The Super Models


Chapter 4




AUTHOR'S NOTE: All of my stories have been written for an exclusively adult audience. They contain descriptions of violence, some of it of a sexual nature. They also include other sexually explicit depictions. They are in no way suitable for minors. Furthermore it is against the law in many parts of the world for this type of material to be read, either by minors or by minors and adults. Please make sure you are not acting contrary to local legislation before reading on and please do not read any further if you find this type of material offensive in any way. This is a work of fiction and any similarity between the characters and events depicted and any people/events in real-life, past or present, is purely co-incidence. A number of the characters and events portrayed are inspired by, or based upon, existing works of fiction. Although I have made every effort to keep plagiarism to a minimum, I must acknowledge a debt of thanks to the many artists and writers who have shared their talents with the public. I've released my stories to the public domain to make sure that as many people as possible who share my interest in this type of fiction can enjoy them. Please feel free to re-distribute them by whatever means you like, provided you respect the following points: (1) The stories will be re-distributed exactly as they are - unchanged and unedited. (2) No other person will claim authorship of any of these stories or any part of them. (3) The stories will not be distributed for profit, either on their own or as part of a group of other works. Lastly, thank you for your interest in this story. I hope you enjoy it!



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.