancake, squashed flat under all that old junk the Royal Museum’s throwing out.”
Sophie chuckled, maybe a little jealous now at her inability to get a response from the odd metallic lump while they’d sat in the diner. “I know, right?”
Maybe their nerdette roomie Sylvia will have a better idea than holding it in your hands and saying ‘Work, dammit!’ The American girl they shared a flat with was good with puzzles. A little weird and embarrassingly boy-crazy, but smart too. It was a good thing her grades were so good or she’d probably have been expelled after the ‘swim-team incident’. She’d been caught stalking the whole team. Sophie couldn’t fault her tastes: those boys were deliciously hunky. And completely out of league for any of the trio. Bree, Sophie, and Sylvia were all just... ordinary.
At least they had been until today. But things were looking up.
Sitting in the diner, Sophie had gazed at the unresponsive metal wondering ‘what if?’ What if Bree’s crazy story was true? She’d scoffed before: plainly nothing was happening to her when she held the nugget and made a wish. But after seeing Bree crush that brick effortlessly, she was a believer! Bree was like … like super-hero strong! But maybe the little rock’s magic had all been used up on Bree?
Either way, the idea of one of her roommates having superpowers was getting Sophie very turned on. She began to discretely run her hands over her brave defender’s arms, trying to feel the incredible power they contained.
As if Bree were reading her mind, she crooned “You know Syl’s gonna swoon when we show her how strong I am now. She really gets off on this stuff!” Everything the two of them knew about comic book heroes was from Sylvia chattering away or dragging them off to the cinema. Bree bent over and held out her hand, inviting Sophie to step into it. “Ready? Allez up!”
Sophie’s head rose like she was on a lift, balancing on one foot. Bree knew she could have raised her overhead much faster. Enough to toss her friend onto the roof with a single heave. Or higher … Bree felt so incredibly strong she supposed she could have just as easily flung Sophie tens of thousands of feet up into the path of an oncoming jet-liner or something. In her moment of need, she’d wished she was strong enough to escape her predicament, but the nugget had made her dozens of times stronger than had been required. Maybe hundreds of times stronger. Multiplying her one desperate wish until she had real, live superpowers now! Even if she just did construction work or something, she was set for life.
Bree figured holding the larger girl over her head was about as difficult as carrying a dandelion: the challenge wasn’t the weight but being delicate enough not to shake the fluff off. Bree shivered just thinking about it. She! Was! So! Powerful! She was playing it cool, but inside she was astonished how light Sophie— no, how light everything felt to her after her accident. When the racks went over, nearly crushing her she’d wanted – needed – to be stronger. Somehow she was certain it was the little chunk of metal that had given her strength beyond belief. Her desperate desire to survive dialed up to eleven… or eleven-hundred, maybe. Now she was— she was like Superman strong!
Once Sophie got her balance, Bree obligingly trotted around the maze of alleyways just off the street with Sophie held aloft in one hand. For her part, Sophie giggled like a child. With one foot in the stirrup of Bree’s hand, she lifted her other leg back and leaned forward spreading her arms like she was an airplane. Despite being a bit on the rotund side, Sophie had a dancer’s balance. She was downright swan-like compared to Bree, who blundered into something or tripped over her own feet at least three times a day. Sophie made ‘woosh’ and ‘zoom’ noises like an old-time RAF Spitfire as they turned each corner or circled back after reaching a dead end.
After a couple of minutes playing, Sophie signaled to put her down. Bree whipped her hand out from under Sophie’s foot and then caught her under the armpits as the larger, heavier girl squealed in surprise. Sophie laughed long and hard while Bree pulled the presumed source of her new powers out of her fanny pack.
Bree carefully unwrapped the old newspaper she’d cushioned the nugget in, needing to gaze at it again. No way were a couple of thugs ever gonna get their hands on this treasure! It glinted oddly in the half-light of the alleyway. An oil-slick rainbow lurked under the rough surface.
Finally, she announced, “Ok, we’ve gotta show Sylvia this thing. Maybe she can figure it out.” It certainly seemed like something right out of the comic book movies that were so popular now. Those were full of magic rocks, Right? ‘Infinity Gems’ or something?
Sophie gestured she wanted to look at it again and Bree passed the precious metal over. Still giddy from her plane-ride she chirped, “You are so strong! Lifting me one-handed, and I’m not exactly svelte…” the chunky college student admitted with a sigh as she turned the nugget over in her hands and watching how it sparkled.
Bree snorted. Sophie probably could have weighed as much as seventeen bull elephants and it wouldn’t have made a difference.
“I mean it’s great that you got mega-strong just when you really needed it.” She went on wistfully, “But honestly? I just want to lose a few pounds...” In her head, she saw the pounds sliding off her, finally one of the slender girls, the popular girls. No! It was more than that. She wanted to be pretty. A real boy magnet. The nugget thrummed in her hand. In her imagination, the post-wish Sophie looked something like Taylor Swift's super-hot younger sister. Only with her own red hair, ‘cause her hair was actually pretty great. The rest though? Swap it all out for world-class beautiful. She could see it so clearly… her true wish.
One that would never come true. Who was she kidding? She dieted and worked out, but she just didn’t have the genes. She was never going to have that hourglass figure and elfin jawline. Or the willpower to say ‘no’ to chocolate chip cookies. Or cake. Or candy bars.
Sophie felt a sort of cozy warmth spreading through her body and saw Bree’s eyes getting wider and wider looking up at her. What she didn’t catch was Bree’s head rocking back to track her as Sophie’s head rose, quite a bit more than her sandal-clad feet going up on tip-toe would account for.
“What? Did I get snagged on something and now my butt’s hanging out?” She turned to look back at her butt. Still obnoxiously big. But kind of cuter than she expected. Maybe perkier than most days. Bree was still staring.
“Stop with the googly eyes already…” Sophie shimmied her whole body self-consciously. Coupled with her new curves, the effect was mesmerizing.
Bree flopped back, making a bench out of a stack of loose wooden palettes while still looking up at Sophie with voiceless awe.
“Ok, Bree. Now you’re freaking me out.” Sophie pleaded, even her voice taking on a more musical lilt.
Bree worked her mouth a few times like a goldfish out of the water, then finally “Look at YOU!!”
One side of Sophie’s now almost painfully gorgeous face quirked up in a huge ‘huh?’ expression. ‘The hell was Bree on about? She spied a parked delivery truck just down the alley and went to look in the big side mirror.
Bree saw her friend (now as sleek and refined as one of the elf-maidens from the Lord of the Rings movies) taking those dozen steps with a casually sexy stride. It wasn’t walking – no, with that sexy strut and those long, long legs you had to say Sophie ‘sashayed’ over to the truck. Then she heard Sophie squeal, “OH YEESSSS!!” The words trailed off into a scream of absolute delight. Sophie’d had sort of a vague notion of being pretty, but what was looking back at her was heart-stoppingly gorgeous.
Bree found her way back to her feet, still a little dazed by Sophie’s metamorphosis. Seeing Sophie’s body shimmer and flow like water until she became a super-starlet was totally unexpected. As far as she could tell, her own looks had barely changed at all when the nugget did its thing to her.
She softly laid a hand over her roomie’s still shrieking mouth. She also gently plucked the nugget out of Sophie’s slack hands before she dropped it down a sewer drain or something. If they lost it before showing it to Sylvia … That would be a rotten, unfair end to the best day ever.
As the breathtakingly beautiful redhead stilled in her grip, Bree said with a smirk “Well… I’d say it worked. Finally.” Bree momentarily considered being jealous, but her heart wasn’t in it. Even if the nugget hadn’t turned her into some kind of Ginger Venus, she’d gotten a great deal. Her one wish had been simple and imperative: “I don’t wanna die!” Everything after that was just gravy. She’d imagined being stronger and had gotten absurdly stronger. Like she'd been hit with the same wish multiple times until the orginal intent was completely overshadowed by the results. The nugget was almost too powerful, it seemed.
Sophie nodded, dumbfounded. Bree slowly took her hand away, not certain Sophie had screamed herself out yet. With that face, that body, she was probably entitled to a few more hours of squeaking in shocked delight. Like Bree, she was set for life in her own way.
Sophie twirled slowly, examining her slender-yet-aggressively-curvaceous body from all angles. “I’m. So. Pretty!!” Everything she’d imagined only ten times better. It wasn’t just what she’d wished for - it was massive overkill. Like the genie has decided instead of three wishes, she'd get the same wish three times in a row. "You want to be far more beautiful? Granted. Grented. Granted!" Men would fucking melt when she came into a room. The smile that burst forth from her full lips could launch at least a thousand ships.
“I guess you have to know what you really want…?” Sophie breathed, still unable to take her eyes off the face in the mirror. It was like a dream. She was SOOO SEXY. Unaffected by her metamorphosis, her school clothes were several sizes too large now… Well, everywhere except her bustline and butt. But that just added to her appeal, like a girl dressing up in her boyfriend’s shirts, able to wreck every one of his buttons just by stretching her arms back. Minds would literally boggle at the sight of the mouth-wateringly hot redhead.
Bree chuckled. “Well if you only get one wish, that’s a good one. Guess maybe I should have wished for more than just strength. You just wanted to ‘lose some weight’, right?”
Sophie blushed at how shallow it sounded when said out loud. The rush of pink across her innocent face it was adorable. Bree felt her knees going weak again. She might be super strong, but Sophie had become super-duper cute. Then Sophie flashed her a killer smile, her confidence in her new power growing.
Bree started to wrap the nugget up. She wasn’t even sure what the stuff was. The little yellowed-paper sample tag in the box had only said “Fictionite ~ .98 pure” in a kind of elegant handwritten script you never saw anymore. “Fictionite…” she breathed. She’d tried to Google it while waiting for Sophie at the diner but hadn’t found anything.
Sophie’s perfect brow wrinkled in concentration. “If you still want to show Sylvia your rock, I think we’d better hurry. She’s going to a party or something tonight. Either we catch her before she leaves the flat or we’re waiting until tomorrow. You think you could use the thing to, um, get ‘run faster’ powers? You know, like the red guy?”
“Superspeed” Bree corrected, just about exhausting her own stock of geek lore. “I don’t think that’s how it works… but I suppose I can try.” Almost as soon as she’d put the stacks right in the museum basement she’d tried to use the nugget again but nothing. Nada. Zip.
She clasped the nugget directly in her fingers and suddenly realized how ridiculous Sophie must have felt sitting in the diner trying to make this work on nothing but Bree’s say so. Winding a fork around her finger hadn’t been a really convincing display of strength but it had been all she’d been able to come up with that wouldn’t send the rest of the patrons screaming for the door.
The two times it had worked, neither of them had said anything, they’d just wanted it. So she tried wanting superspeed … ‘Faster. Faster. I want to be faster …’ she thought hard as she could.
She squinched her eyes shut and focused.
Nothing happened some more.
“I got nuttin’” Bree declared. There was this feeling, a tiny flicker of warmth when it was working. Stuck in the crushing dark of the overturned shelves, she’d felt it: energy crawling up her fingers and flowing into her muscles. If she hadn’t been so terrified she might even have enjoyed it. It was kind of sensual, feeling your body become something… more.
She hadn’t even seen the nugget at first. When the old exhibit racks went over on her, she’d been pushed down into a little cranny. Her hand had been coincidentally crammed into the old wooden box the nugget had been tucked away in. Geological samples from who the hell knew where. Records could be sketchy on the old pre-digital properties. She’d panicked - wanting nothing more than to be out from under the pile! A warmth had flowed into her and she’d gotten stronger and stronger (and STRONGER!!) until she didn’t just push the heap off herself, she’d exploded out of the tumble of samples, boxes and creepy taxidermy animals. She’d shrugged off tons of dusty displays like shedding a ratty old coat.
“Let me try?” Sophie asked permission, still thinking of the nugget as very much Bree’s.
“Sure!” She passed it over without hesitation.
Sophie had a super cute ‘I’m concentrating’ look again. Bree was still shocked by how great she looked. To her, her ginger roomie looked something like Scarlett Johansson’s hotter younger sister. You hear men and women being described as ‘striking’, but gazing at Sophie was like being hit on the head with a brick.
More nothing happened.
“Maybe it’s out of juice?” Sophie wondered.
“I think maybe it only gives you one wish.” Bree countered.
“Hmm.” Sophie looked thoughtfully adorable or maybe adorably thoughtful. “If so, we’d better warn Sylvia before she has her turn. Tell her to ‘choose wisely’ before she touches it. Maybe she can pick superspeed!” Sophie grinned, quickly getting into the spirit of the best day ever now that she’d be blessed too.
“I dunno. The swim team won’t stand a chance against the Sylvie Streak…” They laughed. As school scandals went, their roommate’s shyly obsessive stalking had been pretty funny.
Bree still wondered. ‘What would Sylvia wish for?’ Then Bree smirked. How about the ability to see through walls… and pants.
“Well, we’d better hurry.” Sophie reminded her, seeing Bree deep in recollection. They’d lost valuable time getting nothing to happen.
“Yep, yep!” Bree agreed and the pair ran at quite ordinary speeds for the bus stop. Having used up more than a day’s worth of luck already, they just missed the big red bus.
...But one look in the mirror at the supermodel waving to him from the last stop and the driver backed up most of a block to let them board. Sophie's new superpower at work.
Covert and not so subtle stares followed them all the way home. Dozens of pairs of eyes locked on Sophie: the hands-down hottest girl any of the other passengers had ever seen. Bree didn’t mind her invisibility. She’d become crazy-strong. In the long run, that was easily going to be as much fun as Sophie’s crazy-cute. She’d handled those thugs earlier like shooing away flies. Bree wondered again what kind of crazy Sylvia would wish for.
This stupid costume was driving her crazy. Boots and gloves, cape and wig. All the accessories had come together beautifully. All very doable. It was the leotard, the centerpiece of the whole creation that was killing her. If she ever did get it seated right she’d have to try not to breathe the whole ride over to the gala.
She’d tailored every seam and panel of the white garment until it was perfect, the daring keyhole opening reinforced so there would be no wardrobe malfunctions… But the sheer amount of padding you needed to present the bustline… One errant breath and she’d go from artfully framed cleavage to being revealed as a cheap bodice-stuffer.
Putting it on made Sylvia feel like the sexiest, most powerful woman ever. The tight ‘alien’ fabric with a chainmail pattern printed on it in silicone was the new gold standard in DC Cinematic Universe costumes. She'd paid dearly for a bolt of the stuff. The feel of it wrapping around her body let her lose herself in imagining she was a sexy alien powerhouse. Loaded with so much sex appeal the whole school swim team would lie awake at night wishing they’d pressed their deliciously muscled (but utterly feeble compared to her!) bodies against her when she'd given them the chance. Their loss, now.
Her cosplay was perfect - it was her mortal body that betrayed her. Nothing human could ever live up to the measurements of the woman, no, the supreme being she was trying to portray. Hell, Jessica Rabbit would be hard pressed to deliver that curvaceous silhouette. She was going to have to redo the padding from scratch. Maybe glue them in this time!
Come hell or high water, Sylvia Shannon WAS going to be sporting the most powerful rack in cosplay tonight. She couldn’t wait to flaunt some ‘super-boobies’ right in a couple of her rivals’ faces. Gina had actually called her stitching rubbish. Gina of all people! ‘That sow couldn’t sew if her life depended on it,’ Sylvia groused for the umteenth time. No amount of natural good looks could cover that sin. Gina bought her costumes. It was repulsive.
She heard a key slide into the front door even as she was peeling out the failed foam padding. Which was a little strange: her roomie-landlord Bree should still be at her museum internship on a Friday afternoon and Sophie almost never cut classes. The two British girls were just so serious. She shrugged and then cursed, the leotard slipping again. Dammit! More spirit gum! This would be so much easier if she had the body for it. ‘But damn, what a body that would take!’ she thought, imagining herself having all the curves and all the superpowers too! “No mere college student can fill these clothes. Wearing this costume looks like a job for Suuu-per Sylvia!” she whispered to the mirror.
She lifted her arms in a double bicep curl and pushed her shoulders back, envisioning two battleship class cannons jutting out from her chest even if she could never have it. The ultimate comic-book titties. Bigger even than the costume hand been tailored for. Milky cantaloupes of soft, sensitive flesh. Something truly more than human.
The empty cups still slumped over her chest like deflated volleyballs.
Yeah. She knew she was far from being a superbabe, but that’s what made cosplay fun - being what you wanted to be instead of who you were. Tonight she wanted to be POWER GIRL!
The bolt turned and the front door creaked open. “Who’s there?” Sylvia called out from her room, her door half open. Originally from California, her accent was a source of unending amusement for the other two. She sounded like she’d just stepped out of the American action movies she kept dragging them off to see.
“We both are.” Sophie’s voice announced cheerfully. She sounded… different? There was something odd (and surprisingly sexy) in her lilt. Just hearing it made Sylvia horny. Hornier, technically. Horny was kind of her natural state.
“We’ve got something to show you…” The normally quite serious Bree sounded uncharacteristically giddy. Oh no… Had her flatmates brought home a puppy or something? Sylvia stood up, still glowering at her flat chest in her mirror, the GGG-cup shapes she’d worked into the bodice hanging limp and lifeless over her real b-cups. She had another hour before she had to leave. Enough time to carve and trim out a new pair of bowling-ball-sized spheres from her stock of the heavy, supple foam that always made her think of the time she'd gotten to pet a dolphin. She was shaving it close, though. Pun unintended.
In the shared living room, Bree and Sophie were only half-successfully suppressing their giggles. Sylvia was going to totally geek out when they showed her how amazing they’d become. Bree was already eyeing her couch as something she could lift overhead to make Sylvia’s eyes bug out. Much more impressive than bending silverware. Super strength and super beauty. Their resident nerdette was going to be hard-pressed to catch up.
The plan drawn up in hushed whispers on the bus ride home was to show off a little after revealing the source of their good fortune. They'd lay out what Bree'd guessed about the nugget's powers: that it seemed like you only got one shot so make it count!
"Maybe she’d want to be able to turn invisible?! Was that even possible?" Bree had wondered on the way home. That would be handy if Sophie wanted to renew her pursuit of the swim team! Slipping into the living room, she half-unwrapped the pearly mass. It was the essential prop for the crazy story they were about to tell. “Come on out,” Bree called. They could hear Sylvia rustling in her room. Bree strode forward to meet her halfway.
Ever the klutz, Bree stepped awkwardly on a treacherous hand-weight left in the middle of the walkway. She stumbled, almost twisting her ankle, and the nugget flew out of her hands. It hit hardwood floor with a clatter and slid almost directly in front of Sylvia’s half-open door. Bree paused to turn her wrath on the offending exercise equipment. ‘Screw picking up the sofa!' she seethed. "How about I tie this stupid thing into a knot instead!" she growled.
Attracted by the scraping-sliding sound of the fictionite, Sylvia came barefoot to the threshold of her room. Her head and shoulders swung into view as she knelt down and reached out to collect the errant knick-knack.
As Bree mangled the stupid hand weight that had attacked her, Sophie peered over her shoulder. It looked like Sylvia had one of her cosplay outfits on. Or maybe it was a swimsuit. ‘Was the event she was going to tonight a costume party?’ she wondered.
“What’s this?” the skinny cosplayer asked, leaning forward, her hand reaching out. It sparkled against the wooden floor. “It's pretty…”
Bree looked up from the iron pretzel she was making, eyes going wide. “No. Wait! Don’t touch it!” If she only got one wish Bree didn’t want it to be something boring…
Sylvia’s fingers closed in on the glinting metal.
‘No! She could be thinking of anything!’ Bree thought in a panic. ‘What if she wishes for a something silly? Like a taco?’ With the nugget’s propensity for massively overdoing things, her geeky roommate would probably end up buried in tacos. Or maybe just one furniture-sized taco would appear? Suddenly Bree burst into laughter, imagining tacos filling the flat! ‘Well, I guess we wouldn’t have to cook dinner!’ she thought.
Bending over caused Sylvia’s ultra-buxom leotard to flop and drag again. She heard Bree laughing and growled. She knew she looked silly without the pads in but damn, that was just mean. Again she visualized herself as the all-powerful Super Sylvia, her majestic silhouette silencing all such laughter forever.
Scooping up Bree’s trinket, she swore under her breath “I wish I had the body this costume deserves.”
There should have been a flash of light. A peal of thunder. Something dramatic. Maybe the sound of a huge tree trunk snapping off in a hurricane. Because Sylvia had just broken the world. Bree had been right that their roommate would figure out the puzzle of making the nugget work: at the moment the costumed co-ed’s hand closed firmly around the lump of fictionite, her only desire was to have what it takes to fill out her Power Girl costume properly.
“Properly” in this case being defined as 'Pornagraphic Kryptonian Bombshell'.
That was all the cue the fictionite needed. It immediately set out to fulfill her utterly outlandish wish, perhaps better rephrased as, "improve me so much I have powers on the level of Superman and a super-sexy body to match!" Except that like Bree’s and Sophie’s wishes, those simple instructions would be amplified to terrifying extremes before the nugget was finished.
While Bree mastered the last of her giggles at the possibility of a spontaneous Mexican buffet arriving, Sophie vaguely recognized the white costume Sylvia was wearing. ‘Wasn't that supposed to be Superman’s sister or something?’ No, that was Supergirl, who also dressed in blue and red like he did. The one with the white outfit was rather... more… Developed.
“Oh, niiiiice...” Sophie whispered, her breath catching and her nipples suddenly stiffening. Bree's transformation had seemed amazingly sexy to Sophie – even more so than her own – but if Sylvia got the nugget to deliver on that particular fantasy their boy-crazy roomie wasn’t about to ‘catch up’ to her or Bree... Sylvia's transformation would blow theirs completely away!
So, what exactly did Sylvia want? No more foam padding for starters. There should be nothing under her outfit but the big beautiful curves of Super Sylvia: the sexiest, smartest, most powerful college student in the DC Universe! Naturally, Sylvia's head-canon for ‘the Kryptonian coed’ included all the boundless superpowers that were the birthright of any of Planet Krypton survivors. Was that too much to wish for?
The white metal heating up in her hand didn’t seem to think so. It had gone from merely warm to as hot as a rock in the desert sun in response to the impossible gauntlet thrown down before it. A smaller piece might have dissolved into nothingness making the attempt but this chunk was positively enormous.
Wreckage from a 14th-dimensional spaceship? Tears of an eldritch god? No one knew the origins of fictionite. Rare beyond price and even more rarely recognized before it consumed itself reshaping time and space. The substance responded to pure desire, translating daydreams and idle fancies into tangible fact. Mistaken for ordinary silver, fictionite had been alloyed into ‘genie’ lamps and mixed into common coins pitched into wishing wells for thousands of years. It was the grain of truth behind countless tales. The purer the fictionite, the more exaggerated the results - and the more dangerous. Legends spawned by the substance also spoke of wishes taken to extremes; dreams turning into nightmares. Even the most innocent desires held the potential to mutate into a dreadful fictionite-inflicted curse. The purest flakes of the metal had been responsible for endless variations on the ‘Tale of the Monkey’s Paw’. A whole string of cautionary tales with a single moral:
"Be careful what you wish for…"
Once triggered, fictionite ripped and spindled the laws of physics like a kitten with a ball of yarn but it was still subject to rules of its own. The Law of Unintended Consequences grew razor sharp teeth when Reality disagreed with any wish-created inconsistencies. Worse, there were no take-backs, time and space being annealed against further tampering by the process. Even using another piece of fictionite there was no wishing "I wish I hadn't wished that!". The only bargain the metal ever offered was ‘enjoy the ride or die’. Whatever the destination, Sylvia was on a one-way trip.
Sylvia stood back up, now fully visible in her gorgeous but ill-fitting Power Girl outfit. She looked curiously at the still chuckling Bree, wondering again why she was home early. Then she caught a glimpse of the new Sophie, so gratuitously beautiful she was all but unrecognizable. Sylvia’s bony knees came together and squirmed slightly just looking at the staggeringly gorgeous young woman in her flat. Sophie’s fictionite-perfected face and body were a masters course in how super-sexy was done. She was so striking that the image of the ideal Kryptonian hottie in Sylvia’s brain immediately plagiarized the highlights from Sophie’s wish.
Because ‘Super Sylvia’ had to be much, much hotter than THAT, obviously.
“Hey, Bree! Who’s your new friend? And where’d Soph- Hhhhhuuuh?” Sylvia’s head snapped to the left then the right, burying her chin in her shoulder as a wave of indescribably sensuous warmth washed over her. Her skin… it felt alien but so alive! More than that, her nipples were suddenly devastatingly sensitive! She bit her lower lip to stifle the shriek of pleasure growing inside her.
The fictionite was practically sizzling now. That scalding warmth went ignored as a far greater heat bloomed inside Sylvia’s breasts, the origin point for all her fantasizing. Eyes closed, her chin lifted towards the ceiling even as the feelings inside drove her to stand up on tippy-toe. She felt like she was on the verge of an orgasm that would make all the previous moments of sexual ecstasy in her young life seem about as exciting as a stack of scratchy gray wool sweaters you couldn’t return to the store because they were Just. Too. Dull.
Sylvia’s right hand went back to touch her hair, unconsciously assuming a classic pin-up pose that made Bree and Sophie’s breath catch in their chests. They could see her head rising minutely higher, her whole figure subtly stretching and hinting at the tall, voluptuous, and mighty creature about to emerge from Sylvia’s deepest erotic fantasies.
“Ohhh… Something's happening to me,” she declared in drowsy alarm. “There's a pressure… inside...” She felt like she was about to explode, and not necessarily in a good way. “It hurts…” The forces building inside her chest made Sylvia suddenly worry she was about to pull an ‘Alien chestburster’ scene right there in the living room.
Bree dropped the knotted dumbbell in horror. What had she done!? Was the nugget going to kill Sylvie? What could her roomie have been thinking when she picked it up?
“Oh-oh! I’m gonna POP!” Sylvie was nearly crying now. She shut her eyes and bit her lip. Every muscle in her body clenched, she threw her head and fists back, arching her spine as she tried to force the whatever it was it out of her chest! Bree and Sophie hadn't experienced any discomfort from their wishes, but then again, neither of them had wished to be turned into a whole different (and wholly imaginary!) species.
Bree and Sophie’s eyes went wide in complete astonishment: instead of ‘popping’, their contorting roommate’s slender bosom abruptly ballooned to the size of prize-winning cabbages. Even shaped and tailored to contain triple-G-cup foam falsies, the garment was unprepared for the flood. The eruption of girlflesh seemed endless as Sylvia just kept growing! Rounded breasts filled and then overfilled the white fabric cups until the flank seams threatened to tear wide open as Sylvia gained twenty cup sizes in one glorious outburst.
Sophie whimpered, a hand coming up to unconsciously confirm her own vastly inferior heft. Sylvia’s ‘popping’ was the hottest thing she had ever imagined. Even hotter than if it had happened to her. And it was only the beginning of her roommate becoming a comic book character brought to life! Sophie was sure of it.
“OOHHH! Better.” Sylvia grunted in relief, the worst of the pressure inside gone. Before she could even open her eyes she lost her balance and fell over backward. She winced at the sound of her skull cracking against the wall but strangely she experienced no pain as she slid down it to the floor. She landed ass first with a thump, her bare legs splayed before her and inadvertently giving her roomies quite a view of the inner flanks of her white-clad crotch from across the room.
Sylvia looked down the length of her own body, trying to get her bearings. The other two women in the flat were neatly framed by her splayed knees and some truly mountainous cleavage filling the keyhole opening of her leotard… Huge masses of creamy-white flesh that moved up and down in time with her own shaky breathing…
‘No… Those couldn’t be ME?' she mused. Still unbelieving, Sylvia shimmied her torso and watched the living mountain range sway and bounce. She must have whacked her head harder than she thought. She had to be hallucinating because she’d been fantasizing about pretty much exactly that view all afternoon: what it would look like if she really had Power Girl's tits!
Still unbelieving, Sylvia lifted her arms and flexed like she had in front of the mirror, the pale globes rising and spreading in answer to the shifting of her pectoral muscles. The white mountains stood straight out from her ribcage, quite uninterested in compressing under the influence of puny gravity.
“Holy shit… I’m HUGE!” she announced in wonder. Her new sweater-beasts were REAL. She had the biggest of the big guns. And these ‘Guns’ were loaded with armor-piercing ammo! The material she’d used for her costume was visibly beginning to fray over her rather more than just ‘rock hard’ nipples.
“Oh fuck, YES.” She whispered, then gasped through clenched teeth. Her not-so-little nipples felt more vivid than the rest of her entire body combined as they chewed into the tight weave like industrial diamond drill bits. She could feel the rasping of each thread in exquisite detail as what should have been one of her softest parts shredded the tough fibers. She was lost in the vast landscapes of texture that seemed as big as beanbags but were in reality no bigger than the tip of her finger. An incongruity that was equal parts disorienting and fucking amazing! She started to shake like a drug addict: her brain wasn’t wired for such heights of pleasure.
And it was getting better/worse. She’d unwittingly wished for super-senses on par with Superman himself and like it or not she was getting the whole body package. Eyes so powerful that they’d put both telescopes and microscopes to shame and hearing so sharp she’d pick out her name being whispered from twenty miles away were just the start. Sylvia’s soft skin was also being refashioned with super-womanly levels of sensitivity. And with sensitivity came arousal. The flood of sensations quickly spread from her nipples until the entire globe of each breast was 'transmitting' the sensuously erotic hyper-awareness.
“Ohhhhhh… my...” Sylvia graduated from the shakes to outright convulsing, a pleasure-junkie overdosing on herself.
“Sylvie!!” Bree cried out in alarm, seeing her thrashing and still not recognizing the significance of her pale outfit. Bree rushed to her side. “Are you... are you ok? Sylvie!?” What had she done? Sylvia’s boobs had blown up like balloons! And while they were very nice breasts (ok, they were incredible!), she could also see Sylvia squirming under them like they were crushing her.
Sylvia was fading in and out of consciousness when the whole experience snapped into crystalline clarity. The waves of change stroked the gray matter in her skull, finally giving her the capacity to process the flood-tide. The monkey paw's offer to kill her with too much pleasure rescinded at the last second only by the grace of her comprehensive uberness. Sylvia's increasingly Kryptonian brain was gifted with an incredible knowing, simultaneously comprehending every stitch and seam in microscopic detail. As serene as a goddess looking down from the clouds, she bore witness to an epic battle as the taut fabric of her leotard stretched and pulled across her bustline, straining to contain her melon-sized melons.
It was a battle any earthly substance was destined to lose. Given the right angle and pressure, her perky nipples would tear strips out of titanium battle armor as easily as opening an envelope. Sylvia now reveled in the touch of every individual thread caressing the huge globes of her soft breast-flesh. The rest of her body felt limp and numb by comparison. She bit her lip, stifling another moan. 'It all feels SO GOOD! Like I’m some kind of Supergirl…'
Bree knelt beside the fallen girl now. “I’m so sorry! I think it grants wishes,” She was babbling. “Fictionite! I was gonna tell you, but then I slipped. You picked it up and...”She paused. She tried to pry the nugget out of Sylvia's hand like she had with Sophie, but couldn't. Sylvia was clinging to it with a death grip like she'd grabbed a live electrical wire and couldn’t let go. So instead she helped Sylvia sit up despite the masses on her chest.
"Fictia-what?" Sylvia mumbled, glancing vacantly at Bree as Sophie passed her a glass of cool tap water. She took a sip and then looked down again. "POP!" She announced with a giggle then frowned as she looked further down her own length. Her new mounds might feel unbelievably good, but aesthetically speaking they looked ridiculous on her. Totally out of proportion on her tragically ordinary frame. As bad as duct-taping bowling balls on a broomstick. And while they weren’t exactly heavy, they were… solid. Unreasonably dense for something so soft and springy and — she moaned again — so very, very sensitive. She’d probably look like a drunk if she tried to walk, stumbling around completely top-heavy.
Sylvia lifted her head and unintentionally shot Bree the most sultry bedroom eyes Bree had ever seen over her new bustline. “Wishes? What are you talking about? What the heck happened to me?” She asked, still sounding dazed.
Wishes? Impossible. Was she going insane? Then it clicked: If she HAD made a wish, then her new lady bumps weren’t just impossibly firm and massive… Somehow she’d grown a pair of 100% genuine Power Girl breasts. The perfect way to fill out her costume! Oh, Gina was in trouble now, because Sylvia Shannon was sportin' authentic Super-Boobies and her costumes would never slip off of a flat chest again!
Looking at Sylvia, Bree belatedly realized how dangerous the silvery lump was and how lucky she and Sophie had been. She might just as easily have thought a mouse could slip through the wreckage she was trapped in and that could have been the end of her. Poof: rodent for life. The mousey-est mouse ever. Now Sylvia was stuck with some kind of gargantuan boob-job and it was all — well mostly — her fault. Not nearly the results she’d been hoping for her friend to come away with. She’d secretly wanted to see Sylvia have another go at the men’s swim team, only with powers this time.
“I know… It sounds impossible but it’s true. You’re ok though, right?” Bree repeated, for maybe the third time, still distraught at the idea of Sylvia’s only wish turning her into a big-breasted freak. Why did she have to be such a klutz? Why hadn’t she warned Sylvia sooner?
“I’m... Ok. I feel a little ridiculous. But Bree…” She sighed again in deepest pleasure. “You can’t imagine how good these feel right now.” Sylvia rolled her shoulders, making her new mounds bounce again to illustrate the point. She smiled softly, recalling the vivid flash of imagination she’d had when she first picked up the nugget. Her Kryptonian self: who just happened to have all the best attributes of an Olympic gold-medal gymnast crossed with an alien porn star. What would that be like? She'd be infinitely strong, her every movement graceful and powerful beyond belief. These lovely cannonballs would never look right without the complete package. The athletic build coupled to the wasp waist and gargantuan hips that would make the girl-pumpkins on her chest seem almost tame. ‘Oh, yeah. They’d look great on me then. Especially with a matching Power Girl ass...’ She thought, only to be shaken out of her reverie by Bree’s insistent questioning.
“Sylvia? This is important. What were you thinking when you picked it up? What were you imagining?” Bree was deeply worried but simultaneously hoping that her roomie wouldn’t be too pissed when she found out she and Sophie had gotten superpowers while all Sylvia received was an overblown boob job.
Sylvia blinked a few times, still taking stock. “I- I don’t know? But really, Bree, it's ok. Kind of wonderful, actually.” she started to explain there was more to her new breasts than just prodigious size before trailing off, one eyebrow rising quizzically. The feeling of a rising pressure inside her was back.
Almost forgotten after her long silence, Sophie burst into nearly hysterical laughter, startling them both. She'd remembered a bit more about the character Sylvia had been cosplaying as. She straddled Sylvia's legs, brazenly invading her space. Sylvia shivered in pleasure when the gorgeous woman on top of her leaned in to grind chest-to-chest with her. "I’m pretty sure she was thinking about being Supergirl’s sexier twin.” the supermodel with Sophie's voice summed it up nicely.
Tiny chuffs of pleasure escaped Sylvia's lips as her belly clenched spasmodically in response to Sophie's nuzzling. So she might be forgiven for being momentarily distracted from the fact the pressure in her chest was back with a vengeance, filling her near to bursting again. But only for a moment.
"Uuhhh...! There’s mooooorrree???” Sylvia's astonished words stretched out into a squeal of pleasure and a return to her previous thrashing.
The sudden clenching of Sylvie's legs launched Sophie more than halfway across the room like drop kicking a plushie. Sophie landed lightly on her feet, touching down like a gymnast and discovering she had cat-like grace beyond anything she'd ever managed before. Another happy byproduct of her desires being over-fulfilled. The nugget was like that. Her broad smirk said she didn't mind Sylvia playing a little rough: it was just more proof she'd been right! There was definitely 'more' in store for Sylvia and she was gonna get to see it all happen!
Still clutched in her hand, the world-bending energies from the metal had never stopped flowing up Sylvia’s arm and into every atom in her body. Quietly building up the monumental charge needed to create the precisely envisioned 'pornographic Kryptonian bombshell' in Sylvia's fantasies. While Bree had fretted over her the forces built up to the critical threshold like a crossbow being cranked back. Drawing the arrow of destiny that once loosed would re-mold every inch of the young woman’s entire body into Power Girl levels of raw sex appeal. And when it happened to her again... and again...
Pure fictionite had turned her roommates’ modest desires into superpowers. Doubling up on the changes needed to create a ‘Super Sylvia!’ out of Sylvia wasn't going to leave her twice as powerful as the Man of Steel... It would mean Sylvia was on her way to being as 'Super' to Superman as he was to ordinary people. Kryptonian-Squared. Possibly Cubed.
Feeling her whole body about to 'pop', Sylvia crooned happily… Or meant to at least. Syvia's roommates, the rest of the building, and indeed the whole neighborhood were about to find out what happens when a sexually frustrated 20-year-old gets a little too super.
“oh-? Ooooohhhh…!” What she’d intended as a sultry bedroom whisper came out as a sexy roar that simultaneously knocked Bree and Sophie the rest of the way to the walls and set their female bodies trembling with sympathetic arousal. Just hearing Sylvia’s super-sensuous cries of pleasure had them both moist and panting in animal heat. Her softest voice had been amplified enough to fill a stadium as her no-longer-human lungs unleashed the first hints of the catastrophic power that would soon be hers. The sensations of better-than-sex tactile awareness her breasts enjoyed oozed across her whole torso. The tight fabric still clinging to her and the carpet beneath her ass cheeks tickled like a hundred lovers with a hundred feathers each.
“Oh ya… ya… YA! Uuuuuhhhh!” She rattled the window with another amplified moan of super-feminine pleasure and people passing by on the street below began discretely groping themselves. No man’s frenzied thrusting, no secret masturbation in Sylvia's life had ever aroused her passion like the mere scrap of cloth clinging to her body did now!
Sylvia squirmed on the floor like a happy puppy, already on the verge of climaxing as the rising tide of her enhanced skin reached her loins. “Oh my— oh? OH!! It’s too much! Too—” She protested as the transformation washed over her private spaces. The waves plunged into her vagina, leaving behind layers of smooth moist muscle tougher than steel, stronger than an industrial press, and more delicately precise than a world-renowned flutist. The things she could do to any cock now placed in her care... Well, let's just say sex with her would be a life-altering experience. But Sylvia's partners weren't the only ones about to enjoy her sexual antics a little more than before. Echoing the flourishing growth of her pinball-sized nipples, Sylvia's tiny clit swelled to the size of a very expensive pearl while the dial on her rewired erogenous response got turned up to levels that would make even Superman feel inadequate by comparison.
“Too… hhuhhh… MUCH!!” Sylvia cried out, finding herself uncontrollably cumming like nothing she could even describe. Other than maybe as fifty-two times more intensely mind-melting than anything she had ever felt before. She’d daydreamed about being super… but she’d never really worked out all the consequences of Really. Being. Super. THIS right here was the shit that happens when your skin is responsive on par with a pair of crystal-blue eyes that could read newsprint on the surface of the fucking Moon.
The Law of Unintended Consequences whispered in her ear, "Well, dear, obviously your little super-brain must have evolved the capacity to experience - and I suppose enjoy - all this input in every detail. You're welcome."
“Yaaaahh, Fuuuuuck...” She nearly screamed as the silken fabric of her leotard dragged back and forth over the engorged nub in time with her breath, the delicate satin scraping her clit with the intensity of a diamond-toothed chainsaw. Then realization struck her: ‘oh yeah! Real supergirls be super-cumming!’ She suspected this tidal wave of pleasure she was surfing might just be the new minimum standard of sexual release for her from now on.
‘More than fifty times your best lay ever, you say? Yeah, that's just a perfectly ordinary Supergirl orgasm. Technically a K-gasm, for all you Earth-ladies who will never know how good this feels...’ She mentally deadpanned, fooling no one. She'd gone nearly blind with bliss and that was after the upgrades to her brain! Sylvia could have madly screwed and been screwed by every guy on the entire swim team at the same time for hours in a giant poolside orgy and it still would have paled in comparison to what was happening to her now. And she hadn't even touched herself yet! something she meant to rectify immediately. Her right hand plunged between her legs, tickling the crown jewel of pleasure set between her thick, moist pussy lips.
“FU-FU-FUCK!” This time the stuttering barks of her ecstasy didn’t just shake the house… The whole building heaved and swayed in time with her clenching buttocks. What she’d thought would be a brief explosion between her legs proved to instead be a burning yellow-sun that kept on shining in her brain. Sylvia was quickly discovering a key difference between Human and Superman sex: while any woman would have been flattened by what had just rocked her world, Sylvia still felt as fresh as a flower. And rather than being drained by fatigue, she was growing even more aroused! She might never get tired during a little non-stop off-the-charts sex.
Yup. That possibility pushed her right off the edge of the cliff: Sylvia K-gasmed a second time. Then a third, with a fourth already building...
Sophie watched it all in rapture, her hands helplessly rising to fondle the lovely curves of her own miraculously transformed body. ‘If the nugget can do that,’ she thought, filled with awe, ‘I should have read more comics!’ She stared at Sylvia’s jiggling breasts, the rigid nipples having finally escaped the confines of the white costume as the big hole in the front was stretched open by her increasingly urgent thrashing. Her long creamy thighs were spreading and slamming shut with more momentum than a bank vault door. Sylvia's gyrations had pulled the bottom of her leotard up into her cleft, and each time she spread her legs it revealed a quick glimpse of the smooth, firm swell of her vaginal lips. Sylvia spread her knees again and her questing fingers finally snapped the bottom of her leotard, revealing the glistening pink pearl of the biggest clitoris Sophie’d ever seen. No wonder the girl was moaning like that!
She wanted to throw herself on Sylvia and join the fun. She ached to put her own new assets to work, rubbing her big nipples against Sylvia’s even bigger ones and then turning 69 to tongue fuck the pale angel-girl right out of her shivering mind. ‘God, that monster clit,’ she thought. It was going to be so easy to make Sylvia cum for her!
But even lost in a haze of her own need, Sophie didn’t dare come between those mighty legs or even approach her roommate. Sylvia's thrashing would cut her in half and she'd never even notice. 'But maybe soon. Oh, God, soon...' Sophie promised herself.
The floor creaked and groaned under Sophie. The waves of change had reached her toes, and the petite cosplayer's whole body was growing now. The Kryptonian Coed was destined to tower over most other women like she'd been reborn as the Amazon Goddess of Porn. It tickled too. There was a pleasure in swelling up, of growing faster than bamboo, the feeling as each inch of height was added to her frame was exquisite beyond words. She’d had that one really good growth spurt as a teenager - put on two inches of height over four months. She’d never forgotten the looks of envy that had inspired in the other girls. Instead of feeling gawky, it had made her feel powerful. Special. Now she was feeling that delicious stretching in her bones again and didn’t want it to ever stop.
In moments she easily breached the six-foot mark, slowing only as she reached six-foot-three and finally stopping at six-five-and-a-half. More than a foot taller in seconds! ‘Now that’s how a Supergirl has a growth spurt!’ she thought, overcome with bliss. Even better, her already legendary bosom had scaled up even more than proportionally to match her new height, the playfully bouncing volleyballs becoming … Wrecking balls. All her old cosplay rivals were going to find themselves face-to-breast with the new and improved Sylvie! Forced to crane their necks way, way back, because, "Hey, my eyes are up here." She'd tower over most men too, completely reversing the dynamic she'd endured all her life. ‘So much more of me to love!’ And despite their newly increased diameter, her enormous breasts remained perfectly scaled to the bounty of her sleek Olympian frame. She was like a Terry Dodson CoverGirl made real. ALL woman, One glance and you knew: This. Girl. Was. Built. To. Fuck. You. Senseless.
The low rumble of Sylvia’s sensuous breathing became a drumming like thunder, rattling windows for blocks around as Sylvia’s right hand slapped the ground over and over. She'd just had her SEVENTH super-climax and it only made her crave more! And why not? Eight would be even bigger and better! She could feel individual atoms now, rubbing and sucking her breasts, the universe kissing her nipples and clit, stroking the back of her neck, grinding against her buttocks. The Law of Unintended Consequences having a field day with Sylvia’s ludicrously supercharged senses. ‘Not even Superman's supposed to be this powerful, right?’ she wondered. The whole world was taking on a shimmering prismatic glow from her perspective. One in 10-million women were born tetrachromatic, able to see hundreds of times more colors than any man. And she'd wished to be much better than that. Sylvia's pentachromatic blue eyes were seeing ten thousand times as many colors as she'd ever known before. Her equally sensitive loins where turning the slightest vibration into the most blistering of climaxes. Meanwhile, her dainty palm was crashing into the ground like a pile driver as she repeatedly struck the floor, convulsing with unbearable ecstasy. Except unlike a piledriver, Sylvia’s arm grew dozens of times stronger between each earthshaking impact as her stringy frame steadily metamorphosed into a sexy meaty hardbody, wrapped in sleek Kryptonian super-muscles.
wham - wham - wham - Wham! - WHAM!!
With her eyes rolled back into her head, Sylvia kept slapping the floor. Each new earth tremor created by her titanic blows sent a fresh shockwave back into her swelling, muscular hips, ringing her crotch like a church bell and starting the cycle all over again. The Sylvia-quakes had her wound up into a continuous death-spiral of climaxes unlikely to end before the building was demolished.
The unbroken chain of K-gasms came on so hard and fast it knocked the wind out of Sylvia, paralyzing her chest with sexual rapture. She was drowning in rainbows while her throbbing clitoris drilled into the base of her skull with crystalized ecstasy. She was gripped by the fear that had fluttered in the back of her mind all along: This was all too much for any woman to endure. What if she cummed herself to death?
Desperately trying to catch her breath, she managed only a series of tiny choked gulps, each one enough to make your ears pop as the pressure in the room dropped sharply. Another gasp sucked the door of her room shut. Sophie stopped kneading her breasts to clap her hands over her ears and Bree had just enough time to pull them both down behind the couch before Sylvia’s next super-gasp imploded all of the windows in the house! ‘Can’t… breathe!’ Sylvia wanted to scream in panic, overwhelmed by her new body and how indescribably intense everything felt now!
“HHHhhhhhhuHH!” Sylvia inhaled desperately, consuming all the air in the room like a living black hole. She sucked in everything around her not nailed down. Chaos reigned, setting a new high water mark for the mess in the living room with one breath. Shelves collapsed and Bree’s television flipped off its stand. The shards of glass ripped from the window frames were sucked into the vortex, becoming a horizontal fountain of razor-edged death lunging across the room at her. The fire-hose blast of broken glass scoured the overstretched white leotard right off Sylvia’s body, freeing the ivory globes crowning her heaving chest and promising to shred the plump vertical lips between her open thighs. Jagged shards smashed into her with a tinkling crash, but even the softest parts of her smooth skin endured the ripping, tearing flood without so much as a scuff mark. Courtesy of her lovely Kryptonian skin.
She’d seen the blast coming at her and had nearly unleashed a scream that would have blown the entire flat to smithereens. Instead of tearing her to bits when it struck her, it tickled!
‘Oh. Right. I guess I’m invulnerable.' The not-so-deadly-after-all torrent of glass splashed against her recumbent figure like a wave against the rocks, a glittering tide crashing against the outrageous curves of her bosom and spraying upwards. She wasn’t dying! She was changing, Becoming the almighty angel she’d imagined herself as at the moment she’d grasped both the nugget and her future. She lifted her knees and arched her back. Inhaling deeply on purpose now, Sylvia leaned into the blast of window-bits, welcoming the scratchy pleasure that would never again be pain.
"Wait... I’m invulnerable!" she cried out. "Knives, bullets, bombs… Ha! I bet nothing can hurt me, now!!" All the stories of supergirls deflecting gunfire with their tits, feeling deadly bullets ricocheting off their aching nipples? That was gonna be her! Even K-gasms were hard-pressed to compare to how arousing the knowledge of what she could get away with now: namely anything. She was so wound up at the thought, she wanted to explode and hump a battle-tank to death at the same time. Squat down over the end of the long hard barrel and tell them to “pull the fucking trigger! I can take it! I WANT IT!” A muscular ripple of ecstasy visibly rolled up Sylvia’s long, curvaceous body as she imagined catching a tank shell between her thighs before crushing out of existence using only her pussy-muscles.
Opening her eyes again she looked up at the sparkling shards of glass raining down around her. She wanted to laugh, it was all so beautiful … SHE was so beautiful! Instead, Sylvia struggled to release the seeming ocean of air inside her slowly and without popping her home like an overinflated balloon.
Letting out a long sigh, Sylvia fantasized about cutting loose, screaming out in pleasure so loud the house simply disintegrated as her shout knocked the whole Earth off its axis. A fanciful thought that the nugget placed firmly within Sylvia’s grasp: her lungs became another thousand times more powerful just for shits and grins. The changes wouldn't stop until she was power incarnate. She knew it too, now; the arousal in her mind growing on an exponential arc in pursuit of the unparalleled pleasures of her body. She was becoming the most fucking sexy ‘Woman of Steel’ ever! Not some cosplay either - this was the real world! The planet would be her personal playground! No one could threaten or control Super Sylvia! She’d be able to do anything - everything - for REAL!!
Bree peered out from behind the edge of the couch. No longer held aloft in the indoor tornadoes spawned from her super-lungs, the bits of glass fell around Sylvia like glittering rain. Bree’s moaning roomie now drifted just above the floor, innocently mocking gravity and sporting the most magnificent breasts the Earth had ever seen. Sylvia wouldn’t be able to see her own toes over them now, her line of sight blocked by three-dimensional, living, breathing, jiggling, moaning Power Girl titties. Her costume had been ripped away and there was not a scrap of foam padding anywhere to be found. Bree could see Sylvia's epic body still filling out, her long legs becoming even more delightfully firm and sleek, her athletic figure elegantly displayed over a spray of glinting shards like some kind of international swimsuit supermodel on a crystal beach. Bree watched as Sylvia’s ass and hips raced to catch up with her chest and her waist became the definition of ‘hourglass’.
Bree smirked. She really should have known that the over-the-top boob job was just the start for her roomie. Then there were the sounds that girl was making! Sylvia’s eruption had to be taking her on the ride of her life! Not quite what Bree had intended when she’d decided to share her discovery with the sweet little nerd, but there was no arguing with the results! Bree felt an unexpected surge of pride. No longer the hero of her own story, she knew she was just part of the audience now. But it was still the best day ever.
It was a nubile Amazon who finally rose from the battered floor. Only she didn’t just stand up; Sylvia flew into the air, even gravity unable to constrain her gloriousness. Upside down, she drifted in front of the big mirror on the outside of her bedroom door. The blonde wig she’d worked so hard on flopped to the floor, rendered moot by her own thick masses of rich gold hair that had grown in beneath it. The feathery yellow tufts were made up of fine strands stronger than bridge cables. A golden bob that artfully framed her face.
And what a face! While it was unmistakably her, her features had been reinvented using only the finest materials. Every muscle was sleek and tight, her skin flawless alabaster-white velvet, her dull blue eyes now bright as gems, her brows subtly arched, her pleasant jawline further refined into a perfect heart shape. There wasn’t a wrinkle or hint of sagging anywhere to be seen and never would be. Her face practically glowed with superhuman vitality in the softly fading afternoon light, her delighted smile radiant as a new dawn. She might not have the artful geometry of Sophie’s super beauty, but it was still classically feminine, a face that once seen could never be forgotten. Even her pink lips were sexy, full, and moist. Soft as marshmallow but strong enough to remold solid steel like sucking on a puff of whipped cream. Her whole face was gorgeous. All of her was gorgeous!
She was so hot. Every curve in the mirror was a reflection of her imagination running wild. Only that had in turn been multiplied by the hunk of fictionite into something irresistibly sexy. She backed away from the mirror, floating into the center of the room, stretching and flexing luxuriously, doing the splits in mid-air and running her slender hands over every part of herself. She marveled at the long lines of her own perfection. Her graceful limbs were adorned with exactly enough muscular heft to bring elegant balance to the big-as-her-head super-breasts that had served as the opening act in this concert. In fact, she might have overdone it a little. Toes dangling a foot above the floor, she carefully touched her nipple. Just poking it with a single finger she was rewarded with a pulse of pleasure that would have sent the old Sylvia crashing to the floor, eyes rolled back in her head and twitching in a gran mal seizure. She squeezed her erect nipples harder and a firestorm of pleasure roared in the back of her skull. Every lick of flame was an orgasm waiting to happen if she dared to concentrate on it, sink down into it and lose herself in the fires of pleasure. Ecstasy on demand. Had she said ‘a little?’ She’d overdone it a lot.
Poor Sylvia: she would just have to endure being slightly non-canonical. Because not even Karen Starr was this sexy. The coed had actually become more of a lusty XXX version of the comics, her outrageous figure the very best of Power Girl Porn brought to life. Hers was a body that only an artist with no shame in their love of her voluptuousness, her strength, her primal beauty could produce. A particularly horny artist who had imagined her fucking his brains out the whole time he was drawing the most spectacular curves he knew how. Then he balled up and threw away his first attempt and redrew her even better. Sylvia was a living magnum opus.
'Yeah, this grown-up version of Kara definitely had advantages over any comic book version.' she thought. Namely, she was going to have sex! Lots and lots of sex, if Sylvia had any choice in the matter. Which she did. Hers was the only vote that would ever matter, in fact.
“This looks like a job for Suuu-per Sylvia!” she declared to her reflection in total bliss, echoing her earlier thoughts as she laughed out loud. The impossibly lovely face laughed with her and she climaxed again at the sight of her own reflection and the certainty that was HER in the mirror now.
At the sound of Bree’s laughter, Sophie dared poke her head out too, gasping at the sight of Sylvia’s sculpted and overwhelmingly womanly body topped by a face as beautiful as hers in its own way. Sophie’s angelic grin turned to a devilish leer. She was so going to make ‘Super Sylvie’ pop like a champagne bottle.
Buzzing with pleasure from the multiple flavors of orgasms thundering through her, Sylvia reached down between her spread legs to stroke the now sleekly defined ridges of her inner thighs. The cords of muscles were a roadmap leading you to her equally extravagant labia majora. Major majora now, the smooth outer lips firm and strong enough to devour I-beams and spit out bullets. Simultaneously delicate and indestructible. Her calves and thighs gently bulged with superhuman might. Until now she could only have imagined this view: so firm, so chiseled. So strong. Because if what she thought was happening to her was true, the little spasms that shook her so delightfully were in fact powerful enough to throw an aircraft carrier into orbit.
She pictured herself: first lifting the largest of ships over her head, not even straining as 100,000 tons tried to crash back into the sea… then launching it with a swift jerk of her mighty arms, throwing it so high it vanished from sight (well not from her sight of course). Then squatting down on a second warship and crushing it to hot slag using only her long thighs. She imagined the feeling as molten alloys gurgled up inside her pussy, unable to cool or harden as she continued to squeeze and twist the glowing red metal with her inner, deeper super-muscles. Exerting the kind of pressure found only at the core of the Earth. She would turn hundreds of millions of dollars of the most advanced weapons the world had to offer into sex toys with a sensual laugh. Teasing the defeated and powerless armies of every nation until she finally claimed all the world's nukes for her own intimate uses.
‘Well, maybe just one nuke. For my birthday. What's a few megatons between friends …or between your thighs?’ she thought, biting her lower lip as she envisioned the rush of atomic fire over her indestructible skin, not even singeing an eyelash. She wouldn’t really conquer the world. But she could! Sylvia felt her vaginal muscles trembling with otherworldly might at the thought, yet still able to be as gentle as a falling leaf. That nuke though? That was definitely on the to-do list.
Bree stood from behind the couch as Sylvia moaned again. You could hear the promise of a dozen climaxes in the warbling tones. The girl wasn’t on Cloud 9, she’d eaten it like cotton candy and gotten all over herself in the process. Bree had experienced a trio of intense orgasms just laying on the floor behind the couch and listening to her roomie cumming over and over. Girl was infectious! She realized all this was exactly the kind of crazy she should have expected from Sylvia. The American girl had been an odd mix of the shy wallflower and an eager little sex-ferret as long as Bree had known her. Sometimes to the point of embarrassing herself with how bad she wanted to make out with her crush-of-the-week but not quite knowing how to get it done. For Bree’s geeky friend the nugget was the ticket to sexual Nerdvana. Guys would be throwing themselves at her now!
Sylvia reached out and scooped up two big handfuls of broken glass off the carpet, the nugget of fictionite slipping unnoticed from her grasp at last. She ground her palms together, spreading boiling glass evenly across her hands before rubbing it into her nearly spherical breasts like translucent skin cream. Her fingers lingered on her fat-cherry-sized and candy-pink nipples as she worked the molten droplets over her soft skin. Sylvia’s eyes narrowed, shaken by the overwhelming intensity of the pleasure flooding through her from her Kryptonian super-tits. Then she continued flicking and teasing them just because she could. Again physical sensation was mirrored by intellectual wonder: she’d just slathered herself with molten glass! ‘Could I be any hotter? Pun totally intended.’ she thought to herself with wicked delight. ‘I AM the sexiest, most powerful woman in the universe!’ she realized. There was no runner-up. either. Well, maybe the incredibly hot girl leering at her, whom she finally realized must be Sophie after receiving a wish of her own.
MMMMMMmmmm! The naked supergirl purred like a cat that had swallowed a jet engine as she worshiped her own divine tits, putting on a show for her audience of two like the most outrageously endowed cam-girl. Kneading her firm globes like loaves of bread, shaking them side to side just to laugh at how long it took for them to stop swishing back and forth, finally lifting them to her lips where her long pink tongue could tease first one engorged nipple then the other, tasting herself as she winked at the panting Sophie. Her roomies both had front row seats to watch the girl no one would ever say ‘no’ to. The warm, buttery sensations from the molten glass were as clear and pure as diamonds in her mind. Diamonds she knew would crack and splinter against the softest bits of her Kryptonian hardbody when she cupped piles of them in her hands and ground them against her tits. Just … like … this … She let out a soft, cold breath, instantly freezing the liquid glass oozing over her chest before she ground her palms deep into her breasts, crushing the faux diamonds into dust against the bulging pillows.
It was kinda hawt.
Bree and Sophie had gotten what they needed and wanted respectively. Sylvia was getting everything she dreamed. They were witnesses to the birth of a Deity in their living room: their timid flatmate reincarnated as the Goddess of Dangerous Curves and Transparent Sexual Innuendos. They watched mesmerized as their floating roommate-gone-goddess worked herself up to another incomprehensibly powerful orgasm in mid-air.
She was SO POWERFUL now! What if she allowed herself to be just a little bad? Just a smidgen. Sylvia visualized herself flying to the guy’s dorms night after night for months to come, prying open a window sash chosen at random with the flick of her finger. One lucky guy about to become hers. Still stories above the ground, she slipped silently inside so her awesomely rounded silhouette was backlit in the half-light of the streetlights far below. They’d wake to discover a naked Super Sylvia hanging weightlessly over them, the needy tips of her gravity-defying breasts just tickling their chests. “Hi. We’re gonna fuck now.” She’d announce matter-of-factly in her American accent before they became twisted into a single grunting mass. Listening to her prey howl as she slid them into her hungry pussy, her juices hot and slippery. She’d ride them pressed against the walls, they'd make out on the ceiling. Sylvia dominated their bodies and egos completely with the tireless humping of her wide hips and her infinite stamina. They were so pleased at first, so proud, so foolishly imagining they were 'man enough' to tame this mystery woman. As if any man ever could!
Instead, she kept pumping, laughing playfully at them as they reached their limits and begged her to stop, hoping to catch their breath and promising they had one more still in them if she’d only give them a minute. But she never did, her sweet kisses, and hot breath in their ear. Her fluttering inner muscles forcing them to stay harder for her than a viagra overdose, fucking their bodies without pause for hours like only a supergirl could until the sweet surrender of total exhaustion claimed them.
They’d be lighter than feathers and more fragile than spun glass to her now. The passionate animal sex becoming a demonstration of her perfect control, over herself and over them. Jocks and virgins, timid and bold all falling into her, unable to resist her beauty and not even trying. All their bravado crumbling, worn away by Sylvia’s ceaseless grinding. She’d ravish each young stud completely, pleasuring them nearly into a coma before vanishing into back into their dreams.
"…Ok. Maybe two a night. Or three…" she moaned. It was a big campus after all and an insatiable libido been one of her superpowers long before this latest transformation. Plus there was no one anywhere who could stop her! The sheer enormity of her power slowly sinking in: Good or Bad, she could do anything she wanted. No one could stop her anymore. N-E-THING!. The prospect fueled her arousal even more powerfully than the sensation rocking her body. It was the best power of all: total freedom.
That was the tipping point. The moment Sylvia passed beyond morality's limits ...and protection.
"You can do anything. Anything now!" she purred to herself, long graceful fingers moved on from her upthrust breasts to explore and then service her every erogenous zone, "You can have more sex than God!" she promised herself, hands moving faster and faster until they became fondling blurs. She was pulling out all the stops now! Words faded from even her Kryptonian super-brain as she tested the true limits of her sexuality and found there were none at all.
"Ya... Ya! Oh, oh!" Steam rose from Sylvia’s trembling body and the shattered glass below her softened and even started to melt from the heat radiating off of her. Sylvia’s hips bucked wildly as the twin blurs began to focus between her thighs. She was plunging into herself at several times the speed of sound, creating muffled sonic booms inside her vagina (which feels even better than it sounds, if you’re Sylvia).
The orgasmic rumblings could be felt a mile away as the Sylvia became the epicenter of another unintentional earthquake. "Ya.. Yaaaah!, oh YAA!" She began stroking the place inside herself other girls had a G-spot. Only her new body came equipped with a K-spot, the cluster of nerves hundreds of thousands of times more sensitive than she'd been born with. The quivering, wordless cries became quieter but even more unbearably sexy as Sylvia discovered level after level of divine pleasure only a goddess should achieve.
“Ya? …Ya? …YAH? Is there more?” she cried out as she stroked herself inside and out, raking her diamond-hard nails over her quivering K-spot. “Can anyone be more? …ohh … I can … I CAN! … Yesss!” Sylvia’s whole body sped up until she held infinity in the palm of her hand, saw eternities in an hour. “There's so MUCH more … I … can become … So. Much. MORE! ” Her shuddering body tumbled through the air like a dolphin at play, frolicking in an ocean of liquid godsex. Beads of melted glass were swept up and trailing behind her long limbs like water droplets filling the flat with tiny rainbows. Blasted over and over by supercharged K-gasms more than a thousand times too powerful for any woman to bear, Sylvia discovered her personal Xanadu and passed within.
Sylvia was was in Heaven. Superspeed conspired with infinite stamina to compress weeks and months of unending fiery orgasmic release into moments. Sylvia's identity crumbled, overdosing on herself as her animal groping brought her to climax a hundred new ways each second, like a super AI exploring all the possibilities sex would ever offer. Tenants all over the building went down together, cumming themselves senseless in response to the echoing sounds of divine bliss filling the structure as Earth's only superbeing plunged into the uncharted realms of mega-ecstasy that opened up before her,
Somewhere on some distant metaphysical plane, the Curse of the Monkey's Paw snickered.
Arching back in midair, the eyes of a Goddess snapped open. Twin threads of furious red-gold light leaked from the windows of her soul, lancing through their roof and out into space. She came like a supernova, every cell in her body a factory both creating and experiencing pleasure. It was a blast that could have shattered the world if it hadn’t all been so neatly contained within her wonderfully touchable, invulnerable skin. The stellar cataclysm within the silken glove.
Sylvia Shannon, quiet roommate and sexually frustrated young college student was gone. Her core premise fundamentally altered. She'd been recreated cell by cell as something fresh and new. The diety replacing her was as similar to that girl as an oak tree is to an acorn. From that seed, a generous, playful, and soon to be very sexually active young woman had sprung up. One who after encountering one of the universe's forgotten cheat codes found herself stuck in permanent GodMode.
“Ooooohhhh…” She sighed at merely mortal volume this time. Satisfied —for now—. “Well, that was nice.” the Goddess announced coolly. Accurate, at least for certain values of nice that might include infinity.
Her roomies crawled out from behind the couch, looking rather disheveled after their own bout of sympathetically induced heavy petting. Fragile little Sophie was gonna have to be careful hanging around two girls who could pop the tops off of tanks like opening a can of soda. Even Bree could send the turret sailing hundreds of feet away using only one pinky. *Pop!*
Sylvia The Goddess smiled down at them over her massive tits without feeling the slightest bit of modesty at their stares. She’d finally nailed the silhouette she’d been chasing all damn day. ‘Let ‘em look,’ she thought still overflowing with gratitude for their part in her ascension. She was PERFECTION.
She flew down and hugged them both to her ample chest, her feet still never touching the floor. Even if they had, she'd still tower over them now! She loved the way her big soft breasts almost swallowed them. “Way better than a puppy,” she announced, leaning down to plant a sisterly kiss on each of their foreheads. Even her voice was bigger, a rich alto resonant with deeply feminine mystery, tempered by carnal experience beyond mortal imaginings.
“What?” Sophie asked confused. She was in awe but dared to lean in and nuzzle her cheek against her floating friend’s breast anyway. So soft … so strong … so beautiful.
Bree gave her a funny look too, then wriggled out of Sylvia’s grip with surprising strength of her own.
“Oh, nothing.” Sylvia cupped the breast not being rubbed by Sophie’s face and lifted it for emphasis. “I like what you had to show me,” she said to Bree, deadpanning her infinite gratitude as if maybe they’d brought home some new plates and bowls for the shared kitchen. Sylvia couldn’t resist squeezing her own epic mound gently while Sophie attacked the other with greater enthusiasm if less effect. Damn! That was a feeling that wasn’t going to get old before the heat death of the universe. “Oh! Yeah… you just keep doing that…” she sighed, almost overcome to once again be touched by someone else. Someone who wanted nothing more than find pleasure in giving pleasure. Her hand rose and gently stroked Sophie’s red hair.
“So… what was that?” She looked at them both again more carefully, noting every detail now with her rather more than 20/20 vision. “Looks like you both definitely had a taste too …”
“That was your one wish. We think. And yeah, we both had pretty good luck with ours.” Bree smiled, then picked up her broken TV with both hands and crushed it into a golf ball.
“Not like you!” Sophie cried out in rapture before burying her movie-star face in cleavage again. She didn’t seem to mind Sylvia’s vastly greater good fortune at all. Or maybe it was just easy to be magnanimous when you were heart-stoppingly beautiful yourself.
Sylvia pried Sophie off gently but firmly and set her back a step. “Well, as much as I’d like to stay home and finish wrecking the place all supergirls-gone-wild, I’ve still got the biggest masquerade of the season to go to.” ‘ …and a certain Gina to watch choke,’ she thought to herself. Then her eyes went wide.
“You should totally come!”
Poor choice of words perhaps, as Sophie squealed in response to the suggestion, cumming immediately. She would have launched herself at Sylvia again if Sylvia hadn’t laid a palm against Sophie’s forehead holding her at arm’s length like an over-anxious four-year-old. “Well, I assume that’s one ‘yes’.”
Bree shook her head. “You know that’s not my thing, Sylvie…”
“Ah, come on, Bree. You’ll make a great Jessica Jones.” Sylvia smiled. “Sophie can go as the Phoenix.”
Bree had watched that show at Sylvia’s insistence. The gloomy, superstrong PI had kicked much ass. And she’d love to find a hunk to play Luke Cage for her. She wasn't sure who the Phoenix was, but she was betting Sophie was hotter. Both of her roomies were just off the scale now!
“Maybe,” she considered the offer more seriously. ‘It could be fun? Just once?’ she thought to herself, trying to work herself up to a ‘yes’.
Sylvia put some of the lusty moaning back in her tone. “I’ll make it up to yoooouu…” At which point the already over-stimulated Sophie collapsed to her knees.
“Fine! Fine …” Bree grimaced, trying not to cum then and there as Sylvia’s sexy-voice licked more than just her ear. She wondered if that was really one of Power Girl’s powers in the comics? She had a growing suspicion somewhere along the line Sylvia had cheated.
“Great!” Suddenly Sylvia was gone and most of the house seemed to blur. A random, wild wind tugged at Sophie’s fox-red hair and the house flickered around them in a sort of 3D time lapse.
When Sylvia re-solidified almost two minutes later the whole flat had been tidied up, there was cardboard cut to shape and taped over all the broken windows and she held out hand-sewn costumes for each of them (hand worked, because there was no way her machine could keep up with her now). The floor was still a write-off, but she’d have to learn carpentry before she could fix that or the crazy squiggle she’d burnt through the ceiling. Sylvia was now clad in a glistening long white dress trimmed in gold with a matching white scarf draped across her arms. Something like a gold ‘8’ was centered high on her chest, outlining two broad openings that revealed an awful lot of her curvaceous and silky skin beneath.
“Th-that’s a Power Girl costume?” Bree asked, unable to look away from the rise and fall of bare flesh peeking through the cutouts. You could hide an entire Christmas pudding in the deep cleavage Sylvia had on display. Sophie pounced on her new clothes and raced up to her room to change.
Sylvia rolled her beautiful pale blue eyes, then raised her arms in a double bicep curl that tensed her bare arms and lifted her breasts, just about launching them over the top of the low-cut dress. “Adam Hughes, you heathen! I want to wow the judges, not give them heart attacks.”
“I’m thinking that’s still a possibility …” Bree muttered. Sylvia heard her perfectly, of course, and laughed with her.
Sylvia looked down at herself. “Really, I should have gone with this one in the first place.” ignoring the fact it showed off even more bare breast than her leotard keyhole had. “So elegant …” she said softly, her dress starting to tent over her stiffening nipples. Sylvia vanished and her door slammed shut. There was another earth tremor before she reappeared in front of Bree, not a hair out of place and her dress strategically reinforced at the bust against further wardrobe failures.
“Heehee.” the coltish Goddess said timidly, her face flushed and knowing Bree wasn’t fooled for a second.
“Think that’s gonna keep happening a lot? We may need better insurance…”
“Fuck, I hope so.” Sylvia stretched sensuously as a cat after her little bit of exercise, floating right up off the ground again languidly. Her body catching up with her breasts that never seemed to be anything but weightless. “Best. Day. Ever.”
Bree had to agree.
“Plus there’s that thing you did with your breath!” Sophie chirped, having snuck up behind her Kryptonian roommate and wrapping herself around her, groping both her mounds again. “It was like an indoor hurricane. I bet you can hold your breath for months!”
“Hold… breath…” Sylvia mused. “That’s a great idea, Sophie!” Sylvia giggled wickedly, making Bree and Sophie’s knees go weak all over again. Her mere presence was a ‘stand by to cum’ sign. “Ok, gang. Don’t take this the wrong way, but right now I really need some dick and I have one in mind. I’ll be back in a minute. …Hmm, five minutes if he’s lucky.”
Sylvia vanished again, leaving her dress neatly draped over the back of the couch and Sophie emptyhanded. This time the front door flew open with a bang.
Casually as could be, Bree strolled over and picked up the fictionite nugget. It definitely seemed smaller now.
“Well, who are we gonna do with this next?” she asked.
Ian was in the zone. Cutting through the chemical-scented waters of the Olympic sized training pool, he felt his muscles humming with barely constrained energy. This was going to be one of his best times this season.
Nearby, a pale young blonde woman of staggering proportions strolled naked out of the girl's locker room and walked along the very edge of the pool, staring intently into the water. A coach came towards her, uncertain if he should be furious or concerned for the suitless girl until she smirked and launched him twenty feet sideways with an idle flick of her hand. He hit the center of the pool with a huge splash. Just as all eyes in the stands were drawn to the impact, she reached Ian's lane and dived in with hardly a ripple.
Ian's ears heard the commotion poolside, but his brain filtered out everything except the need to go faste–
His cupped hand clipped something underwater soft and yet more unyielding than the molded concrete rimming the pool. He became aware of a presence in the water. Ian’s brain struggled to make sense of the curvaceous swirl of peach-colored skin beneath him, Was there someone under him in the swim lane! Somone casually keeping pace with his best speed...
Ian stared through racer's goggles. The presence resolved itself into a female figure. Incredibly female actually. It was a naked girl swimming along with him! Damn, she was stacked: he had never seen larger breasts in person.
Before he could even begin to slow down an impossible undertow clutched him. He let out a startled yelp that cost him precious air as he was drawn down into the depths. The girl had him by the wrist and one long leg hooked over his. He was a powerful swimmer, but nothing he did seemed to budge her at all. Ian was baffled. Even if she was pretty big (maybe even as tall as him, he mistakenly underestimated), he still should have been able to shake her off! He was no stranger to pool-wrestling. Water-tussling with women too. He’d gone midnight skinny dipping in this very pool with some of his hottest fans. They could be dangerously grabby, lacking respect for the water. But this spectacular pool-nymph left them all dog-paddling in the shallow end in both the strength and looks departments. She had all the right curves in all the right places while her belly and limbs sported a degree of sleek muscle-tone that left him aroused and jealous at in the same time. Who the hell was she? Did she go to this school? Her gorgeous face seemed curiously familiar...
He still had breath to spare but his inability to pull away left Ian with a growing sense of alarm. The single graceful hand around his wrist had him shackled more firmly than handcuffs and she pulled him to the bottom without any obvious paddling or kicking. They sank she was made of stone. He tried to push away with his free hand but she shifted slightly and he instead found his fingers splayed across her massive breast, a firm nipple digging into his palm. Before he could even feel shock at how soft and warm her flesh was, she’d she'd brought the other wrist caught in her vice-like grip to her bust and was grinding both his hands into her giant tits.
Sylvia shivered, eyes closed. She was building towards multiple tiny orgasms, not just from the sensation of his hands now vigorously groping at her beautiful breasts, but because this was Ian, the very stud-muffin she’d stalked for months. Only the tables had turned and now he was the one desperately eager to please, to worship her. Their roles were more than reversed: he was entirely at her mercy. His scorn had threatened her enrollment but she held his life literally in her hands... and between her pink lips.
Ian saw the pool-angel open her eyes with a wide smile that was almost scary before she leaned in over her own glorious bust and kissed him full on the lips. Sweet, cool air blew out of her and Ian inhaled deeply, silencing the terrified gibbering of the part of his mind certain he would drown in her steely embrace.
They touched bottom. She’d spun them about so his ass cheeks were pressed to the smooth concrete while she mounted him, effortlessly anchoring him to the floor. She moved like she wasn’t even in the water, its thick resistance meaningless before her strength while his skin rippled over taut muscles, blasted by the powerful currents she generated with every gesture. He began to suspect her high, round breasts were always that shape, with or without the added buoyancy of water.
Ian looked up at the surface, a mere eight feet and forever far away. Little pieces of something floated towards it. He realized the scraps were the remains of his swim trunks. He had no idea when in this fantasy scenario she’d torn them off him, but it explained the gentle probing of her fingers on his bare scrotum as she inserted his rigid penis into herself.
Ian’s eyes rolled back in his head. The sensations of slippery warmth and pulsating pressure on his cock were staggering. His dick tingled like someone had dusted it with pure cocaine. His pulse quickened and his member grew as hard as he'd ever known. Had he said pool-angel? He quickly upgraded the creature methodically fucking his brains out to Pool-Goddess! Then seconds later before he lost the use of words entirely he promoted her again to something closer to the truth – ‘Sex Goddess’.
Sylvia was having a grand old time too. She'd had meant to get back to the flat already but she wasn’t going to deny herself this. Months of humiliation after he’d turned down her advances. The terror that she’d be kicked out of the school. Now Ian here was going to make it up to her with interest.
She pumped herself slowly up and down the boy’s trembling rigid pole, reveling in both the magnificently rich sensations coming from her cock-stuffed cleft and her own absolute power in this scenario. She was redefining ‘pool-sex’ for the gorgeous team captain in a way no one else ever could. In fact, she intended to use her all of her powers to fuck him until she created a whole new sexual orientation: Sylviasexual. When she was done, he’d never be aroused by anyone else ever again.
Every so often she leaned down, trapped his groping hands between her breasts and his own chest, and blew another breath of life-giving air into his lungs through his delicious lips. She felt him, his skin, his chemistry, his faintest tremors in more detail than any girlfriend or lover before her. With that insight Sylvia played his body like a harp, plucking his strings to make music in his brain. Binding his love to her forever. ‘Mine. He’s Mine!’ Sylvia’s body trembled again, the awkward nerd in her soul still had some growing to do before she could be a truly magnanimous Goddess.
Strong hands seized Sylvia roughly and she nearly lost the rhythm laughing. A half dozen of the athletic young men in the pool had come to Ian’s rescue only to discover they’d have an easier time lifting a blacksmith’s anvil out of the bottom of the pool. Sylvia nearly came on the spot: now the entire swim team was pursuing her instead of vice versa!
Still kneeling on the bottom with Ian pinned between her thighs, Sylvia arched her back and spread her arms wide, displaying her breasts proudly to the squad of would-be rescuers, inviting them to grab a handful of goddess-flesh wherever they liked. All the while the oil well pumping of her hips drove Ian closer and closer to incoherent release. She pulled four more of the yummy boys to the bottom, two on each arm as she leaned down to give Ian the next life-giving ‘air kiss’ that could only come from her bottomless lungs. Three fled, springing off the bottom to race to the surface for air. The fourth remained, lacing the fingers of his hand into hers. She saw in his eyes he had realized not only was she beautiful beyond words but that Ian was in no danger as long as this sea-goddess remained satisfied. Like a mermaid giving the gift of water breathing to her chosen lovers, the two swim-hunks were all free to stay beneath the waters until she was done with them. He grinned at her and her heart swelled. The first young man to offer himself as a willing sacrifice to her deific-lusts. Gazing back into those hungry eyes, she found herself wanting him even more than Ian.
Abruptly his swim trunks were in as many tatters as Ian’s and his cock was engulfed into the warm, rasping glory of the goddess’s mouth. Sylvia casually juggled sucking him off while her impeccable timing kept both him and Ian supplied with air. The other swimmers returned, with reinforcements this time, but now they were like little fish stealing kisses and caressing her body as Sylvia drove their team captain and her first worshiper to multiple climaxes.
Kryptonian pheromones and her concentrated vaginal juices dissolved into the pool water, then into the skin of the swimmers, creating a whole school of Sylviasexuals as the entire swim team became entangled in her impromptu aquatic orgy.
After enjoying a dozen minor orgasms — the kind that would hospitalize any human woman — Sylvia’s ripples of cascading pleasure began to align, building to a full K-gasm. She embraced it, the pool becoming a vortex as her thrashing grew faster and faster. She howled in ecstasy, emptying her lungs and creating a burst of foamy water bigger than if the entire team had all cannonballed into the pool at once.
As stunned spectators looked on, Sylvia rose gently out of the foam, Ian and her nameless worshiper clasped one in each arm. She kissed them each on the forehead, almost motherly as their spent and exhausted bodies trembled helplessly. They were wiped out, victims of excruciatingly intense male multiple orgasms evolution had never prepared them for.
“Now, I want you to practice hard.” She said encouragingly, her words laced with enough breathy promise of more sex to set their hips bucking spasmodically. “I’m going to expect better from you next time,” She warned them, a dangerous lilt in her words.
Before they could even flinch, she dropped them fifteen feet into the pool and vanished to the sound of tinkling glass as she blasted naked through the glass roof above the swim center.
One millisecond later and three miles up, Sylvia clutched her own breasts, mauling them with her infinite strength in a way the boys below never could. She lifted one to her lips and sucked until she felt another superhuman K-gasm coming on. She just wanted to prolong this moment she'd so often dreamed of: Super Sylvia conquering the swim team. Swallowing them whole, really. Her new reality so much better than even her wildest fantasies. They'd all be lying awake tonight thinking only of her. Perfect.
...Well, that, and because being able to lick your own cotton candy pink nipples with your tongue flicking at over three times the speed of sound was also something to celebrate. The day had been full of firsts for her.
Holding herself at the pinnacle of bliss for long seconds that were an eternity, Sylvia looked out over the city. From up here, the whole world was laid out before its new Goddess, waiting breathlessly for her to claim it in any way and every way she wanted!
“Oh, this IS the Best. Day. Ever.” she whispered, then set her sights on home.
Everyone wants to be a beast, until it's time to do what real beasts do.
- SWM - Senior
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- SWM - Expert
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jnw550 wrote: Wow. That was amazing. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, thank you. I've kept at it with the editing and refinement. It's cleaned up nicely over the last few days
Agent00Soul wrote: Great work with the story and DAZ images!
Thanks! I'm hoping to do some images that directly align with the terrible trio's adventures soonish.
So... does anyone have a favorite part?
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