This evening, we're looking at the discus. I was planning to tackle a different event, but it occurred to me this morning that I have already, in a way, thrown a few discuses in my time.
OK, so they weren't regulation 1 kilo approved discuses, but I don't think that matters. After all, the objects in question (man-hole covers from the street) are similar in shape, just bigger and heavier…
The first one I ever threw was late at night, when I was being chased by a van-load of yobs. One of them had come on to me in a bar, and (naturally) I'd broken his arm. He and his friends took exception, and as I left, they came running after me. I overheard the one I'd hurt telling his friends to get into the van and "Run the bitch down". Some people are so charming.
Anyway, I was jogging slowly down the middle of the street so that the diesel-engined vehicle could keep up with me, but the distance between us just kept growing. I was going to stand still and wait for them to catch up when I noticed the metal disc by my feet. "Normal" people need a crowbar to lift a cover from its housing, but I just used a finger, smashing it through the surrounding tarmac to create an access point. An easy flick of that finger lifted the steel circle out of the road. I caught it with my other hand.
The van was still about a hundred yards away as I bent my wrist and then snapped it straight, releasing the "discus" like a Frisbee. It made a bang as my delicate forearm leant it enough momentum to accelerate beyond the speed of sound. I guess the guys in the van would never have been able to see it coming, their brains being far, far too slow to process the information received by their eyes.
The man-hole cover hit the front of the vehicle low, and less than a second later, emerged from the back. In the meantime, it sliced the bulk of the engine clean in half, passing through the steel like a hot knife through butter. After that, it amputated the driver's foot at the ankle and also took a large chunk out of the lower leg of one of the passengers.
The thing actually remained airborne for a further hundred yards. When it finally came down, it slid along the road almost as far again, making a horrendous noise and producing a shower of sparks.
Needless to say, I did not hang about to discuss my throwing technique.
Wednesday 2 March 2005 17:28 GMT
Some sports that just wouldn't be any fun for me:
Swimming. I can do 10 kilometres underwater in a couple of minutes (or a couple of hundred in a hour or thousands in a day…) Diving would also be a problem. An Olympic pool is 50 meters long. So if I dived off the blocks at one end, I'd crash head first into the spectators at the far end without coming close to touching the water. Instead of chlorinated water, I'd end up covered in other people's blood.
Sprinting. 100 meters in 0.9 seconds? Only if I'm really holding back.
Hurdling. I could complete the entire 110 meter course in a single hop.
Shooting. I'd dispense with the gun and just flick the bullets at the target with a finger. I'd be guaranteed a bull's-eye with every shot.
And one that might be a laugh:
Show jumping. With a twist, of course. I put the horse (or better still ALL the horses) on my back and jog round the course, leaping fences ten times higher than normal. I'd still smash the record to pieces.
Thursday 3 March 2005 23:23 GMT
A week of looking at the world of sports and what have we learnt? Absolutely nothing. We already knew that I'm a perfect physical being in a world of weak, fragile creatures. But I've enjoyed proving it once again. In fact, to celebrate completing our sporting view of my complete superiority over the entire planet, I've been practising my favourite sport of all: man-baiting.
It all started on the street this morning when a red sports car pulled over to the kerb next to where I was walking. The tinted electric window on the pavement side lowered and a well-built young man in expensive clothes leant out and smiled at me. His line was well-oiled: "Excuse me, but I couldn't help noticing that you're gorgeous. Would you like a lift somewhere?"
Naturally, that kind of thing happens to me all the time, but I played along, and got the guy to drive back to my place. I invited him in for coffee, all innocent-like. His heart was pounding as he raced to say "Yes!" We went upstairs.
As soon as the door to my flat was shut, I ran over to the sofa, and undressed at super-speed. You should have seen the shock and then the lust on his face as I suddenly "disappeared" and then "reappeared" on the other side of the room, completely naked. Within seconds, he'd controlled his surprise. I could see the impressive bulge in his trousers that I was inspiring. Besides, his eyes alone were an obvious indication of how desperate he was to make love to me.
Smiling, I said: "So, big-shot, you think you're man enough for me? Come over here and prove it. But I warn you, I'm an impatient girl. If you don't get started within 5 minutes, I'll throw you out."
"5 minutes?" he chuckled. "I'll be there in five seconds!" He started to walk towards me. When he had almost reached me, I pursed my lips and blew gently at him. My superbreath knocked him backwards a couple of steps. "What the fuck?" he said, resuming his approach. I blew him back again, a little bit further this time. He almost lost his footing. "What's going on?" he asked.
"Stop talking and start walking!" I advised. "You've only got four-and-a-quarter minutes left." To his credit, he did try. I let him almost touch me before I exhaled at him once again. He did everything he could to fight against what was really an extremely gentle puff. He dug his heels into the carpet. He leant into the breeze. He gritted his teeth. I just blew a tiny bit harder and he lost his footing and fell. My breath pushed him, his body rolling helplessly, right back against the door.
"Three-and-a-half minutes." I announced as he picked himself up gingerly. He shook his head (I guess half in disbelief and half to clear it after his tumble). "What are you waiting for?" I goaded. "I thought you wanted some of -" I ran my hands sensuously up and down my naked breasts, stomach, hips and groin "- this?" His eyes nearly popped out of his skull.
I laughed as he set himself, almost like a boxer just as the bell rings at the start of a fight. I think he thought he was going to take me by surprise, but men can only ever surprise me with the extent of their stupidity. Anyway, I knew he was planning to charge at me at full sprint. I kept laughing, waiting until he really believed he'd caught me unawares. Then, I shrugged my shoulders, making my chest heave, and sighed theatrically.
You've probably guessed that my lungs generated enough power to make my pouty sigh hit my admirer like a warm wall. A wall of exhalation, but for the effect it had, it might as well have been a wall of bricks. The poor guy was tossed backwards, his feet leaving the ground completely. He hit the far wall about three feet up and slid down with an "Ooof!"
It took him a while to stand up. He was obviously a bit shaken up, and he kept rubbing his back which must have been badly bruised. I was almost too busy giggling to remind him that he had less than two minutes left. Almost, but not quite. "What do you want from me?" he asked, on the verge of tears.
I put on my most enticing face, struck the sexiest pose I could think of and replied in a come-to-bed voice "I want you inside me." That little performance had the desired effect. He started to approach once more. Clearly, the impact with the wall had hurt him more than either of us had realised at the time. He was limping badly. Every step seemed to cause him agony. I put my hands on my hips, bent my left knee slightly and started to tap my right foot impatiently.
He tried to hurry, he really did. But he was in agony. Each tiny step with one foot was followed by the tortuously slow dragging of the other foot. His facial expression flip-flopped between sexual hunger and painful wincing. I stifled my laughter, and kept a stern look of "Don't keep me waiting" on my face. Every so often, I made a show of glancing at my watch. "Ninety seconds" I called out. Then "Seventy-five seconds."
By the time I announced "Last minute, big-shot," he was just two steps away. He made the first, the discomfort bringing tears to his eyes. I bent forward a little towards him, as if I was intending to meet his final pace half-way. Turning my face to him as he fought to move his busted leg, I slowly pushed out my lips, looking for all the world like I was preparing to kiss him. He responded to the gesture, offering his own lips towards mine, stretching his neck to bring his face closer to me.
He was just six inches away. I could hear the blood thumping crazily in his veins. I could smell his desire. I could see his agony. I moved a tiny bit closer, slightly parting my lips as erotically as I could. Just three inches now. He closed his eyes in sweet anticipation of claiming the magnificent prize that he had fought so hard to gain. And that's when I just blew him away.
An effortless, meaningless little puff of my breath. The simplest, most casual act. And enough to knock my failed lover away as if he'd been hit by a car. He toppled over backwards, crashing to the ground three yards behind where he had been standing. His yell of pain was almost animal. I waited for it to die down before declaring "Time's up."
He looked up through disbelieving, agonised eyes. I walked up to him and bent low, offering him in his prone position the ultimate view of my pendant breasts. I reached for him, grabbing him by the waistband of his trousers. When I straightened up, he came off the ground, hanging by his belt from my fingers. I strolled over to the door, letting him swing with my stride, his weight as nothing to me.
With my free hand, I opened the door. With a contemptuous look down at the man dangling from my hand I said "Well, I gave you five minutes and you just weren't man enough. So, like I promised, I'm throwing you out." I tossed him, underarm through the open doorway, out into the corridor. He landed ten yards away and rolled for a further five.
Chuckling, I closed the door on him. Now that is what I call sport!
Friday 4 March 2005 17:43 GMT
Yesterday was pay day for me. (The second half of the money I earned on my recent little "mission". The first half was paid before I took the job.) I went to see a representative of my employer and collected the usual suitcase full of cash. "Would you like some help with that?" the representative asked. I nearly cried with laughter.
Anyway, he offered me more work for this weekend. Sounds like a great job, just the kind of thing I love doing. And, wow, does it pay well!
His client, a private individual connected to (but not directly part of) a major foreign power's government, has recently been detained in a secret, "maximum security" installation. I've been asked to bust him out.
Now, if that was the whole deal, I'd have turned it down as just too boring. I mean, walking into a prison, and getting someone out of a cell is hardly a challenge. Meanwhile escorting a fragile male from a hostile place is a pain (any little bullet or piece of shrapnel can kill him). I have to act all protective and I hate doing that. But this job does have one thing going for it that makes all the above worthwhile.
Apparently, the client is not happy with the service he's received whilst being inside. He requests that, during the rescue, "the greatest possible amount of collateral damage is caused". And that, readers, makes it definitely a job for yours truly.
I leave tonight. I'll tell you as much as I can when I get back. Don't bother wishing me luck. I don't need it.
Monday 7 March 2005 17:30 GMT
This is hardly the surprise of the century, but I'm back from my little job. Mission accomplished, and not a single little scratch anywhere on my perfect body, although I did completely ruin a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans (well, I didn't ruin them myself, of course. A grenade did that.)
I arrived at the not-so-secret location on Saturday evening. The installation was a big, one-storey affair built on the edge of a forest. There really was nothing for miles and miles around; not even a road. It must've been quite a job carrying all the steel and concrete required to construct the building. If only they'd had me to help! I could have helped them complete it in no time at all. It certainly didn't take me long to destroy it…
As promised, a contact, dressed as a local shepherd, was there to meet me. He held out his arms to offer an embrace, which I did not accept. Still, he put his hand behind me. I think he was trying to make it look like an accident, but I was not impressed when he touched my posterior. Grabbing his hand, I held it out between us and crushed two of his fingers between my thumb and forefinger. He had to stifle his own scream.
"They told me you were strong…" he winced, clutching his bloodied digits, tears forming in his eyes, "…but did you have to prove it to me like that?"
"The next time you touch me, it won't be your fingers." I replied.
"OK, OK." My contact said. "Point made. We only talk business from now." He raised his injured hand, and realised that he couldn't extend his finger. In clear pain, he dropped that arm and pointed at the low building with a finger on the end of the other.
"Our man is being held in a cell at the centre of the building. The weakness is on the East side," he said, clutching his bruising digits. "there's only a couple of guards there. The West side is the worst. That's where the main entrance is. We think there might be as many as a dozen men on patrol in that zone. Also, the entire perimeter is booby-trapped. You must approach with extreme caution."
I raised an eyebrow. I hadn't come all that way to do anything with extreme caution.
"OK, Fingers." I said. "Then I'm walking in on the West side."
"Are you crazy?"
"No, but you must be to question me."
"Sorry… sorry... What can I do to help?"
I told him "Gather up as many leaves and soft things as you can, and pile them up right here."
"You'll find it a much harder task with two broken hands."
"Please, no!" he begged, immediately busying himself with the job I had given him. For my part, I started to stroll casually towards the heavily-defended front door of the prison.
Tomorrow, I'll tell you what happened next.
Tuesday 8 March 2005 17:03 GMT
Well, this is what happened as I approached the main entrance of the not-very-secret prison:
My contact was frantically piling up leaves and soft material on top of the hill overlooking the installation when I left him to calmly walk down to the front of the building. I noticed a criss-cross network of ankle-height trip wires semi-hidden in the long grass, and decided to ignore them, letting my bare feet tear through the high-tension cabling as if it wasn't there. Immediately, my sensitive hearing detected the sound of alarms being triggered inside the low square concrete edifice. I smiled. It's always more fun when they think they're ready for me.
If I wanted to give fair warning of my arrival, I could not have done more. As I approached the flat ground immediately in front of the main entrance, I felt something hard moving beneath the sole of my foot. I knew I'd triggered a mine, but of course, I wasn't at all concerned by the fact. I lifted my sole and let it explode. Most of the blast was directed against the exposed underneath of my foot. Shrapnel bounced uselessly off it, without even tickling me although the hem of that leg of my jeans was badly burnt and torn.
Meanwhile, the dirt all around the mine was tossed up into the air, raining down on me. Some chunks of rock hit my head, smashing to powder against my skull. I just kept walking, letting the movement of my steps dislodge most of the debris from me. Soon, I was standing right next to the massive steel panel that barred the main entrance. Eight foot high and nearly twenty feet wide, it looked like someone was really concerned about security.
I could have knocked on the door and asked politely if I could come in, but that's not my style. As I couldn't tell how thick the steel was, I made sure I didn't underestimate it. I used both my fists simultaneously, drawing them back and then slamming them hard onto the centre of the panel. The Clang! of the impact shook the countryside. The door caved in around my fists, tearing away from its fixings with a scream of tortured metal.
My smash was hard enough to send the bent, torn-off chunk of metal flying backwards into the low building. I heard screams and saw a couple of splashes of red where people didn't get out of the way in time as the ex-door hurtled away from me. Eventually it hit a wall, making a squelch (I guess someone got caught between door and wall.) Men were running around or still rolling on the floor having dived out of the way of the steel panel.
It took them a while to recover and see me. I put my hands on my hips and tapped my foot whilst I waited impatiently for them to be ready. One by one, they gathered themselves and turned towards me. To my delight, they were all well-armed. Soon enough, I found myself face-to-face with fourteen shocked machine-gun toting men in military uniforms.
I'll tell you how I dealt with them (and how my sweatshirt and jeans got ruined) tomorrow.
Wednesday 9 March 2005 15:48 GMT
So, there I was. Standing with a big grin on my face, hands dominantly on my hips, my big chest thrust out (call it arrogance if you like) while a dozen-plus-two well-trained soldiers pointed their automatic weapons at me…
I can't tell you how disappointed I was when only four of them opened fire at first. They aimed for my head, creating a nice little tap-tap-tap feeling as two pairs of hot, armour-tipped bullet-streams locked on my skull. Sure, the dozens of slugs didn't even mess up my hair, but it always feels pleasant getting shot that way. I turned towards the shooters and gave them a big smile. That caused a few bullets to hit my teeth full-on. One ricocheted back where it had come from, hitting the man who'd fired it in the forehead and eliminating him from the equation.
Seeing one of their number go down brought the rest into the action. A movement in the corner of my vision caught my attention. Leisurely, I spun around to watch as a guard lobbed a grenade at me. I flashed out my hand and caught it in my palm. Taking a couple of steps towards the thrower, I held his "present" out to him. He barely had enough time to start to panic when it went off.
My hand took the bulk of the blast; red-hot, razor-sharp pieces of metal bouncing from my palm without leaving a scratch. The force of the rest of the explosion was shared by me and the three nearest men. The fire and shrapnel burnt and tore into my clothes, leaving me wearing nothing but a few charred tatters. My skin beneath, naturally, was unaffected, remaining as flawless as ever. However, the bodies of the trio of guards proved no more resilient than my jeans or sweatshirt. When the smoke cleared, there wasn't much left of them, either.
A little annoyed at the destruction of my outfit, I waded into the remaining men, swiping my arm to knock half of them flying into the walls. They struck the concrete at various heights, some barely above the ground, others just below the ceiling. All of them made red stains where they impacted; none of them moved once they'd fallen to the floor. I walked on, my stride unimpaired.
Two of the remaining five guards decided to charge me from the left. I turned my head to the side as I walked, pushing out my lips and blowing them a short, sharp "kiss" over my shoulder. That blast of superbreath knocked the pair flying through the air to meet a fate identical to their colleagues who I'd brushed aside with my arm.
That left me with three guards. One was in reach, so I grabbed him by the chin and tossed him over my shoulder so hard, it was about five seconds until my super-hearing picked up the distant sound of him hitting the ground. I'd guess he landed about two hundred yards behind me.
The two last remaining soldiers from the group who'd been guarding the entrance threw their hands in the air and started to back away from me. Seeing that the back wall was not far behind them, I continued to advance and let them retreat until, inevitably, they couldn't go any further. There was a brief moment when they realised they were about to become trapped, but before they could do anything about it, I'd thrust out my arms, imprisoning them both, side-by-side, between my unmoveable, slender forearms on either flank, the wall behind them and my body in front of them.
I was naked but for a few burnt shreds of my former clothing, and I detected the usual reactions to my physical appearance. Men! They just can't help going all funny when I'm around. Even as they're about to be killed….
Anyway, I leant in quickly, enjoying the distinctive sound of my right breast crushing the right-half of one man's chest and my left breast compressing the left-half of the other's. I took a half-step back and let the two victims of my sexy bust fall at my feet. So much for the elite unit guarding the main entrance.
Tomorrow, I'll tell you how I liberated my target and got him out of the building (relatively) unhurt.
Thursday 10 March 2005 15:22 GMT
There I was, having completely cleared the main entrance to the installation, and all I could think about was my contact on the hill outside the prison. My plan depended on him being able to collect enough soft material into a heap, and I was concerned. I had no worries about my own role; what could be easier than single handedly, unarmed (and by then more-or-less naked) storming a highly guarded secret installation and defeating dozens of machine-gun-wielding soldiers? But… could I trust a mere man to build a pile of leaves in the meantime?
I was thinking more of him than my own "work" as I approached the door that seemed to lead to the heart of the building. (Actually, in one way, it was all too much fun and too little effort to be called work, but then again, I was getting paid to do it....) Anyway, because of my worries about male competence, I didn't notice that the thick steel panel that barred my way extended into the concrete walls on either side. Similarly, I didn't pause to listen and count the heartbeats on the other side.
Instead, I just gave the door a big kick with my right foot (I never wear shoes at "work"). The thing seemed to explode away from me, smashing off huge chunks of the concrete walls that it was set into. On the other side, I discovered a long corridor. It was narrow (only just wider than the door in fact) and there must have been three or four guards stationed in it.
I never saw them of course; the big, thick steel panel rocketing down the passage away from my kick swept them up and carried them until the whole package of metal door, dislodged concrete and surprised soldiers impacted with the end of the building thirty yards away. I heard their brief, cut-short screams and saw plenty of blood accumulating beneath the panel which remained upright, finishing up slightly embedded in the inside of the exterior wall.
I found myself in a corridor which ran the length of the building minus the entrance hall. The only features in the geometric concrete structure were six metal doors, three on either side of the passageway. I knew my target was being held behind one of them and that I had to get him out, alive. The sooner I took care of him, the sooner I could get on with the fun part of the job (causing maximum collateral damage).
I started with the nearest door on my left. Realising that kicking the door in might accidentally kill my target which would have been a terrible disaster (my contract clearly stated no payment unless I got him out alive), I chose a different approach to entering the room. I walked past the actual door and turned to face the wall. After all, it was only concrete.
I put my hands on my hips and kept my shoulders straight which meant my exposed breasts stood perhaps even prouder than usual on my wonderful body. Then I stepped up to the wall and began to carefully grind myself against it. Of course my chest did most of the damage, especially to begin with.
My prominent nipples dug into the concrete, gouging out pieces of it and carving deep grooves. They were followed by the rest of my breasts. I can tell you that it's a wonderful sight, watching my perfect, womanly flesh grinding stone to dust. Knowing I'm superhuman is terrific, but to actually see the evidence of it in the way my softest, most feminine curves pulverised concrete... well, that was something else.
My stomach was even more effective against the wall, and so was my groin. In no time at all, I was reducing the prison partition to powder, merely by rubbing my beautiful body against it. Soon, the wall just crumbled away all around me and I had created a new doorway that fitted me perfectly.
Tomorrow, I'll reveal what I found when I went through it.
Friday 11 March 2005 16:29 GMT
I was telling you yesterday of how I'd used my body to destroy a wall and create a new door. Well, having ground the concrete to nothing, I stepped through the new opening into a dust-cloud of my making.
A shot rang out, and I felt the bullet ping off my hip. I couldn't see anything because of all the debris in the air, so I opened my mouth and breathed in (not deeply). My lungs, as ever, performed magnificently and the dust was instantly sucked into my throat from where I just swallowed it. Now I could see the man who had shot me. He was wearing an officer's cap. In his hand was the pistol he had used.
Having just laughed off a barrage of machine-gun fire, I had nothing to fear from a little toy like that, but I took it off the officer with super-speed anyway, breaking three of his fingers in the process. I stifled his screams by putting my hand under his chin so that he couldn't open his mouth.
I held his head so that he was forced to watch whilst I slowly ate his pistol, bite by bite. My teeth sliced through the steel weapon as if it were made of cheese, my tongue compressing it completely inside my mouth. Each time I swallowed, another piece of gun disappeared forever into my stomach. I think I must have a black hole in there! I mean, I eat whatever I want and I never gain so much as an ounce in weight...
The officer was certainly impressed by my snacking. He was even more impressed when I put my hand around his throat and lifted him from the floor by it. Of course he tried to kick and punch and pull at me, but needless to say, a fly probably would have been more effective against me. I rolled my eyes at his pathetic blows and shook him gently by the throat, making his arms and legs flail wildly around.
When his face started to turn blue, I brought it close to mine and asked him where my target was being held. He wouldn't tell me at first, but after a little more shaking and neck-squeezing, he eventually coughed up the answer. I thanked him for his co-operation and tossed him aside, not bothering to look as I heard the familiar splat of man smashing into wall.
Next time: how I rescued my target.
Monday 14 March 2005 17:54 GMT
So, last week I was telling the story of my unusual prison visit the other weekend. We'll pick up the action today where we left off on Friday. First a little recap for those whose brains cannot retain information well (i.e. male readers):
I'd ordered my contact on the scene to build a pile of leaves and soft objects on the hill overlooking the secret prison. Then, I'd smashed in the main door and laughed off the guards' attempts to shoot me. Or should that read: I'd smashed in the guards and laughed off the main door?... Anyway, I was in. In a corridor in the heart of the building, I found six doors. In the first room I found an officer, who kindly informed me where my target was being held.
Well, the location of my man was a room on the opposite side of the corridor. I could have walked out of the room in was in, but I had a better idea that was more suited to my overall plan. Bending my knees a little, I sprung straight up into the air. I expected the concrete ceiling to be strong or even reinforced. I did not expect it to be strengthened by a five-inch thick plate of solid steel. Nonetheless, the top of my head punched clean through it as if it were nothing more than thin, wet cardboard.
Debris rained down from the new hole in the ceiling as I landed right beside it on the flat roof. I used the opportunity to glance at my contact over on the hill, my superior eyesight seeing the heap of vegetation that he had acquired. It didn't look impressive, but I calculated it should be enough. I turned my attention back to my work and walked across the roof until I was over the room in which I'd been told I would find my target.
Standing above the room, I used my super-hearing to listen out for sounds from below. I heard three heartbeats; two close together, the third separated from them. I realised that the lone person was likely to be my man, and the two in the group were guards. As this pair probably had orders to shoot their prisoner rather than permit his escape, I had to take care of them first. They could empty a million clips on me without dimming my smile, but a single bullet could kill my target. If I brought him back dead, I wouldn't get paid.
I lifted my bare foot off the roof and held it above the source of the sound of the two heartbeats. Then I slammed my sole down hard onto the concrete. Of course, mere stone-and-steel was no match for my delicate-looking bare foot, and it went straight through the roof. On the way, it dislodged quite a big chunk of concrete and metal which was sent at rocket speed by my little stomp right at the men below. They would never have known what hit them.
I peered in through the hole and saw, to my relief, that my calculations had been correct. The two splattered corpses buried in rubble had, indeed, been guards. Dropping through the broken ceiling and landing with hardly a bend in my knees on the stone floor twelve feet below, I saw my man. They'd actually gone to the trouble of locking him in a small, barred cage. "Hi." I said, cheerfully. "I'm your knight in, um -" (I'd forgotten how my clothes had been destroyed by bullets and explosions) "- no armour."
The poor fellow just stared at me in awe as I strolled up to his little cell and, using just the middle finger of each hand, pulled the bars apart as easily as if I was strumming a harp. The screech of the steel as it resisted me was much less melodic than a harp, but the effect was pretty dramatic. In no time at all, I'd opened a nice, diamond-shaped door in the cage. Without waiting for my man to walk out, I reached in and lifted him out with a single hand under his chin.
I carried him like that as I walked on top of the dead men and broken ceiling until I was standing directly underneath the hole. Then I lifted him up, and told him to climb up through the breech. He took an age to do it, even with my help. Finally, he clambered out and I jumped up after him, using a hundredth of the time and a millionth of the effort he'd required.
Now we were both on the roof. I knew it was only a matter of seconds before someone found us and started shooting. I had to get him away from the area. "I hope that pile of leaves is ready" I muttered as I carefully picked up my target, and gently tossed him, underarm, towards the hillside. He screamed as he flew (I should have warned him of my intentions first), arms and legs flying about crazily as he arced through the air. In all he travelled about a hundred yards before gravity took over and brought him down.
My aim (as it always is) was perfect. He came down, backside-first, right onto the heap of foliage. I heard the gentle sound of his landing, as well as a string of curses from the ungrateful bastard which told me he'd not been too badly hurt by the impact. Pleased with myself, I looked down at the building beneath my feet. Having removed the prisoner, all that remained for me was to take care of the prison. I smiled in sweet anticipation.
Tomorrow: how I destroyed the prison.
Wednesday 16 March 2005 15:13 GMT
With my target safely out of harm's way, I was free to concentrate on the fun part of my little task. As I was standing on the roof of the installation, I knew I had to get back inside to affect the maximum possible damage. So I strolled away from the two holes I'd made and made my way towards the approximate centre of the building.
Once there, I jumped up, allowing my body to turn in the air so that I landed back on the concrete roof flat on my stomach. That meant the largest possible area of my physical perfection hit the concrete. Of course, mere stone and steel didn't slow my fall and I just carved through the ceiling of the prison, taking out a huge portion of its roof in the process.
I landed lying on top of an enormous pile of debris, the air around me thick with dust. To aid with visibility, I inhaled the loose particles into my lungs, clearing the atmosphere in less than a second. Immediately, I saw that I was in a small square room, similar to the ones I'd already seen. The broken remains of a table creaked under the weight of a slab of broken concrete. Nearby I noticed a couple of sets of limbs part-buried under pieces of displaced roof.
There couldn't have been many guards left, but just in case there was, I got to my feet, brushing the crushed concrete from my naked body and called out "Hello? Is there anybody left who wants to play?" No-one answered directly, but I heard the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps from another part of the building. "Oh, so you want to play chase?" I called out. "OK, then. I'll count to ten. One, Two, Three…" (male readers can look up the rest of the sequence).
I got to ten, and turned to face the direction of the running feet. That left me staring at a wall. I spread my arms wide and just ran at it, the reinforced concrete dissolving into dust as my invulnerable body slammed into, and then clean through it, leaving another pile of rubble and another cloud of dust.
I was in yet another identical room (whoever had built the place was no fan of interior design). I could still hear the boots of men running away in the distance and guessed they were heading for the entrance I'd destroyed when I first approached the building. Just as I was about to charge through another wall which stood between me and the owners of those boots, I heard a familiar Click! sound to my right. I stopped and looked.
There, crouched against a metal locker, was a young man holding a pistol. I turned to him, looking down at him with my hands on my hips, and burst out laughing. He shot me twice, once in the stomach and once in the chest. The first bullet pinged off my upper abdominals and buried itself deep in the wall beside me. The second ricocheted off the inside curve of my right breast, smacked the opposite point on my other mound and lodged itself in my cleavage.
I fished it out, making a little bit of a show of erotically cupping myself as I extracted the squashed bit of lead. Then I flicked it back at the firer, my single finger sending the misshapen bullet back ten times faster than it had come. He never stood a chance.
Meanwhile, I'd already set off, smashing through the second wall which did, as I suspected, lead to the main entrance chamber. Sprinting past the bodies of the guards I'd dealt with earlier, travelling well within myself (at only about two hundred miles an hour) I caught up with the trio of fleeing men before they'd even managed to leave the building. Effortlessly, I overtook them and then turned right in front of them, suddenly standing dead still.
Being only men, they couldn't stop themselves in time, once they saw me. The fellow in the centre of the group ran smack into my body, knocking himself out cold as his chest impacted mine hard enough to crack most of his ribs. The other two might have slipped past if I hadn't held my arms out at my sides, stopping them dead in their tracks and winding them both.
As they gasped for air, I brought my hands behind their heads and pulled them both down to my chest, despite their (frankly, pathetically weak) struggles. Pressing a soldier's rough, masculine face against each of my "soft" feminine breasts was nice… for a second or so. Then, of course, their skulls collapsed. I let the corpses fall to the floor, and bent down to tear off a strip from one of their trousers. I used that to wipe away the worst of the mess from my chest.
I listened carefully for the sounds of other human activity in the building and heard none. I'd gotten my man out alive, and taken care of the staff. That just left the building itself. I'll tell you how I dealt with it next time.
Thursday 17 March 2005 23:01 GMT
After I'd casually dispatched the last guards, I sauntered out of the remains of what had once been the main entrance. I had every reason to feel arrogant as I surveyed the scene; the size and thickness of the door I'd smashed in (and what had become of that "impregnable" slab of steel), the number of "elite" armed guards that had been on duty (and what had become of them…) I'd made a mockery of it all. Without working up a sweat. My hands rested on my hips as a sign of my complete dominance over men and their creations.
Throughout the few minutes that made up my raid on that "ultra-secure" installation, I'd shown not only its men but also their weapons and even the very building itself to be no match at all for my unarmed, beautiful body. There seemed no better way for me to say "goodbye forever" to that place by giving it the ultimate display of my power. Proof, you could say, that my previous "exertions" had left me anything but short of breath.
I walked until I was about twenty yards outside the wrecked entrance. Keeping my palms on my hips, I turned slowly and faced the former prison. I leant slowly forwards, bending at the waist but keeping my chest proudly thrust out as I effortlessly and sexily pouted my lips and unleashed a stream of my breath through that lush channel, directing it at the base of the huge one-storey building.
With a sound normally only heard during the fiercest of hurricanes, my superhuman lungs powered air with such force and in such volumes that the concrete and steel structure had no chance of surviving. My exhalation tore at the building, ripping it apart, shattering the stone and bending the metal (its agonised screams barely audible above the noise of rushing wind) until it stretched and shred.
Still I continued to blow at the rapidly shrinking installation. Layer by layer, room by room, my breath pressed it, crushed it, smashed it, tore it apart and send it flying off into the distance. Even I was impressed by the sight (especially as I could contrast the spectacular scene with the utter ease of causing it).
For a few seconds, a central column of solid steel looked as if it might hold out. Any trace of what had been attached to it had long since disappeared, defeated by my lungs, but that pillar (about twenty centimetres in diameter and obviously set deep in a lake of concrete) remained. I closed my lips very slightly, concentrating the jet of my puff and targeted it carefully at the top of the column.
There was a scream, almost as if the steel were appealing to the universe to apply some logic that would prevent it being overcome, bettered and destroyed by a girl's breath. That was followed by a groan of surrender as the column suddenly tilted away from me. Another, more urgent sound accompanied the wonderful vision of the entire pillar tearing in half at ground level, the wind picking up the top half and sending it hurtling away.
By then, there was nothing else left that could be recognised as having once been part of a building. The rubble, broken into tiny pieces, was stretched out over a two mile long, one-mile wide area. To stop the invincible force that had wreaked such devastation, I just closed my lips. Then, I started running, at a comfortable jog (no more than 100 miles per hour) towards my awe-struck contact who was waiting up on the hill with my rather bemused target.
Job done. And, I'm sure you'll agree, it's always better when your work is something you enjoy.
Friday 18 March 2005 23:24 GMT
Well I've been back from my little trip for quite a while now, and, even though I could brag about my adventures and how magnificent I was/am, all good things must come to an end.
That's how I felt travelling away from the ruined installation actually. I mean: once you've destroyed a fortified prison by blowing at it, whatever you do next is always going to be a bit of a weak encore. Sure, I've spent a few days shopping with some of the money I earned, but that's not the kind of action that really excites me.
So, to keep from getting totally bored, I've been destroying the odd car, lamppost or tree and resorting to my old favourite hobby: hurting the occasional man who crossed my path. I even forced myself on a couple (well, alright: it was six) lucky guys, but that was just a spur of the moment thing one evening.
What I'm in the mood for is mischief, and this weekend I'm going be causing plenty.
Monday 21 March 2005 17:44 GMT
Ultragirl? Are you reading this? Come back and finish what you started!
Well, well, well. Here’s something I’ve never said before: I’ve been in a fight! I mean, a “proper” fight. Not one of those exchanges where I pretend to check my (unbreakable) fingernails while some jerk empties a machine-gun magazine into my chest and then I swot him away like a fly with the back of one hand, but an actual bout of hand-to-hand combat. I’m still shocked. I never would have thought there was anyone (or anything) on Earth that could even dream of challenging me. But there is!
I’d been having a weekend of fun out in the countryside. On Saturday afternoon, I chanced across a small group of young men who looked like they were on some kind of survival course. Observing them from a distance, I noticed that they all looked very fit (by “normal” standards) and pleasantly muscled, too. I decided to introduce myself.
They were very unwelcoming when they spoke, but the way their eyes examined every inch of me told a different story. (I’d obviously chosen my outfit well; a ridiculously tight, low-cut, sleeveless black T-shirt and a pair of shorts that barely covered the very top of my thighs.) Anyway, despite clearly being “interested”, they kept telling me to go away.
Of course, I did nothing of the sort. Eventually, one of them threatened me with a knife. That’s when all the fun started. Two minutes later, I had all five of them kneeling before me, groaning and wincing from their fresh injuries. With my hands on my hips, and a big, smug grin on my face, I asked them why they had been so anxious for me to go.
Of course, in the light of the beating I had just dished out, they couldn’t wait to tell me. It turned out they were actually an army commando unit in training. I laughed when I realised that I had so easily defeated a bunch of soldiers. They might as well have been bankers for all the resistance they’d managed…
But, they did look good. Good enough for me to spend the next couple of days with. I found some rope in their rucksacks, and tied the entire quintet, standing and facing outwards, around the base of a huge oak tree. I made my way around the tree, stripping each man by tearing off his clothes. Then I then took off my own outfit, and forced myself on them, one-by-one.
After that, we played all manner of games. First, there was hide-and-seek. I untied my boys and told them they were free to go. Then I waited a couple of minutes, and set off into the forest, gathering them back up in pairs, carrying them like trophies draped over my shoulders back to the tree.
Later, I secured lengths of rope around the ankles of three of the men, and holding on to the other ends myself, I pretended they were kites by keeping them airborne for a couple of minutes of a cushion of my warm superbreath.
Another game was “endurance”. In it, I took each of the boys in turn and rubbed his face gently against my chest until either he screamed for me to stop or he passed out or he reached orgasm (whichever happened first). The winner was the one who held on longest. (For the record, the best time was 24 seconds, but that guy screamed, came and lost consciousness all at once…)
Anyway, we were having such a great time together, that I refused to let them go, even when they pleaded with me after a day or so. And that’s why we were still all together this morning. One of the group had tried to get away by himself. Naturally, I’d caught him before he could take three steps. I lifted him with a single hand on his throat, my spare hand resting on my hip, his feet dangling near my knees. The rest of the boys were cowering together about ten yards away.
And that’s when I was so rudely interrupted. I heard the distant Whoosh! and thought at first it was a jet plane. But it didn’t sound right. And then I felt the displacement of air behind me. I spun around, naked soldier still suspended in my grip, and saw her for the first time. Hovering about six feet above the ground, with her hands on her hips. Thinking immediately of the exchange I’d had on the superwomenmania forums, I said “You must be Ultragirl.” Shaking the man in my grip, I asked, mockingly “Have you come to rescue this poor little soldier?”
“Put him down, you bully!” she said self-righteously. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own strength?” Well, I didn’t need a second invitation. I tossed the soldier aside (he landed twenty yards away in a bush) and charged at the uninvited arrival. Just as I leapt for her though, she rose rapidly into the air, evading my grasp.
I jumped for her again, easily clearing the tops of the tallest trees, but she escaped my clutches by going even higher. “Come down here and fight like a woman!” I shouted. She swooped down, landing between me and the bulk of my soldiers. I have to confess, the sight of her flying under her own power was impressive.
“Let these innocent men go first,” she said, “and then I’ll fight you.”
“No. They’re mine!” I replied. She started to deliver a speech about human rights, so I charged at her, but she took off again at the last instant, leaving me clutching at air. Catching a glimpse of the man I’d thrown aside now clambering out of the thick bush he’d crashed down in, I got an idea.
I sprinted over, grabbed hold of him again and, with one hand under his thigh and the other under his shoulder, lifted him, sideways-on, over my head. “Hey, Ultrabimbo!” I called. “Let’s do this my way. Either you come down here now, or I’ll break your precious little boy here like a twig.” At first the only response came from the guy above my head crying and pleading with me.
Then, I head something touching the ground very lightly about ten yards behind me. And there she was. “Let him go,” she said, “he’s done nothing to you.”
“Here, have him!” I said, tossing him straight up into the air. She soared upwards again. I couldn’t help but be amazed by the way she looked as she defied gravity and intercepted the still rising soldier. She cradled him in her arms, descending near the other men and placing her cargo carefully down on his feet as if he were a china ornament.
Then she charged at me. She was fast. Faster than anything I’d ever encountered before. So fast that I couldn’t fully evade her. She caught me with a kick on the side of the body. To my shock, I found myself falling over. Nothing has ever knocked me down before. I could even feel the point of impact, even after the contact had ended. It felt strange. Unfamiliar. And not entirely pleasant. Was that pain?
I was sitting up when she landed square on top of me, pushing me back down again. It was actually a struggle to try and sit up. I’ve never felt anything against my body the way each punch, kick and push of her hands and feet felt. Even despite the discomfort (a sensation I’d never encountered before), there was something… amazing about it.
Before I could think what it was, she let loose with a barrage of punches to my face. She moved so fast, that even using my own superspeed, I could barely separate one blow from the next. And her little hands really did hit me each time. Each punch had more impact on me than anything I’d previously experienced. It was only after a few moments that I realised she was hammering my whole body, head-first, down into the ground.
Stunned by what was happening, I kicked myself upwards with my legs, and was genuinely relieved to find that I was rising out of the hole. Not only that but I managed to shake her off me. I landed on my knees, and she came down a few yards away. Whilst she rolled over, I seized the opportunity to get to my feet. But Ultragirl got up pretty quickly too.
She ran at me, I stood my ground and grabbed her hands. I could feel her fingers squeezing my own, another totally novel thing for me. I quite liked it actually, even if she was doing it a little bit harder than I would have chosen. We grappled like that for a few moments, experimentally testing out each other’s strength. I couldn’t believe that her arms were able to resist mine, but for a while, they certainly did.
Throughout all this, the five soldiers were watching intently. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised by the fact that they had decided to side against me, but I was annoyed when one of them shouted “Come on, blondie, smash the bitch!” Desperate not to let the remark go unpunished, I found another spurt of strength from deep within, and forced Ultragirl around so that I was facing the men.
That was the moment I realised that, despite her incredible strength, I just about had the edge on her. I took advantage of gaining the upper-hand to send a blast of superbreath at the men. My “kiss” picked them up, and tossed them, like leaves, ten feet into the air. They came back down twenty yards from where they’d been standing. That took care of the heckler.
To show that I was winning the contest of muscle, I broke free of her grip and tried to force her away, but I underestimated her and she came straight back at me, this time letting rip with a furious blur of punches at my chest. I was stunned by the way her hands felt. Nothing has ever caused me so intense a sensation.
I was aware of a kind of warm feeling that grew in intensity until it was all I could think about. I was torn. Part of me was genuinely concerned by this never-before-experienced feeling. If it kept on increasing, would it become too much for me to bear? I’m sure now that what I was undergoing involved (to a degree) pain. But another part of me was revelling in the incredible way it felt to have my breasts touched by someone so strong.
Up until that moment, I’d never been attracted to a woman before. But seeing Ultragirl, her body almost as gorgeous as mine, and feeling her punching my chest, her strength almost as limitless as mine, was definitely an education. I let my hands hang by my sides and pushed out my big mounds, offering her even more of a target for her little fists. She continued the barrage for few more moments, and then, unexpectedly stopped.
I found myself smiling. “I’ll wipe that grin off your face.” Ultragirl exclaimed, and renewed her frantic attack. I let it go on until the sensation became worryingly severe and then pushed her away with all my might, not holding back anything. She flew backwards, her back slamming into a through a thick tree-trunk in mid-air, felling the thing with a huge Crash! before she landed on her rear, thirty yards from me.
She stood up quickly, but instead of running at me, pushed out her lips and unleashed a jet of superbreath at me. The air was full of flying leaves and branches; some smaller trees were uprooted by her exhalation and smashed into me, splintering into matchsticks on impact against my invulnerable body. My hair was tossed around, and her warm breath blasted my face. It felt nice. Really nice. I understand now why some men shoot their loads when I use my superbreath on them. It feels really… sexy.
Ultragirl stopped blowing when she saw that I was enjoying it and tried something else. Two beams of red light emerged from her eyes and converged on my belly. It must’ve been hot (incredibly hot) at that point, because, even though I wanted to stand there and laugh her efforts off, I had to move because I wasn’t at all comfortable. I darted to the side.
She followed me with her lasers. When the focus of the heat-rays brushed over my left nipple, I yelled in shock and pleasure. For the briefest instant, it was unbelievably lovely. Then it became unpleasant. I kept moving until she finally stopped the beams of light. Maybe she just couldn’t sustain them any longer. Whatever the reason, I was glad it was over.
It took me a moment or two to recover my composure. That was more than enough time for her to leap at me. We hit the ground, rolling over and over and over, smashing through thick trees. I managed to gain control over our momentum, bringing us to a halt as I was on top. Ultragirl slapped my face a few times, once again, creating a more intense sensation than any I’d ever felt. I caught her wrists with my hands.
By then, I knew that she was too strong for me to capture both her hands with just one of my own. I needed my two hands to pin her arms to the ground. I was about to smash my knee down into her groin when I stopped. Looking down at her face and recognising the kind of superhuman beauty I see in the mirror every day, I was overwhelmed by a compulsion to kiss her.
I leant in and planted my lips on hers. So firm! For once, I could actually press my mouth against another with all my passion without being covered in gore. She was squirming beneath me, trying to get away, and the sheer force of her struggles, threatening to throw me off at any moment, turned me on.
I tried to force my tongue into her mouth, but she resisted. Suddenly, her teeth clamped down hard on my tongue. That definitely did hurt me. I was so shocked, I relaxed my grip on her arms. An instant later, she’d escaped from under me. She was clearly blushing as she stood up. I ran at her but she shot straight upwards. I followed her with my superhuman eyes for a while, but she disappeared from even my view.
I was left confused. So many sensations and feelings I’d never know before. Like being in a physical contest. And having my body touched by someone in my own strength class. If only she wasn’t such a goody-goody spoilsport! I really think we could have got something going.
I was so absorbed in thought, I even forgot to say goodbye to my sleeping soldier friends after I’d found my clothes. Instead, I headed for home, alone. It’s like I said at the top; Ultragirl, if you’re out there, come back!!
Tuesday 22 March 2005 16:08 GMT
I don't dream. The main reason for that is that I don't sleep. (I don't need to.) But if I did, I know who I would have been dreaming of last night.
Yesterday was such an amazing day for me. So many firsts! For the first time in my life, I met another superhuman. For the first time in my life, I felt my body being touched by a force of maybe not equal power, but at least worthy power. And for the first time in my life I found myself attracted to another woman.
Very attracted, in fact. I haven't been able to think about much else. Proof of that is the fact that there were two telephone engineers working in my building this morning, and, despite numerous opportunities to have all kinds of fun with them, I've more-or-less completely ignored them. True, when one of them passed me in the corridor, carrying a large, heavy (for him) box, I did send him and his box flying by brushing my ankle against his foot, but that was only because he was staring at my chest far too overtly.
Normally, I'd have had my way with him and his colleague until (and after) they begged me to stop. Maybe it's a passing phase, but there's only one person I want to get my hands on...
Wednesday 23 March 2005 16:52 GMT
had some great news! Anyone who reads the forums at superwomenmania.com will know that Ultragirl wants to meet me again. I've invited her back to the forest to play with me tomorrow morning. I hope she doesn't chicken out!
In anticipation of the little get-together, I went out shopping for a few things this morning. Shopping "Blogger-style" that is (helping myself to whatever I fancy and getting it out of the shop too quickly for even the best CCTV to follow). Despite the mind-boggling speed of my movements, I made sure I chose well. After all, I want to give my new friend a proper welcome.
I keep thinking about how it felt to be touched by her. I want to feel her superhuman body against mine. I can't wait!
Thursday 24 March 2005 17:05 GMT
girl!!! Come back!!! I can't believe she ran away again! Just as things were getting really interesting between us.
Let me tell you all about it. I got to the meeting point early, and changed into the special outfit I'd bought for the occasion (a very special semi-see-through basque with half-cups that, take my word for it, displayed my curves particularly strikingly). By the time I heard the familiar whoosh! that heralded Ultragirl's out-of-the-sky arrival, I was lying in a little clearing in the sexiest pose I could manage. "Over here, honey!" I called out to her.
When she saw me, she blushed bright red. "Wh... What are you wearing?" she asked.
"A little something in your honour," I smiled. Then, stretching out languidly, I enquired "Do you like it?"
"I don't know what idea you've got," she started, but "I'm here to take you down, you crazy bully."
"Well, come on over," I said, "I'm waiting."
"You crazy bitch!" she screamed, and unleashed her heat vision at me. Remembering how it had hurt me last time, I braced myself. My lovely lingerie disintegrated instantly and I was left completely naked. Ultragirl's lasers were targeted at my face, and for a few seconds the point where they hit me stung terribly. I concentrated on trying to tune out the intense sensation.
At first the discomfort continued to increase, until I was worried that I wouldn't be able to take it anymore, but then my mind and body began to adjust. Somehow, I was learning to cope with the phenomenal heat. The feeling started to become increasingly manageable. I smiled at Ultragirl, showing her that I was no longer suffering. That seemed to anger her. The lasers vanished, but as I started to stand up, they reappeared, apparently with more power than before.
Because I had moved slightly, the twin beams of heat-vision now focussed onto my bare right breast. The light of the lasers was much brighter than before, but now they no longer hurt. In fact, the surface-of-the-sun-like temperatures felt good against my skin. Really good. I glanced down at my glowing chest and then coyly up at Ultragirl, raising a single eyebrow. "Mmmmm" I said. "That's lovely."
"You bitch!" she screamed, charging at me. I stood up as she streaked closer. Thanks to the lessons learnt during our first encounter, I knew exactly what to expect. I anticipated both the awesome fury of her fists and the fantastic power that they carried. Holding myself perfectly still, I was ready, and I grinned as a million punches, each strong enough to stop a speeding truck, rained down on my face and upper-body.
Now that I couldn't be surprised by Ultragirl's strength, I found it easy to cope with. I put my hands ostentatiously on my hips and thrust out my chest, laughing as her face creased in anger and the ferocity of her attack continued to increase. Her wild punches felt like pleasant caresses to me, especially when they slammed into my torso. I honestly could have stayed like that all day, letting her hit me with everything she had.
However, I did not stand still for long. Acting as fast as I ever have done, I ran around behind her. She clearly couldn't follow my movements, because she started looking around for me until I tapped her gently on the shoulder. She whirled around and started to unleash yet another flurry of blows. I merely dashed out from under her fists, coming up behind her once again.
We went on like that for a while, me running around her and her unable to track me. The last time, I ran right up to her from the front, put my arms around her neck, and kissed her on the lips. She tried to push me away, but I found I could resist her with less and less trouble. Either she was getting weaker or I was getting stronger, or maybe both. Whatever the reason, she couldn't break the kiss until I let her.
"What.... what.... are... you.... doing?" she panted. She looked so good flustered like that.
"Oh come on!" I said. "You know you want this too. We're completely alone here. You don't have to pretend now."
"Get off me, you criminal!" she screamed. "You belong in jail."
"You belong in my bed." I replied, cupping her chin and drawing her mouth towards mine. She fought to pull her face away, but my grip was too strong. I smiled. I was beginning to enjoy myself. I brought my free hand up to gently squeeze her super-chest through her sheer costume. She felt wonderful. So firm beneath my fingers, unlike anything I'd ever touched before. I wanted more.
"Hey!" she yelled, but I completely ignored her as I used my fingernails to tear into her "indestructible" top. The strange material tore differently to normal fabric. I found I could only rip it away one small strip at a time. Even working at superspeed, it took me nearly a minute to disrobe her properly. All the while, I held her head close to mine whilst she kicked and punched and scratched at my already naked body.
Once I had her stripped, I took a moment to admire her body. It was the most wonderful thing I have seen other than in a mirror. Physically, she certainly is an "Ultra"girl. I licked my lips slowly, pulling her towards me, despite her struggles. Bending my head, I extended my tongue and traced its tip slowly around one of her superb nipples. I've never been so turned on in my life.
"Stop!" she cried. I paused to look up at her. Her expression was strange and I couldn't interpret it. "Please. Give me a moment... to.... get ready." she said. Stupidly, I let go of her. She took a step backwards, not breaking eye-contact with me. I should have known it was a trick, but I was so excited by the prospect of getting my hands on her fabulous body, that I was not thinking straight. A split-second later, she took off, flying straight upwards.
I leapt up after her, but she was well out of my reach, already heading towards the upper atmosphere. As I landed, I let out a yell of frustration which shook the leaves and the birds from the trees for a mile in every direction. I had her and I let her go.
Now I want her more than ever. I'm no longer curious about her strength. I know that I'm much stronger than her. But her beautiful, superhumanly firm body would be such a perfect match for my own. I swear, if I ever get another chance, I won't let her slip away again...
Sunday 27 March 2005 20:52 GMT
folks! (As the idiots around here like to say.)
Yes, you guessed it, I'm in Texas. Ever since Ultragirl shot up into the sky out of my clutches for the second time, I've not been able to think about anything or anyone else. The feel of the second hardest body and the second most beautiful curves on Earth has made an impression in my brain in a way that no narcotic, radioactive or toxic substance has ever done. Understand me, people: I've got to have her.
Of course, even for an all-powerful gorgeous girl like me, some things are not as simple as they seem. For starters, because it's an extended holiday weekend, there were no seats available on almost any flights to the U.S. One airline helpfully offered me a ticket to Seattle and another suggested Anchorage as an alternative but (surprisingly) I decided to make my own arrangements.
I packed a waterproof bag with (amongst other things) a very special little outfit I've put together just for Ultragirl and took a train to the coast. Changing into a simple two-piece bikini, I dived into the Atlantic. It was barely above freezing overnight in the middle of the ocean as I swam, navigating by the stars, but I didn't feel cold. Thinking only of getting my hands on the object of my desire, I nearly sunk a tanker by swimming straight into its bow. At the last second, I dived beneath the ship, letting my wake rock it violently as I continued my well-over-a-hundred-miles-an-hour progress.
After those world-beating aquatics, I jumped out of the sea as fresh and perfect as when I left home. A lone beachcomber nearly fainted when he saw me in my swimsuit. When I took it off to change into slightly more modest clothing, he did go the whole way and pass out.
Travelling was not my only problem. To make things even more challenging, I don't know exactly where Ultragirl lives. Just that it's somewhere in Texas (the biggest of all the mainland U.S. states). So, now that I'm here, I've got two options. Either I hunt her down or I flush her out. I've never been the P.I. type, so I guess it'll be Plan B: make her show herself.
Fortunately, I know exactly how to do that. Being the goody-goody protector of the pathetic that she is, all I have to do is make sure there's people that need rescuing. I think I can find some weak and fragile males to fill that role. Once news of their plight reaches her lovely ears, I'm sure she'll come riding (or flying) to save the day. And then, she'll be mine.
I couldn't care less what happens to the men; they'll just be the bait on my hook. Maggots, if you will, to entice my prey. It's going to be fun. You can tell I'm really looking forward to it!
Monday 28 March 2005 20:51 GMT
s, delays! There's nothing more frustrating (apart from a man falling apart in my arms).
I was all set for launching my little plan to lure Ultragirl when, just a couple of minutes after I posted yesterday, I found out (completely by chance) that the National Guard were planning three days of training manoeuvres starting today (Monday) almost exactly on the spot I'd chosen for my confrontation.
Now, don't get me wrong. I've always thought it would be a great laugh to take on those boys, but the last thing I need is the entire US military trying everything they've got in a vain attempt to break one of my fingernails. I like a quiet life, not one spent being constantly shot at by members of various overstaffed, over-budgetted organisations.
So, I had to find a way of putting them off, at least for a few days. Fortunately, a few minutes later, my superhearing picked up the sound of a TV weather report in another part of the motel I'm staying in. They were warning of storms over a town just fifty miles away. I immediately set off at a sprint, and got there in about twenty minutes.
Climbing a nearby hill, I looked up at the thick, black clouds above, pursed my lovely lips and blew, quite hard, at the edge of the tempest. My lungs proved themselves easily powerful enough to create an atmospheric disturbance. The clouds moved even faster than I had just run. I kept exhaling, directing the awesomely strong jet of my breath to steer the storm over the area where I intend to draw Ultragirl
When I closed my lips, the ground-to-air hurricane ceased and the clouds stopped travelling. The thunder, lightening and rain continued (if anything even more fiercely) but now they filled the sky fifty miles east of before. I ran back to the area, and used a few more blasts of superbreath to cause some damage to power-lines and roads in case the storm missed them, thus making sure that the military exercises would have to be postponed.
Now, I have to wait another day for that wonderful moment when I get my hands on Ultragirl's body. Still, I suppose things could have been worse; we could have been interrupted, mid-session, by five hundred soldiers. That might have been amusing, but it certainly would not have been romantic..
Tuesday 29 March 2005 23:31 GMT
ng all! Bet you haven't had as thrilling a day as I've had. (Unless, that is, your name begins with U- and ends with -ltragirl.) I've had far too much fun to tell the whole story in one go. So, it's part one tonight, with more to come tomorrow...
It all started so perfectly. I got to my chosen spot (a bridge over a more-or-less deserted ravine) at noon, and made my preparations. This involved removing a section of the crash barrier from one side, leaving a section of the bridge open with a fifty-foot drop beneath it. Needless to say, I ripped into the thick steel rails with my bare hands with total ease, tearing them apart as if they were no tougher than warm butter.
After that, I changed into the special costume I'd prepared. Basically, it was a copy of Ultragirl's superheroine outfit but with a fishnet top which left nothing of my glorious upper body to the imagination and two very revealing slits cut into the hips. When I checked it at home in the mirror, even I was impressed by the way it looked on me. I knew it would have an effect on her.
Hiding behind a support strut, I waited for my unwitting bait to trundle along. Eventually, the vehicle I'd been expecting, a bus full of soldiers returning to their base from home leave, came by. The gentlest little puff of my breath was enough to knock it sideways. The driver was helpless to control the thing. My exhalation pushed the front end of the bus over the side of the bridge at exactly the point where I'd removed the barrier.
I was very careful to make sure I didn't blow too hard and send the entire vehicle into the ravine below. Of course, my control was perfect. I cut off my breath leaving the bus half on and half off the bridge, pivoting precariously right on the edge. The men inside screamed in terror, but they dared not move for fear of tipping themselves over. I couldn't stop myself laughing at their helplessness for a while.
Of course, I could have hauled the entire bus to safety with a single finger, but that wasn't the plan. Instead, I took out my camera-phone, took a snap of the scene and e-mailed it, along with details of the location, to Ultragirl. I knew she wouldn't be able to resist the old bus-teetering-on-the-edge scenario.Sure enough, I heard her familiar Whoosh! a short while later. Ultragirl landed in all her glory and I stepped out to great her. She ignored me at first though, pulling the bus to safety.
As the grateful men began to clamber out, she turned to me. "What the hell are you wearing?" she demanded, clearly enraged.
I gave her a little twirl. "Do you like it?" I asked.
"It's an abomination!" she yelled, and unleashed her heat vision at me. I guess anger makes it more powerful because the twin lasers were even more intense than last time. But this time, I already knew what was coming, and how to handle it. My improvised costume dematerialised instantly, leaving me naked and giggling slightly. I felt no discomfort whatsoever.
"If you prefer me without clothes, you only had to ask." I said. Before she could even reply, I was shocked to hear another Whoosh!. Looking up, I saw a man in a bright green and gold costume flying in to land beside Ultragirl. His well-muscled body looked good, and his face was handsome, but a little too clean-cut for my tastes. "Who the hell are you?" I enquired, with a sneer. "This is girls' business. Stay out of it, male."
As if answering my question, Ultragirl said "Turbo-Boy, you protect the people. I'll take care of this bitch." I guess she was referring to the men from the bus as that's where Turbo-Boy headed.
"How sweet!" I said to Ultragirl. "You brought a pet with you."That must have hurt the guy's masculine pride because he stopped and turned to me, proclaiming: "I am Turbo-Boy of the Union of Superheroes for Justice! I fight for Truth and Fairness against the forces of Evil and Darkness!". He began his little speech glaring proudly at me, fixing me straight in the eye. But his stare flickered and his gaze began to lower, away from my eyes, down my face, past my chin. By the time he concluded with "I am no-one's pet! I treat all beings with the respect and dignity they deserve, and I expect the same in return.", he was addressing my breasts.
I brought my arms in front of my body, using them to lift my chest slightly as I bent forward towards him, offering the maximum possible amount of cleavage to ogle. And, did he ogle! So much so, that the bulge in his groin quickly became big enough for even a "normal" person to spot from distance. Chuckling, I asked "Is that a gun in your pocket, Turbo-Boy? 'Cos it looks like it's ready to go off at any moment!"
Blushing as red as a tomato, he put his hands awkwardly in front of his crotch, looking guiltily behind him towards the dozen or so men who were edging away from the bus in the direction of the near end of the bridge. "That's no good, Turbo-Boy," I said, shaking my head in mock chastisement, "You'll never be able to save those poor, defenceless soldiers like that."
I made my point by blowing at the retreating men, nothing more than an effortless puff, you understand. Just enough to pick up four of them and carry them over the side of the bridge. With multiple screams they began to fall towards the rocky ravine floor. I giggled as both Ultragirl and Turbo-Boy took off to rescue the tumbling men. The sight of them flying made me wish I could defy gravity like that. If I could, I wouldn't waste such a gift on pathetic, screaming soldiers...
As the two superheroes returned, each carrying two men, I unleashed another gust of superbreath that threw another two men off the bridge. Ultragirl put her cargo down and, spinning in the air, flew off again after the latest pair of fallers, leaving Turbo-Boy standing awkwardly, staring at my chest once more. I put my hands behind my head, pushing out my breasts. His eyes almost jumped from their sockets, as if they were trying to get closer to my chest. I helped him out by walking towards him. He seemed to be hypnotised by my bare mounds, rooted to the spot as I neared.
Turbo-Boy's jaw dropped as I approached. "Oh, Turbo," I chuckled, "you're really hooked, aren't you? Doesn't Ultra ever let you look at hers?"
You'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out what happened next.
Wednesday 30 March 2005 21:00 GMT
here did I leave off last time? Ah, yes. On the bridge. The soldiers from the bus trying to get away from me, Ultragirl doing the heroine thing flying around catching the men I was blowing over the side and Turbo-Boy drooling at the sight my naked chest as I strolled towards him.
I put a little sway into my walk, so that my breasts moved with every stride. Turbo's eyes followed accordingly. I felt like a stage hypnotist swinging a pocket watch. "You poor boy!" I mocked. "Is this the first time you've seen a woman naked? Ultragirl should have prepared you for this! What use are you as a superhero if your brain is going to freeze up every time you spot a pair of tits?"
I bent low, mid-step, and used my right hand to scoop up a chunk of road surface, my fingers carving through the tarmac like they would through room-temperature ice cream. "Look, Turbo-Boy!" I called out. "Your beloved soldiers are in danger!" I tossed the piece of road at the legs of one of the retreating men. With a yell, he collapsed, clutching the large, fresh, freely bleeding wound in his thigh. A couple of his colleagues rushed to his aid.
As Turbo-Boy made the supreme effort to take his eyes off my nipples and look at the confusion, I reached down and grabbed another lump of road. I drew my hand back, preparing to throw. "Oh, Turbie!" I called. He turned towards me, just as I released the second missile. An instant later, another soldier collapsed, his arm almost completely amputated at the elbow by the rough lump I'd casually tossed at him.
"Stop it, right now!" Turbo-Boy shouted, his voice carrying all the conviction of a small boy in a playground trying to stand up to an aggressor twice his size. I laughed.
"Stop it or what?" I asked, scooping up yet another chunk of road surface and threatening to launch it, a big grin stretched across my face.
"Stop it or I'll make you stop."
"Well, go on then." I said, trying and failing to keep a straight face. I chucked the third piece of road, this time knocking one of the men off the bridge with it. Ultragirl, who had just returned from carrying a couple of the soldiers to safety, dived after him. I put my hands on my hips and rocked with laughter.
"That's enough!" cried Turbo-Boy, charging at me. I stayed motionless as he streaked over. He delivered a mad succession of punches to my face. Although I'm sure he was many times stronger than a "normal" man, he was certainly not in Ultragirl's class in terms of strength. Compared with me, he may as well have been normal. I didn't even have to try to ignore his blows. When he saw he was getting precisely nowhere, he started to hit me repeatedly in the belly. That was even less effective than the assault on my head.
"Is that it?" I asked, making sure I sounded slightly disinterested. "Is that all you've got?" I took my left hand off my hip and, extending two fingers, shoved him gently in the chest. He flew about five yards backwards, landing on his rear. Immediately, he got up and came at me again, so I flicked him away once more. The second time, he was a little slower to regain his feet. I strolled across to stand over him as he rose.
Before he properly regained his footing, he kicked out at me. I caught his foot and pushed on it, forcing him back down hard onto his backside. From his prone position, he thrashed his legs wildly, like a beetle stuck on its back. His boots impacted with my knees and shins, but they caused about as much discomfort as a gentle breeze. I grabbed hold of one ankle and hoisted him into the air, upside down, dangling from my single hand. Then I spun him around, over my head, as if he was weightless. I let go and he sailed off, rotating as he flew away from me.
It took him some time to regain control of himself. Eventually, though, he was able to bring his flight powers into play and stop himself spinning. Then he turned in the air and rocketed straight back towards me like a missile. His hands were by his sides, and I think his intention was to turn himself into a (super)human torpedo and ram me.
He probably thought he was travelling pretty fast, but I had all the time in the world to anticipate his arrival. I realised he was heading directly for my head, perhaps hoping the impact would knock me unconscious. I waited patiently for him to arrive and, timing things with my usual perfection, leapt upwards a little just as he was about to strike me. As a result, he missed my skull completely. And my neck.
Turbo-Boy slammed into me, head first, flying at his top spefed, exactly at the centre of my chest. His superhuman skull tried to force my generous breasts apart and succeeded for a brief moment, only to discover that my feminine mounds are vastly more "super" than his manly head. By then, of course, it was too late. He was wedged. The momentum of his flight carried the rest of his body forward, his torso whacking into my stomach and groin, followed by his knees hitting my ankles. His boots scraped a small hole in the road. But his head did not move.
He screamed in pain and shock but the sound was muffled. I laughed. It took me a moment to realise that he was frantically trying to free himself. His hands came up, gripping my shoulders and his huge biceps bulged awesomely as he tried to push himself away from me, without success. I felt something pressing into my knee and realised that it was his "super" manhood, swollen to full size by the intimate embrace of his face.
"Are you comfortable in there, Turbo?" I asked.
"Mmmmph mmm mmph phmmm!" he yelled back.
"What's that?" I enquired. "You want me to squeeze you?"
"Oh, alright then." I used my upper arms against the outside of my mounds to gently push them closer to each other. Turbo-Boy's panicked attempts to get himself away from me intensified and I realised that I was really hurting him, pressing my soft (to me) breasts against his temples. By now, the poor lad's predicament had finally come to Ultragirl's attention. I noticed her poised to intervene, so I kept her busy by blowing another blast of superbreath at the still retreating soldiers, causing most of them to lose their footing and roll perilously close to the edge of the ravine.
Of course, Ultragirl immediately set about rescuing them, leaving me alone with her little friend once again. Meanwhile, Turbo's struggles were getting ever weaker (if that was possible) and his stifled cries were becoming increasingly half-hearted. I jiggled my upper body a little, making his head and his whole frame shake wildly. He was still vibrating when I stopped. I soon found out why.
Turbo's torso jerked violently against my stomach and he started to shake of his own accord. I felt a dramatic tensing of the muscles in his groin. "Mmmmggggggg!" he screamed (or something like that anyway) as he soaked the front of his costume with jet after jet of semen, still struggling (albeit rather pathetically by then) to release his head from its prison.
"Oh dear, Turbie!" I tutted. "You've made a complete mess of yourself. That really wasn't very heroic, was it?" He didn't even manage so much as a "Mmph" in reply. I squeezed my chest a little bit harder with my arms, transferring millions of pounds per square inch of pressure through my breasts to his skull. His fists beat weakly against my shoulders a couple of times, so I tightened my embrace of myself (and, by extension, of his head).
Suddenly, he stopped hitting me. He stopped doing anything. His arms fell away, hanging limp by his sides. The tip of his cock was no longer pressing the sticky dampness of his costume into my leg. He was just hanging from my cleavage like a dead weight. I used a single hand on the back of his head to pull him out and found out why. He was a dead weight.
His face was bruised almost black. His eyes were open wide, a shocked expression permanently frozen in them. I could have sworn that his head looked a little narrower than before, especially from the ears up. I held his limp body up high, my arm fully extended with my left hand around his neck.
"Hey, Ultragirl!" I called out. She was out of sight, helping the last of the soldiers to safety at the bottom of the ravine under the bridge. I've got to admit, that was a clever move. I couldn't make any of them fall from there. When she flew back up, I proudly showed her what was left of her sidekick. "I'm afraid I broke your toy." I said, flinging his useless corpse away with a casual flick of my wrist. It soared off into the distance.
Ultragirl hesitated for a moment before screaming "No! No! No!" Then, she glared at me. "You'll pay for that, you murderous bitch!" she hissed. At last, the men were out of the picture. It was time for the real contest of power. Finally, we faced each other: Ultragirl and me.
And that's where I'll leave it for today. I do love suspense!
Thursday 31 March 2005 23:14 GMT
ontinuing where I left of yesterday...
Ultragirl's cry was barely past her lips, and Turbo-Boy's body was still falling towards the ground in the distance when she came at me. She flew, faster than I'd seen her do it on our previous encounters, right at me. Not making the same mistake as her erstwhile colleague, she attacked feet first, her boots coming for me like twin missiles.
I could tell her anger was lending her power, and I braced myself, expecting the strongest impact of my life. And that's just what I got. She must have struck me hard enough to split the entire planet open! Her soles slammed into my flat slender belly with a Bang! that echoed through the landscape, making the bridge shake with the ferocity of a seismic event.
The only problem (from Ultragirl's perspective) was that I was ready for it. Sure, I felt the twin smack in the stomach (felt it pretty intensely, actually), but it didn't knock me back. My slim body remained rooted to the spot. Instead it was her who moved, bouncing back from me almost as fast as she had arrived.I heard her cry of "Ooof" as the shock of the collision registered with her. I managed not only to remain silent, but also to keep any acknowledgement of the tremendous force she had used from my face. She regained control and flew at me once more, this time aiming her boot-soles at my head.
She didn't hit me so hard that time. The sound wasn't as dramatic and the feeling was impressive, but easily manageable. My face bore the assault without me noticing significant discomfort. She didn't rebound so far either, quickly spinning in the air to attack again. Now she flew headfirst, her hands outstretched. She placed them around my neck and squeezed, using her powers of flight to lift me from the bridge at the same time.
She was trying to strangle me, but I found I could breathe easily (not that I needed to, anyway, but it was interesting to see that she was failing to restrict my throat). If anything, her hands felt good against my skin. I reached up to grab her around the waist, pulling my body towards hers. Immediately, she let go of my neck and started to fly higher and higher.
It was absolutely thrilling, riding on Ultragirl as she took us both up into the atmosphere. She's obviously accustomed to the gravitational forces associated with rapid ascent. I'm less so, but I found the sensation wonderful. I pulled myself tighter and tighter towards her, feeling my large breasts pressing against her own mighty chest, her superhuman body compressing my own very slightly in a way that poor old Turbo-Boy's could not.
I found myself getting increasingly turned on as we soared. I started to use my hands on Ultragirl's waist to move her body against mine. Our chests rubbed together hard (hard enough, I'm sure, for us to have crushed diamonds between them) and every time one of my nipples touched one of hers a jolt of pure sexual pleasure ripped through me.
Her hands were on top of mine now, trying to prise me off her, but I held on tight. Still she carried us both ever higher, reaching now towards the very edge of space. I was practically writhing around on her, pressing my body against hers, rubbing myself on her, marvelling at the way her wondrous, so-feminine-yet-so-hard curves felt. My eyes were shut as I concentrated on the sensations within. In so many ways I felt close to heaven.
I don't know why, but for some reason, I opened my eyes. And saw stars. They were faint, but unmistakable. It was the only time in my life I'd ever seen them during the day, and it brought home to me just how amazing our location was. And that's when the switch in my brain flicked over.
Ultragirl was flying, flying us, into outer space! I wasn't flying. She was. I can't fly. What if we became separated? I mean, I'd no fears of the lack of air or pressure, but how would I get home? And then, suddenly, it occurred to me that Ultragirl might be planning to do just that. To leave me stranded, floating helplessly in the void.
In a moment that was the closest I've ever been to panic, I released my hug and, as quickly as possible, pushed myself away from her, making sure my back was to the world far, far below. I was still well within the bounds of its gravity and I was instantly, to my great relief, under its spell. I began the longest fall on Earth: the fall to Earth.
And that's a great place to leave things until next time...