"The A-Teen". Superpowered female fiction by Conceptfan.

Job Number 1 - "One Pint"

My bank was held up, they stole a million dollars. The small ad in the paper just said "Someone take something of yours? Want it back? Email me."

What did I have to lose? I emailed. The reply mentioned a fee: "A pint of your sperm". It was a prank! I deleted the mail. But then today, I received a package containing $1000 cash and this note: "Goods recovered. Eighth Street Car Park, fourth floor at midnight for the rest." Forgetting all about the ridiculous "fee" and desperate for the money, I just had to check it out.

There was no-one else in the car park when I arrived. I sat in my car and waited. Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the side window. I hadn't heard or seen anyone approach. I was doubly shocked when I turned and saw the fresh, beautiful features of a young girl. Her clear green eyes and flawless complexion were evident even under the sodium lights. I remember thinking "Wow, she's young - no more than 17 at most." Her lips were full, and crimson, but she didn't look like she'd used any makeup. Teenage model material for sure.

She was bending to look into the car. Her tight, low-cut spaghetti-strap tank top left quite an area of her chest visible. I couldn't help but glance briefly down at the expanse of firm cleavage on view. She really was quite a girl. If I'd been half my age...

I wound down the window. She thrust s sports bag through it. "There's your money." she said. I checked and it looked about right.

"How.. did you...?"

"My fee." she cut me off, holding out a petite, blemish-free, manicured palm.

"Ah, yes. About that..." I began. There was a creaking metallic groan and suddenly, the car door came free of its hinges. It took me a while to realise the girl was now holding it in her hand. She tossed it over her shoulder and it flew as far as the end of the car park. I was about to get angry when I saw her hand flash towards me. Something gripped me amazingly tightly. It was that same, small hand, clutched around my throat. It was hard to breathe. I tried to pull the hand away. It wouldn't budge. I tried to dig my nails into the smooth, slender arm it was attached to. No luck there either.

Then, to my shock, I found myself being irresistibly pulled out of the car. She stood up, lifting her arm, and I was lifted with it. All of me. Until my feet were dangling off the ground. I felt like a child's doll. The girl looked calm and relaxed, like my weight was no strain for her single arm. She pulled me close to her lovely face and said: "I'll give you three hours to get back here with a pint of your sperm as we agreed. If you fail, I will find you and kill you." She released me and I fell to the ground at her feet. Her legs were bare but for a pair of trainers and a tiny, ultra-tight pair of shorts. The flesh between was glorious. "Well, move then, Earthling!" she said coldly, from on high.

I climbed into my car, started the engine and drove off, with no door beside me. I was terrified. The girl's amazing strength... the way she called me "Earthling"... Her threat. How did she manage to recover the money? By beating up the robbers? Killing them?

I had no intention of providing the requested fluid. What was this, some teenager's kinky game? Besides, three hours wasn't enough. But the girl's threats felt very real. I had to hide. Somewhere better than the robbers had found, protected by something more resilient than a car door. There was only one place. Here. Sealed inside the vault at my bank. Nothing can get to me here.

 

I gave bank guy the usual three hours. When he didn't show I went to find him. I can identify any individual male of the species by its distinctive odour. It was no challenge for me to follow his trail from the car park to the bank building. I knew he was inside. The doors were locked. I kicked them open. I followed his scent, smashing through another set of thick doors until I came to the outside of the vault. Did he really think I couldn't get to him in there?

 

What the hell? Is this an earthquake? The whole vault is shaking. What’s that creaking sound? It’s getting louder. Got to cover my ears. It’s unbearable, like the very metal I’m surrounded by is screaming!

Oh God, the wall to my left is moving… It’s.. it’s bulging inwards. The sound is awful. A bubble is appearing in the steel… no two. They’re getting bigger… there’s something familiar about that shape! The metal is glowing red-hot. It’s beginning to tear like molten cheese. The noise! Wait… I can see something bursting through. Are those….? Fuck, yes! Breasts! Big, round, sexy breasts in a tight tank top, bursting through the steel!

They’re through. I recognize them of course, from the car park. The rest of the body is coming too, now. How is she doing that? Just pressing herself through the thick metal, her glorious body bending and crushing steel like it was wet cardboard! She’s busted a huge hole… now she’s inside the vault! Fuck, she’s beautiful…

She’s reaching for me, picking me up with just one hand like I was weightless. Oh shit! What’s she going to do… She’s tearing my trousers off… And my underpants! She’s going to speak…

Her voice is commanding, yet so sexy. “You’re dead.” she states. “Once I’ve collected my fee.” She reaches her perfect fingers towards my trembling, now naked groin...

  

Conceptfan, Oct. 2005.

Job Number 2 - "Perfect Timing"

A priest lead the way. Richard Jones followed close behind, flanked by two armed wardens with two more behind him. His feet and hands were chained as they brought him to the chamber room where the prison Governor, a technician and four National Guardsmen, were waiting. Along with the gas chamber itself.

The priest left. The wardens strapped him onto the chair inside the chamber and then stepped out. The technician sealed the door and nodded to the Governor who hesitated, enjoying his instant of supreme power. Then he raised his head and said "Proceed."

The technician reached for a lever.

Suddenly, the wall behind the National Guardsmen exploded inwards into the room, killing the quartet and half-burying them under piles of displaced brick. The wardens grabbed their pistols as the technician and the Governor dived for cover. Plaster dust swirled in the air as all those who could still move strained to look at the breech in the wall. The corridor behind was littered with prison staff, some bleeding, others with limbs splayed out at unnatural angles. None of them were moving.

In the middle foreground of the extraordinary scene, framed by the newly-smashed hole, stood a girl. A young girl.

Her beauty competed for shock value with the manner of her entrance. She was too perfect to be seen all at once. She could only be scanned, slowly, perfection-by-perfection. Her trainer-clad feet rested amidst piles of fresh rubble. Then came her slender ankles and stunningly shapely bare, flawless legs. These flared into a pair of round, solid-looking thighs which, in turn, disappeared beneath tiny shorts which clung to their wearer's equally tiny waist.  Above that, a few inches of immaculate, smooth, flat midriff, containing her deep navel; inviting like a cool dark oasis in the centre of a featureless desert plain.

Then her silky flesh vanished from view under her upper garment, a white spaghetti-strap tank-top that followed the marvellous shape of the body it adorned with impressive accuracy. The material was stretched, almost to tearing, by her two, big, outstandingly proud and firm, exquisitely rounded breasts. Each of these was crowned in its centre by a large, prominent nipple, its outline clearly visible. The top was cut low, and much of the glorious flesh of the upper portions of her chest, not to mention a generous and devastatingly erotic expanse of her cleavage, was on display.

Hard as it was to continue the scan of her beauty thereafter, those that managed saw her slender neck and her beautifully feminine features; two full, sexy lips separated in an ecstatic smile that showcased two rows of dazzling, perfect teeth, an immaculately shaped and proportioned nose and two startlingly bright, green eyes with long thick lashes and subtle, delicately arched brows. The whole, flawless face was crowned and framed by her lustrous hair - dark, long and straight.

Had she not moved, the men in the room might have remained motionless, petrified by her beauty. But she as stepped confidently into the room, the urgency of the situation stirred them into action.

"Freeze!" cried one of the prison warders, pointing his pistol at her remarkable face.

"I am here for Richard Jones. Move aside, Earthlings." she replied in a cool, feminine and authoritative voice, her delighted smile constant all the while.

Those words were more than enough of an invitation to the men to open fire on her. The air filled with the sound of shots... and the sounds of ricochets. The girl merely continued to advance towards the chamber.  Dozens of bullets struck against her stunning body, yet not one penetrated it. Instead, the pellets bounced from her delectable curves, her flawless features and her slender limbs. If she felt any discomfort, she did not register it on her face, nor did she slow her stride in the slightest.

A couple of warders were cut down by bullets that rebounded from the girl. Her grin suggested she was pleased by manner of their deaths. Two small hands flashed out and simultaneously lifted and threw two more men aside. They impacted high against opposite walls and slid down to the ground never to move again. Her eyes twinkled with delight as they followed the corpses’ final movements.

Panicking at the unfolding events, the prison governor extracted his own pistol and pumped out a few shots in the general direction of the amazing girl.

Her hands became a blur for a moment, resolidifying in front of her body, each now holding a slightly squashed bullet which she'd plucked out of the air. Her smile seemed to grow even broader in cruel anticipation as she effortlessly flicked the two bullets, one towards the Governor, the other at the technician. Her twin aims were perfect and deadly. The room fell suddenly silent. The girl’s radiant smile took on an air of arrogant triumph.

She approached the glass-fronted box, thrusting out her fabulous chest and letting her big breasts smash through the front of it. The bullet-proof material seemed to dissolve on contact with her body as she, not slowing, walked right through it. Idly, she brushed a few fragments of glass from her cleavage. She gripped the chair which her target was strapped to and yanked it clear off the floor in a single steel-ripping tug, holding it and the man strapped to it easily in a single hand. Then she carried it back the way she had come, past bodies and smashed walls, out of the prison.

 

 

That night, in a deserted car park, she dropped Richard Jones, whom she'd been carrying by the belt like an oversized briefcase, at thefeet of his brother. "My fee," she demanded, hand outstretched.  Daniel Jones placed a large metal flask onto the small waiting palm. She studied it, as if her eyes and nostrils were penetrating the container...

"A full pint," she pronounced, satisfied. "We are done." She turned and vanished in a blur.

  

Conceptfan, Dec. 2005.

Job Number 3 - "Cement Boots"

"Last chance, Peterson. Where’s the money?" The huge man filled the doorframe.

"Right, yeah. About that...." Peterson started to explain. The big man punched him in the stomach.

"Ooof!" Peterson doubled over. The goon shoved him roughly aside and entered the apartment. Two more big men followed him in, one grabbing Peterson by his arms in a painful full nelson.

"Who’s this?" the first big man demanded, staring at the girl who walked in from another room. The two other unwelcome guests also locked their eyes on her.

She took their breath away. She looked no older than eighteen. Her height - about five foot eight - was the only unremarkable thing about her appearance. She wore trainers on her feet, above which delicate ankles gave way to long, shapely and smooth legs. The three goons followed the silky legs upwards until they came to a glimpse of silky firm thighs beneath the girl’s tiny shorts.

The shorts were tight, clinging to her pert, bubble-rear. A black leather belt accentuated the narrowness of her waist. Tucked into the top of the shorts, a tank-top that clung to her dramatic torso as if it had been created from a mould of her startling curves. The neck-line was low cut, revealing the upper portion of her big, upstanding breasts, the top of each magnificent curve clearly on display along with a significant amount of deep, narrow, erotic cleavage.

The skin of her neck was flawless. Above, her face was a work of art, her complexion perfect, lips generous, pouty and red, eyes bright and clear, nose just the right shape and size.

"Hey, Peterson, is that your daughter?"

"Err.. she’s-" Peterson began.

"-Yes, I am." The girl interrupted. "Your dad’s in a lot of trouble, beautiful," the first goon said. "And so are you now. Such a pretty girl too. What a shame. But business is business." The man holding Peterson turned him around and pushed him out of the apartment. The leader grabbed the girl around the waist. "Let’s go." he said.

Neither Peterson nor the girl resisted as they were bundled into the backseat of a car. Twenty minutes later, they pulled up in front of dockside warehouse. The lead thug pulled out a pistol and waved it at Peterson and the girl. "Get out," he ordered.

The kidnappers marched their victims inside the building where two metal containers, each three foot in diameter, two foot deep and filled with fresh quick-drying cement, were waiting. A goon grabbed Peterson and placed his feet inside one container. Another took hold of the girl, blatantly feeling up her stunning body as he planted her trainer-clad feet and bare ankles in the other oversized bucket.

Peterson glanced nervously at the girl. "Aren’t you going to-" he started to ask.

"Sssh!" said the girl, planting a finger on her sexy lips.

Five more minutes passed. The cement set. The thugs had to use trolleys to transport them to the edge of the dock.

"Now would be a good time…" Peterson said, sounding truly frightened.

"Alright then," said the girl.

A scratching sound emanated from the block around her feet for a moment and then a crack appeared on the surface. A second later, the entire solid chunk appeared to dissolve into a thousand fragments as the girl calmly stepped out, spraying chunks of cement in all directions.

She stood, now barefoot - her trainers in pieces, lost amongst the other fragments - on the dockside, her hands on her hips, her hypnotic breasts thrust out.

"What kinda shit cement are we using here?" asked the lead goon, whipping out his pistol.

"Don’t bother," the girl said calmly. "We’re playing a new game now." She took a step towards the leader. He responded by shooting her. There was a "Clang!" as his bullet hit the centre of her lovely face and rebounded, without leaving a trace.

"What the fuck?" said the shooter, staring at his weapon for a moment. Then he fired again, aiming for her heart. This time the ricochet was much softer-sounding as the shot hit the front of her big left breast before bouncing off as far as the shooter, striking him in the belly and knocking him down.

That was the cue for the others to unload their clips at the girl. But she merely smiled in the face of the barrage, leaving her hands on her hips and waiting patiently for the men to run out of ammunition. "How….?" the leader, still on the ground, was mumbling as the girl approached him. She leant over him, stunning breasts pendant as he looked up at her.

She reached down, grabbing him by his neck. Then in one movement, she stood up straight and flung the big man over her shoulder as if he were no harder to manoeuvre than a handful of salt.

His yell diminished as he soared out over the ocean. Several seconds passed before the distant sound of a splash. The girl had already begun to walk towards the two other goons. Both of them decided not to wait for her. As one, they turned to run.

Peterson, still stuck in cement, had to twist his neck to watch her become a blur for a moment. She re-solidified directly in front of the two runners. Half-a-second later, they were following their leader, screaming as they soared, side by side, far out over the sea. Ages seemed to pass before the sound of their splash-landing reached Peterson.

The girl walked back to Peterson, bent down, and used her fingers to break the concrete around his feet as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do.

"They didn’t lie about you!" said the freed man. "But why did you wait so long?"

"I thought it would be more fun," she said with a shrug. "Now, about my fee…."

"It’s the fridge back at my apartment."

"It’d better be. Or you’ll wish I’d let them drown you…"

  

Conceptfan, Jul. 2006.