"The Super Models". Violent, cruel and evil girls-with-superpowers fiction by Conceptfan.

Chapter 1

The Aliens

The mission was routine. It had been assigned a low-priority by the Presidium, and it carried little risk. They had selected five low-ranking conscripts and had allocated them an ancient, barely space-worthy cargo ship, the "Dying Star." The crew had only one directive: to collect alien life-forms and bring them back to the Homeworld. There were few supplies on board; just empty bays to store the captured specimens and generous stocks of space-travel serum.

The discovery of that serum had one of the most significant moments in their species' history. Its ability to preserve and protect life-forms, coupled with its proficiency for converting natural energy into a form absorbable to its host, opened up whole new areas of possibilities. Firstly, its properties enabled its creators to venture further than ever into space, protected from the rigours of both the journey and the ageing process. Secondly, its energy conversion properties eliminated the need to pack sustenance for long-range travellers. Finally, it soon became apparent that the serum was effective on other species, allowing captured alien beings from far worlds to be brought alive to the research facilities on the Homeworld.

With time, the arrival of yet another cargo-ship full of unknown species from yet another previously unexplored corner of the universe passed almost unnoticed. The scouting missions were given less and less importance. Eventually, it became normal for a cargo ship to loose contact with its homeworld for many centuries as it wandered into uncharted areas of space, its crew and captured aliens sustained solely by serum.

That was very much the case with the "Dying Star" as it entered a newly-discovered solar system. On board, the navigator noted the location of the system's yellow star and its nine planets. Then the chief biologist announced that there were signs of life on the third planet; a small, temperate blue-grey world. The pilot set a course towards the planet. Knowing from experience that many life-forms prefer to congregate on the edge of continents, the navigator selected an orbit over just such an area of the little world.

Even before the ship was in orbit, the crew had observed that the planet was teaming with life. Little time was required to determine which was the world's dominant species. Then there was the process of selecting individuals to take back home. After a while, they focussed their efforts on a group of creatures clustered at the very edge of the land beneath them.

What struck them was the arrangement of the group. The bulk of the individuals - about forty - were clustered in a semicircle around three others. These three had - for whatever reason - decorated their bodies with far less fabric than the others, and they seemed to be very much the centre of attention. There was clearly something special about this trio as far as the other creatures were concerned. A short discussion ensued, ending with the crew of the "Dying Star" deciding that these three would be ideal representatives of their species. All that remained now was to get them on board, give them a dose of serum and put them into storage for the long voyage home.

 

The Earthlings

Kate was in her element. She always enjoyed these group shoots, especially on location by the sea, and even more so on a warm day like this. Being tall, even for a model, she always found herself being placed in the centre of any group. Today was no exception, as she found herself posing with Caroline on her left and Kirsty on her right. She loved being in the middle; being the first of the three that the magazine's readers would notice, standing a whole head above her colleagues. In short she was quite literally the centre of attention and she loved it.

Despite her height, Kate was well aware that the two other girls were severe competition for the eyes of any observers. Desperate to be the most noticeable of the group, she employed every bit of her experience to look attractive; she used her wide, clear brown eyes, her rich full lips, her luxurious long, straight dark brown hair. She thrust her fabulously rounded large chest towards the camera, and turned her body to show off her flawless flat stomach, her exquisitely smooth hips and her long, shapely legs to maximum effect.

She could see the result of her efforts as the photographer and the rest of the gathered observers shifted uncomfortably, their eyes flickering because they were unable to decide what part of her form to stare at. It didn't matter; they were utterly incapable of looking away. She bent her upper body forward causing her immaculately curved and generously proportioned firm, ripe breasts to strain against the thin fabric of her white bra, revealing more and more inviting cleavage. Kate smiled to herself as she saw a number of the men in the crowd looking embarrassed as their trousers suddenly became tighter. She liked the reaction she caused in men. She never grew tired of the way her beauty made them nervous, the way she could make them loose their cool, their dignity - even their control - just by using her body. It was as if she had some kind of power over them, and she loved it.

Caroline, posing to the left of Kate, was no fan of what she called the "hungry dog" look in men. Although she was quite a few inches shorter than her brunette colleague, she had no trouble catching male eyes, due in part to her stunning below-the-shoulder-length copper red hair. When the sun shone on it, as it was doing at that moment, it almost seemed to be on fire. Given her incredible hair, it was all the more surprising that her eyes managed to shine in their own right. They were deep green, bright as emeralds and mysteriously penetrating.

These fabulous eyes sat above her nose, the understated centrepiece of her gorgeous face; small, smooth and straight apart from a tiny upturn at the tip. Below this, a neat round mouth, framed by two luscious red lips. The upper of these was a perfect bow shape, the lower slightly curved and generously protruding in an immaculate pout - the kind that made many men go weak at the knees. But, unlike Kate, Caroline hated the way men stared at her in awe. She felt as if their leers were a form of violation. She despised the way a man's eyes would scan up and down her body after her hair and eyes had caught his attention.

She abhorred the clichéd manner in which a man would drink in her exquisite legs, her slim, slightly muscular stomach and then, unsubtley, pause to rest his eyes on her proud, taut breasts. Of course, Caroline knew that these two bits of her anatomy were particularly attractive. They were not as large as Kate's, and not as round, but they perfectly complimented her shorter, slimmer figure. They sat high on her chest, arrogantly proclaiming their youthful ripeness to all as their slight tear-drop shape meant that when she was standing straight, her perfect pink nipples pointed ever so slightly skyward. She knew that, to the outside world, they screamed "Sexuality!" and she used that fact to her advantage despite herself.

For her, modelling was just a phase she had to go through, a necessary step on the road to her goal. Caroline desperately wanted fame; she longed for the day she could be recognised and admired without having to remove her clothes. She wanted to be loved, praised, even feared, but not leered at. She had vague ideas of achieving her aims through film or television, but the offers she craved had not been forthcoming. Caroline was convinced that, for many casting agents, she was a body, rather than a brain, and this feeling had made her bitter with the world. "One day, I'll show them" was the phrase that went round and round in her mind like a mantra.

That was considerably more than what was in Kirsty's mind. Standing on the other side of Kate to Caroline, the final member of the semi-naked trio was putting all her mental efforts into the task in hand - listening and responding to the photographer's instructions. Kirsty had never been mistaken for intelligent; she was a stereotypical Hollywood-style blond: stunningly beautiful and unable to think her way out of a paper bag. She stood a few inches taller than Caroline, but quite a bit shorter than Kate. Her head was crowned with straight golden hair that cascaded down her shoulders and hung as low as her middle back. Her eyes were blue and innocent, her nose beautifully scaled to the rest of her face.

Kirsty smiled a lot. Her just-not-too-thin lips parted, revealing two sets of dazzling, straight, perfect white teeth. It was the sort of smile that caused the most miserable of strangers to smile back. If only that stranger had been looking at her face. Because whilst Kirsty had that great smile as well as a wonderful pair of long, flawless, shapely legs, a textbook washboard abdomen and exquisitely curvaceous hips, few men passing her in the street ever got to notice those parts of her. The reason for that was the same as the reason why almost all the men she met never seemed to mind her lack of intelligence. Why? Because Kirsty had fantastic breasts.

That's not to say "fantastic" in the sense of very good, but "fantastic" in the sense of belonging in fantasy. They weren't just large - though they certainly were - and they weren't just stunningly round - though they were that, too. They were also unbelievably firm for their size, not appearing to droop even a hairsbreadth. Furthermore, they were immaculately located high and triumphant on her chest with just the perfect width of cleavage between them.

Incidentally, they were completely natural. No surgeon could ever create anything so perfect. When she revealed them in all their naked glory, fortunate observers noticed her immaculate, discreet aereolas - so rare on breasts so large - and her flawless, big rosebud-pink nipples. They were her fortune; they brought her exclusive modelling contracts and made rich men buy her gifts even they could hardly afford. Kirsty understood their value to her. Although she wasn't pleased by men who stared at them, she knew that as a child she had been called stupid and told she would spend her life working in dirty factories. Then, her breasts had come and they had rescued her.

At that moment, those breasts were threatening to fall out of an extremely low-cut vest, the white cotton straining almost to tearing point over her big nipples. Unlike Kate, she didn't have to bend forwards to display her cleavage. She just held herself straight and let her mammaries do the rest. Kirsty didn't know much but she did know that while her chest remained so young and firm and so fully rounded, no-one would care if she wasn't clever. She drew in a breath, making herself swell even more. Almost immediately, she detected a collective gasp from the small crowd watching the photo-shoot.

 

The Encounter (1)

Back on the ship, final preparations were being made for the capture of the three specimens. The crew had been through the procedure countless times. First the ship would enter the planet's atmosphere and take up a stationary position about twenty units directly above the subjects. Then the loading ray would be employed and the creatures brought aboard. Next, they would be treated with serum and finally placed in a storage area. After that, the "Dying Star" would head off into space, looking for other new life-forms.

It was a system that had never failed before. The crew went about their tasks with an air of well-practised efficiency. The navigator guided the craft through the planet's strange atmosphere, paying little attention to the instrument panel that was registering previously unmatched readings. Their equipment had never been used in such an environment before, but almost every new planet held some small surprise. Their system had proved infallible in so many different types of atmosphere that this planet's unique qualities were not deemed worthy of note.

Besides, other apparatus indicated that the ship was being approached by tiny vehicles. They had underestimated this planet's inhabitants' technological ability; clearly the dominant species had developed devices capable of travelling within their world's atmosphere. Again, the crew were not alarmed by this unusual turn of events. Their craft easily outran and outmanoeuvred the little vehicles. At one point, some sort of primitive weapons were deployed against the "Dying Star", but they had no effect against the ageing cargo ship, and the navigator steered into position, ignoring the attempts to interfere with his mission.

 

The Encounter (2)

It was the first time any of the pilots in the elite squadron had ever seen, let alone tailed a UFO. The thing was enormous. There seemed no way it could get off the ground, let alone travel through space. What kind of unearthly technology could make something like that? The military were desperate to find out. An engine that could propel what appeared to be an utterly featureless smooth metal cube about two hundred yards long in height, width and depth, would be an incredible asset. The order went out to force it to ground, by whatever means necessary.

But the object was too quick for even their fastest aircraft. Not only that, but it seemed capable of accelerating and decelerating unfeasibly quickly. It could hover or move in any direction and it could change course suddenly. There was no way the pilots could get close to it. They tried using their air-to-air missiles, but the few powerful warheads that managed to hit their target appeared to have no effect whatsoever on the smooth surface of the alien craft. It seemed to be utterly indestructible.

By now, the highest authorities had been informed. Like the military, though, they were powerless to do anything but wait and see what the mysterious craft's intentions were. The most destructive weapons available were readied in case it proved to be hostile, and a thousand tracking devices followed its every move. Below, millions saw the object streak across the sky.

The UFO finally came to a halt above the Pacific coast of North America, hovering a couple of miles up for a while before suddenly shooting downwards and abruptly stopping dead still. It was only a few hundred feet up and it cast its square shadow over a photo-shoot for a men's magazine which was taking place on the ground. The three models, a photographer and dozens of assistants and spectators craned their necks to see the incredible object.

Before any of them could react to the remarkable sight, they were dazzled by a blinding beam of pure white light that emerged from one of the featureless sides of the alien craft. The light bathed the scantily-clad trio, obscuring them completely from the others' view. A few seconds later, the beam suddenly disappeared leaving behind not a trace of the three beautiful young women who had been posing only moments earlier. Then the ship moved straight upwards, so quickly that it was beyond sight within a few heartbeats. A collective gasp arose from amongst the assembled crowd as the realisation spread: somehow the girls had either been abducted or vaporised by the mysterious craft.

 

The Unexpected Results

With the three subjects securely in the loading bay along with a large quantity of the peculiar mixture of gases that surrounded the strange planet, there was no more need to hang about so near the surface. The crew steered their craft into the upper reaches of the atmosphere and began preparing a dose of serum for the new life-forms. After a short discussion, they decided that the creatures would best absorb it in a gaseous form.

 

Kirsty, Kate and Caroline found themselves in an utterly featureless, circular white room. Instinctively, they held on to each other, their fear driving them to cling to anything familiar. They jumped as one when they heard a peculiar hissing sound above them but there was no time for them to respond as they were enveloped in a thick, rapidly descending orange mist. Less than a second later, the three models were unconscious.

 

In another part of the ship there was a burst of frantic activity. The crew had been calmly observing the administering of serum to the new subjects when they noticed an indicator panel giving danger signals. In an instant, all the other panels on the observation deck began to signal similar warnings. Nothing like this had ever occurred before. The serum was reacting in an unforeseen way to the mixture of gases in the loading bay. Not only that, but it was bonding with the subjects' cells in a completely abnormal manner.

The crew of the "Dying Star" had never experienced anything like it before. The serum had never previously failed to work as it was intended. The warnings coming from the instrument panels continued to grow more urgent, until they began to fear for the integrity of their ship and then for their very lives. There was only one course of action they could take. The contents of the loading bay - strange gases, malfunctioning serum and life-forms - were automatically expelled from the ship. Then the crew steered their craft at maximum speed into deep space, determined to get as far away from the peculiar new planet as possible.

 

Back on the beach there was a state of total confusion. Quite a few people were staring blankly into the sky. Others had sat down on the sand, shaking their heads in disbelief. Then, someone shouted. Dozens of others turned and saw that the brilliant beam of light had returned, seemingly from nowhere. The blinding glow remained fixed for a few seconds until, without warning, it ceased. When the startled observers blinked their vision clear another collective gasp left their throats. There, lying on the ground, were the three girls. It was almost as if they had never gone.

Caroline was the first to move, sitting up slowly, looking around herself slightly dazed. Kate followed suit moments later, followed by Kirsty. The photographer snapped out of his stunned amazement and slowly approached them. His question - "Are you OK?" - seemed a bit pathetic given the circumstances but none of the girls seemed to mind.

"Er.. Yeah. I think." Caroline said.

"What about you?" the camera guy asked the other two.

"I'm.. alright" answered Kate.

"Me too. Actually, I feel great." said Kirsty.

"Yeah, I feel terrific too." added Kate after a moment's reflection.

"You're right," Caroline chimed in, "I feel fantastic!"

The photographer held out his hand towards Kirsty, intending to help her up to her feet. The busty blonde girl raised her hand to meet his, her long, slender fingers reaching out towards his stubby hairy digits. He gripped her, preparing to lift her to her feet. She gripped back and he screamed. Kirsty was just able to make out the sound of crunching bone amongst the yells of agony. He tried to pull his hand away from her, but it didn't move an inch. With tears in his eyes he spluttered through his pain "Let me go! Please let me go!"

Kirsty couldn't understand what was happening. She was confused. Surely, the photographer's big, thick hand was in no danger from her petite feminine grip. Surely he could remove himself from her grasp without having to ask her to release him. In a daze, she slowly opened her fingers, staring in disbelief at the mutilated, discoloured mess that had been his hand. The fingers were crushed almost flat, bent at unnatural angles. A piece of shattered bone poked through his palm, blood flowing freely from the wound. His pink flesh was rapidly turning to black and he clutched his battered hand with his good one, moaning in his obvious distress, "My hand! Jesus, my fucking hand! What have you done to me?"

"Nothing.. I didn't do anything!" blurted Kirsty, on the verge of tears herself. "I just tried to hold your hand. I didn't want to hurt you... I'm so sorry. I just -"

She was interrupted by an astonished outburst behind her. It was Kate. "- Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "I can see through his clothes! I can see through everything! I've got X-ray vision!!"

"Me too!" declared Caroline "I can see through stuff too! This is incredible."

Kirsty forgot about the injured photographer for a moment and squinted into the middle distance. "Yeah," she said, confused, as the clothes dissolved from the people she was looking at and then their flesh too disappeared, revealing a series of upright skeletons. "I can do it too. What's happening to us?"

 

The Next Series of Surprises

Kate sprang to her feet. She was intrigued. Thinking about Kirsty's little accident, she reached down and picked up a small palm-sized rock in her palm. Standing straight again, she stared at the chunk of stone, tightening her fingers. There was a cracking sound and then, suddenly, the rock was reduced to a powder that trickled from her palm. "Fuck!" she exclaimed. She hadn't really put much effort into the squeeze and she had barely felt anything as she did it, but she had crushed a solid piece of rock in her delicate palm. Something amazing was happening here. Something to do with the UFO and the strange orange mist. Something incredible.

The same sense of wonder was overcoming Caroline. She had watched in awe as Kate had crushed the rock. Anxious to see if she, too, had been similarly affected, she jumped to her feet and began walking towards the sea. She'd spotted a small boulder, about the size of her head, that would be ideal for experimentation. She couldn't believe how light she felt as she strode, her steps easy, her head wonderfully clear, her senses remarkably sharp. She found she could detect smells from the restaurant a mile up the coast and spot small fish swimming an equal distance out to sea. Her ears picked up muttered conversations far behind her as clearly as if the speakers were shouting next to her. She really did feel fantastic.

Kirsty and Kate watched as Caroline stepped up to the rock and bent down to pick it up between her two hands. Suddenly, she was holding it on a single, out-stretched palm. She tossed it lightly into the air, catching it on her other palm as if it were a small beach-ball. "This is incredible!" she called out to her two colleagues. "It feels so light. Watch!" and she bent her arm to toss the rock underarm out to sea. Her gentle toss sent the small boulder flying in a graceful arc so far out to sea that only the three girls were able to see it splash down. "Did you see that?" asked Caroline. "I've got super-strength! And super eyes and ears! This is fantastic!"

A few dozen yards away, the injured photographer was being treated by a technician. They both stared in disbelief at the scene unfolding on the beach. Kirsty, still sitting on the sand in a state of bewilderment asked once again "What's going on?"

"The UFO." replied Kate. It must've done something to us. Changed us..."

"Are we going to be alright?" Kirsty asked, her voice containing more than a trace of fear.

"Well, I feel great." said Kate, walking towards the photographer and his carer.

"Me too." Caroline contributed as she turned her back on the sea and strolled towards her blonde companion. Kirsty got lightly to her feet, the expression on her face still betraying an inner discomfort.

"Yeah," she said. "I feel terrific, but I don't understand what's happened to us. I mean -"

"-There's nothing to understand" interrupted Kate. A UFO. has come down and made us super."

"Super?!?" exclaimed Kirsty.

"Super." confirmed Caroline.

"I still don't get it." said the blonde. Meanwhile, Kate's long legs had carried her to the spot where the photographer was receiving treatment. She bent low, reaching out for the technician, offering both him and the wounded man a spectacular view of her stunning cleavage. She smiled as she found she could smell their arousal. She allowed herself a few brief seconds as she employed her newly-acquired X-ray vision to peel away layers of clothes and underwear in order to investigate the two men's growing erections. She was beginning to enjoy herself. Slowly, she placed three slender fingers of one of her hands under the technician's arm.

Remembering what Kirsty had done to the photographer's hand and what she herself had done to the rock, she was careful not to crush the man's shoulder as she gripped it. Then she cautiously began to raise her hand, smoothly lifting the heavy man to his feet. A look of surprise and then shock came over his face as she continued to raise her hand, hoisting him first onto his toes and then completely off the ground altogether. To Kate's delight, he felt almost weightless as his big frame dangled from her delicate hand. She stretched her slender arm upwards as far as she could so that his feet were suspended a foot above the sand. Turning to Kirsty she asked "Now do you get it? We're super. See?"

The technician was starting to get uncomfortable. "Put me down!" he instructed, his eyes momentarily betraying fear until he glanced downwards and caught an eyeful of Kate's chest and the fear gave way to lust. Seeing that, Kate smiled, but made no effort to release him. She was marvelling at the ease with which she was holding him aloft. The technician brought both of his hands towards his armpit, trying to prise open her fingers. Despite putting all his effort into the task, using every ounce of strength he could muster, he could not free himself from her casual grip. He quickly became desperate. "Let me go!" he cried.

When he realised that his plea was being ignored, he removed his right hand, balled it into a fist and punched her with all his might in the centre of her smooth, flat belly, instantly yelling in agony as his knuckles cracked, a dark bruise immediately appearing on his hand. Kate's grin grew wider. To her, the blow had felt like a gentle caress. Clearly, to the technician it had been more like punching a brick wall than a girl. His eyes were watering as he clutched his wounded hand to his stomach. In panic, he kicked out at her, his thick, heavy shoes crashing against her smooth knees and round thighs with absolutely no effect.

A short distance away, Caroline watched in fascination. She found herself getting increasingly excited by the sight of a chunky man struggling in vain against a slim young girl. Never much of an admirer of men, she was enjoying the scene enormously. Without consciously inviting it, she realised she was getting deeply turned on by the technician's predicament. The concept of a woman holding such power over a man thrilled her deeply. Kirsty meanwhile, was finally beginning to comprehend what was going on. After a long period of concentrated thought, she eventually came to the conclusion that, despite her befuddlement, it was pretty cool. By her standards, this was a pretty profound notion.

All the while, the technician was injuring himself on Kate's flawless body. Having badly bruised his toes trying to kick her as well as severely damaging one hand on her beautiful belly, he decided to concentrate his efforts on a more sensitive part of her anatomy. So he made a fist of his good hand and struck the side of her left breast with as much force as he could gather. It proved slightly softer than her stomach. At first. For while the wonderful flesh appeared to yield for a fraction of a second, there was a steel-hard layer beneath that turned out to be just as harmful as her belly. Once again he screamed. Once again a huge bruise spread quickly over his knuckles. Kate merely laughed.

 

The Game Turns Sour

Caroline was almost boiling inside now. The sheer idea of a man breaking his hard, masculine hand on a girl's softest, most feminine flesh went to the very core of her most secret fantasies. She had to live the experience for herself. She strolled away from Kate and the technician, towards the crowd of stunned on-lookers. The all-male crowd stared open-mouthed as she approached, unbuttoning the thin white shirt she was wearing, letting it hang open, revealing her luscious breasts. She walked right up to one of the equipment handlers, an ugly, large and muscular man in his late thirties. He'd spent the last ten years loading and unloading heavy machinery and it showed on his physique.

Standing only a foot away from him, she smiled, placed her hands on her hips and pushed out her impressive chest. Not one to waste words, she said simply, "Punch my tits".

"Wha..?" The big man was astounded.

"Come on, punch my tits." Caroline repeated.

"Are you crazy?" asked the handler. This was not what Caroline wanted. She reached forward, encircling each of the large man's wrists with a thumb and forefinger. He tried to shake his arms free and found to his utter astonishment that he couldn't. "Let go of me!" he bellowed. Caroline paid him no attention as she lifted both his hands up. He tried to resist her, using all his considerable strength to keep his hands by his waist, his formidable muscles bulging. Caroline was amazed how easily she overpowered him despite his exertions, raising his hands effortlessly until they were level with her chest.

"Make fists." she instructed, becoming ever more aroused. When he failed to obey her, she tightened her grip slightly until his unattractive face contorted with pain. "Make fists or I'll crush your wrists to powder." Clearly fearful of the slender red-head, the handler curled his fingers into his palms. Caroline relaxed her twin hold slightly whilst smiling sweetly at the big man. "That's a good boy." she said. "Now, are you gonna punch my boobs or am I gonna make you do it?" As she finished, she squeezed his wrists briefly once more, making him cry out in agony.

"Alright, alright!" he gasped. Caroline released him. He immediately carried out her wish. With his blood enriched by excess adrenaline generated by pain and the anger caused by his humiliation, the ugly man put enough into his right jab to floor a lightweight boxer. That translated to sufficient force to put a very temporary dent in the redhead's naked breast. Both she and her unwilling assailant heard the increasingly familiar sound of crunching bone instants before the handler yelled out in agony. Her supremely erotic flesh had momentarily yielded only to prove vastly harder than a strong man's knuckles.

Watching him whimpering in severe anguish, Caroline felt her arousal reaching new heights. The punch had seemed to her no more than a deliciously light, teasing touch from a lover. She wanted more. "Now the other one." she instructed. The big man looked at her through tear-filled eyes.

"No!" he said, "Please, no!" Caroline had never experienced a man begging her for mercy before. For reasons she didn't understand, she found the whole idea impossibly erotic. Her exposed nipples swelled as she began to loose control of her libido. She'd never been so sexually excited in her life. Seeing the intense look in her eyes, the handler began to back away from her, fearful of what she might do next. Kate watched in mild amusement as Caroline grabbed hold of his uninjured arm, preventing him from retreating any further, despite his struggles. Meanwhile Kirsty looked on, shuffling uncomfortably on her feet as the handler continued to plead with her colleague.

Caroline was far too lost in her arousal to pay any heed to the ugly man's protestations. Maintaining her grip on his forearm, she pulled him to her, his moans abruptly cut off as the impact of his chest against hers knocked all the air from his lungs. With his free, damaged hand he clawed franticly at her face and her sides as her engorged nipples pressed agonisingly into his flesh. Caroline merely adjusted her hold on him so that her arm was behind his back, holding him fast against her. Still unable to draw air, his struggles became even more desperate. That only served to turn on the red-head still further, her steely, expanding nipples now puncturing his skin as he airlessly screamed in pain and terror.

As the handler's face turned purple and then white, Caroline licked her lips in delight, unaware that the pleasant sensation in her chest was being caused by the points of her breasts pushing against his bared ribs. There was a loud crack and suddenly, he stopped moving altogether. That brought Caroline back to her senses. Looking down, she saw that she was covered in blood. Shocked, she dropped the man's corpse. He fell on his back, his bloody, crushed chest visible to all. "Fucking hell!" cried Caroline, "I killed him with my tits!" Kate looked on, her face a mixture of terror and, undeniably, admiration. Kirsty looked as sick as the two dozen onlookers did.

"Oh God!" said the shorter, blond girl. "What are you going to do now? We gotta call the police. Oh God, oh God, oh God."

"Get a grip on yourself." said Kate, authoritatively. "You still haven't got it, have you? We're super now. We can do whatever we want and no-one can tell us not to." The technician, still helplessly suspended from Kate's one-handed hold began to visibly shake in terror.

"Well, I don't want to do that!" Kirsty replied, pointing to the corpse. "You guys are sick."

"Oh, cool it." snapped Caroline as she bent down to tear a strip off the dead man's trousers. She ripped the thick denim as if it were tissue paper. Standing straight again, she used the piece of material to wipe the blood off her exposed breasts, her eyes revealing that she was enjoying the sensation of the rough fabric against her seemingly soft flesh. "He was just a man. And besides, it was an accident. I'll just have to be more careful in future. Although, come to think of it, it did feel pretty good..."

"Stop it!" yelled Kirsty. "You're freaking me out."

"Oh, why don't you call the cops then," taunted the red-haired muderess, "Maybe I could squeeze something out of them too!"

The technician still dangling from Kate's outstretched arm finally realised the danger of his predicament. "Please don't hurt me." he appealed pathetically to the tall girl who had been supporting his not inconsiderable weight with just one hand throughout Caroline's exertions. Meanwhile the wounded photographer at his feet began to nervously edge away. Kate lifted her long, slender leg and brought it carefully down on to his stomach, pinning him helplessly to the sand, despite his efforts to free himself with his good hand.

"No-one's calling the cops." said Kate. "And no-one's going anywhere, either." she added, directing this second statement to the man trapped under her delicate bare foot.

"Let them go!" said Kirsty, almost hysterically. Caroline laughed.

"Make them beg first." suggested the red-haired girl.

"Just let them go" the blonde repeated.

"Nobody tells me what to do anymore. Understand?" said Kate, angrily. She was answered by a male voice coming from the centre of the group of astounded and frightened on-lookers.

"You understand this!" said the voice. All three girls spun to see its source. They barely had time to register that it belonged to a short man - one of the catering staff - and that he was holding some kind of pistol in his hand before he fired the weapon. This was immediately followed by the sound of a bullet ricocheting away as if it had hit a sheet of solid steel. Both Kate and Kirsty turned to look at Caroline. She was smiling.

"Ooh," she said, her voice heavy with mockery. "That could have hurt me. Seems I'm bullet-proof now, however. But nice try - for a man. Now, let's see how tough you are." and she started walking towards the shooter. Kirsty rushed over to intercept her. "That's enough" she cried, at the same time amazed by how quickly she managed to run the distance to her colleague. The caterer panicked when he saw her moving so fast, and squeezed off another round.

The bullet struck Kirsty in the side of her huge left breast, tearing a hole in her over-tight swimsuit and making the mountain of flesh bounce ever so slightly as the slug rebounded harmlessly away. Although the impact caused her no more pain than if she had been hit by a small feather, with her mental state already disturbed, she reacted badly. Turning in fury towards the caterer she glowered "Why are you trying to kill me? I was going to protect you!" As she finished speaking, she ran over to stand in front of him. Again, the speed of her movement was utterly phenomenal.

"I..I'm..s..sorry" he stammered. Despite his fear, he couldn't help but lower his gaze to stare at her incredible chest - so large, so firm-looking, so close to him now. If anything, her breasts looked even bigger now, as if whatever mysterious process had taken place had also augmented her bust as well. "Please.. please don't do anything to me.." he murmured into her enormous cleavage.

"Talk to her face, not her tits!" said Kate, slightly annoyed that Kirsty had captured the man's attention away from her.

"Yeah," said Kirsty, forgetting her anger with her colleagues.

"Well don't just stand there," encouraged Caroline, getting excited all over again. "Teach him a lesson. Show him what happens to naughty boys who get too close to your tits without your permission."

"What do you mean?" asked the blonde girl, genuinely confused.

"Oh come on, Kirsty!" said Kate, exasperated now. "You're super. You can do whatever you want with him."

"I.. I don't know.." mumbled the shorter, busty model.

"Crush his ugly face on your beautiful tits!" cried Caroline, the arousal in her voice clear for all to hear.

"No. No!" cried the caterer, suddenly even more afraid. The rest of the group of men began to edge away from him. Kirsty did not move. She could hear the man's heart pumping furiously. She really didn't want to hurt him. On the other hand, she recalled, he had shot her. And stared at her chest when he was supposed to be apologising to her. But she hated what Caroline had done to the equipment handler. Although, she had to admit that she was curious to see if she was as strong as her colleagues appeared to be….

The caterer made Kirsty's decision for her. His eyes remained fixed on her chest, his brain apparently unable to move them despite his terror. Anger rose inside the blonde girl. Then, as if he had a death-wish, he allowed a single drop of saliva to accumulate on his bottom lip before failing to stop it as it fell like rain onto her feet. "You sick bastard! That's all you can think of!" yelled Kirsty.

"No! No! I'm sorry!" pleaded the man in front of her as she reached up, placing each of her hands on the side of his head, against his ears. Remembering the photographer's hand, she was careful not to crush his head between her palms as she pulled it forward and down towards the massive expanse of her cleavage.

"You want tits?" she asked, angrily. "Then have tits!" And she yanked his face onto the top of her breasts, rubbing it aggressively from side to side as he screamed in pain and fear. There was a crack as his nose broke against her soft flesh. Blood began to flow from the wound. More appeared as her breasts proved so much harder than his face, the supposedly soft flesh splitting his lips and knocking teeth from his mouth.

She pulled his bleeding, battered face from her chest and looked at it. She could see bruises forming on his cheeks and forehead. He was crying. She pushed him gently away, the force of her thrust enough to send him staggering a dozen steps back until he fell onto the sand, unconscious, but undoubtedly breathing. The other men backed off even further, staring in shock at the blonde girl who had just beaten up a man with nothing but her delicious feminine curves.

"Now, didn't that feel good?" asked Caroline.

"I taught him a lesson, that's all." said Kirsty.

"Do you see what it means to be super now?" enquired Kate.

"Yeah." answered the blonde, truthfully. She wouldn't admit it, but she had enjoyed having so much power over a man. At least, she thought, he had deserved it. And she hadn't killed him. Not like Caroline had done.

Meanwhile, Kate seized the opportunity to become the centre of attention once more. Adressing the two men she held captive - one in her hand the other under her foot - she asked "And you two. Do you understand what it means to be a man around a super girl?"

"Yes!" the both chimed, their voices unsteady with fear. Kate held them fast as she turned to the main group of men.

"What about all of you?" There was a chorus of "yes"s and "we understand"s. She removed her foot from the photographer's belly and released her grip on the technician, letting him fall without dignity on top of his colleague. With groans and wheezing, they both climbed unsteadily to their feet and moved towards the main group. The unconscious caterer and dead handler remained still, lying on the sand.

"This is totally fucking cool!" said Kate to Caroline and Kirsty.

"Damm right!" answered the red-head.

"Guess so." said Kirsty. "As long as we don't kill anyone else. But what do we do now?" she indicated the battered corpse as she spoke.

Before anyone could reply, the three girls turned as one to look up at the sky. It was quite a while before anyone else there realised what had caught their attention. But then, only the three girls possessed super-hearing. The others didn't hear the approaching helicopters nearly so quickly…

 

Conceptfan, Nov. 2001.

Chapter 2

Disagreement

Kate, Caroline and Kirsty turned to face the sky, their eyes narrowing as their newly-acquired telescopic vision zoomed in on the three approaching helicopters. By the time everyone else on the beach had spotted the craft as tiny dots above the horizon, the three models had already studied the seven faces of the men inside, three in the leading chopper and two apiece in the others. Nobody on the ground moved for a while until the first helicopter was almost directly overhead. Then, Kate, thinking out loud, said:

"They've come to investigate the space ship."

"D'you think they know about what happened to us yet?" inquired Caroline, a mischievous grin on her face.

"You're in trouble if they do." said Kirsty, pointing to the crushed remains of the man Caroline had hugged to her now-harder-than-steel chest.

"How many times, girl?" Caroline retorted, exasperated. "No-one can touch us now. We're super. We can do whatever we want. Don't you get it?"

"Stop it, you two!" Kate snapped. "We've got to wait and see what they want before we work out what we're going to do next."

Caroline turned angrily towards the taller girl. "Who put you in charge?" she demanded.

"Look," came the reply, "it just makes more sense to find out a little more about-" she never finished her sentence as her aggressive redheaded companion interrupted her.

"-No, you look. In case you haven't noticed, I seem to have super powers now. That means I don't have to wait for anyone to do anything. I can do whatever I want whenever and however I feel like and no-one can stop me. Those aliens have made us gods. If you're not prepared to take advantage then it's not my problem."

"Caroline!" This time it was the blonde girl, Kirsty, who protested. "We don't know if what's happened to us is dangerous or something. And those guys in the choppers - they look like they're really important. They're all wearing suits and ties and they've got those little black cases like lawyers and-"

Caroline reacted furiously. "Important? 'Cause they look like lawyers? Can a lawyer do this?" She strode rapidly towards the crowd of photoshoot staff and onlookers who were trying to keep their distance from the girls. The casually-dressed young men who made up the bulk of the group began backing away from the petite redhead as she charged in their direction. Her slender arm flashed out at her side, and four feminine fingers and a thumb wrapped themselves around the neck of a short, overweight guy in a T-shirt whose job had been pouring cups of water for the girls to drink between shots.

The fat man's face turned bright purple as Caroline lifted him off the ground by the back of his flabby neck, her face revealing that his excess weight didn't bother her at all. He thrashed his chubby limbs about a little, and then tried elbowing his unlikely captor in her flat stomach with all his might. Despite the padding of layers of blubber, his reaction made it clear that he'd bruised himself on her silky-smooth, superhuman abdomen. The owner of that abdomen did not so much as blink. Rubbing his elbow, he made for a ridiculous sight, a big, round man hanging uncomfortably from the one-handed grip of a beautiful slim girl.

"Put him down! He's done nothing to you!" Kirsty screeched at the redhead. She was answered with a laugh. The overweight guy began to snivel pathetically.

 

 

Push comes to shove

Kate decided that this was her moment to re-enter the debate. "Caroline, come on. He's just the water guy. Why don't we wait to see what the chopper guys have to say before we start getting rough?"

"For the last time. You aren't my boss, Kate. And you -" she nodded towards Kirsty - "if you love him so much, why don't you take him home with you. Here, catch!" A little flick of her delicate wrist sent the huge mass of the fat man arcing through the air, a yell of shock on his lips as he flew, upright the whole time. His flight path carried him to a peak where his feet were about fifteen feet above the sand, before he began to descend towards Kirsty who was standing thirty feet from Caroline at the time. Her shocked, blonde-framed face became a study in concentration as she opened her arms to catch the big man.

Kirsty had only possessed her super powers for a few minutes when she tried to safely intercept the falling water guy. She had not yet come to understand the enormous physical gulf that had developed between Kate, Caroline and herself and the rest of the planet. So, when she let the fat man fall squarely into her body she did not make any adjustments for his comparative frailty. He would have been far better off falling onto concrete. His chubby chest slammed into her enormous, high breasts, the impact instantly crushing his ribcage, and ending his life even before his knees were pulverised against her thighs.

Kirsty's arms instinctively went around as much of his enormous waist as they could, holding him firm. It was far, far too late. She saw his dull eyes, the blood gushing from his mouth and looked down to see his horrific hollow chest which seemed to have moulded itself around her big, supergirl's breasts. She pulled her arms off him in shock, letting his body slide to the sand at her feet. Turning to Caroline in fury, she screamed.

"Look what you made me do! What's wrong with you?"

Caroline chuckled. "There's nothing wrong with me. And from the look of him -" she indicated the dead fat man with her head - "there's nothing wrong with you either."

"You bitch." answered Kirsty, running towards Caroline so fast only the three girls could even see her move. To the others she was a blur.

Her anger now fully in control of her thoughts, Kirsty charged Caroline, intending to push her to the ground. But the phenomenal momentum of her high-speed run coupled with the superhuman force of the shove she gave the redhead, did much more than that. If Caroline hadn't recently become invulnerable, she would instantly have been reduced to atoms. Instead, she was thrown off her feet and sent rocketing backwards, almost sitting on the air as she travelled, buttocks-first, at supersonic speed, her arms and legs pointing in the direction she had come from.

Caroline had no control over her flight. She didn't turn her head to see the crowd behind her as she hurtled at them. It was a total shock to her as her back and seat smashed into - and through - a couple of stunned bystanders. The shower of gore from the collision covered almost the entire crowd. It was as if the two guys had exploded, their lives over in a instant. But their sacrifice did not serve to slow Caroline's flight. She continued to travel backwards for a further two hundred yards until she finally hit the sheer granite cliff face at the top of the beach.

The petite red-haired girl's back slammed into the ancient rock with such force that she ploughed nearly five yards into it, the hard stone cracking and crumbling around her as if it were very dry mud. As she, at last, came to rest, she settled into a waist-high pile of rubble - all that was left of a huge section of cliff-face. Her lithe, sexy body had proven itself far, far tougher than mere granite. Within a few seconds, she was back on her feet, brushing the cliff dust off herself and tucking a few loose strands of copper hair behind her ear.

Looking up, she saw the bloody mess of two men that littered the path between Kirsty and the cliff. She noticed the splashes of gore on her shoulders and backside and realised how the men had been killed. She also noticed (how could she not) the damage her rear had done to the mighty wall of granite. "That was fucking amazing!" she yelled towards her two fellow models.

Kirsty was on the verge of tears. Driven to anger by Caroline's cruelty, she had now been responsible for the deaths of three men inside a minute. Although she couldn't help but be impressed by the results of her strength (especially the graphic manner in which they were displayed at the foot of the cliff,) she was furious with the redhead. "You stupid crazy bitch!" she yelled. "Look at all this blood!"

"So?" Caroline called back. "It's not mine!" And she laughed.

 

 

Aerial observations

Mark Johnson had been with the FBI for two decades. In that time, he'd seen a lot of incredible sights. But nothing - absolutely nothing - came close to the weird shit that was going on beneath him on the beach. He was in charge of this team and it was up to him to decide what they should do. That might have been easy had it not been for the events of the last few minutes. Now, sitting in the lead helicopter, he was as confused and shocked as any of the surviving men on the ground.

They'd been sent to this location because that was where the mysterious alien craft had temporarily descended into Earth's atmosphere before its sudden, fast retreat into space. At no other point had the UFO come so close to the planet's surface. In addition, a massive burst of energy had been detected while the craft had been hovering. So what was so special about this spot, and what was the nature of that energy-blast? It was the job of his team to find out.

The first thing they had noticed was that there was a group of people at the co-ordinates they'd been given. Had that been what had drawn the aliens to this place? And had they used some kind of weapon against them? They would have to land and ask some questions. But before he could give the order to descend, his attention was captured by events taking place below. Through binoculars, he had spotted three people - probably women in swimsuits from the look of them - standing separately from the others. He watched in disbelief as one of them - a redhead - appeared to lift a fat guy off the ground with one hand.

Focusing on the astonishing sight, he was pretty sure he saw the redhead throw the big man at the blonde. From this distance, it was hard to be certain, but he was convinced he had seen the blonde catch the flying gut-bucket. She should have been knocked over, but instead it appeared that it was the man who ended up lying on the sand whilst the blonde, who even from that height looked rather busty, remained on her feet.

Then, incredibly, she became a blur that stopped where the red-haired one was standing. That one flew off from the spot as if shot backwards from a cannon. She went right through the crowd, smashing a couple of guys to offal as she hit them, before her body punched a great big hole in a cliff. To his increased amazement, Johnson saw her pick herself up and dust herself down as if she'd merely tripped rather than flown two hundred yards through the air, destroying two men and a chunk of cliff. It was like something out of a comic book.

He knew that the only explanation for the unbelievable activity below was extraterrestrial involvement. If the blonde and the redhead weren't actually aliens themselves then they certainly had been affected by something alien. Was that what the burst of energy had been about? And the third girl who had been standing with the other two - did she also possess impossible physical abilities? How many others as well? He knew the only way they could get any satisfactory answers was by bringing everyone on the scene back to base where the lab boys could do their stuff.

But how were they supposed to do that? Especially if one of them appeared capable of pushing people hundreds of yards into cliffs and another one seemed to be as tough as if she were made entirely out of steel. What did they want? Did they represent a security risk? Were they working to some alien agenda? One thing he knew was that he and his men had to intercede before it was too late. The lab boys wouldn't appreciate it if they carried in the girls and the rest of the crowd down there in polythene bags. No, they needed to bring them all back in one piece. And alive.

Fortunately, they were equipped for such an eventuality. In anticipation of finding alien life-forms, the choppers had been loaded with powerful long-range tranquilliser guns. With four well-trained shooters in the three helicopters, he calculated that they could easily put everyone down there to sleep within seconds. Then, they could land, pick up the unconscious "specimens" and ferry them back to base. It seemed a perfect plan. Shouting above the din of the engine, he relayed his plan by radio to the pilot beside him and the pilots of the other two choppers. The three craft took up new positions hovering over the group at a height of about one hundred and fifty feet.

 

 

The girls get their rocks

Kirsty was still furious with Caroline. Her apparent lack of care for the three guys she'd caused Kirsty to kill only made her angrier. She wanted to make Caroline feel as bad as she did. But if Caroline appeared to have no emotions, then she would have to make her feel bad another way: by hurting her. Fully aware now of her own vastly increased strength, she cast her eyes about her, looking for something to hurl at the redhead. Her gaze lighted on a head-sized rock lying a couple of yards away. Two strides brought her up to it. She bent down, positioning her hands either side of it.

As she bent, the men clustered on the beach behind her were treated to a first class view of her tight, shapely backside. Kirsty's enhanced hearing detected the quickening of their heartbeats and chose to ignore them. Her hands closed around the rock and she straightened up. She was amazed by the way the big chunk of stone felt as light as a beach-ball between her palms. Hoisting it effortlessly over her head she turned to face Caroline. She drew her arms back a little, incidentally thrusting out her enormous breasts as she held the heavy rock in the air.

Kirsty brought her arms over her head as she leant forward, letting go of her cargo at the last minute. She put all her anger into the throw and the rock zoomed like a supercharged cannonball. It covered the two hundred yards to its target in little over a second, never rising above ten feet from the ground as it hurtled towards Caroline.

The redheaded girl saw the missile headed her way and found, to her delight that she had plenty of time to prepare for it, despite its remarkable velocity. Quite simply, the rock was coming fast, but she was even faster. Curious about the full extent of her new abilities, she elected not to move out of the boulder's path but rather to let it hit her as Kirsty intended. It struck her squarely on her cute face, instantly dissolving into countless tiny fragments that sprayed out in all directions. To Caroline's delight, not only did the tremendous impact leave her flawless complexion utterly unmarked, it hadn't even hurt her.

She'd felt the rock hit her, rather like being gently hit by a feather pillow. But the big chunk of stone that had been travelling at hundreds of miles an hour had failed to cause her even a moment's discomfort. Caroline smiled. Now she felt truly super. "This is so fucking cool!" she called. She looked at her two colleagues. Kirsty looked surprised, but a little less angry. Perhaps throwing the rock had helped her work off her temper. Or perhaps the spectacular sight of a boulder proving no match for a young woman's beautiful face had stunned her out of her rage.

Kate's face, meanwhile, made it clear that she was immensely impressed with what she had just seen. Glad of an opportunity to distract her colleagues from their little cat-fight, she yelled at the red-haired girl "Hey, Caroline! Throw one at me! I wanna try it too!"

"I told you you weren't in charge." was the reply.

"Oh, come on! I'm asking you. Go on, you know you want to!" Kate shouted back.

Caroline looked at the ground around her feet. She was standing almost knee-deep in rubble and debris from the cliff she'd smashed into. An idea occurred to her. She'd grant Kate her request, but she wasn't going to bend down for her. She took a quick step forward through the rubble, the rocks and stones scattering before her, not slowing her step even slightly. Then she brought her other foot forward, planting her bare toes squarely on a rough-edged oblong-ish chunk of granite that was slightly bigger than the rock Kirsty had thrown at her. She executed her graceful kick immaculately, following through with her foot for maximum power.

The sharp bit of stone spun rapidly as it soared at two hundred miles an hour in a perfect low arc towards the tall brunette who stood impeccably still watching its trajectory. Like Caroline a few moments before, Kate realised she had plenty of time to anticipate the rock's arrival but, motivated by a sense of wonder, chose to let it hit her. A half-second later, it did.

The granite struck Kate on the bridge of her nose, a large chunk immediately splintering away to land in the sand twenty feet away. Kate didn't even blink as the middle section of the rock crumbled almost to dust as its irresistible momentum pressed it into the girl's beautiful, and now invulnerable, face. Small fragments flew off at every conceivable angle, some travelling far and fast enough to wound some of the men who were standing fifteen yards from her. The impact lasted only a fraction of a second, but Kate used her wonderful new abilities to stretch out the moment so she could enjoy each and every tiny aspect of it.

She loved the idea of a huge, dense, hard and sharp piece of rock - and one that was travelling like a rocket at that - being pulverised by her lovely face. Her skull, her nose, even her lips and eyes were harder even than granite! She knew that Caroline had kicked it at her with more than enough force to kill half-a-dozen men, but to her the feeling was almost pleasant. At any rate, it definitely didn't hurt her. She smiled as the remainder of the once mighty slab, its momentum now spent, bounced weakly off her face to fall groundwards.

The last fragment did not have a clear run to the sand, however, and it came to rest lying flat on the shelf of her breasts. The size of her chest and its superhuman firmness comfortably held the big bit of granite. The rough stone didn't even feel uncomfortable on her sensitive feminine flesh. In fact.... Kate rather liked the sensation. She brought her hand up and pushed down on top of the slab, pressing it into the top of her breasts. For a moment, she felt as it she was being stroked by a lover. Then there was a cracking sound and the granite began to break apart, some pieces falling into her generous cleavage, others rolling off her mounds to fall at her feet.

Fascinated, Kate stared at her chest as her dainty hand ground the remaining fragments to powder, the tough rock obliterated by the incalculable pressure she casually created between her fingers and her breasts. A feeling of immense strength coursed through her veins as a huge grin spread over her lovely face. It was amazing to be so powerful. She realised she was beginning to turn herself on. "Did you see that?" she called to both Kirsty and Caroline. Neither girl responded verbally.

 

 

Discovery of another new ability

Kate looked down at her body in admiration. As she did, she noticed a couple of thumb-sized chunks of granite that had become trapped in her cleavage. Even though the bits were rough with sharp edges, she hadn't even felt them as they pressed against one of the most sensitive areas of her anatomy. She brought her hands up to her wonderful chest, cupping her big round mounds through her tiny bikini top. Then, slowly, as if lost in an erotic daydream, she began to push her breasts together. She heard the little pieces of rock begin to crack as she closed her cleavage, enjoying the light sensation of granite being crushed in there.

She continued to squeeze herself together until her breasts were touching. She was making no more effort than she had always used to cup herself, but this time she was grinding the hard stone to powder in the process. It felt great. She rubbed her large breasts against each other to finish off the few surviving bits of granite and then relaxed her hold, letting a significant amount of powder run out of the newly reopened valley of her chest. Semi-awe-struck, she looked at herself. The exposed upper portions of her chest were covered in rock dust.

Unthinkingly, she pushed out her lips as if she was about to whistle a tune and with her head stilled bowed, she blew. She wanted to get the dust off herself. A few weeks before, she'd done a ridiculous photoshoot involving a ton of fake snow. She'd got a load of that stuck to her breasts too and had had to blow it off her. Remembering that incident, Kate used a similar amount of puff as she tried to clear the rock dust. But, unlike when she'd been clearing the snow, she was superhuman now. And so, it turned out, were her lungs.

As Kate began to exhale, the wind rushing through her sexy, pouting lips make a sound like a passing typhoon. The dust instantly flew from her chest, flying a couple of hundred yards out to sea before falling under the power of gravity once more. Soon, the sand at her feet began to be blasted into the air, completely obscuring her from the eyes of everyone except Caroline and Kirsty. The mini sandstorm rose like a column thirty feet into the sky, raining down in a circle about fifteen yards in diameter.

Seeing the remarkable effects of her breath, Kate immediately stopped blowing. A second later, half a ton of sand resettled over the beach. There was a crater two yards across and four feet deep next to her dainty, bare, feminine feet. For a moment, there was a stunned silence except for the continual noise of the three helicopters overhead. Then, finally, Kate spoke. "Fuck!" she exclaimed. "This is absolutely awesome!"

One or two of the stunned onlookers turned to look at Caroline standing two hundred yards away by the cliffs, expecting her to shout back a reply. Instead, they heard a boom as she became a pink and red blur, a streak that shot across the beach and ended with her suddenly standing quite still right next to Kate. She'd covered the distance in a second, but she looked completely relaxed. The exertion of running faster than the speed of sound hadn't brought a single drop of sweat out anywhere on her perfect body. She wasn't even a little out of breath.

Kirsty joined them from much nearer by, a dozen comfortable, ordinary steps carrying her to her two companions. When she arrived, the girls looked at each other in excited amazement. There was no sign of the anger or infighting of a few moments before. It was as if Kate's remarkable display had brought them together again. Or perhaps they had simply forgotten what they were squabbling about, so impressed were they by this latest discovery of a superhuman ability.

A little way away, another group came together - the surviving members of the photoshoot party who hadn't received a dose of alien serum. A couple had various injuries - cuts, broken limbs and so forth. Many were splattered with the remains of their two colleagues who had been obliterated by Caroline's flying body when Kirsty had shoved her. All of them had sand in their clothes and hair from the storm that Kate had accidentally created. They shot nervous glances at the three girls, their general mood one of shock, and not a little fear.

 

 

The FBI take aim

Johnson couldn't believe what he had just seen. At first the girls had continued throwing rocks about like rice at a wedding. One of them had kicked a boulder, barefooted. He had seen the tall brunette also proving herself harder than stone and then appearing - it was hard to be sure from where he was looking - to crush granite to powder against her bosoms. Then, something weird had happened. That tall one had created a huge disturbance in the sand at her feet like a tiny, localised hurricane. It was only when Davers in one of the other choppers radioed that he'd seen it too that they figured it out. She was doing it with her breath! These three girls - somehow - had acquired a whole range of superhuman powers.

He had to act fast. The situation down there was threatening to get out of control. There were other civilians who looked, by their reactions, to be frightened by the female trio. Clearly the three girls were the only ones affected. Johnson swept the area with his binoculars and could see that there had already been casualties. It was his duty and responsibility to do something before there were any more. He gave the order for his men to ready their tranquilliser darts. Other than the pilots, each man in the three choppers had been assigned three or four targets to prevent anyone down there being hit twice while others remained untouched. They were highly trained and highly skilled.

 

 

Strike one

Kirsty's hand instinctively flashed up to the back of her neck. She'd felt something like an insect crawling there, but the sensation had vanished before she'd consciously registered it. Half a second later, Kate reacted in a similar manner, her palm brushing her shoulder blade. Neither girl would have thought anything of it were it not for them both getting a clear view of what looked like a dart hitting Caroline on the top of her head before bouncing straight up in the air. Kate caught it in her hand and held it out for examination. Suddenly, there was a chorus of yelps from the group of men cowering some yards away.

The three girls turned sharply to watch as one by one the men collapsed onto the beach. They dropped like flies until within six seconds no-one was left standing. The trio's superhuman eyes easily spotted the darts that were protruding from the bodies of each of the fallen. Kate looked back at the little missile in her hand. She saw that the point of the needle had been bent completely back on itself by her companion's skull. She could also see that the other darts had found no problem penetrating the flesh of the men.

She was about to speak when two more of the things pinged off her; one glancing off her arm, the other bouncing harmlessly off the top of her left breast. Looking up, she spotted another pair rebounding off Kirsty's head and hip and a further couple striking Caroline's ear and shoulder. Not one of the nine darts fired at the girls left even a microscopic mark on its target. Certainly none came close to breaking through their smooth, invulnerable skin. But that wasn't the point.

"So, we've waited to see what the nicely dressed guys in the choppers have to say, Kate." Caroline said, her voice heavy with irony. "I don't think we need to worry about a bunch of idiots who think they can stop superwomen with kids' toys. Perhaps I should show them how to throw things properly so that they actually hurt."

"No, don't!" said Kirsty. "Why're you so keen to hurt people?"

"They started it." said Caroline and once more she became a blur. Half-a-second later, she re-materialised fifty yards away next to a small outcrop of rocks that had been worn smooth and round by centuries of lapping waves. She bent over the stones and when she straightened back up she held a spherical boulder, about two foot across, between her palms. It felt weird. She knew that the rock she was holding had to be extremely heavy, but it felt as light as a tennis ball to her. She tossed it up a couple of times, letting it soar a few feet above her head, catching it easily, all the while looking at one of the three helicopters that hovered almost directly overhead.

"Caroline, don't!" called Kate. A big smile spread slowly over the redhead's upturned face as she bent her knees for maximum spring. Then she straightened her legs, flinging her arms upwards as she threw the rock straight up into the air with all her strength.

It travelled so fast it had already punctured the chopper's fuel tank, passed right through the craft and one of its two passengers, smashed through the roof and broken one of its overhead blades by the time the tank ignited. When the helicopter finally became a ball of fire with clouds of thick red and black smoke spreading from it, the rock was still heading skywards, dozens of yards above the scattering remains of the aircraft it had destroyed.

Chunks of burnt, flaming, twisted helicopter plummeted down to the beach, landing all around Caroline as she laughed to see the destruction she had caused. A large piece of the tail, almost completely intact, fell directly onto her head, cracking into two halves as the tumbling metal proved no match for the girl's skull. She didn't even blink with the impact. Quite a few seconds later, the rock she had thrown finally came down, landing a few paces away from her, carving a deep crater in the sand as it crashed to Earth.

 

 

The gloves come off

Johnson was shaking. Despite all his experience and training, he had been utterly stunned by what had just happened. He'd seen the tranquilliser darts laying the whole crowd of men low in seconds. He'd seen three times as many darts fail to puncture the skin of his main targets. Then he'd watched as one of those targets - a slim, red-haired girl - ran faster than humanly possible to casually pick up a rock two men would have struggled with. Then to his horror, that same, slender young woman had launched the rock into the sky. She threw it so hard and fast, it had destroyed a military helicopter, killing its two occupants, in a split-second.

His alarm grew as he watched the girl apparently laughing as she stood perfectly still, unharmed as the debris of the exploded chopper fell on her. Now he was certain. The three girls represented a very grave threat. They would have to be neutralised as soon as possible, regardless of any scientists' need for live specimens. He gave the order for the remaining men to put away their tranquilliser rifles and to ready their automatic weapons. Then he made his intentions clear to his colleagues. The plan was simple: shoot them. Shoot them a lot. Then shoot them some more.

 

 

Strike two

"Stop laughing you bitch!" screeched Kirsty.

"You going to make me?" Caroline shouted back defiantly.

"Stop it!" Kate interrupted. "We've got to get the hell out of here now!"

"You as well? Are you going to keep giving orders all day?" How many helicopters do I have to bring down before you two realise that I'm not taking any shit from anybody?"

"Caroline, cool it." said the tallest girl. "We've got to keep our-" Her words were cut off by the sharp retort of machine-gun fire. A series of little columns of sand lifted from the beach in a line that was headed towards the red-haired girl. Another row of explosions appeared behind Kate and another approached Kirsty from the front. Soon, the beach seemed to be alive with bullets raining down from above like a lead thunderstorm.

Pretty quickly, the shooters found their ranges. The five streams of gunfire converged, two on Caroline, two on Kate and a single flow on Kirsty. Bullets began to ping off the girls' bodies, bouncing from skulls, faces, backs, arms, hips, rears, feet, shoulders. Spent shells started to accumulate all around - bent, squashed, mutilated, hot, high-powered lead slugs that had more than met their match in the smooth, flawless skin of three beautiful young women. Women who had started the day as glamour models and were to finish it as the most powerful beings on the planet.

Kirsty looked up to see the onrushing hail of fire. A deadly lead spray slammed into her pretty face from the sky, countless bullets bouncing from her perfect soft skin like dried peas spilling from a high shelf onto a table. Instinctively, she blinked in the face of the onslaught, but in truth even those slugs that hit her exposed eyeballs barely hurt. The sensation was similar, she thought, to looking up at the sky during a mild rainstorm. But, of course, bullets didn't make you wet or mess up your hair. However, she was about to discover that they could be a nuisance in other ways.

As Kirsty stared along the line of fire, she saw the man responsible for the endless flow of bullets that were scattering, deformed, off her lovely features. She saw his eye, pressed to the viewer of his weapon, grow suddenly huge. At the same time, she noticed that the raindrops were no longer falling solely onto her face, but that some of them were now dripping onto another part of her. Two other parts of her, to be precise. And she found that she liked the way they felt. A lot.

Having become accustomed to possessing an exceptionally large chest for a girl as slim as she was, Kirsty knew that anyone positioned directly above her while she was wearing a bikini (as she was that day) always got an eyeful. Now that every muscle in her body seemed to be supercharged and her bust was miraculously self-supporting, that eyeful had become an eye-over-full. So she was not surprised to find that the shooter was staring down at her breasts. Of course, as he got distracted, so did his aim. By now, most of his bullets were bouncing harmlessly off her mounds and her cleavage.

Kirsty didn't find it unpleasant in the slightest. It was kind of like being gently stroked there by a man. It blew her mind to think that instead of rough, masculine hands it was hard, metal slugs that were generating the delicious feeling. She closed her eyes, arching her back slightly to present her would-be killer with an even bigger target. For several moments she lost herself in the warm glow that was spreading inwards from her chest. When she reopened her eyes, she saw a dramatic change in the face of the shooter up in the helicopter. He was positively leering through his viewfinder now, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he held his big gun.

Kirsty hated when men got like that. It made her feel like an object rather than a person. It was only when she glanced down at herself that she realised what had provoked the extreme reaction. She was no longer wearing the upper portion of her bikini. Two tattered bits of cloth hung uselessly around her neck. More pieces of fabric lay on the ground at her feet. It took her a while to work it out. She was bullet-proof. Her clothes however, were not. The stream of gunfire had reduced her bikini to shreds and she was now standing topless, her huge breasts completely exposed to the men shooting at her and her colleagues.

Angrily, she brought her hands to her chest, cupping herself in an attempt to regain some degree of modesty. "Pervert!" she shouted at the man overhead as he continued to drool over her breasts through his eyepiece. If he heard her, he didn't react. Kirsty was furious. Shooting her with a machine gun was one thing, ogling her naked mounds was another altogether. For a moment, she thought about looking around for something to throw at him. Then she stopped. An rare event had occurred. Kirsty had had an idea.

She probably didn't need an object to chuck at the idiot. So far, every time one of the girls had discovered a new "super" ability, the others had soon found that they, too, had the same gift. Anything one could do, the others could do too. And what she was had in mind was what Kate had done earlier. If Kate could do it, why couldn't Kirsty? She had to try. It would be perfect. She wouldn't even need to take her hands from her breasts. And she could show Caroline that it was possible to use super powers against guys to teach them a lesson without having to kill them.

So Kirsty took a deep breath, making her big breasts swell even more until the guy staring at her from on high almost fell out of the helicopter. She threw her head back to face the underside of the whirlybird and pushed out her thick, red lips. Then she exhaled. She had wondered if she possessed super-breath like Kate. She didn't. Kirsty's lungs were much bigger than Kate's. A whooshing sound accompanied the blast of air as it was channelled through Kirsty's lips to become a narrow jet. She'd planned to try and make the chopper spin a little to teach the perv inside a lesson. But the wind she generated was stronger than any extreme tropical hurricane. Many times stronger, in fact, than anything the craft had been designed to withstand.

The force of Kirsty's exhalation pushed the machine sideways faster than its maximum speed of forward travel. The pilot struggled to regain control but the unbelievably powerful and concentrated gust sent his craft into a rapid spinning roll, tumbling across the sky. The blood rushing from their heads to their feet and back again over and over proved too much for both the pilot and his machine-gun wielding passenger and they both lost consciousness. Moments later, the engine cut. The big, military, helicopter had been completely defeated by the blond girl's breath.

By the time Kirsty realised that she'd put too much into her puff, the chopper was nearly two hundred yards away from the spot it had occupied immediately over her head. She cut her blowing, realising to her surprise that she could have maintained it for quite a bit longer. She didn't even feel the need to draw air to replace the astronomical quantity she had exhaled. But the elation that came with another realisation of the incredible power she now possessed, was soon over as she watched the stricken helicopter plunge, nose-first, into the sea with a mighty splash. It had been blown out of the sky by a busty, topless model.

A few seconds later, it slipped beneath the waves. Although Kirsty scanned the surface for sometime, there was never any sign of the two men who had been inside the thing. She felt terrible. And angry. Angry with the guy who'd made her so angry with his ogling that she'd ended up killing him. She was so annoyed with him, she wanted to kill him again. She didn't question the logic of her train of thought. Kirsty's mind had its own, special way of working.

 

 

And then there was one

For the first time in years, Johnson was really scared. He was terrified. He'd watched in awe as what seemed like a million high-powered bullets had just bounced off the skin of the three girls. It didn't matter where they hit them. Even their tits were bullet-proof! It soon became clear that the incessant machine-gun fire wasn't even hurting them. But it wasn't until he saw the grapefruit-chested blond girl literally blowing the other remaining chopper into the sea, killing the two men on board in the process, that he began to fear for his own life.

His weapons were useless against these... these... chicks. That's what they were. Just three chicks. Who couldn't be stopped with automatic weapons. Who were capable of bringing down helicopters by throwing boulders at them or just exhaling towards them from the ground. Three young women who represented an incalculable threat. Suddenly, he knew he had a duty to get the hell out of there, to take the film from the chopper's on board camera back to base, to warn the world of what he had seen.

To his amazement, the order to withdraw was not coming. Command knew the situation; he'd personally relayed most of the information by radio himself. Why weren't they telling him to get out of there? Were they waiting for him and his pilot to suffer the same fate as their colleagues in the other two helicopters? And where was their ground support? Why hadn't they dispatched a couple of units to engage the hostile presence on the ground? Fuck it, he wasn't going to hang about any longer. He told his pilot to turn around and head back.

 

 

Strike three

Kate was having the time of her life. She'd hardly even noticed Kirsty's awesome demonstration of power, so engrossed was she in her own enjoyment. She was aware of the fact that there were a lot less bullets flying around now that two of the choppers had been downed, but so long as there was one left, she was satisfied. Kate had discovered the joy of being shot at with automatic weapons. She had watched in fascination as the bullets streaked towards her, and used her new abilities to stretch out the moment that each one hit her body.

She loved the way the deadly missiles would just crumple up against her silky skin. She adored the way that some parts of her, like her lips and her breasts seemed to give for an instant as the tips of the slugs pressed into them, only to immediately revert to their usual shapes, her body's naturally elasticity pushing the now mutilated bullets away. She treasured the sight of the bent, crushed and flattened bits of lead as they flew away from her, reminding her over and again that her very flesh was so much tougher than high-powered ammunition. Most of all, though, Kate enjoyed the way it felt every time a bullet hit her.

It felt best, she decided, when they hit her chest. It was liked being worshipped by a suppliant lover, only better. Carefully aligning herself with the incoming barrage, she'd watched in awe of herself as the hot lead had stripped her bikini from her piece by piece, the fabric shredding around her big, round breasts. She luxuriated in the wonderful glow that spread across her chest and grew each time another slug ploughed into her seemingly-soft, womanly flesh.

Soon, she had found herself lightly holding her mounds with two fingers of each hand underneath, lifting them both slightly, offering them towards the shooters in the sky, making sure they had an even bigger target to hit. The sensation of her dainty fingers making a far greater impression on her breasts than a thousand bullets had managed only increased her sense of overwhelming power and drove her to new heights of sexual arousal. She didn't think she'd ever had so much fun. Subconsciously licking her lips, Kate hoped the firing would last forever.

It didn't. In fact, it stopped as dramatically as it had started. One minute she was being deliciously caressed by what seemed an endless stream of bullets, the next... nothing. Snapping out of her reverie, she looked up at the sky to see why. She saw the last remaining helicopter beginning to turn around. Realising that it was retreating and that that would mean no more lovely lead, Kate acted without thinking. At lightening speed, she bent down and scooped up a handful of bent slugs that had bounced uselessly off her torso moments before.

She wanted to provoke the chopper crew into action and if she had figured anything at all, it was that if she fired at them, then they might be angered into firing back at her. She drew her arm back and hurled her fistful of spent bullets at the slowly turning aircraft. Kate's long, slender arm moved gracefully as she threw, her fingers releasing their cargo at the ideal moment. Her aim was perfect, but she misjudged the strength of her lob. She sent the little missiles back in the direction they had come from, but at several times their original speed.

The slugs, misshapen by their futile impacts against her invulnerable skin, were no longer aerodynamic. They spun awkwardly through the air as they soared towards their target, ripping huge, rough holes in the underside of the machine. They had been thrown so hard, that the metal casing of the helicopter failed to slow them and they tore another series of uneven openings in the internal floor. Still travelling at a phenomenal pace, the bits of lead ploughed vertical channels through the chopper's seats.

There was plenty of momentum left for them to continue their upward trajectory, eventually puncturing the roof, although by then many of them were splattered with the blood and gore of the three men they had carved right through. They were all dead long before they realised what had happened. They never understood that used bullets thrown from the dainty hand of a girl could prove infinitely more effective against men inside a metal helicopter than new slugs fired from the latest automatic weapons had been against that same unprotected, topless young woman.

From the ground, Kate watched, surprised at her own strength as the pilot slumped forward onto his controls. She hadn't meant to kill the men, but as the chopper went into a nose-dive, its engine whine getting ever louder, she knew there was no longer anything she could do about it. She stared at the stricken craft as it plummeted groundward. If only there was a way in which she could be shot at once more. If only she could rescue the guns before they were destroyed in the inevitable explosion...

Explosion! That gave her an idea. She looked up at the descending machine, instantly calculating where it was likely to crash. Her long legs carried her in seconds the three hundred yards to the spot. She arrived, slowing from supersonic speed to stationary in a single step, perfectly balanced, not evening breathing hard. She had plenty of time to watch the thing coming slowly towards her. This was going to be interesting.

The tall brunette girl stood straight, facing the helicopter that was careering down right at her. Her long arms hung by her side, her big, exposed breasts were defiantly thrust out as she waited. She made sure she was using her enhanced senses, determined to enjoy every tiny aspect of the experience. In the final seconds as the chopper filled her vision and the scream of its engines blocked out most of the other sounds around, Kate felt a thrill of anticipation like none she'd ever had before. This was going to be great.

The nose of the craft hit her first, striking her right on her chest. She watched as her generous breasts appeared to flatten for a moment, as if cushioning the impact. But then, the machine was pressed up against her underlying muscle, a substance which probably wouldn't yield to any force in the universe. The metal panelling of the craft began to crumple and fold around her bosoms and shoulders as she remained immobile. It felt like being gently hugged. Soon, her breasts resumed their usual perfect roundness, the seemingly soft flesh pushing back against the vast momentum of the helicopter, deforming its casing still further.

With a crack, the windshield shattered. The tiny pieces of glass showered her upper body but she didn't even feel them. She was absorbed in the sensation of more and more metal piling up against her body, pushing into her, the pressure increasing on her chest and now, her abdomen. There was no give there. The craft just folded like a concertina on her steely belly. It couldn't go forward as its momentum pushed it from behind, so it began to flatten, spreading over her body. It touched her crotch, the hot metal giving her a new raft of beautiful sensations.

A section of the overhead blade swung round, catching her in the side of the head. Something had to give and it was never going to be her head. A huge chunk snapped off the propeller, soaring through the air to land thirty feet away, partially embedded in a tree. The blow, enough to decapitate a man wearing a full suit of armour, felt more like a kiss to Kate. She looked down at the increasingly unrecognisable remains of the front of the chopper, now wadded up into a wall that carried a perfect impression of her stunning figure.

The hot, rough metal had long since reduced the bottom half of her bikini to threads. She was completely naked now, being embraced by the machine as it continued to fold around her. Something hard and sharp brushed the edge of her sex. Enough to cut a normal person in half, Kate sensed it as a lover's caress. She moaned in delight. No longer able to control herself she closed her eyes, preparing to lose herself in the unstoppable passion of the moment.

That was the instant that the helicopter's fuel tank was finally breached. There was hardly even time for any of the liquid inside to leak before the inevitable spark of metal on metal ignited it. Kate didn't even get to see the remainder of the machine become an enormous ball of fire. She did hear the whump! of the first explosion however and she luxuriated in the lovely feeling of warmth as she was enveloped by flames. Then, there was the secondary blast.

The force of the bang immediately blew what was left of the chopper into a million fragments. Red-hot, razor-sharp, lightning-fast chunks of metal flew in every conceivable direction but Kate was only interested in those that came her way. Her skin now heated to incandescence by the enormous energy of the explosion, she thrilled as each bit of shrapnel slammed against it, rebounding up to twenty feet from her invulnerable, tingling body.

One particularly rough piece flew like a supersonic missile into her generous cleavage, stroking both of her breasts simultaneously, getting trapped between them as it glowed with heat, sending a continuous stream of ecstasy through her entire being. Other bits cannoned of her face, hot passionate kisses that delighted her too. More brushed against the entrance to her vagina, like being endlessly teased to distraction by a master Casanova. The flames burnt on around her, generating a warmth that served only to intensify the beautiful sensations all over her body.

It was all too much. She threw her head back and screamed in her uncontrollable joy. Wave after wave of shuddering, explosive orgasms rolled through her being, carrying her beyond any extremes of sensation that she had ever dreamed possible. It seemed to last forever, the pleasure increasing and increasing, filling her mind with a brilliant light of pure rapture. It wasn't sexual. It was beyond that. It was indescribable. Tears streamed down her cheeks, vaporising to steam in the incredible heat. Then, she momentarily lost the ability to take it all in.

Kate recovered her senses and looked around. She was still standing. All around lay the charred remains of the chopper. A big chunk of twisted, blackened metal was still pressed up against her and a dozen small fires flickered. The glow of her skin was fading, her body taking on its normal tone once more as if nothing had happened. The air was thick with heavy dark smoke. She should have been choking, but she didn't even realise the fact. All she knew was that she had just been to heaven and she was only now making her way back down to Earth.

With one hand, she distractedly brushed the mess of burnt helicopter off her body, removing the heavy and still hot wreckage as easily as another girl would remove a scarf.

 

 

After the show

Kate strolled back to the beach where she found Kirsty and Caroline standing near the sleeping bodies of the men who'd been hit with tranquilliser darts. Kirsty had taken a T-shirt from one of them to cover herself with. It was so tight over the blond girl's huge breasts that, in terms of modesty, the overall effect was only a little better than remaining topless. Kate didn't need super-vision to see her companion's enormous nipples threatening to tear through the over-stretched fabric. It looked like the realisation of an horny adolescent boy's fantasy.

Caroline, meanwhile was still wearing her bikini. There were two huge black-lined holes in the fabric, revealing large areas of the immaculate flesh of the outside of her left breast and the underside of her other pert mound. Another obvious tear in the other half of the redhead's outfit left a significant patch of neat pubic hair visible, making it clear to any observer that her stunning hair colour was completely natural. The bullet that had suceeded in ripping her panties had failed to even singe her short hair and Caroline seemed unbothered by the involuntarily exhibitionism.

The sight of Kirsty's overfilled shirt and Caroline's partly exposed little garden reminded Kate that she herself was completely naked. Strolling over to the sleeping men, she bent over one, carefully lifting him by his armpit with one hand and pulling his T-shirt off with the other before letting go and watching him flop back down on his face. She repeated the process with his legs, tucking them under an arm whilst she cautiously dragged down his shorts. With extreme care so as not to tear the fabric, she worked herself into her new clothes.

The T-shirt was a good fit; a little tight over her breasts perhaps, but not as ridiculous as Kirsty's. When she tucked it into the brief, elasticised shorts, the outfit was rather flattering. Not that it was difficult to flatter a body like Kate's, but the result was enough to turn most male heads. If only there were any on the scene that weren't either unconscious or dead.

"So what are we going to do now?" Kirsty broke the silence.

"Anything we want. That's the point." replied Caroline.

"I.. don't know what I want!" the blonde exclaimed, exasperated.

Kate, still enjoying the afterglow of her wonderful experience, unthinkingly spoke her mind out loud. "I want to get shot and blown up again. All over...." her eyes misted over as she spoke.

"Well I'm going to show the world the new me!" Caroline announced, proudly turning her torso from side to side.

"You just want to hurt people." accused Kirsty.

"And what's wrong with that? I'm a superwoman, I can do whatever I like." Caroline retorted.

"You're sick." said the blond. "I'm going to the police to tell them what you - what we've done."

"Make sure you tell them exactly where to find me, then." Caroline smirked. "I'd love to test out my superpowers on some real men." A mischievous grin spread over her face.

Before Kirsty could register her disgust, Kate chimed in: "Hmm... tell them to bring their guns. I won't hurt them. Just as long as they try to hurt me."

"What's wrong with you two?" asked the blond girl, near the end of her tether.

"Shhh!" interrupted Caroline. "Listen!" The girls fell silent, their faces revealing their concentration. A normal person would have heard nothing, but Kirsty, Caroline and Kate were not normal people. All three of them could clearly hear the distant, but approaching, rumble of motor vehicles.

"Trucks!" announced Kate.

"Headed this way." added Caroline, excited.

"I'm not going to let you hurt any more people." warned Kirsty, reacting to the glint in Caroline's eyes.

"We'll see about that." the redhead said.

"I hope whoever's coming is armed..." muttered Kate.

 

Conceptfan, Mar. 2002.

Chapter 3

Authority

No-one was willing to be the first to break the silence. In truth, no-one had any idea what to say. They'd listened to the reports from the men in the choppers who'd been sent to investigate the extraterrestrial phenomenon. With increasing shock they'd learnt of the destruction of all three helicopters. Now they didn't know what to do. The original idea had been to bring everyone at the site back to HQ for tests. Tranquillizers had been employed to this end. It had since become clear that three of those present would not be going anywhere against their will and that tranquillizers - and even machine guns - were ineffective against them. These three now presented a clear public danger.

The men and women in the Emergency Control Room knew that three truck loads of heavily armed men were speeding towards the scene at that very moment. The agents in those vehicles were supposed to pick up the sleeping bodies, run tests on the area affected by the extraterrestrial phenomenon and bring back everything they could to the various secret laboratories that had been built for just such an occasion. The only problem was the three women who appeared to have suddenly gained superhuman abilities. Would they co-operate with the men? Or would they interfere with their work, perhaps even turning hostile as they seemed to have done moments before, causing the loss of three helicopters and their crews?

"I say get them the hell out of there before we have more information," a small thin man with glasses finally spoke up, "I mean, what's the point in sending a load of men to confront whatever destroyed the choppers?"

"We know what destroyed the choppers," snapped back a middle-aged blonde woman in a business suit. "Three young women destroyed the choppers. And how are we supposed to get any more information about who and what they are unless the men go in?"

"You could be sending them to their deaths!" shouted the first man, exasperatedly.

"We don't know that. We don't know how much of this is extra terrestrially influenced and how long the effects will last. We have to collect as much data as possible as quickly as possible. General, what do you think?" All eyes in the room focused on a broad, elderly man in fully military uniform, his short white hair combed perfectly in place.

"I'm deeply concerned that there might be a trio of entities down there capable of downing helicopters and invulnerable to automatic weapons fire. If that is the case, this is a serious threat to public order. I want the men in there now. I want to know if our assumptions about these three are true. And if they are, then I want them kept as busy as possible while we try and formulate a plan for dealing with them."

"So," the business-suited woman responded, "that's decided then. We let the trucks go in. Should we warn them to prepare?"

"Tell them to be on their toes," suggested the general, "but don't give them any specific data. I don't want them freaking out before they've even arrived on the scene."

"We don't know what we're dealing with here yet," said the thin man with glasses, "You might be sentencing those men to death. Can you live with that?"

"Easier than I can live with you." snarled the general.

 

Another argument.

"No way I'm going to let you smash up a truck with people in it!" Kirsty screeched at Caroline.

"You're gonna have to stop me the hard way, then." laughed the redhead.

"Who says I won't?" Kirsty retorted, trying to sound as defiant as possible.

"Come on then. Let's see you try!" taunted Caroline. The blonde girl took a step in the direction of her colleague, only to be distracted by the third member of the group.

"Hey! Stop it you two!" Kate interjected.

"Mind your own business." Caroline snarled.

"Why don't we just take a moment to work out what we're going to do with those tru-" began the tallest girl.

"-How many times?" interrupted Caroline angrily. "I do WHAT I want, WHEN I want and NOBODY can stop me. Understand? If I want to smash up a truck then I smash up a truck!"

"Caroline, don't!" pleaded Kirsty.

"Watch me." smirked the petite redhead. She turned on her bare heels and took off running in the general direction of the oncoming heavy vehicles. She wasn't sprinting nearly as fast as her maximum, but she moved so quickly that only the enhanced senses of her two colleagues allowed them to see her. If anyone else had been present - any "normal" person, that is - they would have seen nothing but the briefest of blurs.

"Oh no you don't!" Kirsty called after her even as she, too, became a smear of light, her long shapely legs propelling her after her colleague at a speed that would make a racing driver jealous. A few instants later, Kate followed suit, her even longer limbs allowing her to match the others' incredible pace with ease.

 

In a Drivers' Cab

Sam gripped the steering wheel and stared at the road ahead as he drove. Something was strange. It wasn't just that they'd got the order to drive three truckloads of guys and equipment out to the beach double-quick. They were a rapid response team after all. Their instructions made it clear enough what was expected of them - to pick up all sleeping civilians and take them and anything else they could move at the target site back to base. But if everyone at the site was unconscious, why had they been told to go heavily armed? Who or what was waiting for them by the sea?

Someone shouted through from the back of the truck that a fresh communication had been received from base. But the message contained nothing more than a vague instruction for them to be wary. Why did they have to be wary of a bunch of tranquillized citizens?  There was definitely more to this mission than they were being told. Or maybe, he thought, they were as unsure of things back at the base as he was out here, speeding down the road towards the beach. He narrowed his eyes, staring at the back of the truck in front of him. One thing he was sure of. At the speed they were traveling, one little error and they might be spinning off the road. Sam didn't want to be responsible for that.

He almost did lose control of the vehicle a moment later when his earpiece crackled frantically into life. The voice that shouted into his ear was panicked. "Incoming! Three objects coming head on! They're moving incredibly fast. Evasive action! Take evasive action now!" The words were still pounding into his eardrum as he slammed his foot on the brakes, violently turning the wheel as he did so. Years of experience served him well as he kept the vehicle from turning over as he steered it off the road. Fortunately, the ground by the side of the highway was more or less flat and largely treeless. He heard the men being thrown around in the back as he drove over the unprepared surface. What was going on? Who the hell was firing at them?

 

Unplanned Truck Stop

"Stop her!" Kirsty yelled at Kate. She could see that the tall brunette was outpacing her and would soon catch up with Caroline. But Kate didn't seem to be listening. She could easily have caught up with the redhead, but chose instead to veer off the path they were following, clearly too busy with her own agenda to help Kirsty out with hers. The blonde swallowed and sped up her run. It was up to her alone to stop Caroline from hurting any more innocent people. On the horizon, she could see the front of a truck, heading towards them. She didn't realize just how amazing it was for her to be able to see the vehicle from a distance of several miles away.

Caroline had seen it too. Kirsty watched as the red-haired girl spread her arms wide as she ran towards the onrushing lorry, as if she were about to hug a long lost relative. The blonde knew that her companion was planning something a lot more violent that a mere warm embrace and she knew that she stood little chance of stopping her, even though she was now sprinting for all she was worth, her huge chest bouncing furiously under the over-tight material of the T-shirt she'd taken from one of the sleeping men. She had to stop Caroline. She had to think of something. Fast.

Thinking at any speed was not Kirsty's forte. Nevertheless, she did manage to pick up a fist sized rock from the ground at her feet and throw it with all her strength at the figure running ahead of her. The speed of Kirsty's sprint was added to the unbelievable strength of her delicate wrist to send the rock shooting from her hand at many times the speed of sound. The friction of the air it rocketed through quickly heated the chunk of stone to incandescence before it hit its target, exploding in a shower of dust-sized particles as it impacted with Caroline's cute, round behind. The collision reduced the rock to nothingness, but not before it had torn a large hole in her bikini, revealing a patch of flawless, untouched left buttock.

The crude missile clearly didn't hurt Caroline, but it did make her stop running for a moment and turn around to face her attacker. Behind her the front of the approaching truck loomed ever larger. Seizing the chance, Kirsty launched herself at the shorter girl, reaching out for her as she flew through the air. And how she flew! It wasn't just the fact that she'd been running at almost two hundred miles an hour when she had left the ground. And it wasn't merely because the muscles in her legs which she used to propel herself forwards were now superhuman. Nor was it purely down to the huge amounts of adrenaline flowing in her veins. Rather, it was a combination of all three factors.

Kirsty soared off the ground, her momentum carrying her, helplessly, over Caroline's head. The redhead watched her former colleague with an amused expression on her beautiful features, the sun glinting off her copper hair as she turned to follow the other girl's trajectory. "Ssshhhiiitttt!" yelled the blonde as she realized she had no control whatsoever over her flight, her arms flailing uselessly in the air. Once again, she had vastly underestimated her own strength. She saw the ground rushing by beneath her and understood that she was, slowly, getting closer and closer to Earth.

But she was also getting closer and closer to the truck. She looked up mid-flight and knew with a sickening sensation in her stomach that she was on a collision course with the front grill. She waved her hands desperately at the driver, trying to make him see her and steer out of the way. But he didn't seem to respond. She stared at him as she arced ever nearer. He hardly appeared to be moving at all. Then she noticed a look of shock spreading incredibly slowly across his face. It was as if he was operating in slow motion. Of course, he wasn't. He was reacting at normal human speed; it just looked like slow motion to Kirsty's superhumanly quick mind. In truth, it made no difference if he was slow or she was fast. She couldn't steer herself and he couldn't respond quickly enough.

The truck driver's hands were barely lifting from the steering wheel in front of him to instinctively cover his face. Through his mind flashed a series of terrifying images of the girl - who was flying towards him at an unbelievable velocity as if she'd been shot from a cannon - dissolving into a crimson mess as her body slammed into his truck. His foot finally made it to the brake pedal, the huge vehicle only then beginning to decelerate from its top speed, far too little, far too late. In the last moments before the unavoidable impact, he closed his eyes - not for protection from physical harm, but to shield his mind from the horrible vision he was certain would follow.

That final instant seemed to last forever to Kirsty. She filled it with the nauseating thought of what might happen to the truck and the people in it when she smashed into it. She knew enough now about the remarkable nature of her new gifts to appreciate that she herself was in no danger. No speeding heavy transport vehicle posed a threat to her physical perfection. Her large, bright eyes remained wide open as the gap between her body and the truck disappeared, her morbid curiosity forcing her to watch, to see how many people she would hurt. Fifty yards behind her, Caroline stood also watching, her hands on her hips, a malicious smirk on her stunning face. "This is gonna be great!" she smiled to herself.

It was Kirsty's chest that hit first. In the initial nanosecond of impact, the overworked cheap thin material of her borrowed T-shirt fell to shreds, trapped between twenty tons of onrushing metal and the impossibly firm, round bosom of a superhuman girl. During the next instants, her now exposed breasts seemed to be yielding to the enormous momentum of the truck; the huge mounds flattening very slightly against the thick chrome grill. But those instants were soon over. The natural elasticity of her chest immediately became the dominant force in the contest, her unworldly muscles pushing her breasts outwards, restoring their usual fully rounded femininity, effortlessly pushing aside or crushing anything - sheet steel, thick solid chrome - that stood in their way.

Her bosom had already carved a deep channel into the front of the truck as her chin, then her face and then the rest of her slammed against the poor vehicle. The other parts of the beautiful young blonde's proved far less "soft" than her chest and the metal folded, bent, yielded and tore - whatever it had to do to accommodate her. As she ploughed into the engine block, feeling nothing more than a human would feel walking into a wet cardboard box, the motor's racket ceased and was replaced by the sound of tortured, crushed steel. Metal began to pile up around her as the windshield exploded, showering her with shards of glass that reminded her of the lightest of drizzles falling on her head.

Inside the cab of the truck, a few fragments of that glass buried themselves in the soft flesh of the driver. They didn't hurt him; the life had long since been jolted and crushed from his fragile body. The dashboard in front of his corpse snapped in two as the metal beneath it concertina'd against the girl's sexy body.  The destruction was happening more slowly now as the tremendous force of the initial impact was finally spent, but there was still enough left to enclose the dead driver in a steel tomb. Metal creaked and groaned as the last few units of the truck's - and the girl's - momentum were used up. A sharp piece of steel plate came suddenly loose and flew, spinning, into Kirsty's face. It struck her across the mouth, deforming dramatically against her invulnerable, pouting lips before pinging uselessly away to land on the ground thirty yards away.

The sudden ending of the vehicle's forward motion threw the ten men in the back violently from their benches to pile in a helpless heap on the floor. As they slammed into one another, some of the men were knocked unconscious. A couple of heads collided full-on, instantly killing their owners. Someone's gun went off in the confusion, the bullet piercing the thin metal underfoot, creating a tiny spark of lead striking steel just as it pierced the vehicle's huge fuel tank. What happened next was as inevitable as it was quick. None of the men in there ever knew what happened.

Kirsty was just adjusting to the fact that neither she nor the truck were moving anymore. She knew she had destroyed the front of the vehicle with her body, killing its driver in the process. But at least the destruction was over now. The tremendous noise of collapsing machine had been superceded by near-silence. She was back on her feet once more, on solid ground, although she was leaning forward at an unnatural angle, her body buried from the knees upwards in wreckage. She was just about to climb out of the mangled mess when the quiet was broken by a loud "wumpf!".

With her super-speed, Kirsty could see the first flames of the explosion reaching skywards for a few moments. Then came the blast. The fuel tank and the truck all around it were torn into a million pieces and thrown in every direction like lava from an erupting volcano. Big sheets of paneling and razor-sharp red-hot chunks of twisted metal - more than enough to destroy a high brick wall - whacked into Kirsty's naked body, bouncing re-shaped off her perfect flesh having caused her no harm or discomfort.

After that, the smashed truck and the blonde girl and everything for twenty yards around them became engulfed in a spherical red and yellow cloud of flame. The phenomenal heat instantly warmed everything it touched to thousands of degrees. The truck's steel frame softened and sagged. Some of the thinner metal boiled. The tires evaporated to nothingness. The bodies of the men inside were reduced to nothing more than blackened bones in the intense heat. Kirsty's bikini bottoms became ash, leaving her completely naked in the fire.

Meanwhile the soft, smooth skin of the girl absorbed the fantastic temperatures, the flames licking harmlessly over her flawlessness, failing to singe even so much as a single hair. She found that the sensation of being heated to the boiling point of iron felt similar to the feel of a pleasantly warm bath. But any enjoyment of the feeling was immediately cut short as Kirsty's superhuman eyes pierced the flames and smoke to reveal the sight of charred pieces of skeleton in what had been the back of the truck. "No!" she cried "Oh no! No!" Apart from the crackling of the fire and the distant sound of the engines of other trucks, the only other response was Caroline's cruel laughter.

 

Back in the cab

Sam heard the explosion and knew immediately that one of the other trucks had been hit. A fraction of a second later, a large chunk of the destroyed vehicle's grill fell seemingly out of the sky to land just yards to the side of where he was sitting. He shuddered at the thought of the men who'd been in that truck and thanked his God that he hadn't been driving the front vehicle. Behind him, the men had regained their seats and were debating what kind of weapon might have taken out their colleagues. The general consensus was that it was some kind of missile. But their briefing had concerned the picking up of civilians, not coming under lethal missile fire.

"So, what now?" Sam asked Bower, his unit commander, as the older man thrust his head through the window that connected the back of the truck with the driver's cab.

"New orders." replied the commander, never a man to use two words when half a syllable would suffice. "We're to locate, engage and neutralize the hostile party." Bower paused for a moment and Sam noticed his superior's tiny, deep set eyes glancing briefly through the windshield at the smoking chunk of destroyed truck that lat on the sand some ten yards away. "We'll proceed on foot. Cut the engine." Then, over his shoulder in a much louder voice he barked "Everybody out." There was the familiar sound of men shuffling their way out the back of the truck as Sam opened the door by his side and clambered down to join the others. Bower was already issuing orders.

"Spread out and head towards the beach. Keep in constant radio contact. Don't fire unless you come under attack. Remember, men, there's a lot of civilians around. I don't want to be making any awkward explanations later. OK - Go!" Thirteen armed, uniformed men instantly set off back towards the road.

 

Hammer-time

The sound of Caroline's laughter brought Kirsty back to reality from the warm world of licking flames. Realization dawned slowly and harshly. She'd been trying to stop Caroline from attacking the truck and hurting the people in it and she'd ended up completely destroying it herself. Whoever had been in there must've been killed instantly. She could see charred human remains everywhere. And it was her fault... Or was it? If she hadn't been chasing Caroline, then she never would have accidentally smashed into the vehicle, causing the terrible explosion. So.. it was the redhead's fault. That was why she was laughing now. The now naked blonde girl turned sharply to face the redhead.

"You bitch!" she screamed. "You made me.. kill all those people."

"Aw, it's no big deal," Caroline smiled, "they were only men."

"You monster!" Kirsty's face turned red. Without pausing she leapt at the object of her disgust, her shapely legs propelling her easily to cover the twenty yards in a single bound. She landed with her bare feet flat on the crown of Caroline's head before the red-haired girl could even react. The irresistible force of Kirsty's jump met the indestructible form of Caroline's shapely body. Something had to give. It turned out to be the rocky ground. The redhead was driven downwards like a nail into a block of wood. Beneath her delicate feet, the stone cracked and crumbled like so much ancient parchment until Kirsty was standing almost at ground level and Caroline was buried up to her forehead.

From somewhere below, Kirsty heard the muffled sound of a moan. She took it as encouragement and began to jump up and down on the tiny circle of red hair visible beneath her feet, each crash of bare feet on head pushing Caroline deeper and deeper into the rock and producing an increasingly weak groan. Kirsty channeled all her anger into pounding Caroline's head. Her body moved with many times the speed and hundreds of times the force of a pneumatic drill, her huge, bared chest bouncing so quickly it would have been impossible for a human to see it.

Suddenly, the blonde noticed that she was standing in a narrow vertical shaft, looking up at twenty yards of sheer freshly carved stone with a tiny disc of sky at the top. There was no movement beneath her and no more moaning. A gentle leap carried her back up to the ground above. She peered down into the new hole and the top of Caroline's motionless head so far below.. Tears welled in her pretty, big blue eyes. What had she done?

Kirsty looked around. All she could see was the signs of the damage she had caused. The burnt out remains of the exploded truck and the charcoal skeletons of its occupants. The deep shaft in the rock by her feet. Nothing moved but a few remaining licks of fire here and there and a column of thick black smoke. She couldn't bare to look at it any longer. She had to get away. Somewhere where she couldn't do any more harm. She had to find a way of getting rid of this terrible curse that had been placed on her. These so-called super-powers that had caused her to kill and kill and kill...

Without thinking about where she was going, she started to run. Her slender legs would have been a blur to human eyes had any human on the scene been alive to see them. Her own eyes were full of tears as she streaked across the countryside, traveling effortlessly at speeds three or four times greater than the truck she had demolished. The distance between her and the sea grew rapidly as she continued to run, her only aim being to get as far away from the carnage - the bodies, the burnt truck and the crashed helicopter as she possibly could. What had she done? And what was she going to do now?

 

Meanwhile, back at the beach

The orders had changed, but not the men's obedience. Once they'd come under fire - no-one was quite sure from what exactly - the two surviving trucks had left the road, heading in different directions. One group, under Lieutenant Bower, had been assigned the task of locating the hostile party on foot. The crew of the other truck was told to hold its position and await further instructions. They were supposed to remain in their vehicle in case they needed to drive off at short notice. So two sets of men sat nervously on their uncomfortable wooden seats, examining their weapons and exchanging worried glances.

At the same time, the Bower's team had fanned out in a curved line that was moving slowly towards the beach. From time to time, their radios crackled with a brief report from some part of the line - "This is Frost and Davy. Nothing here." or "Gotti here. All quiet." Sometimes the commander himself spoke. "This is Bower. Keep going, men." They continued in this manner for about ten minutes but no-one in the team found any sign of a missile-launcher or the people who must have operated it. There were beginning to suspect that the search was a waste of time when there was a communication from two men on the flank of the unit: "Vaughn and Rubin here. There's an unknown individual up ahead. Repeat: We have spotted an unknown individual."

"Got that, men." Bower's answer was immediate. "Hold your position. Everybody else move north - now. Rendezvous with Vaughn and Rubin A.S.A.P." All along the stretched-out line of pairs of men the new instruction was instantly obeyed and the unit gathered together. Once they were all assembled, their commander reminded them of the presence of civilians in the area. They were not to fire until they were absolutely certain that they were facing a hostile force: "Keep your weapons down and stay together. Let's go." Slowly, they approached the human-shaped dot on the hori.. it was the redhead's fault. That was why she was laughing now. The now naked blonde girl turned sharply to face the redhead.

"You bitch!" she screamed. "You made me.. kill all those people."

"Aw, it's no big deal," Caroline smiled, "they were only men."

"You monster!" Kirsty's face turned red. Without pausing she leapt at the object of her disgust, her shapely legs propelling her easily to cover the twenty yards in a single bound. She landed with her bare feet flat on the crown of Caroline's head before the red-haired girl could even react. The irresistible force of Kirsty's jump met the indestructible form of Caroline's shapely body. Something had to give. It turned out to be the rocky ground. The redhead was driven downwards like a nail into a block of wood. Beneath her delicate feet, the stone cracked and crumbled like so much ancient parchment until Kirsty was standing almost at ground level and Caroline was buried up to her forehead.

From somewhere below, Kirsty heard the muffled sound of a moan. She took it as encouragement and began to jump up and down on the tiny circle of red hair visible beneath her feet, each crash of bare feet on head pushing Caroline deeper and deeper into the rock and producing an increasingly weak groan. Kirsty channeled all her anger into pounding Caroline's head. Her body moved with many times the speed and hundreds of times the force of a pneumatic drill, her huge, bared chest bouncing so quickly it would have been impossible for a human to see it.

Suddenly, the blonde noticed that she was standing in a narrow vertical shaft, looking up at twenty yards of sheer freshly carved stone with a tiny disc of sky at the top. There was no movement beneath her and no more moaning. A gentle leap carried her back up to the ground above. She peered down into the new hole and the top of Caroline's motionless head so far below.. Tears welled in her pretty, big blue eyes. What had she done?

Kirsty looked around. All she could see was the signs of the damage she had caused. The burnt out remains of the exploded truck and the charcoal skeletons of its occupants. The deep shaft in the rock by her feet. Nothing moved but a few remaining licks of fire here and there and a column of thick black smoke. She couldn't bare to look at it any longer. She had to get away. Somewhere where she couldn't do any more harm. She had to find a way of getting rid of this terrible curse that had been placed on her. These so-called super-powers that had caused her to kill and kill and kill...

Without thinking about where she was going, she started to run. Her slender legs would have been a blur to human eyes had any human on the scene been alive to see them. Her own eyes were full of tears as she streaked across the countryside, traveling effortlessly at speeds three or four times greater than the truck she had demolished. The distance between her and the sea grew rapidly as she continued to run, her only aim being to get as far away from the carnage - the bodies, the burnt truck and the crashed helicopter as she possibly could. What had she done? And what was she going to do now?

 

Meanwhile, back at the beach

The orders had changed, but not the men's obedience. Once they'd come under fire - no-one was quite sure from what exactly - the two surviving trucks had left the road, heading in different directions. One group, under Lieutenant Bower, had been assigned the task of locating the hostile party on foot. The crew of the other truck was told to hold its position and await further instructions. They were supposed to remain in their vehicle in case they needed to drive off at short notice. So two sets of men sat nervously on their uncomfortable wooden seats, examining their weapons and exchanging worried glances.

At the same time, the Bower's team had fanned out in a curved line that was moving slowly towards the beach. From time to time, their radios crackled with a brief report from some part of the line - "This is Frost and Davy. Nothing here." or "Gotti here. All quiet." Sometimes the commander himself spoke. "This is Bower. Keep going, men." They continued in this manner for about ten minutes but no-one in the team found any sign of a missile-launcher or the people who must have operated it. There were beginning to suspect that the search was a waste of time when there was a communication from two men on the flank of the unit: "Vaughn and Rubin here. There's an unknown individual up ahead. Repeat: We have spotted an unknown individual."

"Got that, men." Bower's answer was immediate. "Hold your position. Everybody else move north - now. Rendezvous with Vaughn and Rubin A.S.A.P." All along the stretched-out line of pairs of men the new instruction was instantly obeyed and the unit gathered together. Once they were all assembled, their commander reminded them of the presence of civilians in the area. They were not to fire until they were absolutely certain that they were facing a hostile force: "Keep your weapons down and stay together. Let's go." Slowly, they approached the human-shaped dot on the horizon.

 

Shooting pleasures

Kate's face lit up with pure joy as her superhuman eyes spotted the group of thirteen men coming together in the distance. Her new powers of vision even enabled her to "zoom in" on them and spot - to her utter delight - the weapons they were all carrying. It was all she could do not to jump for joy. She certainly hadn't forgotten how wonderful it had felt to be shot at. With her invulnerable body, bullets felt like caresses, especially when they touched certain parts of her. But it was more than that - it was the thought that deadly ammunition couldn't do any more to her than give her a gentle massage. That idea added to the nice feeling of high-powered lead stroking her flesh and gave her a sexual thrill that no man had ever managed.

Like an excited child, Kate began jogging towards the advancing party of men, only coming to a halt when she was about fifteen yards away from them, smiling broadly as she noticed the way the men were staring at her. In particular, she observed, they were staring at the curve of her breasts under her newly-borrowed tight T-shirt. "Men!" she thought, amused by their predictability. She decided to acknowledge their typical masculine obsession. Pouting, she used her sexiest voice as she asked: "Hello, boys. Are those machine guns you're carrying, or are you all just pleased to see me?" She leant forward a little as she finished, thrusting her impressive chest towards them.

"Er... You shouldn't be here ma'am," said the one who was obviously in charge, "it's dangerous."

"Oh, I hope so." Kate replied.

"Ma'am, we're going to have to take you to safety immediately."

"If I refuse, will you shoot me with your lovely, big guns?" the brunette asked, coquettishly, making the phrase "lovely, big guns" sound as erotic as she could.

"Ma'am, this is not a joke." The speaker turned slightly to address the other men who had not taken their eyes off her for a second throughout the brief exchange. "Vauhgn, Rubin - take her back to the truck. The rest of you spread out again and continue on to the beach." Two of the men began walking towards her as the rest moved away.

"Come with us, please." the taller of the two requested, firmly as soon as they were close enough.

"No," replied Kate, pouting provocatively, "are you going to shoot me?" The man who had made the invitation looked confused for a moment, but his pal seemed to be more certain of what to do. He took another couple of steps until he was standing right next to her and then reached out, wrapping the rough, hairy fingers of one of his big hands around her contrastingly smooth, slender upper arm. She made no move to stop him in any way, simply remaining rooted to the spot when he tugged at her, trying to pull her towards where he'd been ordered to take her. It took no effort on her part - staying put despite his increasingly dramatic attempts to yank her towards him just seemed to come naturally to her.

The guy's brow wrinkled in concentration and then his eyes grew huge in surprise as he found that, no matter how hard he tried, he could not budge her slim arm so much as a fraction of an inch, let alone pull her off her feet. She smiled sweetly at him as sweat began to appear on his forehead, a direct result of his futile straining. His friend joined in and the top half of her arm disappeared beneath more tough-looking masculine flesh. It didn't make any different, of course, and Kate remained utterly immobile. The two men looked at each other, each hoping his colleague would come up with a solution to their bizarre predicament. Instead it was the girl who took charge.

With her free hand, Kate snatched the gun from one of the pair's left fists. He yelped in surprise and pain. That was the only indication she got that he'd been holding onto it quite tightly - she'd pulled it from his grasp with as little effort as if he'd held it out on his open palm for her. Immediately, both guys let go of her arm and put their hands on the barrel of the weapon, trying desperately to prize it out of her grip. They might as well have been trying to pull the sun out of the sky. They never stood a chance. In fact, the tall brunette was too absorbed in the butt of the weapon to even notice the men tugging furiously at the other end of it for a while. Eventually she did look up. "How does this thing work, then?" she asked, her voice dripping innocence.

"Let go immediately!" shouted one of the two men.

"Only if you promise to use it on me." said Kate. The only response this provoked was from the one who was still holding his own gun. He pointed it at the center of her exquisite face and hissed "Take your hand off the weapon NOW!"

"Oooh! Another one!" said Kate, snatching the second gun from him and turning it over in her hand as she studied it.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" exclaimed one of the two men. The brunette ignored him, adjusting her grip so that she was holding one gun in each hand, with a foot-long barrels pointed at each of her prominent nipples. They became even more prominent as she thought of the sensation she was about to experience.

"You boys had better stand back," Kate said, slightly patronizingly, "you're only men - you might get hurt."

"Wha-?" said the one who had blasphemed earlier.

"I said stand back." she repeated. Neither man moved. "OK - I'll do it for you." she said, smiling. She winked and pushed out her lips as if about to give one of them a kiss on the forehead. Instead she just exhaled very gently, like a "normal" person would exhale to put out a candle. That casual little puff generated enough force to lift both big men off their feet and throw them backwards through the air to land on their rears on the sandy ground twenty yards away. Too stunned - not to mention bruised - to move, they remained exactly where they were and just stared, disbelieving, as Kate slowly squeezed the triggers on the two weapons.

For a second, nothing happened. As a glamour model, she'd never even seen an Uzi sub-machine gun before, let alone used one. She had no idea about safety-catches. She just thought that the triggers were a little stiff, so she squeezed a little harder. She didn't see the guns deforming slightly in her palms. By the time she noticed what she was doing, the magazine of each weapon exploded in her grip. It felt a little warm to her palms, but not much more. However, the chunks of shrapnel that escaped her fists and struck her body were a delicious reminder of the joys of being shot. The razor-sharp torn edge of a particular large chunk of one gun struck her squarely on the lip, sending a tingle through her body as though she'd been kissed. Another lump rebounded off her flat stomach giving her more pleasure.

Surprised, and disappointed with the brevity of the weapons' usefulness, she dropped what was left of them to the ground. There wasn't even a red mark on either of her flawless hands. The two men sitting on the sand stared, their jaws hanging open, paralyzed in shock. Meanwhile, the rest of their unit, having heard the twin explosion that she'd so easily contained in her palms, came running back to investigate. Kate turned to face them, her now empty hands coming to rest on her curvaceous hips. As the men came puffing towards her she called out to them. "Now are you going to shoot me?"

One by one, the on-rushing men dropped down to their stomachs, their guns pointed straight at her. The two weaponless guys finally snapped out of their shared stupor and began moving in a wide circle to join their colleagues. Still, no-one fired at her. Exasperated now, Kate ran towards the isolated pair. To the men lining her up in their sights, she was just a blur until she stopped moving. Then there was a collective gasp. She was standing between the two guys with one hand on the back of each one's neck and she was grinning. The reason for the big gasp, however, was the fact that her slender arms were fully stretched above her head. She was holding the two men a foot above the ground as though they were made of paper not flesh, blood and bone.

She waited just long enough for all the armed men to see what she was doing before casually tossing both of her prisoners over her shoulders, rather like a non-super girl would throw a handful of salt for luck. She was careful not to put too much into her throws - she only wanted to provoke the others into shooting her. She didn't want to kill these two. Nonetheless, they flew in two graceful, parallel arcs to crash down nearly thirty yards away. She wasn't looking, but neither of them moved. She wasn't listening either.  If she had done, she would not have heard the noise of breathing or a the pounding of a heartbeat coming from either of them.

She soon forgot the two men entirely, as her latest demonstration of super-powers finally had the effect she had longed for. There was a cry of "Open fire!" from the one who'd first spoken to her and then a succession of flashes of light appeared at the end of the dozen guns pointed at her. These were followed by a beautiful stream of shiny pointed bullets all converging on her face and body. Her beautiful face became even more illuminated than usual by a smile of pure joy that revealed two sets of gleaming, perfect teeth. At last! she thought, leaning forward to greet the on-coming barrage and thrusting her magnificent breasts defiantly towards her attackers.

Kate's whole being seemed to explode with pleasure as the first slugs slammed into her body. In the tiniest fraction of a second the supposedly deadly barrage tore through the clothes she had taken, the thin fabrics useless in the face of supersonic hot lead. Rapidly, more and more of her flawless, intimate flesh was exposed until just a few strips of material were left hanging from her body. She didn't mind. Her eyes were closed as she concentrated all her senses on the task of deriding maximum enjoyment from every single impact against her lovely skin.

A stream of bullets stroked her face - such a delicate and warm caress - like the fingers of some Casanova. Those hot metal fingers were everywhere, massaging the front of her shoulders, playing up and down her washboard belly and gently touching her crotch with erratic, erotic expertise. She had found it delightful to be shot at from an overhead helicopter by a pair of machine-gunners. Now she was under fire from a dozen men, all at ground level, facing her from a fraction of the distance. For Kate at that moment, paradise became a very real, very attainable prospect.

At any given instant, six or seven slugs would be simultaneously pinging against her perfect smooth skin. Six or seven others would be flying away from her, battered and deformed against her invulnerable perfection. Six or seven more would be hurtling in the other direction, just about to slam into her and generate yet another series of pleasure-ripples within her. Subconsciously, her luscious lips parted slightly as she lost herself in the feeling. This meant a further sensation was added to the mix - the feel of bullets rebounding against her harder-than-steel teeth. It reminded Kate of the touch of a lover's tongue.

Soon, there was nothing left of the clothes she had been wearing. Her increasingly exposed flesh distracted the men shooting at her, drawing their eyes and consequently, their aim. As a result, a disproportionate number of slugs hit her in the chest region. She wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Kate felt as though her large, firm breasts had developed precisely for this purpose; to dimple minutely and then recover their immaculate roundness as each little projectile crashed into them, ricocheting away at an infinite variety of angles. Some would even deflect off one mound only to impact with the other, giving her double the enjoyment.

It was an awesome thought for her. Any one of these little missiles could have killed a man. Yet when they hit her, she felt only... stimulation. It made her realize just how powerful she now was. It was like being a goddess. That thought only made her hornier still. It was all so... sexy!  Every one of the tens of thousands of slugs that hit her bosom left a wonderful tingling feeling that spread outwards long after the next one hit generating yet another tingle. Quickly, the sensation built until it became one huge tremor of pleasure deep within her. With a moan of delight, Kate surrendered herself to a seemingly never ending orgasm.

The men facing her could not stop firing. To a man, they were struck by the incredible sight of this beautiful, naked girl standing happily despite being directly in the line of fire of a dozen machine weapons. They stared, shocked perhaps, at the countless slugs that bounced off her fabulous breasts to land amongst the growing piles of spent lead all around her. In awe they stared at the girl who seemed to have no problem with letting her tits get shot a hundred times a second.   More than that, it actually seemed to turn her on.  She seemed to be getting more and more worked up.  They should have known what would happen, but they were totally unprepared for it when it did.

It wouldn't have made much difference if the men had been prepared. The impossible level of Kate's yell would have burst their eardrums even if they'd covered their ears. In the end, their suffering did not last as long as the naked brunette's passionate cry. The sheer volume of the air vibration she absent-mindedly generated with her diaphragm, her lungs and her vocal chords shook their fragile bodies more violently than the fiercest earthquake, shattering bones and bursting organs. Inside three seconds, the slim young woman had killed a eleven men with nothing but her voice. And she wasn't even aware of what had happened until a full minute later as she came down off the peak of her orgasm and noticed that the men had stopped shooting...

 

Down in the ground

Hurt. Hurt bad. Ached as if she'd just woken up after a three day tequila and cheap red wine binge. And throbbed. Like her brain had been wired up to the national electricity supply. It was dark... and then almost instantly it wasn't. Suddenly she could see - newly smashed rock all around her, encircling her. And rock beneath her feet too. She looked up and saw sunlight and, in that nanosecond, remembered everything. Kirsty jumping on her and then hammering her into the ground - into this narrow shaft she found herself in. The pain in her head was beginning to diminish but it was still strong.

"That stupid, fucking bimbo!" Caroline cursed out loud, furious with the blonde who'd caused the hurting - one of only two people on the planet capable now of doing her any kind of even temporary harm. She was angry with herself, too, for letting someone like that get the better of her. Someone whom she considered - correctly - to possess about half her intelligence. The more she thought about it the angrier she got. She would have to teach Kirsty a lesson now. She bent her knees a little and sprung upwards, her shapely legs pushing her up off the ground like a missile launch. In the blink of an eye she traveled the twenty yards up to the sandy ground, rising a further thirty yards before finally slowing and coming back under gravity's power.

The petite red-haired girl landed on her dainty bare feet just next to the hole her body had drilled in the rocky ground. Her knees bent to minimize the tremendous impact, and her superhuman body absorbed the shock so well that hardly half an inch of hard stone was ground to dust under her perfect soles. She didn't waste any time congratulating herself on her athletic prowess, however. Instead she scanned the horizon for any sign of Kirsty, eager zon.

 

Shooting pleasures

Kate's face lit up with pure joy as her superhuman eyes spotted the group of thirteen men coming together in the distance. Her new powers of vision even enabled her to "zoom in" on them and spot - to her utter delight - the weapons they were all carrying. It was all she could do not to jump for joy. She certainly hadn't forgotten how wonderful it had felt to be shot at. With her invulnerable body, bullets felt like caresses, especially when they touched certain parts of her. But it was more than that - it was the thought that deadly ammunition couldn't do any more to her than give her a gentle massage. That idea added to the nice feeling of high-powered lead stroking her flesh and gave her a sexual thrill that no man had ever managed.

Like an excited child, Kate began jogging towards the advancing party of men, only coming to a halt when she was about fifteen yards away from them, smiling broadly as she noticed the way the men were staring at her. In particular, she observed, they were staring at the curve of her breasts under her newly-borrowed tight T-shirt. "Men!" she thought, amused by their predictability. She decided to acknowledge their typical masculine obsession. Pouting, she used her sexiest voice as she asked: "Hello, boys. Are those machine guns you're carrying, or are you all just pleased to see me?" She leant forward a little as she finished, thrusting her impressive chest towards them.

"Er... You shouldn't be here ma'am," said the one who was obviously in charge, "it's dangerous."

"Oh, I hope so." Kate replied.

"Ma'am, we're going to have to take you to safety immediately."

"If I refuse, will you shoot me with your lovely, big guns?" the brunette asked, coquettishly, making the phrase "lovely, big guns" sound as erotic as she could.

"Ma'am, this is not a joke." The speaker turned slightly to address the other men who had not taken their eyes off her for a second throughout the brief exchange. "Vauhgn, Rubin - take her back to the truck. The rest of you spread out again and continue on to the beach." Two of the men began walking towards her as the rest moved away.

"Come with us, please." the taller of the two requested, firmly as soon as they were close enough.

"No," replied Kate, pouting provocatively, "are you going to shoot me?" The man who had made the invitation looked confused for a moment, but his pal seemed to be more certain of what to do. He took another couple of steps until he was standing right next to her and then reached out, wrapping the rough, hairy fingers of one of his big hands around her contrastingly smooth, slender upper arm. She made no move to stop him in any way, simply remaining rooted to the spot when he tugged at her, trying to pull her towards where he'd been ordered to take her. It took no effort on her part - staying put despite his increasingly dramatic attempts to yank her towards him just seemed to come naturally to her.

The guy's brow wrinkled in concentration and then his eyes grew huge in surprise as he found that, no matter how hard he tried, he could not budge her slim arm so much as a fraction of an inch, let alone pull her off her feet. She smiled sweetly at him as sweat began to appear on his forehead, a direct result of his futile straining. His friend joined in and the top half of her arm disappeared beneath more tough-looking masculine flesh. It didn't make any different, of course, and Kate remained utterly immobile. The two men looked at each other, each hoping his colleague would come up with a solution to their bizarre predicament. Instead it was the girl who took charge.

With her free hand, Kate snatched the gun from one of the pair's left fists. He yelped in surprise and pain. That was the only indication she got that he'd been holding onto it quite tightly - she'd pulled it from his grasp with as little effort as if he'd held it out on his open palm for her. Immediately, both guys let go of her arm and put their hands on the barrel of the weapon, trying desperately to prize it out of her grip. They might as well have been trying to pull the sun out of the sky. They never stood a chance. In fact, the tall brunette was too absorbed in the butt of the weapon to even notice the men tugging furiously at the other end of it for a while. Eventually she did look up. "How does this thing work, then?" she asked, her voice dripping innocence.

"Let go immediately!" shouted one of the two men.

"Only if you promise to use it on me." said Kate. The only response this provoked was from the one who was still holding his own gun. He pointed it at the center of her exquisite face and hissed "Take your hand off the weapon NOW!"

"Oooh! Another one!" said Kate, snatching the second gun from him and turning it over in her hand as she studied it.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" exclaimed one of the two men. The brunette ignored him, adjusting her grip so that she was holding one gun in each hand, with a foot-long barrels pointed at each of her prominent nipples. They became even more prominent as she thought of the sensation she was about to experience.

"You boys had better stand back," Kate said, slightly patronizingly, "you're only men - you might get hurt."

"Wha-?" said the one who had blasphemed earlier.

"I said stand back." she repeated. Neither man moved. "OK - I'll do it for you." she said, smiling. She winked and pushed out her lips as if about to give one of them a kiss on the forehead. Instead she just exhaled very gently, like a "normal" person would exhale to put out a candle. That casual little puff generated enough force to lift both big men off their feet and throw them backwards through the air to land on their rears on the sandy ground twenty yards away. Too stunned - not to mention bruised - to move, they remained exactly where they were and just stared, disbelieving, as Kate slowly squeezed the triggers on the two weapons.

For a second, nothing happened. As a glamour model, she'd never even seen an Uzi sub-machine gun before, let alone used one. She had no idea about safety-catches. She just thought that the triggers were a little stiff, so she squeezed a little harder. She didn't see the guns deforming slightly in her palms. By the time she noticed what she was doing, the magazine of each weapon exploded in her grip. It felt a little warm to her palms, but not much more. However, the chunks of shrapnel that escaped her fists and struck her body were a delicious reminder of the joys of being shot. The razor-sharp torn edge of a particular large chunk of one gun struck her squarely on the lip, sending a tingle through her body as though she'd been kissed. Another lump rebounded off her flat stomach giving her more pleasure.

Surprised, and disappointed with the brevity of the weapons' usefulness, she dropped what was left of them to the ground. There wasn't even a red mark on either of her flawless hands. The two men sitting on the sand stared, their jaws hanging open, paralyzed in shock. Meanwhile, the rest of their unit, having heard the twin explosion that she'd so easily contained in her palms, came running back to investigate. Kate turned to face them, her now empty hands coming to rest on her curvaceous hips. As the men came puffing towards her she called out to them. "Now are you going to shoot me?"

One by one, the on-rushing men dropped down to their stomachs, their guns pointed straight at her. The two weaponless guys finally snapped out of their shared stupor and began moving in a wide circle to join their colleagues. Still, no-one fired at her. Exasperated now, Kate ran towards the isolated pair. To the men lining her up in their sights, she was just a blur until she stopped moving. Then there was a collective gasp. She was standing between the two guys with one hand on the back of each one's neck and she was grinning. The reason for the big gasp, however, was the fact that her slender arms were fully stretched above her head. She was holding the two men a foot above the ground as though they were made of paper not flesh, blood and bone.

She waited just long enough for all the armed men to see what she was doing before casually tossing both of her prisoners over her shoulders, rather like a non-super girl would throw a handful of salt for luck. She was careful not to put too much into her throws - she only wanted to provoke the others into shooting her. She didn't want to kill these two. Nonetheless, they flew in two graceful, parallel arcs to crash down nearly thirty yards away. She wasn't looking, but neither of them moved. She wasn't listening either.  If she had done, she would not have heard the noise of breathing or a the pounding of a heartbeat coming from either of them.

She soon forgot the two men entirely, as her latest demonstration of super-powers finally had the effect she had longed for. There was a cry of "Open fire!" from the one who'd first spoken to her and then a succession of flashes of light appeared at the end of the dozen guns pointed at her. These were followed by a beautiful stream of shiny pointed bullets all converging on her face and body. Her beautiful face became even more illuminated than usual by a smile of pure joy that revealed two sets of gleaming, perfect teeth. At last! she thought, leaning forward to greet the on-coming barrage and thrusting her magnificent breasts defiantly towards her attackers.

Kate's whole being seemed to explode with pleasure as the first slugs slammed into her body. In the tiniest fraction of a second the supposedly deadly barrage tore through the clothes she had taken, the thin fabrics useless in the face of supersonic hot lead. Rapidly, more and more of her flawless, intimate flesh was exposed until just a few strips of material were left hanging from her body. She didn't mind. Her eyes were closed as she concentrated all her senses on the task of deriding maximum enjoyment from every single impact against her lovely skin.

A stream of bullets stroked her face - such a delicate and warm caress - like the fingers of some Casanova. Those hot metal fingers were everywhere, massaging the front of her shoulders, playing up and down her washboard belly and gently touching her crotch with erratic, erotic expertise. She had found it delightful to be shot at from an overhead helicopter by a pair of machine-gunners. Now she was under fire from a dozen men, all at ground level, facing her from a fraction of the distance. For Kate at that moment, paradise became a very real, very attainable prospect.

At any given instant, six or seven slugs would be simultaneously pinging against her perfect smooth skin. Six or seven others would be flying away from her, battered and deformed against her invulnerable perfection. Six or seven more would be hurtling in the other direction, just about to slam into her and generate yet another series of pleasure-ripples within her. Subconsciously, her luscious lips parted slightly as she lost herself in the feeling. This meant a further sensation was added to the mix - the feel of bullets rebounding against her harder-than-steel teeth. It reminded Kate of the touch of a lover's tongue.

Soon, there was nothing left of the clothes she had been wearing. Her increasingly exposed flesh distracted the men shooting at her, drawing their eyes and consequently, their aim. As a result, a disproportionate number of slugs hit her in the chest region. She wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Kate felt as though her large, firm breasts had developed precisely for this purpose; to dimple minutely and then recover their immaculate roundness as each little projectile crashed into them, ricocheting away at an infinite variety of angles. Some would even deflect off one mound only to impact with the other, giving her double the enjoyment.

It was an awesome thought for her. Any one of these little missiles could have killed a man. Yet when they hit her, she felt only... stimulation. It made her realize just how powerful she now was. It was like being a goddess. That thought only made her hornier still. It was all so... sexy!  Every one of the tens of thousands of slugs that hit her bosom left a wonderful tingling feeling that spread outwards long after the next one hit generating yet another tingle. Quickly, the sensation built until it became one huge tremor of pleasure deep within her. With a moan of delight, Kate surrendered herself to a seemingly never ending orgasm.

The men facing her could not stop firing. To a man, they were struck by the incredible sight of this beautiful, naked girl standing happily despite being directly in the line of fire of a dozen machine weapons. They stared, shocked perhaps, at the countless slugs that bounced off her fabulous breasts to land amongst the growing piles of spent lead all around her. In awe they stared at the girl who seemed to have no problem with letting her tits get shot a hundred times a second.   More than that, it actually seemed to turn her on.  She seemed to be getting more and more worked up.  They should have known what would happen, but they were totally unprepared for it when it did.

It wouldn't have made much difference if the men had been prepared. The impossible level of Kate's yell would have burst their eardrums even if they'd covered their ears. In the end, their suffering did not last as long as the naked brunette's passionate cry. The sheer volume of the air vibration she absent-mindedly generated with her diaphragm, her lungs and her vocal chords shook their fragile bodies more violently than the fiercest earthquake, shattering bones and bursting organs. Inside three seconds, the slim young woman had killed a eleven men with nothing but her voice. And she wasn't even aware of what had happened until a full minute later as she came down off the peak of her orgasm and noticed that the men had stopped shooting...

 

Down in the ground

Hurt. Hurt bad. Ached as if she'd just woken up after a three day tequila and cheap red wine binge. And throbbed. Like her brain had been wired up to the national electricity supply. It was dark... and then almost instantly it wasn't. Suddenly she could see - newly smashed rock all around her, encircling her. And rock beneath her feet too. She looked up and saw sunlight and, in that nanosecond, remembered everything. Kirsty jumping on her and then hammering her into the ground - into this narrow shaft she found herself in. The pain in her head was beginning to diminish but it was still strong.

"That stupid, fucking bimbo!" Caroline cursed out loud, furious with the blonde who'd caused the hurting - one of only two people on the planet capable now of doing her any kind of even temporary harm. She was angry with herself, too, for letting someone like that get the better of her. Someone whom she considered - correctly - to possess about half her intelligence. The more she thought about it the angrier she got. She would have to teach Kirsty a lesson now. She bent her knees a little and sprung upwards, her shapely legs pushing her up off the ground like a missile launch. In the blink of an eye she traveled the twenty yards up to the sandy ground, rising a further thirty yards before finally slowing and coming back under gravity's power.

The petite red-haired girl landed on her dainty bare feet just next to the hole her body had drilled in the rocky ground. Her knees bent to minimize the tremendous impact, and her superhuman body absorbed the shock so well that hardly half an inch of hard stone was ground to dust under her perfect soles. She didn't waste any time congratulating herself on her athletic prowess, however. Instead she scanned the horizon for any sign of Kirsty, eager to show her former colleague the true meaning of pain and humiliation. But there was no sign of the buxom blonde anywhere. Caroline was furious. She had been physically hurt - albeit not permanently - and her pride had taken a beating as well. Someone would have to pay for it. And if Kirsty was not around, well then someone else would have to do.

A mile away, sitting in the back of a stationary truck with ten other men, Vernon Cole was listening to his new orders by radio. He was in charge of this group and they'd been instructed to lie low and await developments whilst Bower and his men searched for the unknown enemy on foot. Now, it transpired that Bower and his entire group had just "vanished" - round about the time that Cole had heard gunfire and a strange high-pitched sound that seemed too loud to be distant yet which could not have come from nearby.

With the situation getting weirder by the minute, Vernon was none to happy to receive the order to drive to the last location Bower had reported from to investigate and/or engage the mysterious hostile force. Nevertheless, he passed on the instructions to his men. The driver was told the general direction he should point the truck and began the process of starting up the engine. Then they were underway, the men in the back clutching their weapons in readiness and bouncing uncomfortably on their wooden benches as the vehicle lurched over the rough, stony ground.

 

Attack of the angry redhead

Caroline's head turned the instant she head the distant starting of a diesel engine. In less than a second, she had identified the direction the sound was coming from and launched into a run towards it. The featureless landscape swished by around her as she sprinted at racing car speed. She was anxious to work out her fury with Kirsty by doing some damage of her own. She would show that she was not the sort to be bashed into the ground without coming out fighting. After all, what was the point of gaining superpowers just to be beaten up? From now on, she would be the one doing the beating.

It took her hardly any time at all to catch up with the moving truck. She soon spotted the rear of the vehicle in the distance, heading away from her. It looked exactly like the one Kirsty had accidentally destroyed; more like a bus than a goods vehicle. Maybe there was a load of guys in the back of this one too. The rear of the thing was covered by what appeared to be nothing more than a sheet of canvas, but it could have been thick solid steel for all the difference it would have made to Caroline's X-ray vision. She counted twelve men on two long benches, all of them armed. Two others sat up front, one driving and one, she assumed, navigating.

"I'm coming boys!" muttered Caroline as she increased the phenomenal speed of her sprint still further, enjoying the way the gap between her and the back of the speeding truck shrank rapidly from hundreds of yards to a dozen in barely two minutes. She was just beginning to think of what she was going to do when she caught up with the thing, when her sensitive ears picked up traces of a frantic conversation going on inside:

"I don't know if it's a missile or not. Something's on the radar. Coming up from behind incredibly fast!"

"Wait! I can see it in the mirror! It's not a missile. It's... it's a... a girl! Fucking hell! There's a fucking chick chasing us!"

"What the..?"

Caroline smiled as she watched the canvas at the back of the truck being lifted from within. Then she laughed as she saw the stunned faces of the men looking out, easily closing the short distance between them and her, despite the fact that the well looked-after engine was working flat out.

"Hi boys!" she called out to them. "Look what I can do."

She didn't wait for a reply. She didn't even bother to break her easy stride as she matched the vehicle's speed at a jog. All she did was to raise her right foot slightly higher than necessary to complete her step. Her delicate, bare right foot. Raised about eighteen inches higher than it needed to be. No particular aggression or great physical effort. But eighteen inches was a lot more than enough to hit the underside of the truck and her dainty-looking oh-so-feminine foot was more than tough enough to withstand the impact. Not only that, but the speed, strength and sheer power of her casual kick proved more than sufficient for her plan.

Caroline's foot did not slow down in any way as it smacked into the steel frame of the vehicle. Some of the momentum she had so easily generated transferred into the truck, lifting the back of it. Unknowingly, the red-haired girl added to that motion as her foot retained its contact with the rising chassis, directing even more lift into it. The back wheels came off the ground as the entire truck then appeared to be pivoting on its front tires, as if it were preparing to do the vehicular equivalent of a hand-stand.

Caroline's feet were both planted on the ground now but still the end of the carrier rose further into the air. The men who'd been staring at her quickly disappeared from normal view as gravity pulled them violently towards the driver's end. With her X-ray vision, she watched in amusement, laughing to see all the men inside tumbling on top of each other in a heap as their once horizontal transport increasing resembled a rocket poised for take-off. Then, for a few moments, the whole truck actually was standing completely vertically, it's weight all on the windshield which soon shattered. She could hear the groan of yielding metal and the front of it began to give way.

But the strength of Caroline's little punt was far in excess of what was needed to stand the truck on end. The portion she had kicked continued to travel in its semi-circular arc, quickly succumbing to the increasing pull of gravity as the vehicle toppled over once more, coming down with an almighty crash on its roof and then skidding about ten yards across the ground, sparks flying from the friction. Once more, she used her enhanced eyesight to see the men inside rattling around like dried beans in a child's shaker, their bodies smashing into one another and the walls of the truck over and over again until, finally, vehicle and occupants came to a rest.

There was an eerie silence as Caroline jogged towards the upside down truck. The squashed driver's end faced her now; she could see the bloody bodies of the two men who'd been upfront, their eyes showing the shock that had been their last emotion. She narrowed her own eyes, scanning for signs of life in the mass of men in the back. There was definitely some movement back there. Running up to the side of the stricken personnel carrier, she calmly punched a hole in the sheet metal with one delicate fist. After she'd pulled her arm back out, she hooked her slender fingers around the breech she'd made and almost disinterestedly pulled them back, tearing a huge hole in the side of the truck with as much ease as as a normal person tearing thin paper.

Stepping through the doorway she'd installed, she ignored the fact that it was too low, preferring to let her copper-crowned head punch its own opening without slowing her one iota. Then she strode up to the pile of bodies inside. Reaching down, she lifted two men by the back of their belts, two fingers of each hand more that up to the task of carrying the weight of a big man. Seeing that they were both dead, she tossed them aside without a second thought, their corpses smashing into the upside-down walls before bouncing down to the "floor" of the truck - an uneven surface which had previously been the ceiling.

She grabbed another pair. One of them was still alive. Chucking the other away, she transferred her grip on the breathing one to the back of his neck, holding his face up level with her own. His cheek was bleeding and his eyes were closed. "Wake up!" she said sharply. There was no response. Frustrated she gave him a quick little shake, moving his body as though he weighed only a few ounces rather than his actual weight of over two hundred pounds. His arms and legs flew about wildly and when she studied his face again, he wasn't even breathing any more. Throwing him on top of the others she'd already discarded, she turned her attention back to the pile in front of her.

She had to toss half a dozen corpses aside before she found another live one. This time as she held him up to her beautiful face, she saw that he was conscious. Bruised, clearly dazed and in pain, but alive and awake. He could even speak.

"Wh... Who...are...you?" he gasped.

She didn't reply at first. She just smiled at him and lifted him effortlessly with one hand under his chin so that his feet were well clear of the ground. His eyes grew wide in surprise and fear. Then, she looked him in the eye and said, in her sweetest voice "I'm the angel of death."

Her words seemed not to surprise him.  Perhaps the shock of being lifted in the air by a petite, beautiful almost naked girl had robbed him of the ability to be surprised.  All he managed to say was "Please.  Don't kill me."  She rewarded his meekness with a warm, bright smile that held fast on her lovely face as she punished his puniness by flicking her wrist with just enough force to throw him upwards into the roof.  His head exploded in a gory red splat as his decapitated corpse crashed down at her feet.

She tossed another couple of dead men aside and found another breathing one.  Lifting him up with a hand under his shoulder, she saw his big, dull eyes watering.  He seemed to know his fate.   She tightened her grip, enjoying the sound of bone crushing beneath her fingers and the screams of agony she forced from him.  Releasing him suddenly, she let him drop onto his back on the floor.  Before he could try and roll away from her, she lowered herself gracefully to kneel astride him, making sure her smooth round knees were pressed against the sides of his pelvis.

Slowly she began to draw her knees together.   He was so soft!   There were more screams and crunching sounds as his hips collapsed under the immeasurable pressure exerted by her slender, round thighs.  Still she continued to close her shapely legs.  Finally, his yells ceased.  Her knees were covered in blood, only a few inches apart now, the man beneath her almost cut in half.  She stood up, letting the thick red liquid drip from her flawless skin, smiling at the sickening sight between her feet.

No-one else moved.  They were all dead.  She'd destroyed them all, and their vehicle.  And it had been so easy.  She should have done it more slowly.  Next time, she wouldn't be so quick.  She'd savor the death of each and every man rather than just killing so many in one instant.  Although it was going to be hard to hold herself back so much...

 

Self-discovery

Kirsty was still running.  Still confused.  She needed help.  What was happening to her, these incredible, terrible powers that she had gained - it was all too much for her.  She needed someone who could explain it to her, someone who perhaps could find a way of making her normal once more and maybe stop Caroline too.  Someone really clever.  Like a scientist or something.   But where would she find one of those?   And could she be careful enough so that no-one got killed by accident around her?  She had no choice.  She'd have to try - as soon as she could find a town.

Back at the beach, Kate was selecting herself a new set of clothes from the bodies of the men all around her.  Nothing seemed to fit.   As she removed shirts and trousers, the exposed male bodies made her think of the incredible passions that had stirred within her minutes before.  She found herself wondering.  What would sex be like now she was super?  Perhaps with a little gun-play first as foreplay.  Her fingers found their way unbidden towards her eager entrance as she lost herself in sexual pleasures once again.

A mile away, Caroline took stock of the carnage all around her, recalling with some pride how she'd caused it.  A feeling of sheer power came over her.  She really was super.  She could kill any man she wanted and nothing could get in her way.  Nothing, that was, except a big-titted moronic bimbo and a bossy flirt.  And she would find a way to deal with them too, in time.

The battered metallic tomb that had been a truck full of men moments before echoed to the sound of a cold but very feminine voice. "I am the angel of death." she said.

 

Conceptfan, Jul. 2002.

Chapter 4

All at sea

Caroline stood on the beach, looking out at the vast ocean before her. She had found her way to the shore by following the scent of salt-spray that her incredible olfactory senses had detected from ten miles inland.  Her long arms and legs were still caked in dried blood and her stomach was splattered with gore - a testament to the dozen or so government operatives she had butchered an hour earlier.  She smiled at the waves, thinking how awed she used to feel when staring at the sea.  Now, with the feeling of unlimited power coursing through her beautiful body, she considered herself an equal of the mighty waters.   The ocean offered her only the chance to wash and refresh herself - not that she felt in anyway tired.  She waded out until the waves were lapping at her washboard belly.   Once, she would have shivered and shuddered as the cold waters reached further and further up her body but now she would have been just as perfectly comfortable if the sea had been frozen.  Or boiling.

She decided to swim a little to ensure that every inch of her was immersed in the cleansing brine.  Pushing gently off her toes to provide the spring for a dive, she was astonished to find herself soaring in a graceful arc at least ten feet above the foam.  She re-entered the sea, arms first, two dozen yards from where she had been standing, breaking the surface with only a tiny disturbance despite her prodigious leap.  Impressed with herself once again, she let herself glide through the water and discovered to her increased delight that the salt water didn't sting her eyes at all.  In fact, she could see everything - fish swimming half a mile away, the sloping sea floor - as clearly as she could see through air.

A single lazy stroke of her slim arms propelled her like a torpedo fifteen or so yards through the sea, the sand beneath her flashing by.  Another easy movement of her arms, coupled with the subtlest of kicks moved her even further and faster.  Soon she was traveling at a remarkable speed, her momentum astonishing her.  Suddenly, the sea-bed dropped away dramatically beneath her and she realized she had already reached the continental shelf.  It had seemed to take her no time at all. Even at sea everything was just so... so... easy!

Diving effortlessly down so that she was traveling only a few feet above the bottom of the sea, she took in the changed scenery all around.  Looking upwards she could see the sunlight hitting the surface a long, long way above her.  She was deep now, really deep, but she hadn't even noticed the increased pressure that must have been bearing down on her body, squeezing the air in her lungs.  The air!  Suddenly she realized that she hadn't drawn a breath since she first submerged herself a couple of minutes before.  She almost panicked but then reason took over.  She felt fine.  Her body would let her know when it needed to breathe.  She wondered how long she could last before she felt the need to take on oxygen.  Twenty minutes?  An hour?  All day?

Curious to find the answer, she kept swimming away from the shore, her easy strokes generating incredible power as they drove her lithe body through the water.  She followed the ocean floor as it tilted downwards, traveling further and further from the surface, the increased darkness of her surroundings barely registering because her superhuman eyes had no difficulty functioning in the diminishing light.   She tried to chasing some of the larger fish she spotted, and found that even though they were ideally physically adapted to their environment, they were no match for her.  She could always catch her target, no matter how large or fast, within seconds.

A shark darted in front of her and she kicked out in pursuit.  At about twelve foot long, the animal would have inspired terror in any "normal" person, but for Caroline it was merely a brief diversion.  In an instant, her two delicate-looking feminine hands were clamped either side of the creature's belly.  She let it thrash around for a while, enjoying the way she could so easily hold the beast in place whilst it tried to free itself using almost every part of its huge body.  Then, when she started to grow bored of the one-sided contest, she merely squeezed her palms together until vast, dark clouds of blood burst out between them and the shark stopped its struggles.

She released the dead fish and continued on her journey.  She spotted another shark coming towards her, and then another appearing from the side, followed by a third and a fourth arriving from different directions.  Recalling a underwater documentary show she'd once seen on TV, she realized that the newcomers had detected the taste of blood in the water and were being drawn towards its source.  She paid no mind to the diners gathering for their feast until one of them, clearly driven to a frenzy by the promise of fresh meat, made a sudden dart towards her.  Seeing the attack, she swerved in the water, evading the big fish without much effort.

The animal, however, was not prepared to give up so soon.  Opening his terrifying jaws wide, it struck again, this time attempting to tear off her leg.  Caroline pulled her limb out of the way and, before the shark could recover, gave it a sharp kick with her bare foot on the top of its head.  Her toes punctured the tough, smooth skin as though it wasn't there and a new cloud of gore spilled out into the ocean depths.   Admiring the kill, she paused for a moment, toying with the idea of finishing off the other predators, before deciding that sharks were simply not enough fun to destroy.  So she put on a relaxed burst of speed, carrying herself beyond the reach of the surviving beasts in moments.

 

Surprise encounter

She was beginning to grow tired of the undersea world.   There was little down there to offer her amusement.  As for the desire to know how long she could hold her breath, well she was pretty certain by now that it was a long time.  A very long time.  Long enough to get bored out of her skull waiting.  She was just about to turn around and head back to shore when her remarkable sense of hearing detected a distant, pulsating hum.  Although she knew very little marine biology, she knew at once that the sound was not being produced by any aquatic life form.  This noise was definitely mechanical.  Man-made.  Immediately, she switched direction and headed towards the source of  it.

The closer she got, the more she realized that the sound was being produced by some kind of engine.  It was strangely muffled by the water, but there was no question in her mind.   Caroline was beginning to get excited.  Whatever this machine was, whatever it was doing down here at the bottom of the ocean, it was bound to offer her the chance of  more fun than a couple of sharks had managed.  And, if, as she hoped, the proximity of a human-built device meant that there might be an actual person or even more in the area, well - that would be great.  With renewed intent, she swam towards the sound until her remarkable eyes noticed a  dark-coloured, long, round object in the distance.

She was still too far away to realize, but inside the object, the beautiful redhead had likewise been noticed.  She appeared as a small green dot on a radar screen.  A dot that caught the eye of the young man assigned to be on the alert for such things.  He called his superior over.

"Could it be a shark?" asked the Lieutenant.

"No, it's moving too fast, sir." replied the Ensign.

"A torpedo?"

"Not fast enough."

"And you're it's on a collision course with us?"

"At present, sir, definitely."

"Shit."  The lieutenant flicked a switch on the panel next to the radar screen and spoke into a small microphone mounted on the desk.  "This is Dawson.  Get me the Captain."  Then, releasing the switch and addressing himself to the Ensign once more, he asked "How long 'till we can get a proper visual?"

"Um.. about thirty seconds, sir."

"Make sure you get whatever it is up on screen the instant it moves within range."

"Yes sir."

A moment later, a third voice was heard, over the loudspeaker.  "This is the Captain.  What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, we've picked up an unknown object approaching us from the starboard side.  Range-" Dawson hesitated.

"-about two kilometers and closing." the Ensign chipped in.

"Are you sure it's not another big fish?" the captain sounded tired.

"Definitely not a fish or a torpedo, sir."

"Well, dammit, what the hell is it?   No-one's supposed to know we're here."

"We're not sure, sir."

"Do you have visuals yet?"

"No, sir, we're still waiting.  We hope to pick up something any mo-"

"Dawson!  What is it?   Do you have the visual?"

"Er... yes, sir."

"Well, what can you see, man?!"

"It looks.. I mean... she... I mean... it can't...."

"Speak, man!!" the Captain was furious.

"She's...naked."

"Who's naked?  What's going on?  Do you have a visual?  Answer me!"

"Sorry sir.  It's the object.  It... It's a naked girl."

"A what?"

Caroline should have guessed.  What else could the mystery machine be at the bottom of the sea but a submarine!  She'd never seen one in real life before, only in the movies, so she wasn't sure if this one was particularly large or not by normal standards, but it certainly looked massive to her.  She brought her X-ray vision into play as she swam towards the vessel and felt a thrill of excitement as she realized it was full of uniformed men.  Recognizing the costumes, she knew at once that it wasn't part of a foreign espionage mission.  She decided to study them a little more.

Her incredible ability to see through the thick metal exterior of the craft was unaffected by being so far beneath the waves.  Singling out two of the men who were involved in an earnest conversation, she saw them engrossed in something on a control panel display.  She focused her superhuman eyes on them until she saw the reflection of what they were looking at in their eyes.  It was a picture of her!  They obviously had a camera trained on her.  No wonder they were so animated.  They had to be even more surprised to see her than she was to have found them.  She took her eyes of the two men and began scanning the outside of the submarine, looking for the camera.  It didn't take her long to find it.

Captain Shiller had managed to get the image patched through to his own monitor.  He stared in disbelief at the screen, his mind racing to find an explanation.   He didn't need his thirty years of naval experience to know that it was impossible for anyone to survive without a pressure suit at this depth.  As to how this.. this... young woman was able to swim so fast or indeed to apparently exist without air - he had no idea.  The intercom was still open and, although this was no time for speculation, he needed something to work with.  "Are you sure you haven't read anything about any secret experiments in this area?" he asked the lieutenant.

"Nothing, sir.  I take it there was no mention of this sort of thing in your orders, either, sir."

"Absolutely not."

"Sir!" The young Ensign's voice broke into the conversation.

"What is it?" asked the top man.

"Sir, I think it... er, she... has spotted our camera.  She, ah, seems to be smiling at us."

"Thank you, Ensign." said the captain, "I have the visual here myself."  He stared for a moment at the picture on his screen, the beautiful face, the dazzling teeth, the long hair streaming outwards in the water.

"Sir," the lieutenant offered, "I have a theory."

"Enlighten me, lieutenant."  The girl was approaching rapidly now, each stroke of her arms bringing her dramatically closer.  Now the captain could make out details of her body - the slimness of her limbs, the roundness of her behind, the gorgeous shape of her upper body.

"It could be a robot, sir."  It wasn't so ridiculous an idea under the circumstances.  Shiller stared at his screen.  She was so near now that her - he had to admit it - fantastic body filled the screen.  She moved closer still, turning herself so that she was "standing" in the water next to the camera until the view was filled with just that portion of her body between her neck and her belly.  Fuck, she has great tits, the captain thought, before finally answering the lieutenant's suggestion.

"She, um, looks real enough to me." he muttered.  His eyes were glued to the monitor.  The girl was almost touching the lens now, her marvelous chest the only thing on screen.  Then, suddenly, the picture dissolved into interference.   "What's going on?" he asked.

"We've lost the picture, sir."

"I know that!  Why?"

"The camera appears to have been broken, sir."

"Broken?  What by?"

Caroline glanced down at the broken glass floating around her body.   If she could have laughed underwater, she would have done so.  "What a sight that must have made!" she thought as maneuvered herself around the huge vessel.  Of course, she'd felt nothing at all as she had pressed her invulnerable, flawless breast against the specialist toughened underwater lens, but she had enjoyed destroying it nonetheless.  It had given her a taste for more.

She thought about punching a hole in the submarine with her small fist and just seeing what would happen as a result but stopped herself immediately.  The sheer size of the thing had set her thinking.  Surely there was something more interesting she could do with it... something that would be more of a test of her abilities.  She was directly beneath it now, staring up at the enormous expanse of hull above her.  How much must it weigh?  Not as much as it would on land, obviously, but still....  Tentatively, she held her place in the water and reached out with her two palms towards the bottom of the submarine.

 

An uplifting experience

"So where is it - she - now?" the Captain was beginning to loose patience.

"We don't know, sir." came the Lieutenant's reply.

"What do you mean, you don't know?!"

"Sir, she's either too close for the radar to detect or else she's vanished."

"Damn!" Shiller switched off the intercom.  The truth was he was unsure of his next move, but he knew enough about command to want to keep that fact from his men.  If they were closer to the surface he could just send out a couple of divers to investigate.  But down here that was impossible.  Surfacing was also out of the question.  That would be completely against every order he had for this mission.  And as long as there was no obvious threat to his crew...

Her hands pressed against the metal.  Experimentally, she kicked her legs beneath her, trying to generate an upward thrust.  She felt a tremendous strain in her slender arms for a moment and then, suddenly, wonderfully, the stain lessened.  The thing was definitely moving above her.  It was working.  She kicked her legs some more.  There was no question about it now.  She was rising up through the water and she was pushing the whole ship with her!

It wasn't easy - she could feel the effort that her arms and legs were being required to make.  She got the impression that, if she had to do this all day, she might well begin to get a little tired before the end.  But the sheer idea of what she was doing - her, a slim girl lifting an entire submarine off the bottom of the sea - made the work easy.  If she had felt powerful before, now she felt it a hundred times more intensely.  It was incredible.  Tons and tons of metal, dwarfing her, yet unable to resist her whim.  She continued to kick out with her legs, her hands pushed firmly against the underside of the vessel, creating two small impressions in the thick hull.  And still girl, ship an all continued to rise.

The captain had been just about to issue his order when his train of thought and, in fact, everything on board, was interrupted as the submarine suddenly lurched violently upwards.  He almost fell off his chair as the entire vessel suddenly began moving rapidly away from the bottom of the sea.  Recovering himself he reached for the intercom once more.  "Engine Room!" he almost screamed.  "What the hell's going on?  I gave no order to surface!"

A panicked voice shot back through the loudspeaker.  "Sir!  It's not us!  The engines are stalled!  Repeat, the engines are stalled!"  Of course they were.  He could hear that - feel it even - for himself.  So what the hell was happening.  There was another shudder and the upward movement accelerated.  It was almost like being in an express elevator.  If this kept on much longer, the integrity of the ship, not to mention the lives of the crew, would be in serious doubt.   But what the hell kind of force could be doing this?  Was it some new kind of weapon developed by an enemy state?  A freak natural occurrence?  Did it - could it - have anything to do with the bizarre - yet exceptionally attractive - sight that had filled his monitor just moments before?

She was building up a good momentum now.  As the pressure decreased, it became easier and easier to push the submarine upwards, her legs working beneath her at a blur (had anybody been down there with her to see them.)  She was no longer wondering if it would be possible to force the thing all the way up to the surface.  Now she was curious simply to know how fast she could do it.  She knew she was going quickly now - the fish flashing past her told her that - but still, she was convinced she could go even faster.

With extra effort, she kicked her legs harder and faster, amazed at the seemingly limitless abilities of her body.   Her arms felt stronger and more secure than ever above her, perhaps because she was feeling ever more confident.  She glanced up at them.  She might have expected to have seen two steel pillars extending from her shoulders, or at least huge, bulging muscles covering her.  But no, her arms were the same slim, long and shapely feminine limbs that they had been for years.  Except, of course, now they were strong.  Mind-blowingly strong.  Strong enough to carry a massive submarine through the water.

Not for the first time since those bizarre events on the beach, Caroline felt herself getting turned on by the thought of what she was now capable of.   Her gaze moved beyond her lovely arms and peered through the thick metal above her.  It was a bad angle to observe the people in the ship, but it was good enough to show the general confusion and panic in there.  Some of the men were collapsing to the ground - it took her a moment or two to realize that their bodies were unable to handle the rapidly decreasing pressure as they rocketed towards the surface.  The thought of their vulnerability contrasted with her own unending power increased her excitement and her legs pumped ever faster beneath her.

Shiller clutched his desk, his knuckles as milky white as his face.  He felt dizzy, nauseous.  Whatever it was that was forcing them to surface was doing it too quickly.  Far too quickly.  His mind raced - why would anyone do such a thing?  Surely if this was an attack by a hostile country or group, it would have been easier to destroy the ship on the sea-bed?  And if the idea was to capture the crew up top, then anyone who knew about these things would have made sure that they surfaced at a slower rate.  Not like this.  This was enough to give them all the bends.  And it was getting worse.

His legs felt as if they were made of lead.  His stomach seemed to be doing summersaults.  As for his head, it hurt.  He was certain he was going to vomit.  The room began to swirl around him... He wouldn't be able to take much more of this.  And what of his men?  Surely he had to issue one last order, one more command, but what could he tell them now?  How much he had enjoyed serving with them?  He could feel his eyes closing, felt the world becoming black and realized that it was too late for pleasantries.

They were all fainting now.  Caroline could clearly see, throughout the enormous vessel, men collapsing were they stood.  She was carrying them and their craft upwards so quickly that they were passing out.  It was fun, alright, but a thought struck her.  It would be very likely that most of those men would never know that the incredible force that had attacked their craft was... her.  A beautiful girl.   How much more amusing it would be for her if she could see their reactions to the knowledge that their destroyer was nothing more than a glamour model turned superwoman?

Immediately, she slowed the rate of their ascent.  She observed as some of the colour returned to the faces of the unconscious.  "Those poor men," she laughed to herself.  "And I haven't even introduced myself properly to them all!  After all, they deserve a chance to experience a little more of my fabulous power for themselves."  She scanned the inside of the submarine above her.  Everywhere, men were picking themselves up and taking slow, deep breaths.  Meanwhile, the redhead continued to push the ship upwards, although only at a fraction of the speed of before.

Suddenly, the terrible movement slowed.  They were still going up, but now it was almost at a normal speed - only slightly faster than the sub's own engines might have managed in an emergency.  He felt the blood-flow in his body returning to something resembling its usual pattern.  Slowly, his head cleared.  He felt the air moving only a little painfully in and out of his lungs once more.  He gathered his legs under him and carefully, using the table for support, he stood.  A little unsteady, he reached for the intercom.  "This is Captain Shiller.  What's the damage?"

The reports began to trickle in.  The integrity of the vessel was secure.  One of his men was dead, but the others were either back on their feet or else slowly recovering consciousness.   The sub was still rising, however.  He decided to address that situation first.  "Engine Room!" he barked into the intercom.

"Yessir!"

"We're still being forced to surface.  Let's fight back with a slow dive."

"Yessir!"  A moment later, the familiar whine of the engines filled the ship but there was no change to the steady upward movement of the craft.

"Engine Room!  I said dive!"

"Sir, we are.  I mean the engines are powering, the turbines are working..."

"Increase power!"  The whining grew in volume and the ship started to shake very slightly.  Still the ship was heading towards the surface.  Clearly whatever was pushing them up was more powerful than his engines - at least at half power.

"Engine Room!  Full power!  Dive!  Dive!"  Now the whole vessel was shuddering and the sound of a mechanical scream tore through the sub.  But it made no difference to their direction of travel, nor to the speed.

"Oh my God." thought the captain.  What kind of  force were they dealing with?  The shaking became ever more insistent until he barked into the microphone "Cut the engines!  Cut the engines!"  There was no point blowing up the whole ship.

Caroline heard the sound of the engines dying down.  She'd noticed when they'd first started how the ship had become a tiny bit harder to push upwards, but she'd soon adjusted.  She could feel the vessel vibrating as she easily won the contest against the powerful turbines.  Her X-ray vision sought out the engines and she marveled at the size and apparent power of the machines she had defeated.  She wasn't surprised when the crew gave up the battle; even she could tell that an explosion was on the cards.

Now the ship was silent once again.  The men appeared to have recovered from the too-fast ascent, but they - or whoever was in charge of them at any rate - seemed less willing to try anything else.  They all looked so helpless in there, just waiting to see what would happen next.  Or rather, waiting to see what she would do next.  Because, even though they didn't yet know, it was her, the petite, naked young woman, who was deciding their fates.

 

Wrecking the recce

Whatever it was, it was far more powerful than his engines.  Shiller glanced at a depth gauge.  At the current rate of ascent they would break the surface in only a couple of minutes.  He couldn't believe how far they had come in such a short period of time.  No wonder they'd all nearly died!   Now there were much closer to the waves than to the bed.  In fact, he realized, they were near enough to topside now to be able to launch a couple of divers.  He reached for the intercom switch once again.

There wasn't time to ask around for volunteers.  He just gave the names of the two men he thought would be most suitable for the task; Venners because he was probably the fittest man on board and no stranger to a wetsuit and Retson because he had experience of covert underwater operations.  He made it clear to the men that they were only to reconnoiter the area, to try and see what was under the ship.  He didn't want them engaging whatever it was in combat.  "Information," he told them as the airlock was sealed shut, "not heroics".

A minute and a half later, two men in full navy-regulation scuba gear swam nervously out of their vessel, one clutching a remote underwater camera, the other a harpoon gun.  Slowly, they made their way around the submarine, and then carefully, so as to attract as little attention as possible, they dropped down to see the underside of the craft.  Venners saw her first.  Back on board, the Captain and a small group of men clustered around a loudspeaker heard his muttered "What the fuck?"  This was quickly followed by his considered report:

"Captain, you're not gonna believe this.  There's... there's nothing down here except a chick.  Erm... she looks like early twenties, slim, beautiful, um, naked, great ass, er.."

"That'll do, Venners." Shiller chided him.

"But captain, it's her!  It's got to be her!  I mean there's nothing else down here and she's... she's got her hands on the hull like she's pushing the ship up and.. there's nothing else down here!"

"There has to be some other explanation. Retson, what can you see?"

"It's just like Venners said, sir" the other diver replied.  "Nothing down here but this naked babe.  I'll go in closer so I can get her on camera."

"Careful, Retson." the Captain cautioned.  "We don't know what we're dealing with here."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

A monitor just above the Captain's head suddenly flickered into life, revealing a blurred but indisputable outline of a female form, arms outstretched towards the hull.  The men clustered around the screen simultaneously drew breath as they saw the underwater figure turning her head towards the camera.

Caroline had heard the disturbance the two men had caused and decided to ignore them.  It was only when one of them started to edge closer that she twisted her neck to get a look.  He was carrying a camera of some kind.  She thought she'd already made her "no pictures" policy clear.  Now they were coming at her with a second camera.  She would have to do something about this.

This only problem was that she was still pushing the submarine towards the surface.  If she wanted to go after the cameraman, she'd have to take her hands off the hull.  After a moment's internal debate, she let her arms down.  As quickly as she could, so as not to lose the upward momentum of the vessel, she swam towards the guy with the video equipment.  She was by his side in the blink of an eye.  Reaching out for his face mask, she thought she would tear it off his face.  But she didn't want to abandon the task of raising the sub for long, so she grabbed the mask and pulled at it hard.  She was half-way back to her position under the centre of the vessel when she glanced down, expecting to see the man's mask in her hand.  The eye-protection was there alright but so too, to her surprise, was the rest of the man's head, torn clean off at the neck.  She'd never even noticed as she had ripped it off his shoulders with her single hand.

"Oh my God!  Oh my God!" Venners' voice was frantic over the loudspeaker.  The monitor showed nothing but fish, the camera obviously pointed away from the action.

"What happened?" demanded the Captain.

"The fucking bitch just ripped Retson's head off, sir!" exclaimed the surviving diver.

"What's that?  Venners, confirm what you just said."

"I said she just tore his head off his shoulders with one hand."

The Captain showed no reaction to the news.  "Where is she now?"

"Back under the ship, sir."

"Right, Venners.  Is your harpoon ready?"

"Yessir!"

"Kill her!"

"Yessir!"

Venners had fired many harpoons before, and not all of them at non-human targets.  He knew he would have to get in range to land a fatal shot.  Too full of rage to feel fear, he swam straight towards the girl.  She turned, clearly saw him and his weapon, but just smiled at him.  Unnerved slightly, he pulled the trigger.

It was a good shot - right on target.  Caroline kept the grin fixed on her face as she watched the dart making its way towards her through the water.  She knew it would have killed any normal person.  She also knew that it wasn't going to cause her so much as a scratch.  So she didn't move other than to continue pushing the submarine upwards as the harpoon closed in on her.  She let the point of the missile strike her abdomen and saw the point of it flatten slightly against her perfect skin before floating uselessly away.

That should have been enough, but this guy was obviously particularly stupid.  He'd already fired off a second dart at her.  She allowed it to try and fail completely to pierce her neck.  Once again, when she saw the look of shock on her attackers' face, she wished she could laugh underwater.  He. meanwhile, recovered enough to begin preparing a third shot.  She decided that enough was enough.  Twice he had tried to kill her.  He had to be told.

On board, the Captain and the men with him had heard Venners' description of the two harpoons hitting the girl with no effect.  Then they felt the whole ship lurching underneath them.  At that moment, the words "Oh fuck!  She's coming for me!" tore out of the loudspeaker.  Shiller realized that the lurch of the vessel had been caused by the girl removing her hands from the hull in order to pursue his man.  He shouted into the microphone:

"Venners!  Get the hell out of there now!"  There was no reply.  "Venners!   Venners!"  The submarine jolted once again and the familiar upward movement resumed.  "Oh my God!" said Shiller.  He shot a terrified glance at the depth gauge.  Less than a minute, he estimated, until they would break the surface.  He reached for the microphone, pressing the switch that would broadcast his words throughout the vessel.  "This is the captain.  We are under attack from an unknown force.  Get ready for a fight, men..."

Underneath the ship, the petite redhead watched the body of her latest victim sinking towards the ocean bed far, far below.  Blood oozed from his two injuries - the first in his chest where she had plunged his entire harpoon assembly after effortlessly snatching it from him.  The second wound was in his back, where the weapon emerged after passing through his heart.  This killing business was becoming just a little too easy.

Looking around, she could tell from the increasing light that she had nearly succeeded in her self-set challenge of raising the submarine.  Her long legs continued to generate upward thrust and her shapely arms remained straight, transferring that phenomenal thrust to the craft. She smiled.  The huge metal contraption was completely under her control.

 

Coming up for air

She looked up, first at the exterior of the huge machine she had mastered with nothing but her stunning, naked body, and then, using her incredible X-ray vision, at the two dozen or so men scurrying around on board.  She could see they were preparing to repel an intrusion, arming themselves and taking up positions near the two airlocks.  They actually believed they could anticipate her next move and - even more risibly - they genuinely thought they could resist her.  She was going to enjoy proving them wrong.

The submarine broke the surface of the ocean with an almighty roar of displaced water which cascaded by the gallon from its deck.  Captain Shiller felt the elevator ride that he and his men had endured come to an abrupt end.  Rushing to the periscope, he scanned the horizon through three hundred and sixty degrees but saw nothing but endless sea.  No sign of any hostile craft, nor indeed of the rescue vessels he had summoned in desperation.  The sub's secret mission was already utterly abandoned.

Whatever it was outside the ship that had carried them from the ocean floor - enemy agents or naked woman - his men were ready for it.  Experience told him that they had been dragged - or pushed - up here for a reason.  Surely the next step for their attacker was to try and get into the submarine.  That's why he'd posted his men around the hatch on the top deck and the airlock - the two weakest points.  Now all they could do was wait.

Several yards off the port side of the now floating vessel, the head of a young woman with long, straight red hair appeared above the waves.  Caroline was so impressed with the seemingly impossible feat she had just completed that she took a few moments just to stare in awe at the sheer size of the thing.  It was only then that it occurred to her that she had been underwater for over an hour and she took her first breath in all that time.  It felt nice, but there was no great sensation of relief.  She realized she could have waited a lot longer before taking on air.

She trod water leisurely, peering through the thick metal walls of the submarine, looking at the two groups of men inside as they waited for her.  She considered a number of options.  She could have surprised them all by creating a new "doorway" with her delicate-looking fists.  Or she could have shown her sheer power by entering very slowly at one of the two places where they were lying in ambush, demonstrating that their "preparedness" made no difference to her.  But she had another idea.

She dived down beneath the waves once again, a single stroke carrying her back under the ship.  Then, curling the fingers of her right hand tightly into a fist, she thrust out her slim arm straight towards the waiting hull.  There was a dull thud as her small hand smashed into the thick metal plating and a low-pitched muffled scream as that feminine fist buried itself deep in the steel.  The metal simply bent and tore and compressed and yielded to her superior strength.  Her hand continued its upward journey, hardly slowed at all by the supposedly impenetrable barrier until, with her arm inserted almost as far as her shoulder in the hull, her fingers emerged through the other side.

She wiggled her fingers about for a moment inside the ship and then pulled her arm free to admire the hole she'd created in  the thick steel, even as water began gushing in.  Swimming a few yards further down the hull she made another fist and punched another breach.  This time, knowing what to expect, it was even easier.  She felt a quiver of excitement as she saw the damage she was causing.  She was so strong.  So powerful.  Nothing could resist her.

The men on board felt two explosions beneath them, the second of which knocked several of them off their feet.  They could hear the dread sound of rushing water even before anyone could confirm that the vessel had been holed - twice.  Captain Shiller knew immediately that his lie-in-wait plan would have to be scrapped.  He could not - would not - ask his men to just sit there and drown.  Instead, he gathered everyone together at the foot of the ladder to the top hatch.

There were two inflatable life craft on the deck.  Splitting the men into two groups, he assigned each to one of the dinghies.  Still uncertain of what awaited them outside, he ordered them to launch the craft as quickly as possible as soon as they climbed out of the hatch.  Then he began to ascend the ladder.  As Captain, it was his duty to stick his head out first.  Shiller turned the handle to release the hatch and pushed the metal flap open.  Looking up, he saw nothing but empty blue sky.

The men below watched as the captain took another step so that his whole head was clear of the hatchway.  A split-second later, they heard a blood-curdling yell as his legs suddenly left the ladder and shot upwards as if something up top was yanking him up.  Within a heartbeat, the shout stopped.  Two seconds later, there was a distant splash.  Then silence once again.

She was amazed how easy it had been for her to leap out of the water and grab onto the side of the vessel.  Another jump and she landed, silently, on her bare feet, right by the hatch, water running off the perfect curves and smooth contours that formed her body.  She could see the men inside ready to climb out.  Then it was just a matter of waiting for the first one to poke his head out.  She grabbed him by the hair and pulled so swiftly that his whole frame rose up before the hair tore free, his neck breaking in the process before she casually tossed him overboard.

She knew the next one would be more cautious.  This time, instead of a head, only a hand emerged.  A hand clutching a pistol.  She closed her palm over it, enjoying the sounds of metal deforming and bones crunching before they were drowned out by the inevitable accompanying scream.  Flesh, blood and fragments of bone were mixed with contorted steel in her grasp when she opened her slender fingers once more.  She took hold of the exposed limb nearer the shoulder and pulled this second man out of the vessel, holding him, still screaming, dangling from her outstretched arm for a moment or two.

The injured man's struggles amused her only briefly.  She knew that he could do nothing to harm her and that she could end his life whenever she chose.  There was no challenge.  Still keeping him suspended with her single, dainty hand, she chucked him contemptuously over her shoulder.  His body sailed a hundred yards beyond the stern of the submarine before splashing down and disappearing.

Beneath the girl's feet, inside the sub, there was nothing but terror.  The water was rising fast.  The captain and first mate had been savagely killed by whatever was on deck.  The men faced the choice of staying and drowning or leaving and being killed.  It was the Engineer who took it upon himself to take the last remaining course of action.  His voice quivering, he called up through the hatch: "Stop the killing!  We surrender!  We surrender!"

For a moment, there was only silence.  Then, to the astonishment of those inside, a sweet, melodic female voice replied.  "Surrender?  Already?  All you big, strong men, surrendering to a little girl?  You're no fun at all!"

"Please!" yelled the Engineer.  "No more killing!  Take us as prisoners, but don't kill us!  We surrender!"

"Prisoners?" the voice seemed genuinely surprised.  "What possible use do I have for a bunch of pathetic men?"

The Engineer found a scrap of bravery somewhere within himself.  With his hands placed carefully on his head he began to slowly climb towards the hatch.  "We surrender!  We surrender!" he almost shouted as he emerged onto the deck.  He found himself staring at a pair of flawless female ankles.  Slowly he looked upwards, following endless, glorious legs to a completely exposed, inviting groin.  Beyond that, he saw a flat stomach, gloriously proud breasts and an angel's face topped with stunning, shoulder-length red hair.  She looked like she belonged on a poster next to one of the bunks down below.  "Who.. who are you?" he stammered, beginning to climb to his feet.

"Stay on your knees!" she commanded.  Instantly, he obeyed.  "You others!" she called towards the hatch.  "Come out now or I'll kill every one of you!"  Slowly, the men began to climb out onto the deck.  As each one emerged, his eyes widened at the sight of the incredible girl's naked beauty.  Whenever one of them tried to stand, she rebuked him with a sharp "Kneel!"  Soon, she was standing on the deck, sea breeze blowing in her lovely hair, her hands dominantly on her hips and her wonderful chest thrust out whilst twenty large, fit men kneeled in supplication all around her.

 

Love-in

Caroline loved the attention she was commanding, and the fear she had instilled in each of these men - every one of whom was bigger than her.  She knew that she possessed more strength in one of her fingers than all these men's entire bodies combined.  She knew that there was nothing they could do and no weapon they might have that could harm her.  She had overpowered their craft.  She had killed four of them with the utmost ease and in the process subjugated all the others.

She glanced down and around at them, twenty men, waiting on their knees for her word.  She could sense the mortal terror she inspired in each and every one of them and the desire her beauty and her potency stirred. She felt the power in every fibre of her being.  A slim, lone woman with twenty men completely in her command.  Big men - muscled, young and fit.  And they were hers.  She smiled.  No wonder she felt so horny.

It was then that she finally decided what to do with her prisoners.  She didn't bend her head to speak to the men around her feet, as though she didn't feel they were worth the effort.  She kept her hands planted firmly on her lovely hips, if anything thrusting out her terrific breasts even more than usual.  "I am your Goddess," she announced,  "and I am giving you the honour of worshipping me.  Worship my beauty and my power.   Worship my perfection with your pathetic, fragile bodies.  Do it now if you want to live."

There was a pause, and finally the one who had offered the surrender rose to his feet and took a few nervous strides towards her.  As soon as he was in reach, she flashed out her left hand, planting her palm on his stomach.  The one-handed push lifted him off the deck and propelled his entire body, bent almost double, backwards out to sea.  He didn't scream purely because the force of her initial touch had killed him instantly.  As his corpse sunk beneath the wave she said coldly.  "I did not tell you to stand.  You will remain on your knees in the presence of your goddess.  Now worship me!"

Clearly terrified now, the remaining men moved forward as one, crawling, shuffling on all fours, approaching the young woman whose every command they had no choice but to obey.  When they were close enough they began to stretch out their hands to her, trembling fingertips brushing against the immaculate warm smoothness of her lower legs.  Gradually, they began to touch her with more of their hands, some actually stroking her calves and ankles, even her knees.

The incredibly light touches were almost imperceptible to her, but there were so many happening at once that she found, to her surprise, that the overall effect was not at all unpleasant.  The men, too, were clearly starting to warm to their task, putting more and more pressure into their caresses, jostling now with one another to get better access to her wonderful silky, fragrant skin.  Some of the braver men were now touching her thighs, creating tiny, but delightful tingles that went pinging through her being.

Each time one of the men found enough courage to try something new - like touching her thighs or, as more and more of them were now doing, kissing her legs - they would immediately pause and glance up at her in pure fear to ensure that they were not displeasing her.   These looks of pleading and terror only served to turn her on more and more and those checking her beautiful face for a reaction saw her full lips parting sexily to expose a hint of her lovely teeth.

It was clear to the men that their actions were stimulating their incredible captor.  The expressions of her arousal - the look on her face and a subtle but undeniable and irresistible scent in the air - also began to have a reciprocal effect on them.  They began to approach their task with increased vigour, rubbing their hands more and more enthusiastically over her, kissing her thighs and legs more and more passionately, running their tongues over her delicious flesh.  That, in turn, caused her perfect pink nipples to engorge and harden, driving the men who noticed wild with lust.

There were hands now inside her thighs and on her tight, round rear.  Tongues darted between fingers and lips pressed everywhere on her lower torso.  Gradually, the men realized that they could not cause her discomfort or provoke her anger by being to harsh and they began to squeeze and pull at her flesh.  Some tried biting her, their teeth failing to even leave a temporary mark on her perfection, no matter how violently they clamped their jaws down on her.

Encouraged both by her lack of negative reaction and the wonderful way she tasted, they intensified their ministrations.  They began to push one another, each man clamouring to find a little area of her wonderfulness that they could adore with their hands, their lips, their tongues and their teeth.  Increasingly, they ventured towards her groin, every nervous caress or kiss or lick or bite on her inner thighs or her lower stomach followed by the usual pause to seek her approval.

There were hands and faces everywhere on her lower body.  A low moan of pleasure passed through her gorgeous lips and the men immediately took the encouragement and began encircling her pubic mound.  Those who could not find space to tend to her pelvic region contented themselves with increasingly earnest ravishing of her legs or her rear.  One man - perhaps being especially courageous or perhaps lost in his own lust - reached up and touched the side of her breast.  She moaned again and others took the invitation.  Soon many hands were rubbing and squeezing her chest from every angle.

The order to remain on their knees meant they could not reach high enough to touch her face or to apply anything other than outstretched hands to her breasts but no-one dared raise himself up.  The attentions were almost violent now.  Large, masculine hands squeezed her large breasts with all the strength their owners could muster, barely denting her immaculate flesh.  Jaws closed aggressively on her thighs and blood began to appear on her limbs - not hers of course, but from the gums of the men whose teeth were torn from their gums by her sheer invulnerability.

 

The game gets rough

Caroline was on her way to heaven. A rough male finger stroked the very entrance to her sex, making her shudder with pleasure.  Soon, more hands joined in, then a tongue and finally many tongues and teeth.  Some of the men were trying to enter her with their hands or their mouths, but as determined and aggressive as they were, not one of them could prize her open even a fraction of an inch.  Despite that, the constant touching and rubbing was stirring something deep within her, a feeling that grew with every intimate contact.  And there were dozens of intimate contacts occurring every second.

Lost in the pleasure, she brought her own hands to her chest to add her considerably more effective strength to that of the men working her breasts.  She heard the crunching of a few bones and a few yells as some tough male hands became trapped between her delicate fingers and her supposedly soft mounds, but the caressing continued.  She could feel blood on several parts of her body, but paid it no mind as she concentrated on letting the feeling deep within her grow.

The men were getting hurt now; some quite badly.  Many had lost teeth, ripped from their gums as they moved across the indestructible, impenetrable, flawless and wonderful plains, hills and forests of her body.  Some had been unfortunate enough to have been caressing her chest when her impossibly powerful hands had joined the task, their own flesh and bone crushed like insignificant dry earth, reduced to nothing by the unfathomable pressure created by a girl's hand and her beautiful erotic breast.

Yet even these fresh amputees continued their duty of worship, using whatever limbs they still had, their hands and mouths slipping on their own blood and saliva and that of their crewmates as they worked.  Most no longer knew if they were acting out of  fear of the consequences of stopping or out of a genuine desire to please this young woman who called herself, with full justification, their Goddess.  Only those whose injuries - whose blood-loss - was so severe that they lost consciousness were not fully engaged in the task.  These men - two, three, four, now five of them - lay at her feet, in supplication even while comatose.

Of the remaining worshippers, those concentrating their efforts on the unyielding entrance to her vagina found that even though they could not penetrate her, her juices were beginning to flow.  They lapped up the sweet, sticky, aromatic liquid with their eager, bruised tongues and rubbed their bleeding hands over her indestructible nether lips.  One man, his hands too damaged to be used, his front teeth long since knocked out and his tongue too swollen and bruised to move, pressed his nose as hard as he could against her sex until with a loud crack, the bone broke and he fell away from her, blood streaming from his now much flatter face.

She looked down for a moment and saw the blood everywhere.  On the faces and hands of the men and all over her fabulous body.  She saw the growing pile of unconscious men at her feet and knew that they were giving everything to her.  The thought of so many men apparently being prepared to sacrifice so much for her was thrilling, but the idea that they could be so easily and so severely injured against the softest and supposedly most vulnerable parts of her was truly fantastic.

The constant attention around the edge of her sex was definitely having an effect.  The sensation within her was building ever more urgent, ever stronger.  She realized that the time was approaching when she would need more even than all the men together could provide.  She needed something actually inside her.  She knew that the men just could not do that.  Their soft bodies would just dissolve into gore in her superhuman canal.  She would have to use her own fingers.

She reached down, unaware of the hands and faces she was damaging as her hand brushed past them, paying no attention to the tongues and fingers she incidentally crushed against her harder than steel groin as she sought out her sexual centre.  As her fingertips touched her dripping entrance with a force hundreds of times greater than the total applied by all the men, her lower body spasmed dramatically and her knees closed slightly.  The unfortunate man who had thrust his head between her legs to be better able to lick her vagina was instantly and horrifically killed, his skull exploding as her shapely knees crushed it like a ripe watermelon.

Caroline's hand continued its quest, ignoring the fresh gore splattered over her body, pushing aside whatever hands or faces were in its way as her fingers slowly but easily achieved what twenty men had been unable to and slipped inside her.  Her whole form began to shake violently as she stroked herself deeply, throwing the men still working on her body clear as though they were nothing more than lightweight rag dolls.  Her moaning increased in pitch and volume and her hand started to work ever faster until it became a blur to the few men still conscious enough to observe it.

Soon she was shaking so dramatically that the entire vessel on which she stood began rocking in the water.   Comatose men rolled one way and the other on the deck, colliding with each other and the perimeter railings.  The tiny handful who were still alert clung on to whatever they could.  Those who tried to grab onto her ankles were soon shaken free to join the rest of the melee.  The friction created by her eager, superhumanly fast fingers started to burn away the blood from around her groin, dark smoke now rising from her pelvis.

Inevitably, she reached her climax.  Deep within her being, the pressure that had been building for so long was finally released, cascading outwards from her very core to reach, in wave after wave of incredible sensations, every corner of her body.  Throwing her head back, her lovely red hair spilling out behind her, she arched her back and shut her eyes.  Her scream of pure pleasure was loud and intense enough to make the ears of many of the men bleed.

The orgasm lasted for nearly half a minute, filling her with such intense joy that she thought she might explode.  When it was finally over, she sunk to her knees with a loud metallic clunk, creating two deep impressions in the steel deck.  She felt as though she should have been out of breath yet somehow she wasn't.  She didn't even feel tired or achy as she had always done after a release before her incredible transformation. Now, she felt nothing but a deep sense of satisfaction.

It was several more seconds before she was able to open her eyes and look around.  The deck was littered with unconscious men.  They were splattered with blood and their clothes were torn.  Some displayed horrific injuries like crushed hands or faces beaten almost to a pulp. Not one of them seemed awake.  She began to wonder if some of them were alive at all.  Rising gracefully to her feet, she saw that her body was coated in their blood, sweat and saliva.  "Such filthy creatures, these men" she thought.

Despite the mess, however, she couldn't help but be impressed with the scene she had created.  She hadn't lied when she had told the men she was a Goddess.  She chuckled as she wondered what the survivors would tell their rescuers.  Originally, she had intended to kill them all but now, with the afterglow of her orgasm still prevalent in her mind, she was feeling charitable towards them.  They had, after all, performed their duty to the best of their ability.  It wasn't their fault that they were so weak, so fragile, so soft - so inferior.

With a sigh, she strolled to the edge of the deck, stepping over a couple of unconscious or perhaps dead bodies on the way.  It was a pity that they hadn't lasted.  She would have liked to have started the "worshipping" thing all over again.  But, she consoled herself, there would be other opportunities.  After all, who could possibly stop her if she wanted to do this again someplace else?  No-one, she thought as she dived into the ocean to begin the swim back to shore, no-one on Earth.  Apart, of course, from Kirsty or Kate.

 

Getting a ride

Back on land, Kirsty had run some fifty miles in around twenty minutes when she came upon the deserted road, but she was in no mood to appreciate that remarkable fact.  Tears still welled in the buxom blonde girl's eyes as images from the past few hours flashed through her mind.  She knew she had to get some help before she killed again and the highway she'd stumbled upon represented the best route to a town or city where that help might be available.  Turning onto the asphalt strip without slowing her phenomenal pace, she headed down the empty road, her enormous chest bouncing with every stride, threatening to burst out of her over-worked thin T-shirt at any moment.

Only a couple of moments later, Kirsty's superhuman eyes spotted a large truck on the horizon.  She completely forgot the ease with which she could now cover long distances unaided.  Instead, she saw the vehicle and its driver as her best bet for quickly reaching the nearest town.  But she feared a repeat of the disaster she had caused the last time she'd ran towards a speeding lorry, so she slowed to a halt, standing still by the side of the road.  As the truck neared, she thrust out her upraised thumb as any hitch-hiker would have done.  Immediately, she was rewarded with the sound of hissing air-brakes and the big vehicle pulled up to a stop right next to her.

"Where're you headed?" asked the huge, balding man behind the wheel as he leant across his cab to open the passenger door.

"Can you take me to the nearest town?" enquired the blonde, looking up at the trucker's huge frame.

"Sweetheart, I'll take you anywhere you want to go." he replied, smiling as he leered at her generous breasts.  Kirsty decided to ignore the big man's lewd behaviour as she carefully began to climb up to join him.  Closing the door with utmost caution behind her, she was relieved when she managed to shut it without any causing any damage.  They exchanged first names before Randy, the driver, set his rig in motion once again.  But it soon became apparent that he was barely capable of tearing his eyes away from the front of her T-shirt for more than a few seconds at a time.

The more he stared, the more uncomfortable she became.  She tried folding her arms across her chest, but that just seemed to draw his gaze all the more.  She turned her back slightly on him and caught him actually leaning forward to get a better view of the upper portion of her figure.  "Hey Randy," she said, annoyed, "keep your eyes on the road."

"Don't worry, honey," the big guy answered, "I've been driving this stretch for years.  You're in safe hands."  He had turned his face towards her to speak, but he wasn't addressing her face.  He was just talking to her breasts.  She was getting pretty angry with him, but she needed the ride too much to do anything about it.  They drove on another dozen or so miles with Randy spending more time looking at her nipples tenting the fabric of her T-shirt than at the highway in front of him.  Then, suddenly, he announced "I gotta make a quick stop up ahead for some gas."  Less than a minute later, he was easing off the accelerator and pulling into a run-down petrol station.

 

A plan is hatched

Kirsty's remarkable eyes had no trouble seeing the two men - one older and the other around Randy's age - who were in the window-less back room of the cabin that served as an office, even though they were supposedly hidden behind a six-inch-thick wall.  At the sound of the truck pulling up, the younger man walked out into the main part of the tiny building to observe his customer through a large pane of glass.  Sitting still in the truck as her companion made heavy work of climbing out, the beautiful blonde examined the two attendants' ugly faces in the kind of detail that made her super-vision feel more of a curse than a blessing.

Randy closed the driver's door behind him, but instead of walking round to the pumps as Kirsty had expected, he strolled straight into the office, glancing over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him.  It was clear from the young man's reaction that he was well acquainted with his visitor.  Kirsty watched, the intervening walls no obstacle whatsoever, as Randy called the third, older, man in from the back room and the trio huddled closely together.  They were earnestly discussing something; she could see frantic hand gestures and animated faces.  The older man opened a draw in a battered looking wooden desk and pulled out a length of rope.  He was laughing.

She wished she could hear what they were saying.  And then, suddenly, she could.  It was as if her brain had sent a message that had activated yet another of her incredible new abilities - super-hearing.   In an instant, every sound, every breath, every heartbeat inside the closed office - thirty yards away - became crystal clear to her as though the men were standing right next to her.  But she only had a few moments to marvel at her remarkable senses before she became distracted by the topic of the conversation.

"...right here in the back room." the old guy was saying as her ears tuned in.

"But.. someone might see!" protested his colleague.

"No-one ever stops here this time of day.  And even if they did, they can't see in there." Randy insisted.

"Besides," the veteran continued, "we'll be through in no time."  He cackled as he spoke and Kirsty wondered what it was that they wanted no-one to see and that would be "through in no time."

"And...what do we do.. you know... afterwards?"  the young attendant sounded incredibly nervous.  After what? thought Kirsty.

"Then we just let her go." Randy answered.  Let who go?

The young man wasn't satisfied with the reply to his question.  "Won't she go to the cops?"

"So what if she does?" retorted the old garage man.  "My brother's the Sheriff and my cousin is the judge.  Ain't no-one around here that would believe her!"

"You sure?"

"'Course I am."

Kirsty's mind raced.  These guys were obviously planning something criminal, something for which some woman - a mysterious her - might go to the cops.  What were they going to do?  Who was the woman?

Randy provided her with all the answers she could have wanted a few moments later as he spoke.  "So, we'll do it.   I'll go back and get the bitch then we'll tie her to the table out back -" he gestured the back room with his thumb, "- till we're done.  Then if she's still breathing I put her in the truck and dump her out somewhere by the highway.  Agreed?"

The two garage men nodded.  Back in the cab of the truck, Kirsty finally realized what was happening.  She was the mysterious woman.  And the crime they were planning was a gang rape.  For a few seconds, she was seized with an overpowering fear that drained all the blood from her stunning face.  Then, she recalled the events of the day.  She didn't need to be afraid.  She had super-powers!  She had already survived machine gun fire and explosions.  She'd caused horrific damage with only casual movements of her stunning model's body.   The terror evaporated.  There was nothing these men could do to her.

But once she was released from the all-consuming fear, Kirsty's limited powers of thought were free to consider the situation.  The three men plotting the vile attack had no idea that she couldn't be hurt; in fact, they were quite happy to inflict terrible suffering on her.  Randy, the truck driver she had believed was happy to help her get to the nearest town, had actually betrayed her right from the start.  It had always been his intention to bring her here to his friends so that they could all force themselves on her against her will.  He'd probably done this sort of thing before.  Far from a knight in shining armour, Kirsty realized, he was nothing short of a beast.

 

The eyes of the beholder

Anger burnt in her.  She turned her face towards the cabin containing her three would-be assaulters, her eyebrows set in a furious frown.   She saw the older man going into the back room, her X-ray vision allowing her to observe as he cleared a table of papers and began uncoiling the rope in his hand.   His junior colleague stood by, a malicious grin on his face, a tiny thread of saliva dribbling down his chin.  Meanwhile Randy strode purposefully out of the little office, not bothering to close the door behind him as he made his way across the forecourt towards his truck.  As he passed by the two decrepit pumps he smiled warmly at her, beckoning her to come and join him, as if he intended nothing more malicious than to offer her a sandwich.

The devious bastard!  Pretending to be so helpful and pleasant when he only wanted to trick her and rape her.  Kirsty was furious as she stared intently at his waving, approaching form walking past the petrol pumps.   At that instant, she became aware of a peculiar new sensation in her eyeballs.   It was like nothing she'd ever experienced before - a sort of building up of some kind of energy, as though something in there was filling with power.  Was this a side-effect of whatever had happened to her back at the beach; some yet undiscovered aspect of her new superpowers?   She could feel a strange warmth in her eyes now as the energy-building sensation seemed to be reaching its peak.  What was happening to her?

Randy had heard the expression "if looks could kill..." many times.  But he never knew that they could kill.  As he glanced towards the front window of his cab, he saw the intense, angry stare on the blonde's face and hesitated for a moment.  Why did she look so pissed off?  She couldn't have any idea what he was planning for her.   He checked her features again.  There was something weird.  It was her eyes.  They appeared to be... glowing. "What the -" he started to exclaim.  His words were cut off before he had finished as two bright red beams suddenly shot out of the girl's pupils, like something out of a science fiction movie.

It took the trucker a quarter of a second to realize that the twin rays were racing towards him.  When the next quarter second had elapsed, half of his body, from the waist upwards, had vaporized - reduced to nothingness by the unfathomable heat of the lasers Kirsty had unwittingly generated.  She understood now what the peculiar sensation of gathering power in her eyeballs had been.  It was yet another fantastic new ability.  She had shot a death ray from her eyes, disintegrating a large man in an instant, simply by giving him an angry look!

Perhaps the shock of what was happening stunned her, because she failed to react as the two red beams stretched further, powered by some unfathomable force inside her.   In no time at all, the ends of the lasers had reached one of the gas station's two ancient pumps.  A moment later, unearthly-powerful heat energy was flooding into the rusty metal, turning it red then yellow and then white before the entire pump melted away into a pool of bubbling liquid metal.  Finally, Kirsty managed to bring her new power under control.  She just blinked, instantaneously switching off the dual heat rays.  But by then it was too late.

The stellar heat ignited the hundreds of gallons of gasoline stored beneath the two pumps.  All that the two garage workers preparing their hideous attack in the office knew of it was an almighty "wumpf!" that shook the ground beneath their feet.  They had no time to react before they, their cabin, Randy's truck and the entire gas station were swallowed up in an enormous red-orange ball of fire.  A series of secondary explosions followed as canisters of gas and the lorry's own petrol tank also succumbed to the fearsome temperatures until the whole area became a burning, erupting inferno and the sky filled with black smoke and - momentarily - with debris.

Kirsty felt the truck being ripped violently apart all around her as the warmth caressed her body deliciously, reducing her minimalist outfit to a few shreds of charred material.   She fell the few feet to the flaming ground as the seat and the vehicle beneath her blew up.  As the fire licked at her, huge red-hot chunks of lorry and petrol station rained down on her head, bouncing off the crown of her long blonde hair without leaving a mark anywhere on her invulnerable skull.  Some of the lumps of twisted, torn metal that missed her head fell instead on her shoulders, bouncing off her smooth skin with a clang.  Other pieces struck the top of her now exposed chest, but even her softest flesh remained completely unaffected by the brief, but normally deadly aerial bombardment.

Only the bits of steel themselves bore any sign of collision.  Every piece that hit her carried a perfect imprint of some part of her incredible body.  She stood up, staring at the flames and smoke all around.  She had done all this with just her eyes!

Putting the wonderful sensation of deadly heat caressing her body to the back of her mind, she stood up amidst the fire.  She wanted to scream.  Sure those three guys had been about to hurt her, but that did not change the fact that she had unintentionally killed yet again.  This time it was three men.  How many would it be next time?  Thirty?  Three hundred?  Was there no end to the curse that had been placed on her?  Where such lethal lasers had appeared a few moments before, harmless tears now welled in her pretty blue eyes.  She walked slowly away from the wreckage of Randy and his vehicle, not daring to turn back and see once again the terrible destruction she had wrought.  The fires continued to burn as she moved, naked, back towards the highway.

 

Retail therapy

Not many miles away, Kate was leisurely strolling down the beach.  She was clothed in bits of tight-fitting military uniform which she had "borrowed" from the soldiers whose brains she had unwittingly burst by screaming with uncontrolled orgasmic delight.  But, as she followed the shore, her thoughts were filled with the indescribable pleasures she had felt when the men had shot at her.  She held no feelings of remorse for the lives she had prematurely ended.  In her view, the men had been trying to kill her, and that exonerated her from any guilt.   All she cared about at that moment was finding a way to recreate the wonderful feeling of her body being repeatedly stroked by hot supersonic lumps of metal.

After a half-hours' gentle walking in which her long legs had effortlessly covered well over a dozen miles without tiring her in the slightest, Kate's superhuman eyes spotted signs of civilization on the horizon.  A minute later, she could make out the details of the outskirts of what appeared to be a small town.  Encouraged by the possibility of someone there having a gun and thus being able to use it on her, she advanced.  Soon enough, she was strolling down a quiet, narrow street of shops, passing semi-deserted bars and clothing boutiques.

There were not many people out on the street, even though it was late afternoon but her stunning face and model's figure drew glances from anyone she neared.  The men, unsurprisingly, paid her particularly close attention.   She realized that her chosen attire - made up of clinging camouflage - made her even more conspicuous than usual.  However, as a nearly six-foot tall glamour model, she was used to being the subject of lingering looks.  Now, with superhuman energy flowing throughout her wonderful body, she merely enjoyed the attention.  She smiled at each man who dared catch her eye, delighting in the way her ultra-sensitive hearing could detect the increased speed of their breathing and heartbeats, loving the whole idea of being beautiful and super.

Once or twice, she passed a young man who appeared above average in the attractiveness stakes.  Reveling in her fabulous new abilities, she used her powers of X-ray vision to examine their groin areas, noting with satisfaction that she was having an effect there, too.  Wondering what sex would be like with her enhanced physical capabilities, she was giving serious consideration to approaching the next decent-looking man and propositioning him when something even more enticing caught her eye.  A simple sign, hanging in front of a shop about a hundred yards away.  Too small to be read at that distance by any "normal" person, the painted letters were as clear as daylight for her.  She noted the words "Guns and Ammo" as a wide smile spread across her face.  Kate made a bee-line for the store.

A bell tinkled as she carefully pushed open the door, making sure she didn't rip it clean off its hinges.  Once inside, she looked around.  The place was full of every kind of firearm.  Dozens of different types of rifles were mounted over almost every available inch of the two side walls.  The back wall, facing the shop's filthy-windowed front, was dominated by a long glass counter containing two shelves.  Each was packed with an enormous variety of hand-held weapons; pistols of every conceivable size and style, boxes of ammunition, even a few grenades.  Kate took it all in slowly, licking her full red lips.  There was an awful lot of fun to be had in here.  She felt like a kid in a candy store.

A thin, wiry man with several days' stubble was seated behind the counter, reading a magazine.  The sound of the bell made him look up from the glossy pages he was holding; the sight of his customer made him forget about the periodical altogether.  There, right in front of him, was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen.  She was tall and slender with an angel's face and a model's figure - long, shapely legs, curvaceous hips, a tiny waist and a chest that was eye-poppingly large and firm.  Her stunning form was accentuated by her unusual outfit which seemed to be made up of a few bits of military combat clothing that was clearly a few sizes too small for her.  The shopkeeper swallowed hard.  "Stay cool, Phil." he muttered to himself.

But he couldn't help staring.  He glanced down at her feet - naked and flawless.  She didn't seem uncomfortable without shoes.  He let his gaze rise slowly up the perfect bare skin of her legs, past her dainty ankles and smooth knees as far as the tantalizing glimpse of silky, round thigh that was visible beneath the lower limit of her cut-off shorts.  These seemed to be nothing more than a pair of army trousers with most of the two legs torn away as if their wearer had decided that this was the minimum amount of material she could get away with for the bottom half of her body.

Her only other garment was equally economical in coverage - a man's camouflage shirt with both sleeves roughly torn away.  This was obviously far too small for her; a few inches of perfect, washboard belly was left exposed, allowing Phil to peer into her deep, inviting navel for a second or two.  But he didn't let his eyes rest on her stomach for long... The shirt was definitely too small.  She couldn't have fastened the top four buttons without tearing the fabric.  The two sides of the collar were forced wide apart by her big round breasts that stretched out the material to its absolute limit.  Her nipples tented the front and between them, acres of incredibly perfect cleavage were on display.  In fact, so much of her chest was visible that he could see she wasn't wearing a bra.  His mind boggled; those marvelous melons were so large yet so impossibly firm they didn't need any artificial support!

It was all he could do to tear his bulging eyes from that incredible fleshy valley to check out the girl's face.  He found it as lovely and as worthy of study as the rest of her:  Her gorgeous mouth with its generous lips slightly parted in a grin, affording him a peak of her flawless top teeth.  Her cute, not-too-large, not-too-small nose, her sexy clear brown eyes that seemed to shine with their own light, her delicate, perfect arched eyebrows.  Her wonderful dark lustrous hair that hung straight, curtain like below her shoulders.  There had never been a pin-up even half as beautiful as this girl in any of the trashy magazines he liked.   If the Devil had appeared right then and offered him five minutes' "quality time" with her in exchange for his soul, Phil would readily have shaken hands on the deal.

Clearing his throat, he finally managed to speak, ashamed at the nervousness in his voice that he couldn't hide, try as he might. "Can...can I help you, ma'am?"

She turned and looked straight into his eyes, smiling.  With the full force of her radiance directed at him, Phil felt weak, as though his legs might give way beneath him at any moment.  When she moved her mouth to talk, shaping those luscious lips and flashing those immaculate white teeth, he nearly fainted.

"I want to try out your guns." she said, making the simple statement sound incredibly seductive.

"Er... you're certainly well um... dressed for it.   What type of weapon did you want to er... try?" Phil asked, not knowing where to look.

"All of them."

"All..of...them?  Um... what sort of weapon are you particularly interested in?"  Now he was in his field of expertise, it was supposed to be easier, but the phenomenal beauty of this young woman was affecting his brain.

"No particular type.  I want to try all of them."

"I...er...I mean... we... ah... stock over 400 personal firearms..." This was a prepared speech but Phil was so nervous it sounded like something he was making up as he went along.  "It... um.. could take a long time to.. er.. try all of..."

"I've got nothing else planned." she smiled.  He felt himself pressing hard against the inside of his shorts and realized, blushing, that he would have to remain behind the counter and hope that she wouldn't notice.

 

Self-service

Kate's incredible eyes had long since peered through the metal and glass counter and studied what lay beneath the tongue-tied shopkeeper's clothes.  She was getting better and better at using her X-ray vision and had proven that fact to herself by closely examining the guy's unimpressive erection.  She was as pleased at the reaction she had caused as she was disappointed with what he had to offer.  Turning away she strolled towards the wall on her left, casting her gaze over some of the dozens of rifles mounted there.   Selecting the one she thought looked prettiest she pointed to it and, looking over her shoulder, said "Let's start with that one."

"I'll just fetch the key..." said the shopkeeper, fumbling with an enormous bundle of keys which he fetched from a hook by where he was seated.  Kate hadn't realized until that moment that each weapon on the wall was attached to its bracket by a short length of steel rope which was fastened with a chunky-looking padlock.  More than enough to foil even the most skillful grab-and-run thief, she resisted the temptation to laugh out loud at the arrangement.  As if such pathetic little bits of metal were any sort of impediment to her!

Seeing the poor guy still struggling with his bunch of keys, she said casually "Don't bother."  She reached out with her left hand, hooking her index finger around the loop of steel.  A gentle tug ripped it in two, the metal emitting a quick screech of protest as her delicate digit effortlessly exerted more pressure than mere steel could withstand.

"Jesus Christ!" exclaimed the shopkeeper as she took hold of the now-freed rifle and held it out for examination.  Ignoring him, Kate turned the weapon over in her hand until she was staring down the business end of the barrel.  Her other hand left her side and a finger stretched out towards the trigger mechanism.  She knew she had to squeeze the little lever to get the result she wanted, and began applying pressure with her finger tip.  Immediately, the room filled with the increasingly familiar sound of metal straining under forces too strong for it to withstand.  The trigger and its housing deformed in her feminine grasp, the steel yielding and re-moulding itself around her fingers.

Angrily removing her hand she dropped the weapon nosily onto the ground.  That prompted the storekeeper to leave his seat behind the counter.  Walking around to her, he bent a picked up the damaged rifle and examined it.  The shape of her palm was clearly visible in the metal.  "What the fuck?" he exclaimed as he carried it back to his perch in disbelief.

"It's broken." Kate said, matter-of-factly.  She started reaching for another.

"OK, lady, that's enough!" barked Phil. The girl whirled around at the sound of his voice.  Christ, she was beautiful.  But she had already - somehow - badly damaged an expensive bit of his stock.  He wasn't going to just do nothing while she performed the same trick on another of his rifles.  Whatever it was - however she had broken the lock and crushed the trigger mechanism - he couldn't just let her do it again.  Even if she did have a great body.  A fantastic body.

He was taken completely by surprise as the girl responded with a teasing "Oh, I haven't even started yet!" and continued to stretch for another rifle.  Her hand reached the padlock securing it.  There was the same quick screech as before and this latest weapon was free of its restraints.  How the hell did she do that?

This had to stop.  Phil thrust his hand into the waistband of his trousers and with practiced ease extracted his own pistol.   Pointing it at the beautiful stranger's head he put as much authority as he could muster into his words and ordered "Put it down and step away!"

She turned to him, smiling faintly.  "Enough chit-chat.  Are you going to use that tickler on me or not?"

"Damn right I will if you don't put that rifle down and get out of my shop immediately."

"Good.  Well, I'm not moving, so you'd better shoot."

"I mean it, lady.  Put it down."

"No.  Now shoot me."   Phil didn't know how to react.  The girl seemed to be attempting to call his bluff, almost daring him to fire.  He decided to squeeze off a warning shot.  Years of practice had made him an excellent shot.  The slug passed just inches from her ear, embedding itself in the far wall amongst the rifle display.  The girl didn't flinch.  She didn't even blink.  "You missed." she said.

"I won't next time," Phil retorted, feeling a little uneasy.

"I hope not."

"Look, I don't know what your game is, lady, but I really am going to shoot you unless-"

She interrupted him.  "-Shut up and shoot, man!"  Angered by her defiance, Phil lowered the gun a little and shot her in the ankle.  Or as it turned out, not actually in the ankle so much as on it, because the bullet never went in.  To his utter amazement it seemed to ricochet with a ping off her skin, ploughing into the floorboards by her feet.  He stared at her calf, unable to understand why the shot hadn't left so much as a bruise.  "Stop staring and do it again, properly this time!" the girl ordered him.  Utterly confused, Phil looked up at her face.  What the fuck was happening here?

She looked pissed off.  Still holding the second rifle in her hands she adjusted her grip so that she held it with one fist at either end and brought it up in front of her.  Then, incredibly, she moved her hands sharply apart.  With a metallic screech the entire weapon just tore in two so that she was left with half of it in either palm.  "Fuck!" he muttered.  What the hell was he dealing with here?  She held the destroyed rifle up for him to see before tossing the two halves on to the floor and placing her now empty hands on her curvy hips.

"Now are you going to shoot me properly?" she asked, demandingly.  Perhaps it was his growing state of shock.  Perhaps it was the fact that she had already destroyed more than two hundred dollars' worth of his stock.  Or perhaps it was because he couldn't deny such a beautiful young woman.  Whatever the reason, Phil obliged her by firing off another shot, this time aiming for her left thigh.   He definitely heard the dull thud of the shot hitting her lovely flesh a fraction of a second before he heard the second impact of the bullet hitting the floor.  Looking down at the spent slug, he saw it was squashed almost flat, as if it had been fired into a block of solid steel.  He glanced back at the girl's leg.  Nothing.  Not a scratch.

"Oh my God..." he muttered.  His hands began to tremble.  "Who... what... the fuck are you?"

"My name's Kate." the girl answered with a smile, her hands never moving from her hips.  "Now shoot me again.  A little higher this time."

Somewhere in the back of Phil's mind, a fuse blew.  It was all too much.  A stunningly attractive girl wearing the most revealing of tight outfits who apparently could break padlocks with her fingers and snap rifles in two with her bare hands!  A girl who seemed to be completely bulletproof!  Things he couldn't understand terrified him.  She terrified him.  He shot her three more times in quick succession, raising his aim slightly each time.  The first pinged off her flat abdomen, the second struck the exposed portion of her left breast making the delightful flesh bounce almost imperceptively and the third ricocheted noisily off her lower jaw.  All three bullets fell, squashed and bent, to the ground.  The girl just smiled.

"Oh, shit, no!" cried Phil.

 

The stakes are raised

"That was much better." the girl announced.  "Now try it with one of these." With a sweep of her hand, she indicated the wall of rifles.  The storekeeper's eyes grew huge and his jaw dropped open but he didn't move, his pistol still clasped in his shaking hands.  He still had one shot left in his chamber.  Taking careful aim, fighting against the tremors running throughout his body, he lined up the barrel of his gun with the space between the incredible young woman's lovely brown eyes and pulled the trigger.  He had a good aim, but not when he was trembling so violently.  The bullet went an inch to the left of where he'd intended, smacking straight into the girl's right eyeball.  A flattened lump of metal bounced off her undamaged retina and fell halfway between the two of them.

"I said use one of the bigger guns." She sounded annoyed.  "I'm bored with that little one now.  I want something I can actually feel."  Her words only added to his inner turmoil.  He started to back away from the counter towards a doorway in the back wall.  Then he broke into a run, hoping to dart into his back room - not a very detailed plan, but his only intention was to increase the distance between himself and the young woman.  He'd managed about three steps when he felt something like a strong breeze behind him.  It almost knocked him off his feet, but he just about succeeded to maintain his balance and continued to run forward.

Suddenly, he felt his entire body being yanked into the air.  One moment he was running, the next his soles were two feet above the floor.  Something had caught the back of his trousers.  Something strong enough to support his weight.  He knew what it was before he looked round and got visual confirmation.  The girl had - incredibly - moved so quickly that she had caught up with him in less than two seconds.  Even more remarkably, she had grabbed hold of his pants with one hand and hoisted him into the air as if he weighed no more than a paper drinking cup.  Now his fear became panic.  His legs thrashed helplessly at the air, his arms frantically sought something to hold or to hit, but there was nothing.  "Oh God!  Oh fuck!" he spluttered.

"Shut up!" the girl commanded, still suspending him with her single slender arm.  She was walking now, carrying his frame with apparent ease as her lovely long legs carried the two of them around the counter back into the centre of the shop.  Phil's whole body swung like a pendulum with every stride she took.  Without warning, she let go and he fell, sprawling at her bare feet.  "Now," she said, "do as you're told and shoot me with the big guns."   He started to climb to his feet.  "I'm waiting." she prompted.   He took a nervous step backwards away from her.  "Come on!" she snarled.

Recalling his futile attempt to run from the girl, Phil decided on the only other course of resistance available to him.  Balling up his right hand into a fist he drove it with all his might towards the exposed strip of silky skin around her navel.  He expected to feel her abdomen yielding to his knuckles, but discovered instead that her sexy, subtly-muscled belly was far firmer and far less giving than a brick wall.  A split second before his scream of agony left his lips, a series of crunching sounds could be heard as every bone in his hand shattered against the impossible hardness of her flat stomach.  He clutched his ruined hand to his middle and rolled on the floor, the pain bringing hot tears to his eyes.  The girl, meanwhile, showed no reaction to being punched, other than placing her hands on her hips once more and smiling down at him as he writhed around.

Stepping over him, she tore a pair of rifles from their wall mountings and dropped them by his prostrate form.  Then she gracefully lifted a single foot and placed it gently on his chest, pinning him in place.  He grabbed her ankle with his uninjured hand and tried to push her leg away, but for all his struggles, he couldn't move her so much as a hairsbreadth.  "If you don't shoot me with these within ten seconds," she warned, indicating the two firearms by his sides with a nod of her head, "I'll crush you completely."

"P...Please!  No!" he begged.  She pressed down a little with her toes, driving all the air from his lungs.

"Ten.. Nine... Eight..." she began.

He fought to draw enough breath to speak.  The pain in his hand was unbearable, but the fear of his imminent demise was even more urgent.  "I... I.. can't.  Th...They're...not...lo..lo...loaded." he spluttered.

She lifted her foot.  "You've got sixty seconds to load them.  Move!" she ordered.  Realizing that he had no choice, he pushed his terror and his agony to the back of his mind and gingerly picked up the two rifles with his good hand, taking them over to the counter as quickly as he could.  It wasn't easy loading the guns with only one hand, but by using his arms and his mouth he somehow managed it.  When he was finished he looked at the girl, making no effort to disguise his panic.  "What are you waiting for?" she demanded.  "Shoot me with them."

It was almost as hard to fire the first rifle one-handed as it had been to load the thing, but, as ever, fear of death made the extremely difficult very possible.  He squeezed off the first shot, the recoil sending him staggering back half a pace.  The big bullet slammed against the girl's abdominal muscles with a loud thud near where he'd tried to punch her.  It proved about as effective as his fist had, the lead squashing into an almost flat disc against her impenetrable skin before falling to the floor.  He looked at her in utter amazement.  "Not bad." she said.  "Now do it again, right here."  She pointed to her thick pouty lips.  When he hesitated, she added "Or die.  It's up to you."

Aiming with one good hand was a real challenge, but he had enough gun-handling experience to rise to it.  The other problem was the whole idea of shooting someone in the face.  Although he'd used firearms since he was a child, he'd never actually fired on another person with intent to kill.  Certainly not an unarmed woman.   With the high-powered rifle in his hand, a shot in the mouth would leave the victim with no face - probably no head either.  But he knew now that his target was no ordinary person.  In fact, even though the gun was in his hands, he was the only one whose life was in danger.  The sweat was pouring down his face as he pulled the trigger.

Kate used her wonderful abilities to make time appear to slow so that she could watch the big bullet leisurely floating out of the rifle's barrel.  Gauging its trajectory, she only had to move a tiny bit to her right to align the on-coming slug with her waiting mouth.  Then she clenched her teeth and pushed out her lips, waiting for the moment of impact.  When it came, it was worth the effort.  The rounded tip of the deadly lump of supersonic lead  smashed into her front teeth with a violent clang.  The bullet's huge momentum pushed its back end forward even as her incredible invulnerability held the front completely immobile.  With nowhere to go, the slug discharged its energy by wadding up against the impenetrable wall of her teeth, expanding outwards as it decreased in length.

The hot metal pressed against her lips as it was squashed almost flat, pushing against her sexy mouth with enough force to kill an elephant.  But it didn't kill Kate.  It didn't even bruise her.  To her the tremendous impact was little more than a warm metallic kiss.  A kiss that ended far too soon as the shot ran out of momentum and the deformed, flattened lump of lead dropped between her feet.  She glanced down and saw a lovely print of her lips and teeth in the cooling metal and smiled.  The storekeeper just stared back at her, obviously stunned to see her flawless straight white teeth and thick red lips completely unmarked.  "Now that was more like it!" she told him.  In truth, the pleasant sensation of being kissed by high-powered munitions was wearing off, but it had been enough to awaken her inner desires.

Phil held on to the rifle and simply stared at the girl he'd just shot in the mouth.  What the hell was she?  All his instincts told him to get the hell away from her, but he knew that if he tried, she would catch him and then... who knew what she might do to him.  How could he fight back against a girl who was completely bulletproof?  Whose stomach was as hard as steel, whose soft-looking lips were tougher than a speeding rifle-shot?  He looked at those lips; there was certainly nothing to show they'd just taken a direct bullet-hit.  The girl was sensuously running the tip of her inviting tongue over their fleshy perfection, like getting shot had turned her on or something.  What the fuck was he dealing with here?  What would she want him to do next?

She was leaning forwards very slightly, her heavy, round breasts straining against the material of her tight shirt, threatening to fall out of the garment altogether at any moment.  He'd never seen so much firm cleavage before in his life.  Even in his state of fear and confusion the sight drove him wild with lust.  The girl brought her hand up to that wonderful chest and began to stroke the exposed portion of her left breast with a finger tip.  Her lips parted and she opened her jaws a little in a clear display of arousal.  It was all Phil could do not to orgasm there and then.  He knew what she was going to ask him, but the sound of her words still sent a chill running the length of his body. "Put the next one right here." she invited, circling a tiny area of perfect womanly flesh with her finger.

He was on to the second rifle now, the first having discharged its two bullets.   By now, Phil knew that his ammunition was wasted on the impenetrable target that was this girl's perfect body. Not that he minded squinting through the rifle's sights at his latest objective; he could happily have stared at the girl's large creamy breast for the rest of his life.  But he had his instructions and he was far too terrified of the consequences of disobedience to hesitate any longer.  Carefully, he squeezed the trigger.  The gun fired, the kick-back forcing him to instinctively close his eyes for a split-second but even if he had been able to keep them open, his brain wouldn't have been quick enough to follow the bullet's trajectory.  All he knew was that he had aimed at the girl and shot the rifle and she hadn't moved.  There wasn't even a scratch on the target area - the exposed flesh of her magnificent right tit.

Unlike the storekeeper, Kate possessed a brain that was easily capable of tracking the path of the shot.  She could have lazily reached up and plucked the little lump of lead out of the air if she had wanted to.  But she hadn't.  She wanted the bullet to strike her on her flawless generous mound and to caress her erotic silken flesh.  Again, unlike the storekeeper, Kate was able to keep her eyes wide open all the while.  She watched her lovely breast dimple ever so slightly for a moment as the bullet pressed with massive force into its wonderful curve.  She saw the supersonic "lethal" metal projectile crumple up in a hopeless battle with her womanly perfection as her flesh refused to yield to it.  Then she saw the tiny dimple disappear as her mound returned to its customary roundness, pushing the spent slug away from its feminine glory with enough force make the flattened shot travel several yards to the side before it fell to the floor.

The sight of her big breast - supposedly her softest and most vulnerable area - effortlessly absorbing the force of a rifle bullet filled Kate with a tremendous sense of power.  Before her recent transformation, her beauty alone had often given her a measure of control over men and she had often used the lure of her fabulous chest to her advantage.  But there had always been the knowledge that most men were stronger than her; that she could only go so far flaunting her charms before that sense of control was put at risk.  Now, no man could ever harm her no matter how much she provoked him.

She still had the power that came with her desirability - in fact, this had only increased as her body and her bust in particular had become so much firmer.  But added to that now was her enormous physical superiority.  She was thousands of times stronger and faster than any "mere" man.  She could make them want her with every fibre of their beings and all the while there wouldn't be a thing they could do about it.  She had all the power and all the control.   The storekeeper was a perfect example of her new-found status:  he was clearly terrified of her (even though she'd only given him a few hints of her abilities) but despite that he had been unable to stop himself leering like a schoolboy when she had shown him a little bit of tit.  A bit of tit which had then stopped a bullet without showing the slightest sign of impact!

No wonder she felt like a goddess.  Her dominance was so overwhelming, so... complete.   Her lips parted sensuously in a wide, bright smile.  Her eyes twinkled.  The feeling of absolute power was making her increasingly horny.  Languidly, she began to stride towards the storekeeper, her hips swaying and her generous breasts bouncing very slightly with every step.  Her heightened senses detected an increase in the speed of his breathing and heart rate.  Her nostrils were assaulted by a change in the tone of his scent as his body continued to betray his arousal while her incredible powers of vision allowed her to see his erection throbbing beneath his clothes despite the intervening display counter.

 

Hitting the spot

She loved the effect she was having on him.  Stopping about halfway to him, she looked him straight in the eye as she slowly unfastened one of the few remaining buttons of her shirt, exposing even more of her magnetic chest, making him visibly shake with impossible levels of lust and terror.  He stared as though hypnotized by her curves as she deliberately leant toward him, pushing her breasts outwards so that most of the two mounds were exposed, making him almost pant like a dog.  Then, she brought a single finger up to her chest, slowly running her finger nail up and down the length of the awe-inspiring valley of her cleavage.  Speaking softly, she teased "Guess where you're going to put the next shot, lover."

Phil swallowed hard.  The girl's display of her incredibly sexy body was threatening to bring him to orgasm where he stood at any instant.   That was enough to blow his mind even without her demonstrations of impossible strength, let alone her ability to bounce bullets from her flawless skin.  And now she wanted him to shoot her right between those two magnificent globes from only a couple of yards' distance!  He knew he had no choice but to do as he was told.  He took aim, focusing on the centre of the most erotic chest he'd ever seen.  As he squeezed the trigger he wondered how much more of this he could take before his mind exploded.

It wasn't a good shot.  The poor guy's nerves were obviously so worn that he couldn't even point his gun straight.  Kate had to dip her shoulder and move sharply to her left to ensure that the bullet was headed exactly where she wanted it to go. The effort was worth it.  The delicious feeling of the hot metal trying to bury itself in the space between her breasts spread rapidly over the front of her body and she loved the way one well-aligned bullet could stimulate both of her mounds at once.  But the feeling was short lived because the slug's energy was rapidly spent in its futile battle against her chest. The further the bullet traveled into her cleavage, the more the gap between her breasts grew smaller, her flesh squeezing the lead from either side, slowing it and eventually stopping it altogether.

She could feel the warm metal wedged snugly between her mounds.  The look on the storekeeper's face showed that he could see it in there too.  Kate decided to put on a little show for him.  She brought her hands together over her flat stomach, her upper arms pressing against the sides of her breasts, pushing them together.   The impossible strength of her slender arms squeezed her chest with incalculable force, but her beautiful breasts were well able to withstand.  However, the bullet trapped between them was nowhere near as resistant.  The pressure generated by her arms was transferred through her mounds as they closed around the slug.  First the lead was squeezed flat as though it were made of wet tissue paper. As the pressure increased, the metal melted and then boiled away, forced out of existence by the power of a slim and beautiful girl's arms and breasts.

Of course, Phil hadn't been able to watch the bullet's flight.  Neither could his brain register the girl's movements as she aligned herself with it.  All he saw was the briefest of blurs as she suddenly "reappeared" a foot to the left of where she had been standing before becoming a smear.  But he did hear the dull thud as the projectile came into contact with her exposed flesh and he did see - to his utter amazement - the slightly deformed end of the slug lodged deep within the beautiful, erotic confines of her cleavage.  The sight of her wonderful breasts would have been stimulating enough.  The realization that those two glorious globes were sufficiently resilient and strong to catch a speeding bullet blew his mind.

Yet the girl was not finished showing him the "power" of her chest.  With the bullet wedged tight in that magical valley, she then sexily hugged herself with her forearms as he had seen girls do a thousand times in the various types of soft-core pornography he enjoyed.  This had the immediate effect of making her breasts even more prominent, causing his heart to start pounding in his throat.  It also pushed her mounds closer to each other, making her cleavage appear still more dramatic. Then something incredible happened.  As she pressed her breasts together, the lump of lead stuck between them actually began to deform.  He could clearly see the metal flattening in there as she casually squeezed herself.  She was crushing the bullet, exerting untold thousands of pounds of pressure, with nothing more than her gorgeous big tits!

Phil felt a tightening sensation build in his groin and knew he was on the point of losing control.  Despite the pain in his damaged hand and his general state of terror he couldn't help himself.  She was just so unbelievably sexy and so erotically powerful.  As she continued to hug herself, her generous round breasts moved ever closer together and he saw a drop of shiny liquid fall from between them and realized that she was exerting enough force to melt the solid lead.  It had to be hundreds of degrees hot, but she showed no hint of any discomfort.  In fact, she looked like she was enjoying herself.  Suddenly he saw that she had pressed her mounds tightly against each other.  Something in there glowed for a moment, then there was a little puff of vapor, then,,, nothing.  This beautiful girl had reduced solid metal to nothing by squeezing it in her cleavage!  He couldn't contain himself any longer.  His organ began to spasm in huge, painful bursts.

As Kate expected, her display proved too much for the store keeper who reached for the counter in front of him to steady himself while his body shuddered violently with his no-more-to-be-denied orgasm.  His eyes rolled back briefly and a low moan left his dry lips as a stain spread across the front of his trousers.  "Oh God..." he panted between convulsions "I'm sorry... Please... don't.... Oh!.... Please...."

Kate tutted, glancing briefly at the ceiling in a gesture of boredom.  "Doesn't take much to pop your cork, does it?" she commented.  "Well, now it's my turn."  She looked down at the glass display counter that stood between them and, pointing at a couple of grenades, asked "How do these work?"

 

The unwilling companion

Phil had almost recovered his breath.  His composure on the other hand was unlikely to come back any time soon.  The humiliation of soiling himself with his seed had made him even more flustered than before but his survival instinct was strong enough to react to the amazing girl's latest declaration of her intentions.  The grenades!   She couldn't!  "No!" he shouted, his voice cracking.  "Please no!  You'll kill us both!"   The girl just smiled.  She reached for him with one hand, taking hold of his collar with slender fingers he already knew possessed fantastic strength.  He was hardly even surprised as she lifted him fluidly off the ground with that single arm, holding his weight without the merest hint of strain on her face.  He brought his hand to hers and struggled for a while to dislodge her grip, but he soon realized he was wasting his time and gave up.

"Here's the deal." she announced.  "You show me how to use those things and I'll give you enough time to clear off before they go bang.  Otherwise -" In a lightening movement she flashed her free hand through the top of the counter, shattering the thick glass with her fingers before casually curling them around one of the two grenades, "- I'll just have to work it out for myself."

"But... my shop..."

"But..." she mimicked his stutter. "Your life!" and she shook him very gently with her hand so that his arms and legs flew helplessly about him and he screamed.

"OK.  OK.   Please!  Put me down!  I'll show you!  I'll show you!"

"That's a good boy." she patronized.  "So, how do they work?"  She made no effort to release her grasp of him or to lower him back towards the floor.

"They... they need fuses first."

She loosened her fingers and he fell in an awkward heap behind the counter. "You'd better get the fuses then." she said flatly.

Phil almost ran into the back room to get the fuses.  It took him longer than usual to fit them because of his injured hand, and he cut his other palm on broken glass as he pulled the two grenades out of his smashed counter but he managed to do it.  He looked at the incredible girl, meekly holding the primed grenades out to her  "Please don't hurt me." he pleaded.

"How do I work them?" she responded, ignoring his plea.

"You.. you pull out the pins and let the little levers spring up. Then you've got ten seconds... But please... let me go first!"  There were tears in his eyes but he was too desperate to be ashamed.  He dared not move without the girl's express permission to do so, yet he knew that being anywhere near her in the next few minutes would prove fatal.  Trembling, he turned his supplicant face towards her own implacably beautiful visage, waiting for her to give him the word to go.

"Oh you poor thing!" said the girl, her voice laden with mock concern.  "You look absolutely terrified.  Would you like to go outside?"

"Yes!  Yes!  Please! Let me go!" sobbed Phil, his eyes ping-ponging between her face and the two live grenades in her delicate-looking hands.  The incredible young woman's lovely lips parted to reveal her dazzling smile once again.   Slowly, she brought her left hand and the explosive weapon it contained up towards her chest, sensuously pushing the grenade a little into her wonderful cleavage so that the bottom half inch of it disappeared from view.  Then she opened her fingers and removed her hand, the bomb now wedged firmly between her breasts.  Phil swallowed hard.

Kate was loving the show she was putting on.  Continuing with her teasing, she glanced knowingly down at the grenade sticking out of her chest and then back up at her companion once again. "Are you absolutely sure you wouldn't like to stick around?" she taunted.   Once again he protested, pleading in the most pathetic way she could have imagined.  Seeing the fear she caused only reminded her of the power she possessed and that, in turn, stirred her libido anew.  Her right palm, still clutching the second grenade made its own way towards the waistband of her shorts. Before she was even fully aware of what she was doing, she had plunged the thing inside her tiny lower garment so that only the pin was left outside the material.  Her two hands, now free, hung casually by her sides.

Lost in the pleasant sensation of the cold, hard and textured metal pressing against her pelvic area, she almost failed to notice the shopkeeper's eyes growing even wider still as he stared at the bulge in her shorts.  "Well," she smiled at him, "if you're determined not to catch the show, I suppose you'd better go now."

Phil didn't need a second invitation.  He knew that the girl was about to detonate two grenades - one between her glorious tits and the other against her pussy.  He knew that it would be the most incredible sight of his life.  But he also knew that it would definitely be the last sight of his life, too.  This babe might be some kind of superhuman goddess, but he was flesh and bone and he had no chance of surviving the twin explosions unless he got the hell out of there.   She stood almost directly between him and the door, and he knew he would have to pass close by her to get out.  The thought of getting so near to her was scary, but the idea of remaining where he stood was unthinkable.  Besides, she seemed so absorbed in the task of preparing the two charges that he figured she wouldn't even notice him leave.

He started to run towards the door, taking a small detour to steer around the beautiful girl.  Convinced he had passed her, the street fixed firmly in his view, he was shocked to feel a sudden, terrifyingly sharp pain in his left wrist.  Even as he screamed out in surprise and agony, he knew what had happened.  It was the girl.  The crushing, burning feeling in his forearm was being caused by her slender, feminine fingers.  She'd merely reached out as he sprinted around her and caught hold of his trailing arm.  He turned to confirm his fears and saw, through the tears of pain in his eyes, that it was indeed true.   She was holding on to him - and tight enough to make him fear that his bones would not hold out much longer.  Desperately, he tried to pull his arm free of her casual three-fingers-and-thumb grip.  New agonies tore through his body as he pulled against her hard enough to dislocate his shoulder with an audible "pop", but her lovely hand and its terrible grip remained utterly unaffected by his struggles.

Kate smiled at the poor shopkeeper as he fought frantically to free himself from her effortless one-handed hold.  He was pleading with her once again now, saline drops flowing from his eyes and down his cheeks as he abandoned any hope of retaining his dignity.  She had reduced him to a wreck.  The sight of his helpless begging and struggling brought home to her afresh the extent of both her superiority and her dominance over him.  She realized how easy it would be for her to hold him in place while she detonated the two grenades stuffed inside her clothing.  She knew too that the explosions, which would doubtless kill him instantly, would cause her no discomfort whatsoever.  She quite literally held his life in her hand.  For his part, well, he couldn't so much as singe a single eyebrow-hair on her perfect face.

With her mind full of her sense of unlimited power, Kate's arousal soared to new heights.  She knew she wanted to feel the two bombs exploding against her flesh and soon.  The only question was what she should do with her reluctant guest, the storekeeper.  After a brief consideration, she decided to let him live.  After all, there was no doubt what the grenades would do to him and she had no morbid fascination to see his body torn apart right next to her.  Nor did she particularly want to wait for him to run out of the shop.  Compared to her, he was just far, far too slow.

Her solution involved keeping her superhuman grip on his arm as she flicked her wrist almost unthinkingly towards the front window, letting go of him as she did so.  A yell was just forming in his throat when his feet left the ground.  Kate's gentle toss sent his entire body flying, parallel to the floor, straight through the glass windows at the front of the shop without slowing him down.  His trajectory carried him over the sidewalk, his arms and legs flailing helplessly, and across the road to finally crash down on the pavement on the far side, rolling uncontrollably for several yards as he hit the ground until, at last, he came to rest as he hit a brick wall.

From inside the shop, the sexy slim brunette admired her handiwork for an instant.  Her enhanced senses detected that he was still breathing and that his heart was still beating.  Then she put him out of her mind once and for all.  She was ready.

 

Big Bang

She could see the smashed glass and spent, mutilated bullets all around that lay in witness to her power.  It was no longer a case of her feeling like a goddess.  Now, she knew that she truly was a goddess.  And she was about to prove that fact by detonating not one, but two, live grenades against her warm, smooth and flawless skin.  Not just any part of her skin either.  The two devices were pressed up tight against her most sensitive and intimate skin.  Against what were supposed to be the most vulnerable parts of her body.  One nestled so securely in her chest between her two glorious mounds, the other lay wedged between the waistband of her shorts and her shapely pelvis.  That was where she believed they could give her the most pleasure.  Even she - a goddess - was trembling very slightly in wonderful anticipation as each of her hands made their respective way towards the two pins whose removal would bring about the fabulous sensations she craved.

From each of her palms, a delicate-looking finger curled its way through one of the two loops of metal.  Both of the bombs were held fast by her incredible body and neither moved in any way as she extracted the pins, dropping them at her lovely bare feet.  Then all she had to do was wait.   The fuses were set for ten seconds but to her, it felt like a lifetime.

Finally, the temporary silence of the gun-shop was broken.  It was the grenade tucked into her shorts which detonated first, the other one following about a twentieth of a second later.  Had the shopkeeper been conscious as he lay on the far side of the street, his brain would not have been able to distinguish the two explosions.  Kate's mind and senses, on the other hand, were vastly superior.  She was able to observe, to feel - even to savour - the events of each and every one of the fifty milliseconds that elapsed between the two bangs.

First, she saw the metal against her crotch tearing apart inside her tiny lower garment. Then she felt the tremendous heat of the blast on her pelvis - heat which felt like catching the sun in spring, but which in truth was sufficient to disintegrate her shorts.  After that, came the good bit  - the countless shards of razor sharp, red-hot metal bouncing off her invulnerable body, striking her groin, the inside of her thighs and, most delightfully, the entrance to her goddess' sex.  Each impact added a new ecstasy to the growing crescendo of pure physical bliss in her loins until she began to feel her body slipping beyond her control.

It was at that point, half a tenth of a second after the grenade in her shorts had gone off and with the debris of that explosion still pinging wonderfully around her crotch and thighs, that the other charge fired.

She had a great view of the metal casing that had lain so snuggly in her cleavage up to that moment.  She watched fascinated as the grenade tried to blow apart sideways only to find that there was nowhere for it to go.  On either side of it a wall of impenetrable and immoveable silky breast-flesh completely contained the explosion.  As the wave of scorching heat burst over her, turning her top to ash and stimulating her like the most erotic touch of an expert Casanova, she could see chunks of metal pressing hopelessly against the inside of her mounds, trying with incalculable force to tear through her soft femininity but failing utterly to leave even so much as a mark on her beautiful skin.

Meanwhile, her sternum proved no more accommodating to the shrapnel that attempted to escape her bosom in that direction.  The result was countless chunks of exploded grenade, each one deadly sharp, heated to hundreds of degrees and flying at thousands of miles an hour, bouncing about between her breasts.  These pieces of steel impacted with her chest again and again, until she was crying out, driven to a sexual frenzy by the endless caresses.

Just then, a small portion of grenade found the only way out of her cleavage, rocketing straight upwards between her mounds and striking her face with enough force to kill a dozen men.  With a clang audible above the last moments of the second explosion, the missile cannoned off her full lower lip, leaving no scar, but a ripple of delight that reminded her of a brief, passionate kiss.  A simple kiss that acted as a trigger for the release of the orgasm that was threatening to tear her apart.

The blast of the twin detonation had now spread outwards and had reached the walls of the shop.   What was left of the glass in the front window dissolved in a shower of tiny shards that reached out as far as the unconscious shopkeeper on the other side of the road.  Huge sections of the walls either side of  her burst outwards, mere bricks and cement unable to contain the force.  Only the wall behind her - protected by her slim, beautiful and indestructible body - remained intact.

Seeing walls succumb to an explosion which she had not only survived from a much closer range, but actually was still enjoying, tipped Kate over the edge.  Her eyes rolled back and her lovely lips and perfect teeth separated slightly.  A low moan passed through her throat and her whole body began to tremble violently as she finally came.  Lost now to the overwhelming sensations, she slumped onto all fours, unaware that her pretty bare knees and delicate palms had smashed four, separate, six-inch depressions in the floor.

She rocked back and forwards, letting out sexy groans.  After a few seconds, the shop's ceiling, now lacking much of the support it needed, buckled and nosily collapsed.  Huge chunks of masonry bounced from her now naked body.  A twelve foot long section of joist crashed down on her, hitting her rear, balancing for a moment and then falling to the side with the rest of the debris.  Another steel beam came down squarely on the top of her head, clanging loudly and rebounding an inch or two from her far tougher skull before hitting her once again on its way to the ground.  She didn't even notice.

As her orgasm began to subside, a large part of the upper floor of the building came crashing down on top of her.  Bricks, plaster, wood, pipes, steel beams and furniture rained down upon Kate, quickly burying her beneath several tons of rubble.  She felt no pain, no discomfort.  Only surprise to find herself at the bottom of a huge pile of debris.  Without waiting for the vertical onslaught to stop, she merely stood up on the spot, enormous piles of broken building shifting as her body touched them; the stone, wood and metal brushed aside as though it were weightless.

She waded towards the street through the wreckage.  Although she was knee deep in it, the rubble didn't slow her stride in the slightest as she stepped out onto the road, broken glass and metal shrapnel crunching as she crushed it like dry earth beneath her bare feet.  Turning to the left and then the right, she saw five or six people who'd obviously been caught in the explosions slowly standing up.  The cuts and bruises on their faces and bodies were a marked contrast to the flawless, blemish-free nature of her own flesh.  Kate laughed.   She laughed with the joy generated by her orgasm and she laughed at this latest demonstration of her awesome power.

More people were beginning to appear on the street, running towards the scene of the blast.  One by one, they saw the grinning, slim, big-breasted and completely naked girl standing apparently completely unharmed next to the remains of the gun-shop building.  One by one they stopped in their tracks and just stared.  In the distance, the sound of rapidly approaching emergency services vehicle sirens could be heard.  The stunning brunette seemed surprised by all the attention.  "What's wrong with you people?" she asked, slightly amused.  "Haven't you ever seen a naked supergirl before?"

 

And the others?

Kate might not have been interested but in fact, there were two other naked supergirls within twenty miles of her at that moment.  One of them was sitting on a boulder by the side of a deserted highway, her hands covering her face as large, hot drops of salty water dripped through her fingers onto the dusty ground.  Had Kirsty looked, her super-vision might have spotted the smoke on the horizon that still rose from the petrol station she had destroyed with her now tear-filled eyes.

That scene, however, was nothing compared to the carnage at sea that Caroline had left behind.  Of course, there was not a trace of those events on her.  Not a bruise or a scratch.  The ocean had long since washed away the dirt from her lovely body but the mess on the deck of the submarine could never be erased. As she passed over the continental shelf, she recalled the wonderful feeling of being worshipped by so many men.  She would have to do that again sometime.

 

Conceptfan, Jun. 2003.