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September 2005



Thursday 1 September 2005 16:37 BST (GMT+1)

hen I left off last time I was hovering in the air a couple of hundred feet above the ground. Another couple of hundred feet further down lay the "secret" base, full of soldiers and scientists and military equipment, just waiting for me to drop in and start playing.

But I was taking my time. As I "stood" in the sky, my hands on my shapely hips, my glorious bust thrust out, straining the very limits of my home-made bikini (it was only quarter-inch thick moulded steel, after all) looking beautiful, I listened to the crescendo of jet plane engines. I counted four of them, all flying flat out. Moments later, my amazing eyes picked them out.

I waited, unmoving, for them to approach a little. Then I focussed on just one of them, narrowed my gaze and let my new heat-vision power do the rest. Two beams of reddish light shot from my pupils, converging far in the distance at a point of my choosing. That point was the centre of my selected jet's fuselage.

For about half a second, the entire plane seemed to glow red. Then it became and orange and yellow fireball. Chunks of military aeroplane rained down on the ground below. I'd destroyed one of the most advanced fighting machines on Earth from half a mile's distance without even raising a finger. It's all so easy when you're as powerful as me!

Turning my attention to another jet, I aimed the next blast of heat-vision more carefully. I could have just exploded it like the first, but I wanted to test myself. Of course, I passed the test. Without any strain, I managed to direct the awesome power of my eyes to slice the plane's left wing off cleanly, leaving the fuselage untouched. I laughed with hysterical delight as the now one-winged jet immediately went into an uncontrollable spin. Another blast from my sexy eyes destroyed the crippled machine before it could crash into the ground.

That left two craft. Relaxed, I floated after one of them. The jet was cutting through the sky at top speed, a proud testament to the skill and technology of its builders and designers. I caught up with it with as much difficulty as I would have caught up with a drunken snail. To be honest, I got the feeling that I could have flown twenty times faster if only I'd bothered.

Slowing to match the frustratingly slow speed of the state-of-the-art, billion-rouble aeroplane, I was struck by the huge contrast between my power and beauty and the ugly, noisy jet's limitations. It just didn't seem right that the two of us could coexist in the sky. I decided to do something about that immediately.

An effortless burst of speed from me carried me clean through the body of the craft from top to bottom. I'd barely burst through the the roof, my skull punching clean through the frame as if it wasn't there, when the whole thing exploded. The flames engulfed me, pieces of jet battering all over my body. Naturally, not a scratch was left anywhere on my perfect skin, but a large dent was left in my steel knickers.

As the bits of that former military plane fell groundwards, I took off for the last remaining jet, swearing to avenge my underwear. Two seconds later, I was floating alongside. I say "floating" because I wasn't putting any significant effort into it. The pilot turned to the side and stared in shock and horror at me from his cockpit. I stuck my tongue out at him and he just looked even more surprised.

I puckered up and unleashed a quick blast of my cold superbreath (much less of a strain than a normal person would experience blowing out a single tiny candle on a birthday cake). I could see the air cooling to liquid as my exhalation passed through it. When my breath hit the front of the plane, it turned that half of the craft, and its contents, to solid ice in a split-second. I closed my lips, letting them curl into a smile.

The engines suddenly fell silent. A moment later, the plane itself fell, like a stone. It didn't even explode when it smashed into the ground below, merely breaking into dozens of little pieces. That was all that was left. The jet went from a marvel of engineering, flying at full speed to a pile of frozen useless junk scattered on the ground because I blew at it. You have no idea how wonderful that made me feel.

I was ready for the installation. With my X-ray vision I could see it, spread out beneath me, deep, deep under the earth. I couldn't help licking my lips in anticipation.

Well, I think that's enough excitement for today. You're only human (unlike me). More next time, folks.



Friday 2 September 2005 21:02 BST (GMT+1)

ing there in the sky, the underground installation looked like a map spread out beneath me. I could see the vast central chamber, the corridors and smaller rooms arranged around it. A series of long, long tunnels spread outwards, like the spokes of a wheel. No doubt they all emerged miles and miles away.

Someone had clearly gone to a lot of trouble to keep the place hidden. There was no way in from the surface above. All the machines and people in there must have entered via one of the tunnels. I was about to follow one myself and see where it came out (even if it had been a hundred miles long, I could have flown the distance in minutes). Just then, I noticed some peculiar activity taking place in the main area.

There was no doubt that they knew I was around, and that I was planning on coming inside. The antiaircraft fire and the four jets were proof enough of that. Clearly, they thought I was about to attempt to get to the central chamber through one of the tunnels. I could see the men in uniforms, gathering in groups where the tunnels opened out into the installation itself.

There must have been a dozen men in each of those five groups, lining up across the mouths of the tunnels. I could see them all so clearly, even though there was a hundred feet of earth and rock between them and me. There were another twenty or so soldiers inside the huge main room. I couldn't see if they were supposed to be guarding the various pieces of machinery in there or the four men in civilian suits. Somehow, I knew I'd get to find out eventually.

I turned in the air, so that I was facing the ground. And then I accelerated towards it. I flew faster and faster as the ground seemed to rise up to meet me. In no time at all, I struck the earth, head first. The first six feet or so were soil, but beneath was solid rock. My skull slammed into it, and through it, leading the way. My shoulders followed, widening the channel my head was carving. Then my chest enlarged it still further.

I didn't even slow down. Or rather the "impediment" of ancient, compacted stone didn't slow me down. My body just smashed it out of the way, breaking it into tiny pieces as it slammed through, crushing it to powder as I brushed it aside. The sensation of rock crumbling against my face was unusual, but not unpleasant. Even the particles that got in my eyes were no problem. I just blinked them away as I continued to carve my way.

In hardly any time at all, I burst through the rock into one of the tunnels. A massive shower of dust and small chunks of stone rained down on me as I turned in the air to land gracefully on my feet. I'd measured my "dive" to finish about ten yards from one of the groups of men guarding the tunnel mouths, and, as always, my aim was perfect. Sadly, my entrance was partially ruined as the dislodged rock continued to fall from above, burying me almost entirely.

The men threw themselves on the ground, as if anticipating an explosion. Maybe, as they couldn't see me for fallen debris, they thought I was some kind of missile. Their mistake. I shook my head and shoulders, causing the pile of rock to fly aside. Some pieces actually hit the men at the end of the tunnel. Two of them collapsed with head wounds. And I hadn't even introduced myself yet.

"Hello, boys." I said when I was finally revealed. I gave them a few moments to react to the shock of seeing me, the most beautiful girl in the world, standing in the rubble that had been a hundred feet of stone. My steel bikini had sustained a few nicks and scratches but had otherwise survived pretty well. My knickers (other than the hole in the crotch) were also doing fine. I'd chosen my attire well. I could tell from the increased heart rates and panting breathing that they all appreciated the sight.

I put my hands on my hips and cocked them slightly, leaning a little forward and pushing out my breasts so that the thick solid steel strap that held my bikini in place began to groan in protest. "So.. anyone fancy a screw then?" I asked.


Now, I won't lie. I speak Russian well. I do everything well. So when six of those soldiers responded to my question by raising their rifles, I knew that it wasn't because they had misunderstood my question. Two of the others hesitated before lifting their own weapons. The remaining pair just seemed frozen to the spot. I didn't need supersenses to know that they desperately wanted to take me up on my invitation...

Meanwhile, the quickest of the riflemen had decided to shoot his weapon. I wasn't surprised that he was a good marksman; only the very best would have been picked for such a special job, guarding the secret installation. The bullet pinged off the centre of my forehead, landing on the ground about two-thirds off the way back where it had come from. All ten standing men looked down at it and then back at me. "Foreplay, eh?" I smiled.

He shot again. This time he wasted his lead on my nose. One of his colleagues tried his luck, the shot ricocheting from my neck into the tunnel wall some three yards away. "Boys," I said, rolling my eyes, "I'm in a bit of a hurry here. Would you mind getting a move on?"

That was all the encouragement three others needed to join the fun. My left eye, right cheekbone and top lip were all given the opportunity to demonstrate their invulnerability. "Don't you guys know anything about turning a girl on?" I asked impatiently. "You should aim for-" I seductively traced the curves of my breasts with a finger, "-here and-" I drew the same finger down the centre of my exposed stomach and down, between my upper thighs, "-here."

A couple of them obeyed. My steel bikini took direct hits on both cups, leaving it with yet more dents. Others pinged off my knickers, causing similar superficial damage. One particularly well-aimed effort actually missed my metal upper garment and successfully lodged itself in the uncovered top portion of my cleavage. I fished the deformed bullet out and casually flicked it back where it had come from. It went right through the soldier's head before his body even started to fall.

That got all the others, even the two who hadn't wanted to shoot at first, firing frantically at me. The bullets hit all over my head, my face and my torso. Using superspeed, I caught one between my teeth, being careful not to slice it in half with my jaws. I spat it back, taking another shooter out of the equation. The remaining half dozen glanced nervously at each other as they continued to shoot.

I started to walk towards them, through the hail of gunfire. When I was close enough for a ricochet off my abdomen to bury itself in one guy's leg, one of the others pulled a knife from his belt and charged me. He held the blade high over his head, preparing to slam it down on me. I caught his wrist, crushing it, and pulled him hard towards me.

The impact of his body against mine was too much. His ribs simply gave way against my steel-clad chest and I let go of his wrist and let him fall at my feet. Then I continued to approach the others. I picked the best-looking of the remaining soldiers and looked him straight in the eye so he knew I'd singled him out.

The bullets were still flying at (and off) me as I got close to him. He was really lucky that a stray shot or rebound didn't kill him. I got near enough to just reach down and pull his rifle from his hands. I must have broken a finger or four doing that, because he yelled in shock and pain. I smiled at him as I slowly crushed his weapon to a small, smooth ball between my palms, the noise of the protesting metal loud and clear above the continuing shooting.

He started to tremble as I turned his weapon into a small bowling ball which I tossed over my shoulder, so that it embedded itself a foot deep in the rock wall. I moved in closer to my new friend, positioning myself directly between him and the four other men. They couldn't have had much regard for their comrade (or maybe they had strict orders to kill any intruders no matter what). They were still shooting at me, despite the fact that he was right in front of me. I could feel the bullets bouncing off my back.

I was beginning to get bored with those guys. I'd meant what I said about fancying a screw. Destroying those jets so easily had left me feeling powerful (and therefore horny). I caught the gaze of the man on whom I'd chosen to bestow the honour. He looked at me in terror. I smiled and winked, then slowly turned my head over my shoulder to face the others.

Two seconds later, I was alone with my chosen one. The quickest, easiest "zap" with my heat-vision had turned the other four members of the group into something resembling a barbecue disaster. When I looked back at my intended, he had turned as white as a sheet. I gave him a bright, reassuring grin. He didn't seem to relax much though.

I pushed him gently in the chest with my little finger (just enough to send him staggering backwards into the wall and knock the wind out of him). Before he could recover, I was standing right against him, my metallic bra touching him.  He tried to push me away, struggling with clenched teeth, but soon realised he was wasting his time (not to mention his severely limited strength).

It took him a few moments to catch his breath. I was expecting the usual "Please don't hurt me" nonsense, but he turned out to be a brave fellow.

"Who... what are you?" he stammered. I leant into him a little, while my right hand easily tore apart the waistband of his trousers, leather belt and all. My lips were almost touching his. I exhaled sexily over his face as I answered his question:

"I'm the greatest thing that will ever happen to you."

And I think that's as good a place as any to leave the account until next time. You might not agree, but, hey, I'm the one with superpowers!



Monday 5 September 2005 17:49 BST (GMT+1)

oung man I had selected to please my (frankly, rampant) desires was an excellent specimen. Great looking, nicely muscled, and in the very peak of physical condition. In other words, as good as "normal" men get. I reckon he would have survived four or even five consecutive bouts of love-making with me under different circumstances.

Unfortunately, that's just speculation. We were interrupted, midway through the third session with me standing, legs apart, lifting and lowering him rapidly into and out of me, with one hand beneath his rear and the other behind his shoulders. A whole crowd of other soldiers came running. Presumably they'd been guarding the other tunnel entrances and had come in response to the sound of gunfire.

Although I got about twenty of them before they could even see me with a strong, indiscriminate blast of heat-vision, many of those at the back of the onrushing crowd survived, albeit with some pretty nasty-looking burns. Those still standing opened fire with everything they had. Naturally that wasn't enough to even chip one of my perfect fingernails, their bullets merely bouncing off my beautiful body like table-tennis balls bouncing off a brick wall.


I didn't count, but I'd estimate that over a thousand slugs hit me in the space of thirty seconds. As I said, not one of them could so much as leave a mark on my flawless complexion. But the very first bullet that ricocheted from one of my sexy curves was enough to kill my lover. I dropped the corpse and turned to face the charred mini-army that was spraying me in useless hot lead.

I put my hands angrily on my hips and scowled "Hey, don't you boys know it's impolite to interrupt a lady when she's entertaining?" There were a few puzzled faces, but no reply save for the continuing firearms assault. "Isn't anybody going to apologise for disturbing me?" I demanded. Again, no answer. "Fine." I said. "Have it your way."

I pursed my lips, bending forward at the waist as I blew a long, steady stream of warm superbreath at the men. Instantly, the group was lifted from the floor and sent flying, as one, through the air. The live and the dead crashed helplessly into each other as they tumbled, thrown violently backwards by the power of my breath. I kept it up until all the men had slammed hard into a wall some thirty yards behind where they had been standing. Only then did I close my lips.

I checked for heartbeats in the pile of twisted bodies, but there were none. Thirty-eight fit, strong and heavily armed men. One angry glance, one puff of breath, and then there were none. Sometimes, I impress even myself. But the truth is it was so very, very easy.

After that, I was left alone to stroll, at my leisure, towards the huge central chamber of the installation. I knew that that I was looking for was in there. I expected it to be well-guarded, despite my downsizing of the base's security team. I was not disappointed, as I'll tell you, next time.



Tuesday 6 September 2005 17:50 BST (GMT+1)

on't go to great lengths to hide an enormous research base a hundred yards underground in the middle of nowhere just to develop a new flavour of ice-cream.

So, I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, as I approached the installation's huge main chamber, to have been confronted with more than just run-of-the-mill machine guns. Not that there weren't a few of those, too. Another group of soldiers were stationed just inside the chamber. Fifteen of them were trying to block the entrance by standing in a line and opening up with their rapid-fire weapons. I rolled my eyes in response to their useless attempt to hurt me.

Just for effect (and why not; I'm the most beautiful, sexy and powerful creature in the universe, and I don't see anything wrong with showing off a little from time to time) I put my hands on my hips and walked calmly towards the line of shooters. The bullets poured by the dozen onto the front of my body. I ignored them completely as I advanced, letting them spray off my stomach, groin, face and chest as if I was taking a stroll in the park.

The shots (and there were dozens and dozen of them) that hit my metal bikini created small sparks and chipped slowly away at the thick steel. A quarter of an inch of solid metal might seem like a durable and resistant material, but compared to my silky smooth, flawless skin, it's weak and highly vulnerable. My estimate is that twenty minutes continuous machine-gunning from fifteen shooters would have reduced my "knickers" and "bra" to useless.

Of course, I didn't give them twenty minutes. I just kept walking towards them through the haze of bullets until, inevitably, they started to get hit by their own rebounding slugs. Six fell that way, without me needing to do a thing. I was creative with the remaining nine. Bending for a moment to scoop up a dead man's gun, I brought it up to my mouth and took a big bite out of the barrel; my perfect teeth slicing through the steel like it was soft butter.

Carefully, I chewed the metal, using my back teeth and tongue to break it into a couple of dozen small pieces. Then I just spat them out, turning my head slowly from one side to the other, spraying the still standing shooters with little pellets. As I can spit with hundreds of times more force than a gun can shoot, the little bits of chewed steel made for exceptionally deadly mini-missiles. I had to smile at the effectiveness of my improvised weapon.

That was when I got a reminder of the nature of the work being done at the base: weapons research. As I entered the big chamber, I heard a loud whining sound. There, just twenty yards away, three men in uniforms stood around a low, square device with a tiny cylindrical protrusion. One of the three pressed a button on the device and the whining reached a new crescendo. Then, to my surprise, a beam of brilliant green light shot from the protrusion right at me.

I'd never seen anything like it and I'll admit I was worried... for about a twentieth of a second. The beam was obviously some kind of prototype laser-weapon. It's pretty powerful (probably). I say that because when the laser hit my steel knickers, they glowed red then white in an instant. Moments later, they turned into plasma gas, stripping my groin completely.

Then, the beam hit my actual body. I wasn't sure what concentrated energy like that would do to me. Something that can evaporate steel so quickly must pack quite a punch, or so I thought. The last thing I expected was that the laser would tickle me. But it did! The sensation of the energy uselessly attacking my skin was funny. I just couldn't help laughing.

The three men around the beam reacted to that by altering the angle of their weapon. The laser rose up my body, tickling my belly then my cleavage. In the process it sliced my metal bra in half. I decided to remove it altogether after that (no point covering my breasts if my pubic area was exposed) but it wasn't easy. The beam was making me giggle uncontrollably as it passed over my face.

There was a gasp from the men behind the weapon as I revealed my glorious breasts. I flung the two halves of my steel bikini at them, killing two of them. I should have got all three, but I was still shaking from laughter. I realised that I had to stop that green beam if I wanted to regain control of myself. I decided to try using my own lasers. I narrowed my eyes and shot a blast of heat vision at the device producing the tickle-ray.

Less than a second later, the square box exploded, taking care of both the green beam and its last remaining operator. Three more seconds elapsed before I managed to stop giggling and look around.

The chamber really was huge, perhaps as much as fifty yards across. In the far corner, a series of four-foot high, unmarked metal trunks were arranged. My X-ray vision allowed me to peruse their contents. All were empty, except for one. I recognised the object it contained at once. It was the prize I had come for.

Elsewhere in the room, five men in white laboratory coats stood in a line. In front of them, a disorderly collection of seventeen men in uniforms. All twenty-two of the males present were eyeing me in a mixture of fear, awe and desire.  And all twenty-two of them had their hands in the air in surrender. Their guns had been thrown down on the floor in front of them. They'd obviously seen enough of what I can do. I gave them all a smug smile.

And you can find out what I did after that next time.



Wednesday 7 September 2005 21:37 BST (GMT+1)

I was, stark naked in all my (considerable) glory, facing down a small crowd of almost two dozen terrified men.


Like I said yesterday, seventeen of them were soldiers, who had thrown down their guns. Cowering behind them, five men in laboratory coats. Every one of them, whether a fighter or a scientist by trade, had his arms raised in the air and his eyes glued nervously on me. Haughtily, I cast my gaze over them for a few seconds, enjoying the way the tension built as I took my time. I knew they were all waiting for me to announce their fates and it amused me greatly to let them continue to sweat.

Eventually, I announced in a superior, commanding tone "The scientists will come forward. The rest of you will fetch me the sixth metal box from the left from over there." I pointed to the large containers on the far side of the huge room, and in particular, the one that my X-ray vision had revealed to contain the object of my quest.

There was a moment's hesitation from the men. That's to say, none of them moved with any great conviction for a second or two. I wasn't prepared to wait any longer to see if they were just being slow. I selected one of the soldiers and gave him an angry glare. A very angry glare. The sort of angry glare that only someone with heat-vision powers can achieve. The man I chose didn't even have time to scream before he became a pile of ashes.

"Anyone else having trouble hearing me?" I asked. The answer came in the form of men rushing to do as I'd told them. The remaining soldiers practically ran across the room towards the metal containers. The five men in white coats hurried towards me, albeit with plenty of apprehension. It'll come as no surprise to regular readers to learn that I'm an expert in reading fear in males. Let me tell you, those eggheads were about as scared as they come. It was all I could do not to laugh openly at them as they arranged themselves in front of me.

Meanwhile the military guys were having a little trouble working out exactly which box I wanted them to bring over. Eventually, they realised that it must be the heavy one. All the others were empty. They worked that out by trying to move them. Three of the soldiers, pushing together, could move an empty box. They couldn't lift them, but they could (with a concerted effort) just about scrape them along the concrete floor. The container I wanted was another story.


They crowded around it, straining and grunting, the perspiration beading on their faces. But for all their huffing and puffing, they only managed to move the box about two inches in a minute. The effort was clearly draining them. Sixteen men in peak physical condition, quickly becoming exhausted just trying to fetch a box. Normal people are so weak!

Given the soldiers' pathetically slow progress, I had plenty of time to address my hyper-attentive audience of scientists. "Do you men know what's in that box?" I asked. Three of them nodded, two shook there heads.

"Well," I said walking over to them, "if you two don't even know what it is, what use are you to me?" Before they could try to start thinking of an answer, I flashed out my left then my right hands, giving the two head-shakers the tiniest of shoves in the chest. They didn't touch the ground again until their bodies slid down from the wall fifty feet away from me.

The surviving three men in lab coats were visibly trembling as I strolled, slowly in front of them. "So, you three know what it is," I began, "but do you know how to use it?" They all nodded, extremely vigorously. My supersenses revealed a different story, however. One of the three heartbeats I was closely monitoring had suddenly accelerated. The owner of that heart was also sweating even more profusely than the others.

I approached him, in no hurry. "You're lying." I pronounced. "No... I-" An effortless backhand slap silenced him. (and separated his head from his shoulders.) I caught the gazes of the last two scientists. "Don't move a muscle." I told them. Somehow I knew they wouldn't disobey. I was free to turn my attention to the sixteen soldiers and their useless attempts to move a box.

Next time: How I moved that "heavy" container (and a little about its contents.)



Thursday 8 September 2005 17:45 BST (GMT+1)

hittled my collection of scientists down to the two who could be of use to me. Now I had to deal with sixteen soldiers who were (apparently) of no use whatsoever.

I'd asked them to perform a simple enough task for me. All they had to do was fetch a metal box. With the container measuring five foot long by three foot wide by four foot high, I hadn't thought it was such a big deal. But at the rate they were managing, I would have been standing there for about two days waiting. Funnily enough, I just wasn't prepared to do that.

Getting bored, I decided to amuse myself. Bending low for a moment, I plunged my fingers deep into the concrete floor at my feet, my hand penetrating the hard stone as if it were half-molten ice-cream. I scooped up a fistful of the material in my right hand, leaving a big gouge in the floor. Then I gently closed my fist around the block of concrete I'd removed, being careful not to crush it to powder (or beyond.) Instead, I reduced the chunk to a few dozen pea-sized fragments, which I kept in my hand.

Opening my fingers so that all the little bits of concrete lay on my palm, I used the index digit of my left hand to flick one fragment at a soldier over by the box. He fell instantly, as if he'd been shot. Then again, given the power of an easy flick of my finger, that piece of concrete would have been far deadlier than any bullet.

The man next to the fallen soldier turned to see what had happened, just in time to receive the next bit I flicked right between his eyes. That was enough to make all the others panic and start looking for cover. Laughing, I started the job of picking them off one by one with small pieces of concrete. It was like shooting fish in a barrel, but so much easier!

Some of the men tried to hide behind the other metal boxes. I just made sure I flicked my fragments hard enough to penetrate whichever thick steel container they thought was shielding them. The bits of concrete flew from my palm, passing right through the boxes and right through the men crouched behind them.

Two of the men managed to hide behind the box that I'd asked them to fetch. Maybe they knew its contents prevented me from flicking stuff through it, or maybe they just got lucky. Either way, it didn't matter. The solution was easy. A quick, well-aimed blast of heat vision at the ceiling twenty feet up dislodged a large amount of concrete which rained down on the box and the pair sheltering behind it. I knew the container was strong enough to withstand the falling debris. I also knew the men weren't.

Within twenty seconds, I had picked off every last soldier. To be honest, it was too easy. Sure it was funny while it lasted, seeing big, "strong" (!) men fall in response to a casual movement of one of my dainty fingers, but there was never any question that I would hit a chosen target first time.

Cleaning up wasn't exactly hard either. I pursed my sexy lips and blew a steady gentle stream of superbreath across the room, rotating my head slowly as I exhaled. My breath picked up all the bodies scattered around and threw them to the far wall, fifty or more yards away. I had to blow a tiny bit harder to move all the empty metal boxes aside, but I was still a long, long way from exerting myself.

When I stopped puffing, I'd cleared most of the room, except for the one box I was interested in and the two scientists standing, terrified, by my side. I did not need my supersenses to tell that saturating the atmosphere with my warm fragrant breath had brought both of the men in white coats to the point of spontaneous orgasm, despite their obvious fright. I took that as just another measure of my total power.

I looked at the box that held my prize. It was about thirty yards away from me. I could have walked over to it, but I had thought it would be amusing to ask the soldiers to bring it to me. In the end, it had proved too heavy for sixteen men to move. I'd had to provide my own amusement by killing them. Now, I had no-one to bring it to me. I probably would have needed a hundred or more males to shift it anyway.

It was time for me, the single, nude, slender, stunningly beautiful girl to do what all those men could not: to move that box. I knew without trying that I could have strolled up to it and lifted it above my head with a single finger. In fact, I reckon I could have hoisted twenty identical containers with that finger before I even began to notice any kind of effort.


But I did not move. Instead, I made the box come to me. I just faced it, parted my lips slightly, and inhaled deeply. Instantly, I sucked in every molecule of air from the area in front of me. Soon enough, the pull of my lungs became too much for the "heavy" metal container. It began to scrape along the concrete towards me, the friction as it moved creating impressive sparks.

As I continued to inhale, so the box gathered pace. It might have been too much for sixteen men to move a few inches, but this slim girl had no trouble at all making it race yards. Without even having to touch it! I just sucked it towards me, my gorgeous thick lips extended, silky cheeks concaved. Eventually, my lungs overpowered the forces of gravity keeping it on the floor and the box actually lifted off the ground, flying towards my face. That was when I stopped breathing in and, casually, caught the container just as it was about to slam into my mouth. It really didn't feel heavy at all to me. Those men must have been so pathetic!

I placed it on the ground and, with reasonable care, ripped the thick steel lid off with one hand, casting it aside so that it hit the far wall with a Clang! that shook the whole installation. Then, smiling with satisfaction, I reached in and pulled out my trophy, holding it before my eyes to examine it. I remembered one of the experts I spoke to before setting out on this visit. He had told me that the "thing" I was balancing on my palm had to weigh at least fifteen metric tonnes. No wonder I could barely even feel it.

In the next entry, I'll tell you what it actually was and what I did with it.



Friday 9 September 2005 17:28 BST (GMT+1)

ding to one of the experts I spoke to before leaving for Central Asia, the search for the "next big thing" in destructive weaponry has been underway since the early 1960s.

Apparently, the general consensus was that as both superpowers had atomic bombs, the weapons only really served as deterrents. Neither side could launch an assault against the other, without expecting an equally devastating response. So work began to create a new device.

The idea was to build something small enough to be concealable so that it could be delivered and detonated without any warning. A device so powerful and so destructive that, once it was activated there would be no chance of any return attack. As my contact put it: "A nuclear bomb deployed properly can destroy a major city. This little toy can destroy a country."

Interestingly, only one such device has ever been built. The problem, apparently, was that although small enough, the thing was so dense that it was too heavy to transport secretly or to deliver. Which is strange, as it didn't feel all that heavy as I held it out in front of my face, balanced comfortably on my right palm.

To be honest, it didn't look very exciting either. Annoyingly, there was no obvious "Explode" button anywhere on the object. I turned to the two scientists, the only survivors of the fifty-odd men who'd been in the base when I first "dropped in".

"So," I said, raising and lowering the super-bomb on my hand as if gauging its weight, "how do I work this thing."

"It.. it cannot be triggered without the launch chip." One of the two men stammered. The other just stared at me incredulously.

"Well, fetch me the launch chip then." I commanded.

"I... I... can't. It's not here." I could tell, by examining the speaker's vital signs with my supersenses that he wasn't lying.

"Where is it then?"

"It... was destroyed. Our leaders decided that the device should never be used. We have been trying to work out a way to dismantle it for years."

"Dismantle it?!" I was amazed. "What a waste of time and money. Make me a new chip."

"We can't. I swear, we can't. You can kill us or torture us, but we cannot make a new chip." There were tears in the scientist's eyes as he said those words. His pulse showed he was clearly telling the truth. I felt heartbroken, like a child who's just unwrapped a box which he thinks contains the toy he's always wanted, only to find nothing inside but a pair of socks.

"Is there no other way to set it off?" I asked the two men, pouting.

"Well, in theory..." one of them began. (Typical scientist, he started warming to his subject, despite the extreme situation he found himself in) "...a partial detonation might be possible under certain circumstances. In practice, it is not possible, however."

"What do you mean?" I demanded, suddenly very interested.

"Well, the internal trigger mechanism could be fooled, as it were, into firing under extreme pressure. But given the density of the packed matter, it would simply not be possible to generate sufficient forces artificially." said scientist number one.

"-Not without creating a small, controllable black hole." added scientist number two. "Which, of course, is impossible. Otherwise, you would need an object constructed of a material at least twice as dense as the core of the device."

"Two such objects." chimed in number one. "Then you could pressurise the trigger mechanism between them."

"But only if you could generate sufficient power to drive the two objects together!" number two took up the baton. "And that is well beyond our technology."

"Let me get this straight," I said. "I could set this thing off if by squeezing it?"

"Well, yes, in theory." said number one, smugly.

Number two seemed even more pleased with himself as he announced "Although, you'd need some kind of crusher built out of a new material vastly harder than any known to mankind. And an engine to drive it that is tens of times more powerful than any that's ever been built."

"Well that's no problem." I commented, truthfully. Men are such fools. In their willingness to show off their knowledge, those two eggheads had given me all the information I could possibly ever need. "Thanks guys." I said, with a smile that caused both their heart-rates to double instantly. "Why don't you both stick around and see if you're right?". The pair looked at each other, completely bemused.

So, was the super-girl able to set off the super-bomb? Of course I was! How dare you even doubt it! Next time I'll reveal exactly how I did it.



Monday 12 September 2005 19:51 BST (GMT+1)

ally was so kind of those two boffins to explain to me how I could trigger that contraption. Then again, they were well rewarded. They got to see me in all my naked glory for several minutes which is, undoubtedly, the greatest thing that can happen to a mere male. Other than, I guess, actually getting to touch my perfection...

Anyway, I had the super-bomb in my hand. All I needed to do was find a crushing device that was stronger, more resilient and vastly more forceful than any ever built. Nothing man-made would be up to the task. But, crucially, I'm not a man. And the crusher I decided to use wasn't "made" by anybody.

I drew my hand (the one holding the bomb, of course!) towards my body. Carefully, I aligned one end of it with my upper torso. The two men in white coats stared, at first with puzzlement, then surprise, then lust, then awe and finally terror as I slowly, deliberately, began to force the device into the deep, smooth valley between my breasts. They obviously hadn't realised that I had everything I needed already on me. Literally, on me.

There is no material tougher and more resistant to damage or harm than my flesh. Not now, since my little holiday in outer space where the sun's wonderful energy filled every cell of my being with unfiltered power. I knew that each of my large, round, irresistible breasts would serve magnificently as indestructible walls in an improvised crusher. Whatever the core of that bomb was made of, I was certain that any part of me would prove harder, tougher and stronger. Even my softest, most feminine, most sublimely erotic flesh.

I also knew that, by placing my hands on the outside of my chest, and using my recently-boosted-to-uncalculable-levels strength to push those fabulous breasts together, I could generate levels of pressure probably only matched inside a black hole. I say "probably", because I wouldn't be surprised to learn that the forces at play in a black hole couldn't quite match those present in my cleavage when I press my breasts against one another.

The bomb certainly did resist at first once I'd jammed it snugly between my mounds. Despite its weight (remember, it had been too much for more than a dozen big men to move) my breasts supported it without difficulty when I transferred my palms to the outside of my generous curves. One of my favourite "party tricks" is to ground a diamond to powder and then carbon gas between my breasts. I had to squeeze a lot harder than that before I felt the device beginning to yield.

But yield it did. It might have been the densest man-made object ever built, but it was no match for this girl. Certainly not for my chest. It seems that nothing, no force, no substance, no entity, can hold out against my breasts. They always triumph in the end. They must be the most beautiful, most sexy and most powerful things in the universe.


The noise that the bomb made as I slowly squeezed it in that supremely erotic vice was horrendous. It was as if the material was screaming in agony, or perhaps in protest at what I (or rather my chest) was doing to it, begging me, begging my breasts for mercy. I (and they) offered none. I just continued to press my mounds together, crushing, conquering, defeating the bomb; compressing it, compacting it. Squashing it.

My palms pressed into the outside of my chest, making a far deeper impression on that perfect flesh than the "world's densest object" could manage on the inside of my breasts. The scientists covered their ears to escape the terrible sounds emanating from the doomed material, but they couldn't tear their eyes away. What an honour for them to witness the glory of my magnificent body in action!

The edges of the bomb (the part of it wedged in my all-powerful cleavage anyway) were beginning to take on the shape of my lovely breasts. Lucky bomb. I knew I was really beginning to make an impression on it when one of the scientists shouted an expletive and his colleague repeated it a moment later. Still they could not look away from my chest. And still, I continued to squeeze.

But not for much longer. Like I said, my breasts always triumph in the end. And I always get what I want. That trigger mechanism never stood a chance...

Find out what happened when it finally succumbed to my vastly superior power next time.



Tuesday 13 September 2005 21:35 BST (GMT+1)

w the bomb was about to explode. The two scientists knew it too. It was all just so exciting!

If the thing really was as powerful as I'd been told, then it wouldn't have been right to just let it explode. It might have killed millions. Maybe some of those millions were good-looking men that I might want to rape at a later date. Or people who might be useful to me in other ways. Besides, it's much more fun hurting people in smaller groups, when I can do the damage with my own wonderful body and watch them getting hurt.

So, I curled myself up into a tight ball, keeping one end of the bomb wedged deep between my breasts and folding my head and knees over the other end, covering as much of the rest of it with my arms as I could. This meant that my body took around 99% of the force of the explosion. There were two advantages to this.

Firstly, millions of square miles (and yeah, yeah people, too. I already said that) were spared destruction. Much more importantly, I got to enjoy the full effects of the blast without having to share it too much. A large portion of my body was touching the surface, ready to absorb and enjoy the bang. I felt like a kid about to open a big pile of birthday presents.

I knew that I couldn't keep all the effects to myself, so I said a cheery "Bye, boys!" to the two scientists with me just before the big moment. And then it happened.

The casing of the thing just dissolved. It broke into millions of sharp pieces that tried to press into my skin, but of course they couldn't. So they just got hotter and hotter as they massaged my body (my chest, my belly, my face, my pelvis) until they turned to gas.

Then a wave of pure heat shot out from the core of the thing. The two men with me vanished in a puff of smoke. My body began to glow, first red then yellow and lastly pure, brilliant white. I don't think I've ever been so hot. The floor of the huge underground chamber and then the walls turned red. The ceiling began to collapse on top of me.


Actually, the feeling of hundreds of tons of concrete and earth pouring down on to my back was rather nice. But it didn't last for long. The bomb entered the blast phase of its detonation. Or rather, the super-bomb entered the super-blast phase of its super-detonation. And I should know, being a super-girl myself...

The power of that explosion is difficult to put into words. Perhaps I could best explain it like this: I was curled all around the thing, and I actually felt it trying to push me away. Hard. It was all I could do in fact to hold my position, using my white-hot body to absorb as much of the energy as possible. The shock-waves rammed into me so forcefully, they actually compressed my breasts (slightly). I will never forget that feeling. It was so sexy!

At the same time, bolt after bolt of pure power beat against my groin like someone pummelling a big oak door. I could feel the superheated pulses of energy penetrating my sex. I closed my eyes and let the inevitable orgasm explode from deep within me like my own little internal bomb. I was still riding the waves of ultra-intense pleasure when the second one broke. Then the third ripped through me, making me scream with pure pleasure.

I could feel earth and rocks moving around me. Perhaps it was the power of my scream, perhaps it was the bomb. I was dimly aware of no longer being buried under a hundred yards' worth of Central Asian plateau, but it was only when I opened my eyes that I saw what had happened. Somehow, I was a couple of thousand feet in the air, hovering in the sky, still glowing white-hot. Beneath me, I watched a billion tons of displaced ground falling back into place, burying any trace of the massive installation in an instant.

For about five minutes afterwards, I stayed motionless in the air. I couldn't even touch myself. It wasn't that I burnt myself, even though I was probably tens of thousands of degrees. It was just that any contact anywhere on my body triggered another orgasm. I had to keep dead still, watching myself cooling down until I could fly without the air friction sending me into yet more sexual frenzy.

I used the time to observe the area of disturbed ground below me. A region about five miles in diameter had been torn up and thrown into the air only to resettle as churned earth. Three miles around that had been charred nearly black. And for a further ten miles further around that every single tree had been felled. Quite a big explosion, all told. Especially considering I'd borne almost the entire brunt of it. But then again, I'm quite a girl, aren't I?



Wednesday 14 September 2005 17:27 BST (GMT+1)

guess you all want to know what I did after I'd finished with the bomb. And the installation it was being kept in.

Well, I didn't hang around to help with the clean up! There was only one place I was going after that. Straight up. I rocketed into space, my body still glowing with heat and surplus energy. I felt the familiar caress of the sun's rays on me as I left the Earth's atmosphere. Lovely. It wasn't about feeling powerful, it was about being powerful. The most powerful being in existence.

I flew in a beeline for Mars. I was going fast, but not at my maximum, but I still made it in a little over an hour. I spent almost a day there, indulging my peaking sexual sensitivity by crushing bits of the planet against my thighs, my face, my breasts and my groin. I lost count of the number of orgasms I enjoyed. I only came home in the end because I wanted to post the blog and show off what I'd done. That and the fact that the best thing about being a supergirl is living in a world full of non-super men. I just love being so superior, and there's no-one to prove it to on Mars.

Oh yes, it's great to be me. It's great to be me because I am great.



Thursday 15 September 2005 17:59 BST (GMT+1)

ou've been wondering what I got up to in the days since I got back from Central Asia via Mars.

Well, amongst other things that I won't tell you about, I've invented a new sport. It's called "balcony snatching." It works like this: I cruise about the skies, too high to be spotted by the pathetic eyes of normal people. As soon as I spot a nice looking man (or, better, two or three) on a balcony, I fly down fast. Next I swoop beneath the balcony. With a blast of heat-vision, I separate the entire ledge from the building it's attached to. It doesn't matter if it's joined by concrete or by bricks and steel girders. My eyes take care of any thickness of any material in a split-second.

Of course the balcony is now loose and starts to fall. I just reach up and let it rest on my upturned palms. The weight is insignificant to me as I fly upwards, carrying the whole balcony and its terrified occupants. After a few minutes' flight during which I might perform a few tricks (such as throwing the load and catching it again or shaking it around) just to tease my passengers, I come down on top of a high building or bridge or monument. Anywhere from where it's extremely difficult (preferably impossible) to get down...

I put down the balcony, jump in and have my way with the bewildered male or males inside until they beg for a rest. Then I have my way with them a little more. As soon as I'm done, I kiss my lover on the lips and just fly off, leaving him there, in his balcony, until someone sends a helicopter to rescue him.

It's great fun although I'm not sure if it'll become an Olympic sport...



Friday 16 September 2005 19:09 BST (GMT+1)

er fun new sport from my collection: "Pilot Teasing".

Once again, this begins with me prowling the skies. As soon as I spot a plane, I fly under it, reach up and take it under my control. My strength and flight powers are a thousand times more powerful than any jet engine, so I can take the craft wherever I want, regardless of what the pilot tries to do with his rudder or his flaps or his motors. I usually fly around in circles or funny up-and-down wavy patterns, depending on my mood. With my superhearing, I get to hear all kinds of funny radio conversations involving panicking, bewildered pilots.

Sometimes, I put the plane down in the middle of the sea when I'm done and fly away underwater. Sometimes I leave it perched on the edge of a cliff or on a mountainside and make my retreat too fast to be seen. A few of my toy aircraft just blow up before I can find anywhere amusing to dump them. It's fun when that happens too...



Monday 19 September 2005 17:25 BST (GMT+1)

eekend is when people usually look to have their fun. But, when you're as powerful as I am (and everybody else around you is as weak as you are) then you can have fun all the time.

There are so many ways I can amuse myself when the fancy takes me. I've already mentioned two of my favourite games. Here's a third: "Rod-less fishing". It works like this:

I hover about thirty feet up in the air above a street at night. Naturally, no-one expects anyone (let alone a young girl as physically perfect as me) to be floating on air. Nobody looks up, nobody sees me. I just "stand" there, waiting patiently for a suitable-looking male to wander past. When I spot one, I don't swoop down on him, I "fish" him in. I just stay exactly where I am, look down on my catch, purse my lips and suck hard. Of course, at that distance, one man is no challenge at all for my lungs. The confused creatures are pulled off the road by my inhalation and fly right up to me. I stop sucking at the last second (I don't want the guys to splatter into my face) and grab them with one hand to stop them falling.

Once I've landed my catch, I decide what to do with it. Quite a lot of them I keep for later to satisfy my "appetite". Some I just throw back where I got them from. Such wonderful sport!



Tuesday 20 September 2005 19:26 BST (GMT+1)

was sunbathing this morning, just relaxing and letting the sun's rays do their special thing.

I found a great spot where I thought I couldn't possibly be disturbed, took off my top and let my lovely chest bathe in the delicious solar radiation. It might have been a hundred degrees below zero, but then it's never warm a mile above the Earth's atmosphere. I don't mind. A hundred below is quite comfortable for me...

Anyway, I closed my eyes and thought of happy things like a room full of naked, well-built young men begging me for mercy. Sadly, my daydream was rudely interrupted by a communications satellite which had silently come up on me in its orbit and smacked into my head. The shape of my skull was clearly visible in the side of the tiny artificial moon when, surprised (but obviously not hurt) by the impact, I took a look.

A quick sweep of my hands over the exterior of the thing detached all the aerials, dishes and panels and sent them spiralling down towards Earth. That left just the main section of the satellite. It was about twice the size of me in length. I put my arms around it to show there were no hard feelings after the collision. Then I gave it a little hug.

The metal casing crumpled up against me, taking on the precise shape of the front of my body. The circuitry inside cracked, sparked and crumbled as I gently squeezed, my supposedly soft breasts crushing the satellite to scrap. When I opened my arms, the thing was about a tenth of its original size. I gave it a parting shove, breaking its orbit and sending it Earthwards. It might burn up in the atmosphere, or it might survive re-entry and give someone a nasty headache when it comes down.

Anyway, if you were making an international call earlier which was unexpectedly cut off, it's probably because of me. I won't apologise though. You should have thought of me before dialling. Next time, be more considerate. Use a satellite that isn't in my way.



Wednesday 21 September 2005 19:16 BST (GMT+1)

topping up my "tan" yesterday, (alright, I don't tan, but I do get other benefits from exposure to the sun, so I'm sure you all know what I mean) I thought I do some experimenting today.

I was curious about my new flight powers and my (I know, I can't get over it, either) increased (!) strength and how those two abilities might work together to allow me to do something I've never done before.

You see, I've messed around in the water as long as I can remember, swimming faster than a speedboat, holding my breath under the surface for days, punching holes in the bottom of ships, capsizing them by blowing a kiss at them... But I've never lifted a really big ship clean from the water. I haven't been able to as I didn't have anything strong enough to stand on as I lifted... until now. Now, of course, I have flight powers.

I used to be so impressed at the way I could swim at nearly two hundred miles an hour. But now, I can "fly" through water, even under the crushing pressures of the Pacific floor, at ten times that speed. I was able to spend the morning shooting around the Ocean, making sure I found the biggest, heaviest-looking vessel out of the hundreds I checked out for my experiment.

My selection was a fully-laden oil supertanker, a massive craft that must weigh thousands upon thousands of tonnes. I swam up underneath it, pressed my hands on the ridge of its enormous steel hull, locked my arms and concentrated on flying upwards. There was a half-second of resistance on my body and I really felt as if I was in a struggle, but it soon became clear that there was only going to be one winner between the forces of the universe and me.

I felt myself rising through the water more than I felt the ship rising above me. I could feel the pressure, the enormous bulk above pushing down on me, but my arms were comfortable holding that bulk at full stretch. My head burst the surface much sooner than I expected. I let out a triumphant cry as the rest of my body came up out of the water because, at that moment, I knew I had succeeded with utter ease. I had lifted a supertanker out of the water and supported its entire weight with my flight powers (and, of course, the strength of my shapely arms.)

There was nothing left but to fly the ship to the nearest deserted bit of land and put it down, carefully, about twenty yards from the shoreline. If anyone wants that monster back in the sea they've got two choices. One: they can ask me to pick it up and carry it back (it would take me about thirty seconds to accomplish, but I'm sorry, I can't be bothered to help...) That leaves option two as the only viable choice: they can do it themselves.

With equipment, a team of fifty should be able to manage it in a little over a day...



Thursday 22 September 2005 17:53 BST (GMT+1)

was an interesting interview on the local news this afternoon with a spokesman for the zoo down the road.

Struggling to reassure the public that they were not at risk from his animals, he was at a complete loss to explain how, overnight, one of their adult African elephants had escaped from his enclosure. He kept insisting that the animal had not busted out, as the twenty-foot-high bars on all four sides were still perfectly intact. But he was completely lost for words when pressed to suggest a theory as to how the elephant had ended up on the flat roof of the zoo's three-storey office building.

Apparently, there's no way the thing could have climbed up there, or made his way up via the stairs inside the building as the they are far too narrow. To move an animal of that size, the spokesman explained, requires a massive specialist crane and a crew of six men. The operation would require several hours to complete.


Which just shows how wrong a so-called "expert" can be. I picked that pachyderm up with one hand under his belly, flew up to the roof with him, put him down and just flew off. Six men? Several hours? Try one girl and ten seconds.

 


Friday 23 September 2005 17:39 BST (GMT+1)

ped over to California this morning for a few hours (Ah, it's great being able to fly ten times faster than an airliner under my own, incalculable, power).

Whilst I was there I had some fun with a group of surfers. I joined them riding a wave. Of course, I didn't have a board, but you don't need one when you can fly. They didn't notice my bare, unaided feet at first. I guess they weren't looking at my feet, what with the brief swimsuit I'd squeezed myself into...

They only realised that I was no conventional surfer when I started to do some somersaults and jumps that weren't humanly possible. By then, one guy had fallen in trying to copy me. Another slipped off when I "surfed" close by and bent over, showing off my chest. He lost concentration and went straight into the sea. I got the third with the gentlest little jet of superbreath. He lost his board and went spinning over the waves for about fifty feet until he splashed down.

After I'd made sure they were all well bathed, I fished them out, carrying all three of them by the waistbands of their shorts with my left hand. I dumped them on the beach. They were too shocked to put up much of a fight as I ripped off their trunks.

Ten minutes later, I was in the sky headed back for home. But I doubt those boys will be doing much surfing for a few weeks...



Monday 26 September 2005 17:17 BST (GMT+1)

well... Who would have thought there would have been a secret mini-space station orbiting the Earth?

Normally, governments are so proud about any achievements in space exploration, they can't wait to tell the world. So, when a major country puts a tiny laboratory into orbit and doesn't say a word about it, you can bet that someone is up to something sneaky. Especially when they've gone to all the trouble of manning it...

The way I found it was quite funny, actually. I was just on my way to Mars to pass a couple of hours somewhere where I knew I wouldn't be disturbed. I'd closed my eyes after leaving the atmosphere, to concentrate on feeling the lovely effects of solar radiation on my body. Besides, it's not exactly a difficult journey (you find the right direction and then keep going straight until you hit the red planet.)

Anyway, I almost flew straight into (and probably, right through) the little satellite, but I noticed it at the last moment and brought myself to a complete halt. My first thought was "That shouldn't be there." so I decided to investigate. That's when I noticed that the thing had a small, round observation window and that's when I realised I'd stumbled upon something really interesting.

I flew around to the window and peered inside. My gaze was met by two young men cramped inside in full space suits. Despite the reflective visors in the front of their helmets, I had no trouble at all seeing the shock on their faces. I'll assume that they were a little surprised to see someone floating around outside without an environment suit, and that the stunned expressions were not purely down to my (admittedly stunning) beauty.

I gave the two boys a smile which did nothing to ease the panic they were showing. They were both shouting, presumably into their radios. I like to travel low-profile, and I didn't want them telling all the folks back home about their unexpected visitor, so I reached up with my left arm and snapped off all the inch-thick antennas and bolted-on dishes with a casual wave of my hand, letting them float off into the void. From the desperate flicking of switches and pressing of buttons inside the capsule which I observed, I knew I'd successfully cut off their communications.

I was just about to see if I could find the door (or better yet, install a new door in my own unique style) to go in and join them, when I had an even better idea. I'd been on my way to Mars. The unanticipated company was no reason for me to change my plans. I decided to go anyway, and to take my two new friends along with me.

I placed my hands on the side of the satellite and started to fly, pushing it in front of me. The thing was equipped with small rockets, presumably for course-adjustment. I guess the two chaps inside fired them off in an attempt to get away from me. All I know for certain is that a blast of burning liquid oxygen shot out of the side of the craft right into my face, bathing me in fire. It almost tickled me.

It was a little warm inside the rocket flame, but not uncomfortable. As for the effect of the jet on the satellite's
movement, well, I didn't notice any extra resistance as I pushed the craft through space. Either the engines were pathetically weak or I'm unthinkably strong. Probably, it's both.

I kept us all on course for the red planet, keeping my speed way down as I was afraid that the satellite (not to mention its contents) would fall apart if I tried to push it at even a fraction of my maximum. That's why it took nearly four hours to complete the journey. The only entertainment en route was the sight of the two desperate, terrified males inside. For some reason, no matter how many times I winked at them or smiled possessively, they seemed unwilling to relax. Maybe they knew it wasn't going to be their day...

Anyway, I'll tell you what happened when we reached Mars next time.



Wednesday 28 September 2005 21:43 BST (GMT+1)

y geek will tell you, the Martian atmosphere is extremely thin. So much so, that I didn't really notice it as I pushed my new toy through it. The little satellite-cum-mini-space-station was more than resilient enough to survive the re-entry. Even the pathetic, fragile creatures inside, so hopelessly dependent on their clumsy, clunky protective suits and their complex life-support equipment, were never in any real danger (not from the friction their craft encountered anyway).

I flew us all down towards the surface at a boringly slow pace so as not to damage the contents in transit. The weight of the thing, under the red planet's weak gravity was as good as zero to me. I could have placed it delicately down on the barren dusty ground to bring about the gentlest, most controlled touchdown in the history of space exploration.  But, of course, I didn't. I just let go of the capsule about fifteen feet up and let it bounce violently. It wasn't designed for landing and it rolled onto its side when it finally came to rest.

I came down far more gracefully, onto my feet right next to the craft. My X-ray vision allowed me to see the very shaken, obviously terrified but still very much conscious men inside. Because of the way it had rotated, I had to bend over to smile at them through the circular observation window where they could see me. That meant they were also treated to a view of my pendant breasts. I could see from their eyes that even under those circumstances, my charms still had a powerful effect.

There seemed little point bringing those two fellows all that way and not letting them become the first humans ever to touch the surface of another planet, but I figured they might be a little reluctant to come out by themselves so I decided to help them in my own, unique style. I noticed a seam in the side of the satellite that was obviously a docking and/or entry point and was about to prise it open with my fingers when the ogling stares I was receiving gave me another idea.

I straightened up in front of the porthole-like window, so that my head was a couple of feet above it. What a view those guys must have enjoyed, possibly the most astonishing sight any "normal" people have ever beheld. I don't mean the dreary landscape of Mars, of course. I mean my naked chest, which was exactly in front of the round view-port. The sight got even better for them a moment later as I pushed out my breasts and leant into the window.

 

The special transparent material used was designed and installed to survive the pressures, frictions and impacts of travel through and beyond the atmosphere of planet Earth. Naturally, it was no match at all for my sexy mounds. My breasts barely yielded at all before cracks spread rapidly outwards from the points where my nipples pressed into the pane. An instant later, the window gave way, the thick material smashing into countless pieces which fell onto my chest, inside the craft, onto the shocked astronauts and on to the red ground. I brushed the fragments from my breasts and out of my cleavage as I stood up.

The porthole was too small for me to drag both men in their bulky suits through at once. So I had to reach in twice, pulling each of them out in turn with a single hand and setting them down on the ground, making sure their oxygen tubes were still attached to their suits and to the tanks inside the little craft. Such weak things, dependent on a rubber hose to live! Me, I'm perfectly comfortable in a vacuum. I only need air in my lungs to exhale it at hurricane force, not to survive.

Incidentally, I suppose I should have taken the trouble to find out the name of the one I pulled out before the other (the first man on Mars) but he was only a man, so I didn't see the point, to be frank. Anyway, once they were both out I stood facing them, my hands on my hips, while they glanced at one another and then at me, totally unsure what to do. I raised an eyebrow, and the panic that brought to the two male faces nearly made me burst out laughing. Unfortunately for the two men, neither of them seemed to get the joke.

I think I'll leave things there for today. More next time!



Thursday 29 September 2005 20:43 BST (GMT+1)

ood for a couple of moments like that on the deserted plains of Mars, the two astronauts and me. It was fun letting them sweat despite the fact that they were wearing their carefully regulated environment suits.

I'd made sure, as I always do, that I'd filled my amazing lungs with Earth air earlier in the day, before I'd even reached the upper atmosphere, so that by exhaling as I spoke, I was able make the sound carry as far as the two men's helmets which must have reverberated dramatically with my words. Of course I had to be careful just to produce enough wind to transport my voice and not to blow the pair into orbit, but, luckily for them, along with super power, I also have super control.

"Well, boys," I said, "are you going to thank me for the lift, or are you just going to stand there?"

"Who... what... who... are you?" one of them stammered in response. I could hear him fine, even though there was a near-vacuum between us, thanks to my marvellous super-senses.

"I'm just a girl." I answered, shaking my lovely chest a little to emphasise my point. Looking down with my X-ray vision, I could see that both men fully appreciated what I was. Or at least their organs appreciated it. I reached out towards them, extending one hand towards each groin "But I see that you already know that." I added as I gently gripped the crotch of the two space-suits, one in either hand.

I lifted them both off the red soil with a single arm each, hoisting them by the thick metal-fibred fabric underneath their testicles until their feet were level with my waist. To be honest, I didn't notice their weight at all, but I could feel them squashing up inside, the throbbing manhood resting on each of my palms actually exciting me (for a moment). I knew that proper contact was out of the question, which was a shame. Otherwise I definitely would have taken the pair of them there and then.

"Wow, you both really like me. That's sweet." I observed, commenting on the increased pulsating I could clearly detect inside the space suits through the layers of specialist fabrics. I bent my arms, lowering the two men slightly and drawing them both closer to my body so that their fish-bowl-covered faces were just inches from my nipples. That really made the throbbing increase.

"So..." I said, holding them dead still right in front of my glorious breasts as I slowly undulated my body like an exotic dancer, "...do you boys come here often?"

There was no answer. "Aw," I said, pouting and saturating my voice with mock concern, "they're shy." I started to move my fingers very slightly. Not enough to hurt them properly, but more than enough to massage their already overexcited reproductive equipment through their thick space-costumes. Looking down at their faces, I saw the two pairs of eyes rolling upwards, heard the groans they uttered and felt the spasming inside the suits. I could even detect the jets of man-juice splattering on the inside.

"Boys!" I said, pretending to be shocked. "Have you no self-control? You're supposed to be men of science, exploring new frontiers! Here you are, the first men on Mars, and all you want to do is indulge your base instincts. And on a first date too. I'm shocked!" So saying, I took my hands away and let them both drop, still orgasming, onto their posteriors right by my feet. The twin impacts raised small clouds of red dust.

"That is NOT what I meant when I asked if you come here often." I chastised them. I crossed my arms under my chest, making my breasts even more prominent than before. "What a pair of typical men! What kind of girl do you think I am?" There was no reply other than the continued groans of sexual release.

"Well, if you've got nothing to say for yourselves, then fine. I WAS going to offer you both a lift home, but now I don't think I want to be with you any more. You can make your own way back." I heard the beginnings of their protestations which grew into yells of desperation as I effortlessly rose off the planet's surface, but I pretended not to notice.

In no time at all I was streaking back towards Earth, far faster than any rocket that's ever been built (probably faster than any that will ever be built in the future, too). Whenever they finally get an astronaut to Mars without my help, it'll be interesting to see what they make of what I left behind. No doubt, I'll be at hand to explain.

I have to stop typing now. I can't stop laughing as I think about it...



Friday 30 September 2005 19:16 BST (GMT+1)

Mars is very nice (if you like the colour red, dust and nothing else) but there's always something to be said for home comforts.

For starters, on Earth, I can rip a man's clothes off him without his internal organs immediately exploding. That comes in handy for those times when, just like a normal (weak and fragile) human, I fancy a little bit of intimacy. Of course, the great advantage of being both superhumanly powerful and superhumanly gorgeous is that I can enjoy that intimacy with whichever male (or males) I choose - whether or not the creature (or creatures) in question is initially of a similar frame of mind.

For example, the other morning, just before dawn, I was taking a nice leisurely flight over the Himalayas when I spotted a brightly-coloured tent pitched on a ledge about halfway up the side of a large mountain. With my great visual abilities, I was able to examine the bodies of the two dormant men inside, even though they were both wrapped in thermal sleeping bags. Seeing that they were both rugged, muscular-climber-types I decided to pay them a visit.

I swooped down to the front of the tent and removed my clothes. It was about ten degrees centigrade below freezing and the wind was howling, but I was perfectly comfortable, thank you. I used my left hand to yank the entire tent free of its moorings, tearing the pins holding it down from the rock they were embedded in and ripping the top of the covering from the ground sheet below in one, effortless pull. Unsurprisingly, that was enough to wake the two fellows inside.

"'Morning chaps!" I said breezily. "I hope you've had a good rest, because you're going to need plenty of energy!"

Thirty minutes later, I was back in the air, the warm glow of a pleasant (if small) orgasm in my loins. The climbers were back asleep (or unconscious to be more precise), utterly exhausted from the efforts of trying to please me. I would have been sitting in my armchair at home by the time either of them came to. It was a pity (for them) that I had to break the leg of one and the arm of the other, but I had to make sure they were in no doubt that I wouldn't tolerate any slacking. I wonder how they managed to get down. Perhaps they didn't. If so, it serves them right for being such average lays.