Making love with Ultragirl is a lovely way to pass a couple of days. It's certainly helped her to recuperate from her brush with that alien weapon.
You might think that, with a possible fight against an invading alien force just around the corner, we'd be conserving our energy. But that just shows how little you know. Thanks to my super loving, Ultra is completely healed and so much more powered-up than when she first arrived. And me? Ha! "Donating" some of my power to her hasn't affected me in the slightest. I don't do "tired", remember?
Anyway, when we haven't been exploring every inch of each others' glorious bodies, we've been watching the skies. They're definitely up there. Dozens and dozens of tiny ships skirting the edges of Earth's atmosphere. The activity seems to be increasing. I'm still not sure that Ultragirl is right about their intent, but they're clearly planning something.
Tonight, we're going to pay a very quiet little visit to the fringes of the Asteroid Belt where the bulk of them seem to be based for now. Hopefully, we might find out what they're up to.
Friday 3 February 2006 18:01 GMT
My word, there’s a lot of ships out there!
I mean, tens and tens of thousands. Just hovering silently in space, about a million miles beyond the orbit of Mars. It looks like they’re continuing to arrive from wherever it is they’re coming from. We saw a couple of dozen more joining the huge group while we were out there.
We also saw the mother-ship. And it really is one mother of a ship. It must be three miles long, a mile high and half a mile across. Ultragirl scanned her superhuman eyes all over the surface of it. I used my even-more-super eyesight. We failed to locate a single window or obvious opening anywhere.
I tried using my X-ray vision with little more success. I could penetrate about eight inches into the unknown alloy of the outer shell but all I could see was more solid metal. No matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t see anything more of the inside.
Not wanting to attract any attention, I decided it was not worth risking getting closer to the thing to try and hear what was going on inside. They’d already “met” Ultra and tried out their big weapon on her. They don’t need to know about me… yet. Not until they do something to piss me off anyway.
We returned from our scouting mission, discussing the situation using the air we’d stored in our super lungs before leaving Earth.
“Well, it’s obvious they’re planning to invade.” Ultragirl said.
“They still haven’t actually done anything.” I pointed out.
“By the time they do, it could be too late! We need to attack now and catch them off-guard,” she protested.
“No. Let’s see what they’re up to first.”
Ultragirl looked at me, unsure. I returned her gaze with one of steely determination. It was enough to convince her that arguing wouldn’t change my mind. We completed the trip home in silence after that.
We’d been back in my flat for barely a minute (hardly even enough time for me to stuff a water-bottle in Duane’s mouth and flush the toilet beneath him) when Ultragirl shouted “Hey! Look! There’s one of them entering the atmosphere right above us!”
I looked up, narrowing my eyes to see through the ceiling and the flats above and the roof and the clouds. Sure enough, one of the thousands of small craft we’d seen hovering near Mars was streaking down through the atmosphere. I left Duane and dashed at superspeed to Ultra. “I suppose we’d better check it out.” I said, slightly annoyed. I had been planning to spend the next few hours enjoying the delights of her body.
“Don’t get too close.” I warned as we took off through the window. “We’re just observing for now.” I reminded her.
“Hey! Who said you were in charge?” Ultra demanded, semi-seriously.
“You want to fight me to see who’s top dog?” I asked, deadly seriously. She didn’t answer. Not talking, we trailed the saloon-car-sized ship as it streaked downwards.
Anyway, I’ll let you know what we saw next time.
Monday 6 February 2006 17:16 GMT
So… Ultragirl and I were tailing a small alien craft as it dipped into the atmosphere. You do remember that from last time, right? Anyway…
“It’s unmanned!” Ultra turned to speak to me, mid-flight.
“Don’t you mean unaliened?” I joked. Unlike the massive mother-ship hovering so sinisterly out beyond the orbit of Mars, the little vessel we were following was completely penetrable to X-ray vision. There was nothing inside but bizarre-looking machinery including miles and miles of strange tubing. No sign of any “seats” or anything that resembled organic life as I know it.
The craft changed course quite suddenly, a clear demonstration of the impressive technology behind its propulsion and guidance systems. Nothing made on Earth could have executed such a sharp re-orientation whilst accelerating so dramatically as it turned towards the surface. Of course, such mid-air acrobatics were no challenge for my flight powers. I’m a damn sight more manoeuvrable (not to mention fast) than any space-ship, whatever its origin. Even Ultragirl, heavily boosted by so much love-making with me, had no trouble keeping on track behind the mystery probe.
We were closing on the ground, the nocturnal countryside spread out below. Only a few scattered cottages and farm buildings dotted the landscape and I was beginning to wonder if whoever was controlling the vessel was seeking to land it in as isolated a spot as possible. In fact, as it turned out, I was wrong about both the “landing” and the “isolated” parts.
It decelerated in an instant, quite a feat for a ship travelling at such speed. Especially when achieved sixty feet above ground. One moment it was streaking downwards from the clouds, the next it was hovering motionless immediately above a large farm house. I mimicked its sudden stop and so did Ultra. We glanced at each other for a moment, and then I used my superhuman eye-sight to check out the building directly beneath the alien craft.
It looked like a normal house, with a normal family asleep within. I scanned the rooms, spotting a middle-aged couple in a double bed in one, a girl in her late-teens under a blanket in another, and a slightly younger boy in a third. There was even a dog in a basket in the kitchen.
“Hey, look!” Ultragirl hissed, making me look away from the house and follow the direction indicated by her pointed finger. That’s when I saw the underside of the alien craft appearing to rotate. A small aperture appeared in the centre, revealing the end of a short metallic cylinder.
“It’s a weapon!” she cried. “We’ve got to save those people!”
“Why?” I asked. Did she know those people from somewhere? I couldn’t understand why she’d want to put herself at risk for a bunch of strangers. She’d probably call it “heroism” or something corny like that, but I’d call it “stupidity.”
She made a swoop towards the craft. I took off in pursuit. I could hear the whining drone of an energy build-up inside the little ship. Clearly, something was about to be discharged through that opening. Having recently been badly hurt by an alien laser, I couldn’t believe she wanted to put herself into the path of another, but she positioned herself right in front of the mysterious metal tube.
There was a “whumpf” sound. The edge of the tube began to glow. Something overcame me. I can’t explain it and I don’t think anything like it has ever happened to me before. I got a sudden inner compulsion to get Ultragirl out of the way of the beam before it fired.
Now, my feelings for Ultra are well-documented. She’s gorgeous. And, yeah, she’s a great lay. The very best, even. But it’s not as though I’m especially fond of her socially. I wouldn’t call her my “friend”. I don’t have friends. Don’t need them, don’t want them. And I certainly do not in any sense of the word, harbour any sentiments towards her that could be classified as what other people call “love.” That’s not a concept that ever touches my existence.
So, I just cannot explain that strange need to save her from the beam. Probably, it was the side-effect of exposure to some unknown kind of alien radiation. Or something like that. Anyway, before I even fully realised what I was doing, I had flown in and shoved her aside.
I was just in time. A shaft of dazzling yellow light shot out of that tube almost as I was pushing Ultragirl out of the way. The outer edge of the beam grazed her arm as she was flung aside by the force of my intervention at several thousand miles an hour. She rocketed away, screaming. I couldn’t tell if she was yelling because I’d shoved her or because laser had wounded her.
She was still moving away as I looked down and saw the intense yellow light now bathing most of the house below. The laser-beam began to pulsate. The very bricks of the building seemed to be glowing yellow. And then it ceased all together. The aperture in the bottom of the small ship began to close. Ultragirl regained control of her flight and turned in the air to come rocketing back towards me just as the craft unexpectedly shot straight up into the sky.
“What the hell did you do that for?” Ultra demanded as she caught up with me.
“The last time one of these things shot at you, it nearly killed you.” I reminded her.
“That wasn’t the same kind of weapon!” she protested. “How could you leave those people unprotected?”
“They’re just people.” I said, shrugging. “They seem fine to me anyway.” I added, glancing down at the house.
“No thanks to you!” she chided me. I rolled my eyes. “But… they are fine.” Ultra admitted after checking them out for herself. “That’s strange. That energy burnt like hell and it barely touched me. It blasted the house for five seconds and it doesn’t seem to have done anything.”
“Maybe you’re a bit too sensitive.” I joked. I studied the house and its occupants once more with my X-ray vision. “There’s no sign of anything having changed down there at all I said. Everyone’s still happily asleep in bed - Mum, Dad, Junior and - hey!”
“What is it?” Ultragirl asked, looking for herself and finding the answer. “The girl! She’s… gone!”
There was a muffled Bang! from below. I immediately looked towards its source and saw the building’s front door was now open and hanging at an angle, some of its hinges apparently broken. There was no sign of anyone or anything either side of the door. “Weird.” I observed.
“That beam…” Ultragirl started thinking out loud, “..what was it?”
“How should I know?” I answered.
“My arm’s still stinging where it touched me,” she admitted, “and I think it’s completely vaporised that poor young woman!”
“Looks like it.” I said. I couldn’t think up another explanation for the girl’s disappearance.
“You should have let me shield her!” Ultragirl said, accusingly.
“And let you get vaporised? I thought you wanted to save all the helpless little people of Earth. How were you going to do that dead?” I countered. Her expression told me she accepted my argument. “How’s your arm?” I asked
“Then you’d better get back to my place and check it out properly.” I advised.
“And you?” she asked.
“I’m going after that little ship. I want to bring back that weapon. There’s a couple of people I know who should take a look at it.” I explained.
“Be careful!” Ultragirl called after me. I laughed at the thought as I shot away after the tiny space-ship.
But I’ll leave that for next time…
Tuesday 7 February 2006 17:38 GMT
So, Ultragirl headed back towards my flat rubbing her arm where the yellow energy beam had hit it whilst I set off in pursuit of the probe that had fired the thing.
Wherever the aliens came from, they certainly had a very impressive level of technology. That little ship really could move! There can only be a tiny handful of objects that have travelled so fast away from the Earth. Certainly, I can only think of one that has ever travelled faster…
Yes, folks, you can add “faster than a speeding alien spaceship” to the long list of my fabulous abilities. You see, even as the thing streaked out towards space, powered by its mysterious extraterrestrial engines, I was following behind, closing the gap between us by the second, powered only by my fantastic body and its mind-boggling power.
Evidently, the computer (or alien being or whatever it was) that was controlling the craft became aware of my presence. It tried to shake me off its tail by executing a series of tight, sudden and apparently random zigzag manoeuvres. Of course, I just kept up my chase throughout. My reactions were too swift and my control over my flight powers too complete to be tested by any artificial steering mechanism, no matter how hyper-advanced it was.
All that changing of directions slowed the ship down far more than I needed to decelerate to copy its flight-path. Whereas I had been slowly closing in on it, now I found I was rapidly nearing. In a couple of minutes, with the Earth far enough below for whole continents to be visible under my feet, I got within reach.
I stretched out my arm, and touched the smooth metallic shell of the small craft. Tentatively, I began closing my fingers around a convenient edge. To my satisfaction, the metal began to deform just like good old steel under my fingertips as I got a solid, one-handed grip on it. Then I braced my extended arm and brought myself to a stop, just hovering there out in the vacuum of space.
I could feel the whole craft vibrating as its powerful unworldly engines tried with all their might to pull away from me, but my dainty-looking fingers held it firm. My slender arm wasn’t even particularly taxed by the effort. In the end, I found that I’d conquered the alien ship’s propulsion systems with no more difficulty than I would have encountered stopping a speeding bus. (In other words, it was easy.)
I spent a couple of moments just studying the probe with idle curiosity as I held it fast. Trying to turn it around to see the other side of it, I failed to notice that the engines were still working flat-out to try and escape me. The entire thing shuddered violently for a moment before a tiny crack appeared right where I was gripping the surface. Instantly, a small shower of sparks erupted from the small fissure, covering my arm in little glowing points, but (obviously) not causing me any discomfort.
After that, the vibrating stopped. The mini internal explosion must have been the death-throes of the propulsion system. I’d disabled the ship without even trying! Laughing, I turned around, heading back to Earth and dragging the deactivated alien craft behind me. I knew exactly where I was taking it.
Ten minutes later, I was smashing bare-feet-first through the steel-reinforced concrete ceiling of a university laboratory complex. I hovered when my ankles were just inside the building and casually kicked out a wider opening in the roof, letting the debris rain down inside. I needed a large hole so that the captured ship didn’t get scratched as I brought it in.
I landed amidst the rubble and dust and set the craft down beside me. Only when I heard the protesting creaks of the floor beneath did I realise that the probe, despite its small size, actually weighed a couple of tonnes. (It had felt light as a sheet of paper to me.)
I cast about the room, spotting a familiar figure crawling awkwardly from under a small pile of concrete fragments. “Hey, Phil!” I called. “Remember me?”
“You!” the white-coated middle aged man exclaimed, wiping the dust from his eyes as he gingerly stood up. “You could have killed me!”
“I will if you don’t shut up.” I told him. He didn’t contest the threat. After all, the last time we’d met I’d left him sitting on the floor of his lab with eighty feet of steel handrail from the building’s staircase wrapped around his body…
“You have to do something for me, Phil,” I informed him. I pointed to the little ship. “This is an alien probe I’ve just caught.”
“You heard. There’s a weapon inside it. Some kind of energy beam. Find out what it is and what it does. You’ve got twenty-four hours. Oh, and if you tell anyone about this before I get back tomorrow you’re a dead man. Understood?” He nodded.
I took off, straight up through the ceiling once more, puncturing a second (smaller) hole in the thick roof just to the side of the one I’d created upon entering. After that, I headed for home. Seeing as Ultragirl was there, it seemed wrong not to make the most of her presence…
More next time.
Wednesday 8 February 2006 17:36 GMT
Ultragirl was waiting for me as I swooped back through the window into my flat.
“How’s your arm?” I asked her.
“Um, better,” she said. I went quickly over to kiss her. “Not now,” she said, pulling back, “we need to stay alert.”
“Look, if anything major starts, we’ll know about it.” I argued. “Besides my little scientist friend needs a day to analyse the probe. We should be in a much better position to deal with these… things once we know a bit more about their technology. In the meantime, we can keep ourselves busy.” I made it extremely clear how I intended us to keep busy by leaning towards her once more with my lips pushed out.
“No!” she said. I ignored her and continued to approach for the kiss. “I said ‘No’!” she reiterated, her hands coming up to my shoulders. I expected her to offer token resistance for a moment which I would easily overpower before she would, as ever, yield. That seemed to be the game with her. At least I thought it was.
I was astonished to feel her gripping my shoulders tighter than ever. She was pushing me away. Shocked, I leant into her harder, certain that she wouldn’t be able to hold me off after that. But she did. Before I knew it, I was in a physical struggle, having to actually make an effort to fight against the force with which she was repelling me.
“Wow, girl,” I observed, “have you been eating spinach while I was out?”
“No..” she replied, speaking through gritted teeth. She was having to work quite hard to keep me at bay, but I couldn’t deny that she was making things a lot harder than I’m used to. “…but I do feel, um, different.”
“You’re stronger.” I said, sure of the fact. I brought my palm up to her belly and shoved her gently in the stomach. The push forced her to take a couple of steps backwards before she recovered herself. The previous day, the same shove would have sent her crashing into (and probably through) the far wall. “And tougher.” I added.
There was a pause. “The beam!” we both cried in unison, having simultaneously hit upon the only possible conclusion.
“How come it’s made me stronger, but completely vaporised that poor girl in the farmhouse?” Ultragirl wondered.
“Maybe it affects superhuman metabolisms differently?” I suggested, walking towards her. I leant in from behind and kissed the side of her neck. She shuddered with the contact and turned to face me.
“We really shouldn’t-“ she began.
“-But we are!” I pointed out, the fingertips of my left hand already tracing the outer edge of her wonderful right breast.
“OK…” she sighed, her lips almost touching mine, “but we should be quick.”
“Oh yes.” I agreed, my tongue flicking out and caressing the tip of hers.
It wasn’t until many, many hours later that we both arrived, together, at the laboratory. But that can wait until my next post.
Thursday 9 February 2006 17:16 GMT
“So, what’ve you found?” I asked the terrified university scientist as Ultragirl and I descended through the hole in the roof into the lab.
“Ah, not much…” he started. He must’ve caught the angry glint in my eye as he hurried to backtrack: “I mean, it hasn’t been a whole day and it’s very hard working on my own on this. I’ve done the best that I can although-“
“-So what have you found?” I demanded, again, not interested in excuses.
“Right, yes… of course…” Men, especially terrified men, are so slow getting their thoughts together... “Well,” he finally began, “the whole thing is made of some kind of alloy, possibly containing an element previously unknown to us. It’s fabulously resilient. I couldn’t cut it or manipulate it at all!”
I strolled over to the probe which was still on the floor where I’d left it the previous day. “Obviously,” I said, gripping a ridge of mystery alloy and squeezing it between my thumb and forefinger, making the metal creak loudly and severely denting it, “you weren’t trying hard enough.”
The idiot muttered an expletive and looked up at me in shock. Ignoring his surprise at my strength (I get it all the time) I asked him “What about the weapon?”
“The weapon… ah yes. It’s some kind of energy beam…” he said.
“I could have told you that!” I exclaimed.
“I thought you said this guy was good.” Ultragirl turned to me, accusingly. The scientist shot her a nervous glance, then looked back at me, clearly rather scared.
“He’s supposed to be the best.” I said. “Maybe he just needs some encouragement,” I suggested, taking a couple of steps towards him.
He started to back away clumsily. “Wait! I… I’ve done the best I can! No-one else could have discovered more in the time! I’ve studied the mechanism attached to the firing tube in great detail… it’s just that there’s…. well there’s nothing I recognise in there! It’s all completely… er… completely alien.” He protested.
“Duh!” I said.
“No, I mean there’s nothing that looks like a power supply. I… No-one… could identify the type of energy it uses because it’s impossible to see how and where that energy is stored or generated!” he explained.
“We need to know about that energy,” I told him, “What it does, how it affects its target. My friend here-“ I nodded at Ultragirl “-took a slight hit and it’s given her a bit of a boost.”
“But it seems to have vaporised an ordinary girl and left the rest of her family untouched.” Ultragirl went on. “Any idea how or why?”
“Was the girl completely vaporised? If there are any, er, remains, I might be able to analyse them and learn about the energy that way,” The scientist offered.
“No remains. I saw her there before the thing fired, but I wasn’t looking at her at that moment. When I checked later, there was no trace where she’d been.” I admitted.
“Hmmm. This could tie in with something that occurred to me while I was checking out the beam-delivery tube. Have you considered the possibility that the girl was not actually vaporised by the beam?”
“Then what do you suggest happened to her?” asked Ultragirl.
“Perhaps this beam isn’t actually a weapon as such…” he postulated.
“It certainly hurt like a weapon when it hit me.” Ultra pointed out.
“But it didn’t do any damage. Quite the contrary from what you say,” the scientist pointed out.
“So,” I said, “if it’s not a weapon, what is it?”
“I.. just don’t know,” he confessed. “There’re too many things in there that are unidentifiable.”
“Did you get anywhere with the propulsion mechanism?” I wondered.
“It’s the same problem. I can give you a whole list of things it’s not but without seeing it in action I can only guess how it works,” he said.
“Could you make it work again?” Ultragirl questioned.
“I’ve tried, but so far… nothing,” he said. “I’m sorry. Maybe with a bit more time…”
I turned to Ultragirl. “Never, ever, rely on a man.” I told her. Looking back at the lab man I told him “I’ll be back soon. You’d better have something more worthwhile by then.” Then, facing Ultra once more, I announced, “Let’s go!”
I took off through the roof with her following close behind. Once outside, she flew alongside me. “You know, you didn’t need to be so hard on him,” she said. “He’s doing the best he can.”
“He’s a man.” I dismissed her opinion. “Threats are the only way you can get through to their simple brains.”
As expected, she gave me some crap about human beings and respect and good turns, but naturally I wasn’t listening. I was looking up, through the upper atmosphere, into space, trying to spot any more alien craft, but there were none.
Ultragirl droned on: “…to every being no matter how much weaker than you they are. In fact, especially if they are weaker than- What the hell is that?!?”
The sudden change of subject mid-lecture was enough to recapture my attention. She was pointing at something down on the ground, about a mile beneath us. I zoomed in with my vision at the incredible scene below. “I think we’ve found out what happened to the girl in the farmhouse.” I opined.
“Is…that… her?” Ultra asked. But we both knew it was. We dived down.
Next time: what happened to the girl from the farmhouse.
Friday 10 February 2006 17:52 GMT
As I swooped nearer, I compared the girl I could see in the centre of the remarkable scenes below with the one I had briefly observed in bed in the farmhouse that the probe had zapped. There was no question it was the same person.
She was about seventeen years old with long straight light-brown hair. Quite pretty by other people’s standards with a cute nose, and deep red pout. She had what would be considered a great figure if it wasn’t in direct comparison with mine (slim, large breasts, longish legs). As for clothes, she appeared to be wearing what had once been a loose T-shirt, but was now just a series of torn rags that just about remained on her body. Her long left arm hung free by her side and her right was outstretched perpendicular to her torso.
Oh, and did I mention she was holding the back end of a large car in the air at the end of that slender arm?
The front wheels of the vehicle were still on the road so she was keeping it at a forty-five degree angle. She seemed to be quite comfortable supporting all that weight. There were three people in the car, all in various states of panic. Many more people were running up and down the pavements on either side of the street, shouting.
To add to the chaotic scene, a lamppost had been ripped out of its concrete base in the middle of the road and thrown, apparently with considerable force, through the window of a furniture store. Shattered glass littered the sidewalk, and about half of the lamp’s stalk was protruding from the shop. The other end was embedded in a heavy oak dining table.
The sounds of approaching sirens were clearly audible. I hovered about twenty feet above the girl. Ultragirl was a few yards above me. Evidently, the girl from the farm had the attention of everyone on the ground, because no-one pointed Ultra or me out. As far as I could tell, farmhouse-girl didn’t even know that we were there. She was looking at the car she was holding, watching as one of the passengers fought to open the nearside back door.
She spoke: “This area is to be kept clear.” Her tone was flat and completely emotionless. As she finished delivering her statement, she bent and re-straightened her arm, flinging the car away from herself as though it was nothing more than an apple core. The vehicle flipped end over end, rising all the while, heading for a major collision with the first floor windows of a department store.
“Oh no! The people!” Ultragirl cried, setting off after the car. She caught it just before it slammed into the building, slowly carrying it down to the ground. A small crowd gathered around her. The girl who had thrown the car remained static in the middle of the road. I observed as a well-built young man broke away from the confused groups on the side of the street and strolled confidently towards her.
As he got close he said something like “Hey babe, that’s a good trick.” The girl didn’t respond or even so much as acknowledge his presence until, suddenly, when he was just a step away from her, he left arm flashed out, brushing him aside with a cold efficiency. As she swatted him away, she repeated her dead-pan mantra: “This area is to be kept clear.”
Ultragirl was still tending to the unconscious occupants of the car she had caught, so (as I don’t do “riding to the rescue”) there was no-one to save the young man as he rocketed over the heads of a bunch of startled onlookers and slammed into a brick wall. He bounced off it and fell the remaining ten feet to the ground, not moving.
A squeal of brakes alerted the girl (and me) to another car that had approached, seen the young woman in the centre of the street and stopped quickly. She turned and began walking briskly towards it. In the meantime, another vehicle came down the road and was forced to halt behind the first one. A third car joined the queue, its driver obviously unaware of the nature of the blockage as he impatiently honked his horn.
The farmhouse girl walked up to the front vehicle and with the minimum of movement, kicked it under the front fender with her right foot. That was enough to lift the car up off the ground, flipping it over in the process. It was still airborne as she strolled into the space it had previously occupied to repeat her kicking trick with the second car in the line. Now there were two cars spinning end-over-end away down the street.
A couple of seconds later and the third vehicle joined in the spectacular flight. “This area is to be kept clear,” the girl said robotically as she launched car number three.
Ultragirl was by my side at superspeed. “Aren’t you going to do something?” she asked, amazed. I shrugged. In truth, I was just enjoying the show. Ultra set off as fast as she could after the still-flying trio of cars. She displayed incredible skill and control to catch two of them and set them down before saving the third on a well-directed cushion of her superbreath. It all made for quite an exciting spectacle.
My supersenses told me that all but one of the cars’ occupants had been killed by the initial jolts as the girl had kicked their rides making Ultra’s efforts less worthwhile, but she did look good (damn good) racing around, doing her heroine thing.
She shot over to me. “Are you just going to let her kill innocent people?” she demanded.
“This area is to be kept clear.” We both turned to see whom or what the girl’s latest monotonous announcement was aimed at. A policeman had run up towards her and dived at her, trying to get his hands around her neck. She grabbed his wrist with a single hand and, in one movement, pulled him off her back and tossed him into the sky. Ultragirl flew after him, gathering him in her arms and bringing him down to safety.
I was still watching her when I heard a loud Crunch! and turned just in time to see the girl slamming her fist through the flashing light on the top of a police car. Her arm continued its descent, slicing through the car’s roof. The officer inside leapt out of the driver’s seat and rolled away as she pulled her arm out, grabbed hold of the torn roof and lifted the entire vehicle into the air. She threw the car towards a large group of cowering on-lookers. Ultragirl had to twist in mid-flight and swoop fast to save them from being crushed. She snatched the car out of the air and placed it safely on an empty patch of pavement.
Meanwhile the girl had approached the fleeing policeman, picking him up by the back of his neck as though he weighed only a few ounces. His legs dangled uselessly by her ankles as she announced, still without any hint of emotion, “This area is to be kept clear.” Then she flung him away.
I could have watched her in action all day. I mean, I’ve never been lucky enough to be able to observe myself in action, and this was the next best thing. I can see why people just stand in awe when I’m doing my stuff. It is an amazing sight.
Anyway, I said I could have watched her all day. Unfortunately for her, she was indiscriminate choosing the direction in which to toss her latest victim. The policeman flew like a rocket straight at me. He slammed, full-on, against my front. I heard the impact knocking all the air from him just before a couple of his ribs broke as they smacked into my chest. I let him bounce off me and fall to the ground.
“Hey, farm girl!” I shouted. “Watch where you tossing stuff, eh?”
“This area is to be kept clear.” She answered, walking towards me. As I was still twenty feet up, she had to leap to catch me. She did it surprisingly well, hardly bending her knees at all to spring straight up towards me. She grabbed my neck when we were level. I could feel her fingers trying to squeeze me. They didn’t hurt but they were pressing my perfect flesh hard enough to annoy me, which is a pretty amazing achievement for anyone, let alone a seventeen year old girl.
That was the first time I got to see her eyes. They were remarkable. So utterly expressionless, like gateways to infinite black voids. Her lips (when she wasn’t repeating her mantra) were closed and unsmiling. You’d think that someone having as much fun as she appeared to be would have been able to manage a grin, but not this girl.
She was trying to pull me down to the ground. When she realised that she couldn’t, she punched me in the stomach. The sound of her small fist hitting my flat abdomen echoed loudly up and down the street, smashing a couple of the windows that had survived up to that point. She hit me hard. Phenomenally hard. It actually made me say “Ouch!”
“This area is to be kept clear,” she droned, preparing to punch me again.
“Oh no. No-one gets to do that to me twice.” I told her. I caught her fist mid-blow. I had to use a lot of strength to force it back, but I managed. And I still had my other hand free. “My turn to punch you!” I informed her, delightedly.
I didn’t hold back. I hit her with more-or-less everything I had. Regular readers will know that I hate to brag about my power, but (just for the record) I reckon that punch could have shattered the moon to a billion fragments. It was that good.
The girl shot away from me, doubling over around the point of impact. Her back hit the department store front, halfway between the first and second floors. Her body carved a neat channel right through the concrete and steel of the building, emerging in a huge shower of brick and stone from the back of the shop.
She kept going, smashing through an office block, destroying dozens of desks and even steel filing cabinets on her way through.
“Couldn’t you have punched her upwards?” Ultragirl asked, appearing at my side.
“This way is more fun.” I explained, watching the farmhouse girl crashing through a big oak tree and cutting it in half before she crashed through the side of a house, sending broken bricks scattering in all directions. Then, everything was still.
“Is she dead?” asked Ultragirl. I checked with my super eyesight and hearing. Next time, I let you know what I saw and heard.
Monday 20 February 2006 17:42 GMT
Alright, a quick re-cap of where things were left off:
A vast armada of alien ships is hovering menacingly just beyond the orbit of Mars. Along with countless smaller vessels, an enormous mother-ship lurks silently. Having come under hostile (and painful) attack from that huge craft, Ultragirl came to me to beg for help taking on the extraterrestrials. I wasn’t so keen to charge in until I was sure of the visitors’ intentions.
With that in mind, Ultra and I followed an unpiloted scout craft as it dipped into Earth’s atmosphere. We saw the little ship fire a beam of energy at a farm-house. We were distracted at the time, but a young woman whom we had both spotted in the farmhouse appeared to have disappeared when next we checked. The beam brushed Ultragirl’s arm, hurting her but (as we later discovered) also increasing her power levels.
I captured the probe and took it to a contact (a top university scientist), demanding that he find out more about it. After nearly a day, he’d achieved next-to-nothing towards that aim. On the way from his lab, we saw from the air the amazing sight of the girl from the farmhouse tossing people and cars around. Naturally we swooped down, and found the young woman in a kind of robotic trance, repeating the phrase “This area is to be kept clear” as she scattered everything and everyone that came near her with a devastating combination of superhuman strength and cold economy of movement.
Ultragirl busied herself protecting the large number of on-lookers and passers-by from flying cars and the like, whilst I took the opportunity to just admire the sight of a (gorgeous, if not quite on my level of physical perfection) fellow superwoman at work. However, once she had unintentionally thrown a policeman into me, I had to act. I mean, it’s one thing to stop traffic, smash up the front of a few buildings, chuck a car or four around, kick a few more into the air and hurt some normal people, but it’s another thing altogether to throw something (even something as harmlessly soft as a uniformed copper) at me. No sooner had the policeman bounced off me (his ribs crumbling against my proud, unyielding breasts without me needed to brace myself for the impact) then the farm-girl and I were in a fight.
She was quite an opponent, too. Her punches didn’t damage me, but they weren’t exactly comfortable. And her body (like I said, really hot by “normal” standards with its more-than-generous curves, narrow waist and long limbs) didn’t dissolve into a billion fragments when I hit her. Eventually, I got her with the mother of all punches. It knocked her through a department store, an office building, a tree-trunk and the side of a house, leaving her buried in rubble. I flew over, hovering in the air, searching with my X-ray vision for her body under all that smashed brick.
But you knew all that already (supposedly). I just wanted to help you out. It can’t be easy when your powers of recall are so weak (compared to mine, anyway). Here’s what happened next:
It was quite a surprise to see the debris beginning to shift around. For an instant, I couldn’t be sure if this was the result of the freshly-smashed up wall settling or if the girl was actually moving down there. The definitive answer wasn’t long in coming. The girl did not stir as if regaining consciousness. She just sat bolt upright, shaking off tons of bits of house from her slender frame, blinked her dull expressionless eyes open and then sprang up to her feet. As she rose through the pile of masonry, her passing body threw chunks of stone and plaster into the air like a fountain. She emerged in a shower of rubble like an erupting geyser.
Her clothes were in a pretty bad state when I had first shown up. After I’d punched her through three stout buildings and she’d shot out from the bottom of a multi-ton heap of debris, it wasn’t a great surprise to see that she was completely naked. I have to say (in the interests of fair, unbiased reporting) that she did have quite a body. I mean, sure she wouldn’t compare favourably with me but no woman ever could. But, by regular human standards, she was stunning. A tiny waist and a perfect flat belly. Below that, her hips curved in ideal proportion. Above, her breasts stood out proudly from her upper torso like twin testaments to the erotic power of femininity. So large, so round, each boasting a big, pink nipple. I’ll admit they were quite a distraction. Her face, with its thick pouting lips wasn’t exactly bad, either (apart from those strange, completely unemotional eyes…)
I was impressed as she rose out of the remains of the wall of the house, and not just by the sight of her breasts. (Although, I was impressed by that sight, too.) Nothing should be able to survive the kind of punch I gave her. She hadn’t only survived. She’d survived apparently unmarked. And, yes, I did look thoroughly for blemishes on her body, especially on her chest (purely for scientific reasons, of course). She turned slowly in my direction, her body revolving fluidly but with an absolute minimum of movement. I’d have expected at least an angry glance from her after what I did, but she barely looked at me. There was absolutely no trace of any emotion (anger or otherwise) on her pretty features.
Suddenly, she charged out of the ruins of the house. I realised at once that she wasn’t running towards me. She was moving extremely fast, and with a complete lack of care for whatever happened to be in her path. She crashed into the side of the office building I’d knocked her through, puncturing a new hole in the block underneath the breach her flying body had cased earlier. I watched with X-ray vision as she ran unblinking through a concrete pillar and a couple of interior walls as though the obstacles simply were not there. Whatever objects were in her way were instantly reduced to fragments as she slammed her stunning front into (and through) them.
I finally realised that she was heading (in a dead straight line) for the exact spot where Ultragirl and I had first spotted her. She was obviously pretty serious about keeping the area clear. I decided to try and find out why. She was moving extremely fast and displaying awesome strength and invulnerability as she smashed her way through to her target. I’d imagine that a large, well-equipped and properly-trained army wouldn’t stand much of a chance against a being of such power (regardless of the fact that the power was packaged as a very sexy, very curvy seventeen year old girl). However, she was not up against an army of any size. She was up against me. And while she was mind-blowingly fast, strong and invulnerable, I, as regular readers know, am faster, stronger and less vulnerable than anything.
I swooped down and superspeed, timing my interception perfectly so that, from her point of view, I would have simply “materialised” right in her path, too close for her to avoid the collision. Actually, I’m not sure she would have avoided the collision even if she had been able. She seemed determined to destroy anything in her way with her body and utterly confident that she could do it. The damage to the house and the office building suggested that her confidence was not ill-placed. But, needless to say, my beautiful body with its perfect contours is a lot harder to dislodge than any mere concrete pillar.
She was roughly the same height as me. I got to look into her stony eyes for a nanosecond before she hit me. I saw nothing there. Not a flicker of concern, nothing at all.
As I’ve already mentioned (well, it was key to the story) she was naked. I’d left home in a T-shirt. It was just an ordinary garment, stolen at superspeed from a high-street store like most of my wardrobe. The only thing special about it was that it was on me (i.e. it was stretched out in ways that make most men lose their puny minds). When she slammed into me, that thin cotton shirt was the only thing between her big, super-firm breasts and my equally sizeable, equally gravity-defying, equally rounded but even more super-firm mounds. The garment never stood a chance. It was vaporised under the incalculable pressure in an instant.
I doubt if ever, in the history of Earth, there has been an impact of such force. Each of her breasts smashed into mine with a power that simply cannot be comprehended by ordinary people. Think of two sets of two massive planets simultaneously crashing full-on into each other and then concentrate all that impact-force into an area the size of a grapefruit. And then triple it.
The girl’s breasts hit me so hard, even I was shocked. My own chest, normally so utterly invincible (remember how it proved completely non-deformable even under the astronomical pressures of the core of the planet Jupiter?) even yielded very, very slightly to hers. I saw the unfamiliar sight of my breasts flattening (albeit almost imperceptively) as her magnificent bosoms crashed against them. It was all I could do not to be thrown backwards by the amazing strength of her bust. I had to quickly summon all my new flight-powers to root myself to the spot. For an instant, I was worried, but somehow, I found just enough strength in my own remarkable body to hold myself still. Just enough. But enough, nonetheless.
Once I’d overcome the laws of the universe that stated that I should have been knocked into orbit by the collision, my breasts were free to begin their own battle against their opposite numbers. I may have mentioned that this girl had a wonderful-looking pair and that they had already displayed a superhuman glory to match their appearance. Anyone interested in hearing about the erotic magnificence and unopposable power of my own endowments should know that the tiny flattening of my breasts was a brief affair. They soon reverted to their normal, perfect shape. Of course that meant they had to push out against the farm-girl’s mounds. My chest quickly showed its superiority, pressing against hers with more power than you can ever imagine until her concrete-and-steel smashing bust had to yield. Suddenly, it was her fabulous breasts that were compressed and my even more fabulous breasts that were doing the compressing.
The eroticism of the view of my glorious, triumphant mounds was not lost on me. I felt so proud of my feminine power at that moment. I was still smiling as the shock of the mighty collision finally worked its way through the farm-girl’s chest and jarred the rest of her body. She showed no surprise at being bested, nor at the tremendous jolt she suffered, but I could tell she was thrown slightly off-guard during that split-second.
I grabbed the opportunity, wrapping my arm in an unshakeable embrace around her neck and flying straight up as fast as I could, carrying the seemingly indestructible young woman with me. In seconds we reached the very limits of Earth’s upper atmosphere. Remembering how a certain someone had nearly done for me in the days before I gained flight-powers, I tightened my grip on the girl’s neck, carrying her towards the edge of space.
And next time, I’ll tell you what happened once I finally got her out among the stars…
Tuesday 21 February 2006 18:02 GMT
So there I was, streaking through the highest limits of Earth’s atmosphere, my arm holding an inexpressive but aggressive (naked) seventeen-year-old supergirl in a headlock that would have crushed a marble statue to powder but was barely enough to keep my prisoner in check.
Meanwhile, Ultragirl remained on the ground. She gestured briefly as I flew away that she was staying behind to “clean up”. That confused me a bit, to be honest. I mean, isn’t “cleaning up” what the ordinary people do? I’ve never cleaned up a mess for someone else in the past. If the planet and the stuff and people on it are too fragile to accommodate a perfect superpowered being like myself, that’s hardly my fault, so why should I clean it up?
I suspect that her remaining on the surface had more to do with the fact that she was jealous. That farm-girl was far from ugly, and she did have a spectacular body…
In fact, that spectacular body was squirming hard (superhumanly hard) against my own as I carried it into outer space. The blue of the sky faded and the stars became visible as my powers of flight carried us both, much faster than any man-made rocket, directly away from Earth. I confess I was more than a little distracted by the sensations created by the girl’s struggles to escape my grasp, but I held firm.
Out in the vacuum, I checked out my unwilling passenger. As well as the “checking” I did purely for my own, er, entertainment, I also checked her for signs that she was suffering from the lack of oxygen, the lack of air-pressure or the lack of warmth. Annoyingly, her face betrayed the same pouty lack of interest and emotional involvement as it had done down on the surface. No indication that she was even slightly uncomfortable out there.
Clearly, merely taking the young woman outside of the Earth’s atmosphere was not enough to kill her. “You’re quite the tough one aren’t you?” I commented.
I got nothing, not even a glance, in reply. “Haven’t you got anything to say before I finish you off?” I asked.
Apparently, she did not. Her thick lips didn’t even part. Getting my other arm around the farm-girl’s shoulders just above her terrific chest, I used that leverage and my long-established hold on her neck to try and pull her head from her body. How hard did I tug? Hard enough to uproot a forest, I’d guess. How successful was I? Put it this way, the girl didn’t even moan in complaint.
“Indestructible, eh?” I observed. The girl thrashed about wildly under my arms. She bucked her body with tremendous force and crashed her wonderful spherical backside into my belly. I wasn’t fully ready for the blow, and not in the slightest ready for the sheer force of it. It knocked me backwards, making me gasp in shock. That must have caused my grip to weaken, enough at least for the young woman to squirm out from my hold.
I’ve seen other people panic on many, many occasions. Usually, to be fair, I’m the cause of it. Of course, I’ve never ever panicked myself. The nearest I’ve probably ever come to “panic” was that moment when I realised that the girl had temporarily slipped away from me. The mere thought that Ultragirl might find out that I had not been in complete control of the situation from start to finish was too embarrassing to contemplate. I had to recapture that ice bitch.
Once I’d stopped my involuntary movement, I was all set to streak off after her at my maximum speed (however many thousands of miles per second that might be). I scanned around, expecting to have to use all my incredible visual powers to spot her. But, to my surprise, she was floating only a few dozen yards from me.
Was she preparing to attack me? Was that why she hadn’t fled when she had the chance?
That theory didn’t seem right. She wasn’t even looking at me. She was looking Earthwards. If she wanted to be back on Earth, why didn’t she just…. And that’s when it hit me.
She was stuck. With no flight-powers at all of her own, she was powerless to move in the vacuum of space! I hadn’t managed to kill her, but I had done a pretty good job of disabling her. All I had to do was make sure she ended up somewhere where she could not fall back under Earth’s gravity. I’d experienced enough of her to expect her to be able to survive a few weeks in space and a fall back through the atmosphere.
With my powers of flight it was easy to grab hold of her arm and spin her around me faster and faster until I didn’t think I could generate much more speed. I timed my release carefully. Really it was like a hammer-throw at the Olympics. But in space. And with a supergirl instead of a hammer…
My throw was good. And powerful. The girl shot away from me like a bullet, headed straight for the sun. With my amazing eyes, I even got to see her careening into the fiery soup, her beautiful body glowing white with pure heat as Earth’s star appeared to absorb her into itself.
I turned away from the sun in satisfied triumph, just in time to spot Ultragirl flying towards me.
“Was that her, shooting into the sun?” she asked me.
“Yeah.” I smiled. “Easy as pie.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you saw the mess down there..” Ultra nodded towards the Earth.
“Who cares?” I asked. I knew I didn’t. Ultra just rolled her eyes.
More next time!
Wednesday 22 February 2006 17:51 GMT
Hovering a couple of dozen miles out in space, with Ultragirl embracing me with all her newly-increased strength, her fantastic chest pressing intimately against my own, her sweet, rich lips tenderly locked over my mouth… Well, it was easy to forget about aliens and rampaging superhuman farm-girls and the like.
With our arms around each other, neither of us willing to break off our hold, we flew slowly back through the atmosphere, allowing the friction to heat our skins to red-hot. I loved the combination of the warmth of re-entry mixed with the warmth of Ultra’s passion and I’m sure she was enjoying it too.
As a couple we floated down, back towards my apartment. We glided in through the window without even separating our lips. Neither of us had taken in a breath of air for hours and neither of us cared.
“You really have been boosted!” I noticed as I landed with my back on the bed and her on top of me. She finally removed her hands from behind me and interlaced her fingers with mine, pinning my hands down. Before she took that hit from the alien beam, I’d have thrown her off me with no trouble at all. This time, I could feel that I’d need to struggle quite a bit more. I decided it wasn’t worth the effort and let Ultragirl have her superhuman way with me for a while.
“You know,” she said later, “you left me with quite a mess to clear up earlier.”
“You should have left it to all those weaklings.” I told her.
“You’re so harsh,” she chided. “I couldn’t do that. They needed help. I don’t think you realise… the shockwave when you um… collided with that girl-“ (I smiled, remembering the moment the young woman’s proud breasts had slammed against my magnificent, undefeatable chest) “- was devastating. People were hurt!”
“Oh well,” I said, making no effort to hide my lack of care, “I guess I’m just too much for most folks.”
“Sometimes I really don’t know what I see in you.” she said.
“I do.” I told her, floating up and towards her, bringing my naked, engorged nipples to within half an inch of her eyes.
“Wait!” Ultra said, unexpectedly. I was more than a little disappointed that my usual magic for once hadn’t worked. “Listen!”
I listened. There was a TV on in the next apartment. A news bulletin. They were describing the scene left behind after I’d taken the farm-girl out to space. I felt a surge of pride, knowing that much of the damage being talked about had been caused (indirectly) by me.
But then, the report ended and another correspondent began relaying details of a similar supergirl causing havoc in Frankfurt. The newsreader mentioned unconfirmed stories of other mystery women tossing traffic about in various other cities in North and South America, Asia and Africa.
“There’s dozens of them!” Ultragirl exclaimed. “We have to do something!”
I was going to ask her why, but I knew she was right. I’m the only supergirl who gets to go on a rampage on this planet. These upstarts needed to be taught a lesson.
“Right then,” I said. “I’ll start with the girl in Frankfurt and work my way East from there. You take care of the North American ones.”
She nodded in agreement. “Good luck!” she said, kissing me.
“Save the luck for yourself.” I told her. “I don’t need it.”
Together, we flew out of the window before streaking off in opposite directions.
Next time: the Frankfurt fight.
Thursday 23 February 2006 23:33 GMT
I've never seen so much broken glass. Sure I've smashed a fair few windows in my time (with my face, my hands, my feet, my chest, my breath..) but I'd never been involved in something on the scale of that before. I'll have to do it again sometime. Such fun!
Getting there was obviously no problem. The ninety-minute airplane flight took me five minutes. And locating the girl wasn't a challenge either. I just followed the flow of emergency vehicles. Another clue was the stream of panicking pedestrians running (if such tortuously slow movement can be called "running") in the opposite direction.
She was standing in the middle of a crossroads, surrounded by high-rise chrome and glass buildings. I could tell she'd been there for a while. The back end of a commuter bus, sticking out, at a forty-five degree angle, of the fifth floor of a bank's headquarters told its own story. As did a police van, lying on its roof like a stricken tortoise with its wheels still spinning.
The girl was wearing a loose T-shirt and what looked for all the world like pyjama bottoms. Perhaps, like the farm-girl, she had been zapped in her sleep. Her long curly dark blond hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a gorgeous face with green eyes which were as unemotive as the farm girl's. Her thick lips were set in the most impassive of impassive pouts, like a catwalk model's pose. I'll bet she was a great kisser.
Although her T-shirt was baggy, I didn't need X-ray vision to see the impressive swell of her bust beneath. The size and shape of her breasts was made all the more eye-catching when contrasted with the slimness of her waist which became apparent when she placed her hands on her hips, suddenly making her upper garment into a figure-hugging top.
I took a moment to admire both the girl's physique and the aliens' ability to recognise a great figure. I know I should have just dived down, snatched her up and taken her as fast as I could to the sun, but as there was no serious danger (to me, anyway) I thought I'd let her have a few more moments' fun. And then have a few more moments' fun for myself.
A dark green van came charging down the road towards her. Two uniformed men leant out of the side windows, holding rifles which they proceeded to fire at her. I saw holes being torn in her T-shirt, one in the centre of her belly, one over the upper portion of her right breast. I also saw bullets, squashed and bent over themselves, bouncing away from her. I did not see the girl grimace or twitch or blink or react in anyway to being shot by high-powered rifles.
There were no marks on her newly-exposed, perfect skin which was revealed beneath the bullet-holes. What ever else that ray did, it made its targets pretty tough. The van continued to accelerate right at her. The doors opened and the riflemen dived out, rolling over and over as they tried to absorb the vehicle's momentum. I wouldn't have wanted to be either of them; fragile men jumping out of a van moving at sixty miles an hour...
It was clearly a desperate ploy on behalf of the authorities who had simply run out of ideas. I can't say I blame them. I mean, what can dozens of big, "strong" (haha!) males and their big, "powerful" weapons do against a single teenage girl? Answer: in this particular case, absolutely nothing.
Anyway, the men bailed out having obviously first wedged a brick or something similar on the van's accelerator pedal. The vehicle gained speed rapidly as it bore down on the girl. She still had her hands on her hips, and I was fully expecting her to just let the van smash into her... (have I mentioned that it was fabulously curvy?) ...body. That's what I would have done. You know, watching the steel deform around the invulnerable contours of my flesh... Lovely.
Sadly, this girl had other ideas. At the last moment she removed her hands from her hips, punched both her fists at once through the engine of the onrushing behemoth and then (fairly spectacularly, I'll admit) she used that purchase and the superhuman strength of her long, slender arms to fling the entire van over her head.
Her arms came out of the motor and the vehicle soared away. It was still flying through the air as her hands returned efficiently to her hips. Two seconds later, the van smashed through the giant sixth-floor windows of an ultramodern office block raining glass down onto the street. Then it exploded in a brief ball of fire which destroyed dozens more windows and turned the rain of glass into a full-on downpour.
I flew through the supposedly lethal falling shards, ignoring the thousands of sharp fragments that bounced off me and landed right in front of the girl. She turned sharply to look at me, for a fraction of a second I thought I caught a look of surprise on her face but the familiar stony expression soon returned. She raised her hands, presumably to try and toss me aside, but I was quicker. A punch to her flat belly doubled her up and sent her, a foot above the ground, shooting away.
Her round rump smashed through the door of a bank's offices before it finally landed, leaving her sitting in the middle of an enormous marble reception area. She was getting back to her feet, crunching the glass fragments beneath her (not a scratch to be seen on her skin, just a few rips on her clothes) inside a second. Fortunately, it took me slightly less time to run at superspeed towards her, measuring my final strides to perfection so that I didn't need to adjust in anyway as I lifted my bare foot between her long legs and into the crotch of her pyjamas.
There was no crunch, which was pretty amazing. And, to be completely honest, it hurt the bridge of my foot. A little.
The other girl, meanwhile, didn't fare so well. She shot upwards like a rocket, her invulnerable skull creating a new narrow lift-shaft for the building. She must have slammed through quite a few desks and filing cabinets on her way up, because plenty of paper came drifting down through the new hole. As well as bits of wood and thin pieces of steel. In addition to the concrete and larger chunks of steel that had been the ceilings and floors. All thirty-six of them.
I flew up through the perfect channel she carved through the building, through the roof and towards the clouds, eventually catching up with the still-rising girl at around five thousand feet. I approached her from the front and grabbed her with both my arms. I just wanted to feel her superhuman chest pressing so wonderfully hard (but just beginning to yield) against my own. I locked my hands behind her back, partly to give her no chance of escape and partly to pull her tighter to me.
But I knew I had other such lovely but, ultimately, unwanted extraterrestrial-controlled young women to take care of. So, to prove I care about the fate of humanity, I hardly dallied at all (no more than half-an-hour) to grab her by her hips and rub those delicious breasts all over my perfect body. Then, without a nanosecond's thought, I flung her into the sun.
After that, I headed back towards the next little problem, which I'll tell you about next time, Bloggerfans!
Friday 24 February 2006 22:45 GMT
I'm not in the slightest bit competitive. In fact, I'm probably the least competitive person on Earth and I'll happily beat to a pulp anyone who says they are less competitive than me.
When I started to get a bit more efficient dealing with the alien-altered girls it had nothing (nothing at all) to do with any desire to collect up more of them in less time than Ultragirl could manage. It was simply because, after the glass-building-wrecker, I'd had my fill of fun.
Even though each girl I encountered seemed to look even more appetising than the last, I resisted the temptation to fool around with them. They all had such rich, inviting lips, such perfect faces, such tiny waists, such long, shapely arms and legs, such fantastic, large, firm breasts... But I resisted. I even resisted showing off my superior power by punching them through a block of buildings. And I did it to save you from extraterrestrial tyranny and, I stress again, not to prove my superiority over Ultragirl.
I started to gather them in pairs, swooping down on a girl as she terrorised one city and tucking her under my arm as I flew at amazing speed to another city in another country and snatched up a second supergirl with the other arm. Then I flew the pair to space, squeezing each one between my forearm and one of my breasts before hurling them both off like twin missiles aimed straight for the heart of the sun.
It was on one of those trips beyond the atmosphere to get rid of my latest cargo that I caught sight of Ultragirl carrying a single, beautiful, naked young woman. Now, I no reason to be jealous of any being. So it was not jealousy that made me follow her. Not in any way. Anyway, to my amazement, I saw Ultra dump the girl not on the surface of the sun but into Earth's orbit. Not only that, but I also saw that she'd dumped a dozen or so more nearby.
"What the hell are you doing? You can't leave them there!" I shouted. "Throw them at the sun!"
"They were normal girls until a few hours ago!" Ultra protested. "Maybe they can be changed back again. I can't just kill them!"
"You sentimental idiot!" I insulted her. "I thought you, of all people, would have recognised the need to protect your beloved normal people from the danger these girls represent... What if they fall back to Earth? You'll have to capture them all over again. Don't think that I'm going to help you!"
"I won't kill them deliberately." she pouted, folding her arms defiantly, causing her glorious breasts to almost spill out of her sexy costume.
"Whatever." I replied, suddenly not really interested in fighting with her. Besides, I can always go back when she's not around and have a bit of fun with her orbital stash.
Meantime, I dived down back through the atmosphere after the next shapely young female super troublemaker...
Monday 27 February 2006 17:02 GMT
So when I left off last time, Ultragirl and I were on a 2-girl mission to rid the earth of a small army of alien-enhanced gorgeous supergirls who were making nuisances of themselves in dozens of cities around the globe. Only I was actually making a proper effort to dispose of the unstoppable (as far as the Earth authorities were concerned) young women and Ultragirl was merely leaving them in planetary orbit because she thought it would be “wrong” to kill them.
I decided to deal with all the girls that Ultra was stashing in zero gravity later, and continue my work dealing with the ones still on the planet’s surface. I was getting quite efficient by that stage. They say “practice makes perfect”, but of course, I was perfect to begin with. So in my case practice was making even more perfect. I was returning to space, a supergirl tucked under each arm, approximately every quarter of an hour, to toss the latest duo into the sun.
Ultragirl, clearly significantly powered-up by her brush with the alien probe’s beam, was managing a steady one-every-twenty-minutes pace. We were on course to remove the last easy-on-the-eye superhuman troublemaker within a couple of hours.
“Sooner or later you’re going to have to face facts and deal with those.” I said, using a sweep of my hand to indicate all the young women floating helplessly above the Earth. I’d just met Ultragirl as she stashed her latest captive and I had flung my most recent two like ultra-fast rockets bound for Sun Central.
“Maybe your scientist friend can find a way to change them back,” Ultra said. To me, she seemed to be clutching at straws.
“I doubt it.” I told her. “He couldn’t even tell us anything about the beam that made them superhuman in the first place.”
“Well, maybe he’s had a breakthrough since then,” suggested Ultra.
“Even if he had, how’s he going to study these girls to find out how to reverse the process? He’d die instantly out here. And if we brought one of these girls down to him, she’d kill him with a finger before he could blink.” I pointed out.
“You’re wrong.” Ultra said, but her voice betrayed the fact that she wasn’t completely convinced. She changed the subject very slightly, focussing on the nub of the problem. “I won’t kill them in cold blood, Blogger.”
“If you don’t, I’ll have to do it.” I told her.
“Not yet!” she exclaimed. “Give them a chance!”
I laughed. “Getting attached to some of them, Blondie?” I asked. “Granted, there are a few that aren’t at all bad to look at, but they’re all a poor substitute for the real thing.” As I said the words “real thing” I used my hands to trace the marvellous contours of my own body, thrusting out various key parts of it to add visual weight to my speech. The little display had the desired effect on its audience. Ultragirl swallowed hard. I smiled.
“You’d better decide what to do with them soon.” I warned her. “We’ll be finished clearing them off the surface soon. If you don’t make your mind up by then, I promise I will deal with your little collection myself.
Tuesday 28 February 2006 16:50 GMT
“Almost done!” Ultragirl grinned, triumphantly, as we met once again just beyond the upper limits of the atmosphere.
She was releasing her latest capture, a stunning girl of South American origin with perfect skin, brown eyes, dark ripe lips and a body that would have graced any glamour magazine. (A body which, in its current state, could withstand a full-on collision with an express train. Although it was unlikely the train would fare so well…)
I’d just tossed two more supergirls, plucked from the chaos and destruction they were busy creating in South West Asia, to their destruction amongst the fury of the surface of the sun. I only had a couple more trips to make before my portion of the globe was alien-controlled-superhuman-girl-free.
“It’s nearly time for you to tell me what’s going to happen to all your girlfriends.” I reminded Ultragirl. Her collection of them was quite impressive as it floated in space, stretching around the curve of the Earth. It was like an adolescent boy’s fantasy: hundreds of beautiful, sexy girls of every conceivable ethnicity, each one with a stunning face and all of them, without fail, boasting superb figures. Long, slender limbs, tiny flat waists, curvy hips and fabulous chests abounded.
I had to remind myself that these lovely-looking young women possessed more than sufficient power to subjugate the entire planet. Not that any of them had proved more than the most temporary of distractions for me. Even Ultragirl (admittedly quite a bit powered-up of late) had dealt with her opponents easily enough. But compared to the “ordinary” citizens of Earth, every single individual in that sexy crowd was a goddess.
There was no way, no way at all, that I could let Ultra just keep her captives floating around in orbit. The time was coming when I would have to force her into either killing them herself or letting me do it. I was pretty sure I could find some way to make the task fun. I was about to tell her of my resolve when she broke the silence before I could:
“Look! Over there!” she shouted, pointing.
I followed the direction indicated by her extended index finger. Immediately I saw the reason for her excitement. “Oh, shit!” I cursed.
It was another probe, identical in appearance to the one we had followed to the farmhouse. That first craft had fired a ray that boosted Ultragirl’s power levels and created the first new supergirl we encountered.
“They’re trying to make more of them to replace the ones we’ve neutralised!” Ultragirl cried.
“You don’t say, Sherlock.” I muttered. I didn’t need my superhuman speed of thought, intellect or memory to work that out.
“What should we do?” asked Ultra.
“Well, I don’t fancy spending the rest of my life chasing these probes and ferrying the girls they zap into space.” I confessed. “So, unless that career path appeals to you, I guess there’s only one thing we can do.”
“What’s that?” she enquired. I suspect she already knew the answer. I told her anyway: