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April 2006



Tuesday 4 April 2006 21:46 BST (GMT+1)

The voice that was actually the alien mothership that was actually Duane’s disembodied sister (are you with me?) was telling its/her story.

“I was drifting, but I didn’t know where. I couldn’t see or hear or smell or taste or touch anything because I had no body to provide that sensory information. My existence was nothing more than a collection of brainwave-particles in the void. So I don’t know where this ship came from. One moment there was nothing, the next, the ship.”

“I guess we crossed paths. Whatever happened, it was immediately obvious that we were inter-compatible. The ship’s equipment transmitted data about its status and environment and my brainwaves interpreted it. It was as if I suddenly had feelings again. Through the on-board sensors, I gained senses. It even gave me a “body”. I could control the vessel’s navigation by thought, meaning “I” could “move” where I wanted. It was the next best thing to having my original body back.”

“There was no trace of life anywhere on the ship. I scanned its databanks, just like searching through my memory for the face of an old friend, but I found nothing. No record of any previous owners or occupants. No reason why I should relinquish my new form. So I kept it.”

“With a spaceship for a body, the whole universe was mine to explore. But there was only one place I wanted to go. I sent the brainwave command to the navigation and propulsion systems to head for Earth. I figured the best possible source of a replacement humanoid body would be my home planet. And, of course, there was the added incentive of making my brother pay for what he did to me.”

“During the journey, I discovered that the ship could act as an amplifier for my brainwaves. That’s how the engines of such a massive craft (my sensors tell me that it is huge) can be powered by little more than my thoughts alone. I began to realise that I had stumbled upon a way to take the research I had conducted into the uses and properties of brainwaves to a whole new level. With just my own mind, and the ship to boost its energy, I could do things that had previously been nothing more than a hypothetical dream.”

“But I knew that such a huge spacecraft arriving suddenly on Earth would become a target for every weapon in existence. So I parked out here. The ship’s instruments didn’t know Mars by name, but I recognised it from the data. I figured it would make a good low-profile base of operations where I wouldn’t be disturbed. I… I guess I was wrong about that,” explained Duane’s sister.

“But,” Ultragirl interrupted, “why did you shoot me with that awful weapon?”

“I assumed you were hostile. I have a right to defend myself!” protested the no-longer-such-a-mystery voice. “The ship had no armaments when I first, er, occupied it. But I found an energy discharge point that, with amplified brainwaves, made for an excellent ray-cannon.”

“You could have killed me!” Ultra pointed out.

“And you might have killed me,” responded Ms. Perkins.

“Calm down, both of you!” I ordered. “So far, no-one’s been killed..“

“Yes they have!” Ultra corrected me. “Down on the planet. In the cities. By those girls.”

“Yes, I’m sorry about that.” the ship said. “Things got a bit out of hand.”

“So, you were responsible for those probes?” demanded Ultragirl.

“Probes?” inquired the voice, before recognition dawned. “Oh, the small ships! Yes, that was me. They were just little pieces of the big ship (my body), independently powered by a tiny portion of my brainwaves. It started as an experiment, really. Just an attempt to take a look around on Earth without getting close - well, at least without getting the main part of the ship close. I had to take apart a huge area of the craft just to find the few bits actually capable of independent flight.”

“But those probes turned all those girls into… into evil robots!” Ultragirl exclaimed.

“Yes, I suppose it might have appeared that way,” the mothership acknowledged. “That was not my intention… at first. I was discovering more and more things that could be done with brainwaves. With my new-found control over what you call the “probes”, I could get really close to human subjects on Earth. I was searching for a suitable new body when I got side-tracked, conducting experiments through the small ships using amplified brain-wave transmission techniques.”

“During one of these experiments, I accidentally stumbled upon a method for altering the DNA of a human female. I found that I could make every cell in a subject’s body a million times more efficient. With a little modification, I found I had created a blueprint for turning any woman into a superhuman version of herself. Of course, the brainwave link also allowed me to maintain total control over my experiments, long after the DNA-alteration had occurred.”

"I realised at once that one of these DNA-altered superhuman bodies would make an excellent replacement for the one my brother usurped me from. But which one to chose? That's when I decided it would be beneficial to, as it were, "audition" a number of possible new bodies."

"So, that's why none of the girls who got zapped were ugly!" chimed in Ultragirl.

"Yeah, I was trying to work out why aliens would only select hot young women with great breasts." I added, by way of backing-up Ultra's realisation.

"Well, if I was to have my pick of new body, I decided I might as well make sure it was aesthetically pleasing with, as you put it "great breasts"."

"So," I asked, "why five hundred of them?"

"Four hundred and ninety-six." The mothership corrected. "It's a nice number, don't you think? It's factors add up to-"

"-Yeah, yeah," I interrupted. "Why so many?"

"Well I had to stop because you two were dragging them all off the planet into space," the voice said.

"You mean you could have... would have made... more?" I asked.

"My original plan was to chose the best from three thousand, seven hundred and twelve. I was hoping to have my pick from each of the major ethno-genetic pools. You see, each has its various merits, for example the-"

"-three thousand seven hundred!" I interjected. "And you were going to make all of them superhuman?"

"Yes. Until I had made my choice. Then I would have restored the others to their original states," said Duane's sister's brainwaves, flatly.

"You can restore them?" Ultragirl asked, incredulously.

"Why didn't you do it when they were attacking you? Why did you just blast them with that other ray?" I asked, disbelievingly.

"Why haven't you tried to "restore" us?" Ultragirl asked, nervously.

"I... I... Ah... That is... It isn't... Well, I kind of haven't quite perfected a "restoration" method yet. I'm almost there..."

"You're an even bigger jerk than your brother!" I accused.

"There's no need for insults, Blogger," Ultragirl admonished before going on to address the voice/mothership/sister/jerk: "Do you realise how irresponsible your behaviour has been?"

"Perhaps I should have completed development of the DNA-downgrade device before beginning my auditions. But I never expected my plans to be disrupted."

"What did you expect? That I'd stand by, doing nothing, while your auditionees smashed up city-centres and hurt people?" Ultragirl demanded. The way she said "hurt people" made it sound as if that wasn't a fun thing to do.

"I didn't expect anything," the voice replied. "I had no idea such beings as you, or your friend, existed. Are you brainwave engineers? You seem more powerful than the ones I altered."

"It's just as well we are more powerful," Ultra retorted, going on the verbal attack, "otherwise who knows how many innocent people might have been harmed by your experiments! I just don't understand. Why? Why did you make them so... so violent, so destructive?"

"Well, I wanted to fully test their abilities. What better way than by making them hostile so that all manner of weaponry would be used against them?" the mothership answered.

"That makes sense." I noted. "It can be really hard work getting the military to open fire on me too, sometimes."

"But... People - innocent people - got killed!" Ultra pointed out, clearly more than a little disgusted with my blasé attitude.

"So, now you know everything," the voice said, trying to deflect attention away from any moral judgement of its actions by appealing to our sympathies (a waste of time with me. I have no 'sympathy') "I am living a constant hell, a person with no body, my physical identity stolen from me. Please! You must help me! All I ask is for is a body. One body... I could do so many things for you in return."

"You're a criminal. You should be put on trial!" Ultragirl declared. "We're not interested in your offers of bribery."

"What kind of things could you do for me?" I wondered, out loud.

More next time...



Wednesday 5 April 2006 22:14 BST (GMT+1)

“Blogger, we have to take it… er… her in to the authorities to stand trial…” said Ultragirl, her boring, hypocritical “moral code” coming to the fore with irritating predictability.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You FEEL that you have to take her in.” I translated.

“I can make you more powerful than your wildest dreams.” Duane’s sister offered, obviously nervous after Ultra’s statement, and perhaps hoping to drive a wedge between me and Ultra by trying to 'corrupt' me.

I laughed. “I’m already more powerful than anybody’s wildest dreams. You’ll have to do better than that.”

“There are things that I can do with brainwaves that would stun even you,” insisted the voice.

"You couldn't even defend yourself a moment ago. If I hadn't rescued you, your oversized "body" would have been torn to pieces by your own mind-slaves!" I reminded her. "And you reckon you can do things that would stun me?! Things like what, exactly?"

"Things like this!" she replied.

To be continued...



Thursday 6 April 2006 21:31 BST (GMT+1)

For someone who can do just about anything she wants (when she wants, how she wants and without any care for the consequences) there are quite a number of things that I won't do.

Included in the list of "Forget about Blogger ever doing any of the following" are all the Ultragirl specialities like "sympathy", "help", "rescue", "nice", "respecting the rights of others", "sparing lives" and so forth. Also there are commodities which you inferior creatures are no doubt more than familiar with, such as "fear" and "mortality".

So, when Duane's sister announced her intention to demonstrate the power of her brainwaves by trumpeting "Things like this..." I was not afraid. I wasn't even nervous. I've had a nuclear warhead detonate between my thighs and the only effect it had (other than giving me a very enjoyable orgasm) was to make me want another. I've touched the surface of the sun and the (supposedly) unreachable core of Jupiter, again, without any discomfort. What reason did I have to be afraid?

Only one reason, of course. Ms. Perkins' main ray-gun which, I'll confess, did cause me some inconvenience the one time I encountered it. But, I figured, we'd already disabled it. So there was nothing left to cause me concern. Or so I thought.

When a small section of the side of the ship/Duane's sister's body near me started to vibrate, I didn't react. When it started to glow orange then red then yellow and, finally, white, I still didn't react. And when the glow appeared to contract and focus on a tiny circle of the dull, smooth metal, I continued not to react.

When that small, brilliant disc suddenly became three-dimensional and began to stretch out away from the ship like a long finger reaching towards me, I suppose I should have reacted. Instead, as you've probably guessed, I didn't.

But, when the glowing white finger reached my abdomen and poked at it in a way which I didn't like at all, well then I just had to react. It was just like that main weapon. No, it didn't hurt. Closing my eyes and yelling was just an involuntary, knee-jerk reaction. I don't know what that beam was made of (pure amplified brainwave energy?) but it felt unlike just about anything I've ever encountered before. Hell, the fact that I "felt" it at all means it must have been amazingly powerful.

In fact, I felt it a little bit too much for my liking. I could tell that, if it went on for much longer, I would quickly start to really hate it. Just the two seconds of it were more than enough. It made me wonder (later, when the intense and unpleasant sensations weren't occupying so much of my mind) about the staggering potential of brainwave technology. I mean, if a ray can cause me such discomfort, it's probably powerful enough to destroy an entire planet...

Anyway, even though I was not in any kind of pain, I was keen (not desperate or anxious, just keen) for the sensation to cease. I did what anyone would have done under the circumstances. I lashed out in the general direction the unpleasantness was coming from. With my fist. As hard as I could.

My knuckles connected with the side of the ship with a metallic Thud! that made the Thump!s of the almost five hundred Duane-crazed girls seem like a dull tap in comparison. I could feel the mile-wide spacecraft reverberating from the sheer force of my blow, even before I saw it actually vibrating. And how it vibrated! Imagine a plucked guitar string, but as wide and as large as a small town.

At this point, Duane's sister yelled. Or more precisely screamed. I can't really depict the sound she made. It was loud, very shaky and it conveyed agony and terror. I wish I had recorded it to share it with you as an mp3. It was such fun to hear! Especially in the knowledge that I was the sole cause of it.

An approximate transcription of the sound follows:

"AaaaAAAaaa AAAAaaaGGGggg GGGggghhHHHhhh HHHHhhh!"

Needless to say, the beam that had provoked me into delivering that hard-enough-to-obliterate-a-mountain blow stopped immediately. I won't lie: I was very pleased about that.

The ray had ceased. Even the ship's scream had come to an end. But the vibrating my feminine fist had induced was still going strong. That wasn't because of any fault with the vessel or the unknown materials it was constructed from. It was because of the fantastic power of my perfect, sexy body. I could not resist letting my gorgeous lips part in a proud smile.

"Wwwhhhaaaattt hhaavvee yyoouu ddoonnee ttoo mmee??" wobbled Duane's sister's brainwaves, "Iitt hhuurrttss!!"

"Good." I said, by way of response. "Next time, I'll hit you properly."

"Nnoo!" both voice and spacecraft continued to shake. "Pplleeaassee! Nnoo mmoorree!"

I laughed. "Well, so much for what you have to offer me. Now I'd imagine you'd be more interested in hearing my proposal. Especially as you've got no choice..."

"Blogger," Ultragirl interrupted me, mid-gloat, "we have to hand her over to the authorities..."

"I don't think they make handcuffs large enough for alien spaceships, Blondie," I observed. "Perhaps you should wait until you've heard my idea first."

To her eternal credit, Ultra was kind enough to do just that. And next time, I'll tell you all about the plan I proposed.



Monday 10 April 2006 21:19 BST (GMT+1)

So, Duane’s sister, via her new “body” (the alien spaceship) had tried to zap me with one of her rays again. This time, I was too close. Close enough to smash my fist down on that “body”, shaking it up badly, further disrupting her already disrupted power supplies.

Now I had her attention. “Here’s what I propose.” I announced. “You need a body that is less than a mile wide. We need you to find a way to de-superise all those girls. Now, I happen to know the whereabouts of a certain person who might be of assistance on both counts and-“

“Who is this person?” The disembodied voice demanded. “There are very, very few people with any level of brainwave knowledge. In fact, I only know of two: myself and my br-. Wait! You know where my brother is?”

I smiled. “Oh yes. He’s currently a house guest of mine. Let’s just say I’m keeping him out of trouble, if you know what I- OUCH!” A sudden, sharp sensation filled my head for a fraction of a second, startling me. “What was that?” I demanded.

“Sorry,” said Duane’s sister. “I’m still perfecting my mind-reading technique. You see, I needed my brother’s exact location and it’s much easier than asking.”

“You bitch!” I snapped, and thumped the side of the massive spaceship, hard. The enormous vessel shuddered under the tremendous blow. I waited to hear the voice’s cry of pain, but it never came.

“Blogger!” Ultragirl shouted, unexpectedly. I whirled around. “Look!” Ultra pointed. “One of the probes… headed this way.”

I followed the blonde bombshell’s finger. Sure enough, a small craft (only slightly bigger than the one Ultra and I had followed into the Earth’s atmosphere) was zipping through space, incredibly fast, towards us. “What the hell are you up to, Perkins?” I shouted, thumping the ship once more. There was no reply.

The probe drew to a dramatic stop some distance from Ultragirl and I. If it was supposed to be attacking us, someone had made a navigation error. The thing was on the other side of the enormous mothership from us, close the helplessly floating bundle of naked supergirls.

“Run out of power?” I taunted the voice. “Your brainwave batteries dead?”

It was not the now-familiar voice that replied. It was another, more melodic, more youthful voice. If I hadn’t been watching closely, I would not have believed it. But, there was no room for doubt. I saw her lips moving as she spoke. The voice belonged to one of the “enhanced” auditionees: the one who happened to be closest to the newly-arrived probe. The girl reached out a long, smooth, honey-coloured arm and curled her fingers around a fist-sized bit of metal that protruded from the surface of the miniature ship.

“My brainwaves are just fine,” the girl said, smiling. Her flawless teeth were almost dazzling. “And now I’ve got this new body, I won’t be needing that big ship anymore. Thanks for the information and… oh yes. I’m sorry. You’re not going to enjoy the next bit very much.”

“Eh?” wondered Ultragirl.

“What are you talking about, you crazy bi-“ I started.

Then the space ship and the stars disappeared. Everything went white.

I could hear Ultragirl screaming.

I could hear myself screaming.


To be continued…



Tuesday 11 April 2006 16:45 BST (GMT+1)

With all of my senses overloading my brain with extreme impulses (to the point that I could not even begin to think about anything but the overwhelming, hateful, intensity of it all) my mind must have temporarily shut down.

I can’t describe the feeling. There was just too much of it. I couldn’t see anything because every single receptor in my eyes seemed to be filled with brilliant white light. I couldn’t feel because every last nerve ending in my body was sending searing blasts of energy to my brain. Even my taste and smell were overpowered by the continuous, full-on assault of concentrated information. I do not remember taking a conscious decision to scream, but I can clearly recall hearing a desperate yell (which must have been me) barely audible amidst a universe of other, too-loud-to-comprehend sounds.

After a while (it seemed like days, but may well have only been seconds) the terrible attack on my nervous system suddenly ceased. I won’t deny the strong relief I experienced then. Quickly, my senses returned to normal. I became aware of my surroundings once more. From the movement of the stars, I realised I was spinning out of control and used my powers of flight to steady myself.

There was no sign of the huge mothership anywhere. I searched all around for debris and found none. It was as though the entire, massive craft had dissolved into its component atoms which had then dispersed into space. I saw the army of naked supergirls, now scattered over quite a large area. They looked to have come through whatever it was unscathed. Then again, they had been a lot further away than either Ultra or me.

Speaking of the blonde Wonder, I soon spotted her, just recovering from her own involuntary spin. She, in turn, caught sight of me and flew my way.

“What the hell happened?” Ultragirl was wondering as she joined me.

“I’m not sure.” I admitted. “Duane’s sister must’ve used some brainwave trick to turn that massive ship into pure energy.”

“It hurt like hell,” commented Ultra. I wasn’t about to admit my moment of less-than-perfect control by agreeing, but I didn’t disagree either. I was still scanning all around for any trace of the big ship when I noticed something small in the distance, moving at great speed towards Earth. Using my fantastic visual abilities, I “zoomed in” on the object in a way that no telescope-builder could dream of matching.

“Shit!” I cursed. “She’s riding the probe!” I had assumed that the “new” body Duane’s sister had stolen was unable to fly. I hadn’t figured that her brainwaves gave her control of the miniature space-ship. By holding on to the little craft and steering it, she had found a way around the problem of not having flight powers. Now she was only a couple of thousand miles from the upper limits of Earth’s atmosphere and getting closer by the microsecond.

“I know where she’s headed!” I cried. “We have to stop her before she does any serious damage!”

“You mean she might hurt innocents?” Ultra asked, suddenly extremely concerned.

“Worse!” I replied, already streaking away at something near my maximum speed (in other words, mind-blowingly fast). “She’s heading for my flat!”

More next time.



Wednesday 12 April 2006 19:25 BST (GMT+1)

Somehow, Duane’s sister had read her brother’s location (and my home address) from my mind.

Somehow, she had transformed the mighty mothership into a blast of energy that had stunned Ultragirl and, yes, slightly disturbed me too… For a few seconds, anyway. Long enough for her to use her brainwaves to steer a probe (fast) towards Earth while she held on, taking the ride home.

And before all that, she’d (also somehow) transferred her brainwave consciousness from the ship into the body of one of her auditionees. At least she now looked like someone as opposed to something. She’d taken the form of a girl in her early twenties with perfect, smooth, very dark tan skin. Her hair was long, deepest brown and loosely curled.

Like all the 496 young women zapped by the sister’s ray, she had a stunning figure (by ordinary Earth standards, not mine, naturally) with a tiny flat waist, curvaceous hips and magnificently full and rounded breasts. Her arms and legs were long and exquisitely shaped. Her face was a thing of classic beauty: large clear, bright brown eyes with prominent lashes, a cute nose, not too strong and ideally proportioned, and rich, inviting deep red lips that I’d already seen set in a sexy pout and, later, parted to reveal a sparkling, brilliant white smile.

At the moment when I first spotted her zooming off in the distance, of course, I couldn’t see her face at all. Only the back of her naked body. I looked at her superhumanly-firm, spherical buttocks as they travelled ever further from me. I’d estimate the gap between us at around fifteen million miles. I had some catching up to do if I wanted to reach her before she got to my flat…

The probe which she was “riding” wasn’t built on Earth, but (presumably) it was built somewhere. And no artificially created machine could ever be a match for my natural power and perfection. As I accelerated towards my top speed, I started to gain rapidly on my target. She was already close to Earth when I was still about half-way from the orbit of Mars, but the distance was closing rapidly.

If it hadn’t been for the enormous head-start she gave herself by subjecting me to that horrid energy blast, I would have caught her no problem. But there just wasn’t enough time for my vastly superior speed to tell.

The probe glowed bright red as she piloted it through the atmosphere at an angle steep enough to reduce any Earth-built craft to fragments. Her glorious body also glowed, but I already knew that her flawless skin was more than up to the challenge. I dived after her, even faster, so that my own flesh heated to higher temperatures still, but I didn’t even notice the warmth (partly because I was focussed on the chase, but mostly because I’m way, way more invulnerable than that.)

The probe cut through the clouds. For a brief moment I thought she might be about to crash it right through the roof of my building. I put on a further burst of speed, fearing the damage the craft might cause to my property, but despite even that, I just could not get to her in time.

As it turned out, she did not ride the little ship through the top of my block. She abandoned it about a hundred feet up by letting go of it. As she fell, she sent the probe rocketing in the opposite direction, back up towards where I was following.

I could have flown around it, but I wasn’t in the mood. I kept right on course, allowing the small craft to smack straight into the top of my skull. Of course, the tough alien alloy cracked open instantly on contact with my harder-than-anything head. The rest of my body tore right through the guts of the probe, ripping, bending and breaking anything in its path with utter ease until I smashed through the other side.

The ship hadn’t even slowed me down for a moment. Small pieces of extraterrestrial probe rained down on the city below, a testament to the unstoppable force that is me. I ignored them as I continued to get ever nearer to the girl.

I wanted to catch her before she hit my roof. Sadly, I was about half-a-second too late. I could do nothing but watch as she hit on the tiles, her pretty, bare feet first. Such was the force with which she impacted, it would not have made much difference if she had crashed the whole probe. Her slender, curvy body did plenty of damage all by its sexy self.

If it had been any other building, I would have stood back and enjoyed the show. It really was a most impressive sight, seeing the scale of destruction wrought by a single, naked girl. It made me realise how awesome I must look when I’m in action. Sadly, however, the damage was being done to my property and I could not stand by and let it happen.

Those nice, delicate-looking feet caused most of the roof to collapse inwards into the top floor of the building, completely filling the flat above mine with steel, brick and concrete debris. Long-time readers will know that I own that apartment. It is (or rather, given the current state of it) it was my playroom, complete with soft mats on the floor and all walls so that I can (sorry, could) throw toys (alright, “men”) without breaking them irreparably. I was furious!

But my anger at that point was nothing compared to a moment later when those same feet smashed right through the soft-matted floor and then the wooden boards, concrete slabs and steel support girders that had served (up until that instant) as the ceiling of my residence proper. Quickly, she descended into my flat. She hit the floor, tearing the carpet before absorbing the tremendous momentum of her fall with just a tiny bend of her knees.

Standing back to her full height, she glanced briefly left and right (no doubt trying to locate the bathroom) before striding confidently in the latter direction. She chose correctly, in terms of the shortest route to her brother. Unfortunately for my decor, there was a thick, plastered-over brick wall in the way.

The girl took a leaf from my book, not slowing her stride in the slightest as she walked right up to the wall. Her arrogantly pouting face and proud breasts hit first with a mighty Smack! And then that face and those breasts proceeded to plough right through the partition as if it wasn’t there. The rest of her body was equally effective in reducing the wall to dust. A cloud of particles billowed outwards and lumps of brick fell at her feet as she strolled straight through. By now, I was just a couple of steps behind her.

“Duaney?” she asked as she burst into the bathroom. “Is that you?”

The pathetic figure, chained to the lavatory, looked up groggily, his eyes filled with fear (as they always seem to be these days). “Who… who are you?” he asked.

“Forgotten me already?” she wondered before the realisation dawned. “Of course! You don’t recognise me in this new body. Nice, isn’t it? Very… feminine. I still would prefer the old one, but you killed that, didn’t you? I bet you thought you’d killed me too. Well, guess what: you didn’t!” She began walking towards her brother.

“Daphne?” Duane intoned, his face now conveying shock as well as terror.

More next time, people...



Thursday 13 April 2006 17:33 BST (GMT+1)

The sister’s little speech to her brother following her melodramatic arrival in my bathroom had given me plenty of time to catch up with her and reach out, getting my hand onto her smooth naked shoulder.

“Dua-“ she started to speak again. Her words were cut off as I pulled her violently backwards by her shoulder, lifting her feet from the ground and sending her flying back through the hole she’d already put in the wall, widening it slightly. She landed, hard, on her rear out in my living room. I heard the sound of floorboards cracking beneath her perfectly spherical, tougher-than-steel, buttocks. Immediately, she was climbing to her feet again, clearly unharmed. “You?” she said. “How did you get here so soon? The brain-blast should have killed you!”

"Well, it didn't," I answered. "You underestimated me. Fatal mistake. Any last requests before I kill you?”

Daphne didn’t seem afraid. She actually started to approach, squaring up to me.

“No-one’s going to kill anyone here. Innocent civilians could get hurt!” I turned around to see the source of the words. It was Ultragirl, of course, flying down through the destroyed ceiling. I’ll admit I was surprised (and more than a little impressed to see how quickly she’d arrived).

"You're obsessed with innocent civilians!" I commented, rolling my eyes.

“Somebody help me, PLEASE!” Duane moaned from the lavatory.

“Shut up!” Daphne, Ultra and I said in unison.

"But... I'm an innocent civilian..." said Duane, pathetically.

"Innocent!" Daphne threw her gorgeous head back, letting her long, wavy hair fly through the air, and laughed, flashing her perfect teeth. "You almost killed me with your meddling in my research! Now you're going to pay for that.." she took a couple of fluid, confident strides towards his "throne".

I moved at superspeed to intersperse myself between Daphne and her chained-up brother. "Hang on a second," I said, angrily, putting my hands defiantly on my hips, "who the hell do you think you are? You smash up my apartment and you think I'm just going to stand here and do nothing while you then mess with my property?"

"Stand aside!" Daphne ordered, trying to stare me down. "This is between me and him."

"First of all," I pointed out, still annoyed, "you're in my flat which makes what you do my business. And secondly, that creature in there-" (I indicated Duane with a nod of my head) "-is mine. He belongs to me. I own him. So forget about even going near him."

"Your property?!" Daphne asked, disbelievingly, "He's my brother. If I want to punish him for what he did to me, no-one is going to stop me."

"Wrong." I said. "He's mine. I'm punishing him for what he did to me. Your only concern right now is how you're going to pay for the damage you've done to my home!"

"Ultragirl! Please! Save me from them!" begged Duane.

Ultra rolled her eyes. She's so sexy when she does that. It distracted me just long enough for Daphne to make her move. She tried to zip around me to get to her brother. I saw her in the nick of time and moved myself to block her off. Her curvy right hip collided with my perfect left flank, making a Thwack! sound that shook the whole building. Daphne was thrown sideways by the collision, crashing into, and partly through the far wall of my living room. Plaster and brick tumbled from her unmarked body as she recovered her footing. I could see the side of the next building through the hole she'd inadvertently created with her shoulder. Meanwhile I was knocked a couple of paces in the other direction, my knee puncturing the corridor wall and emerging in the kitchen before I stood up straight again.

Daphne growled and charged at me, moving faster than the latest military jet fighter. I used my flying abilities in reverse to root myself to the spot, bracing myself for the inevitable impact. She reached me in a fraction of a second, her arms and hands delivering countless supersonic blows to my face, shoulders and upper torso. Her punches were hard (I could really feel them) but, of course, I didn't move an inch. Nonetheless, she gritted her dazzling teeth and continued the frenzied assault.

"Are you just going to stand there watching?" I demanded of Ultragirl as Daphne rained countless hits down on me every second.

"Um... yes?" answered the blonde bombshell. Realising I wasn't going to be getting any help there, I managed to catch hold of Daphne's wrists. It was a struggle. She was fantastically strong. Fortunately, I'm super-fantastically strong. Eventually I was able to grasp both her arms over her head in my right hand. She responded by launching a series of kicks at my midriff. I've been kicked harder, but only once, by Ultra. Daphne's pretty bare feet with their cute little toes and delicate ankles delivered more power than an atomic bomb each time they connected with me. If I hadn't been prepared, she would definitely have kicked me into the next street. Not only that, but she didn't appear to be tiring at all.

Fortunately, I had a spare hand. I finally got a grip on the bottom of her leg, holding it tight by my side. She tried one last kick with her free leg which left her off-balance. I capitalised on her moment of vulnerability by using my holds on her wrists and leg to hoist her bodily over my head, like a weightlifter. I walked over to the living room windows, still holding Daphne above me, despite her frantic wriggling to get free.

"Blogger, what are you doing?" Ultragirl demanded. I drew my arms back, carrying Duane's sister with them and making my intention obvious. "No! Blogger! Don't! People will get hurt!"

"Hopefully." I said. "Starting with this bitch." Snapping my arms forward, I released Daphne, launching her through the closed windows and sending her soaring across the street, over the buildings on the other side and several more roads behind. I had to use my X-ray vision to see her crashing down, about half a mile away, in the middle of a park. She made an impressive, twenty-foot wide, ten-foot deep crater in the grass, sending dozens of dog-walkers and a party of picnickers running, screaming, in every direction.

"Are you crazy? You could have killed dozens!" Ultra accused me. I shot her an angry look. She returned it.

"What's happening?" called a frightened male voice from the bathroom.

"Shut up, Duane!" both Ultragirl and I answered, in chorus.

Through the intervening brick and concrete, I watched as a hand and then another appeared at the edge of the new crater in the park. A second later, Daphne's now familiar hair appeared, followed by the rest of her lovely body as she hauled herself up onto the grass. She appeared completely unharmed by her flight and landing. "Shit!" I said as she broke into a run, instantly smashing the sound-barrier. "She's coming back."

Ultra and I watched as Daphne leapt gracefully over the ten-foot high railings around the park and then smashed, in an instant, right through the glass window of the front of a small shop. A split second later, she reappeared in a shower of exploding brick, bursting through the back of the store. She crashed right through the lobby of a block of flats, charging through the front and back walls of the stone building without slowing. Only the showers of debris served as proof that there had been solid obstacles in her way.

"This has got to stop. Now!" declared Ultragirl, crossing her arms under her wonderful chest and making it even more prominent. "People are getting hurt!" I took the opportunity to admire her curves. She noticed and sighed, angrily. That just made her look even sexier.

There was a tremendous feminine roar from down below. Daphne had already reached the pavement in front of my building. With a single bound, she launched herself off the sidewalk, the concrete slabs crumbling to dust beneath her toes as she pushed herself into the air. The cry was still on her lovely lips as she soared upwards, her leap measured with impressive accuracy to carry her back through the smashed window in front of me.

She landed just a few feet from me and immediately swung her fist at my head. I ducked and she missed. I doubt she could have hurt me, but I'd estimate that her punch would have brought down the whole building if it had connected right. Instead, her little fist found nothing but air. From my crouching position, I was perfectly placed to reach out and get my arms around her tiny waist. I hauled her feet off the ground as her upper body fell forwards. She began pummelling my back while I had to use both of my hands just to hold on to her.

"Let me get to my brother!" Daphne hissed as I clung on to her middle.

"Don't let her get to me!" Duane yelled, desperately, from the toilet.

"Shut up, Duane!" shouted all three of us superwomen together.

"No, you all shut up!" the jerk answered back, taking us all by surprise. "I'm sick of this! I am not some toy punch-bag that you can fight over! You all leave me alone or I'll.... I'll..."

"Right." I said. "That's it. I've had it with the Perkins family. You're both dead." I adjusted my grip on Daphne's waist until both of my hands locked behind her back and began to squeeze. I was trying to crush the life out of her. The only problem was that she was amazingly invulnerable. I increased the strength of my squeeze until I was compressing her middle with enough force to vaporise solid steel (That's no exaggeration, by the way, readers. I know exactly how much force I'm talking about, as I've vaporised solid steel on countless occasions.) But although she squirmed and moaned in clear discomfort, her superhuman skin, bones and organs refused to yield to me.

"Blogger, don't!" Ultragirl said, nervously. "There has to be another way..."

I didn't bother telling Ultra that I disagreed with her. I knew I had more strength to call upon in my seemingly unlimited internal reservoir and I was just on the point of summoning it for one final effort when Daphne resorted to a desperate measure of her own. Suddenly, my vision failed and all I could see was pure white light. A throbbing sensation shook my head. My arms, still crushing her body, became inexplicably numb. I was aware of movement, but it wasn’t until several seconds later, when I regained control of my senses, that I realised I had fallen to the floor. Once again, I had been the victim of a brainwave attack!

Meanwhile, during my brief moment of incapacity, Daphne had broken free of my arms. I looked up, just in time to see her in the bathroom, standing over Duane, her fist raised above his head, ready to deliver a blow that would surely reduce her brother's skull and its contents to a stain on the walls.

"Daphne! No!" screamed Ultragirl from the floor beside me. Daphne must have brainwave-blasted her off her feet too.

"Stop!" I yelled. "He's mine!."

"Sis! Wait!" Duane pleaded, tearfully.

"Don't you "Sis" me!" Daphne almost spat in disgust. And with those words, she brought her small, but immensely powerful fist down.

I think that's enough excitement for you "normals" for one day. I'll reveal what happened in my next post.



Friday 14 April 2006 21:09 BST (GMT+1)

Let's start today's post with a very quick recap: Daphne (Duane's sister) could never beat me in a fair fight, so she had cheated, using a brainwave blast to momentarily distract me. This had bought her the necessary seconds to reach her brother before me. I left things last time with her about to deliver the final superhuman blow to her sibling's fragile skull...

I'd always thought that it would be me who finally put Duane out of his misery. The only reason I hadn't already done the deed (despite coming very, very close so many times) was that I wanted (quite understandably, I feel) to prolong his suffering as long as possible. I had not wasted any thought on how I might have finished him off. After all, there are millions of ways a perfect superhuman woman like me can kill a pathetic "normal" male like him.

(Usually, when I'm "taking care" of a man, I just make a spur-of-the-moment decision as to which of the myriad methods to use. You know; whatever I think would be most fun for me.)

I was sure of one thing though. Whichever way I would have chosen, it would not have been by means of a fist slammed down on his head. Not because it's a messy technique (it is) or because it's in any way difficult (don't make me laugh! Of course it's not difficult to smash a male's head) but because it would be far, far too quick. It's much more enjoyable to do it slowly, perhaps teasing him with my glorious body at the same time so that I can thrill in my sexual power even as I thrill in my physical power.

But Daphne had other ideas. Her anger over what Duane had done to her seemed to be all she cared about. She didn't want to make him suffer much. Bizarrely (and I will never understand this) she didn't even seem interested in enjoying herself while she did it. She just wanted him dead.

I decided that if I couldn't have the pleasure of snuffing him out myself, then I'd at least watch as someone else did it. So my eyes (my superhuman eyes that can see things microscopes miss at speeds you just wouldn't be able to comprehend) were fixed on Daphne's fist and Duane's head the whole time. There is no possibility that I could have failed to notice anything.

Duane himself (or any other "normal" person) would never have been able to see Daphne's fist moving downwards. It travelled far, far too fast for that. With my experience of being hit by that feminine hand, I'd say she launched a blow hard enough not just to obliterate most of Duane's body, but probably (if she had landed it in the right spot) to cause a minor earthquake. Only my amazing abilities (I can start a major earthquake with my fist) allowed me to follow her supersonic movement every micrometer of the way down.

I prepared myself for the gory splat that I knew was imminent, but kept my eyes open. So I saw everything that happened. Or rather, everything that didn't happen.

I saw Daphne's fist coming down towards her brother's head. And I saw it stop, amazingly suddenly, just a couple of millimetres short of its target. Such was the immediate deceleration that I knew at once there was no way Daphne could have exercised such perfect control. One nano-instant her hand was flying, the next nano-instant it was dead still. It did not seem possible.

I was confused. Perhaps the amazing stop was some brainwave trick. I checked for clues on Daphne's face, but there were none. Her expression of anger was unchanged. Her fist remained clenched, so close to her brother, completely unmoving. In fact, no part of her moved.

Seconds passed. Nothing happened. Nothing at all. Daphne remained dead still.

Then, at last, something. Not Daphne, though. It was Duane. He started to cry.

"There, there, my little man. Don't cry. It's alright. I won't let that nasty girl hurt you." said a voice. I looked all around using superspeed and X-ray vision. I saw Daphne, Duane and Ultragirl. But the voice didn't belong to any of them. There was something very familiar about it though.

Ultragirl knew the voice too. "Zara?" she asked of the ether.

"The very same!" replied the voice, with smug satisfaction.

"Great." I said, sarcastically. "That's all I need."

"Delighted to see you, too, Blogger." replied the disembodied magician.

"What have you done to Daphne?" asked Ultra.

"Let me guess," I said. "Shell of Paralysis?"

"Oh, you are a clever one!" Zara patronised as she slowly faded into view, standing between me and Daphne. In a fraction of a split-micro-second, I stood up to face her. She was wearing the same long black gown as at our last encounter. The front of it still ridiculously low-cut. I couldn't help but notice that there seemed to be even more round flesh visible than last time, even more voluptuous cleavage on display.

"You've put on some weight, Zara," I observed. "Been hitting the chocolate cake?"

"I have not put on wei-" she started, clearly upset by my remark, before stopping herself mid-word. "Oh, those!" she said, glancing down proudly at her bust before back up at me. "Just a little alteration I made. They help me get the boys' attention. And give me a little extra space to keep them snug when I'm busy. Lovely, aren't they?"

"How cheap!" I insulted her.

"Oh, really! There is no need for that kind of talk." Zara responded. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy?"

I laughed. "Jealous?" I spluttered. "Me? I'm perfect! Why should I be jealous of your implants?"

"Implants? Please! These are one hundred percent natural." said Zara. I rolled my eyes. "Well, one hundred percent supernatural, anyway."

"Blogger's right." Ultragirl joined in. "They're fake. But, if that's what you want, Zara, it’s your body…”

The magician seemed genuinely upset by the reaction to her abracadabra-augmentation. “Envy does not become you, my dear,” she chastised Ultra. “And, besides, it’s not your opinion that concerns me. Let’s see what little what’s-his-name thinks.” She turned to Duane, who was still sniffling, sitting directly beneath his sister’s frozen fist of doom. “I’m sorry, my little friend. Silly Zara has forgotten your name. Be a darling and remind me, will you please?”

“D… Dua..(sniff)..Duane.” he sobbed, even more pathetic (I’d never have thought it possible) than usual.

“Yes, of course. Duane. You must forgive me. I get through so many of you little boy-toys that it’s hard to keep track of you all.” Zara confessed. “But I’ll bet you remember me, don’t you, Dwight?”

“Duane,” he corrected her.

“Yes, yes,“ she brushed off the correction, “but you do remember me, don’t you?” She didn’t wait for his reply. “Of course you do! How could you forget all the wonderful fun you had with Zara? Remember how I made you little and put you all safe and snug between my lovely breasts? How they surrounded you, so beautifully soft and warm and squeezed you tight? I can remember you wriggling around in there, fighting so very hard to try and push them apart, but you couldn’t, could you, David? They were just too big… too heavy for you.”

Zara was on a roll. Duane stared up at her, his eyes wide as she went on (and on). “You tried and tried, but there was nothing you could do as my nice, big breasts engulfed you, smothering every little bit of your little body. I’m told that they have a wonderful fragrance. Did you notice that, while you were in there? The delicious scent of Zara’s chest overwhelming your senses as my lovely flesh pressed all over you? You nearly suffocated, didn’t you? Or was that another boy? Were you the one whose entire body got crushed flat as a pancake by my gorgeous breasts? No, wait. That was someone else… So many little boys… How’s a girl supposed to recall them all? But you remember, don’t you, Danny? I’ll bet you’ll never, ever forget…”

“And now,” she continued, showing no sign of shutting up, “look!” She bent at the waist, lowering her upper body towards the helplessly chained-up Duane and then thrusting her mountainous, pendant breasts with their endless, canyon-like cleavage into his startled face. “Look, Donald! They’re even bigger now! Even nicer! Imagine that, even more of Zara’s lovely breasts to engulf you! What do you think, my little one? You like them don’t you? You like them even more than before!” she said, pushing her mounds closer still to his saucer-wide eyes. He wouldn’t have been able to see anything but Zara’s breasts. “You don’t think they look fake, do you?”

By now, Duane was panting. I’d heard his heartbeat quickening for some moments already. I could even smell his growing arousal. “Well, Dean? Do they look fake to you? Do they? Do they?” Zara leaned in towards him as she repeated her final question until his nose actually entered her cleavage and a small portion of each of her breasts touched his face.

Duane started to shake. “Mggghhnnnn” he groaned. I didn’t need superpowers to work out what was going on. Zara moved back a step and glanced down. My X-ray vision doesn’t work on Zara, so I couldn’t see what she was looking at, but I knew that Duane had made a mess in his already-filthy clothes. Turning over her shoulder to address Ultra and I, she said “You see. Dickie here doesn’t think they look fake. He quite likes them, actually.” Then looking back at him, she cooed, as if addressing a pet dog "Yes, you do, don't you. You love Zara's lovely big breasts don't you, little boy?"

Ultragirl and I exchanged glances. "Um, Zara..." Ultra said, "if you've finished with him... I was, erm, wondering, how did you know he was in danger?"

"Oh, I've been watching you two for hours." Zara admitted with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Most entertaining you've been, too. But I couldn't let little what's-his-name here get squished. Not after I'd gone to all the trouble of fixing him up once before. And, lest we forget, a part of him is, in a way, mine."

She was referring, of course, to the enormous sexual organ she had conjured up to replace his original small one. "You're welcome to it." I told her.

"This 'Shell' thing on Daphne," Ultra asked, self-consciously changing the subject away from Duane's penis, "how long will it last?"

"The Shell of Paralysis is unbreakable." Zara pronounced, haughtily. I barely suppressed a laugh.

Even Ultragirl was moved to point out, with a reverential nod in my direction, "Blogger broke out of it."

"Yes, well," Zara was forced to concede, "that was extraordinary. That obscene amount of power combined with such ridiculous sexual potency... It should be impossible... She is a one-off, a freak..." I shot her my angriest look. "Um, in the nicest possible sense of the word, of course." she hurriedly back-tracked.

"So," I asked, making no effort to conceal the pride in my voice, "how long does your puny shell hold up on people not as awesomely perfect as me?"

"As long as I want." stated Zara defiantly, crossing her arms beneath her big breasts, accentuating the startling cleavage between them even more.

"Like... forever?" Ultragirl inquired.

"That'd be great!" Duane piped up, as best he could (which was not very well at all).

"Shut up!" said Zara, Ultragirl and I.

"Well?" Ultra re-prompted.

"It is unbreakable for as long as I desire." claimed Zara. "This girl can't pull of the same trick as Blogger here managed. She lacks the, er, physique for starters. There's nothing she could do against my ma- aaaagggghhhh!" The magician's hands rose to clutch the sides of her head. She sank to her knees, still screaming.

To be continued...



Monday 17 April 2006 19:35 BST (GMT+1)

Zara was still down on her knees, clutching her head between her palms, her eyes tight shut, the agonised scream still on her lips.

Ultragirl and I looked at each other. “Brainwave blast,” we both diagnosed, simultaneously.

“I didn’t think she could do those from inside that ‘Shell’,” Ultra commented.

“Well, you learn something every day,” I said, dryly.

The magician’s yell finally ceased. “What… the…. hell… was…. that?” she panted, slowly climbing back to her feet.

“Daphne’s little party trick,” I explained.

“I did not enjoy that one little bit,” Zara confessed. “That actually hurt!”

“You should have worn your ‘Balaclava of Anti-brainwaves’,” I quipped.

Zara shot me a withering look which I returned with a wink. She rolled her eyes. “Well at least she hasn’t damaged the Shell of Paralysis,” she pointed out. Daphne was, indeed, still frozen in place. “How long before she can do that mind-zap again?”

“No idea.” I shrugged.

“Me neither,” said Ultragirl.

“Five minutes. She needs at least that to recharge her brainwave accumu-“ said Duane, from his enforced seat on my lavatory.

“-Shut up.” I told him.

“Only speak when you’re spoken to.” Zara chided him.

“Sorry,” said Duane, sounding genuinely eager to make amends for his wrong-doing.

“Shut up!” I repeated.

“Sorry,” he reiterated, once again seeming truthfully remorseful.

I sighed. (A theatrical sigh, made with a calculated exhalation so that the force of my warm breath briefly pinned Duane hard to the pipe and the wall behind him, making him wince with pain.) He was silent after that. “That’s better.” I observed.

“So,” I said, turning to face the people in the room that actually mattered (Ultragirl and Zara), “what are we going to do with her?” I nodded at Daphne, still perfectly unmoving, still just about to strike Duane.

“We have to find a way to hand her over to the proper authorities.” Ultragirl announced. “I take it,” she went on, addressing Zara in particular, “that you can’t shrink her?”

“No.” said Zara, sadly. “That just doesn’t seem to work on you ‘super’ types, unfortunately.”

“Oooh! Oooh!” Those were the anxious sounds that Duane was making. He was straining at his chains, trying desperately to catch our attention like a child in school who knows the answer to the problem on the board and is begging his teacher to let him display his knowledge. Like the schoolchild, Duane had been told not to speak out of turn. Unlike the schoolchild, Duane didn’t even have recourse to raising his hand…

“What is it, male?” I asked, wearily, crossing my arms under my mighty chest.

“I know a way to de-power her!” claimed Duane.

I laughed. “You must think we’re stupid! As if I will ever trust you again!”

“You wouldn’t have to trust him,” interjected Zara. I gave her a quizzical look.

Zara smiled. “It’s called the ‘Kiss of Obedience’,” she started. “It never fails.”

And I’ll describe Zara’s demonstration of the ‘Kiss of Obedience’ next time…



Tuesday 18 April 2006 18:00 BST (GMT+1)

The “Kiss of Obedience”:

“Watch,” said Zara. She turned away from me and back towards Duane. Resting her hands on her knees, she bent over at the waist, lowering her head towards his. I leant to the side to catch a glimpse of his bemused face. I saw his eyes tracking downwards, keeping their focus locked on the magician’s spectacular cleavage as it descended in front of him.

Soon, Zara had bent so low, he was having to lower his head to keep staring at her newly-enhanced charms. That did not suit her plans, so she cupped his chin with her right hand and, with a breathy “I know my breasts are lovely, but I want you to concentrate on my lips for a little while now,” she gently raised Duane’s head so that he was looking at her face. “That’s better,” she exhaled, sultrily.

Zara pushed out her thick, purple lips, parting them very slightly at she did so, making her mouth into a thick ‘O’ shape. Duane needed no second invitation, puckering his own lips immediately. His eyes closed (probably because he was so nervous finding himself in such an intimate situation. Zara isn’t a patch on me, but compared with most ‘normal’ women, she must appear irresistible to the likes of Duane.) I could see that his whole body was trembling slightly.

From her position, with her extended lips a fraction of an inch from Duane’s mouth, Zara started to whisper. My superhuman hearing allowed me to hear every word as clearly as if she were shouting. “With this kiss,” Zara breathed, her voice saturated with erotic charge, “you will give me your heart. When our lips meet, you will surrender your will to me along with your passion.”

It was hard to tell if the words were part of a spell, or merely an unusual chat-up line. The way that Zara was reciting them so seductively, I could only assume it was the latter.

“Surrender to me,” she went on, her mouth so close to his. “Surrender to me now.” And with that, she pressed her lips gently against his. Duane’s eyes remained closed, but the rest of his body seemed to respond to Zara’s command, visibly relaxing as their mouths interlocked.

I couldn’t see through the magician’s body, but I could see through Duane’s. Enough to see Zara’s tongue firmly stationed inside his mouth. Was that part of the magic, or merely Zara’s idea of a good time? I never found out.

All I know is that several seconds later, she slowly pulled her head back, sensuously allowing their lips to separate. With her face still almost touching his, she whispered “You have surrendered to me. You are mine, now.” Duane said nothing as she straightened up to her full height once more, leaving him still sitting, chained to the lavatory.

“It’s done.” Zara announced to Ultragirl and I in a much more mundane tone of voice. “But I can’t prove it while he’s all tied up like this. She studied the thick steel chain I had wrapped around Duane and the pipes behind him. I assumed she was about to ask me to remove them. I was all set to give a little show by breaking a few of the links just by tugging them with my little finger. (Not a test of my strength by any stretch of the imagination, but a nice demonstration of it, nonetheless.)

Unfortunately for me, Zara had other ideas. She pointed at the chains, saying “That which is a chain should stay as such, but that which won’t break should now yield to the touch.” A not-especially-bright flash of light followed. A moment later, when the light faded, I saw that the metal loops surrounding Duane had (magically!) become paper. Suddenly, there was nothing securing the jerk but party decorations!

“Wow!” said Ultragirl. I hid my own admiration for the trick. It wouldn’t do to let Zara think I was impressed.

“Very basic magic, my dear,” said Zara with false modesty. She reached out for one of the paper loops and tore it using a couple of fingers. (I could have torn it while it was still steel and with less fingers, but anyway…) The paper-chain fell loose to the floor around Duane’s feet. Zara addressed him in a loud, clear voice.

“Stand up!” she ordered. Immediately, Duane planted his feet and began to straighten his legs. It had been a few days since I’d last let him stand, so he was a little unsteady to begin with, but he soon found his balance.

“Jump three times!” Zara instructed. He only got about six inches off the ground each time, but I suppose that had more to do with Duane’s pathetic nature than Zara’s magic. I’ll concede that (if you accept six inches as a “jump”) he did, indeed, jump three times.

“Turn around and touch your toes!” commanded Zara. Duane instantly obeyed. It was quite a struggle for him to reach the ends of his feet with his outstretched fingers and he groaned as he stretched, but he just about made it in the end.

“What a fun toy.” I said, my words heavy with sarcasm. “Can it do anything interesting? Let me try: Duane! Punch yourself in the face! Hard!” Nothing happened. “Aww,” I said, mockingly, “your spell is crap, Zara.”

“The ‘Kiss of Obedience’ only grants obedience to the one who plants the kiss, Blogger.” Zara explained. “Watch: Duane, do as Blogger just asked.”

Whack! Duane caught himself on the cheek with a blow from his right fist. “Ow!” he cried., staggering backwards. He’d given himself a little cut just below the eye.

I threw my head back and laughed uproariously. “How long do the effects last?” I inquired.

“Until I cast the reverse spell,” said Zara.

“Does that also involve shoving your tongue down his throat?” I teased.

“No. The ‘Slap of Free Will’ is fairly self-explanatory…” Zara replied.

“So, if we now tell him to make the de-super-iser, he won’t be able to trick us, even if he wants to?” Ultragirl sought confirmation.

“He can only do what I tell him to,” boasted Zara. “Exactly what I tell him to.”

“Tell him to make a device to cancel Daphne’s super-ising ray,” I instructed. “Ultra here is just dying to hand his sister over to the police. I think my blonde friend has a bit of a thing for weak males in uniform.”

“I do not!” Ultra protested.

“Ladies!” said Zara, keen to keep Ultra and I from starting a fight. “I presume,” she continued, now talking to me in particular, “that you also wish to use this device to cancel the powers of the girls still in space?”

“Well, duh!” I said, rolling my eyes.

“But, if you make them all normal again, they’ll die instantly in the vacuum!” Ultragirl exclaimed.

“Yeah, and?” I asked.

“..And you cannot do that! It’s murder!” Ultra spelt it out.

“Fine.” I said, feigning disappointment. In truth, I knew that she was never going to accept the plan, fun though it would have been. I already had a more palatable ‘Plan B’ to offer. “You really are too soft sometimes, Ultra.” I pouted. “But, OK. Have it your way. We’ll bring them down to Earth first and then zap them.”

“Much better.” Ultra declared.

“Whatever.” I said.

“All set then?” asked Zara. Ultra and I nodded. “Duane,” she ordered, “make the device to cancel Daphne’s super-ising ray.”

To be continued…



Thursday 20 April 2006 16:27 BST (GMT+1)

So, Zara’s “Kiss of Obedience” appeared to be working on Duane. And, her “Shell of Paralysis” was keeping his superhuman sister Daphne frozen, too.

Duane’s orders were to build a device to “de-super-ise” the (very, very pleasant-to-look-at) body which Daphne’s brainwaves had occupied and, hopefully, the 495 other supergirls still floating helplessly around in space. If Zara’s promise was accurate, Duane was completely under her control and unable to do anything other than carry out the magician’s commands. This time, he couldn’t trick us.

I was more than a little surprised, therefore, to see the feeble jerk walking towards the door just moments after Zara had instructed him to begin building the device. With superspeed, I moved to intercept him, just in front of the doorway, my hands on my hips, my unrivalled chest thrust out.

Seeing me directly in his way, he calmly stepped to the left. I mirrored his movement so that I remained between him and the door. He responded by side-stepping to the right. I countered. He took a quick stride forward and left, trying to find a way past me. When I moved to block him off, our upper bodies collided. My perfect, superhumanly firm breasts forced all the air from his lungs on impact with his pathetic chest. Winded, he staggered backwards.

“Where are you trying to go, Duane?” I asked of him, my hands remaining planted on my hips. “You know you can never get past me.”

“I must make the device to cancel Daphne’s super-ising ray,” he said, sounding far less fearful than usual addressing me. “It is Zara’s will.”

“Then why are you trying to leave, idiot?” I demanded.

“I need some components for the device I must build,” said Duane. “I must locate them. It is Zara’s will.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” I informed him.

“I can get the components,” Ultragirl volunteered. “Write me a list of what you need.”

Duane turned to look at Zara. Even though there was little difference between them in height, the geek’s eyes revealed the same awe as someone staring up at a building towering overhead. He stared, enrapt, waiting, unable to even think before receiving her signal. Zara paused, presumably just to enjoy the moment. Then she made her pronouncement. “Do as you’re told. Make the list for Ultragirl.”

Immediately Duane complied. When he was done, he handed the resulting sheet of paper to Ultra. She glanced at it and memorised the list in a fraction of a second. “I’ll be right back,” she said. Because of the damage Daphne had wrought to the roof of the building and the ceiling of my flat, Ultra didn’t need to use the door. She took off, straight into the sky.

Recalling a similar situation not long before when I had gone out in search of parts for another of Duane’s devices, I expected to see Ultra back within five minutes. That’s how long it had taken me to smash into a couple of warehouses and an electronics store and help myself to whatever was required. It doesn’t take long to do the shopping when you’re all-powerful…

Anyway, Ultragirl finally descended back through the hole in the ceiling, carrying a large plastic crate, no less than three whole hours later.

“Where the hell have you been?” I asked.

“Well, I had to fetch some cash first to pay for everything,” Ultra started to explain. “Then there was a long queue at the parts depot and, on the way back, I spotted a poor guy hanging off a roof after his ladder had broken…”

“You… paid for the stuff?” I asked, disbelieving.

“You… waited in a queue?” Zara questioned, equally incredulous.

“You... helped out a man?” I continued to seek confirmation of the details that baffled me.

“Why?” chorused both Zara and I.

“Because those were the right things to do!” Ultra answered, apparently surprised that anyone would even ask.

“But… you could have just taken what you wanted!” I said. “That’s what I always do.”

“And you could have told all the ordinary people queuing to stand aside!” said Zara. “That’s what I always do.”

“Or brushed them aside.” I pointed out. “Or blown them out of the building. Or-“

“-Unlike you,” Ultra interrupted, “I don’t believe in harming the innocent.”

“Well, you should try it sometime,” I recommended. “It’s fun!”

“No, it’s not,” said Ultragirl. “It’s cruel and just plain wrong.” Holding the plastic crate casually by one edge with her hanging right hand, she placed her left on her shapely hip and pouted to show that she was upset. How can anyone so sexy be so… misguided? Doesn’t she realise that being “super” means doing whatever you want, when you want, how you want, TO whoever you want?

Evidently, she doesn’t.

Anyway, she held the crate out with her right hand to Duane. “It’s all there,” she told him. He reached out to grip the sides of the big plastic box. Ultra let go. Instantly, Duane collapsed under the weight of the thing, falling onto his back with the crate on top of him, pinning him to the floor. He struggled for a few seconds to get out from underneath and then to dislodge the box, but without any success.

Ultra bent down and, extending her index finger, effortlessly flicked the “heavy” crate off of his body. Gingerly, panting for breath, he began to stand up. Then he began the laborious process of removing the items from the box one by one. Seeing his exertions, Zara rolled her eyes and said, breezily, “The little man clearly is not able. Things in the box, take yourselves to the table!”

Her words were accompanied by a flash of light. Suddenly, the contents of the crate were neatly laid out on my kitchen table.

“Cool!” commented Ultragirl. I said nothing. I wasn’t eager to encourage Zara to show off any further.

“Thank you.” said Zara to Ultra, with a smile. I scowled to myself.

Meanwhile Duane got on with creating the device…

More next time!



Monday 24 April 2006 16:52 BST (GMT+1)

OK, ultra-quick recap.

Duane, apparently bound by Zara’s “Kiss of Obedience”, was building the “de-super-iser” device primarily for use against his sister, Daphne (currently physically bound by Zara’s “Shell of Paralysis”). Ultragirl and I were waiting for Duane to finish. If the device worked on Daphne, we intended to use it on the remaining 495 supergirls still floating around in space.

See, I told you it was an ultra-quick recap. It took me less than a second to type it. Unfortunately, whenever I do that, I end up having to replace the keyboard. These things melt so easily. Anyway…


“It is done!” Duane announced, holding up a small, black plastic box about the size of a thick deck of cards. What appeared to be a mobile telephone antenna protruded from one end. A large, round, green button was clearly visible in the centre of one face.

“Give it to me.” I demanded, striding towards him with my hand held out to receive.

“No!” said Duane, catching me completely by surprise. “It is only for Zara. It is her will that I built this device.”

“Duane!” I replied, “You of all people know what happens to pathetic men who disobey me. Hand it over!”

“I… I… can’t!” Suddenly, he sounded terrified. I think he realised that I was about to inflict horrendous pain on him and yet, it seemed that he simply could not pass the device to anyone except the magician.

I took a step towards Duane, reaching out, ready to grip his upper arm and crush it until the flesh and bones became an unrecognisable paste. Duane started to cry. “Please! Don’t….” But he did not even try to pass me the black box.

I smiled. The grin was an unconscious act on my part, merely a by-product of the anticipation of the pain and harm I was about to cause. I do so enjoy hurting men. But my pleasure was denied, once again, by Zara. Doesn’t she get bored of coming to the fool’s rescue? (Judging by the “alterations” she made to his puny body, she is obviously just a girl with very peculiar taste.)

“Duane, I want you to give the device to Blogger.” Zara announced. Her words were greeted by an immense look of relief that swept across Duane’s features. With a sigh, he instantly held the small black box out for me. I made sure I “accidentally” broke a couple of fingers as I snatched it from him.

“Aaaggghhh!” he yelled as I chuckled, examining the gadget in my hand.

“So,” Zara asked me. “are you going to try it out?”

I turned until I faced Daphne, still unmoving by the lavatory, her fist still poised to smash her brother’s head (had he still been chained to the toilet). Pointing the antenna-like stick at the beautiful naked body that Daphne had “stolen”, my thumb rose from the device to hover over the self-explanatory, large green button. And paused.

A look of concern must have flashed over my (gorgeous) face. “What’s wrong?” asked Ultragirl.

“Do you remember that Superman film where he’s facing the bad guys from his own planet?” I asked her.

“Yeah, that was fun! Imagine a man that strong!” Ultra laughed.

“Even if there was such a male, I’d still be stronger!” I pointed out, “But that’s not what I’m talking about. Do you remember the end of that film? How the jerk in the red costume tricks the others?”

“Yeah,” Ultra enthused. “They think they’re making him normal, but actually he stays super and they’re the ones that end up…. Oh! You don’t think that…. But…. Duane… couldn’t. The kiss of obedience…”

“Duane couldn’t.” I agreed. “But, Daphne?”

“You think she might have used brainwaves to make Duane think he was following Zara’s orders, when he was actually following his sister’s?” Ultragirl asked.

“It’s possible, isn’t it?” I said.

“But, Daphne told us she couldn’t make a de-super-ising ray,” explained Ultra.

“She might have ‘borrowed’ Duane’s knowledge.” I hypothesised.

Ultragirl’s studious face revealed that she was considering the implications of my words. “So… what do we do?” she wondered.

“Well,” Zara piped up, clearly enjoying the concern the two ‘supers’ were showing, “if you two are so worried, why don’t you retreat to a safe distance and let me fire the device. After all-“ she gave Duane a patronising glance -“it was built especially for me, and with such love…”

“What’s a safe distance from that thing?” Ultra asked no-one in particular.

“Can we trust her?” I asked Ultra.

“Oh, please!” Zara said. “Of course you can trust me! I give you my word as a woman.” I said nothing. Zara went on, “Although, naturally, I would ask for something from you in return…”

I sighed. “What do you want?”

“Nothing much. Nothing important, or valuable. An insignificant little trinket, really..” Zara started.

“What do you want, Zara?” I repeated the question.

“Him,” she replied, with a nod towards Duane. “I want him for my, ah, collection.”

“Let me think about it.” I told her.

Next time, I’ll let you know my response.



Tuesday 25 April 2006 14:43 BST (GMT+1)

It doesn’t take me long to make decisions. In fact, it doesn’t take me long to do anything. That’s because my brain can process information about a million times faster than yours. (There’s no particular reason for me telling you that other than to remind you how fantastic it is to be me.)

I was faced with three options. Firstly, I could have activated Duane’s “de-super-ising” device by myself. Now, I don’t think that anything can really harm me (and all the evidence I’ve gathered to date suggests that I’m right) but…. Well, I don’t have a lot of experience facing brainwave technology, and I’d already had a surprise or two out of Daphne and her brother. How could I be sure she hadn’t used some brainwave trick to get Duane to build something into the gadget that might be disadvantageous to me? It’s not as if the Perkins family are near the top of my “people I trust” list.

It seemed sensible for me to put some distance between myself and the device when it was fired. But for that, I’d need someone else to do the firing. Zara seemed the ideal candidate given that her unique abilities are magic-based, and thus wouldn’t be affected by anything intended to interfere with super-powers. I’d had an offer from the magician to do the job, but she wanted something in exchange. So, option 2 was to fight Zara (and, naturally, win) so that I could force her to zap Daphne on my behalf without having to do anything in return.

The only problem with that plan was that Zara is a tricky opponent, and it might have taken anything up to a week (or maybe even longer) to finally defeat her. Of course, a week is nothing to someone like me and I could happily fight anyone or anything for a year without even beginning to tire, but I was impatient to see the whole Daphne-plus-495-supergirls-in-space-situation resolved. Which is what pointed me towards Option 3: do the deal with Zara.

She wanted Duane. Why anybody would is beyond me. I suppose it might make sense from her skewed and kinky viewpoint, but I was at a loss to understand it. All I know is why I wanted him. I wanted to make him suffer. Continuously. Every day of his life.

You see, after what he did to me, trying to take over my mind and control me like some novelty toy (me, the single most powerful, most beautiful, most sexy, most glorious thing in the universe!!), death was far too soft a punishment. He actually touched my perfect, magnificent body without my permission! For that crime I decided he would live, in pain, as my possession, so that every single second of every single day he would know that the power he craved is mine. He wanted to control me and he failed. Temporary, artificial control is nothing. I own him. He is mine. To do with as I please. Not forever, sadly, because he won’t live that long. Even if I’m always careful not to kill him with a tap of my finger or a puff of my breath.

I knew that Zara would use Duane as another of her little toys for her bizarre games. She would keep him a prisoner, shrink him at will, crush him between her big breasts and repair him with her magic every so often. That seemed like fun in comparison to the years of torture I had planned for him. Too pleasant a fate as far as I’m concerned. But, it would still be a much greater (and longer-lasting) humiliation than a quick kill, as his sister had intended. I knew Zara would never let him go. She’s far too possessive with her toys for that. And he would exist purely for her twisted amusement, which would be fitting for a would-be mind-controller.

And, keeping a pet can become a bit of a drag sometimes. I have to feed and water him everyday (well, OK. Some days I don’t get round to it, but I still have to do it almost everyday to stop the puny thing dying on me.) Also, he smells and I have to hose him down every so often so that the neighbours don’t notice (it’s not a problem for me, I’m well used to tuning out the stench of men). Additionally, although I’ll never grow tired of listening to his cries of agony and pleas for mercy, his moaning at other times can be a little boring.

It came down to this: would Duane’s hypothetical life with Zara be bad enough for me to be satisfied that he was still serving his punishment? If so, then I knew that I would not miss the thrills of hurting and humiliating him. Not when I was living on a planet which has billions of other males for my sport…

“Zara,” I said, “you can have the creature. Just as soon as the last of the girls out in space has been zapped.”

“Oh goody!” she almost clapped in delight. “Another little toy for my collection!” She turned to Duane. “I think you’re going to be one of my favourites. I’m going to play with you so much!” Duane did not react. Maybe the “Kiss of Obedience” had something to do with that.

“So, we have a deal then?” I asked. I’ll admit to being a little new to this ‘negotiating’ thing. My usual style is to just take what I want from the other party and occasionally offer some casual violence in exchange…

Zara nodded her acceptance.

“OK. I said. Here’s the plan. Ultra and I will wait just outside while you fire that thing at Daphne. Then we’ll come back in and test the results. If it works, we’ll start bringing the other girls down in groups and zapping them.”

“Fine.” said Zara. Of course, when I said that we would wait “just outside” what I actually meant was three miles up, on the other side of the clouds. But given the speed at which I can fly (and Ultra is no slouch these days either) and the phenomenal power of my super-eyesight, three miles up was the same thing as “just outside”. Within a few seconds, Ultragirl and I were hovering in the upper atmosphere, looking down on the scene taking place inside my semi-ruined apartment far below.

We watched as Zara pointed the antenna sticking out of the little black box at Daphne and then pushed the big green button.

To be continued…



Wednesday 26 April 2006 14:02 BST (GMT+1)

We were watching, both Ultragirl and I, from our station high above the clouds. Watching intently.

We saw Zara press the button. All the way down. And we watched.

We watched Daphne, completely immobile since Zara had cast her “Shell of Paralysis” spell on her. We saw her, as though frozen, utterly unmoving before the magician activated the device.

And we saw Daphne, still locked in position afterwards. There was no flicker, no flash of light, no ray…. Nothing.

“That box is a dud!” Ultragirl exclaimed a couple of seconds after Zara had pushed the button. “I’m going down to check it out.” She tensed, ready to swoop back to my flat.

“Wait!” I said, clutching her arm. My grip on her lovely, smooth, slender skin was powerful enough to turn a solid steel girder into plasma gas in a fraction of a second. But to Ultra, it probably just felt like a firm, but not painful, hold. “There might be a delayed reaction. Or maybe it’s a trick…”

From up there, we could see that even Zara looked confused. She was still holding the device, staring down at it. She lowered the arm holding the black box about half way, then raised it again, then lowered it once more. Her other hand came up and took its own grip on the black box. Then both her arms seemed to tense. It looked almost as if the device was glued to her left hand and she was trying to pull it free with her right.

Then, after a few seconds, she released the left-hand grip, and relaxed both her arms, the “de-super-iser” now contained in her right hand which hung by her hip. About half a minute more passed with nothing else happening below.

“OK,” I said. “Let’s go and see what happened.”

Out of courtesy (and for no other reason), I let Ultra fly into my apartment slightly ahead of me. We landed between Zara and Daphne.

“About time!” said Zara. “I thought you two weren’t going to come back. Were you scared of something?”

“Of course not!” I laughed off her suggestion, and then changed the subject: “What was all that business with you trying to pull the device out of your hand?”

“What bus- oh! That. I think I got a cramp in my hand or something. Fingers locked up for a second. I need to do more hand-exercises. Actually, there’s probably a spell for that…”

“So, did you feel anything when that thing fired?” Ultragirl asked.

“Feel?” wondered Zara. “No. Why?”

“Well, Daphne certainly doesn’t look any different. And I didn’t see any ray or anything coming out of that thing.” Ultra explained.

“Of course she doesn’t look different! She can’t move!” Zara smiled. “The ‘Shell of Paralysis’, remember?”

“OK,” I said, walking towards Daphne. “There’s only one way we’re going to find out if this thing works or not.” I positioned myself behind Duane’s sister, taking each of her upper-arms in one hand, preparing to restrain her if necessary. “Zara, switch off the Shell.” I said.

“It’s a spell, dear. You don’t ‘switch it off’. You revoke it,” Zara lectured.

“In that case,” I said, through clenched teeth, “Please be so kind as to fucking revoke the fucking Shell of fucking Paralysis!”

“Language!” tutted the magician.

“Revoke!” I shouted. “Now!”

Zara shook her head. “No manners,” she observed. “No manners at all…”

I growled. Menacingly.

“Alright, alright,” said Zara. “The Spell is revoked…. Now!”

Suddenly, Daphne’s legs seemed to drop out from beneath her. The arms I was grasping went limp. If it wasn’t for my (unbreakable) hold on her, she would certainly have collapsed to the ground. Indeed, when I let go a few seconds later, that is exactly what she did.

She landed in a heap at my feet. I bent down as Zara and Ultra crowded round too. Daphne’s eyes were closed. Her breathing was slow and laboured. She looked, for all the world, to be unconscious.

“DAPHNE!” I shouted. “WAKE UP!” She stirred slightly, but did not open her eyes. I prodded her gently with my toes. She rolled over several times as a result of my most light of touches. I saw a mark on the beautiful golden skin covering her ribs were the end of my foot had touched her.

“She’s… weak!” I cried, triumphantly. “Look, I bruised her without trying!”

Ultragirl bent over Daphne, and placed a hand on her shoulder, carefully shaking it. “Daphne?” she asked. “Daphne? Can you hear me? Daphne! You need to wake up now. Daphne!”

One enchanting brown eye opened, followed by the other. They seemed to be having difficulty focussing.

“Daphne, are you alright?” asked Ultragirl. Daphne tried to sit up. A half-smile flickered over her full lips for an instant before it vanished. Immediately, she collapsed once more. “She’s definitely weaker.” Ultra confirmed. It was quite a few seconds before Daphne’s eyes opened again. “Daphne, are you OK?” Ultra asked her again.

“¿Qué?” said Daphne. “¿Dónde estoy?”

“What the fuck?” I wondered. Daphne looked at me, groggily.

“¿Quién eres?” she asked me.

“She’s not super anymore,” I concluded. “And she’s not Daphne anymore either.”

“What?” asked Ultragirl.

“¿Qué?” asked the gorgeous, but weak and vulnerable body that Daphne had been using.

“She must have jumped ship again.” I explained. “The device ‘de-super-ed’ the body alright, but Daphne’s brainwaves must have bailed out.”

“So… where did she go?” Ultra wondered.

“Well, given how she said things were so awful between leaving her original body and finding that spaceship, and how she only found that new host by chance, I’d say she would not have jumped without knowing who she was jumping into.”

“Agreed,” said Ultra. “Well, she’s not in me.”

“And she’s not in me.” I confirmed.

“So,” Ultra reasoned, “that only leaves Duane and…. BLOGGER!”

“Duane and me?” I asked. “Don’t you mean Duane and Za- oh!”

The magician was grinning from ear to ear. In her right hand, which was now held out in front of her, was the “de-super-iser”. Her finger was poised over the big green button. And the antenna was pointed directly at the centre of my glorious chest.

“Say ‘Hello’ to the all-new, magically enhanced Daphne!” said, er, Zara. “And then say ‘Goodbye’ to your superpowers!”

“Zara, no!” Ultragirl shouted.

“Zara’s not in right now,” Daphne/Zara chuckled. “Now, where was I? Oh yes. Time for you to get normal.” She moved her delicate-looking, slender finger down towards the big green button on the device that she was pointing at me.

Tune in next time to find out what happened after that….



Thursday 27 April 2006 21:25 BST (GMT+1)

Newly-ensconced in Zara's body, Daphne was enjoying her moment.

Facing me, her finger poised to activate the device that was pointed at my breasts, she couldn't resist bragging.

"You know," she said, "it's just plain wrong for anyone to be as powerful as you are. Somebody has to take you down a couple of thousand notches. How fortunate that I came along at just the right moment. No-one should command such power. No-one! Well, no-one with the possible exception of me, that is. You see, I'm sure that with my genius, once I have stripped you of your special abilities, it will be easy to transfer them to this new body of mine. And then, with your power and Zara's magic, I will be able to-"

There was no more monologue. Frankly, I was getting bored of the sound of Daphne's words in Zara's voice. I decided to take a gamble on the speed of Zara/Daphne's reactions.

As fast as I could (in other words, about three-quarters of the speed of light) I made a grab for the device. Zara/Daphne did not even have time to realise what I was doing before the black plastic box had exploded from the massive momentum of my hundreds-of-thousands-of-times faster-than-sound touch. Small pieces of casing flew outwards from the impact. They shattered against my body and face. They shattered against Zara/Daphne's body and face (thanks to her 'Gown of Invulnerability'). They shattered against Ultragirl's body and face. They embedded themselves in what was left of the walls of my apartment.

The shards of device also badly cut into the flesh of the beautiful Spanish-speaking girl who was still lying on the floor, leaving her bleeding from several dozen small wounds. And they pierced Duane's body all over, making him scream. Instantly, he was covered in blood. "No!" he yelled. "No! It is not Zara's will that I be damaged! It is not Zara's will that you are in her body, Daphne!"

Although she could not be wounded because of her magical protection, Zara/Daphne had nonetheless been knocked back a couple of steps by my lightening assault. She regained her balance, turning to Duane. "That's enough! You've ruined my plans for the last time, little brother. Now you pay!" Then she paused. A look of concentration came over her/Zara's face. "Hmmm... There has to be a spell somewhere in Zara's mind that I can use on you..."

"It is not Zara's will that you use her magic against me!" shouted Duane.

"Shut up about Zara's will, you jerk!" Daphne/Zara shouted back. "Shut up while I find a spell to use on you!"

"It's not Zara's will that I shut up." Duane said, defiantly.

"Where did that bitch hide the memory of her spells?" demanded a clearly more-frustrated-by-the-second Zara/Daphne.

"Duane," I asked, taking advantage of Zara/Daphne's pre-occupation, "how do you know so much about what Zara wants right now?"

"It is not Zara's will that I tell you." Duane answered.

The response intrigued me. How did Duane know that? Because Zara (the real Zara, not her body which Daphne was obviously controlling) had somehow told him? Told him what? Not to tell me that she (Zara) could communicate with him (Duane)? Could the real Zara hear and see what was going on in the room, despite her body being possessed?

It certainly appeared that Zara (as opposed to Zara/Daphne) still had some presence, as manifested by Duane's continual reporting of her "will". The 'Kiss of Obedience' still seemed to be working, and Duane definitely had not transferred his allegiance to Daphne, even though it was his sister's personality that now controlled the lips that had planted the kiss.

"Come on, the magic has to be in here somewhere!" muttered Daphne, her struggle with Zara's memory banks clearly not yielding the results she desired.

Daphne was too busy to have worked out the link between real Zara and Duane. Without wanting to draw her attention, I tried to get a message to the magician: "Duane," I said, casually, "is it Zara's will that you help access her memory for a spell right now?"

"I can't do that," said Duane. "I can't read memories or do ma-" He suddenly stopped mid-sentence. Robotically he turned on his heels to face Zara/Daphne and pointed at her. "That which doesn't belong in that body, come out and show yourself, no matter how oddly."

Instantly, Zara/Daphne began to shake. Her eyes bulged wildly, and her jaw hung open. And then, amazingly, a tiny frog, no bigger than a match-box, leapt from her gaping mouth onto the floor. It hopped several times, in random directions, as if confused, before Ultragirl displayed her superhuman reactions and control to catch it carefully in her hands.

Zara/Daphne stopped shaking and appeared to relax. "What a clever idea that was, getting me to will the spell onto what's-his-name's tongue," she said. "I, ah, owe you one."

"Ribbit. Ribbit." said the animal in Ultra's grasp.

"Is that you back again, Zara?" Ultragirl asked, unconvinced.

"In the flesh." the frog-spitter claimed.

"So... er," Ultra's next question was obvious, "this frog is Daphne?"

"Exactly," said the girl who claimed to be Zara.

"Ribbit. Ribbit." said the frog.

"Prove it," I challenged.

"Very well." answered the alleged-magician. She raised a hand and pointed at the naked, unconscious, wound-covered girl on the floor. "Your body's damage is easy to fix thanks to Zara's little magic tricks." she said. A moment later, the girl's skin was restored to its previous almost flawless condition. All traces of cuts and blood had disappeared.

Zara turned next to Duane and indicated him with her extended finger. "Your body's damage is also easy to fix with another of Zara's little tricks." she promised. And sure enough, all of his wounds vanished. The tears in his clothes remained, but his flesh had been magically healed.

"Wow, that's so cool!" commented Ultragirl.

"Oh, that's nothing," bragged the girl who seemed more and more the genuine Zara by the minute. "If you want to see something really impressive, watch this. Could you put the frog down, please?"

Ultra obliged, letting the little thing hop from her hand onto the floor.

Zara pointed at the reptile. "Your original body was lost way back when, but wait... now it returns to you once again!" A flash of light obscured the frog for a split second. And then, standing there was a girl. A fairly ugly girl, even by "normal" standards. She looked a lot (an awful lot) like a only-slightly-feminised copy of Duane.

"My body!" cried Daphne, looking down at herself. "My horrible, un-super, un-magic, un-sexy body! What have you done to me?" She started to cry.

"Like sister, like brother." I observed, with a grin.

"My brainwave blasts don't even work anymore!" sobbed Daphne. None of us had even realised she had been trying to zap us.

"Zara," I asked. "Can you put the de-super-iser back together again? We need to use it four hundred and ninety-five more times."

"No can do." said Zara with a shake of her head. "But I know a nice little boy who can." She turned to Duane. "Davey," she said.

"Duane," corrected Duane.

"Whatever," said Zara "be a dear and make another of those little devices for me. It is my will that you do so at once!"

"Of course," said Duane, respectfully.


To be continued...



Friday 28 April 2006 17:08 BST (GMT+1)

The scene in my flat was remarkable by just about anybody’s standards.

Most of the living room ceiling was in small pieces on the floor. The roof of the building, another storey up, had been largely destroyed, and a big patch of evening sky was clearly visible. There was a big hole in the bathroom wall, and smaller holes in the kitchen and exterior walls. A gorgeous, naked, (presumably) Latin American girl lay on some rubble on one side of the living room, deeply unconscious. Duane, his clothes perforated by countless tears, sat hunched over the kitchen table, hard at work building a new “de-super-iser”, muttering to himself about components, energy paths and “Zara’s will”.

His sister, Daphne, restored to her original (frankly ugly and most definitely puny) body, was perched on a big chunk of smashed concrete, sobbing continuously whilst Ultragirl stood over her, looking stunningly sexy with her arms crossed dominantly under her magnificent bust. Ultra didn’t have to say that she regarded Daphne as her prisoner now. It was clear from the fierce look in her piercing bright eyes. I have to say, I was getting the hots looking at her superhuman physical glory.

Zara, the magician with her low-cut, flowing black dress, standing on the other side of the room, would have stolen the show in any other company. Her beautiful face looked out over her pneumatic breasts with their cavernous cleavage. Her hands, with their shiny black, perfect fingernails rested sexily on her shapely hips as she waited patiently for Duane to fulfil her “will”.

And then, there was me. In the centre of the room. Casually standing, with one knee slightly bent, my long slender arms hanging free, my body slightly cocked at the hips, making my tiny waist all the more apparent and emphasising the incomparable curves of my unsurpassable breasts. My lovely face, with my lips pouting. My flawless skin. My perfect, long, straight, dark brown hair that hung either side of my head. The sexiest woman in history. And, by far, the most powerful being in the solar system.

Sometimes, even I am in awe of me.

Anyway, some time passed while Duane worked, Daphne cried, the other girl slept and Ultra, Zara and particularly I, looked fabulous.

Eventually, Duane announced “Zara! I have completed the device according to your will.”

“Bring it to me, boy.” Zara commanded. Duane nearly fell over himself running to the magician with the small box held out triumphantly over his head. Zara took it from his grasp with two elegant fingers and smiled at him. Then, to my amusement, she actually patted him on the head, as if he were a dog who had just brought her the morning newspaper.

“Well, we’d better start brining those girls down from space then,” I said, catching Ultragirl’s eye.

“Um, I’m not sure I want to leave Daphne unguarded…” Ultragirl hesitated.

“Oh, please!” exclaimed Zara. “I can babysit her for you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” said Ultra, “but I’d prefer to.. y’know, just to be completely sure…”

“So I’m supposed to bring them down by myself am I?” I interrupted. “How much am I getting paid for that?”

“Paid?” laughed Ultra. “You’re doing it to save lives. Innocent lives!”

“Fuck that!” I said. “The sooner all this is over, the better, as far as I’m concerned.” I took off, straight up, through the broken ceiling and roof, to bring the first group of supergirls down from near the orbit of Mars.


Next time: The Homecoming….