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April 2007

Monday 2 April 2007 17:56 BST (GMT+1)

A total of nine thugs had fled the car-park once I’d started to do my thing to their gang.

Four of them stupidly thought they could escape a goddess like me merely by running. I’ve already told you how wrong they were. There were two more who were labouring under the misapprehension that there is such a thing as a place where a man can hide unseen and undetected by me. Realising that those two were not going anywhere in a hurry, I turned my attention to the three young men trying to get away using motorised transport.

From a thousand feet above the streets, my beautiful eyes zoomed in on two of them sitting in the front of a car. Even though they were nearing the outskirts of the city, eight miles clear of the car-park, the pair still appeared to be nervous, constantly glancing over their shoulders to see if they were being followed.

Of course, they didn’t spot me, high in the night sky, grinning down on them. Turning my head, I focussed in on another part of the town below, quickly finding the third vehicle-assisted fleeing gang-member. He was barrelling down a wide boulevard on a motorcycle, heading out of the city, around a dozen miles away from his friends in the car. He, too, was using every opportunity to check the street behind him for signs that I might be giving chase. I couldn’t help but smile at the deep impression I’d already made on these three “tough” males...

On a whim, I decided to deal with the lone bike-bound thug first. Diving fluidly downwards towards the street, I kept myself high and out-of-sight above him as he came to a junction and was forced to stop whilst he waited for the speeding cross-traffic to pass. As I predicted, he did not waste the opportunity to twist his neck and look at the empty road behind him. Once he was satisfied in his misplaced belief that there was no-one following him, he looked back at the road ahead, revving his engine as he impatiently waited for a chance to accelerate away.

I stayed hovering above the gang-member whilst cars swished past until he was ready to move. With his attention fixed on the road ahead once more, I descended from the sky, landing with silent, superhuman grace, my pretty bare toes just a few inches behind the motorbike’s rear wheel. At the same time I calmly curled the fingers of my left hand around the nearest piece of the vehicle’s frame, enjoying the feeling of the shiny chrome deforming like soft clay in my grasp.

The engine roared furiously. The wheel spun. But the bike didn’t move. My casual hold was more than enough to keep it in place. The subtle, feminine muscle of my slender arm instantly overpowered the noisy expensive man-made motor without me noticing any strain. Perplexed, the rider turned to see what was happening and found himself face-to-face with me. The fear that suddenly filled his features was enough to make me giggle, but my grip on his motorbike remained solid.

He began to panic almost immediately. An attempt to dislodge my perfect arm by slamming his fist downwards onto it resulted only in him crying with pain as a couple of bones in his hand shattered. Then, he tried using the power of his vehicle against me. He gunned the engine. Smoke began to rise from the tyre scrapping uselessly on the road, then with a Bang! the rubber surrendered to me entirely. Sparks now sprayed over my naked ankles as the metal wheel rim ground away at the tarmac, but I felt no discomfort. A few seconds later and, with a second sharp retort, the thing’s puny engine gave up altogether.

In the sudden quiet, I saw the big thick sole of the thug’s boot leave the side of the useless bike and head for my slim naked ankle, but I made no effort to move out of its way. If I’d been “ordinary” the blow would have snapped my bones. Instead, it merely jolted the biker’s leg hard enough to make him scream without leaving even so much as a tiny mark on my flawless smooth skin. In shock he sat back down on his saddle once more, tears of pain forming in his eyes.

I was still holding on to the back of the (now dead) motorbike. The easiest little flick of my delicate-looking wrist pulled the whole vehicle out from underneath the gang-member. As he fell, rear-first, onto the hard street, crying out with fresh shock and agonies, I raised my arm, holding the bike so that it dangled from my fingers. I don’t know how much that machine weighed, but it felt about as heavy as a small scrap of paper to me.

The thug was looking up and up at me in terror and awe as he lay on his back, propping himself up on his elbows, clearly in too much discomfort to stand up. For a few seconds, his ever-widening eyes ping-ponged backwards and forwards between the big motorbike hanging from my grasp and the under-curves of my big, looming, superhumanly firm and upstanding breasts. Eventually, his gaze settled entirely on my chest. Whilst a motorbike dangling from the dainty fingers of a girl was not something he would have seen everyday, the glory of my naked body was obviously even more spectacular a sight.

From above the dramatic curves of my chest, I looked down with superior glee at the helpless creature lying at my feet.

“You have no idea how much of a kick I’m getting out of this,” I told him.

His facial features began to re-arrange themselves into a confused expression, but they never quite made it in time. I had already raised my right leg and swung it, with disinterested ease, to drive my bare foot into his ribs. His scream cut short as his rib-cage yielded to my beautiful toes with a sound like popping corn. By then, my kick had already lifted his body a few feet into the air. My foot returned to the street as he continued to soar, ever higher, away from me.

It was quite a few seconds before his body stopped rising and stared to come down. I had to use my X-ray vision to see him complete his final flight as he fell behind a row of buildings. I was chuckling away, still holding his bike. Its bulk had caused my single hand so little inconvenience that I had almost forgotten about it. Without a second thought, I tossed it over my shoulder, letting it rocket down the street behind me for about a hundred yards before it landed and, an instant later, exploded in a ball of flame.

I flew over the still-raging fire as I headed back across town, my fantastic vision already zooming in on the car carrying my two next targets.

Find out about what I did to them in my next post.

Tuesday 3 April 2007 17:57 BST (GMT+1)

The two gang-members speeding through the edge of that city in their car must’ve thought they’d escaped me.

They were more than fifteen miles from the car-park where they’d encountered me, and speeding out of town. In addition, they’d been checking for signs of being followed all the way, and had seen nothing. The one in the passenger seat turned back to his companion after his latest glance through the rear window and said “There’s nothing coming. Thank fuck for that!”

Of course, I’d been following them for a while from a thousand feet overhead, watching them with my X-ray vision and listening to them with my super-hearing. Leisurely, I went into a dive, swooping down towards the road far below. I landed on the soles of my feet, unseen, a few yards behind the speeding car and immediately set off at a jog. I stayed by the side of the street and within a dozen strides I was alongside the driver’s window.

In the darkness, neither of the vehicle’s two occupants noticed me comfortably keeping pace with them. The car was in its top gear, its accelerator pressed all the way down and its engine was making a racket as it was pushed to its limits. I matched its speed without any real effort, casually jogging alongside, knowing that I could have run dozens of times faster if I’d needed to. I also knew that the car would have rusted away to powder in less time than it would have taken me to tire of running.

Of course, I wasn’t there just to get some exercise. I was there for the two young men who thought they could run away from me. I steered myself towards their vehicle, and, still running, made a fist of my left hand, leant over and knocked on the driver’s side window to get his attention.

“Oh fuck!” the driver screamed a few seconds after he’d turned and seen me, looked back at the road ahead and then completed a double-take. He face turned pale. He turned to the road once more, back to me and then slammed on the brakes.

At that moment, I reached in. The side window was closed, but my fingers just passed through it, shattering the glass as if it wasn’t there. Grabbing the top of the door frame with my left hand, I hoisted the entire vehicle with its two passengers completely off the road. My thin, long arm supported the weight with such ease, I barely even registered the weight. Meanwhile my legs continued to pound away, carrying me and the car and the two gang-members along at around a hundred miles an hour.

I brought us all to a sharp halt, but not too sharp. The males were shaken up by the deceleration, but not sent flying through the windshield. While they sat trembling and panting, I thought it might be a good moment to introduce myself. Of course, rather than bending my head towards the smashed side-window, I used my arm to pull the smashed window up to my face, lifting the whole car a few further feet in the process.

“Hi boys,” I said with a broad grin, my face level with the former driver’s, only about twelve inches away. “You thought you’d seen the last of me, hadn’t you?” There was no reply from the men. Just shaking and sweating. So I went on: “Well, I’ve got good news and bad news for you. The good news is that this is the last you’ll be seeing of me. The bad news is that this is the last you’ll be seeing of anything.”

“P…p….please don’t…” stammered the one in the passenger seat, tears of terror forming in his eyes.

“I’m afraid you don’t have any say in this,” I explained, cheerfully.

“W- w- who the hell are you?” croaked the driver.

“Oh, I haven’t got time for all that now,” I dismissed the question and then ended the brief discussion altogether with a curt, but smiley “Goodbye, boys!”

My single hand gripping around the top of the frame of the driver’s door did not give me the best hold for manipulating the vehicle, but my strength is so vast, it didn’t matter. I didn’t even bother bending my arm to generate some swing. I just tossed the car away with a simple flick of my feminine wrist.

If the vehicle had been shot from a giant cannon, it would not have risen so high and so fast into the night sky. The gang-members inside screamed as they shot away from me. They screamed as they and their car flew higher and higher into the distance. I used my super-hearing to enjoy their continued screams as the vehicle finally stopped rising and started to descend. They were still screaming just as the whole thing was about to crash back down to earth.

The screams stopped at the moment of impact. The car came down half-a-mile from where I was standing, on a patch of dusty ground behind a supermarket. I had already taken to the air to get the best possible view of the inevitable explosion. For a few moments, I hovered and let the tops of the tallest flames lick pleasantly at my bare toes.

That left just two members of the originally thirty-strong gang. I turned in the air and headed back towards the centre of the city to deal with them. That’s in my next post…

Wednesday 4 April 2007 18:07 BST (GMT+1)

If you think about it, trying to hide from me is a pointless waste of time:

My eyes: beautiful, bright, clear, sexy. And capable of spotting a grain of salt from ten miles away. In the dark. And if I use my X-ray vision, then they are capable of spotting that same grain of salt from ten miles away, in the dark, through solid steel and concrete.

My nose: cute, attractive, flawless. And capable of picking out the scent of one individual man amongst a city full of people from thousands of yards away.

My ears: pretty, perfect, feminine. And capable of hearing the beating of a single human heart and identifying the origin of the sound from a distance of several miles while a jet aircraft takes off right next to me.

My legs: long, shapely, smooth, erotic. And capable of running at thousands of miles an hour. If I bother to run. Otherwise, I just fly, even faster….

And my brain: capable of processing all that information, and sending instructions to my superhuman legs in a blink of my superhuman eye.

Despite all that, I’ll bet the final two gang-members thought they were being clever when they ran from the car-park and then tried to find “ingenious” hiding places nearby rather than continuing to run like their soon-to-be-caught friends. The truth is, they might as well have stayed in the middle of the car-park holding neon signs for all the good “hiding” did for them.

From the air, I spotted the first of them. He was sitting in the third room of a dark, smoking, seedy cinema auditorium, just a few streets away from the concrete field over which the bodies of much of his gang were sprinkled.

Chuckling as I imagined the thug saying to himself “She’ll never find me here!” I swooped down from the sky into the alley behind the cinema. With my ability to see through solid objects, I was already familiar with the internal layout of the building as I approached an out-of-use emergency exit. The door was secured with a heavy-duty steel padlock, which I mangled and broke with an effortless pinch of my thumb and forefinger.

Once inside, I made my way up the back staircase, and through a fire escape doorway into the auditorium. The place was only about a quarter full but it was sufficiently dark away from the beam of the projector. I moved silently and was able to slip into a seat right next to the fugitive gang-member without him suspecting a thing.

Leaning towards him, I whispered “Funny, I never imagined you as a film-buff.”

He turned, realised who I was, and started to both shriek and leap to his feet. I acted quickly, grabbing his arm with my left hand to pull him back into his seat and placing my right hand over his mouth to silence him. Of course he immediately set about struggling, trying to break free of my hold or at least dislodge one of my hands. Or even one of my fingers. His efforts were useless of course. How could any mere male resist my fabulous strength?

“Shhh,” I hissed in his now captive ear. “You’ll spoil the film for everyone else!”

My words did not have the desired effect. The thug continued to squirm and wriggle against me. I could have simply held him in place until he passed out through exhaustion, but I had other plans.

“Fine,” I whispered, “I’ll just have to make you sit still.”

I pursed my luscious red lips and gently blew a stream of frozen superbreath at the gang-member’s head. As the cloud of super-cold breath touch him, it instantly solidified every molecule of liquid it encountered. I wasn’t exhaling hard, just wafting a little bit of cold breath over him, but it was enough to freeze his entire head completely solid. Of course, the rest of him ceased moving as well.

My lips relaxed into a smile and I took my hands away from his corpse. “Stay chilled!” I whispered as I stood up. Then I silently made my way unseen from the theatre, slipping out the door, down the stairs and back into the alley.

After that, I took to the air once more, heading for the hiding place of the last gang-member. I’ll tell you all about it in my next post.

Thursday 5 April 2007 20:53 BST (GMT+1)

The last of the gang-members was obviously as classy as his colleagues.

Why else did he decide, when he ran from the car-park, to lift up the nearest manhole cover and drop down into the city's sewers? If putting himself in such an unpleasant location could have shielded him from me, I would have understood. But I spotted him with my X-ray vision from half-a-mile above the street, my gaze piercing ten feet of concrete as if it was transparent.

As I flew down, I found I could even smell him as he hid in his underground refuge by tuning out the stench and concentrating on his unique odour. He was crouching on a ledge just above the flowing waste, throwing constant terrified glances along the tunnel to his left and right. Of course, I wasn't approaching along the tunnel…

Flying head-first downwards, I didn't stop when I reached the street. I could clearly see the cowering thug under the road so I steered a path about ten yards to one side of him. The ground didn't slow my flight in the slightest. I just flew right through it.

My fists hit the tarmac and sunk into it. The top of my skull followed a moment later, my invulnerable head simply crushing the road to dust as it smashed cleanly through. I continued to fly down, my shoulders the next part of me to carve effortlessly through the street and the concrete below. The hole I was making was then considerably widened as my large proud chest hit the road, my big round breasts proving just as effective as the rest of me at smashing, crushing and obliterating any solid material that had the misfortune to stand in their way.

In no time at all, my fingers and then my head, shoulders, breasts and all burst through the inner wall of the tunnel proceeded by a large barrage of pieces of dislodged stone. The man on the ledge screamed and jumped up, losing his footing and landing with a Splash! in the filthy liquid whilst I flew through the raining rubble, letting the chunks of concrete bounce uselessly off my beautiful, naked body.

Of course, it would have been unbefitting of a goddess to stand in the ankle-high torrent of sewage. So I twisted gracefully in mid-air, coming to rest in a "seated" position facing the quivering gang-member, my legs stretched out straight in front of me, parallel with the surface of the waste flowing beneath me. Floating comfortably with my legs and rear about three feet above the liquid, I smiled at my surprised, wet and very frightened host.

"Nice place you've got here," I commented. "The décor isn't to my taste, but I have to admit, it suits you."

The male started to back nervously away from me, dragging his feet through the foul river but not taking his terrified eyes off me for an instant. "H- h- how d- d- did y- you f- f- f-" he stammered.

"How did I find you?" Impatiently, I completed the question for him. I laughed. "Oh, it was easy. Everything is easy for me. Finding you was easy. Getting in here was easy. And.." my grin widened at this point (I just couldn't help it) "…killing you will be even easier."

"W- W- Why?" he was still backing away, trembling like an autumn leaf in an powerful earthquake.

"Why not?" I shrugged. Even in his state, when my casual shoulder movement caused my magnificent chest to bounce in its uniquely erotic, superhumanly firm way, his body reacted. Enjoying my power, I started to float towards him, keeping my distance from the wet ground. Quickly, I nullified the effects of his backing-off.

I arched my back slightly to thrust out my glorious breasts, making their perfect roundness all the more stunning. The thug caught his breath and froze on the spot, no longer retreating, as if I had hypnotised him merely by accentuating my chest. In a way, I suppose I had. Men can be so pathetically easy to control in that way (regardless of whether or not they also happen to be afraid for their lives…)

"Terrific, aren't they?" I asked, proudly moving my upper body slowly from side to side to really show off my feminine magnificence.

"Uh…" Clearly, the overwhelming desirability of my body had robbed the creature of the ability to speak coherently. The throbbing bulge in the crotch of his jeans revealed the whereabouts of the extra blood that his brain was lacking.

Taking my time, I lifted my right hand towards my face, curling its digits into my fist except for the index. I parted my lips sensuously and then extended the tip of my tongue and erotically licked my finger. I could hear the thug's ever faster panting mirroring his racing heartbeat as I took that now glistening finger on a slow tour down my neck, onto the top of my right breast and over its perfect curve. I skated my fingertip around the base of my big, sexy, pink nipple before finally resting it right on top of the crown of my superhuman feminine glory.

"Mmmm. Even better to touch than to look at," I purred at the shaking, gasping young man. "Would you like to find out for yourself?"

Anyway, that's enough for today. I'll continue the report in my next post.

Friday 6 April 2007 14:16 BST (GMT+1)

Previously on “Playtime with Blogger”:

I skated my fingertip around the base of my big, sexy, pink nipple before finally resting it right on top of the crown of my superhuman feminine glory.

"Mmmm. Even better to touch than to look at," I purred at the shaking, gasping young man. "Would you like to find out for yourself?"

Tonight’s episode: “And Then There Were None”

There was only one answer that a young man faced with such an offer could give. What normal male could resist an invitation to lay his weak, unworthy hand on one of my simply unrivalled, big, indestructible, perfectly rounded breasts? Unfortunately, the thug in the sewer was finding it hard to put his thoughts into words.

Maybe he was too scared to speak properly. After all, he’d seen some of what I’d done to the rest of his gang. And I’d already mentioned that I was going to kill him. Or perhaps he couldn’t talk because he was still stunned by the dramatic nature of my arrival when I effortlessly smashed through two yards of stone.

There was also a third possibility: that his inarticulate state might have been due to the fact that my sexy body had driven him to the brink of a complete loss of control. I could see the quivering erection inside his clothes, and I could smell the extreme male arousal leaking out of his pores. Of course, the way I was still moving my finger slowly around the very tip of my glorious, large and harder-than-diamond nipple was only pushing him closer and closer to an involuntary eruption.

He did try to take me up on my offer. But “Y- Y- I- I- I-” was the best that he could manage. I smiled at his helplessness.

“Of course you’d like to touch!” I answered for him. “You’d love to touch. There’s nothing in the world you want more right now, is there?”

“Uh… I- I-”

I chuckled. “Didn’t think so. You want to touch me so badly. I bet you’d willingly offer your life to me in exchange for a few seconds’ contact with me. You would, wouldn’t you? Happily surrender your life to me just to touch me…. Just to touch this breast. Don’t deny it. I know you would. Your life for a second with my breast… It’s true, isn’t it?”

“I- ah- p- pl- please-”

“Please… what?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Please let you touch me for a second in exchange for your life? Let you touch my perfect breast?” I started to exaggerate the circular movements of my fingertip around my indescribably erotic pink nipple.

“Uh- Uh-”

I chuckled as the thug started to shake where he stood. His groin spasmed again and again and a dark stain appeared in the crotch of his jeans.

“Well,” I laughed, “now you know why I could never, ever let you touch me. See what just looking has done to you!”

He was panting now, still trembling, his body just beginning to come down from the throes of uncontrollable release. “Oh… my… god…” he gasped.

“Goddess“ I corrected. Having proven my complete sexual domination over the thug, I found myself suddenly bored with him. I narrowed my eyes, and half a second later, there was nothing left of him above the ankles save some black powder floating in the sewage. The twin beams of pure heat energy that briefly shot from my pupils were more than enough to reduce his flesh and bone to ash.

After that, I shot straight upwards, smashing a second new hole in the road overhead, ignoring the chunks of stone I displaced as I tore through the asphalt. I climbed vertically, soaring through the clouds above the city before briefly looking down and spotting where I’d left the bodies of various members of the now utterly defunct street gang.

With a satisfied smile, I headed for home. Sure, I had failed my “glove challenge”, but I’d had an awful lot of fun. And of course, I knew I was going to have to try all over again to succeed at my challenge. All I needed was to find another pair of gloves. And another gang…

Tuesday 10 April 2007 17:23 BST (GMT+1)

The growth of shopping by home delivery is a part of all our lives. Even for me, a superhumanly powerful goddess of unrivalled beauty.

A typical case-in-point being my new gloves. (You will recall my last pair got soiled by the sweat of a thug I was twirling over my head.) In order to successfully complete my “Glove Challenge” and beat up an entire vicious street gang without dirtying my hand-wear, I first needed to procure a fresh pair of pure white gloves.

Once that would have meant a trip to the shops. OK, I would have flown there under my own, incalculable power. And of course, I’m far too superior to actually carry money around with me, so I would have used superpowers to take the gloves rather than pay for them, but it still would have involved me going to the shop.

This time, however, I decided to opt for the convenience of home delivery. Sitting on the roof of my home, I stared down on the main road that runs past the end of my gardens, using both my X-ray vision and superspeed to scan the contents of every passing vehicle. Sure enough, within twenty minutes, a lorry sped by with a cargo of new fashionable clothing, including a big box full of white silk gloves.

I took off, flying too fast to be seen. I tore through the thin metal of the cargo container, my body punching a hole through it like yours would through tissue paper. Once inside, I knocked aside a bunch of boxes with a sweep of my arm, grabbed the one containing the gloves and flew back out of the lorry. All-in-all, I was back on the roof less than two seconds after leaving (because I took my time on the return journey, not wanting to destroy the carton I was carrying or harm its contents).

Now, not only do I have a brand new, pristine pair of spotless, brilliantly pure white gloves, but I also have dozens of spares in case I get dirt on them. Or tears. Or blood.

All I need to find now is another gang to beat up.

Wednesday 11 April 2007 16:58 BST (GMT+1)

OK, so my “Glove Challenge number 3” (Beat up the most vicious street-gang I could find without getting even so much as a speck of dust my gloves) was still unfulfilled.

I’d managed (no, wait. “managed” is the wrong word. A perfect, unopposable, invincible being like me does not “manage” to achieve something. Let’s use “effortlessly succeeded” instead. Much better…) So, I’d effortlessly succeeded in destroying what my research had revealed was one of the most violent bunches of thugs on Earth. But not without getting a sweat stain on my glove (not my sweat, obviously. I never sweat, not even when I’m bathing in the fiery fury of the surface of the sun).

In order to complete my self-imposed challenge, I had to start all over again with a new gang. After all, the first group weren’t really in any shape for a rematch seeing as I’d killed most of them and crippled the rest…

Fortunately, I remembered all the other gangs I’d “auditioned” when selecting the first one. Seeing as the crew I’d previously classed as the second most vicious on the planet had now been elevated to first place, I thought it would be nice if I paid them a visit to congratulate them on their promotion.

I chose exactly the same outfit I wore when I went to play with gang number 1. That’s to say, I was wearing a brand new pair of spotless white gloves. And nothing else. Apart from my hands and my forearms up to the elbows, every other square inch of my glorious, flawless, irresistibly desirable, indescribably sexy body was on full display.

Obviously, I didn’t have to be naked. It was just that, being the kind-hearted supergirl that regular readers know me to be, I thought those young men would appreciate something beautiful to look at as I wiped the floor with them. I know, I know: sometimes, I’m simply too considerate...

The gang’s home city is on another continent. At my top speed, I could have flown there in a minute, but not without severely disrupting weather patterns across the planet with my wake. Of course, I didn’t care about the floods and hurricanes I would have caused, but I was worried about air-friction damaging my gloves, so I kept my velocity way down to no more than five times commercial airliner speed.

In the end, it took me the best part of an hour to get there. As you can appreciate, by the time I finally arrived, I was eager to make up for lost time.

But all that can wait for my next post…

Thursday 12 April 2007 18:02 BST (GMT+1)

The gang’s HQ was in an old abandoned bus garage.

It was nothing more than a huge, square, empty building with concrete walls into which had been set a number of tall panelled windows, each about four feet wide, starting about ten foot from the ground and rising a further ten foot so that the top of the panes was about three foot below the roof. Most of these windows had long since been smashed and only a few were still intact, their glass filthy and cracked.

The entrance for gang-members was a kicked-in doorway in the side of the building. As I approached from the air, my X-ray vision coupled with my ability to see in the dark allowed me to spot a pair of pistol-clutching hoods hiding in the shadows just inside the doorframe. The other thugs present were in a loose group in the centre of the huge open building, arranged in small clumps around a fire burning in an oil-drum.

One of the many advantages of arriving by air is that I get to choose my entrance. For a moment, I considered just walking in through the door to be greeted by the pair on duty there. Then I changed my mind. Those huge windows were just too inviting…

With my hands clasped behind my back, I swooped down, flying head-first through the middle of one of the intact panes, causing the glass to smash instantly into thousands of tiny pieces that erupted into the building. The remaining sharp shards that touched my perfect naked body were instantly broken off, without leaving a scratch anywhere on my flawless skin and without causing me the slightest discomfort. By wiggling slightly as I passed through the window, I was able to ensure the hole I made with my skull, shoulders and breasts was large enough to allow my gloves to be safe from the risk of damage.

Fragments of glass and wooden frame were still raining down on the startled gang as I floated down to the ground, landing with my hands still behind me, my feet spread slightly apart and my magnificent large breasts thrust defiantly towards my hosts. The young men had already instinctively started to edge towards each other, drawing out weapons of all different styles and sizes: machetes, lead pipes, chains, axes…

“Hi boys!” I greeted them, enthusiastically. “I just wanted you all to know that I’ve just creamed the only gang on Earth more violent than yours, so.. Congratulations! You’re now number one.” Of course, I couldn’t resist adding the qualifier “For the next minute or so.”

“Who the fuck are you?” asked a huge thug wielding a baseball bat, stepping out of the group towards me. Broken glass from the window crunched under the soles of his running shoes as he lifted his weapon over his shoulder.

“Sorry. I’m not taking questions today.” I replied, flatly. Turning my head slightly to the side, I unleashed a short blast of heat-vision. Twin lasers of pure energy shot from my eyeballs and converged on the bat-wielding thug. I didn’t even give him time to scream. One instant he was a massive psychopath with a big round stick in his hands, the next he was a pile of charcoal flakes on the glass-strewn floor.

The rest of the gang reacted predictably enough with shocked gasps, expletives and plenty of nervous shuffling about and checking of weapons. I looked haughtily over them before inquiring “Anyone else want to ask me something?”

As it turned out, talking was not on the agenda. At that moment, the two sentries from the doorway ran into the enormous main area, pistols out. It took them a moment to notice me, another moment to sharply intake breath as they focussed on the unmatched curves of my glorious naked body, and a third moment to point their guns at me. Even as they aimed, their eyes were still growing wider by the moment, the challenge of taking in all of my beauty too much for their inferior male senses.

“Fucking shoot the bitch!” shouted a squat young man from the middle of the crowd. After a brief hesitation, both gunmen obeyed the instruction.

What happened in the next few moments can wait until my next post.

Friday 13 April 2007 15:34 BST (GMT+1)

The two hoodlums with guns were twenty-five yards away from me when they finally fired their weapons.

With my superspeed abilities, a bullet can seem to take an aeon to travel that sort of distance. I could have picked up every single person in that room one-by-one and carried them individually outside, piling them up in a heap two streets away and still have had enough time to get to my starting position well in advance of the slowly approaching slugs.

Or, in the same time-frame, I could have ran up to the bullets, grabbed them from the air just an inch from the barrels of the guns that fired them, torn them with my fingers into pieces and gone around the place, manually inserting one piece into each gang-member...

Instead, I did nothing. One of the shots missed me altogether, flying about four inches to the left of my ear. The other did, at least, strike me. In fact it made a rather impressive spark as it pinged against my naked right shoulder. Neither the spark, nor the bullet itself managed to leave even the tiniest mark on my perfect skin. The slug just wadded up again my beautiful, invulnerable flesh and then, its special shape no longer recognizable, its momentum completely exhausted, it surrendered and bounced away from me to fall, uselessly, on the concrete ground about three yards to the side of my foot.

I guess the two shooters were too far away to have seen the spark. They must have assumed that they’d both missed, even though that was only half true. Anyway, they both decided to fire again, without making any effort to get closer to me.

This time, I did take action. I took a standing leap, slightly bending my knees and springing off my feet. My dainty toes cracked the stone as they pushed down for a moment. Then I was airborne. I didn’t even need to use my flight powers; the strength of my jump was enough to carry me over head-height, across the room. Two bullets passed harmlessly beneath the soles of my feet as I was in mid-leap and then I landed, with perfect balance and only the tiniest movement of my knees to absorb the impact, about three yards in front of the gun-happy duo.

I heard the gasps of “What the fuck?” and “How the hell?” from the bulk of the gang behind me, but that was nothing compared to the total shock on the faces of the two shooters. They threw a quick, terrified glance at one another before looking back at me. I could see the two pairs of eyes flickering, being drawn to my unsurpassable body. The heartbeats quickened as they both realised how close that perfect, desirable body now was. I’d terrified them with my huge jump, but even in that state, they were unable to resist my beauty.

For a few moments, it was as though my glorious, rounded chest was a magnet, drawing their gaze, drawing their thoughts, drawing their focus. I could tell that my feminine curves were beginning to take over their thoughts entirely. If either or both of them had started to drool, I would not have been surprised.

“Kill her!” screamed someone behind me. The pair in front finally managed to scrape together enough brain cells to react. Their staring eyes did not flicker from my big, proud breasts as they squeezed their triggers. I can only imagine they were both thinking “We can’t miss from point-blank range!”

As it happened, neither of them missed. They were focussing far too well on their target to miss over three yards. The bullets followed the exact paths of the two men’s intense gazes, each ploughing into one of my large, round breasts close to the centre, each trying to pierce my invulnerable skin and bury itself deep within my superhumanly erotic feminine flesh. And each failing completely, of course, the full-frontal impacts not even powerful enough to momentarily dent the perfect shape of either mound. My breasts simply refused to yield in any way, so the bullets had no choice but to remould themselves according to my spectacular curves. A few instants later, two lumps of squashed metal fell, in total defeat, to the floor.

I didn’t even blink as the two shots bounced away from my beautiful, unmarked chest. But I did start to walk towards the two shooters, keeping my hands behind my back to protect my gloves...

Continued in my next post.

Tuesday 17 April 2007 17:13 BST (GMT+1)

So, where did I leave off last time? Ah, yes. In that huge abandoned room. With the bulk of the gang massed behind me. And, in front of me, two young men…

They’d both just shot me, from five yards, right in my large, naked, superhumanly prominent and gloriously erotic chest. Of course their bullets bounced right off my perfect, sexy, invulnerable breasts. But, being males and therefore particularly stubborn and stupid, they decided to try again. By then I was walking towards them, my hands clasped behind my back to protect the gloves I was wearing (the only “part” of me vulnerable to things like bullets).

Leaving my big round mounds so open to being shot again obviously did not concern me. The only thing I risked was maybe getting a little bit turned on by a slug or two caressing my feminine flesh. In fact, as the eyes of the two gunmen were locked on my bust, there was little danger of any of their bullets striking any other area of my body. I made sure my breasts retained their unbreakable hold on the male’s attention by letting them bob and sway as I approached.

After one-and-a-half steps they fired off another round each, the two metal pellets crumpling up an instant later against my unmatched curves before pinging away, squashed out of shape, to the ground. I smiled at the providers, but they were far too intently focussed on the impact sites to notice my face.

I was only about three yards away now. I slowed my walk, merely to give the two men enough time to fire off shot after shot at my breasts. One after another their bullets struck me, the light taps on my womanly mounds providing brief, tiny jolts of pleasure while the slugs themselves compressed futilely against my flawless skin and bounced off leaving not a trace on me.

It couldn’t last, of course. In the end, I got too close. A shot from the gunman on my right hit my big nipple tip-to-tip, dead-centre. It rebounded from my harder-than-diamond nub almost as fast as it had arrived. Well, fast enough to bury itself deep in the torso of the man who’d fired it in the first place.

As he collapsed to the floor, the other shooter fell victim to a ricochet from the top portion of my right areola, his bullet deflecting slightly upwards as it bounced from me, hitting him in the face and penetrating his head. He dropped his gun as he fell beside his colleague.

With the two doormen no longer in a position to provide me with any entertainment, I turned on my heels to face the rest of the gang. There were further gasps of stunned amazement as they saw my perfect front perfectly untouched despite the various short-range direct shots it had withstood. I couldn’t resist chuckling as I overheard the muttered comment “Fucking hell, the bitch is bullet-proof!”

The young man who made the remark was standing in the middle of the crowd. With other gang-members clustered in front of him, his body and legs were blocked from me. Nevertheless, I had a clear line-of-sight to his head, so I made sure I totally vaporised it with a quick, sharp blast of heat-vision. Headless, he seemed to stay standing for a second whilst everyone around him recoiled in shock and horror. Eventually, what was left of him toppled over.

“Not a good idea, calling me ‘bitch’,” I pointed out to the increasingly panicky mob.

All eyes were fixed on me. Most seemed to be nervously waiting for my next words or my next move. A few, though, had another idea. Even though I was standing directly between the massed gang and the only doorway (the bottom of the windows were ten feet from the ground, remember?) four thugs on the left flank of the crowd thought they could make a break for it.

I can only guess that the men naively believed they could reach the doorway by running a curved path around me. I moved at superspeed, too fast for any mere man to follow, and stationed myself right in the path of the fastest sprinter. I kept my hands behind my back and thrust out my big, superfirm breasts. The male didn’t even notice me as he ran, head-down, at full pelt.

He hit my chest with the top of his skull. For him the impact would have felt only marginally less solid than hitting a brick wall. For me, it was a barely noticeable tickle. He staggered backwards, dazed, as he lost consciousness and tripped two of the men running behind him. The trio tangled helplessly in each other’s limbs.

As they tumbled forwards, I pursed my luscious lips and gently blew a little stream of ultra-cold superbreath over them, freezing them, mid-fall, by solidifying every molecule in all three bodies to the core. It’s moments like those that make me feel so powerful. I mean, it took less than a second to cool them to almost absolute zero, just by blowing on them!

They made a rather unusual statue, albeit one that was destined to defrost in a day or so. Sadly, there wasn’t much time to admire the art form, because the fourth would-be escapee was about to slip past me. Naturally, his top speed was like ultra-slow-motion to me. I side-stepped around the frozen trio into the runner’s path. Timing my movements with my customary superhuman precision, I twisted my upper torso hard to the right to swing my chest into the face of the sprinter.

My large breasts were like wrecking-balls, only slightly smaller, thousands of times more powerful and infinitely more beautiful. I caught my target on the cheek with the outside of my right mound, my perfect flesh knocking his head sharply to the side, snapping his neck instantly. The blow was more powerful than just that, however. The momentum of my easily swinging breast sent the gang-member’s entire body flying to the side, lifting it off its feet and tossing it ten yards through the air until it crashed back down, horrendously twisted, onto the hard floor, where it slid for another couple of yards before finally coming to rest.

With a satisfied “Hmmm,” I turned from the corpse back towards the rest of the mob.

“Anybody else want to leave early?” I asked.

Apparently, no-one else did. Instead, they shuffled backwards en-masse, away from me, further into the huge room. With a big smile on my face and my hands still behind me, I started to walk towards them.

Continued in my next post!

Wednesday 18 April 2007 17:28 BST (GMT+1)

The gang were backing away from me, and I was advancing on them, striding confidently, my magnificent naked body on full display.

I was hugely tempted to wade right into them, but I knew that even if it would have been fun, the chances of my pristine white gloves surviving such an assault unmarked were slim to none. There were too many dirty knives, chains and crowbars in the crowd, wielded by sweaty men full of gallons of sticky blood and guts…

If I went into the centre of the mob with my hands clasped behind my back, I would be surrounded and my gloves would be vulnerable. So, I had to keep all the men in front of me where I could make sure they couldn’t reach behind me. Whilst they were all shuffling backwards, this was no problem.

Of course, the gap between me and the gang was shrinking because I was strolling forwards quicker than they were moving backwards. I cast my gaze in a suitably superior manner over the front row of the crowd. There was the usual selection of frightened male faces for my amusement, and an interesting collection of weapons clutched in nervous hands.

One of those weapons, a thick, long, heavy chain wielded by an ugly, squat young man slightly to my right, flashed towards me. I can’t say it flashed without warning, because ordinary people function so slowly compared with me that even the most spontaneous, “surprise” movement gives me plenty of time to spot and react, but I think the thug’s intention was to catch me unawares. Naturally, he failed.

I merely moved my head a little to the side and opened my sexy mouth so I could catch the whipping end of the chain between my flawless, superhuman jaws. Once my perfect straight white teeth closed on the steel links, there was no force on Earth that could have pulled it out. My jaws are simply too strong.

I winked at the man trying with all his might to yank his chain out of my mouth. His big muscles bulged, his knuckles went white and sweat beaded on his face. Holding his end of the chain in two huge hairy hands, he leant back, using all his considerable bulk as leverage. But even if he’d tied his end to a locomotive, he would still have met with the same utter lack of success…

After I’d given him a few moments to struggle in vain, I decided to show him another trick I can do. Biting down on the chain, my teeth sliced through the solid steel like it was ice-cream. Then I chewed, reducing the end of the metal to tiny pieces which I effortlessly swallowed. Only my lovely, thick lips were gripping the chain now, but that made no difference to the gang-member’s ability to pull it away from me. He simply could not overpower my hold.

Bored of his game, I started to suck, pulling the next few links easily into my mouth. The thug swore as his end of the chain was violently ripped from his grasp, tearing off some of his skin. I hadn’t even noticed the resistance as I sucked, to be honest, but I’d yanked the thing from his hands despite all his efforts. Casually, I chewed up the length I’d pulled into my mouth and swallowed. Then I sucked up some more, working faster and faster, devouring the entire six-foot long, solid steel chain like a length of spaghetti. Within ten seconds, I consumed the whole thing, licking my lips and showing off my empty mouth when I was done.

It might not have tasted very pleasant, but I knew I’d have no trouble digesting the metal. My superhuman metabolism can cope with anything. And I do mean anything. My body just absorbs whatever energy there is to be extracted and the rest simply disappears. No indigestion for me! (In fact, I didn’t even belch.)

My little display had an immediate effect on my audience. Amidst gasps of amazement, they increased the speed with which they were backing away. Quite a few of them were trembling. The former owner of the chain was bent over, clutching his profusely bleeding hands, tears of pain in his eyes. I studied his wounds, and realised that they were quite serious.

A large amount of skin had been ripped from his palms and sticky crimson liquid was pouting out. There was a real danger that some of it might end up on my gloves. I had to act quickly before a disaster occurred and my lovely clean white gloves got stained. A quick blast of heat vision vaporised the wounded hands (oh, and also the arms, body, head, legs, feet and clothes) of the bleeding man, before any harm could be done.

Seeing that swift, superhuman dispatch of one of his colleagues pushed another gang-member over the edge of fear into unthinking panic. He broke free of the rest of the mob, lunging for my stomach with the long curved blade of his knife. “Enough of this!” he cried as he tried to stab me.

The point of his blade touched my smooth, flat stomach. My skin didn’t even dimple, however. I felt next-to-nothing as the knife, pushed by its owner, tried so hard to pierce my perfect skin. Inevitably, the blade bent and snapped. I smiled indulgently down on him as he stared in disbelief at his broken weapon.

“Wrong!” I said, cheerily. “It’s not enough yet.” Barely had I finished then I let the familiar twin lasers shoot from my eyeballs and converge on the broken-knifeman’s body. Less than a second later, he was nothing but a neat little pile of ash on the floor.

A couple of thugs in the crowd threw their weapons down at my feet in response to that. Several of them raised their hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. One started to cry. All of them continued to shuffle backwards away from me.

Read my next post to see what happened after that…

Thursday 19 April 2007 22:27 BST (GMT+1)

The gang must've been looking for someplace spacious when they chose their hangout.

The main hall of that abandoned bus-garage was huge. The bulk of the mob had been more-or-less in the centre of the room when I first confronted them. Since that moment, they'd backed off considerably trying to maintain some distance between themselves and me as I advanced towards them. But despite their retreating, there was still a space of nearly twenty yards between the back of the group and the far wall.

Twenty yards, however, was not enough room for comfort, apparently. Whilst all the young men at the front of the mob seemed completely unable to move their gazes away from my amazing (naked) chest, those at the back with a more restricted view of my incomparably sexy beauty had started stealing glances behind themselves as they shuffled back. The realisation that they were running out of retreating-space was making them increasingly nervous.

I wonder if any of them were thinking about the absurdity of the situation. They were a gang of two dozen "strong" young men, supposedly in their physical primes, well used to fighting. Every one of them was a vicious bully, many were cold-blooded murders. Yet they were retreating, terrified, from a single, unarmed, naked girl. I'll bet none of them would ever have imagined a scenario where that could happen. Then again, no-one could ever imagine something or someone as gorgeous, desirable, strong, invulnerable and fabulously powerful as me. I'm much sexier and much, much more mighty than any fantasy...

The pressure the gang was under started to tell. Two of the gang were crying. Almost all the others were trembling to some degree. Those at the back were throwing more and more frequent glances at the ever-nearing wall behind. Out-of-the-blue, one of them suddenly threw his arms up over his head and shouted "OK! OK! We surrender!" Immediately, three others followed suit, raising their hands too.

Evidently, that quartet did not speak for the entire group. The word "surrender" especially seemed to provoke a strong reaction.

"No! Never!" another gang-member yelled.

"We fight 'till we die!" agreed another, although the hoarseness and wavering of his raised voice betrayed his obvious fear.

I grinned in response the defiant claim. "Suits me!" I said, happily.

That was clearly more than enough for the anti-surrender portion of the crowd.

"Kill her!" one of them screamed.

The mob seemed to split in two. Roughly half of them remained where they were. These included the four who had put up their hands. The rest of the non-movers immediately lifted their arms too, terrified that it might not be absolutely clear that they no longer wished to adopt a confrontational stance.

The other half of the men, however, took a very different course of action. An almost-impressive war-cry rose from their throats. With eyes wild, they charged at me. A dozen big males. With murder on their minds. And me, a single little girl. With no clothes on. It was obviously a very serious predicament. Very, very serious. I mean: my gloves were in imminent danger of becoming dirty.

Find out how I saved my gloves in my next post.

Friday 20 April 2007 17:44 BST (GMT+1)

I stood there, completely naked except for my gloves with my hands behind my back and watched as a dozen killers roared towards me.

Twelve men, all coming for me at once. What was a girl to do?

The answer was simple. I puckered up, sexily extended my thick red lips, and blew them all a kiss. My superhuman lungs forced air through my mouth with enough force to produce a hurricane-like roar. And that was not all that was hurricane-like. My gentle exhalation, such an effortless act on my part, translated into a wind that began like a hurricane-blast and quickly grew in strength to something vastly more powerful.

Slowly, I turned my head slightly from one side to the other, making sure that the whole mob got hit by the gale-force air stream. Of course, blowing indiscriminately at the males like that meant those who had decided to surrender were no better off than those charging at me. My breath hit all of them like a warm wall of air, tossing them backwards as if they’d been struck by a series of juggernauts.

One by one, the men were lifted off their feet and thrown violently backwards by the sheer power of my casual exhalation. They yelled and screamed in shock, but they were as helpless as little dry leaves in a cyclone as they were picked up and sent flying. Those most directly hit by the jet of my lovely breath flew fastest. They hit the back wall, twenty yards behind where they had just been standing, before the others. And they hit it hard.

The force of my blowing kept them pinned to the wall, well above floor-level, some horizontal to the ground, some diagonal, some upside-down. Meanwhile, more males were slamming into the wall. Some of the new arrivals smashed into those already there. Above the roar of my superbreath, I could hear the crunching of bone as big masculine bodies smacked into concrete and each other.

In less than a second, I’d blown every last one hard into the wall. There were all suspended above the ground, held against the concrete by my extraordinary lung-power. I could have kept them all up there like that all night if I’d wanted. I mean, it wasn’t as if I was straining in any way…

Eventually, however, I did stop blowing and let my luscious lips stretch out into a big, proud grin. The roar subsided immediately. I watched as twenty-five men simultaneously slid down to land in one big, non-moving heap on the ground. The wall they had hit was splattered with streaks of blood.

Using my superhearing, I counted four heartbeats coming from the pile of twenty-five male bodies. Those belonged to the four lucky thugs who’d hadn’t slammed directly into the wall; those whose impacts had been softened by their less fortunate colleagues. Unconscious, with dozens of broken bones each, I knew they wouldn’t be troubling me any more.

Chuckling, I rose smoothly into the air, and flew out of the bus-garage through the window I’d smashed on entering. As I soared up past the clouds, I drew my hands closer to my face to examine my white gloves. They were spotless.

I had successfully completed “Glove Challenge number 3”.

Monday 23 April 2007 16:35 BST (GMT+1)

I was enjoying my garden the other evening, just relaxing as I lay on the grass.

Spotting a passing airliner, travelling overhead at a height of about thirty thousand feet, I used my superhuman eyesight to peer inside the cabin and read through some of the documents in the passengers’ hand-luggage whilst listening to an amusing conversation between a middle-aged man in First Class and a young hostess. He was trying to get her telephone number without sounding desperate, while she was trying to tell him to get lost without sounding rude.

Irritatingly, someone down the road started to play extremely loud rock music on their stereo, almost blocking out the sound of the conversation I was following. I carefully tuned out the sound of the music and was able to continue listening to the couple on the aircraft for another minute or so until they were too far away even for my ultra-sensitive ears. The last thing I heard was the stewardess telling the passenger that she wasn’t allowed to give out her number and that, anyway, her telephone was broken and couldn’t be repaired for several months...

Once the aeroplane was out of earshot, there was only the noise coming from down the street to disturb the peaceful evening. I looked around, gazing through brick, concrete and wood as I spotted the source of the music. It was coming from the back room of a house about two hundred yards away. Using my superspeed, I could have run to the house, climbed in through an open window, crushed the offending stereo to dust between my palms and run back again to my garden within a few seconds. Instead, I decided on a more amusing solution.

There’s plenty of trees in my garden, so I decided I could spare one. I chose a tall oak, about twenty foot high and two foot in diameter. I don’t own an axe, so I karate-chopped the base of the trunk with my left arm. Of course, my slim, silky feminine limb proved far, far more effective than any man-made steel axe. My hand, wrist and forearm sliced clean through the solid base of the tree with ridiculous ease. The tree would have toppled, but I was too quick, grabbing it with both hands, effortlessly supporting all its weight as I let the massive trunk rest against my big, round, superfirm breasts.

For a few seconds, I stood still, holding the whole tree (minus its roots) in my hands, letting it tower above me, not really noticing the weight of it. I turned on the spot until I was facing the house from which the music was blaring. Then, with a nice, comfortable movement of my arms, I tossed the oversized twig into the sky. My intention was to let the tree rise high over the street before plunging down onto the roof of the building. Of course, as ever, my aim was perfect.

The tree climbed steeply to a height of about three hundred feet before slowing and eventually falling. It hit the tiles of my target-house dead-centre with an almighty Crash!, smashing through the roof so hard and fast it brought the upper floors of the building down, causing the entire house to collapse into a pile of bricks and furniture. People came running out of the neighbouring properties in panic. I ignored them as I settled back down on the grass once again, satisfied that I’d silenced the unasked-for music.

Tuesday 24 April 2007 16:31 BST (GMT+1)

Because of the collapsed house down the road, my street has been busy all day with police and construction vehicles.

The situation was made a lot more complicated by a lorry that tipped over onto its side and finished up half on top of the former-house-now-pile-of-rubble. According to the police, the twelve-wheeler “must’ve been going too fast when the driver lost control. Presumably, he then panicked as one side of the vehicle lifted from the ground and steered off the road, eventually crashing into the work-site.”

Here’s what really happened:

I was walking along the pavement near the entrance to my driveway when the big truck came rumbling towards me in the opposite direction. Now, I know that I am the most beautiful woman on Earth. I know that when I wear a tight T-shirt, the shape of my big, firm breasts seems to be more than many males can cope with. That is their problem, not mine.

I didn’t give the lorry driver permission to honk his air horn at me, or to slow down so he could leer at me with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. I don’t know what he was planning to say as he wound down his side window, because I didn’t give him the chance to say it, but I can imagine what it might have been.

While he was fiddling with the handle to open his window, I continued to walk, steering myself nearer the road, but still facing along the pavement. As soon as the side of the truck was close enough, I gave it a shove with my left shoulder. Nothing hard. Just a gentle little shove.

My smooth round shoulder made a loud “Clank!” but I barely felt the impact. The lorry, however, immediately tipped away from me. The driver screamed and threw his steering wheel, trying to regain the vehicle’s balance. I giggled at his panic. As the back of the tilted, turning truck passed me, I reached out and flicked it with my right hand middle finger. Clang! The lorry shot away from me, careering off the road into the ruins of the destroyed house where it finally tipped onto its side with an almighty rumbling crash.

By then, I’d already disappeared from sight into my driveway, my hand covering my mouth as I laughed and laughed.

Wednesday 25 April 2007 17:49 BST (GMT+1)

I’m so amazingly powerful, I even impress myself from time to time.

Like last night. I was entertaining myself playing with my heat vision, using it to warm small areas of the surface of my skin till it glowed brilliant white. I don’t know exactly how hot I made myself (they don’t make thermometers for that kind of thing) but I’d guess my perfect flesh peaked at a few tens of thousands of degrees centigrade.

Not that I managed to burn myself, of course. Not even the heart of a star is hot enough to do that. Sure, it felt warm when I zapped myself, but not uncomfortable. In fact, it was quite a pleasant sensation, especially when I warmed my nipples to something like four times as hot as the surface of the sun…

The twin points of my breasts, although already large to begin with, swelled and hardened as I blasted each one in turn. When I cut of the lasers from my eyes, the nipple I had just heated continued to glow white for a minute or so. I found I could melt, and even boil, solid metal merely by bringing my incandescent nipple within range. Other materials burst into flame when they got close.

That was fun. As I joked to myself at the time, “I always knew I was hot…” But there was something else I didn’t know. I discovered it more-or-less accidentally, when I was experimenting further with my heat vision.

You see, although my superstrength, invulnerability, supersenses and superbreath developed during my early adolescence and I’ve had years to learn how to use them in millions of different ways, I only recently gained the power of heat-vision.

[Long-time readers will recall how I first found I had lasers in my eyes (along with the abilities to see through solid objects and to fly) when I was unexpectedly taken out of Earth’s atmosphere and became exposed to unfiltered solar radiation.]

So, I’ve not had so long to work out all the things I can do with those beams of pure heat that I shoot at will from my pupils. Certainly, I hadn’t realised the full extent of the control I have over the power. I knew I could regulate the temperature of the lasers. I’ve generated temperatures, according to my desire at the time, from just warm enough to melt an ice-cube to more than hot enough to vaporise a massive solid block of steel. But I did not know I had such precise command over the precise area being heated.

With a little practise, I found that I can limit the effects of my lasers to warm an area as small as a half a square millimetre or broaden them to heat up a sphere of material five yards in diameter. Naturally, I can select any size of target area between these two extremes. And I can precisely control the temperature that the chosen zone gets zapped with…

Additionally, my heat-vision seems to work at just about any distance. Sitting on my roof at home, I can affect an area right in front of my face or burn my name in letters one-inch high into the surface of the moon. And that’s the amazing bit. You see, as I “autographed” the lunar rock, my twin lasers passed through thick clouds and the rest of the atmosphere without warming them at all. The clouds did not turn to steam. At one point, a large crow flew across the beam. The lines of red light seemed to pass right through the passing bird. The far end of the laser was still melting a tiny bit of the moon, but the crow was unaffected.

That got me thinking. Could I really fire my eye-beams through one object onto a second without causing the first object to be heated or damaged? I decided to use my own house for an experiment. The target was a large stainless steel saucepan in one of the cupboards in the kitchen. I don’t need food, so I rarely use the room, let alone the equipment in it that I “inherited” from the (now of course deceased… tee hee…) former owner.

Standing in the breakfast room on the other side of the kitchen wall, I used my X-ray vision to locate the saucepan inside the cupboard. Then, carefully, I fired a low-powered beam of heat-vision at it, making sure that I focussed the heat on the pan and not the intervening wall or the cupboard door. Pretty quickly, a small red, glowing circle appeared on the side of the saucepan.

I blinked, immediately cutting off the lasers. The red circle faded as the steel immediately started to cool. I examined the wall in front of me for signs of burn damage and found not a trace. It wasn’t even warm to the touch. Entering the kitchen, I studied the cupboard door and found that it was also completely undamaged, front and back. But inside, the saucepan, whilst no longer glowing, was still hot.

I grinned as I started to consider the various ways I could put this new discovery to use. Obviously, further experimentation is necessary, so I’m just off to find some suitable test subjects...

Thursday 26 April 2007 17:35 BST (GMT+1)

So, I set off for a walk yesterday evening with the intention of experimenting a little more with my heat-vision.

Which was unlucky for the dog that someone had tied to the railings up the road. The thing barked at me as I approached. Suddenly feeling inspired, I grinned and very carefully aimed a blast of eye-power at the centre of its skull. I only used my lasers for about half a second, but that was more than enough.

With a level of precision that is beyond most ordinary people’s ability to comprehend, I fried a one-inch diameter area at the middle of the animal’s brain. The suddenly dead dog immediately collapsed, never to bark at me again. I was delighted to see not a trace of any burning on its head, or even, when I used my X-ray vision, anywhere on the exterior of its brain. No-one will ever know what happened to that animal (unless, by some freak chance, they slice up the contents of its skull).

Pleased with myself, I strolled on. My imagination was running wild, thinking up more and more amusing things I could try with my heat-vision. As I turned the corner on to the high street, I suddenly realised that I was using my X-ray vision on every passer-by, not looking at their outward appearances, but rather examining the interiors of their bodies for potential eye-laser targets.

There’s a saying that goes something like “If you give a man a hammer, he thinks everything is a nail.” I suppose I was a little guilty of thinking of every walking bag of organs (or “person” as they’re sometimes called) as nothing more than a target for my heat-vision. Then again, every single one of them is a potential target. I mean: it’s not like they could stop me. And I had so many ideas to try out on them…

I found myself chuckling with delight at my untouchable power. Spotting a bar on the other side of the road, I examined the clientele from across the street with my goddess-like, beautiful, all-seeing, all-frying eyes. I grinned as my superhuman gaze fell upon a group of three fit young males standing at the bar. They seemed like ideal experimentation material. All I had to do was to get them somewhere less public.

Of course, luring three young men out of a bar is no challenge for a girl as physically perfect as me. Every pair of eyes in that place locked on me as I walked through the door. I barely had to blink at the trio to capture their complete attention. The first time I leant forward slightly, my tight, low-cut T-shirt leaving a vast expanse of flawless, erotic cleavage on display, I knew they were mine. After that moment, the three men’s stares barely left my chest for the rest of the evening.

I led them, with a long, seductive look, into an abandoned parking garage. As soon as we were out of sight of the road, I roughly shoved them each of them in turn up against the concrete wall, temporarily knocking the wind out of them. Whilst they gasped for air, I moved at superspeed, using a single hand to casually rip a length of metal piping from the wall.

I would have been just a blur to the three men as I effortlessly remoulded the metal in my petite hands. I slowed down considerably as I captured each male’s wrists and wrapped the pipe around them, not wanting to rip off their limbs entirely. Still, I was too quick for them to evade. Inside two seconds, I was done. All six wrists were bound to the pipe. Reaching up, I jammed the two ends of the metal tubing deep into the concrete wall so that the men were trapped, standing against the wall, “tied” to the piping, with their arms raised high above their heads.

Of course once they worked out what I’d done, they tried to get free. They pulled with all their might, hung with all their weight, kicked with all their fury. But they could not loosen the pipe around their wrists or pull it out of the wall. They were stuck, helpless. Completely at my mercy.

I took a step back away from them, placing my hands dominantly on my hips and smiled at the pathetic, struggling males. My mind was racing: which of my planned experiments should I try first?

Find out the answer in my next post.

Monday 30 April 2007 19:21 BST (GMT+1)

“Let us down!” shouted one of the three men I’d hung by their wrists from that pipe on the wall.

“Let me go!” yelled another.

“Do you know who I am?” asked the one on the right of the threesome, aggressively. With a smile, my hands still comfortably resting on my shapely hips, I turned to him.

“Yeah,” I answered. “You’re an inferior being who’s completely at my mercy. Now shut up!”

“I will not shut up!” he shouted back, even angrier than before. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with here! I have friends in some pr-“

At that moment, I decided the time was right for a little heat-vision experimentation. Narrowing my beautiful clear eyes at him, I let the familiar beams of energy shoot from my pupils. I aimed the blast so that the twin lasers converged deep inside his neck, concentrating the heating effects on the centre of his vocal chords. A split second later, I’d permanently robbed him of the ability to speak. Without leaving even the slightest redness on his skin.

He tried to scream but nothing more than a trickle of thick blood emerged from his mouth. His eyes opened wide in terror and he thrashed about, fighting with renewed desperation to break free of the metal bounds I’d wrapped around his wrists. Of course, his efforts were wasted.

His sudden silence, not to mention the preceding beams that had emerged from my pupils and the blood that dripped from his lips, did not escape the notice of the two other men I’d captured.

“W… What did you do to him?” one of them demanded in a tone that came across as semi-accusatory and semi-terrified.

I chuckled. “The same thing I’m about to do to you if you don’t keep quiet,” I replied.

Unsurprisingly, there was no response to that. Not one of the trio said a word. Although, of course, one of them couldn’t even if he’d wanted…

“That’s better,” I commented. I let my command of the situation sink in for a few moments before I pretended to be absent-mindedly speaking my internal thoughts out-loud as I mused “Hmmm… I wonder which bit of which one I’ll zap next?...”

My words had a profound effect. All three renewed their futile struggles against their constraints, straining, kicking, pulling. All without the slightest success. They couldn’t shift the metal pipe even the few millimetres they needed to be able to pull their wrists free. Recalling how I’d bent and twisted the same length of tubing with total ease a few moments before, I rolled my eyes at their pathetic efforts.

“You really want to break free, don’t you boys?” I teased. “I suppose I could just let you go…” I paused for a second to watch the three male faces register the glimmer of hope I’d presented, before dashing it “…but where would the fun be in that?”

“Please!” yelled the one to the left of the trio. “Please! Let us go!”

I laughed. “What… just like that? Hmmm..." I acted as though I was genuinely considering the request before announcing my decision.


The disappointment and fear on each of the three faces in front of me was comical.

“What do you want? Money? I've got cash!” shouted the man in the middle. The one on the right started making frantic gestures with his head. I realised he was trying to show me the pocket in which his wallet was located. It was the best he could do without vocal chords.

“I can get to the bank…” offered the leftmost male.

“I’ll give you a thousand in cash!” yelled the middle.

“Two thousand!” said the left

The right continued his desperate direction-of-wallet nodding.

“Boys, boys!” I tutted, shaking my head. “You’re really not in the right ball park. Your freedom would. cost a lot more than that!”

“Five thousand!” cried the middle.

“Five thousand plus my car!” said the left.

I sighed, theatrically, making all three men’s hearts beat faster as my magnificent chest rose and fell inside the confines of my tight, low-cut top.

“You’re not understanding me here,” I told them. “When I said it would cost you a lot, I meant a lot.”

“How much?” asked the one on the left, his eyes not moving from my upper torso.

I grinned at him. “An arm and a leg.” I answered. My pupils were already glowing with heat-energy.

It was a delicate operation, but I wanted to really test my abilities. I aimed for his leg, just below the hip. I had to be careful because I didn’t want to damage the thin material of his trousers. By slowing increasing the area affected by my lasers, I was able to burn away a section of leg from the inside outwards.

I had to pause the procedure when the male’s screams of agony became really loud. For an instant, I re-directed the beams at his vocal chords. As I’d already perfected that trick on his friend, I was able to mute him instantly and get back to work on his leg with the minimum of fuss.

The air filled with the smell of barbecuing meat. The helpless creature's eyes rolled upwards. His noiseless attempts at screaming continued unabated. As I continued to vaporise his flesh and bone, black smoke began to seep through the still-fully-intact fibres of his jeans. For a moment. I thought that I’d accidentally burnt the inside of his trousers, but a quick check with my X-ray vision showed that wasn’t the case. So I kept going, using the power of my heat vision to finish the amputation.

When I was done, I blinked the lasers away and watched as a perfectly severed leg dropped from the suddenly empty leg of the man’s jeans. He threw his head back, silently screaming, whilst I re-confirmed that there wasn’t a mark anywhere on his trousers, inside or out. There was no blood as the heat I used to cut him up had sealed his wounds as it created them.

I couldn’t help smiling with satisfaction at my success. The leftmost male glanced down in agonised horror at his freshly-severed limb and then passed out.

"Well, that's just a leg!" I observed with a nod at the amputation, "The price we agreed on was a leg and an arm. So no freedom for any of you."

I'll conclude this delightful little tale in my next post.