The honking of geese (a notebook)

Batman hadn’t lasted this long in his chosen vocation without having developed a keen sense for ambushes. As innocent as she might look, Kara-El -- Supergirl -- leaning against the wall outside the Watchtower dining area was not a chance encounter. She was waiting for him.

She was arching her back, accentuating her breasts. “Notice anything different?” She wheedled. She’d known how to push his buttons almost from the moment she’d arrived on Earth as a teenager. The years had made her a young woman, but she’d never lost that infuriatingly bubbly spirit. Or that ability to get under his cowl with her carefree attitude.

“I see you’ve gained 3mm at the bust line.” He said automatically, having observed and catalogued that fact reflexively. Then the importance the question -- and answer -- had for her struck him. “Congratulations,” he added sincerely, if not warmly.

“I know! Its great. Karen’s teaching me.” She rolled her shoulders back, lifting her quite lovely curves right in his face. Actually she had to leave the ground and rise 7 inches to really fill his field of view, but she could do that too. Super. Girl.

He stepped around her smoothly, still intent on getting a meal. Then what she’d said hit him. “Teaching you... what? Exactly?”

“Duh,” she said, thrilled to know anything he didn’t.

“Don’t gloat, Kara.” Power Girl called out from inside the large room. “He couldn’t know. And let the man eat. He’s got monitor duty in an hour.” While she was ‘Kara’ too, she’d always allowed the younger twin to use the name when they were together, sticking with Karen.

“...He’s gonna need it” she added, cryptically.

Batman began loading a plate from the steam table at the side of the hall. They had a chef for the designated meal times, but there was always hot food on hand. The life of a global champion didn’t always stick to a clock. The mass of meat, carbs, and grease would have killed most men, but he had a rather active lifestyle helping him burn it off.

He sat down with Power Girl, who also had an alarmingly hearty platter in front of her. But like every other part of her life, she attacked it with gusto. Between mouthfuls she explained.

“Kara wanted to figure out why we’re so different. Emphasis on the ‘figure’ part.” she joked.

He only nodded, still chewing. She smirked at Batman. Their “differences” were something of a running gag world-wide. Most people didn’t even know they were actually dimensional twins.

“We’re different ages of course, vagaries of the phantom zone. But by our best guess I’m only 3 years older... but at her age I wasn’t nearly as...”

“You can say it: flat. Scrawny.” Supergirl said while picking at a salad. She looked at the lettuce as if it might be the culprit.

“I’d have said ‘trim’, dear.” She put a hand on her smaller ‘sister’s head and ruffled her longer hair fondly. Letting it grow out like that was something she’d never been able to master.

Batman held in a smirk. Kara was anything but flat or scrawny. She was a beautiful young woman in her own right. Athletic and well-formed. Along with being one of the three most incredibly powerful aliens on Earth. Those words fit her poorly in any context save one: standing next to Karen. But since Karen’s arrival from a parallel world, Kara had been in her company weekly, often daily, and the comparisons had to weigh on her. Doubly so after they’d confirmed she was another Kara-el, identical right down to her DNA. Just... bigger.

“So that’s not it.” Kara went on. “We started comparing other things. Little stuff. It took us a few days to suss it out...”

Bats resisted the urge to ask, masking his growing curiosity behind another mouthful of meat. She’d tell him anyway.

“Turns out her version of our mother hadn’t gotten around to telling her about the ‘Birinees and the Buzzles’ before sending her off.” Karen explained with a flourish.

He suppressed a smile with long practice. It still amazed him how even on worlds half a galaxy apart, certain turns of phrase seemed almost universal. Though Clark’s description of Kryptonian reproductive practices had sounded rather more... sterile.

In a flicker, Supergirl was suddenly between them, rubbing her chest against Power Girl’s, making the comparison more than obvious. Karen kept on eating like she'd hardly noticed the sudden closeness that was pretty much the definition of lascivious. It was a reminder to Bruce that the two of them really did have a genuinely alien sense of personal space. Unlike Clark, they’d been raised in an entirely different culture, one literally not-of-this-Earth.

“I’m not getting enough sex.” Supergirl summarized.

That made him choke and sputter on the hunk of meat he was chewing. A sight so rare Supergirl immediately burst into laughter, having had no idea her many powers included the ability to make the Dark Knight blush. Then the realization she DID have some small power over him brought a flush to her cheeks.

Karen reached around Supergirl and thumped him on the back gently as he coughed up the half-chewed morsel. “I have sex every day, of course. But that’s just maintenance for me. I could get bigger with a real push.” She turned to face Supergirl. “So could you, naturally. Same genes, after all.”

“B-bigger?” Supergirl stammered, surprised by this new revelation.

“Sure. And don’t worry: I won’t mind. You probably should try it, at least for a little while so you can decide on where you want to settle at.” She leered at them both. “Make an informed decision. You might like ‘em HYOOGE. Its not like we’d get back pains here on Earth...”

‘This has to stop,’ Batman decided. It was cruel. “Karen, stop teasing her. Sex does NOT make your breasts grow. That’s just an urban myth.”

Karen corrected him. “It’s not a myth on Krypton. We’re more evolved than humans, Bruce. Our bodies respond to the demands we place on them. Kal would never be as strong as he is without all the fighting. He rises to the occasion. You must have seen that pattern. But it extends to more than just muscle for us. So these-” She hefted her world famous bosom, “-are like your muscles. If you train, they get bigger. Same for us. Hips too. If we’re reproductively active, we get more reproductively ready. And if we work out harder...

“...They get bigger!” Kara finished, all smiles. She was practically in his lap now. She cupped her own pleasant but hardly large assets. “That’s the difference! Compared to her? I’m a couch potato.” She added plaintively “Mom didn’t tell meee anything. ...And Kal hasn’t said a word...”

Karen smiled. “He probably doesn’t know, dear. He was only a baby. And he’s a guy. Its not like he grew up around Kryptonian girls...” She rolled her eyes. Lois was a lucky lady, but Kal really should have had more time to explore his heritage before settling down.

“But he’s got all the files. In the Fortress.” Kara insisted, half-certain that somehow this had all been a conspiracy against her.

Batman added, “Clark said that Krypton had moved beyond natural selection and biological maternity. That your babies were designed and gestated in exo-wombs.”

“You’re a detective, Bruce. Do you usually listen to one guy’s side of things and assume that’s the whole story? Probably a quarter of Krypton still had babies the same way as they do here right up to the last day." She gestured down at herself, then rubbed her hands over her broad powerful hips. "You think I can't have a baby with hips like these? And just about everybody still enjoyed intimacy. Its Sex, Bruce. We’re not neutered drones. Jor was like the high priest of the ‘no-touchie’ faction. There may be a teensy, tiny bit of bias in the reading library he sent on with his son...”

Kara giggled, “He always did seem a little stiff. Mom used to tease him but I never knew why before...” She reached out and wiped a bit of gravy off Bats' lips, before sucking it off her finger. It might have looked like she was teasing him, but he recognized she was still working up her own courage for something more direct...

He looked sternly at Power Girl, trying to head off the likely consequences of Kara’s growing confidence... and assertiveness. “Can she... Can she address the matter in private?” While Karen had obviously tended to her affairs with more discretion than he’d realized she was capable of, Kara the Younger would be the focus of world-wide objectification if word got out she was... active. About to be Highly active by the sound of it. Hell, there’ be lines forming to help her 'exercise'.

“On Krypton, sure. There’d be alternatives. They call them Buzzles for a reason. And certain ointments. But nothing that can be reproduced here. No, it needs to be with men. Or women, I suppose. And given her complete inexperience, partners in peak physical condition, at least for the first few months. Know anyone like that around here?"

She couldn’t be suggesting...?

Karen's eyes narrowed, her pupils dilating slightly and her own long nipples beginning to live up to the moniker "maid of steel" as she remembered her own earliest conquests. "Its a safety thing, Bruce. She will break anyone less than fully prepared. I know I did the first few times.” The words wore almost husky now.

A small smile crossed his face faster than he could suppress it. Just a flutter of his firm lips. Somewhere, somewhere an unsuspecting young man had slipped between the sheets with a much more slender teenaged Karen... turned out the lights... and discovered he'd have been better off finding an actual Bengal Tiger in the bed.

Seeing only the smallest cracks his entirely predictable reluctance, she switched to another tact.

“Come on Bats, you have to know, intellectually at least, that every minute of every day, somewhere in the world there’s a woman pleasuring herself thinking of you. 24/7. Those replica Batman costumes people sell or make, those aren’t just for Halloween. They’re for the bedroom, more often than not. You're... iconic.

Batman nodded, grudgingly. He’d looked into the trend, but had put it the on a mental shelf, irrelevant to his mission. Uncertain what to do about it other than see that the royalties went to worthy charities.

“The odds of a woman thinking of you, they go way up when they’ve seen the Bat in person. And again if the Bat has spoken to them, more if you've saved them... again if trained them.”

It was maybe the first time she’d ever seen him squirm, so tiny you’d have missed it without super-vision.

“So is it really such a surprise Kara’s one of them?”

His eyes widened inside the cowl, just the slightest bit. “No...”

“I’ve heard her, Bruce. How do you think she got those 3mm this week? It was fantasizing about you as she limbered up. You’re the second most powerful man in her world, Bruce. The tall dark and handsome gravelly voice of experience. You’re also maybe the only man she’s ever met or will meet that knowing the full extent of her power -- really understanding what she could do -- still isn’t intimidated by her. Hand her off to Grayson if you must, they’ll make a cute couple. But the first time? Its gonna be you.”

“It really is,” Supergirl announced, reminding them that no amount of whispering would actually keep their conversation private. Then she was in his chair with him, pressed so tight she was tearing gouges into the armor covering his chest with her achingly perky breasts as she moved up and down against him. State of the art alloys vs. her super nipples was no contest at all, though she liked the way it tickled and the way it made him pant for her. She was irresistible and she damn well knew it.

He grabbed her slender wrists, straining to pry her off with moves that would have sent Killer Croc flying in a howl of pain. She ignored him, peeling apart the heavy armored pads she’d already shredded, revealing his broad chest. Her own top had vanished somewhere during the process and he'd never seen her move.

She licked him from the base of his sternum to the hollow between his collar bone and neck before looking him closely in the eye, scanning his reactions with the precision of a polygraph -- a skill he'd taught her. “Don’t you want me to grow? To be a big girl now? Karen says is pretty fast if you’re aroused enough." She snuggled closer, pressing her breasts into his chest. “...I’m. Very. Aroused. In fact I think I feel it starting...”

He didn't need to look down to know she was right: he could feel it. But he glanced at the swell of her breasts anyway, impressed by their softness despite their ability to shed bullets. But she wanted him to be sure, so she pulled his hands to her chest. It was almost comical, how much smaller and weaker she looked while controlling his every movement with absolute ease. Millions of times stronger than him. Super. Girl.

She licked her lips and coo’d when he didn’t let go. Karen had promised it would feel good but this...!

She tore his sleeves off next, ripping down from the shoulder seams. “You can squeeze harder. ...Harder! You can’t hurt me Bats. Not my body anyway. But you’ll hurt my feelings if you keep saying ‘no’." She felt his hands tighten. Rao! He was so puny, and yet it felt so good. Her whole body shivered. She could feel her metabolism ramping up in a way that catching bank robbers or punching through asteroids had never gotten her pumped. "I want you. I’ve always wanted you...”

'...You and her big tits' Kara silently amended to herself, arching her back even more. Lucky her: they were a package deal!

He managed to stand, but only because she allowed it. He started to back away, but Power Girl appeared behind him, pinning him in place with her immovable closeness. She whispered in his ear “She’s of age, Bats. Here and on Krypton. And she can make her own choices. Hell, this time next year she’ll be drinking. I’ve already asked J’onzz to take your shift. You’re not getting out of this.”

He’d been right about the ambush, he just hadn’t realized it was Karen’s. Kara would never have been so bold if Karen hadn’t put her up to it. But now that she'd started, there'd be no stopping her. The dilation of her eyes, the flush of her cheeks, the blood engorging her lips and nipples. She was giving off every signal he knew. She was going to have him...

Kara turned her back to him and bent forward, a suspiciously convenient breeze flipped her red skirt up. Before her could get a good look at the rounded treasures beneath she was grinding her ass against his groin. “I’ll let you do anything to me... Anything. I want you to.” Her voice still so innocent, a girl mouthing the words without really knowing what they mean, no idea what 'anything' was code for. She clenched her butt cheeks, ripping the carbon fiber crotch out of his leggings with a single shrug of her rounded buttocks before she turned back to face him. She looked him deep in the eyes again before dropping to her knees before him.

“But after that, I’m gonna do everything I want to YOU!” When she said it, 'everything' was code for everything.

She took him in her mouth and started to suck. It wasn’t skillful, but it was certainly effective. It didn’t help Karen had wrapped her arms around his bare chest and was playing with his recently bared man-nipples like she knew a lot about teasing nipples. Hers were a pair of railroad spikes pressing into his back.

“My... Quarters.... Now.” He hissed through his teeth.

In a moment of sympathy for his dignity, Power Girl peeled Supergirl off of him and flew them both to his Spartan quarters in the blink of an eye. She even shut the door in deference to his human sensibilities. The humm of the Watchtower reactors dropped to less than a whisper. He had excellent sound proofing she realized, wondering what else he might have gotten up to in there.

Supergirl, now entirely naked, spread herself out on the bed, opening herself to him like a pale flower, its innermost petals pink with the hot blood pounding through her. Her clenched toes pointed like arrows at opposite walls of the room, her strong thighs spread wide enough to make even a cheerleader cry. Then unwilling to limit herself to Earth-girl levels of enticing, she floated three inches up off of the bed, defying artificial gravity as easily as she did the genuine article. She waited, offering herself and gazing at him longingly, but she wouldn’t wait long. The new hormones seething in her system wouldn't let her.

Still he held back. Pride more than any intellectual objection. In some ways pleased -- all of this was only happening because she trusted him. Trusted that he wouldn't ever hurt her...

Karen laid the heel of her palm against his tailbone fingers down, she slipped a finger into the crack of his ass, the last joint penetrating him with gentle but irresistible pressure. The tip of her finger vibrated inside him at the lowest note he could hear and in moments he was rock hard again, the muscles of his whole torso seizing with pleasure. Then using him like an oversized finger puppet, she slid him into Kara’s waiting loins.

The blonde sylph exploded into orgasm with the first plunge and Bats wasn’t far from doing the same. She grabbed her breasts and began mauling them, willing them to grow as she moaned, overcome by the feeling of his meat inside her at last. She came, and came, and came, and then sensing what it was doing to her body, to her TITS, she came again . Thankfully with her stamina, she could collide head-on with several million more orgasms and never need to stop. Super. Girl.

A small, detached part of Bruce’s mind duly noted Kara had already gained another 3mm. Fifteen seconds of coitus as effective as a week of masturbation, apparently. And as promised, her hips were widening. 'Remarkable, though early gains in any training regimen were often the greatest.' he thought, wrapping himself in cool logic as if he were watching the whole scene on a screen in the Batcave. A technique usually reserved for resisting torture. His body might be a cock-puppet in Karen's hands but his mind was his own. The Batman never gave in.

Power Girl’s lips were at his ear, whispering, “I’m not kidding Bats: you owe her. You owe her at least a dozen nights for your behavior when she first arrived. Make it right.” She continued to work his hips one handed while the slimmer Kara squealed in delight.

The older Kara felt his inconsequential but determined resistance fade. She’d gotten through to him. Obligation was something he understood. Reciprocity. He held up a commanding hand, signaling her to stop. He might be just a man and she a Kryptonian goddess, but even she ignored such instruction at her peril. This mortal had ended gods before. Karen trusted his gesture was simply a sign he'd become a willing partner and released him from her grip.

He slid sinuously out from between the cage of spectacular legs, slim and light, beefy and curvaceous. “We.” He slid off his gloves and began unbuckling his boots - all that was left of his costume now. “Will never speak of that again. The Batman is not a toy. Not even yours.” Naked now save for the iconic cowl, he reached into a closet, perfectly placed for maximum efficiency like everything in the stark room, and drew out a long black robe. It was like a piece of the night, without monogram or identification. Tens of thousands of dollars of the finest silk. An extraordinary extravagance for the relentless crusader and out of character with the grim warrior Karen knew him to be. Despite the color, it was something she’d never have guessed he owned. It seemed too soft, too decadent to belong to the Batman.

Draping it over his shoulders hid the worst of the scars on his arms and chest, while concealing nothing of the thickness of his broad pectorals, the cobbled power of his abdominals, or the flagpole-worthy length of his rigid penis, still slick with Kara's juices. He left the front open, untied.

Even Karen's breathing grew shallow at the sight. He was an awesome specimen of masculinity, an apex predator on a hundred different planets, she thought. The years and the wear only adding to his appeal. A worthy participant in her ‘little sister’s’ first real foray into Kryptonian womanhood. And what a first time it would be! Rao have mercy! Just the smells wafting off of Kara had her quivering. Kara's cells had to be fizzing, like deliberately shaking a can of soda before you opened it. At this rate no human was going to believe what she'd look like by tomorrow...

At last he slipped off the cowl, undoing even the most clever latches with long familiarity. A complex task that had cost many villains their consciousness and even their freedom for attempting.

He cast it to the ground, never taking his eyes off Kara. An ancient symbol of complete separation. And total commitment to the task at hand. If it had been a sword scabbard it would have signaled a duel to the death. He was that serious about what came next.

He ran his broad, powerful hands over his face, smirking briefly at the stubbly feel of the five o’clock shadow usually so completely concealed. For a moment he ruffled his cropped black hair, returning it to a more natural fall over his large skull. The most casual gesture Karen or Kara had ever seen him make. Even the legendary Batman got ‘cowl-hair’ it seemed.

In a flickering rearrangement in the tension of his facial muscles the years of wisdom, of mentorship, and hard-earned respect fell away and a softer, more pleasant man was revealed. A full grown man whose eyes still twinkled with boyish mischief. All but unrecognizable as being the same person despite the lantern jaw the two men shared.

“...However” A gentle, even kind voice went on. “I personally would like to apologize to you my dear. For past offenses. And to do everything in my power to bring out your... maximum potential. We have what? I’d say about 382 millimeters to go. We can try for another ten centimeters, right now. I mean, really make sure you have to throw out all your old bras, right? That is, if you're up for it.”

Kara just stared. Shocked beyond words. Was he... was he taunting her? "Oh, I'll SHOW YOU what I'm up for, buster!" she half-shouted, the fires in her loins burning hotter than ever now. 'Old bras' indeed! Like her puppies ever needed one to keep from sagging! She was gonna get so big she could drown that man in tit!

Power Girl snickered, watching Bruce throw Kara around with emotional judo as easily as he tossed most people with his hands. Then she realized he'd simultaneously been speaking to her, teasing that he’d eyeballed her bust to within a millimeter, maybe less. Rao's dangling nutsack! She KNEW Bruce had been ogling her same as the rest! The man just couldn’t resist showing off. He was working them both over, his revenge for her little challenge to his dignity. The bastard even smirked at her, having foreseen the exact moment she'd work it out. She growled. Now she wanted to fuck the smug out of him almost as bad as Kara was going to!

Then he was all over Kara, sprawled waiting on his bed, Bruce Wayne, the Billionaire Playboy truly in his element. His other life, something he sometimes neglected but never forgot. And in that life he certainly hadn’t overlooked the need to be a world class lover to support the rakish reputation: one of America’s most eligible and sought out bachelors. A life so unlike his dour alter ego... and far better equipped to render aid in this case.

Kara was in heaven. He was every bit as skilled as she’d imagined. More than she could have imagined, really. The things he was doing to her! As good as his willing and able dick felt inside her, what she concentrated on most was his hands. Those big paws of his, so quick and precise. She told him she was ready for 'anything', but she'd been so wrong! She accidentally burnt an arc up one wall and across the ceiling when he slipped two fingers there. And there. And --OOO!-- Yeah, there too.

For now his hand completely engulfed her breasts, but she knew, maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon he’d no longer be able to cover her breasts with them. Not even one of her great big beautiful tits using both hands if she had her way. She'd take him again and again until he made her a Superwoman...

As requested, Bruce Wayne fucked the "trim" and "slender" right out of Kara, working her body 14 kinds of hard. Techniques from the night clubs of L.A. to the heights of the Himalayas. It was a relentless pounding that would have broken the bones of even a strong woman like Talia. He was holding nothing back with a partner who was literally unbreakable. He slapped her ass hard enough to knock a man unconscious and couldn't even leave a palm print on her muscular white buttocks. He RAVAGED her creamy breasts, and she laughed as they only jiggled... And grew. He did his worst and it only made her better. Within minutes Kara was already looking more shapely, her hips betraying a new flare and an easy 10mm further around in the bust. He paused, as much to catch his breath as to allow her to do the same... only to find she went right on fucking him during his brief mental intermission. He realized just how focused he’d been in his duties: he’d entirely missed that Power Girl was hovering naked high in one corner of his bedroom, one breast to her mouth and the other hand attending to matters further south. Watching them rut with a kind of proud delight.

“Oh, I’m sorry. How rude.” His hips still rocking as Kara continued to apply her handful of simple moves. With an almost absentminded press of his palm into the hollow above her hips, he adjusted the youth's angle 2 degrees, always the mindful teacher. Kara went rigid, her eyes rolling back in her head at the sudden blast of sensation when the tip of his dick now plowed through her white-sun supercharged K-spot, indescribably more pleasurable than a young Earth woman's G-spot. Then she was moving again, a series of hard grunts bursting from her and covering half the room in frost.

At the same time Bruce reached out a gentlemanly hand as if to help Karen down from a high step. “Would you care to join us Karen?”

She reached out to take his proffered hand, not even bothering to wipe her juices from her own. He was about to get covered in them anyway. A super-lubricant unlike anything on Earth. “Why, Mr. Wayne... I thought you’d never ask...” She might enforce his repayment of debts owed as she saw them, but she’d never have imposed on him for her own gratification. It would be too easy for her to accidentally humble the human. But like a vampire invited across the threshold, she fell upon him with barely checked passion, her rising cries mingling with her twin's.

And that is how you make a Bat Sandwich.

Epilogue
Outside, Superman gently nudged the Watchtower back into its proper orbit. They were really going at it in there. At first he’d been scandalized listening in on their initial exchange in the dining hall from the shuttle bay. But he’d learned it was better to just trust the older Kara on matters of Kryptonian decorum... doubly so on ‘womanly issues’. There was no winning an argument with a woman who had changed your diapers. Truth be told, he’d never even heard of the ‘Birinees and the Buzzles’. He’d long come to suspect the there was a deliberate gap in the information contained in the files bequeathed to him in the Fortress of Solitude. No mention at all of sex, even historically. No... He was pretty sure Power Girl was right: his biological father had just been a complete prude. Certainly Pa Kent had shared a bawdy tale or two from his own teenage years. The man had been a wild stallion ‘til Ma had tamed him, to hear both them tell it.

Kal had gone outside hoping to respect their privacy (while also keeping the station from falling out of orbit as they bounced off the walls in a tangle). Even so, he could still feel their cries thrumming along the hull. J’onzz had just started laughing and hadn’t stopped as he’d taken over monitor duty. He’d made it very clear he thought Bruce had needed a good shagging more than even the normally timid Kara did. “The guy’s kinda... tense.”

With a boyish smile of his own, Clark resolved to get the elder version of his cousin to have a woman-to-woman chat with Lois. Who knew what surprises she might be able to pass along for the couple to share? Birinees and Buzzles indeed!

A work of erotic fiction (relatively safe for work). Any resemblance to anything or anyone in the real world is too much to hope for. You should definitely try the caviar.

Zoe floated in the water. Alone.

She often came back here in the stolen moments of her life. The black swans speaking among themselves from nearby but no longer welcoming her.

She let the water support her, not calling on her power to fly. She could still float in water so however her abilities worked, it wasn’t increased density. Zoe listened with her whole body, able to make out the shimmering patterns of ten thousand tiny ripples moving across the water, stirred by an erratic breeze. Keira had given her something special. A key that had unlocked many treasures. A debt still outstanding, and Zoe hated being in debt.

Zoe had it all now. Beauty, power, freedom. The satisfaction of her work. She fucked who she wanted. Took what she wanted. Ate where she wanted. And most of all kept a grip on her most important possession: her privacy.

Plus there was the fresh tingle of a possible romantic pursuit. Neil was so very cute...

It was super being super. She’d read the stories of course, the thousand fantasies of becoming super. The devastation that men and women wrought when they were freed from all restraint – including morality.

‘Why bother?’ she thought. That she could do any and all of those things for real now didn’t make her want to. Enslave the Earth? She didn’t have to have every cell re-written with Kryptonian DNA to think “Who fucking cares about ruling over a bunch of humans?” Only a human could be so self-centered as to think a real superbeing wanted to have a bunch of primates gazing up at her in fear and awe. She’d thought they were mostly detestable creatures long before Zod started raving in the darkest recesses of her mind. She might be idly curious what a city on fire smelled like but she was in no special rush to find out. If it was to be it would be. Super-strength? There wasn’t anything she wanted to turn over that she couldn’t have blown up before. No one she hated enough to murder she hadn’t done away with long before the night in the glass tube had made her a god. Humans and their tech were powerful enough to realize most of their fantasies already, it seemed. Zoe had realized her fantasies through that power. And while flying had been great at first, at the end of the day being surrounded by miles of empty air was actually pretty boring. She might crave solitude but she wasn’t willing to exile herself into the sky to get it. Only the destination matters when the journey to almost anywhere was only a matter of minutes for her now.

And superspeed... while she could accomplish the work of hours in moments she still had to actually do it, endure every moment of the drudgery in perfect inescapable awareness. Time didn’t go any faster to her: it was still an hour’s worth of mundane crap. She thought the ability to make an hour go by faster might be more useful, really. Because for the things she did want from life she still had to wait. You did not microwave the perfect meal. It took time. Time and skills she didn’t have. Like everyone else in the dining room she had to wait. (Though waiters that deliberately delayed her usually ended up a thin smear across a nearby building- she’d learned the hard way it was better to take them outside first...)’

She was just feeling bitter, and she knew it. Flying was amazing when she just did it for the pleasure of feeling 500 mile an hour winds trying to carve into her indestructible flesh. Super-speed allowed her to pull off countless vicious pranks and remain the innocent observer. She’d been shot, stabbed and crushed (to no effect) enough times to know she’d far outlived her unenhanced life expectancy as a top shelf agent. If there was anything wrong with her powers it was her. And the nagging possibilities of what came next. Where was Professor Ames's body...?

Human technology and specifically the new quantum sorcery... That was the real problem now. She had channeled a 75 year old myth though a few billion dollars worth of computers and come out... well, like this. Divine by any reasonable standard. But the most important part of any superhero’s origin is that it be unique. Irreproducible. Even a Million-to-One shot was too easy on a planet of 7 billion people.

Her origin was not nearly unique enough.

So she’d spent the last year hammering down any nails that looked like they were even close to sticking up and catching hold of the secret of her creation. And as powerful as she was she couldn’t just fly in and wreck them thereby proving they were on to something. No, she had to infiltrate, sabotage, ruin through seeming accident, corruption, or incompetence.

It had given her a lot to do. And a lot of pleasure doing it. Using her power when needed, but not exclusively. Neither the first nor last arrow in Agent Drew’s deadly quiver. There was no honor and even less glory in winning a table so slanted it might as well have been laying on its side. Her powers were a safety net, but calling on them meant she’d lost one of the few games left to her.

But the good times couldn’t last. She’d miss one eventually and then she’d be up to her ass fighting some kind of Thor or Susano-O or even another comic book character come to life. Fanboys often pitted characters from different stories against each other. Unlike the times when publishers dabbled in such fare, the more realistic clashes were short and one-sided. She had no desire to pit herself against some Maxwell Lord analog - the stories she inherited her powers from were quite clear on her vulnerability to mind control. And magic.

Or maybe some completely unexpected super-being would rise to challenge Zoe, slap her away as effortlessly as she might swat a bug. So many of the old legends spoke of the old gods being supplanted by the new. Like the old gods, she'd unexpectedly proven capable of passing on her gifts. The media had dubbed them "Furies". Women exposed to the Kryptonian hormones in Zoe's secretions changed. Most died, gurgling as their lips turned mottled black, the alien chemistry ravaging them like a poison. The ones that smelled the least like barnyard animals to Zoe... Sometimes their bodies would try to obey the instructions encoded in the exquisitely complex bio-molecules from a race tens of millions of years older than humanity. A cascade of sudden, brutal forced evolution. While those that survived held only pale shadows of her power, they were still far more than human. Most were wild, feral creatures after their metamorphosis, little more than beasts with the bodies of centerfold models and the strength of twenty men. The newborn superwomen fucked, ate, or tore apart anything in their path, only to be finally brought down by military-grade weapons within a day or so. Or whisked away by the most secretive of secret police. The emergence -- and final fate --- of each new Fury was a global spectacle, a wholly unexpected juxtaposition between celebrity worship and bio-terrorism. The later being a more apt description in Zoe's opinion, considering she usually created them to serve as living bombs, distractions and diversions from her own agenda in the region. And despite the always-grim conclusion to their rebirth, women still flocked to places where they hoped they might be exposed to the mysterious forces that created new Furies. Risking death or worse for the slim chance of becoming godlike, even for just a little while. Maybe some day one of her unloved 'daughters' would surpass and destroy her. That was almost a risk worth taking, just to see how it would go down.

Yes, the Furies were just one more sign that Zoe would not be alone for long. The fact that she existed meant more would inevitably follow. The universe is made up of only three numbers - zero, one, and countless. The distance between ‘zero’ and ‘one’ was a lot greater than ‘one’ and ‘countless’. In her that bridge had already been crossed.

Zoe's musing and the song of rippling water were interrupted by her phone, left back at the shoreline camp. Work was calling.

She swam to shore, her awesome strength giving her impressive swiftness without calling on her flight or superspeed. There was clean physical pleasure in it that she needed. Keira had reminded her of the satisfaction to be had in that too. Swimming pushed the dark thoughts back into the corners in a way flying never would.

She rose from the water like Venus, nude and magnificent before striding ashore to snatch up towel and phone. Her silhouette in the shimmering sunlight reflecting off the lake would have brought most men to their knees. There wasn't a force on Earth that could cause her up-thrust breasts to sag. She smiled, almost warmly: "The most common super power" indeed. Some clichés were more fun than others. She ran the decryption protocols and smiled at the new assignment. Wetwork. High value target, limited window, and fashionable apparel required. The “Salamander” had resurfaced and she was needed in Monaco, ASAP.

Her boss knew what she liked.


She lay in the dark. Alone.

For the third night running she'd woken up hours before dawn, energized like she'd had the most drawn out and luxurious sleep. Like she'd overslept the perfect amount and would feel great all day. Which she had, and today promised to be no different. In between the sheets she ran her hands over herself. She couldn't quite put her finger on what had changed. She was... smoother maybe? He skin seemed more silken. There'd certainly been room for improvement -- as much time as she spent in harsh pool water, smooth was not a term she'd normally apply to her skin.

There was one thing -- two actually -- she could put a finger on and she did, shivering. Her nipples had been hard non-stop since dancing at the club. At first she'd been concerned someone had spiked her drink, but when she'd stayed 'perky' through a second full night she knew there was something else at work that just a little friendly Ecstasy poisoning.

Keira was both excited and terrified. While nobody dared ask her directly, everyone suspected there had to be a connection between Los Angeles's very own ubergirl "Harmony" and the Furies that popped up here and there around the world. There were just too many similarities in their abilities... Once you got over the minor, trifling detail that Harmony wasn't insane. In fact Harmony and a second super-woman in Africa were really why so many women seemed willing to risk it all. For whatever reason, the rise of a new Fury was often heralded by inexplicable, seemingly spontaneous cases of male mutilation or rape. A guy on the street, usually in the prime of life and health, would simply explode in a shower of gore. Sometimes two or three off them. It was enough to set most men stampeding away at a dead run while sad, desperate, or just foolhardy women went rushing in. What followed was usually a collection of horrifying female corpses oozing black blood from their mouths and eyes and one woman abruptly swelling up with beauty and power... Then some kind of bad movie style showdown between a whole bunch of police who were in for a very bad day and a crazy woman who could pick up a car one-handed or pinch an ex-boyfriend in half with just her thighs. Some of them could even fly!

...And Keira was pretty sure it was happening to her. Slowly, which was hella weird. Because what little footage there was and all the internet lore agreed that Furies went from zero to OMFG! in about three minutes. Not three days (or more...?)

While flying would be awesome, Keira really didn't want to go bat-shit crazy.

She'd been terrified when she'd heard of the most recent outbreak in New York. Her step-brother could easily have been one of the men battered or even killed. He certainly fit the profile, in terms of age and good health. Instead he'd been right there when it had happened, a super-rare "Double Fury" outbreak. She'd seen him in one of the you-tube clips of the two women changing. He'd told her about seeing it, and that he'd probably have a job for her later that week.

Then a couple of days later Miss Swan waltzed into and back out of Keira's life before she started... well, started changing too.


The infiltration had gone smoothly. Her cover and Agency-provided documentation as impeccable as her off the shoulders green-&-gold dress. The Mediterranean villa had a commanding view of the sea and the harbor just miles down the coast. She’d circulated with the party goers, a mix of junior branch Euro-nobles and industrial tycoons. And their many, many ‘plus ones’. Even dressed up, there were women here whose grace and vitality were enough to give Zoe quite adequate camouflage. When men didn’t know which self-styled master of the universe she was attached to, they were more cautious in approaching her. The politics here were thick and layered. Playing the demure trophy wife was a game all its own, and she enjoyed the rare challenge where her transformation was a handicap rather than an advantage.

Her mark wasn’t the host, but the Salamander was surely here to meet with the lord of the household. Arms smuggler and political puppet master sealing the deal in person. Some human interactions just wouldn’t work over the internet. People wanted to look the other person in the eye, hear the softest sigh of breath, feel the connection... whether it was over a handshake or twisting the knife in deeper. The important exchanges were always face to face.

A few sultry whispers to staff, a dozen conversations overheard from across the room (super hearing isn’t cheating when you consider how powerful modern surveillance devices have become, Zoe reasoned), and she was confident she knew when and where the meeting would take place, there would be guards of course, but the fun was in flummoxing them without overwhelming force. Only the very best would shoot a beautiful woman in cold blood. Of course, the people here could afford the very best. Lots of them too. In fact, as she unlocked the heavy wooden doors to the third floor offices with a key stolen from the host’s head of security, she noticed the distinct lack of sounds from within. Were they meeting without guards? She wouldn’t have thought that level of trust existed between the principles, but then she wasn’t convinced the home office had the best intel on these particular troublemakers...

The outer office was empty except for the bodies of two bodyguards she had already made as part of the Salamander’s retinue.

The inner office was littered with half a dozen more bodies. Someone had thrown an exceptionally bloody party and had forgotten to invite her. The kills were all knife-work and she didn’t see any bullet holes in the walls to indicate the defenders had gotten a shot off. She was impressed.

She also was not alone.

Behind the imposing hardwood desk that dominated the room and might as well have been a throne for all the authority it represented, sat a tall powerfully built black man, flanked by two taller and more powerfully built personal security specialists. Not the owner of the villa either. That man was a distinguished, older example of pure Italian stock.

She was immediately struck by his features - almost painfully symmetrical and classically manly. The thickness of his close cropped black hair and carefully trimmed beard spoke of fine physical condition and a superior diet. If the desk were a throne then a king sat upon it. The weave of the orange sash he wore over his western business suit was so complex she began to get lost in it as she stared deeper and deeper into the pattern... She shook her head taking stock with her other senses. While there were fading scents of terror and blood from the bodies on the floor, those three men gave off not the slightest hint of fear as she finished entering the room. Their placement – clearly staged – told the story: they had been waiting for her.

The man gestured to the wine glass waiting for her on the edge of the vast desk. “Please. I don’t like to drink alone.” His voice was deep, melodious, and cultured. And while she could tell it was accustomed to giving commands, in this case the words were a genuine request.

She glided over to the edge of the desk, looking down at the beautiful crystal glass and the dark liquid gleaming within. It smelled excellent even over the blood. “I could... or I could just kill you and go back down stairs and enjoy the rest of my evening. Obviously my job is already done.” From this vantage she could now see the owner of the villa bound and unconscious behind the desk. He wasn’t on her list. His survival suggested the man in the chair knew that...

“Certainly true. Though you would regret it.” His voice was mild. To their credit the two bodyguards did not tense at the exchange of threats.

‘Oh, there were games being played here tonight,’ she thought. He might be mistaken, but he wasn’t bluffing. He thought he had some hold over her. Just finding out what that hold was would be worth a few minutes of her time.

She looked down at the proffered glass again. The entry fee for this game seemed quite affordable to her. She picked up the glass held it. The wine within smelled superb. To her surprise she couldn’t place it.

She tipped the glass as if to drink, then paused as if a thought had just occurred to her. “This whole thing is a set-up.” She could play her role too.

He smiled, and perfect white teeth flashed in the middle of that dark countenance. It was a predator’s smile - the kind that freed up the teeth to attack by getting the lips out of the way. She liked it immediately. “Well, yes and no. I brought certain information to your agency’s attention that there would be an opportunity to get to the Salamander. But I couldn’t make them send in ‘la belle du morté’. You did your part too. Once you arrived, then it became just a race to get here first.” He gestured to the corpses, “Arranging things so the rest of your evening would be free.”

“Ruining my fun you mean.” Her narrowed eyes made it clear she wasn’t kidding - he’d intruded on her undertaking and he owed her recompense for that.

He gestured to the fallen bodies. “Oh, this would have been no challenge for you! I’m much more interesting.”

That was true. She sipped the wine and her head snapped back in shock. While it would have been all but impossible to poison her, it was also nearly impossible to find something this good. It hovered in the empty spaces between a dozen of her favorites. Not better than the best but novel, a label she had never sampled before. The body filled with complex hints of... Her eyes narrowed in anger.

“You’ve been watching me.”

“Closely,” he agreed, sipping from his own glass before toasting her silently. It really was a wonderful vintage.

“One might view this,” she twirled the glass in a small circle by the stem, “As an invasion of my privacy.”

The guard on the right tensed. He wasn’t wrong to do so, but it was still a sign of weakness. The man’s eyes flicked to the guard and she knew he shared her assessment.

His eye returned to hers and he replied, “Or as a carefully chosen gift. Someone in your line of work must know that in this modern age privacy is a illusion. Governments track everyone now. Not just troublemakers or the newsworthy. Everyone is under the watchful eye. Even the deepest shadows offer only temporary respite. ...Is that what you want? I had thought to offer you adventure, but maybe what I should offer is a cloak...?”

Fucker was entirely too close to the mark. It was time to change the game. She turned and looked at each of the bodyguards in turn, indicating she was now addressing them and not their master. “Do you know why you’re here?”

The one on the right answered immediately. “We’re bodyguards, ma’am.”

“No, that might have been true downstairs, but he,” She gestured to the boss “knows full well nothing in this room could stop me from killing him. His sense of security comes from something outside this room... so why are you here?”

The one on the left, a big strapping Irish lad, red hair and freckles galore actually looked a bit paler as he thought on it.

“You’re on the right track I think. Tell me...” She purred.

He gestured to the bodies on the floor. “We’re them. We’re supposed to die trying.”

“Mmm. Muscles and brains. You’re close. Try again.

You could almost see the gears turning in circles... and the need to look away from your own impeding death deflecting him from the inescapable conclusion. She almost felt pity. Almost.

“He brought you to make it up to me that I haven’t gotten to kill anyone tonight.”

Both of them looked at their boss and his expression didn’t deny it.

“He wants to see me make a kill. And after this exquisite wine, I’m more than half inclined to indulge him. So lets’ play a game.” Her gaze was now entirely on the Irishman. “I’ll give you 60 seconds to give me pleasure. Fail, and you don’t just die, you die badly.”

The other bodyguard had picked up a very high-tech looking bullpup carbine with a long silencer from where it had be hidden behind a potted tree. But he didn’t raise it yet. The Irishman was sweating, but he didn’t go for a gun or for the knife strapped to his thigh. He looked at her appraisingly. He might not know her, but he knew the boss and his reactions well enough to believe every word of her threats. For whatever reason this whole stupid night had been set into motion he knew it wasn’t going to end with him stabbing her.

He took a step forward, his hands coming up as if he were considering taking hold of her shoulders. She didn’t give him any signals one way or the other that she would allow him to touch her. He drew back, uncertain and feeling the last seconds of his life drain away as clearly as if he were watching a hourglass. La belle du morté was going to kill him and he didn’t even know how or why. He turned back to his boss, to the other guard and in the process spied the desk...

He snatched up the open wine bottle and graciously refilled her glass.
“Oh, ho ho...!” She smiled as she took another sip of the rare wine. She looked at the man in charge. “This one needs a raise. I don’t care what you’re paying, it’s not enough.”

The man simply nodded.

She turned to the other guard. He was a bit sturdier, maybe Russian. He looked back, a fierce gleam in his eye. “yeah... No...” He shouldered the weapon and opened up on her from less than ten feet away.

She could have dodged it of course, but even the wine hadn’t paid for that tidbit of information about her powers. Instead she crossed her arms as if protecting her face and let the spray of bullets wash over her.

She let him empty the clip. The shiny ruched fabric around her torso was shredded. Zoe dropped her arms, hands seizing the bodice of the dress to rip it open in the classic Superman reveal.. only she hadn't bothered to put a costume on under her sheer dress. Zoe let him empty a second clip into her bared breasts, feeling them jiggle slightly with every impact. She sighed, seductively. Some clichés were more enjoyable than others. If she'd thought he'd done it on purpose, to please her, she'd have let him live, because it was quite pleasant feeling each slug shatter against her softness. Turning back and forth slightly in the spray of hot metal, it was no accident she caught more than a few rounds directly on a rigid nipple. She'd almost forgotten how much fun it was to get shot on purpose. But his savage grin falling into panic told her he'd still thought he was the biggest predator in the room. He'd given her no pleasure at all -- she'd had to take it, and his time was up.

She turned back to the would-be king, entirely unconcerned with her partial nakedness. “Watch closely. You paid enough for this show but there’s only one act. You too...” She nodded to the other guard looking a bit sick watching a small taste of the fated he’d narrowly avoided. “There will be no photography during the show.” She smiled, having just destroyed the 12 cameras hidden around the room with micro bursts of heat vision. The man’s expression fell, then became intense. Whoever was running his tech support was fast. He’d learned his cameras were out almost instantly.

Zoe didn’t walk around the desk. With a little hop she jumped out of the lower part of her ruined gown onto the polished wood, revealing her long legs fully as she slid over the desk to arrive directly beside the panicked gunman. he was still struggling to reload, his movements far more jerky the second time. She didn’t bother to disarm him. Instead she grabbed both his biceps and crushed the bones of his upper arms without hesitation or warning. The gun dropped to the ground with a clatter. As he started to slump to the floor screaming Zoe caught the back of his neck with one hand and crammed the fingers of her other hand in his mouth, muffling the cry and half choking him in a single move. It wouldn’t do to have him attract any more attention to their little gathering upstairs. He tongue and teeth were both equally powerless to dislodge her slender fingers as his scream caught in his chest. When the spasms of his torso indicated the scream had bled out into a whimper she pulled her hand out and let him blubber, wiping his drool off her hand on his tactical turtleneck.

She drew her hand back from the gunman’s face, forming a ‘gun’ with her hand, two slender fingers as the barrel. She pointed it at his forehead, still supporting the bulk of his weight with the hand around his neck.

It had been a silly movie in so many ways, but in that moment she was reminded of the blue alien in Megamind. The difference between a villain and a super villain is... SHOWMANSHIP! Knowing she had an audience that she might allow to walk away made using her powers fun again. Maybe she had been sticking too closely to the shadows...

“Bang” she whispered. There was a gun-like crack as her hand broke the sound barrier, fingers flicking forward with super-speed. Faster than any bullet, Zoe’s fingers dipped less than half an inch into his skull before returning to their exact starting position, a peck far too quick for the human eye to follow. Let her host puzzle over that without the benefit of high speed cameras!

The resulting shockwave was almost exactly like a bullet blasting grey matter and bone chips across the wall.

There were a dozen more things she could have done and in fact wanted to do to the body, but she’d given away about all that she intended to for one evening. Maybe a little more in fact. She could satisfy the craving to hear this fool's joints twist apart and his bones shatter at the lightest touch of her fingers on some other occasion. There were adults present and they deserved her undivided attention.

“Satisfied?” She asked, turning to the survivors. One was stunned, pale and seeing his life flash before his eyes, knowing how close he’d come to the same fate or worse. The other’s expression had barely changed, becoming hungrier, if anything.

“I think that’s what I should be asking you.” the maybe-king answered, eyes still examining the latest corpse in a room full of death. Meanwhile the Irish bodyguard was nodding vigorously, comically, almost like a large dog.

“Marginally.” She plucked a chair from where it was half covered by cooling bodies and set it in front of the desk. If the man behind the desk was a king, she too sat regal as a queen, seemingly oblivious to her nakedness. Not that she had anything to be ashamed of, her pale skin flawless and flush with sudden arousal. As she settled into the chair she eyed the last remaining guard. “Rub my shoulders,” She invited.

He leapt to obey as she turned back to the man behind it all. She was fairly sure that’s what he’d been about to try earlier and was curious to see what a man betting his life on a shoulder rub could do.

“What’s the offer?” She finally asked, as strong thick hands began to try to knead her smooth bare shoulders.

“My patrons recognize you have pressing duties. We’d like to purchase some of your spare time...

“You want me to moonlight for parties unknown.”

“Exactly.

Human fingers could only slightly dimple her silken superflesh, but the big lug adapted quickly, drawing designs of pressure on her muscles that were deliciously relaxing. “Mmmm. Nice. Work the neck too.” She gathered up her long blonde hair and pulled it forward over her shoulders, baring her neck while covering her boson in a thin gold curtain. Her eyes were half lidded but her finger pointed to the boss, “How do you propose to pay?”

“I was thinking further interesting gifts.” He gestured to the wine bottle. “Perhaps some unique opportunities. Maybe with hard to acquire information. And now that we’ve met, I’m sure I can dream up a few more attractive offerings. Unless you’d like to suggest an avenue to explore?”

“I’m a simple girl...”

He snorted. “Bullshit.”

She laughed. He’d watched her blow a man’s brains out with an imaginary gun, knew she was one of the top assassins in her Agency’s arsenal, and still he’d contradicted her to her face. She was starting to like him. “True, but hardly politic to say so.”

He visibly gathered up his dignity. “If you really want to dance, let’s go downstairs and dance. But surrounded by the silent dead I’d like to keep things mostly honest.”

She cocked her head. It wasn’t her philosophy, but it was a position she could respect. She looked up at her impromptu masseuse, seriously considering fucking him to death in the next few minutes. “You have a card and something to write with?” He didn’t disappoint. She wrote out a number and slid it across the desk. She then rose from the chair.

“I am officially considering your offer of employment. The offer to dance is accepted, though I’m without a decent dress thanks to your man’s incompetence. So that will have to be postponed. Call me when you’re ready to settle up on both accounts.” She pointed to the redhead. “And bring him with you.”

Relaxed and drunk on her power far more than on the wine, she strolled out onto the wide rooftop patio attached to the office and then dropped over a railing out of sight.

Connor, the surviving bodyguard, had the distinct impression of a firm kiss on the cheek as she disappeared. It wasn’t something he intended to mention in his debriefing.

But Jacob Cross teased the knowledge out of him anyway.

Hours later Bree would reluctantly have to agree costume parties were fun. At least when you had real superpowers to go with your costume! She’d been shocked by the turnout: there had to be at least six hundred people at the event. Who knew there were so many geeks around? She was also surprised when Sylvia asked her to not show off her strength. Sylvia was keeping her abilities under wraps too. “It wouldn’t be fair, at least until after the contest is over.” Sylvia’s definition of fair seemed a bit flexible to Bree considering how quickly their outfits had sprung into existence, but she didn’t quibble. Hiding her massive strength as she danced in a crowd turned out to be a brilliant game. ‘Maybe that's why ‘secret identities’ are such a thing?’ she thought. ‘The thrill of fooling everyone…’ Sylvia could have declared herself queen of the entire planet and here she was trying to not cheat on a costume contest!

While the were many, many people in costume, only twenty-five people would be competing. Each contestant or group had to walk across a large stage in front of the audience and the panel of judges. Once the trio had made their runs, things looked pretty grim for the rest of the cosplayers. Bree had no idea what she was supposed to do but she'd been watching the people in front of her from backstage, so when she reached the center of the stage she put a fist on her cocked hip and gave the audience a slow, sweeping 'hell if I care' glare. Apparently that was what they were waiting for from "Miss Jones" because they roared with approval. Sophie couldn't carry the whole 'sultry super-spy' attitude if you put it in a paper bag for her, but she could do some dazzling acrobatic twirls and flashy-fake movie kung-fu. Backed by that oh-my-god-you're-pretty smile, she was an instant hit. Then there was Sylvia. In a white-gold gown fit for a queen. Giving the audience her all.

Less than a dozen people had to be escorted to the infirmary for chest pains after Sylvia strut her stuff. Need I say more?

But Sylvia's tour de force didn’t stop the parade of talent and the cheering for each soul brave enough to share their dreams. Seated back in the audience now and seeing how these things were done, Sophie insisted that next time she come as Supergirl, blonde wig and all to go with Sylvia’s Power Girl as a group. And that they had to do a skit! So she could show off her powers just enough to make the judges wonder. Sylvia rolled her eyes but didn’t see how she could say ‘no’. She finally caved in to Sophie’s whispering demands just to get her to shut up so she could focus on her peers on stage. She’d created a cosplay monster.

More than one, actually. It had been such a great turn out Sylvia had wanted to make it THE night to remember. Really celebrate becoming a goddess. She’d been picking and choosing carefully, a contest within the contest with her making up the categories as she went along. She decided to limit herself to just three lucky lady demigods to join in the fun. She’d been struck with the idea when Evvie had strode out onto the stage, a girl noticeably more plump than even Sophie had been. Sylvia knew Evvie from several past gatherings: she did an awesome Ursula the Sea Witch, a character for whom her extra pounds were no handicap. Tonight she reaching way outside her weight class with a smoking hot purple Catwoman bodysuit. Kitty ears, long black boots and gloves, and a real bullwhip. Lots of attention to detail for such a simple design. The only thing short of perfection was Evvie herself. She couldn’t quite pull it off, but by God she had chutzpah. While she cracked her whip and threw out cheesecake poses the part of audience that appreciated craftsmanship over a slender frame cheered all the more. Sylvia had spirited her away almost the moment she’d come off the stage and “awarded” Evvie into blissful unconsciousness. Along with a miniature tornado of mind-blowing sex, the prize for ‘bravest cosplayer’ included a supermodel body that no longer needed a corset to pull off the hottest catwoman imaginable. Oh, and Evvie had also gotten a big enough jolt of superpowers that this particular Catwoman could skip cracking safes and just fly away with the thing tucked under her arm after tearing it out of the wall. Any Batman that tangled with her was in for a super rude surprise.

After that first impetuous gift, she’d scolded herself, determined to wait until the presentations were actually over before she started handing out more superpowers willy nilly. She might have overdone it with Evvie, but she'd always been really welcoming every time Sylvia had crossed paths with her. She figured the worst that could happen was some ass-hats that used to make fun of her weight would find themselves hung up in a tree somewhere. Which would be making the world a better place as far as Sylvia was concerned.

Towards the middle of the show she’d singled out a basic but cleanly executed Jedi couple for ‘best newcomers’ because you always wanted to encourage the new players to come back. Her delicate Asian features perfectly complimenting the pseudo-Japanese styling of her sci-fi robes. Her long white hair was a rippling flag that left Sylvia lost in a maze when her telescopic vision kicked in. It wasn't a wig, but it must have been dyed because nobody could really have hair that color, did they? The woman also had wonderful, delicate footwork that made Sylvia’s breath catch just to watch her bound around the stage like a deer while whipping her lightsaber around her body. She might be new to cosplay, but she definitely knew her swordplay. It looked like she'd been doing kendo since she was a kid. Sylvia was sold. That and her grinning boyfriend looked like he’d respond well to a plot twist where his graceful apprentice suddenly became his sexy master. "Only a master of hotness, Darth." Sylvia giggled. Yeah, she was gonna be strong in more than just the ways of the Force when Sylvia was done with her. Lift an X-wing one handed? “There is no try…” She whispered, even as she clapped for the couple.

There should have been just one more winner in Sylvia’s private contest, but when a pair of actual twins took to the stage in matching outfits as Good Supergirl/Evil Supergirl that rule went right out the window. While their faces were little more than average, their costumes were superior. They’d gone with the new movie style: glistening ‘chainmail’ fabric, lots of molded detailing that accentuated their narrow waists, and pleated skirts draped over pleasantly full hips. If it had been just one Supergirl she might have passed. 'I mean, making a Supergirl super is just a bit on the nose, don't you think?' But taken together they dominated the newly invented ‘yeah, but that’s just too fucking hot not to’ category. They'd earned a two-for-one group discount.

Once the judges withdrew for voting on the official contest, things turned into more of a regular party. Sylvia absconded with her lucky winners and started handing out the prizes, beginning with the twins. The fact that she loved having both tits sucked at the same time almost certainly having nothing to do with casting them for the 'extended edition'. Plus she may have gotten distracted by watching them grow. Any concern for their plain faces was washed away: tighter facial muscles and an absolutely flawless complexion did covereth a multitude of sins. As the silvery light inside her flowed into them, she'd only meant to bump their strength up to about five times normal and allow them to hover around a bit. Oops. Oh well. The difference between five and ten times their normal strength wasn't that big. They'd still have to work together to pick up a car. They'd also be more 'bullet resistant' than bulletproof. None of the winners would be getting unstoppable supervillainess-class upgrades. She wasn't going all out on people she'd only just met even if they were cosplayers, her peoples. Nobody who could sew like that was inherently evil!

But if those two got double the mojo she'd intended, well that just meant she needed to take her time with the Jedi too, right? Fair's fair. With her physical grace, Sylvia thought the Jedi was already one of the loveliest women there tonight. Why dial that up to eight when you could go to eleven? Maybe fourteen... Bad Sylvia, bad! Twenty then? Yeah, dials should go to twenty. Besides, there should be a grand prize right?

Even as the sex-stunned twins became gorgeous demigoddesses and Sylvia's rationalized her way to a truly powerful disturbance in the Force, Sophie was wandering the main floor. She was largely baffled by the effects of her own beauty. She had probably 40 slips of paper with phone numbers tucked into the copious tactical pockets of her spy costume as she ambled through the milling crowds, smiling and chatting innocently with anyone and everyone who worked up the courage to approach the beautiful but deadly Black Widow. She'd been to a costume party with Sylvia once, but it have been tiny compared to this, and she'd been far less noticeable then.

Bree’d had a few propositions herself but her performance earlier had scared off most of the lightweights. She'd already set her sights on a truly massive slab of meat in a suit of real metal armor. She’d spotted her knight almost as soon as they’d arrived. After the awards she was going to tear that armor off him piece by piece, then climb him like a mountain. To make up for wrecking his flimsy suit, of course. ‘What? You say that’s not tin foil? Sure feels like it to me,’ she thought to herself, clenching her hands as she anticipated the conquest. He was passably handsome, but mainly she wanted somebody big enough and strong enough to really appreciate what being vastly outclassed by her softest touch meant. He’d either love it, be terrified of her, or both and channeling her inner Jessica Jones at that moment, she didn’t give a damn which.

If Bree created currents in the crowd and Sophia was a small whirlpool, Sylvia stalked among the many attendees like a hungry T. Rex – nine tons of the biggest predator to ever walk the Earth, on the prowl and looking for MEAT. Sylvia would locked eyes with an appreciative young man in or out of costume, discretely drawing him to her on the patio at the back of the hall. Bree’d gotten worried when she kept coming back in alone, looking almost comically pleased with herself.

Bree tried to follow the next youth to succumb to her siren charms, but quickly lost sight of the pair. Walking into the gardens beyond the patio, she turned up a whole collection of passed-out men. They were laid out neatly in a secluded corner behind a fountain, each with the goofiest look on his face and hips still weakly humping the air as they dozed. There were rather more than she’d counted leaving with Sylvia. Power Girl had been busy getting busy.

There were a couple of women too, but they were all in costume. Superhumanly hot women, Bree realized. Not nearly so blessed as her mega-babe roomies but still impressive. One white haired beauty was entwined with a guy in a matching Star Wars costume and Bree thought she’d seen them together on stage earlier. She hadn’t been nearly as tall or sexy on stage...

“Oh Sylvia… What have you done!” she gasped more in amusement than real shock. She thought she heard Syliva’s distant laughter, high overhead answering her. The leggy bombshell in the skintight ‘sexy cat’ outfit had a costumed Batman tucked in one arm and a Spiderman in the other. Probably some joke there she was missing. While she was checking the pulse of the nearest body just to be sure things were still all fun and games, Sylvia dropped silently out of the sky, spread another drowsey conquest out on the grass at the end of the row, and then winked at Bree saucily before strolling back inside, the killer dinosaur looking to scarf down its next ‘happy meal’.

When she’d first found the pile Bree had thought her roomie had just been being polite to her discarded lovers, but looking again at the four not-exactly-average women sleeping in the middle of the mass she started to chuckle. Sylvia was building a nest for her baby birds. They'd wake to find they had incredibly tight, sexy bodies right out of their fantasies. She was just guessing, but going by her own experiences she kind of expected the four ladies would come to horny as hell. The guys sprawled around them might still be lusting after Sylvia in their fevered dreams, but they’d better learn to make do. Because their insatiable new playmates were gonna be way more than just a handful, and she didn’t mean their breasts. Sylvia had almost certainly given them powers too. Generous to a fault.

Bree looked more closely at the two remaining girls and almost fell over. "Oh come on, Sylvia… Supergirl-costumed TWINS? That just ain’t right…" She only had herself to blame though: she’d insisted Sylvia share. The identical sisters had been posed on their sides, back-to-back like a 3D mirror. Long smooth thighs lifted their red and black mini-skirts until the muscular globes of their flawless super butts were on full display, pressed against their sibling’s matching spheres in a cluster bomb of high power boo-tay. The sleeping “Supertwins” had groped around until they’d found guys snoring in arm’s reach and pulled two lucky bastards right up to their extravagant chests like they were cuddling teddy bears.

Bree snorted. Those guys absolutely no chance of escaping that dainty iron grip. They were gonna wake up from sex with Power Girl to a face full of overstretched ‘S’ logo. She really wanted to watch the drama unfold as four sex-starved uber girls woke up in an all you can eat man-buffet. But she still had some armor to wreck and a mountain to climb. Then she expected and required her great big husky knight to bang her like a screen door in a windstorm. She couldn’t let Sylvia have all the fun, after all.

Suffice it to say a lot of people were having a super night.

But destiny is a horny little minx. Probably why it liked Sylvia so much.

Sylvia was so proud of her display of self-control and feeling so clever about the little 'winners circle' she was building out back that she wasn't nearly paying attention to what she was doing inside the hall. Looking over her shoulder trying to spot Sophie, she walked right in to someone. Sylvia's superbody claimed right of way and the victim tumbled to the floor like she'd been hit by a loaded mine cart. Sylvia rushed over and pulled her to her feet, nearly forgetting to not use her superspeed she was so embarrassed. She started to apologize in a garbled rush of words before she did a double take, still holding the girl's hand.

She was a staggering beauty. The kind you said a little prayer to all the spirits of needle and thread when one deigned to join the mere mortals in playing dress up. The kind you wanted to wrap up in a hundred hours of your work and see how good your craft could really look. She had incredibly long straight blonde hair, but it was no wig. Her locks flowed down over a pale elfin face that Sylvia would have killed for only that morning. Like, actual murder. From the top of her slender neck down she was clad in a skin-tight blue bodysuit that showed off a long lithe figure that made Sylvia suddenly doubt that she was the prettiest woman here. Sexiest certainly, but maybe not prettiest. Sylvia felt her geek credibility slipping away as it took her fuzzy brain long moments to recognize the darker blue geometric markings. Not Evangelion. Cortana? No, that's not right. D. Va? Why couldn't she identify it?!

Seeing her confusion, the girl silently raised Sylvia's hand like they were dancing and twirled beneath it once, still never letting go. Letting her work it out for herself with no hints or clues but the details of costume itself. As the pattern of pink lights across her back came into view Sylvia had it at last. Ah! Samus Aran. The Zero Suit if she hadn't gone completely stupid. No, wait! She'd combined both versions of the Zero suit into an incredible hybrid that had inherited the best qualities of both its parents. A custom job that truly evoked the essence of the character. Here was a master cosplayer after her own heart!

Friends had encouraged Sylvia to have a go at Samus Aran months ago, being one of those heroines less demanding in the bust department, but looking at the softly sinuous wave that ran from this woman's shoulders to waist, hips to knees, she realized she'd never have done it justice. 'Not like you!' Sophie's earlier cry of adoration echoed in her mind.

"I'm really sorry to have bumped into you." Sylvie belatedly offered. Feeling more and more like her old awkward, horny self.

The young woman clasped her slack hand tight and gave her an incredibly regal nod in conjunction with half curtsey. She seemed complete unfazed that Sylvia towered more than foot over her. In fact the difference in their size was so dramatic if it had started raining she could have taken a step closer and ducked her head to stay completely dry, sheltered by Sylvia's rack.

"No, no. My bad. Really, I'm ashamed I let you sneak up on me like that. Everyone's talking about you! Karen Starr, The Power Girl, and in Adam Hughes Style because my God why wouldn't you? You do it so well! You're gonna win first prize tonight." The girl gushed enthusiastically, her smile warming Sylvia the way a certain silvery nugget had. Then she smirked conspiratorially at Sylvia. "But you already know that."

Sylvia could hear the girl's heart pounding furiously. Kind of like her own heart was.

"Only because I'm not competing against you!" Sylvia assured her magnanimously, still trying to catch her breath. She looked her up and down again, wanting to burn the sight into her retinas. The more Sylvia looked, the more there was to see. The suit was actually made from three different materials, giving it strategically different degrees of shine and texture. The center panel in the front was faintly translucent, letting you just barely perceive the play of light and shadow over the inner flanks of her all natural B-cup breasts. Karen hadn't used a scrap of foam padding at all.

"How...? Why weren't you up there?" she demanded. flicking her chin at the stage. Silently she added '...because you'd already be a god by now if you had...' Out loud she went on: "I mean, your costume is amazing!" Gazing at her, Sylvia had the feeling everybody had missed out on something special. Well, ok, maybe the twins had gotten the better part of the deal, because this girl would have bumped them off the top of the 'just too fucking hot not to' list easily. You had to have nerves of frozen steel to wear that in public, and Karen's creation had gone way past ordinary levels of enticing. That stitching! Her outfit was so absolutely close-up ready. It made Sylvia want to inspect her very close up.

"I can't. My dad's one of the judges." She made a soft little pout and suddenly Sylvia just wanted to scoop her up and turn that frown upside down. And maybe inside out. The look of disappointment vanished in a flash, burned away by a cheery disposition that could not be extinguished, even by a twist of fate that had unknowingly cost her superpowers. She looked up at Sylvia's big blue eyes. "Hi, my name's Karen too. Not Starr though. Karen Knight." Then with that same courtly grace she lifted Sylvia's hand to her lips. Sylvia expected her to kiss it, but instead Karen's red tongue darted out and licked Sylvia, tasting her.

"Sylvia Shannon..." At least she'd manage to get her own name right! Wow. It was like meeting your sexy evil twin. Or maybe Karen was the good twin, because Sylvia was thinking very wicked thoughts just then. Twenty-four hours ago if she'd met Karen she'd do anything to get into her good graces and hang out. A day later pretty much nothing had changed. Other than that Sylvia had a lot more to offer. But what?

Karen released her hand, mostly so she could run both of hers down over her body, smoothing out any wrinkles after her tumble and making Sylvia's eyes bulge out at the same time. "I'm just glad somebody as good at this as you are likes it. I was really pleased with how it came out. There is just one problem with it though..." She put a hand flat on the top of her head then lifted it up to almost even with the top of Sylvia's head, measuring the difference in their heights. "She's supposed to be six-foot three. I'd have to stand on box to be that tall!" Her laugher was apparently hot enough melt steel, because Sylvia's loins were liquefied.

Sylvia nearly blurted out "I can fix that!" The universe was just egging her on, now. She felt like Destiny had walked up and Gibs-smacked her on the back of the head. "You missed one, dummy!"

Realizing she had to say something, she searched for any clue what would please Karen. Cosplayer, sure, but she obviously also liked sci-fi... So maybe...

"Hey... Do you want to fly to the moon?" Sylvia asked timidly. It might be a terrible pick up line, but it wasn't a metaphor. Sylvia was so turned on by this girl she was about ready to blast into orbit. That Karen wasn't already flying through space under her own power right now was a crime against... against something. Sylvia's brain wasn't working quite right. Apparently she'd just walked into a great big friendly blob of her personal Kryptonite. Shiny bright blue kryptonite.

'Samus' looked her up and down with an appraising eye that made Sylvia want to puff out her chest just a little bit more. Made her want to look down and check if she'd let one stitch fall out of place during all her roughhousing tonight. Damn it, those narrowed searching eyes made her want to be better that she already was. Which was nearly impossible.

Then the smile was back, revealing that any hesitation or harsh judgment on Karen's part was just a joke. "With you? Any time. How about now? You busy?"

That was all the informed consent Sylvia was going to wait for. 'Self-control' and 'a three prize limit' could die in a fire. Actually, they already had. The pair of costumed beauties vanished in a blast of wind that wasn't any kind of accidental use of superspeed.

Sylvia delivered them into to an elevator car that had been closed for maintenance. She'd scouted it out an hour ago, thinking she might need somewhere private without actually leaving the building.

Karen didn't even ask, entirely unconcerned the world had flickered around her, all her focus on Sylvia. Instead of small talk like 'gee, you're fast', she reached up to put a hand on Sylvia's shoulder and with all the agility her sleek body implied she lifted a foot up onto one of the elevator's hand rails like a dancer stretching. Swiveling her hips between those two fixed points she was able to swing her whole body up so she was actually looking down on Sylvia, ready to do push-ups on those broad, powerful shoulders. Her arms bent, lowering her face to kiss the taller girl on the lips.

Wondering which one of them was more crazy, Sylvia felt Karen's tongue darting around in her mouth like a fish, probing and poking the lurking shark that was her stronger-than-steel tongue. Karen's tongue pulled back, startled, and Sylvia could taste the faintest trace of blood.

Karen's face lifted away as she straightened her arms. "Hah! Didn't need a box that time! And wow, your tongue is rough." Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and Sylvia saw see one side was a darker pink were it had brushed hard against her own. "I bet you could..." Karen's eyes narrowed with naughty glee.

Almost without warning Karen sprang off of the handrail, her folding knees trapping the narrowest part of Sylvia's wasp waist so she could kneel on the bones of Sylvia's wide hips. Meanwhile she'd pulled her torso forward and up with her arms until she was pressing one of her breasts right in Sylvia's face, her flat abdomen wrapped forward around the costumed Power Girl's rather expansive front lawn.

Even with superspeed Sylvia had her hands full just trying to keep up. What was Karen thinking?!? That move would have sent anyone else crashing to the floor, probably breaking an arm and a leg along the way.

"Ohh, Sylvie! Lick my little breasts. Right through the suit! Lick and lick and lick and set my titties free!"

Sylvia's laugh was muffle by sweater meat. Karen's breasts weren't that small, if you didn't try to compare them to hers. She'd certainly put her breasts in enough faces lately she couldn't rightly complain. But as much as she wanted taste Karen's freely given body and lick her tiny nipples until they were raw, she couldn't bring herself to ruin that beautiful costume.

Sensing her dilemma Karen whispered, "Just wreck it. I'll make another. I want to feel your tongue all over me... in me..."

"Yes, ma'am," Sylvia purred, finally clear on who was going to lead, for now.

Sylvia burrowed into Karen's breast, wearing away the costume until a pale crescent of white flesh was revealed. Tearing through fabric and vinyl without scouring the bright pink nipple beneath took exquisite control that helped remind Sylvia just how awesome she'd become. Karen crowed, "I knew you were the real thing! As soon as you stepped on that stage, I knew it. Ooohhh! That's so good! Now the left." More of the costume disappeared.

Having taste-tested both sides, Sylvia was about to inform her that she was 100% delicious when Karen spun around her torso again like some sort of judo master or maybe a python, forcing Sylvia to grab her before she fell head first... and not so accidentally pulling them both into a standing 69.

Moments later Sylvia was the one being taste tested and all signs were Karen thought she was delicious too. But Karen wasn't done yet. Still inverted with Sylvia's arms clasped around her middle, she started to spread her legs, doing the splits wider and wider until her toes brushed the opposite walls of the elevator car, her blue-clad crotch square in Sylvia's face.

Sylvia was as overwhelmed by Karen's acrobatics as she was at the smell of sex right under her nose. Karen's buttocks tightened and her plump nether-lips surged forward to boop Sylvia on the nose as if to say 'I'm right here, silly. Hurry up, already!'

'Good grief,' Sylvia thought 'This girl doesn't even have superpowers yet and she's already kicking my ass at sex!'

"Ok, you crazy rabbit... Time to level the field. And I mean burn everything to the ground. Prepare to be destroy- oh, fuck! That tickles!" So much for her big 'I'm a superhero and you're not' speech: Karen's tongue was very distracting.

Still, she was the one with superpowers. Time to lead. Sylvia's feet left the ground and she curled around Karen the same way the smaller girl had wrapped her body around Sylvia until they were one big levitating tangle of long limbs and blonde. Karen had a hell of a head start working Sylvia into a wailing orgasm but still it only took Sylvia a whole ninety seconds of Tongue-Zilla rampaging through Karen's inner Tokyo before Karen had screamed herself hoarse with pleasure. The city's G-spot district would never recover from the devastation left behind by the slick pink monster's attack. Then Sylvia abandoned all pretense of being limiting to human sex and gave Karen a solid minute of full contact goddess-grade pleasuring. Not just for Karen's sake, but so she could finally TOUCH every part of Karen's sweet body with hands that had been aching to do so since she'd first pulled the girl back to her feet.

Karen had drifted into euphoric unconsciousness but Sylvia kept it up another minute just to be sure she wasn't playing possum. Something told her this girl was tricksy.

Karen woke up cradled in Sylvia's arms, the two of them laying on the elevator floor together. With a gentle finger Sylvia turned her chin so she could look in her eyes. She started to speak but Karen cut her off.

"Best. Elevator Sex. Ever. And I don't think we even changed floors, did we? I didn't see you press any buttons. ...on the elevator, anyway..." Her hand lifted to cup her bare breast and she let out a moan of remembered pleasure.

Sylvia burst into giggles, unable to concentrate on the 'serious business' she'd meant to be the tone for this conversation. But eventually she managed to stop Karen from tickling her and making her laugh too hard to speak. Strangely, for all her exuberance, Karen seemed to know exactly when to stop playing and listen. Another way she was just perfect.

"Karen? I want you to, well, to suck my breasts. It'll give you powers." Sylvia almost whispered. She knew something was up, because this was the first time she was asking instead of just doing. Karen had claimed a little corner of her heart. Or a birdhouse in her soul. She always got those mixed up.

"Like yours?" Karen asked, thoughtfully skipping past suspicion and disbelief.

"A little. They're different for everybody, I think. But usually like mine."

"I'll be able to fly?"

"Like an angel."

"Hah! Then I'll tickle you with my feathers!"

"Maybe you will. Because I've gotta warn you. It'll change your body too. Into whatever you want, hopefully."

"That part I guessed."

Sylvia's head jerked back slightly. "Really?"

"You can't have always looked like this, right? You're something out of a dream. Believe me, I'm not afraid of looking more like you."

"I don't think you're afraid of anything."

"Boop!" Karen reached up and booped her on the nose with a wink. "Just promise me one thing."

"I... If I can." Right now she'd do anything for this girl. She realized this must be what Bree's day had been like, thinking you're the hero in your own story and then finding out your role was chiefly to pass along this wonderful power to the next amazing soul. This was going to be Karen's best day ever as much as any of them!

"Promise you'll always let me go. No 'good bye's, just 'until next time'." Then she snuggled around in Karen's arms until she was able to put her head to Sylvie's breast. Waiting for an answer.

"I will. I promise. ...But why?" They were so good together.

"I'm all turbulence. The wind and the rain. A great reason to stay inside and drink hot cocoa." She reached up and laid her hand on Sylvia's chest, above her breast where she could feel the beating of Sylvia's powerful heart directly against her palm. "You're the sun. You shine so brightly people will need to see you. It's better if clouds like me come and go." Then she dipped her head forward and took her Sylvie's nipple in her mouth and began to suck.

Definitely a bird house in her soul.

This time when Karen's head snapped back, it put a crater in the wall panel. Had she thought fifteen times stronger was a good limit? Because right now there wasn't anything Sylvia wanted more than to feel Karen's tongue inside her again a hundred times stronger! No a thousand! She clutched Karen's head with unspoken need and pulled it deep into her breast. At the same time Sylvia reached down into the galaxy inside her. Where she'd fed the other girls at the masquerade maybe a star or to, and had given her roomies whole constellations to round out what the fictionite had already done, this time she ripped off a whole spiral arm and crammed it into Karen's lovely, waiting body. Filling it with power second only to her own. So much power that even she was slightly diminished by the offering. All that she could give, really.

The reaction was immediate. This 'Samus' might not be able to roll up into an armored ball, but there were several parts of Karen that were becoming much more spherical. Dammit. Overdid it again! Another non-canon XXX character. Another heroine remade by the artist's love of sexy womanly power. What was the world cumming to? -er, coming to.

As power like no other filled Karen, she actually started to glow. Her swelling body lifted into the air balloon-like. Starting at the toes and working towards her blissful face the same way Sophie's had. But where Sophie had clung to Sylvia by the lips, Karen drifted away in silent exultation, her long limbs taking the pose of the Spirit of Ecstasy, lifted by an unseen wind in the middle of the elevator car. Another of Sylvia's fleeting desires made manifest. Was Karen made for her? Or her for Karen? Was all her good fortune just a piece of some Rube Goldberg device that was ever and always destined to make Karen the Goddess she deserved to be?

And again unlike her roommates, Karen was a seamstress. Her blue costume was rebuilding itself before Sylvia's eyes. Sylvia had left it in tatters but now slick blue material flowed up her body like she was sinking into a pool of perfect costume. Every thread formed from her azure glow, the whole outfit was as invulnerable as the wearer herself. It filled Sylvia with same surprised pleasure as seemingly everything Karen did. Here was one of her most dearly held wishes she'd missed. Maybe Karen could make one for her!

"Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" Karen opened her eyes and arched her back, letting out a great long sigh of pleasure, like emerging from a hot bath. Surprising Sylvia again when she didn't immediately inspect herself. She simply trusted Sylvia's embrace would make her perfect. Karen wondered if she still had twins on the brain: Karen's body was nearly a match for her own. Only more liquid, her curves slippery and more graceful, retaining that sinuous line that had told her self-control to go take a long walk off a short pier. She had a wider waist and narrower hips, but that just added to the sense the she was a flowing river, a dancer to Sylvia's athlete. Karen wouldn't need to stand on a soap box for them to see eye to eye any more, either. She was envy-of-amazons tall too. Perfect for Sylvia to press against her from lips to ankles...

"What now?" Sylvia asked, truly at a loss for what came next. Other than her roommates, she'd never intended to stick around and face the consequences of her infectious good fortune. Still, just sitting and looking at Karen for while seemed like a promising start.

"Well, I think the best thing right now is that you get back out there and get ready to receive you award."

That made sense, but she noticed the emphasis on 'you'. "What about you?"

"I think I'm gonna take you up on your original offer. But I promise I'll find you after."

Before Sylvia could puzzle out what that meant, Karen cupped her breasts in her hands and began rubbing them in circles, going faster and faster until any top but hers would have torn to sheds and then caught fire. "Oh... Oh... Oh.... OOHH!" Her whole body was coiling in now as she gathered every iota of power and strength at her command. A shimmering haze surrounded her, sparkling with rainbow glints of light.

Wait... What had she said to Karen at first? She'd been so smitten she could hardly remember.

"Aaaaannd YEEESS!" Karen crowed with joy, the aura of light unfolded in the a maze of crystalline light, sketching wings in the air around her.

Suddenly she was gone. The top of the elevator disappeared in a focused explosion that had broken glass, frizzy elevator cables and the occasion structural beam that had torn loose, all following Karen up through a second hole she'd blasted through the top of the elevator shaft. The lengthening string of debris was failing in its chase as the shimmering blue streak made a mad dash for the upper atmosphere, the shockwave of Karen's multi-Mach orgasm punching circular holes in the clouds.

"Oh, right. You're gonna fly to the Moon." She slapper her own forehead with a meaty 'whack!' that probably would have felled a good sized tree. "D'uh." Then Sylvia wondered how long that would take, because she missed her already.

"Until next time, Karen Knight." She whispered and wondered if goddesses were still allowed to cry.
When the judges finally reappeared a certain sow-like Gina got to spend the rest of the evening looking utterly scandalized: “Adam Hughes Power Girl” had won best costume by universal acclaim, with “The Deadly Black Widow” taking second and “Jessica Jones, PI” a solid third. A clean sweep for Sylvia’s creations. And really, no one had ever seen a better Power Girl. Sylvia’s victory smile was so radiant some of the men actually looked at her face. Occasionally. The cheering would have been louder, but Sylvia had noticeably thinned the herd and her biggest fans were outside sleeping it off in the arms of four angels.

As the standing ovation continued Sylvia was the only one who could hear the fun starting in the garden over the applause. Sylvia's 'grand prize' winner had woken up and despite a mound of willing partners eager to please, her attention was focused solely on the young man she'd arrived with. That heroic would-be Jedi knight knelt with one knee to the cool grass before the curvaceous dream girl that had replaced his lovely girlfriend. With solemn playfulness he inquired, “What is thy bidding, my Master?”

The white haired and very buxom Jedi-girl merely flicked her fingers at him, ripping his robes open without even touching them.

He just smiled as he felt the wave of Force pass over him, ruffling his hair. He had to be dreaming because the blonde angel he'd glimpsed coming at them before he'd passed out couldn't be real. And now there was a horny nymph with Kim's face standing over him, pushing him down onto his back while she adjusted her long slit dress. Clearly about to jump his bones. Pushing the long train of her costume to one side she dropped to her knees, her firm calves tickling his flanks before she settled her perfect butt cheeks on to his fully erect Shwartz, sliding him into herself with an ease the real Kim had never managed. Possibly because she'd never been so wet or eager before. Or tall. Well as tall as he was, he guessed. Hard to say from the ground. The whole time they'd been together he'd been almost too big for her and now dream Kim swallowed him whole without pause or complaint.

Kim saw his bemused expression as her slippery warmth engulfed him and knew what he had to be thinking. Except this was no dream. Whatever had happened to her when she'd blacked out after the final presentation, it was awesome. She'd woken up literally a new woman. But, she hadn't just grown five inches and filled out a hell of a lot more than that. There was a sense of energy inside her waiting to be tapped. Shaped. Played with! She felt supercharged from head to toe and Chris had no idea how bad she was going to fuck his brains out. She'd woken up first and had already discovered some wonderful changes that went way beyond her looks. He hadn't notice the hand-sized chunk she'd torn out of the edge of the nearby fountain just trying to sit up. Or seen her hold that chunk of solid marble in her hands in growing awe, closing her palms around it like shutting a book, white dust dribbling down as she crushed the stone more easily than Styrofoam. Best of all, she'd been so excited by her new strength she'd started unconsciously kneading her equally new masses of sweater meat. Then she really squeezed, discovering SHE was much firmer than the stone had been. But there had been so much more, too, including her speed having become as incredible as her strength...

“Your master? Me?" she purred. "I like the sound of that." She leaned forward over him, her heavy breasts just barely contained by her mist-grey top and gently tickling his chest. "But really, I just wanted to show you somebody finally fixed my hyperdrive”, she looked at him slyly, lips almost but not quite touching his. Suddenly her hips were beating up and down on his shaft so rapidly everything past her pretty face and firm shoulders became a soft blur. Her silky dress was billowing upward in the wind she was generating. His eyes went wide and he bit his lip trying to stifle a scream of pleasure. His whole body arched, pushing up into her even as she plunged down on to him. He tried to sit up, to take some measure of control but she held him down like a child, not the slightest hint of strain in the muscles of her arms as she pinned his shoulders to the grass using only her fingertips, making it clear she really was the Master now. Chris might be pretty strong for a guy, but compared to her, he was downright puny.

Chris wasn't the only one having a good time either. Kim's eyes rolled up in her head almost immediately even though she still kept impaling herself on him twenty times a second. She moaned passionately, her voice carrying a strange echoing quality as her diaphragm vibrated along with her hips.

“Stay on target. Stay on target!” He hissed and her answering laughter was liquid gold as she felt a third 'hyperdrive' orgasm rip through her. The rise and fall of her hips slowed to a merely human cadence before she paused, already eager to try something new. She released her grip on his shoulders and straightened her back. "Use the Force, Kim" she whispered and made an urgent lifting gesture with her palms up. Just as she hoped, she rose into the air, her long legs uncoiling into a wide inverted ‘V’ above him like ceiling beams supporting a peaked roof. The he rose up too, his still horizontal body hanging in the empty space defined by her spread thighs and pointed toes, his up thrust cock less than an inch away from her waiting lips.

Chris's arms flailed behind him for a moment as the ground fell away. But looking up at this aggressive, dominant version of Kim made him like this dream better and better. The idea of making love to such a powerful woman made him harder than he'd ever been and the smile she gave him said she could sense the difference even without looking down. He reached up, hooking his hands into the swell at the top of her hips and tried to pull himself up into her, but lacking any other leverage, he realized 'Master' held all the cards now.

Kim leered down at Chris over firm G-cups that hadn’t been there when they’d left the house. “Join with me!" she said in her deepest voice and raising a clenched fist before making cute little breathy 'respirator noises'. His whole body lifted and he slide into her like a key into a lock, every curve and knob of his 'lightsaber' gripped in unimaginably firm muscle. But she couldn't keep a straight face long at such an obvious double meaning. "And together we’ll rule the galaxy as… oh nevermind!” Her arms shot up, fingers splayed wide like she was holding up the sky. The invisible grip of her will tightened on his body like a net. Now it was his hips that became almost a blur as she worked him deep into her hungry pussy using only the power of the Force. His body was just along for the ride now, her living dildo. But what a ride!

"You're not my father!" He declared, running his hands over her strong thighs, measuring the narrowness of her waist and pressing against the firmly packed tightness of her overfilled top. That made his eyebrow quirk for a moment. Strange dream: someone had retailored the dress they'd made together to just barely fit her new figure... Then all his analytical skills vanished when her small hands fell to cup the back of his, pressing him deeper into her flesh, encouraging him to rub and tweak and tease her body as hard as he could. The more he pressed and squeezed and even clawed at her, the more excited she got. He raked his nails down her bare thighs and froze, fearing he'd gone too far even for a dream, but then he looked at her legs and realized nothing he was doing was leaving the slightest mark on her. 'Holy shit... what kind of crazy dream was this?' It made sense he'd dream Kim was some kind of Jedi. But why was she invulnerable? And so strong too? It was like he was mixing his genres... and actually it was pretty damn hot, he admitted.

Master Kim continued puppet-master his lower body relentlessly, driving his hips against her aching crotch with the urgency of a locomotive making up for lost time. With every bludgeoning stroke she instinctively shifted her gasping boyfriend's cock until she found the exact angle that pleased her incredible new body best... and then she really sped things up! She arched back in an explosive burst of ecstasy, lifting her face towards the watching stars. “If you only... knew the power... of my Dark Side!” she moaned, willing her bodice to burst into tatters for dramatic effect, setting her jiggling breasts free. She felt Chris exploding helplessly in her quivering vagina, and that was it for her. Her pussy jumped to hyperspace again, and without careful calculations she flew right through a star AND bounced too close to a super nova! Not at like dusting crops at all, boy.

Time passed, but Kim had no idea how much. Only that it had been the longest orgasm of her life. There was a Kessel Run joke in there, but she let it go. She stretched luxuriously still in midair, not even winded after four of the best orgasms she'd ever had. "Time for episode five, handsome... You know, the GOOD one!" Kim whispered playfully. Puzzled by the absence of a reply to her joke, she looked down to find her lover unconscious. "Not cool, Chris." She muttered, not realizing just how much stamina she'd gained or how long they'd been at it floating over the gardens.

Maybe he just needed a boost? Sensing him starting to soften within her even as she was just getting started, she slipped a rod of invisible force inside his flagging member, telekinetically inflating him until he was even harder than before. That got his attention! He looked up at her startled but also wide awake again, his penis inexplicably and painfully erect. “Hey there, lover," she whispered to him seductively. "No, you're not dreaming. But maybe I am."

He nodded. Not understanding, but not arguing either. He was definitely awake and Kim had become some kind of Super-Jedi... and the love she had for him surrounded them like a soft golden light.

She smiled, seeing that he believed in her, even if she could still barely believe it herself. "Plus the story’s never over until the Death Star explodes.” Grabbing his hands and guiding them back to her breasts she closed her eyes and he felt his hips resume their mechanical-bull bucking without any conscious action on his part. “In this case the ‘Death Star’ being ME!”

"Whatever- you- say- ...Princess." He managed between gasps, smiling weakly up at her.

"I think you were right the first time, you scoundrel. Call me 'Master'." She giggled, taking the sting out of her words.

That was a deal he'd happily take. "Yes, my Master. Now let's blow this thing and go home. It's kind of cold up here." They'd continued to slowly rise and now she was straddled over him like a tree branch, high enough to see over the tops of the buildings and almost all the way to the river winding through the twinkling heart of the city.

A hundred feet below and half a block sideways Sylvia giggled. “D'awww... My kind of geeks.”

With midnight drawing near, things were starting to wind down inside and the afterparty out back was starting to get loud. Something about twins, a juggling act, mandatory audience participation, and not a bowling pin in sight. Sylvia decided to call it a night, almost afraid she'd turn into a pumpkin at the final tolling of the bell. She'd have been convinced this was all a Cinderella story except Bree was about the last person you expect in the role of fairy godmother. She was about to start searching for her when the missing ‘Jessica Jones’ stumbled back into the main room as if on cue. Her clothes looked like a train had hit her …and lost, if her grin was any indication. There were little fragments of torn steel caught in her wig and stuck in her tattered jacket. Sylvia decided she wasn’t even gonna ask. She staggered up to Sylvia and put a hand on her shoulder for support as much as companionship. "Screen door!" she announced happily and Sylvia was doubly sure she wasn't gonna ask. They rounded up Sophie who admitted she might have let it slip she could fly once she’d cornered her own chosen paramour of the evening. Sylvia was not surprised. It was a bad night for armor (and a good night for armor wearers) when Sophie had finally gone off with a helmetless but very persistent Iron Man who was almost as cute as Robert Downey Jr. himself. That is, assuming her Tony Stark had even noticed his ass was pressed against the ceiling and not the floor while her long red hair hung ‘up’ and not down in his inverted perspective. He’d seemed a little distracted after she’d picked him up one handed and started peeling him.

Quietly as they'd come, the trio slipped away, award plaques in hand and only a handful of new super girls knew how right the judges were about Sylvia being the Best. Power Girl. Ever.

---

...nausea, dizziness, devastating orgasms, and some swelling. Prolonged exposure may result in death, deification, or the end of the world as we know it. Keep out of reach of children. NSFW.

---

Was he really doing this?

Yeah. Yeah, he was. Because Candace deserved to be a goddess. Because he desperately wanted to fuck said goddess. And because for the last year, goddesses had been REAL.

It had started at a dance party only about ten miles down the ridgeline from here. A whole pool full of college girls had metamorphosed into super-babes. Twenty co-eds who’d emerged from the waters as spectacular Naiadss: sleek, sexy, tall, and if the rumors were true, absolutely insatiable. Two of them, the now world-famous Deniken sisters, had become full-blown goddesses: close to eight feet tall, incredibly strong, and brain-lockingly gorgeous.

There’d been something in the pool. Foamy, fizzy, and miraculous. Some chemistry nerds at the party had managed to set off the effect at another party using water taken from the original pool, transforming another dozen girls (including the nerds’ very grateful new girlfriends...). But that was the last of that. Whatever it was, it had become either too diluted or had spoiled. Nobody else had any success. The rumor was the original mystery ingredient X was called “Seventh Heaven” but where and how it had gotten that name or found its way into the pool was as elusive as the magic formula itself. Certainly, the twin goddesses didn’t know or they weren’t telling. The FBI had been very persistent about questioning everyone involved. But even the G-Men hadn't been able to spin it as a terrorist attack or national security threat.

He popped the lid off the milkshake, opened his car door to pour out a small quantity on the driveway to make space, then poured in the vial of shimmering meta-drug. He could have drunk the excess, but it was strawberry, and he hated strawberry. The opalescent fluid had a strong red hue, which is what made him think of mixing it with strawberries in the first place.

Still nervous at what he was planning, he put the lid back on. Candace was the only person in the house that would even think about drinking anything strawberry flavored, so no worries about getting the cups confused. He’d brought chocolate for himself and the Brat. Had to make it look natural, that he’d just brought over burgers and shakes for everybody. Turkey burger for the skinny brat. Candace’s younger sister was thin as a rail and would probably stay that way forever. Even at 19, the girl had a metabolism like a blast furnace.

Four months after the two legendary pool parties things had gotten really crazy in La La Land. Seventh Heaven was replaced by Magic Eight-Ball. Eight-Ball looked like liquid opals. The stuff was unmistakable, which was good because it sold for around six-thousand dollars a dose and seemed impossible to counterfeit. If you paid for Eight-Ball, you got Eight-Ball.

It was the ultimate new party drug. If you were a guy, you got a sweet, mellow buzz and a dick made of steel for about six hours. You were also a sexual titan and the ladies couldn’t resist you. Pheromones or something. If you were a woman you got the same great buzz, were hornier than six sluts at Fleet Week, and you got the full ‘sexy nymphette make-over’. Pop that in the middle of the dance floor and you were the uncontested goddess of the scene. $6,000 was nothing to own the night like that. Plus you got to keep the body.

Justin climbed out of the car and walked up to the Moore house. He was really going to do this. Candace Moore was infatuated with Eight-Ball and the Naiads as much as he was. More, really. She was pretty, but who could look at any of those girls and not be jealous? She’d told him more than once she’d jump at the chance to try it, despite the risks...

Eight-ball had... side-effects. Well, more like ‘effects’, because ‘it might kill you’ wasn’t exactly a side-effect. Some of the women who took it got more than just the make-over. They got... powers. All the transformed women were strong. Very strong. At minimum three times stronger than they ought to be and sometimes five or six times stronger than normal. A few were bulletproof (the cops had thought that was a barrel of laughs.... Not). Enhanced reflexes were also a fairly common alternative. Three of the new naiads could hover up toe a dozen feet above the ground, almost able to fly! Whoever was making the stuff was either a huge comic book fan or they were making Eight-Ball out of alien blood or something. No one knew. The dealers were like ghosts. The manufacturer even more so.

The problem was if you got powers instead of just beauty, the powers usually burned you up from the inside. You'd have somewhere between ten minutes and three hours. Hence the name “magic eight-ball”. Roll it over and you could get all kinds of answers, from "Hey, you're just crazy sexy now" all the way up to “enjoy your 15-minute rampage, because you’re already dead.” It killed about one in eight women who took it, and there were parts of the city that were still being rebuilt from where they’ve gone out with a bang.

He didn't get more than two steps through the door before he'd been spotted. So much for laying out lunch in secret.

“Hey, Justin...” Jessie announced sexily. “That smells good. What’d ya bring me?”

Candace’s younger sister. “The brat.“ Because everything was about her, as far as Jessie was concerned. That Justin hadn’t just collapsed into her arms the moment she'd batted her eyelashes at him was one of life’s great injustices.

Justin had to admit, if you’d never met her and had only seen her in pictures, Jessie was strictly speaking more beautiful than her older sister. Slender but still womanly. But after about three minutes of exposure to her acid personality and you knew that the older sister was the keeper. Blonde, sweet-tempered, and with just enough of a wild side to keep you guessing, Justin knew Candace was his soulmate. He’d brought Cee something BETTER than eight-ball. The woman had called it ‘cloud nine’ and assured him that it was much, much more predictable. Almost rampage-free. Same opal shimmer but with a ruby glaze. God, the new stuff even looked sexy. He’d heard rumors about the next generation of Eight-Ball starting to appear but to actually score some...

She snapped her fingers twice. “Earth to Justin. I said ‘what’d ya bring me?’”

If it were just a picture, yeah, Jessie did know how to look good. Today she was wearing a bikini, sorta. The bottom piece was a narrow red scrap of cloth that covered little more than the absolute minimum, secured with yellow laces over her slender hips. You couldn’t say it ‘covered her modesty’ because Jessie hadn't been born with one of those. The top was a single broad piece of blue cloth tied over the soft rise of her slight bosom, the famous Superman ‘S’ printed on it, centered on her chest.



Justin rolled his eyes. “You know, you could try being more like your sister.”

“What? We’re both into you. We’re practically twins!”

“I meant ‘be nice’.”

Jessie blew him a raspberry, showing off her pink tongue before she licked her lips and sniffed. “Turkey burger?”

He set the bags of food and drinks on the kitchen counter. Little did he know the nanites in the Cloud Nine were already waking up. Finding themselves surrounded by ice cream, they began to slowly multiply until the cup contained something like five times the normal dosage, all of the tiny molecular engines fully charged with sugar-fuel and ready to go to work. Accelerated human evolution in a Styrofoam cup.

He took a long, lingering look at the ‘special’ shake. Soon now. "Super Candace" would make Jessie look like a twig. That Superman top would be so appropriate on Cee’s newly rounded breasts... Then he glanced back at Jessie almost guiltily. “On top, I think. Should have a ‘T’ on it. Now scram. I gotta talk to Cee.” Just to rub it in a little, he added, “Adult stuff.”

Her eyebrows came down like a castle gate. 'Adult stuff', indeed! Justin and her sis were only five years older! She gave him ‘The Look’. “My revenge will be spoken of in hushed whispers for a generation.”

“Heh. That’s funny, kiddo.” He ruffled her hair, trying to take the sting out of his earlier comment. Even after she became a goddess, Cee wasn’t going to abandon Jessie. The Brat was just part of the package he had signed up for. Family, ain’t it great?

She looked up at him from under his outstretched hand. “Not as funny as the fact you think I’m kidding.” She smiled at him sweetly, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Justin headed upstairs, eager to invite Candace down and get lunch started. He was already as hard as if he’d taken some Eight-Ball himself just thinking about her growing in his arms...

Jessie stood alone in the kitchen. She’d been planning to get some sun out by the pool and with Justin in full mushy-mushy mode, she didn’t see any reason to change those plans. She’d find some way to punish him later.

...Or maybe start on that right now. ‘I’ll show him I can be more like my sister.’ She thought with an evil smirk. She ignored the chocolate shake meant for her and snatched the unattended strawberry milkshake off the counter. ‘Serves him right, thinking I’m just a kid. Sis hates chocolate, and he’ll look like such a dufus when that's all that's left...’

She dug out her burger - on the bottom because the universe is a prick - and strolled out the back through tall glass doors.

Justin took the stairs two at a time as he trotted up to Candace’s room on the second floor. The sisters and their whole family were loaded. The girls had their own house for years with their parents living six houses down on the same very expensive hillside block.

Her door was cracked, so he gently pushed it open, thinking to surprise her. He could hear her smart TV re-running some interview with one of the Deniken Twins.

Candace, or ‘Cee’ but never ‘Candy’ was in a sky-blue leotard stretching her leg on a rail. One whole wall of her enormous bedroom was mirrored and had a rail like a dance studio. Justin had never seen anything like it, but they’d made love pressed up against that cool glass enough times to know it had considerable advantages. Sometimes she’d do full splits up on the railing as he took her from behind, gazing with lust and love at each other’s reflection... He took a deep breath just remembering that day.

“Hey, lover!” She called out, pleased to see him. She was stretched over the rail right now, her long legs on full display. “What brings you around this fine Friday afternoon? I thought we weren’t gonna meet up until tomorrow night?” When they’d been planning to go club hopping again looking for someone who sold Eight-Ball. It had been a regular ritual for them almost as soon as the stuff had hit the scene. To say Candace was ‘obsessed’ was putting it gently.

“Can’t I bring the lovely ladies in my life some lunch? Max’s... You know you love it.”

“I do, but it goes straight to my ass.”

He stepped closer, pulling her to him and cupping her buttocks. “And such a sweet derriére it is, too.”

She snuggled against him, then arched back so she could poke him in the chest with her finger. “Sounds like you’re hungry for more than just the best pastrami burger this side of the valley, mister.”

He squeezed her ass again “Well... I do love nice buns. Come on. Lets eat!” He smiled.

“One more set.” She slid out of his grip and spread herself over the rail again in a posture that would have had Justin screaming in pain. She and Jessie had both been in ballet classes since they were kids. While neither of them were especially interested in performing, they both enjoyed the grace and tone it gave their bodies. The way it made men’s eyes follow their every step. Plus flexibility was fun in all kinds of ways...

As eager as he was to see what his big surprise would do for her and to her, watching her stretch in a skin-tight nothing was a damn fine way of passing the time. What a body! Laying all the changes a Naiad received over that was going to be... Candace would make a stunning goddess.

Candace saw him in the mirror drooling at her and felt a rush of warmth. He was so the one. She’d always had suitors. With her looks and money that was inevitable. But Jessie was always there tempting them. Most sisters would be pissed, she thought. But to Candace, her little sister was the perfect test. Jessie was just as pretty and as rich and way more aggressive. If Jess succeeded, the guy wasn’t worth her time anyway. Justin had passed that test with flying colors. Love was loyalty in her mind.

As she finished up her routine she turned away from the mirrored wall and asked, "So what's Jessie doing?"

"Sunbathing, I think."

"Ug. She's so pale all she ever does is burn. And then complain about her sunburn for a week. I don't know why she does that."

Justin looked at Candace's own radiantly golden skin and wisely decided to keep his mouth shut and shrug. If she didn't know by now, it wasn't his place to say.

Then she stood on tip-toe to kiss him and drew him after her back towards the stairs with a laugh. Their horseplay had them nearly falling down the stairs before they turned the corner to the dining area hand in hand and the Feast of Burgers was revealed.

Minus one very important cup.

“No, no, nooo...” Justin whined, horrified. “It was in the strawberry!” He leaned over the counter, hoping maybe it had just fallen off onto the floor. Even being splattered over the hardwood flooring was an improvement over gone. “Six thousand dollars...” he muttered, not realizing he was thinking out loud.

“What was ‘in the strawberry’? Candace asked archly. Then she heard him say ‘six thousand dollars’ and she knew.

“Oh. My. God! You were gonna slip me an Eight-Ball!”

Justin froze, busted. He turned to her, hands making calming gestures. “It was supposed to be a surprise...”

“Flowers are a surprise!” She was nearly yelling now. “Deadly potions are...” She didn’t even have the words.

“Romantic?” He suggested. “You told me so many times you’d love to be the one. To bubble up and become a Naiad, a goddess...” Seeing she wasn’t actually going to rip his head off, he went on, “Come on, Cee, I only had the money because you gave it to me and said ‘buy some’ if I ever got the chance...”

“I meant to buy it and bring it to me, not... Ok.” She took a deep breath and gave him a softer look. “Surprising me would actually have been amazing. But, Justin... There’s talk and there’s holding it in your hands and knowing it could kill you. I changed my mind. ...Actually, I... I scored some on my own about a week ago.”

Justin’s eyes went wide, both with shock and distress at her change of heart. “I- I didn’t know.” He’d meant to make her dreams come true, not kill her!

“I look at the bottle every night. I want to. You know I do. It would be soooo wonderful. But I just couldn’t bring myself to risk... You know, to lose you.” She paused, rubbing her popping ears. A car was driving by with the bass cranked way up, making the tall glass windows pulse rhythmically, like a giant’s breathing. “Being dead would suck, right?”

Now he smiled. “Well, maybe this time you’ll take the plunge.” he waved vaguely at the countertop covered in food bags. “The shake. It's not Eight-Ball, it's the new stuff. Cloud Nine. It’s supposed to be better. Safer...” Again he tried to reassure her he’d only wanted the best for her. For them. She’d know immediately what that meant — she knew way more about the stuff than he did.

Out in the back patio, he could hear Jessie yelling at something. Probably a passing drone trying to ogle her. Sometimes she really did seem to think the whole world was out to get her. He glanced out back and didn’t see the brat on any of the chairs. In the water probably.

“So, where is it?” Candace asked, working up the courage to make both their dreams come true. She was finally gonna become one of LA’s new chosen ones. No, not just a Naiad, a true goddess of sexual magnificence! It was going to work, she just knew it! And then she and Justin would make love all night. And tomorrow. and the next day...

“I don’t kno–”

The was a sound like a woman’s scream crossed with a bomb going off, the concussive force sending spider-web fractures crackling across the broad glass panels facing the pool. Only it wasn’t a bomb. It was words:

Yes! YES!! YYYYYEAAAAASSS!

Justin’s heart fell to the bottom of his gut like a rock. The shriek of ultimate pleasure that had shaken the house like the Big Bad Wolf wanted to blow it down was still echoing off the hillside.

And it sounded Just. Like. Jessie.

His scheme, and mega-dose of Cloud Nine, had worked perfectly... But not on Candace.

---

It was hotter outside than Jessie expected, the merciless LA sun beating down on the patio and raising heat shimmers across the valley beyond. The narrow wood slats of the pool recliner reminded her of the char-grill pattern on the turkey burger she'd just inhaled. At first, she'd intended to just dump her sister's shake in one of the planter boxes. Make up a story about how it had been delicious and she was gonna have to try more things her sister liked. That would make Justin just choke. But strawberry or not, it was too damn warm not to have a little of her lousy milkshake. Grimacing with distaste even before she took the first sip, she started to drink her sister’s shake. “Strike that. MY shake, now. Own it, girl!” Her lips puckered, the chill slurry creeping up the straw...

It was good. Surprisingly good considering she hated strawberries. Did it taste kinda... fizzy? It made her tongue tingle. She took another long swig.

A little dribbled on her chest. Some food-counter dumbass hadn’t put the lid on tight. The coolness was even more delicious than the taste, and she rubbed the droplets into her skin with her free hand. It tingled faintly, and after a quick glance around the backyard to make sure no one was looking, she slipped her hand under her top and rubbed the last of it into her nipple.

She let out a little breathy grunt. Oh wow. That felt great! She deliberately tipped the cup so more would dribble out on her belly so she could work the pink goo into her other breast too. Because she loved both her little girls equally.

It felt amazing, but why was it tingling like that? Did she have a strawberry allergy she didn’t know about? There was definitely something funny about this shake. She felt so warm now, and a little woozy. Had Justin... had Justin been trying to roofie her sister? That didn’t make any sense. “C+J” slept together all the time. She’d lain in her first-floor bed fingering herself as she listened through the ceiling to them fucking at least once a week for months now. She’d also worked herself to dozens of orgasms imagining it was her in that frilly white bed with him. She hated how her own boyfriends came and went while Candace had a permanent lover. One who continued to all but ignore Jess's advances. “J+J“ would be so much better for him and her. Still, it was disgustingly adorable the way those two were into each other.

Jessie liked breaking adorable things. The looks of surprise and horror people gave her made her laugh.

Suspicious or not, the thick, cold drink was strangely yummy. She drank more, trying to figure out why it tingled. So much even her hair felt tingly now... She quirked an eyebrow. ‘Tingly hair? How does that even work...?’

Jessie wiggled her butt, wondering why the little gaps between the slats seemed to be pinching her now. Not even milkshakes could go to your ass that fast! She was just starting to worry that she’d turn red and swell up like the blueberry girl in Willie Wonka when the misaligned lid popped off and the remaining half of the king-sized milkshake blorped out right between her petite boobs.

She let out a little squeak of shock, but again she felt so overheated the coolness was almost a relief. As rivulets of cold drink ran across her torso she moaned.

"Something is definitely happening to me..." she announced softly. You couldn't have lived under the same roof as Candace for the last year and not have heard everything the was to know about the mysterious wave of transformations taking place all across the city. The idea a shake meant for her sister had been spiked with Magic Eight-Ball made perfect, perverted sense. "Need to work on your aim, Justin..." she mused.

Setting the nearly empty cup down, she used both hands to smear the pink slush all over herself, watching it melt even faster as she spread it over her feverish skin. Down her arms and legs, across her body, Jessie was feeling the tingling spread to every part of her now. Because while people normally drank Eight-Ball, the nanites in them had originally been designed to be delivered topically. They were more than happy to start working on perfecting her just as fast as she could spread them around.

With another surreptitious glance into the house to make sure the lovebirds hadn’t come down from Cee’s nest yet, she slyly lifted the front of her bikini bottom and wiped a handful of melting ice cream over her pussy lips.

That left her hissing through clenched teeth, the gentle tingling on her skin shading into something like an electric crackling between her legs. “Fuck! So good...” she whispered. She swept a hand down her belly gathering another sloppy blob of the shake and this time worked it into her vagina with two slick fingers, swirling them around inside herself as the tingle spread to her deepest core. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she whispered again. No guy had ever lit her up like this! The tingling was intensifying everywhere, and her muscles were starting to twitch in uncontrolled spasms. Some places tingled decidedly more than others and her nipples felt like they were being rubbed against ice and a car battery at the same time. She looked down and let out a crazy little laugh like you’d have after doing twenty-five summersaults, more dizzy than deliberate. Her nipples were sticking out so hard from her chest they were threatening to tear right through her cute little top, riding on a rising tide of breast-flesh that didn’t seem at all familiar to her. “I mean, they’re nice... but where are my little titties?” she giggled.

Jessie was feverish now and becoming dazed. She had to get out of this heat! She rolled off the side of the lounge chair onto her knees and inched to the edge of the pool. The blue water looked so cool...

Her blue Supergirl top burst off her chest with a ripping sound, the scraps dropping into the pool as she leaned out over the water. She hadn’t felt it growing tighter, but then again bowling balls rarely noticed when they smashed thought tissue paper.

With more of a lurch than a dive, Jessie fell forward into the pool. The water immediately began to steam because she was radiating so much heat. As she sank into chlorinated water, old code buried in the ninth generation optimizer nanites on Jessie’s skin detected the sudden presence of chlorine and passed the message down the line, the signal reaching even the nanites swarming inside her already changing body...

[XX/XY process subset?: XX]
[Thermal dump state?: Ideal]
[Chemical security key?: Accepted]
[All parameters: UNLOCK=TRUE]
[MAXIMIZE ALL PARAMETERS]
[REPRODUCTIVE FITNESS TARGET LEVEL?: SET=INFINITY]
[Executing. Iteration 1]
[Executing. Iteration 2]
[Executing. Iteration 3...]

The already steaming water around Jessie began to boil as the nanites launched into a massive orgy of evolutionary optimization that reached from her skin down into her bones. The first woman to enjoy the benefit of Seventh Heaven in over a year and the only woman to ever have the rogue enhancement protocol hijack two generations of updates as it madly tried to maximize Jessie’s no-longer-slender body with all the new tools now available to it. One program built to craft a Supergirl. The other dialing up everything it could find until all the knobs said “Goddess”.

Meaning Jessie Moore was becoming BOTH.

Sinking deep into the bubbling water in the fetal position, almost in a trance, Jessie's hands cupped and kneaded her swelling breasts. They’d never felt so wonderful, so alive before! So sensitive... so BIG. Not even the legendary Tatiana Deniken had felt so much pleasure on her way to becoming 'the world's most desirable woman'...

Because what was happening to Jessie was ten times more intense, a new paradigm for maximum reproductive fitness being sledgehammered into each and every one of her cells. While 'maximum reproductive fitness' was still LabSpeak for "fucking sexy", for Jessie it would mean becoming far more than just humanly perfect. Thanks to the error in conflicting programming she was being reborn as something completely new: the world's only Super Goddess .

She felt her shoulder bump against the bottom of the pool even as the blaze of pleasure radiating from her loins threatened to fry her brains like a flipped over tortoise in the Mojave Desert sun. The soft impact sent a bolt of panic through her. She spun with a jerk, getting her feet planted on the concrete bottom of the pool before she lunged for the surface.

Water blasted out of the pool in a small geyser! She not only broke the surface like a breaching shark, but she also launched so high only her shins stayed remained below the lip of the pool. Mid-leap her torso arched like a ship's figurehead, her long hair whipping over her head like a swimsuit model shoot. Then she slid back down into the water up to her neck, still panting for air. Around her, the windows of the house bowed and flexed in time with her deep, gasping breaths, her powerful lungs controlling the air pressure around her for ten yards or more. Each breath drove a deep bass pulse, like the most ridiculously over-powered audio speakers or a giant’s breathing.

Jessie was momentarily disoriented. The pool wasn’t very deep, but wasn’t this the deep end? Except it couldn’t be: she was standing on the bottom, her shoulders poking up out of the water. Her shoulders weren’t the only thing poking up either, the tops of two beautiful round breasts were breaking the surface too. Reaching her arms around to hug herself, Jessie pinched both of the impossibly long, firm nipples, the accompanying whiteout of sensual overload behind her eyes confirming those monsters were really hers. She was certain if she hadn't been standing in the pool that one squeeze would have seen rivulets of her sex juices running down her legs. Fuck, it was just one new climax after another. Each more powerful than the last, like stairs leading her upwards toward a fiery sun made out of eternal ecstasy.

Still foggy even after her moment of terror, she turned to face the valley full of houses beyond the patio before cupping her new assets and proudly lifting them out of the water for all the world to see. “See that world? My boobies. MINE!” She shouted in incoherent bliss. All the world, in this case, being a terrified squirrel and two passing pigeons.

Grabbing her breasts had the unintended side effect of setting off a positively volcanic wave of arousal. Her knees buckled and she bit her lower lip. She sank back down into the steaming water still fondling herself as the Cloud Nine nanites consumed the last of their fuel. In one final push, they dialed up her nervous system conductivity until sizzling hot wires seemed to pierce her from every angle and she came in a half-agonized scream. The sound of a Goddess being born:

Yes! YES!! YYYYYEAAAAASSS!

Suddenly the fog in her mind cleared. Replaced by a cool sense of poise that was almost as unfamiliar. It was a good thing she’d been facing away from the house, she realized, because she could hear the glass crack behind her with perfect clarity, aware of every individual hiss and snap as the windows shivered before her glory.

One glance down at herself told the story, as plain as reading it from a book: she’d become one of the new goddesses. Not just a run of the mill Naiad, but a Goddess. Capital G. The Goddess Justin had obviously intended to be her sister’s fate. She knew all the stories - at least second hand - from Candace's relentless study of the transformations. The Eight-Ball Naiads sometimes gained a special power along with strength and beauty. Apparently she had gotten invulnerability since she was huddling in thousands of gallons of boiling water and hadn't become the cooked meat in a big pot of People Soup.

“Oh, now this is going to be fun...” She had the same evil smirk as when she’d first thought of taking her sister’s drink, but on her newly enhanced features, it wasn’t just mischievous... It was terrifying. The invulnerable were always the ones the cops complained about the most.

She turned back to the house and strolled up the length of the pool, the water parting as her powerful limbs cut through it like blades. More and more of her awesome figure revealed as the water grew shallower.

She also saw herself in the glass for the first time as she mounted the steps at the end of the pool. She was magnificent. Candace didn’t stand a chance against her now. Nobody did. No man would resist her and certainly not Justin. Even her brown hair had been replaced by shimmering gold that made her sister’s tresses look like bleached straw in comparison. She remembered being jealous of her lovely yellow hair, men fawning over Candace's 'platinum blonde' while her own 'mouse brown' hair went unnoticed. But that was obviously a thing of the past. The thought of outshining Candace in every way now sent a shiver right down to her crotch. She heard a squeal of metal as the handrail at the end of the pool crumpled in her hand. "Oops!" She giggled. That's right, the new goddesses were strong. Very strong. She decided then and there to make finding out how strong the sexiest game imaginable.

But there were more pressing games to attend to. One of the oldest the two sisters still played together: “Bet’cha I can take him.” And Jessie always played to win. No matter how much the odds were in her favor. If Candace didn't like it, then she'd better step up her game.

Ha! Like that was even possible now...

“Oh, Jussss-tin? Come out and play.” She sang musically, not unlike Scarlett Johansson’s lilting tones when she’d voiced the deadly serpent Kaa. Jessie’s eyes narrowed and she realized she could make out Justin’s shocked face and growing erection right through her reflections in the glass. “Ooohh. Play with meee...”