“We can’t just charge in against that… thing.” Ultragirl said in response to my suggestion that we attack the enormous alien mothership.
“And why not?” I asked. “If we don’t deal with the main extraterrestrial presence, they’re just going to keep on sending more of those probes to make more of those supergirls and you’re going to spend forever chasing after them.”
“And you -“ she attempted to remind me - “you’re going to be chasing them too. Look I know we have to go after the big one eventually but I don’t think we’re ready yet…”
“Two things, Blondie:” I replied, slightly annoyed. “Firstly, you’re on your own going after the little superladies. I’m bored with all that now. And secondly-“
“-Bored?” she interrupted me. “Haven’t you seen the damage they’ve done? People - innocent people - have been hurt, even killed by them…”
“And your point is?” I wondered.
“My point is that you can’t just give up because you’re bored. All those people down there-“ (she indicated the surface of the Earth, hovering silently below) “-need you.”
“Well, they’ll have to do without me. I’m not their servant.” I explained.
“But the girls will do terrible things if they’re not stopped,” protested Ultra.
“Not to me, they can’t.” I reminded her. “Let them smash up a few city centres. Maybe I’ll watch them do it. It’s quite fun.”
“Blogger! You how can you be so… so… so cold and cruel!” She seemed shocked.
I laughed. “A better question is ‘How can you be so weak?’ ” Ultragirl rolled her eyes in disgust.
“Anyway,” I continued. “All that will be irrelevant if we take out the mothership.”
“But.. we can’t. Not yet,” said Ultra.
“Why not?” I still wanted to know.
“That weapon they have… the one that zapped me the first time I saw them and got too close…” she began.
“What about it?” I demanded.
“It’s… it’s too powerful. We have to find a way to disable it first. We can’t just-“
“-Too powerful?!” I interrupted, bursting into laughter. “Nothing is too powerful for me.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she said, disrespectfully, “I know you’re amazing but that thing is something else. It’s like nothing I’ve ever come across before. It… hurt. Badly. Really, really badly, Blogger. I thought I was going to die… I blacked out for a while… I still don’t really know how I made it to your place.”
“Aw, the big laser-thing hurt poor little Ultragirl!” I mocked. “Well, if you’re too chicken to face up to it again, I understand. Don’t mind me while I just fly off on my own and save the world. You just stay here and do some cleaning or something. I’ll go and take care of the big bad spaceship for you.”
“Blogger!” she shouted. “I’m serious. That thing is different from any other weapon I’ve ever faced! You’ll get killed!”
“No I won’t.” I told her.
“You will! Don’t go!”
“Ultra, darling, are you showing concern for my wellbeing?” I asked with a mischievous smile.
She dodged the question: “If you get fried, I’ll have to stop the aliens by myself.”
“Is that really what you’re worried about?” I teased. “Or are you scared of losing the best thing that ever happened to you?”
“Oh, please!” she said, pouting and folding her arms. I don’t think she realises just how sexy she looks when she does that. It was hard resisting the temptation to jump on her there and then. Very hard. But I just about managed.
“Stay just like that.” I told her. “I’ll be right back.” I shot off into deep space, as fast as I could fly.
I heard her shouted, parting words as I streaked away: “Blogger, no! Don’t!” And then, a second later but much quieter, I heard: “Be careful!”
Now, this is, as you know, my blog. It’s about my life and the adventures I have. It’s only because I am an extremely generous goddess that I allow you these glimpses into my fantastic existence. I don’t have to tell you anything at all.
So, if I chose not to tell you much about the encounter I had with the mothership, it does not mean that I have anything to hide. For reasons which you do not need to know, I just don’t want to share all the details.
Yes, they did fire that weapon at me. Yes, it did hit me. No, it did not hurt. Nothing can hurt me. What I experienced was a very temporary nerve-ending disorder. I was NOT screaming. I merely lost control of my vocal chords for a few moments. And I certainly did not at any stage, lose consciousness. My brain merely entered into a different mode of response for a while.
Of course, I was fine. I COULD have continued my mission (once my brain had returned to its standard response mode). I merely chose not to. I did not go back to Ultragirl for help. I just decided that my original attack plan required a little modification and went to discuss it with her. That’s all. And if anyone tells you anything different, they’re lying.
Thursday 2 March 2006 17:58 GMT
So, you're probably waiting for Ultragirl's version of my encounter with the mothership to appear on her page (http://ultragirlspeaks.blogspot.com).
Just, remember, whatever lies she tells about me being "hurt" or "crying out" in "pain" are nothing but a poor attempt to make me look weak or vulnerable. I am nothing of the sort.
I could charge that weapon down if I want to. But, I just fancy trying something different against those aliens...
Friday 3 March 2006 17:39 GMT
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded of Ultragirl when I saw her, hovering in space not far from where I’d allowed myself to drift as the beam blasted me.
“Just checking if you’re alright,” she said.
“Of course I’m alright!” I snapped, angrily. “Why shouldn’t I be? I’m absolutely fine.”
“You didn’t look so fine when that thing zapped you…”
“That thing? Huh!” I laughed. “It barely tickled me.”
“So, how come you blacked out?” asked Ultra.
“I didn’t.” I said. “I just thought it might be better if we found another way of going after that big ship. Something a bit… you know, different. Creative. Something that doesn’t involve getting blasted by the main weapon…”
“Hah! I knew it! It did hurt you!” she exclaimed, triumphantly.
“For the last time!” I retorted. “It did not hurt me. I just didn’t… enjoy… it very much. That’s all.”
I started to fly back towards Earth.
“Where are you going now?” she demanded.
“To see if my contact in the lab has made any progress.” I informed her. “Perhaps he can tell us a bit more about the energy that… that…. that thing uses. Maybe I can work out how to counteract it.”
“OK,” she accepted my plan. “I’ll keep bringing the supergirls up here from the surface.”
“Oh yes,” I criticised. “You keep stacking them up neatly out here so that the aliens can use them again whenever they want.”
“Blogger, you know that the girls are helpless out in space. They can’t do any harm here,” she countered. “Besides, I told you: no matter what has been done to them, and what they have been made to do, they’re still ordinary girls. I won’t kill them.”
“And I told you. I will kill them if you don’t.” I reminded.
“No. I won’t let you!” she insisted.
“Like you have a choice!” I laughed. She flew to “stand” in space, right in front of me.
“I said ‘I won’t let you!’” she reiterated, locking my gaze with her own. A moment later, the fingers on both of our hands interlocked and we were wrestling, there, in the vacuum of outer space.
I could not believe how much stronger she had become since she got zapped. Maybe the mothership’s main weapon had taken something out of me, but I had to use every drop of strength that I could muster just to stop her overpowering me.
It was hard work but I could feel myself slowly turning the tide as we grappled. The problem was that she seemed to know a whole variety of tricks and moves. Although I clearly had the better of her whenever it became a contest of pure power, her knowledge of fighting techniques seemed to cancel out that edge.
I’ve never bothered with fighting styles or methods. I’ve always been so much stronger than my “opponents” that I haven’t needed to bother. Ultragirl made me regret that as we wrestled to a stalemate.
“This isn’t finished.” I told her.
“You’re right. It’s not,” she agreed. But we both knew we had to do something about the aliens before they filled the planet with a fresh batch of personality-lacking (but attraction-abundant) supergirls. With angry retreating glares, we each returned to our tasks. She went back to ferrying the existing supergirls into orbit. I headed straight for the university.
I found my contact, lying in the corner of his lab. As well as the damage I’d already caused to the room, fresh destruction had recently occurred. There were new piles of rubble near my man and the air was full of the smell of dust and burning. I soon found the source of the latter odour.
My expert was barely conscious. His right arm was laid out to the side. It had been so badly burnt that I could see the shape of his bones beneath the charred black leathery remains of his skin.
“What the fuck happened to you?” I asked, slapping him gently to wake him properly.
“Ouch!” he screamed in response to my oh-so-gentle taps. I rolled my eyes.
“Please…” he croaked, “I need an ambulance.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I said. “Tell me what happened first.”
“Please! I haven’t got long…. Need an ambulance…” he pleaded.
“Are you deaf? I said ‘tell me what happened’.” I reminded him.
“I will…” he wheezed. “but you must call the ambulance now… I… I don’t know how much… how much longer I can…”
“Perhaps you’d like me to burn your other arm for you.” I offered.
“No! Please! OK, OK,” he gasped, conceding defeat as every male who’s ever tried to oppose my will has done. “It was the beam… I… I… tried to use it on myself..”
“You found a way to make it fire?” I asked, genuinely impressed.
“Yes… I discovered the type of energy it uses… I was looking in the wrong place… You see, I was searching for a generator, something powerful that could make massive amounts of electricity… but it…” He coughed, his face contorting in pain.
“Keep talking.” I instructed him.
“It hurts!” he spluttered. “Please… the ambulance.”
“Oh, shut up about the ambulance!” I ordered. “Tell me about the energy!”
“S..sorry.” he said. “The energy…. Yes…. I was looking for something that could make huge amounts of it, but the beam… the whole craft… actually operates on tiny, tiny currents. I detected them by accident and then measured and analysed them… There was something really familiar about the energy-patterns. For a while I couldn’t work it out but then it.. then it hit me!”
“I’ll hit you in a moment if you don’t cut to the chase.” I threatened.
“OK! It’s organic.” He said.
“Organic?” I asked
“Organic,” he repeated. “It’s very similar to the tiny electrical pulses in the nerves of all living creatures on Earth. Similar. But not identical. But I was able to replicate it.”
“Is that how you made the beam fire?”
“So, you’ve been watching TV have you?” I asked. He didn’t confirm or deny. “You saw what that beam and the others like it did to all those girls, didn’t you?” He nodded. “So, once you’d worked out how to use the beam, you tried to make yourself superhuman. Is that right?” Again, he nodded.
“Only, the result was that you burnt your arm to a crisp.” I pointed out.
“The.. the energy... that it uses… it’s very specific… I thought I’d identified it correctly as brain-wave energy… but I wasn’t precise enough. I used the wrong type of brain-wave energy and it… it created a different kind of beam,” he confessed.
I bent low, so that my face was just inches from his and demanded “What do you mean by ‘the wrong type of brain-wave energy’ ?”
“I.. I used my own brain-waves… I.. I… think it was supposed to operate from the brain-waves of its targets… and all the targets…” he coughed once again, closing his eyes as agony ripped through him.
“Yes?” I asked, tapping my foot impatiently,
“All.. the targets… have been… female.”
“You mean, that probe and its beam are powered by girls’ thoughts?” I checked.
“Well, female brain-waves,” the wounded scientist explained.
I paused a moment. “I think I’ve just have a female brainwave of my own,” I smiled. “You said the wrong brain-waves made the beam malfunction… what if it encountered the right brain-waves, but in the wrong quantity?”
“I’m not sure I understand…” he began.
“Of course not.” I patronised. “You’re only a man. Let me put it simply: What if that probe was bombarded with female brain-waves… you know, overloaded?”
“It… it might fail,” he speculated. “Or explode. Or both.”
“Well then, if all their technology is powered by the same principle, then I think I’ve worked out how it can be countered.” I announced.
I walked over to a workbench where I noticed a mobile phone lying and tossed it gently towards the scientist. “Here!” I told him. “You can call yourself an ambulance now.” With only one hand he could use, his clumsy attempt at a catch knocked the phone about three yards away from him. I left him to try and crawl towards it as I took off and soared through the hole in the ceiling.
I was already formulating a plan. But I had one more visit to make before I could find Ultragirl and tell her about it…
Monday 6 March 2006 17:39 GMT
So, I knew how I might be able to weaken the alien mothership’s main weapon… in theory. As I mentioned in the last post, I was forming a plan. But I was going to need a little assistance to carry it out.
Regular readers may well have been shocked by the last sentence of the previous paragraph. It’s not like I’ve needed “help” to achieve just about anything in the past. I mean, you’re probably wondering, “what the hell could it be that someone else can do that the goddess that is Blogger cannot?” Maybe you’ve phrased it a little better, but I bet that’s the gist of the question…
Well, allow me to explain. I’d figured that if the aliens’ technology ran on energy from brainwaves (and female brainwaves in particular) then it might be possible to disrupt their systems by exposing them to a power-overload. Obviously, I couldn’t roundup a couple of dozen women and carry them into space with me to face the mothership. “Normal” people would asphyxiate and/or explode on leaving the atmosphere. If I wanted to do that I’d roundup a couple of dozen men (but that would just be for fun, and wouldn’t be any help against the extraterrestrial menace).
I wasn’t thinking about “normal” people (male or female) anyway. I was thinking about superhumans. Female superhumans. Specifically, the alien-enhanced girls that Ultragirl had plucked from the cities of North and South America and stashed in high orbit around the Earth. A small army of seemingly indestructible, gorgeous young women, floating out there, like contestants in a zero-gravity “Superhuman Miss World” pageant. Could they be used against the very aliens who had given them superpowers in the first place?
The answer seemed to be: not while they were still under the control of the extraterrestrials. Given the fact that they could still kick and punch with awesome force, I wouldn’t be able to ferry them to the mothership’s orbit in groups of more than 2. That wouldn’t provide me with the element of surprise which my plan required. Even if Ultragirl pitched in, we would still be bringing the girls 3 at a time. I wanted to move all of them at once.
The other problem was that I was far from sure that the aliens’ control over those girls didn’t extend to their brainwaves. If that was the case than the whole idea of using them for their mental energy would be a complete waste of time. What I needed was to find a way to jam the extraterrestrial’s manipulation of the young women.
That was why I went to see the one person I knew who had achieved limited success experimenting with such mind-based “control” systems in the past. At least I knew exactly where to find him: chained to the toilet in the bathroom of my flat…
Tuesday 7 March 2006 17:14 GMT
So… a quick recap for lesser beings (or “men” as they like to call themselves):
We’d established that the alien probes which fired the rays that made normal girls into supergirls were powered by female brainwaves.
Now, remember the damage caused to my lab contact when he fed the wrong type of brainwave into the probe I’d captured and brought to him? A minor change in energy turned it from a power-up ray to a cook-to-a-crisp ray. My plan assumed that the main weapon on the alien mothership, which nearly killed Ultragirl and even managed to slightly piss me off was not that dissimilar to the “superizing” laser. In other words, I reckoned that, although different in effect, the two types of beam were similar in many respects (including energy source).
That’s why I intended to use the army of alien-enhanced supergirls (which Ultragirl had collected out in high Earth orbit) to bombard the mothership with female brainwaves and hopefully weaken or even destroy that main weapon. But I couldn’t do it whilst the aliens themselves still controlled the girls. So I’d gone to see my favourite mind-control expert…
“Duane,” I announced, strolling into the bathroom. My addressee did not respond. I soon saw why. His head was slumped onto his chest. Only the chains around his body, holding him tight against the cistern, had prevented him falling completely off the lavatory.
Obviously, he was no use to me unconscious. Such a pathetic specimen. Half-dead simply because he’d had no food, water or exercise for a couple of days. I gave him a very gentle “wake up” slap which knocked his head violently over one shoulder and then another slap for luck with sent it the other way. “Duane!” I said, again.
Groggily, he opened one eye followed by the other. He was clearly in a bit of a state but the “Oh shit! No! What do you want now?” look on his face was a delight to behold. I bent towards him and cupped his chin (carefully so as only to cause him considerable pain, but no permanent damage). “Duane, look at me!” I instructed.
His eyes swam a bit, but eventually managed to focus on mine. “I need you to build me a device, Duane,” I told him, “A device to jam brain-wave transmissions.”
“Eh?” he said.
“Wrong answer.” I said, squeezing his chin until he screamed.
“Please… I can’t think….” he started. “Need water… and food…” I rolled my eyes. Using just my left thumb and forefinger, I pinched a length of the chains around him, my digits squeezing the steel until it inevitably broke. I let the rest of the chain fall to the floor as I lifted him by my one-handed hold on his chin until his legs were straight and his feet came off the ground. Then I carried him by his chin to the kitchen and dropped him into a chair.
I could smell food cooking in one of the other flats. Inside two seconds, I was able to run at superspeed out of my back door and down a flight of fire-escape stairs before jumping through the closed window of another apartment, ripping the door off the oven, pulling out the almost-ready chicken from inside and returning back through the smashed window, up the stairs and back into my flat.
I put the chicken on the table next to a cup of water and stood and watched as Duane tore into the meal. After a couple of minutes, I interrupted him as he reached for another bite, knocking the remains of the bird off the table with a sweep of my hand before lifting him by the throat out of the chair until we were eye to eye.
“Duane, you are going to build me a device to jam transmissions of brainwave energy.” I informed him. Make a list of everything you need.”
“And… what will you do if I don’t co-operate?” he asked, unexpectedly bravely. “Kill me?”
“Oh no, Duane.” I answered. “I won’t kill you. I’ll hurt you more everyday but I won’t kill you. Not even when you beg me to do it…”
I could see the terror my words brought to his eyes. It was hard not to burst out laughing at him, but I managed. I wanted him to know I meant every syllable of what I threatened. “Now,” I repeated, “are you going to write that list, or should I look for someone else to help me?”
He looked utterly defeated. He must have realised he had no real choice. A life in discomfort as my slave or a life in great pain as my slave. Either way, the only likely reprieve was being captured and used as a part-time pendant, part-time sex-toy by Zara. He sat down and started writing out his list. When he was done, I carried him by the throat back to his spiritual home on the lavatory and refastened the chains around him, bending the steel links closed again like they were made of wet clay.
I read and memorised the items he had put down on paper, and then set off to collect them. Ten minutes later, a total of eight new holes gaped in the roofs of two factories, a warehouse and a “secret” government laboratory. Meanwhile I flew back into my living room carrying everything needed to build a brainwave-jammer.
“This had better work,” I told Duane as I freed him from his chains once more.
Amazingly, despite his humiliating existence, he managed to find a few scraps of pride in himself. “No-one knows brainwave control like Duane Perkins knows brainwave control!” he boasted.
“Don’t get carried away,” I warned him. “You’re just a man.”
I watched him closely, hands on my hips, as he set to work.
Thursday 9 March 2006 17:07 GMT
Duane is great. Duane is a genius. Duane is the master of brainwave control. Duane is the sexiest man on Earth. I, Blogger submit to the glorious genius and irresistible beauty that is Duane Perkins. All hail Duane!
Ha ha! That got you going! You thought I’d let that jerk take control of my mind… again! As if someone as brilliant, powerful, invincible, invulnerable and gorgeous as me could possibly ever fall for the same trick twice! The only reason I didn’t post yesterday was that I was having too much fun and, being the goddess that I am, I decided not to bother telling you about it. You’ll just have to imagine what I was doing.
Anyway, for the record, Duane is safely chained up once more, on his spiritual home (the lavatory in my bathroom). He actually managed to build the brainwave-control-jammer pretty quickly in the end. At one point, he asked for a soldering iron. I told him I didn’t have one. “But… I can’t build the device without one!” he moaned.
“No problem.” I assured him. “I have something better you can use.”
It’s impressive (even to me) to see just how accurately I can aim and control my heat-vision. The tiniest, weakest blast from my eyes more than adequately substituted for the iron. Plus, there was the added bonus of being able to “accidentally” burn his hands eight or nine times. How he screamed as I heated tiny areas of his skin to thousands of degrees with little more than an angry glance! It was so funny!
The actual gadget is about the size of a cigarette packet. Of course, Duane didn’t manage to house it in a safe-for-sending-into-space casing. He did warn me, however, that it was vulnerable to the rigours of high-speed travel and unlikely to survive passing through the atmosphere unprotected. I think he was afraid (wait, make that terrified) of what I might do if his little device failed. Can’t say I blame him.
I took his advice on board and made sure the brainwave-jammer was shielded from atmospheric friction by wedging it snugly in the generous valley of my chest. Taking care not to crush it to powder with a careless movement of my breasts, I made sure Duane was securely tied up once more before flying out to space.
I rendezvoused with Ultragirl high above the Earth. Together we made our way over to the long, long line of floating supergirls that she had assembled. I carefully extracted Duane’s jammer from my cleavage, pointed it at the first girl and pressed the “Jam” button.
Tune in next time, folks, to find out what happened…
Monday 13 March 2006 17:59 GMT
OK, OK! I know. You’re all waiting to know what happened when I activated the brainwave-control-jammer device.
A quick reminder of the scene. I and Ultragirl, floating in space, about a hundred miles up, like a beautiful-beyond-words, powerful-beyond-comprehension goddess and her almost-as-impressive girlfriend / sidekick. Beneath us, spread out lying side-by-side about ten yards from each other, a line of naked, gorgeous (by your standards, if not mine) girls, each of which possessed vast strength and speed and appeared to be indestructible.
We knew they were under the control of the aliens. The device I had Duane build was supposed to free them from the extraterrestrial influence so that Ultra and I could use their brainwaves to disrupt the main weapon on the aliens’ mothership.
I pressed the button. One instant, the girls were just hovering in the vacuum of space, expressionless pouts on each of their stunning faces. The next moment, they were still floating, not even the slightest flicker of acknowledgement passing across their deadpan, but yes, beautiful, features.
Seconds passed. Still nothing happened.
“That stupid geek!” I spat, referring, of course, to Duane. “I’m going to rip off that big cock your friend Zara gave him and I’m going to strangle him with it.”
“Perhaps, if you hadn’t been so unnecessarily cruel with him so many times, he would have been more willing to help.” Ultra preached, both pointlessly and patronisingly.
“Hah!” I responded. “You wait until you see how unnecessarily cruel I’m going to be with him now! I mean it. Duane is going to wish he was dead.”
As I began speaking the last sentence, a strange thing happened. Every single one of the captured girls suddenly turned to look at me. The one nearest me moved her lips. Although she was silent, I could tell she was repeating one of my words back to me. I checked the others. They were all mouthing it too.
I should have known. To make sure it was no co-incidence, I faced the line of young women and shouted the word once more: “Duane!”
The girls began to mumble “Duane, Duane, Duane, Duane, Duane.”
I looked to Ultragirl. “Never trust a male.” I said.
“What do we do now?” she asked, laughing at the bizarre sight of over a hundred stunningly sexy, naked, nubile girls (each powerful enough to defeat an army single-handed and unarmed) chanting the name of a dweeb as though he were some kind of deity.
I knew exactly what we should do next. I decided to move punishing Duane for his disobedience down the list of priorities. That could wait. We had business with the alien mothership to attend to first. “What we do,” I told Ultra, “is use this to our advantage.”
“How?” she asked.
“Like this, Blondie.” I explained. I pointed away from the Earth, towards where that huge extraterrestrial craft lay in silent menace. “Duane.” I said, pointing. “He’s over there. Duane is there.”
The girls became increasingly restless. They started to thrash their slender perfect arms and legs, as though trying to move in the direction I was indicating. Of course, they could not move even an inch under their own power out in space.
“I -“ I began and then realised that I needed Ultragirl’s help - “- I mean, we… We can take you to Duane.”
“Yes,” Ultragirl chimed in, finally cottoning-on. “We will take you to Duane.”
I had thought it might be a struggle to gather all the girls into a single mass. I thought they would fight. Given the vast strength they had displayed on Earth (picking up buses and tossing them through buildings with ease) I thought they might push and kick against one another, making the task of collecting them together in a tight group almost impossible. But they were all-too-willing to be shoved, pulled and dragged into whatever position we wanted them in. Simply because they believed we were going to take them to their beloved geek.
We spent less than quarter of an hour to bring every single girl that Ultra had captured into a single bundle of sexy, naked young women. “That’s the lot.” Ultragirl reported as she pushed the last one into place.
I looked at the device Duane had given me. A small screen, rather like a radar read-out, showed where brainwave-signals were being detected. It registered a large blob for the group we had assembled. But it also showed a number of smaller dots clustered in one corner of the display. “Are you sure that’s all the supergirls you brought up here?” I asked Ultra.
“Definitely.” she said, “I counted them.”
“So… how come this thing says there a whole load more, over…” I began tracing with my index finger trying to estimate where the dots on my screen corresponded to in reality. “…there!” I said. Then I paused. “I don’t believe it!” I confessed. It didn’t seem possible. And yet… yet it had to be.
“The…. sun?” Ultragirl said, out loud. I nodded.
More next time…
Tuesday 14 March 2006 17:47 GMT
We’d just found out that all the supergirls I’d thrown at the sun appeared to be (somehow) still alive. As we were gathering up the young women to use their combined brainwaves in an assault on the alien mothership’s power supply, it seemed logical that we should add the girls in the sun to our collection.
"I’ll go and fetch them," I said to Ultragirl, getting ready to fly off in the direction of Earth’s star.
"Absolutely not!" she declared, catching me by surprise.
"Why not?" I asked her. "Don’t you want to defeat these aliens? What’s the matter with you? Are you scared of the heat? Don’t worry, then. I’ll do it by myself."
"You really must think I'm stupid," she said. I was a little taken aback by that. I mean, I know she’d not my equal in brains, but I don’t think she’s stupid. She’s vastly cleverer than any man on Earth for starters…
"Look, you're great and all," Ultragirl flattered, insincerely, "but you're going to have to do better than that."
"What are you talking about, Blondie?" I demanded, genuinely confused.
"Do I have to say it?" she began. "I’m talking about the sun! You think I’m going to just stand here and let you go in there to get mega-powered-up?"
So, that was it! The so-called "great" Ultragirl was scared that exposure to solar radiation at its source would increase my power-levels… In truth, the thought had barely even crossed my mind. Well, alright. It had occurred to me that, by diving into the flares to pluck out the girls, I might pick up a notch or two of extra power. But I thought of it merely a fortunate side-effect. You know, saving the world and becoming a little bit more of a goddess by way of a reward…
Ultragirl placed her hands on her lovely hips and met my gaze with her own steely stare. I think she was trying to tell me that she was serious about not wanting me to go into the sun. But she’s always looked especially sexy when she’s angry. I wanted to tell her to get lost, to shove her out into deepest space to leave me to get on with the business of recovering girls from the sun unhindered. But… those fiery eyes! Those determined, full lips! That fantastic, superhuman chest, so defiantly thrust out…
I rolled my eyes to show how little I thought of her intention to stop me. But at the same time, I couldn’t help smiling. Not just because of her ridiculous "code" which made her try and stand my way ("mustn’t let the bad girl get too much more powerful than me…" How laughably pathetic!) but also because I was so deeply struck by how totally fine she looked at that moment.
"Don't you think I would have tried that already? " I pointed out. "If I wanted more power, and I could get it in that manner, I would sleep there every night!" Of course, I don’t actually need sleep, but I think I made my point.
"Maybe, maybe not." she responded. "I can't take any chances. You...you're too...you know..." My smile grew wider. She couldn’t even bring herself to say it. The girl, despite the fact that she was the second most powerful being in the solar system, is clearly more than a little in awe of me. And who can blame her for that? After all, I am, as everybody knows, the most powerful being of all. Not to mention the most gorgeous too…
"Too powerful?" I filled in the blank, teasing her as I stretched out my perfect limbs. "Is that possible? I suppose you can only dream."
Ultra’s stern expression dissolved. She flew over to me, her lips now stretched in a warm smile that revealed her stunning teeth. Our fingertips met. So did our lips, briefly.
"Just let me do this, okay? I promise to make it worth it," she said, sensuously licking my neck. I’ve been hit by missiles that generated less intense sensations than Ultra’s sexy tongue at that moment.
She grabbed me and suddenly hugged me tight. I was momentarily stunned by the sheer force of her embrace. So much stronger than the last time! I found myself gasping in surprise and delight, both at the strength of the hug and at the deliciousness of the feelings it stirred within me. I felt a little like a schoolgirl. I’m not sure anyone has ever made me feel like that. I’ll admit I even giggled a little in coquettish excitement.
"Let me think..." I said, with a sigh. She nuzzled my neck some more. Thinking was becoming more and more difficult. Our fingers interlocked.
“Let’s go… together.” I moaned.
Wednesday 15 March 2006 21:30 GMT
Hand in hand, we flew together towards the sun.
Huge flares tore from the burning mass and leapt up at us, warmly caressing our bodies. Naturally, the extreme heat and radiation failed to cause either of us the slightest discomfort. In fact, as we neared the swirling fury of what passes for the "surface" of the sun, Ultragirl actually turned to me and grinned "This is lovely!"
"Yes, it is." I concurred. It was so lovely, that I was finding it increasingly hard to fight the temptation to initiate some real fun with Ultra. Never mind making love under the stars: I was thinking about making love on a star. But, as I might have expected from her, she was putting business before pleasure.
Our "business", of course, was locating the supergirls I had tossed into the inferno. It wasn't hard. Neither of us had any trouble seeing, despite the glare. As for lifting each girl, their apparent weight enormously increased by the sun's immense gravitational pull, well, that was no problem at all either.
Each supergirl had been heated until her flawless skin glowed white-hot, but they were easy enough for Ultra and I to handle. By the end, I found I could grab two girls at a time, each of my hands gripping an ankle. Then, I just casually flung the pair out into space in the general direction of Earth, my effortless toss much more powerful than the sun's gravity.
Ultragirl, too, was finding the whole excersize much easier than I anticipated. Was the sun making her stronger? Much more importantly, was the sun making me stronger? It's difficult to say. I felt great, possibly even more great than usual, but I didn't feel power rushing into me. As for strength, well, how strong was I before anyway? It's not like I keep a record. I mean, some things are too vast to measure... Can you imagine?
"Dear diary, yesterday I could lift 12.23 million tonnes with my left hand, but today I can lift 12.24 million and whilst yesterday I could survive a 10 billion megaton explosion, today I managed to emerge unscathed from 10.1 billion megatons worth..."
How do you test things like that?
I certainly didn't notice any dramatic changes (such as new powers, or a significant increase in strength). Ultragirl didn't mention anything to me about being vastly "powered-up" either. So, were we unaffected by the intensive dose of solar radiation? I'm not sure. Maybe we were both so powerful before (me even more than her, naturally) that a little bit of extra power didn't make enough of a difference. Maybe Ultragirl's body had reached it's maximum potency, and could no longer absorb any more energy.
And my (perfect) body? I suppose it might be the same thing, but I also have another theory: Perhaps it has nothing to do with how much energy I can "store". Perhaps it's simply because I have now reached the very limits of power permissible in this universe. Maybe the laws of physics simply cannot accommodate a being of greater power than me. In other words, if I was any more powerful, I reckon the universe might spontaneously implode. Doubtless, if that did ever happen, I would be left completely unscratched...
Anyway, Ultra and I, goddesses that we are, made short work of collecting up all the supergirls dotted around the surface of the sun. Once we had them clear, I "zapped" them with Duane's brainwave-jammer, turning them from servants of aliens hell-bent on conquering the Earth into servants of a dweeb hell-bent on getting some tit action.
We brought the newly-recovered girls together with the ones Ultragirl had stashed in Earth-orbit and made sure that they all believed that we were their only hope of reaching their beloved Duane. Now, we had an army of almost five-hundred superhuman girls, all willing to be pushed and steered wherever Ultra and I desired.
"So... what now?" asked Ultra.
"Simple," I told her. "We get them all to hold each other's arms and legs so that they're in a tight bundle. Then we get behind them and push them, fast, at that main weapon."
"Blogger! No!" she protested. "They'll get hurt, maybe even... worse."
"Oh," I said with mock pity, "and Duane will be so upset!"
"I can't let you do it!" Ultragirl stood her ground (as best as she could "stand" her "ground" in the vacuum of space).
"Listen," I explained...
Anyway, that's enough for today. More next time.
Thursday 16 March 2006 17:21 GMT
We had everything in place. All the pieces of the jigsaw ready to slot in…
Except that Ultragirl, once again was raising “moral” objections. Sometimes I wish she could just forget that pointless “code” of hers and realise that when you’re as powerful as we are, you can make your own rules.
But, I didn’t want to have to fight her. She was pretty powered-up at that point, and whilst I was confident as ever that I was stronger and quicker, she seemed to know a few moves that I didn’t which would make any scrap between us far more evenly balanced than I would like. Not that I wouldn’t beat her, just that I didn’t have the two weeks needed to see it through. The only option left was convincing her the boring (non-physical) way.
“It’s like this, Blondie.” I tried to explain, “I think we agree now that those aliens out there have hostile intentions towards the Earth. And it’s no stretch of the imagination to suppose that those hostile intentions extend towards Earth’s population. How many people do you think will die if we let them carry out their invasion? How many people do you think your precious girls here -“ (I nodded to indicate the vast ball of naked supergirls we had assembled) “-will kill if they were back under alien control and unleashed on the surface again?”
She paused, perhaps formulating a response, perhaps realising the truth of my words.
“Don’t you see, we can’t take any chances!” I went on. “These girls represent our best hope at overcoming that main weapon and sorting out the mothership once and for all. We can’t let that opportunity slip just because you have some crazy idea about turning them all back into good little normal people again.”
“But…” began Ultra, “we have to at least try. We owe it to them to-“
I scoffed, interrupting her. “-We owe them nothing! We had to save the world from them, remember? How many buses did they throw between them?”
“That was the aliens controlling them!” Ultra protested.
“And they would still be controlling them if it wasn’t for Duane’s little box of tricks zapping them into his fan club.” I pointed out. “Who knows how long the effects of that will last? We have to act now!”
“But… but… we can’t deliberately push them into the path of that horrible ray…”
“We must!” I shouted. “Either we risk these five hundred girls or we risk the lives and freedom of the rest of the population of Earth. It’s simple mathematics, Ultra.”
“I… I… “ she began, but I could tell she knew I was right.
“You know there’s no alternative.” I told her. “We have to do this, and we have to do it now. We have to get behind that blob of girls and push it, as fast as we can, right at the main weapon.”
“The aliens will see us coming!” she predicted.
“Probably.” I conceded. “I expect they’ll fire at us with everything they’ve got. We just have to hope that the girls can shield us from it for long enough…”
“Blogger, that’s so heartless!” Ultra chastised.
“You got a better plan?” I asked.
And I think I’ll leave it there. Until the next post…
Monday 20 March 2006 16:44 GMT
Which is worse: to be brainwashed by aliens into throwing cars, buses and policemen around or to be brainwashed by a geek into believing that he’s some kind of god? There’s no contest as far as I’m concerned. Smashing up stuff is fun.
But for the almost-five-hundred-strong army of supergirls that Ultragirl and I had assembled into one big, naked mass of limbs and bodies, option 2 was the order of the day. “Duane, Duane, Duane, Duane” they chanted, monosyllabically.
Ultra and I flew around them, pushing them closer to one another, pointing in the direction where the alien mothership lay, trying to explain to the multi-lingual crowd that we would be taking them to their “hero”. The girls seemed so desperate to get close to the object of their desire that they were happy to be shoved and pressed into position by us. None of them suspected that they were actually being prepared to act as a “superhuman shield” that Ultra and I could hide behind when the extraterrestrial ship fired its main weapon.
Once we were satisfied that we had forced the girls into as tight a group as possible, we were ready. We flew around the mass of naked female flesh, me towards the left of the group and Ultra towards the right. Both of us reached out until our palms were pressed flat against the group. My left hand was on a bit of arm, my right on a magnificently tight, spherical buttock. Ultra’s contact was with the back of a head and a shoulder-blade.
I turned to look at her. “OK?” I asked. She nodded, solemnly.
“On the count of three…” I announced.
“One…. Two…. Three…. CHARGE!!!”
Wednesday 22 March 2006 17:45 GMT
So, we were pushing the mass of captured supergirls towards the alien mothership.
The girls were chanting the name of their new (electronically brain-implanted) hero “Duane, Duane, Duane, Duane”. As Ultragirl and I started to build up speed, the chant became faster too. The effect was like a bizarre steam train pulling out of a station.
Pretty soon, we were moving quicker than any man-made rocket has ever achieved. It was actually quite fun, preparing to attack with our most peculiar weapon. I looked across at Ultra. The look on her (lovely) face gave a good indication that she wasn’t enjoying things nearly as much as I was. I gave her a little wink, but she barely responded. She seemed more interested in where she was placing her hands.
I started to accelerate, not yet anywhere near my top speed, but still pretty fast. The girls’ monotonous song sped up accordingly: “Duane, Duane, Duane…”
“Hey girl!” I shouted over to Ultra. I had to shout to make my voice clear over the constant chanting. “We need to go a lot quicker if this plan is going to work.”
Putting on a burst of speed, I noticed that my side of the mass of girls was moving ahead of hers. If things continued that way, it would have ended with me dragging a column of supergirls from the front and Ultra hanging on for the ride at the rear. That was not what I had intended. I wanted as many of the naked superhuman young women between me and that alien weapon as possible.
“For fuck’s sake, Ultra!” I yelled. “Stop feeling up their bodies and start pushing! Properly!”
She gave me an angry, distasteful look.
“What?” I demanded. “Can’t you go any faster? Is that it?” To my surprise, she immediately increased her pace to match my own. The chant reached fever pitch “Duane, Duane, Duane, Duane, Duane…”
“I want you to know that I’m only doing this because it’s our only hope.” Ultragirl shouted over at me.
“That’s nice.” I replied. “I want you to know that I’m also doing it because it’s a lot of fun.” She made a point of turning her head away from me at that point.
We continued to fly towards the mothership. Every so often, I stepped up a “gear” or two, pushing the girls ever more rapidly towards their destiny. Each time, Ultra wordlessly matched the new speed. Each time, the repetitive call of the young women also gained pace. “Duane, Duane, Duane..”
It wasn’t long before I spotted our target through a tiny gap between the sexy, superhuman arms, legs, faces, buttocks and breasts of the mass of girls.
“Get ready!” I called over to Ultra.
Thursday 23 March 2006 17:34 GMT
This is what the scene must have looked like from inside the alien mothership:
"Duane! Duane! Duane! Duane! Duane! Duane!"
Then, the main weapon was fired.
The chanting stopped.
And the screaming began.
Tuesday 28 March 2006 17:19 GMT
Neither Ultragirl nor I could pretend to be surprised when the mothership's main weapon finally fired. A tight group of almost five hundred Earthlings rocketing straight towards their key vessel was never going to pass unnoticed...
I wonder if the aliens realised that the crowd charging at them was comprised entirely of young women? And not just any young women: superhuman and staggeringly beautiful young women...
I wonder if they heard the girls' chanting of Duane's name, and if they did, what they made of it. Did they notice how the singing was increasingly drowned out by cries of agony as their laser-beam engulfed more and more of the group that Ultra and I were hiding behind? Were the extraterrestrials even aware that the two of us were there?
The alien-enhanced girls could not fly of course. Out in the emptiness of space, they were powerless to avoid the weapon, even as Ultra and I pushed them ever closer to its source. There was no escape from the terrifying energy-ray as it blasted them. Only screaming.
Some of the girls at the front of the group were bathed in the beam for several seconds. Their yells became particularly shrill as their gorgeous bodies started to glow, a clear indication that every single cell had been saturated by the weapon's fiery blasts. But those bodies were not just spectacularly well-proportioned. They were also indestructible.
"I can't stand to listen to this screaming any more!" Ultra protested, yelling at me over the chaotic din.
Personally, I've never minded the sound of other people's shouts of pain. In fact, to be frank, they usually amuse me. On this occasion, I wasn't having as much fun as normal so I was just ignoring the cries of agony all around me. I felt Ultra was making too big a deal out of the suffering. "I thought you'd be glad to hear all this complaining." I shouted over to her.
"Glad? Me? Why?" she asked, sounding a little upset.
"Because a screaming girl is an alive girl," I pointed out. "I thought you didn't want them to die. Well, they don't seem to be dying!"
"But... they're in agony!" she noted.
"Yes," I concurred with mock concern, "that beam is an absolute bitch." We both knew that the screaming girls were all that was keeping us from receiving a large dose of extraterrestrial pain. Ultra obviously felt a little guilty about that. I did not. "Keep pushing them towards the source of that thing," I told her, adding: "Don't slow now - we're almost there."
"Blogger! We can't push them any closer!" she protested. "We'll kill them!"
"I'm not so sure about that." I shouted back. "Look at the space between the front of the crowd and the beam!".
"Oh my.... What is that?" she asked, staring at the strange phenomenon. Arcing across the gap between the glowing young women who had taken the brunt of the alien ray and the weapon's point-of-origin, a violent array of bright blue sparks had emerged. Like a river of lightening, the bolts of electricity flowed between the girls and the beam-generator. If it wasn't for the incessant screaming, it would have made for a very pretty scene.
"It's the girls' own brainwave energy interfering with the weapon's current, just as we hoped." I said. It was little more than a guess, but it was probably right. "The plan's working! Keep pushing!"
My enthusiasm and the way I presented my conjecture as fact were enough to dispel Ultra's lingering doubts. With renewed determination, she helped me close the distance between the front of the mass of supergirls and the massive side of the mothership.
The beam's focus was not especially wide. Quickly, as we pushed the girls closer, those on the flanks of the group passed through the ray's edge. The change in them as they were no longer being bombarded by the hateful energy was remarkable. One instant they were thrashing about screaming, the next they were calmly resuming their ridiculous "Duane, Duane, Duane..." chanting. However much pain it caused, the weapon seemed not to have any lasting effect.
Most of the girls were still in the thick of the ray, however, their agony not yet over. The volume and ferocity of the blue sparks shooting from them to the side of the ship and back again increased with every moment. It didn't require a superhuman and beautiful-beyond-reason genius (i.e. me) to realise that something had to give. And pretty soon, too...
Wednesday 29 March 2006 16:58 BST (GMT+1)
One day, a few years ago, I was feeling bored. So I leapt over a barbed-wire fence into an electricity sub-station and embraced a couple of 30,000-volt live terminals.
The current shot through my body and, for a few seconds, I was enveloped in blue and white sparks. Naturally, if you tried the same trick you'd be burnt to charcoal in a split second. Me? I was slightly disappointed. The sensation was fairly weak and it only lasted a couple of seconds before something blew and the electricity supply was cut. It goes without saying that I walked away untouched. Oh, and it took six men with specialist equipment three days to repair the damage I caused with my bare hands in as many seconds.
But I'm not telling you all that simply because it's fun to reminisce. I merely want to point out that the intensity and size of the arcing sparks I encountered on that day were less than a tenth of the electrical storm that was suddenly unleashed by the alien mothership's main weapon.
It happened when Ultragirl and I had pushed the ball of naked superwomen to within about twenty yards of the source of that horrid ray. There had been a growing flux of electrical discharges building up between the girls and the weapon for some moments. But nothing prepared me for the unexpected sight of the pure white beam of energy dissolving into a series of lightening-like forks that ripped through our "superhuman shield".
It was hard to tell which direction the energy was flowing. Some fingers of blue light seemed to be arcing from the end of the ray towards the young women. Others appeared to originate in the head of one of the girls and pass from there to the side of the massive ship. I figured that, unsurprisingly, I'd been right all along. What we were witnessing was our girls' brainwave energy clashing with the extraterrestrials’ power source.
Amidst the sounds of electrical crackling, I heard the boringly familiar "Duane, Duane, Duane..." chant starting up once more. Obviously, although it looked spectacular, the barrage of energy was hurting the girls less and less. More and more of them joined in the mantra. The last of the screams of pain faded as, pretty quickly, every single one of those alien-enhanced young women took up the monotonous sloganeering: "Duane, Duane, Duane..."
A couple of sharp reverberations captured my attention. I thought at first that something inside the ship was exploding; that the combined brainwaves of our unusual army had proved even more devastating than I had hoped. But I soon saw the real source of the disturbances. The girls nearest the alien vessel had begun to pound on the smooth metal with their fists in time with their chanting.
All the girls were clambering over one another in a frantic, but effective attempt to reach the side of the mothership. They continued to call for their hero and thump the ship in time. As more and more small (but awesomely powerful) feminine fists got within reach, the effect was increasingly impressive.
I could see the entire vessel shuddering very slightly each time the (now nearly one thousand) fists were slammed against that comparatively tiny area of its surface. "Duane!" Thump. Shudder. "Duane!" Thump. Shudder. "Duane!" Thump. Without warning, the bath of blue sparks vanished. Shudder. "Duane!" Thump. Shudder.
"Look at that!" I called over to Ultra.
"Duane!" chorused the girls.
"They've broken the wea-" Ultragirl had spotted it too.
Thump! The beautifully choreographed mass-pounding interrupted Ultra.
"We have to act now." I observed during the relatively quiet beat of the shudder.
"What's the plan?" Ultra asked.
"We destroy this-" I began.
"Duane!" shouted the girls.
"-whole ship and everything on-" I continued.
"-it." I finished.
"Isn't there another way?" asked Ultra as the mighty craft shook. It continued to shake for a few more seconds than on the previous occasions.
"Don't tell me-" I started, pausing for the inevitable shout of
before going on to say "-you're against hurting alien aggressors too?"
"I'm against unnecessary aggr-" Now it was her turn to be interrupted.
"-ession and violence." she concluded. Meanwhile the entire mothership reverberated for quite a few seconds.
I explained. "This is necce-"
"-ssary - to save the Earth! Look, I'm-"
"-getting fed up trying to talk to you over this din.... Wow! Did you see that last shake? I wonder how much more-"
"-of this that ship can take!"
The most impressive "Shudder" yet...
Thursday 30 March 2006 17:14 BST (GMT+1)
“Duane!” Thump! Shudder! “Duane!” Thump! Shudder!
The rhythm was beginning to get on my nerves. It clearly wasn’t doing much good for the alien mothership either. Those girls had been extremely strong when Ultragirl and I plucked them from the ground (true, not as strong as me, but then, nothing is as strong as me). I’d say each of them had at least the strength of a thousand men when we dragged them up to space.
The main weapon must have taken quite a bit out of them. It definitely left Ultra weakened when she first encountered it, and it didn’t exactly put me in a good mood either. But even if it reduced each girl’s strength by an average of, say, fifty percent, they could still pound their fists with devastating force. Especially when five hundred of them landed their blows simultaneously. Over and over again.
Each time they executed the “Duane!” Thump! portion of their routine, the subsequent Shudder! was more violent and longer-lasting.
“They’re going to smash that-“ Ultra started, ill-advisedly, to speak to me.
“Duane!” shouted five hundred beautiful, naked, superhuman young women.
“-ship apart at this-“ Ultra battled on.
“Yes.” I agreed quickly, while the massive craft was still trembling from the latest impact and before the girls could shout again.
“Duane!” the inevitable yell came.
“Do we… just, er…” Ultragirl had learnt her lesson. She waited for the Thump! before finishing: “let them?”
I shrugged. Firstly because I really didn’t have a strong opinion. Secondly because a shrug couldn’t be interrupted by chanting or thumping. And thirdly because I knew Ultra couldn’t help but be impressed by the way my body moved, even in zero gravity, as I performed the casual gesture. I caught the look in her eye which revealed that she had, indeed, enjoyed the view.
The unusual assault on the mothership continued unabated.
“Duane!” Thump! Shudder!
“Duane!” Thump! Shudder!
“Duane!” Thump! Shudder!
“Who said that?” I asked, perplexed.
“Not me,” said Ultra, equally confused.
“Duane!” Thump! The girls carried on, still in rhythm. Shudder!
“Stop!” said the same, unknown, female voice.
“Where the fuck is that coming from?” I demanded.
“Duane!” replied the girls in unison, unhelpfully.
“I… I don’t know” Ultragirl’s response wasn’t much better.
“I said: Stop!” the Voice reiterated.
“Duane!” shouted the girls.
“Please!” pleaded the Voice. “Thump!” went the fists. “You’re hurting me!” said the voice. I couldn’t help but notice that the last two words were said slightly quiveringly, a direct reflection of the ship vibrating in response to the latest bashing it had received.
“Please! I’m not -“
The massive metallic blow obscured the end of the Voice’s statement.
“What did you just say?” I asked.
“I’m not-“ began the voice.
“Duane!” chorused the girls for the umpteenth time.
“Yes, I’m-“ the Voice tried again.
Thump! The girls drowned out a word.
“-Du-a-a-n-e” wavered the Voice.
“You’re not Duane?” asked Ultragirl. “We already-“
“Duane!” went the young women.
“-know that.” finished Ultragirl.
Thump! The girls did not let up.
“I- d-dooon’t knooow wheerrree-” the Voice wobbled along with the ship “-Duane is.”
“Duane!” echoed the girls.
“But you know who he is?” I inquired, intrigued.
“Offf cccooouuurrrseee,” quivered the Voice before it and the vessel stabilised once more. “He’s my brother.”
“Your brother?!?” Ultragirl was shocked.
“Your brother?!?” I was shocked too.
“Duane!” the girls didn’t seem to be following the conversation.
More next time, folks…
Friday 31 March 2006 20:27 BST (GMT+1)
“-‘s sister?” I asked, amazed, allowing the chorus girls to fill in the middle word.
Thump! “Yyyeeessss” the voice wobbled with the ship.
“Duane… Perkins?” I queried.
“Duane!” echoed the crowd of young women.
“Who else could have created this-“ started the voice.
“-bbbbrrraaaiiiiinnnwwwwaaaavvvveeee nightmare?”, the voice quivered and then recovered.
“So you’re his-“ I began to repeat.
“Wwwwweeeellllllllll, I was” said the voice.
It was Ultragirl’s turn to try and get a sentence out: “I don’t-“
“-understand. What do-“
“-you mean by ‘was’”? asked Ultragirl.
“Cccaaannn’ttt yyooouuu mmmmake them stop?” quivered the voice before stabilising.
“They can’t fly.” I informed.
“Duane!” interrupted the five hundred.
“Can you pilot the ship?” I asked.
“Iiiiii aaammmmm tthhhhe ship!”
“What?” both Ultra and I asked, simultaneously.
“I am the ship.”
“Ittt’sss ttthhhheeee oooonnnlllly physical form I have now.”
“This is getting weird.” I observed.
“Please make them stop!” begged the ship/voice.
“Just move away from them. They can’t follow.”
“My power supply has been-“
“Fine. I’ll do it then.” I announced.
“Duane!” the girls didn’t really indicate whether they were in favour of, or against my offer.
I flew around to the far side of the massive vessel, well over a mile away from the girls. I saw the effect on the entire ship of their Thump!. The entire craft shook for nearly two seconds.
There were no natural handholds to be seen, so I had to make my own by pinching the finger tips of both hands into the strange smooth metallic alloy. It was probably several times harder than steel, but don’t ask me as I squeezed it without any real difficulty.
“Duane!” shouted the girls from the other side as I used the new grips I had installed to pull the ship away from the robotic young superwomen.
The next “Thump!” was much lighter than the previous. Clearly, I’d already pulled the mothership out of reach of many of the girls. I flew back round and saw that about a fifth of them were still clinging on. With Ultragirl’s help, it was short work to dislodge all of them and leave them floating in space once more. I towed the ship using my flight-powers until it was some distance clear of the naked supergirls.
“Thank you.” said the very relieved sounding ship/voice. “I thought they were going to destroy my… my body.”
“Your body?” asked Ultragirl, flying over to join me.
“This vessel… it is my body now. Without it, there would be only nothingness.”
“OK. This is getting out of hand. I’m not comfortable when I don’t feel in complete control.” I admitted. “So here’s the plan. You - Spaceship Perkins - are going to tell us the whole story, starting at the beginning. Otherwise, I swear, by the time I’m through there won’t even be nothingness.”
“She means it.” Ultragirl warned, “I’m not sure I’d be able to stop her.”
I shot Ultra a warning look that was supposed to say “Don’t even think about trying to stop me” and folded my arms across my glorious chest. “Come on then. I’m waiting.” I prompted the voice/ship/sister.
“OK, OK. I’ll tell you everything. But you must promise to help me afterwards,” said the whatever.
“I only promise to smash your ‘body’ to dust if you don’t talk.” I threatened.
“Of course we’ll help,” contradicted Ultra. She really can be so soft….
There was a pause and then: “You probably think my brother is some kind of genius scientist-“
“-No, I think he’s some kind of jerk.” I interrupted.
“Blogger, please. Let her, er, it, tell the story.” Ultra asked. I rolled my eyes.
“He’s not the father of brainwave science you know,” the voice continued the narrative. “I am. Well, I am the mother of brainwave science, not the father, obviously. Duane took everything from me. My research, my equipment. And then he took my body from me.”
“How?” asked Ultra.
“I was trying to build a device that could exploit brainwave energy to provide a cheap, sustainable power source. It could have solved so many of mankind’s problems (in addition to making me extremely rich and powerful). Duane stole my notes and tried to use them to create a weapon. But he didn’t understand.”
“There’s a fundamental difference between male and female brainwaves… Female brainwaves can be harnessed to power huge spaceships and mighty, planet-destroying weapons and to control minds and enhance female bodies and so much more. As far as I ever found out, male brainwaves can only be used to power the smallest of hand-weapons and enhance the flavour of certain hot beverages. Duane did not understand this at first. His attempts failed miserably. In the end, I told him the truth in exchange for him giving me back my notes.”
“But Duane would not give up on his weapon. When he found out that he needed female brainwaves to power it, he tried to steal mine. He built a device, again, based on my research and theories. And again, he got it wrong. He tried to use my own brainwaves against themselves. Something kind of short-circuited… the result was that my brainwaves were stripped, violently, from my physical being.”
“My consciousness became separated from my body. I found myself floating in a strange blackness, with no physical form to interpret or interact with my surroundings. I guess I must have floated out into space. It felt like I was in the dark for years. Maybe it was only days. I don't know."