Ms. Marvelous struggled like a wildcat against the coils of flesh entrapping her. Her freakish opponent had his hold locked in tight—His rubbery arms were wrapped around hers. His pliable legs were looped about her calves and thighs. His torso pressed tightly against her back. Despite the athletic heroine’s frantic struggles, the mutant criminal known as Stretch Ply remained firmly affixed to her slender body.
The powerful blonde bucked madly, jerking this way and that, trying desperately to free herself of this bizarre foe. She used her flying power to lift them both off the ground. She slammed back first into the side of a nearby building, forcing Stretch to absorb the impact with his body. She repeated the maneuver a second time, then a third. The brick wall shook with each impact but still her adversary maintained his hold.
“I’ve got you now, Cutie-Pie!” Stretch shouted victoriously. “You can wriggle and shake all you want but I’ll never let you go!”
“Get off of me, you freak!”
“How about I get off on you instead?”
“Bastard!”
The mutant opened his mouth and allowed his long, slender, tongue to slip out. The slimy piece of flesh extended to an impossible length and wrapped around the floundering heroine’s exposed neck. He looped it around her throat twice before tightening it across her windpipe.
Ms. Marvelous gagged, as much in disgust as from a lack of oxygen. She dropped back down to the street, landing near the spot from which she had lifted off only moments before. Her powerful body supported the extra weight of her emaciated adversary easily. In terms of strength, her foe could not hope to match her. But the coils of pliable flesh than encircled her arms and legs were resilient—She could flex her limbs and stretch the living bonds that held her, but like an unbreakable rubber band they always bounced back. There seemed to be no way to get free.
The rubbery tongue tightened around her slender throat like a garrote. The feel of its wet, slimy surface against her smooth skin made her want to wretch. But the beautiful fem had greater concerns. Her foes fingers were lengthening, stretching outward and moving toward the more vital and sensitive parts of her body. And to her dismay, there was nothing that she could do to stop them.
Despite the now terrific length of his fingers, Stretch seemed to have no difficulty controlling the movements of his elongated appendages. In fact, his dexterity seemed to be even greater than that of a normal person. His fingers moved across the helpless heroine’s luscious body as if with a mind and purpose of their own, working independently yet cohesively, like the tentacles of an octopus. Two fingers, one from each hand, snaked upward across the heroine’s shoulders and slid into her ears. The sounds of the outside world were muffled as her hearing passages were closed off. Two more pairs of fingers skimmed across her stomach and chest and began to gently tease her nipples through the thin fabric of her skintight, red and black costume. Fingers seven and eight slid downward toward her crotch and worked as a team to pull the shear material of her bikini bottom to one side of her pink womanhood. Another finger joined them, sliding through her gap and across her sensitive nether lips. Ms. Marvelous gasped as the finger burrowed into her slit and searched for her hidden clit.
“You villain! Stop this immediately or I will--”
The young blonde’s threat was cut short as finger number ten dove into her mouth and wrapped itself across her tongue. It forced its way down her throat, initiating her gag reflex and blocking her windpipe. The tongue around her neck tightened yet again, further chocking off her access to air. Tears came to the heroine’s eyes as she struggled to breathe. Her face turned red. She frantically labored to free her hands so that she could pull the chocking finger and tongue away. Every effort, though, was in vain. The beautiful girl felt herself slipping away.
Ms. Marvelous slumped to her knees. Her mind was spinning. Her vision was fading. She knew that the end was near. Even she could not survive without air. Even she could not—
Suddenly, the hold on her throat was loosened. The finger invading her windpipe pulled back, remaining in her mouth but allowing the weakened champion to breathe. Ms. Marvelous gulped down several breaths in quick succession.
Stretch momentarily removed the finger plugging the heroine’s right ear. “That’s it, Cutie-Pie,” he whispered evilly. “Breathe! I want you conscious during this. I want you awake while I rape you!” The finger in her mouth prevented Ms. Marvelous from responding. Even if she could, what would she say? Stretch’s hold on her was firmly locked in place. Her arms were pinned. Her legs were immobilized. His fingers were wrapped across her athletic figure like webbing. Her nipples were growing hard under his teasing touch. Her pussy lips had been pulled to the side and her clit was now being stroked mercilessly. Her ears were plugged so that she could not hear the outside world. The finger in her mouth was exploring her now, toying with her tongue, gums, and lips. It was strangely erotic, she had to admit-- being violated orally like this was an experience to which she had never before been subjected. On the one hand, she was totally grossed out. Having this criminal’s freakishly long finger in her mouth was disgusting. But at the same time, the feel of it probing her oral cavity, stroking her in this new and previously unimagined way, combined with the lightheadedness that had overcome her due to a lack of oxygen, and, she supposed, the fact that she was completely helpless to prevent it, seemed to be turning her on!
Ms. Marvelous silently chided herself for being so foolish. She could not allow herself to become distracted. She could not give in to the sensations beginning to well up inside her body. She could not allow the fingers stroking her nipples to weaken her resolve. She could not allow the fingers manipulating her womanhood to break her will. Stretch was a criminal. He was a gang banger. The thought of losing to such an evil man was loathsome to the powerful heroine. His elongation power was freakish and disgusting. There was nothing sensual or erotic about him—He was grotesque.
But her nipples were growing hard. Each new pinch caused a jolt of sensations to wash across the young blonde’s incredible body. Each new stroke caused her to tremble. Her pussy was growing moist. Each brush of Stretch’s finger across her swelling clit heightened her arousal. The girl struggled frantically to escape, knowing that to remain locked within her foe’s grasp would surely mean defeat. The Sartak, the curse which made her vulnerable to sensual attacks, would see to it. It would rob her strength and send her drifting into a type of system shock that would leave her helpless.
Stretch sensed his impending victory and smiled. His garrote-tongue wrapped around the young woman’s neck once again and continued to squeeze her windpipe, allowing her just enough air to remain conscious while at the same time keeping her weak. The beautiful heroine’s struggled breathing was like music to his ears. His smile grew wider as her struggles lessened and then ceased altogether. His eyes beamed as her arms went limp. His loins grew warm as she lost all strength and slumped downward atop her folded legs. She rested there, unmoving, kneeling on the asphalt, the heels of her feet pressing into the soft flesh of her butt-cheeks, helpless.
Excited, but wary of a ploy, Stretch continued to hold onto the girl tightly. His chest pressed against her back. His rubbery arms encircled hers. His legs were hopelessly entwined with hers—It would be difficult to remove them, even if he wanted to. So instead, the criminal gang-banger concentrated on his fingers. He focused his attention on the sensory input he was receiving from each fingertip and took full advantage of his mutant ability to perform multiple tasks at once. He explored her mouth. He continued to tease and pinch the girl’s nipples. He continued to stroke and caress the lips of her pussy. He fondled and massaged her exposed clit.
Stretch knew nothing of the Sartak. He did not know precisely why his beautiful young adversary was becoming so weak. He did not know why she no longer fought against his hold on her, nor why her once powerful body had become so limp. He did not know why her nipples were literally stabbing into his fingers, or why her pussy was now dripping with her womanly juices. He had never been all that accomplished as a lover, he had to admit, despite his unusual powers. And this was not an ordinary session with one of his whores— This was not voluntary sex. He was raping the girl yet her body was responding to his touch as if she were totally turned on. Could it be that she was somehow vulnerable to this kind of thing? Was the great Ms. Marvelous really nothing more than an oversexed slut?
In the end, though, the question did not need to be answered. It did not matter, after all. All that mattered was that he, Stretch Ply, had the powerful super-heroine at his mercy, and mercy was a
thing foreign to him. His rubbery cock, as if with a mind of its own, stretched forth from the unzipped crotch of his leather pants. It curved under her ass and between her legs. It slid upward across her bare stomach and between her engorged breasts. It rose across her throat and under her chin.
Ms. Marvelous, now dizzy from lack of oxygen and under the spell of the Sartak, felt the warm, flexible appendage cross over her bottom lip and force its way into her open mouth. At first, the beautiful blonde thought it was yet another finger stretched forth from her adversary’s hand to further torment her. But it was different, somehow—larger in girth, warmer, moist on the tip—She realized in dismay that this new thing in her mouth was not a finger but rather her foe’s freakish cock. She shook her head from side to side in a vain effort to dislodge it. But the tongue-garrote tightened around her throat and restrained her motions. It contracted yet again, choking the breath and the fight from her weakening body. With a heavy sigh, the dazed and defenseless girl’s body went limp and she resigned herself to the fact that she had been defeated.
It was no small feet that had been accomplished by the criminal. The beautiful heroine had a strength of will far greater than that of normal women. Her pride was perhaps her greatest asset, greater even than her amazing strength. To break her will and dominate her body was an extraordinary occurrence. But her strong arms were pinned beneath coils of mutant flesh. Her powerful legs were bound and made useless. Her nipples, teased relentlessly by her attacker’s freakishly long fingers, now jutted prominently outward from beneath the sheer fabric of her tight-fitting costume. Her breasts, engorged with blood, were noticeably larger than usual. Each new caress of his fingers across their sensitive surfaces sent waves of erotic sensations coursing through her helpless body.
The lips of the heroine’s pink pussy were held to the sides, opening a passage to her vulnerable love hole. Her clitoris, rubbed and stroked constantly by her pitiless adversary, was swollen to its maximum size. Each touch of his finger against her sensitive bulb brought her impending orgasm closer to its climax. The girl’s body was on fire. She was nearly ready to explode.
The cock in her mouth, moist and hot, played with her gag reflex time after time, dipping into her throat and then pulling back, torturing her. In desperation, the brave heroine bit down on the thing, thinking that she might at least be able to cause her tormentor some discomfort. But even at this she was foiled—The rubbery member was more than a match for her weak efforts. Eventually, after growing accustomed to the thing penetrating her throat, her body no longer gagged. She took it in deeply, swallowing it nearly to her esophagus.
The blonde beauty’s eyes bulged, then closed. Her face took on a shade of blue. She could not breathe. She could not fight. She could not resist. She would come at any moment. She would pass out shortly after. This would be her last battle. She would not survive.
But Stretch had already released his wad. It traveled quickly along the length of his elongated cock, passing through the rubbery shaft without losing its fury. It exploded deep into her throat and forced its way into her gullet, a hot stream of seed that sealed the girl’s humiliation.
Ms. Marvelous tensed as she felt the semen burning inside her. Her own orgasm was nearly ready to explode. She did not think she could hold it off much longer. She did not think— An unexpected sound broke through the smoldering cloud of her passions. Desperate to focus on anything other than her impending climax, the heroine tried to concentrate on the sound. It was difficult to make out, at first, since Stretch’s fingers still plugged her ears. But it sounded like—a phone? Yes, she decided, it was a cell phone ringing nearby.
“Damnit!” Stretch cursed as he removed his finger from the girl’s right ear. “Of all the blasted times to be calling!”
The fingers stroking her right breast pulled back, as did the ones teasing her pussy. The phone rang again. His right arm began to slowly unwrap itself from around hers. For a brief instant, a flicker of hope burned bright in the blonde bombshell’s mind. But the spark quickly faded. Her arm, though free, dangled limply at her side. She was too far gone, the heroine realized gloomily, to have any hope of making an escape.
The cock filling her mouth pulled out of her throat, allowing the heroine to breathe. Ms. Marvelous forced her eyes open and looked at her surroundings. Her heart sank as she saw that Scarface and his three buddies were getting back to their feet. Even if she did find the strength to escape Stretch,
she knew, she would still have to get past the rest of the Gangrel. In her weakened condition, both scenarios seemed highly unlikely.
Elle remained across the street, still standing like a statue. Glacier, the silver-haired kid, was ravishing her lithe body thoroughly. It was obvious that her friend, as surely as herself, was getting royally screwed on this night.
Again, the phone rang. The sound seemed to be coming from her foe’s jacket pocket. Ms. Marvelous watched in amazement as her adversary’s right arm returned to its normal length and disappeared behind her body. She felt him reaching inside his jacket—He removed the phone and answered harshly.
“What the hell is it?” There was a pause as he listened to the speaker on the other end of the line. When Stretch spoke again, his tone softened noticeably. Apparently, the calling party was someone deserving of his respect.
“Yes, Ogre Queen, I’m sorry. It’s just that I am kind of in the middle of something here. Can’t it wait?… What’s that? You say that the warehouse has been attacked?”
Again there was a pause as Stretch listened to the voice. “Refrain’s men, huh? And Lomac himself is leading the attack? Yes, this is serious. But we will run them off, just like last time. My crew and I will be there shortly… Yes, no delays, your majesty. We will leave immediately!”
It took the bizarre mutant several moments to completely unwrap his elongated limbs from around the defeated heroine and return them to their normal size. His lengthy cock came out of the girl’s mouth last—He allowed her body to fall forward on the pavement and then stood over her. She lay on her stomach, her beautiful face hidden by her long golden hair. He looked down on her gorgeous body, disappointed that he had not been given the opportunity to ravage it further. But The Ogre Queen was not one to be trifled with. She was a leader of the Gangrel, second only to the King B himself, and when she gave an order it was best if it was carried out quickly.
“There will be another time, Cutie-Pie,” he said despairingly to his fallen foe. “Until then, I bid you adieu. Scarface! Clubber! Let’s go. Boxer, pick up Tigora and carry her. Glacier, stop playing with that girl’s nipples and let’s go! Lomac has attacked and we must join the battle! Onward to victory!”
Ms. Marvelous listened to the footsteps of the Gangrel as they faded into the distance. She was conscious, but only just. Her impending orgasm lingered unsatisfied, fueling the Sartak and insuring that she would be helpless for some time. Had she really been saved by Prince Lomac, she wondered? Had her sworn enemy, the Warlord of Riberia, really been her salvation?
As the blonde beauty slipped into an involuntary state of uneasy slumber, she realized that, indeed, her old foe had come to the rescue on this night. Unknowingly, to be sure, but never the less his attack on the Gangrel warehouse had saved her. But despite the fact that she was saved, she recognized the event as a bad omen. With both the Gangrel and Don Refrain’s crime family present in this part of town, the River District would be a dangerous place, indeed. For the people of Megapolis, for Elle, and for herself, the Dark Water had never seemed so dark.
Elle Mental could move. She remained on her back, looking up at the early evening sky, carefully testing her arms and legs. She sighed heavily, relieved that the effects of Glacier’s power on her body were not permanent. It seemed that she had been immobile for a very long time, though in fact it had only been twenty minutes.
Though once again able to move, the young fem did not want to get up. She was completely exhausted. Her body had been thoroughly fucked. She had climaxed multiple times. It had been unlike anything she had ever before endured. The experience had been intense and draining, both physically and mentally.
A blanket had been laid over her prone body. She faintly remembered one of the merchants, a kindly older woman who sold such things, covering her with it. She was thankful to have it—her costume had been badly torn and her breasts exposed to the world.
Her cheeks burned red as she remembered what had occurred just before—How Glacier had tossed her limp and powerless body unceremoniously to the ground. He had stood over her like a
conquering hero, gloating on his victory like the immature teenager that he was. His feet had straddled her on either side, his enormous cock positioned directly over her bare chest. He had gripped it in his hand and squeezed. A final, large drop of semen formed on the tip of his huge shaft. Finally it fell, dropping toward her and then splattering in the middle of her exposed cleavage. She remembered the way it had felt-- warm, wet, and humiliating.
Keeping the blanket wrapped about her, the weary brunette rolled onto her side and then raised her aching body up onto her left hip. A small crowd had gathered in a loose circle around her, though they kept their distance and none offered to help. It did not surprise her, really—She was a mutant and these people had learned to fear mutants. The Gangrel had seen to that.
Elle pulled herself slowly to her feet. Her loins ached from the abuse they had received. Glacier’s ten-inch man dagger had impaled her thoroughly, time after time, and had left her feeling battered and bruised. She looked around. The gang was nowhere to be seen. The beautiful brunette was thankful for that, at least. Thankful to be alive and thankful that she would get another shot at them. “They will pay,” she vowed silently. “They have not seen the last of Elle Mental.”
The violet clad mutant saw the slender figure of her friend some feet away, on the opposite side of the street. The heroine known as Ms. Marvelous had fared no better, it appeared, than had herself. Elle walked toward her comrade and knelt beside the blonde girl’s body. She was pleased to see a bit of movement. Her friend was coming around.
“Hey,” she said softly while giving the gorgeous blonde a hand. “Easy does it. Do not attempt to get up too quickly.”
The girl moaned and placed her hand against her forehead. “How long have I been out?” “Not long, I think. Allow me to help you.”
“The Gangrel?”
“Gone. Kicked our butts and left. They must have decided that we were not worth the trouble of finishing off. After our performance tonight, I can hardly blame them.”
Ms. Marvelous made it to her feet and took a deep breath. “Lomac… It was Prince Lomac…” Elle’s eyes opened wide. The Warlord of Riberia was her most despised enemy. “What? What about Prince Lomac?”
“He and his men apparently attacked a Gangrel warehouse somewhere nearby. I overheard Stretch saying something about going to fight him. Apparently, the Gangrel and the Refrain crime family are not on the best of terms.”
“Yes,” Elle replied with hatred burning in her eyes. “I have heard that ownership of the River District is in dispute. Both sides wish to control the lucrative drug business that operates from here.” Ms. Marvelous nodded in agreement. “The docks are critical for the importation of cocaine from South America. Without the docks and the warehouses, Refrain’s operation is severely limited. And since the demise of his street gang, the Reavors, he has been unable to win back his former territory.” “And since it is now in the hands of the Gangrel,” Elle added, “getting it back may require nothing less than a full scale gang war. It will not be pretty. Not that I care for either Refrain or the Gangrel, but-- ”
“But such a conflict will harm the innocent people that live here. No, I agree—We must work to stop this conflict.”
“Even if it means taking sides?”
Ms. Marvelous paused. Like Elle, she had no love for either Refrain or the Gangrel. They were all equally evil. “Hopefully, it will not come to that. But given the opportunity to shift the balance from one side to the other and ensure a quick settlement of this street war, I believe that yes, we should act decisively. It would be in the best interest of the citizens of this city.”
“And we deal with the winning side at a later, more convenient, time?” Elle replied while thinking over the plan. “Yes, I suppose that this is the best thing to do. And honestly, I do not care which side we take down first, whether it be our old enemies, Refrain and Lomac, or our new foes, Stretch and Glacier. As long as we get to kick some ass!”
“Yes,” Ms. Marvelous answered with a nod, “though I think I should tell you that the men we battled tonight may not be the toughest we face. Stretch and Glacier report to someone called the Ogre Queen. I do not know who she is but--”
“The Ogre Queen?” Elle interrupted. “Yes, I have heard of her. She is a powerful mutant, apparently possessing the ability to turn men into beasts. If she leads the Gangrel then we are, indeed, facing a powerful group. Worse, I have heard that she partners with a man called the King-B. I know little of him, other than that he is reputed to be an exceptionally sadistic man.”
“Then we have our work cut out for us,” the blonde beauty snarled while smacking her right fist into her left palm. “I say we take to the air and find this disputed warehouse and join the battle. Perhaps we can weaken both gangs at the same time!”
Elle’s eyes widened. Her friend’s ability to quickly recover from a beating never ceased to amaze her. If only she herself could recover so swiftly. “I do not think that this is such a great idea, Jody. I am going to need a day or two to recover.”
The lust for combat burning in her friend’s eyes softened into a look of compassion. “Yes, perhaps we could both use a break. After all, we have to get ready for Quaren’s fashion show. From the looks of your costume, I would say that your debt to him may never be repaid.”
Elle pulled the blanket tighter around her slender figure and blushed. Jody spoke the truth—The Tekskin costumes that Quaren provided her were expensive and the only way she had to pay was by doing his fashion shows. Her current costume, less than a day old, was already in tatters, thanks to Glacier. She would need a new one right away.
The beautiful brunette wrapped her arm around her friend’s shoulder and held on tightly as the blonde champion used her flying power to easily lift them both off the ground. As the two took to the sky and headed for home, Elle looked back over her shoulder at the market street battleground for a final time. Her cheeks burned in humiliation and shame at the thought of her defeat. How could she tell Jody the truth, she wondered? How could she tell her friend that it was not her body that needed time to recover, but her mind? How could she tell her friend that Glacier had not just raped her, but that he had made her his slave?
Just the thought of the silver-haired young mutant made Elle’s aching loins grow moist. The eighteen year old had fucked her like no one had ever fucked her. He had dominated not only her body but also her mind. Elle both dreaded and anticipated their next encounter. She was unsure how she would react—Could she trust herself? Could she trust herself to see the evil that burned in Glacier’s heart? Would she be able to fight him? Or would she melt beneath his fiery gaze and submit to his icy touch?
Jody gazed into the mirror and tried not to enjoy too much the attention she was receiving. The hairstylist and makeup artist were literally fawning over her, stroking her hair and touching up her face and generally making her look more beautiful than she had ever looked before. At least, she felt like she was more beautiful than ever before.
She knew that some of the other girls, all beautiful in their own right, were frowning at her. She could see their reflections in the mirror, behind that of her own, casting jealous glances in her direction. But it was not her fault, she decided, that the stylists were spending more time with her than they had with the others. She had not asked them to.
Another pair of stylists worked with Elle in the next chair over. She, too, was receiving an inordinate amount of attention. Jody glanced at her friend and admired once again how gorgeous she was. And on this night, with her makeup and hair professionally done, Elle looked even more glamorous than usual. Her long dark hair dangled naturally about her shoulders. Her bronze tanned skin was healthy and clear. Her lips were red and full.
Jody gazed back at her own reflection. She did not know why the stylists fawned over her so. She did not know why the producer of the fashion show, Quaren, kept saying that she would be his new star or why he was assigning her all the best clothes. She was attractive, she supposed, but not nearly so glamorous as Elle. Oh well, she decided with a shrug—Perhaps Quaren just had a thing for blondes.
But the other girls came in all varieties, she noted. Fair-haired and dark-haired, some white, some oriental, some black—On second thought, it seemed that Quaren liked a good mix. The only obvious thing that the girls had in common was that they were all tall, slender, and young. In fact, at five
foot nine and six respectively, she and Elle were among the shortest in the group. At least they had the slender and young parts down.
She looked again at Elle. The dark beauty sat with her long legs crossed and casually turned the pages of a magazine as the finishing touches were put on her hair and makeup. She seemed in every way to be perfectly relaxed. Jody, on the other hand, was trying desperately to deal with a batch of butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach. Unlike her calm companion, this modeling thing was a new experience for her. If what Quaren had told her earlier was true, there were more than a hundred people waiting on the other side of the large red curtain at the front of the room. Several members of the media were also present. The idea of parading in front of them while nearly buck-naked was not one that filled the young blonde with confidence.
“Nobody told me that we were going to be modeling swim suits,” she said for the fifth time. “Do not worry about it,” Elle replied without looking up from the magazine. “Only half the audience will be men. The other half will be looking at the suits, not at you.”
“Fifty men looking at me?” Jody said in terror. “I don’t think I can do this. I really, really, really don’t think I can. I feel like a big breasted bikini clad bimbo!”
“Imagine that they are in their underwear. I have heard that it sometimes works.” “If only they had to imagine me in mine. I mean, I really am going to be in my underwear!” “It is not underwear,” Elle reminded her. “Swimming suits. Just like at the beach.” “At the beach everyone is wearing swimming suits. Out there, it will be just us! No, I don’t think imagining them in their underwear is going to work.”
“Then think about the money. Three hundred bucks for fifteen minutes of work--Not bad, if you ask me.”
Jody sighed. “Yes, I’ll try to remember the money. Quaren is good for it, right?” “He has not let me down, yet.” Elle paused. She frowned as she spoke again. “Though I will not be getting a penny, tonight. Everything I earn will go straight back to Quaren to pay for the new costume I had him make for me. I do not suppose that you could--”
“Of, course,” Jody interjected with smile. “I’ll loan you a few bucks until the next show.” “The next show?” Elle asked in surprise. “So you would consider doing another one of these things?”
Jody shrugged. “Possibly. Let’s just see how tonight goes before we start planning ahead.” “Great! But here comes Quaren now. It looks like it is show time. Ready or not, here we go!”
Jody took a deep breathe before stepping out from behind the curtain and onto the elevated runway. The sound of rock and roll music, being pumped through a set of large overhead speakers, assaulted her ears. The lights, as bright as the music was loud, nearly blinded her, which was probably a good thing since it prevented her from seeing the rows of seated people staring up at her.
The building was a small converted gymnasium. The lights and speakers were mounted from steel rafters high overhead. Folding chairs had been positioned around the runway on the hardwood of what had once been a basketball court. It was not the greatest place in the world to present a fashion show, but it was the best that Quaren could afford.
Jody was the fourth girl to make the short walk. The model in front of her, a strikingly beautiful oriental girl, was just making her turn at the far end of the runway as Jody came into view. She watched the girl, trying to emulate her style. It did not look so hard, she decided. Simply strut down the twenty foot walkway, turn, and walk back. What could be easier?
But the high-heels were complicating matters. How ridiculous, the blonde beauty thought, to be wearing spiked heels with a two-piece swimming suit. Like you would ever see such shoes at the beach or pool, she thought with amusement. In truth, she rarely wore them at all, even when wearing a dress. And unlike Elle, who wore high-heels almost all the time, she found them exceptionally difficult to walk in.
She concentrated on her walk and determined that she would not to make a fool of herself by toppling over. She suddenly realized that she had been forgetting to smile, not that it mattered since
most of the models, it seemed, chose to look grimly serious. It made sense, she supposed—They were supposed to be modeling the clothes, after all, and not themselves.
But many of the girls were doing just that, she was sure. Trolling for men, trying to attract the rich ones, the ones that would sweep them off their feet and take them away from all this. And the men in the audience, too, she was sure, were not interested in the swimming suits so much as they were the women wearing them.
“All that is missing is a bar to swing on,” she mumbled silently as she made her turn. “A bar and a bunch of folded one dollar bills.”
The thought of dollar bills reminded her of the money she would receive at the end of the show. As Elle had said, it was not bad pay for a few minutes work. Certainly more than what she earned as a computer analyst at her downtown job. Compared to that, this was exciting and fun, she decided. And easy. Except for the high heels.
Cameras clicked and flashbulbs popped as she strutted her stuff. Her lightly tanned skin glistened—Quaren had wanted the girls to have a “wet and wild” look, so he had insisted that they be sprayed down with water before going on stage. Jody thought that he had overdone it. So much water had been used that puddles of the excess had formed on the cement floor of the back room. Oh, well, she decided. Perhaps such things were common at fashion shows.
Her first tour of the stage was quickly at an end. Despite her fears, she had survived. She passed under the red curtain and returned to the back room. She winked at Elle, who was still waiting her turn. She would have said something, but a pair of hands immediately grabbed her by the shoulders and roughly pushed her through a smaller curtain and into one of the many makeshift changing stalls that had been hastily assembled for the event.
It was Quaren. “Quick! Put on this next suit. You are going back out in sixty seconds!” Jody scrambled to remove the two-piece and slide into the new suit. It was yet another bikini, even skimpier than the first. “You have to be kidding,” she shouted through the curtain. “I have maxi pads that cover more than this!”
“Just put it on, and hurry! I want you and Elle to do double shifts.”
Jody did as she was told and tried to forget that dozens of men would be looking at her as she strutted past in a suit that consisted of little more than a couple of shoestrings and some dollar bill sized swatches of cloth. Never mind that she would be sopping wet.
“You’re a sick man, Quaren,” she said while slipping out from behind the small curtain. “Only a sick man would design clothes like these.”
The pencil-thin tailor chose to ignore the comment. He reached out and brazenly tugged at the bikini to adjust the fit on Jody’s slender but voluptuous body. “Never mind that—Just get into line. Here, cut in front of Aieka. I need more water here! Somebody douse this girl!”
The oriental girl, having also changed into a new suit and splashed with water, shot Jody a mean look as Quaren pushed his new star to the front of the line. “Now go! Go, go, go!” There was barely enough time for an assistant to sponge Jody down before it was again her turn to step onto the runway. She thought she heard some gasps as she took her first few steps. Oh, geez, had she done something wrong, she wondered? Her eyes adjusted more quickly to the bright lights, this time, and she glanced down into the crowd. Rows of spectators stared back, their eyes locked on her. Jody self-consciously tugged on her bikini top to make sure the meager thing had not fallen out of place. The men in the crowd seemed to be gawking at her, she realized. Most of the women, too, could not take their eyes off of her. “Wow,” Jody thought as she neared the end of the runway. “This must be one great bathing suit.”
The girl in front of her, a tall, lanky, redhead to whom nobody was paying any attention, finished her turn and started the walk back toward the curtain. She scowled jealously at Jody as she walked past. “Bitch,” she muttered.
Jody ignored the comment and made her own turn a moment later, anxious to return to the comparative safety of the back room. She was uncomfortable with the way the men in the audience were staring at her. She did not like the looks of desire she saw in their eyes. It reminded her of the criminals she had faced during her career as a crime fighter. It reminded her of the way they always seemed to want to rape her. They never seemed to want to run away, to escape her justice—They seemed always to
want to stay and battle her, to tempt the fates and overwhelming odds and take their shot at forcing themselves on her sexually.
But the men in the audience were not criminals, she reminded herself. They were just here for a good time and to see some pretty women strutting their stuff up and down the runway. There was no danger here, nothing to fear—
Suddenly, a commotion broke out near the back of the room. It could be heard even over the loud music. Startled, Jody spun and tried to see what was happening. She shielded her eyes with her hands to get a better look. A number of spectators were getting pushed around. Something was going on. A fight of some kind had broken out.
Quaren rushed through the curtain to see what was happening. He moved past Jody, to the end of the stage. At his signal, the music stopped, allowing him to speak.
“What is going on?” the tailor shouted. “I insist that you barbarians take your fight outside. You are ruining my fabulous fashion show!”
He was answered with the sound of laughter. Like a parting wave, spectators fled to the side as a group of unruly gang bangers approached the stage.
“You insist, Quaren? Do you know to whom you are speaking?”
The tailor shielded his eyes in an effort to make out the approaching figures. He gasped in fear as he recognized the source of the voice. “Ogre Queen! I am sorry, I did not realize… But why are you here? You have always allowed me my fashion shows in the past. You have never interrupted before. Why do you do so now?”
The woman known as the Ogre Queen stepped forward. She was surrounded by members of her gang. Jody’s eyes narrowed as she spotted Stretch. Glacier was here, too. Behind them, hidden within the hood of her robe, was the cat woman, Tigora. Scarface, Clubber, Boxer, and Hank were also present. It seemed that the entire gang was here.
“Do not play dumb with me, Eunuch!” the Ogre Queen hissed back. “You well know that you have not settled your debt with the Gangrel! Do you think that our protection comes for free? Do you think that you can go on forever without paying us our due?”
The tailor was sweating. Fear was written across his face. “But I am prepared to pay! I had the money ready for you just the other night. But your men--” Quaren looked timidly at Stretch and Glacier, “—did not come to collect.”
The Ogre Queen cast a sideways glance at her leather-clad subordinates. Her eyes paused on her first lieutenant. “Is this true, Stretch? Did you fail to collect the money?”
The master of elongation smiled in his usual, sinister, way. “We would have collected it, my queen, had we not been interrupted by two troublesome super-heroines. In the confusion, I guess that we forgot.”
“I see,” the Queen replied. “So perhaps it is not your fault, after all, Quaren. Give us the money, now, and we will--”
“Except…” interjected Stretch.
“Yes? Except for what?”
Stretch snickered as if preparing to tell the punch line of a joke. “Except that the two super heroines in question seemed to be guarding the Eunuch’s shop. We were able to collect from all the other merchants. It was only when we approached his tailor shop that they chose to block our path.”
The Ogre Queen looked up at Quaren and scowled. Her glare was enough to make a grown man tremble like a child. Her eyes were glowed red, as if emitting a light of their own. Her skin, as black as darkest Africa, shimmered. Her teeth had been filed to sharp points. Her hair was cropped short to her scalp.
The Queen’s clothing was no less fearsome than her features. She was dressed completely in black. A large collar rose atop her shoulders, giving her the appearance of evil majesty. A dark cape fell from her shoulders and nearly touched the floor. A leather bustier fit tightly about her womanly form. A corset squeezed her narrow waist and accentuated her athletic hips. A long, rawhide whip was coiled and fastened to her belt. Her legs were bare, revealing a set of powerful, muscular, thighs. Knee-high boots were laced up the front with narrow strips of polished leather. She stood well over six feet tall atop the five-inch stiletto heels of her boots.
Quaren, on the stage and sweating under the terrible gaze of the Queen, suddenly became aware that he was higher up than she. He fell to his knees in a trembling mass, hopeful that she had not been overly offended at having to look up while speaking to him.
“It is not true, my Queen!” he offered up weakly. “The heroines were not specifically protecting me! I swear!”
The Ogre Queen smirked. “It does not matter. Whether it was you they were protecting or the entire community, such a rebellion will not be tolerated. It would seem that my empire is full of rebels— Don Refrain, Prince Lomac, the MCT, and now these two impertinent heroines—It appears that the power of the Gangrel is not sufficiently feared. Lest any of my subjects in the Dark Water gain boldness from the actions of these rebels, I will display just how ruthless we can be. Stretch, I command you to collect a tax from these people. Make them pay tribute to the Gangrel!”
The rubber man took a step forward but then hesitated. “How much should we take, your highness?”
The Queen thought for a moment. “Why, everything, I think. And if anyone gives you any trouble, hurt them. Once you have collected the tribute, burn this building to the ground. I care not if the people are still inside.”
Stretch smiled evilly. “Very well, my queen! It shall be as you have commanded! Scarface! Boxer! Do as you have been instructed! Rob them! Rob them all!”
Quaren was frantic. He turned to look back at Jody. His face was pale with fear. His expression begged for her to help. “Do something. Do anything.” But the young blonde was no longer on the stage. She had disappeared.
The red curtain closed behind Jody as she slipped into the back room. She forced her way past the small crowd of curious onlookers, the models and stylists and support people that all seemed intent on finding out what was happening. “You should get out of here while you can,” she said to several of them as she slid by. “Get out through the back door! Hurry!”
She scanned the room for Elle. Their eyes met—Elle waved at her from behind the curtain of one of the small dressing stalls. “Over here!” she shouted.
Jody hurried to the small stall and ducked inside. She was surprised to see that Elle was already in costume. “That was fast,” she commented while closing the curtain behind her. “I guess it is a good thing we came prepared.”
Elle nodded in agreement and made the final adjustments to her tight-fitting apparel. “I grabbed your purse and placed it there on the counter. I assume that your costume is inside?” “In the pill bottle, just like always.”
“Great! Get dressed and meet me outside. I will keep our friends occupied while you prepare. Hurry—I do not know how long I can hold them off on my own.”
“Be careful!” Jody replied. “From the looks of it, the entire Gangrel gang is here. The Ogre Queen, too, and she looks like a nasty bitch. We will need to be on our toes!”
“Right!” Elle agreed. “And let’s do it right, this time around. It is payback time!”
Elle Mental charged through the red curtain with a determined look on her face. She found chaos waiting on the other side. Spectators screamed as they were pushed around by the Gangrel thugs. Women were knocked to the ground and kicked. Their purses and jewelry were taken. Some of the men in the crowd tried to protect them, but they were no match for the gang. Scarface and Boxer were firing machineguns into the air. Hank and Clubber wielded large knives.
The super-powered members of the gang were laughing and having fun, using their special abilities to thoroughly terrorize their victims. Stretch was using his elongation power to block the exit. Tigora was out of her robe and dashing through the room like some kind of fur-clad demon. Her claws had drawn blood on more than one innocent unfortunate enough to get in her path. The Ogre Queen was cracking her bullwhip in the air and using it to herd the panicked spectators around the room. They dove for cover under their chairs as she cracked it over their heads.
Anger welled in Elle’s chest as she saw the destruction being caused by the gang. But then she saw Glacier. The silver-haired mutant was freezing people at random, leaving a string of immobile statues in his wake. Elle stopped in her tracks. Her anger turned to fear. She was frightened of the boy, she knew. Or perhaps more accurately, she was frightened by the memory of what he had done to her. The thought that he might do it again was almost more than she could take. For a brief moment, the beautiful heroine considered fleeing back behind the curtain.
But her dread was mixed with something else, something even more sinister than fear. She remembered how it had felt when she was raped by him, how it had felt when her body had been separated from the inhibitions of her mind. It had been incredible—the erotic sensations that had taken over her body had been unlike anything she had ever before experienced. There was a yearning within her, no matter how much she might deny it, to experience those sensations again. How could she beat him, she wondered, when part of her wanted only to be defeated?
But Elle knew that she could not run away and hide. Nor could she surrender to the primitive, physical desires of her body. People were being hurt. Innocents were being terrorized. She had to do something. She had to protect them.
She quickly formulated a plan. She dragged her gaze away from Glacier and onto the gun-toting thugs, Scarface and Boxer. Her friend, Ms. Marvelous, might be bulletproof, but she and the other people in this room were not. It was imperative that she disarm the gunmen before doing anything else.
Elle removed the length of rope she wore on her hip. Using the telekinetic power of her mind, she unfurled it in front of her and focused on the two gunmen. The rope came to life within a sparkling violet light of mutant power. It leapt through the air with incredible speed and perfect accuracy. It darted across the room like an airborne serpent, covering the open space between she and her targets in the blink of an eye. In a flash, the rope wound about the wrists of her foes and pulled tight. It coiled about their bodies and pulled them together in a tight package. It looped around them several more times and then knotted itself off.
The weapons fell from the surprised gunmens’ hands. The two men lost their balance and toppled over, falling onto their sides. Elle was pleased—Not only had she disarmed the men, but she had disabled them as well. And by knotting the rope, she had ensured that they would not be able to rejoin the fight even as she turned her attention to other matters. The only downside was that she would have to go the rest of the way without her rope. All in all, she decided, it was a fair tradeoff.
The Ogre Queen smiled. She had witnessed the entire episode. She had seen two of her men get taken down. No doubt, she decided, this dark-haired beauty on the stage was the famous Elle Mental, the legendary mutant that had escaped the MCT and made a fool of Don Refrain. She had heard of the girl and heard of her exploits. It would be enjoyable, she decided, to test her skills and take her down. It would be fun to capture her and take her back to the King-B. Yes, life was good when you were second in command of the city’s most powerful street gang.
“Clubber! Hank! There, on the stage! Capture that woman!”
The two thugs looked at their queen and then up at the stage. They swallowed hard—The memory of getting smacked around by Elle Mental and her blonde companion was still fresh in their minds. But as much as they feared the dark angel, they feared the Ogre Queen more. Her commands were not to be questioned.
“Yes, my queen!”
“At once!”
The two men, each weighing close to three-hundred pounds, hoisted their lumbering frames onto the stage. They faced off with the slender mutant and took fighting stances. Elle did the same and waited for their attack. Clubber came at her first, waving a fifteen inch knife menacingly out in front of him.
“I’m going to cut you up, bitch! I’m going to slice and dice you into little pieces and then--” A lightning-quick spinning heel kick ripped the blade from the big man’s hand. He looked down at his empty fingers in amazement. “What the fuck? I barely saw you move!”
Elle blew her baffled opponent a kiss and then leapt into the air. She flipped forward and drove her feet into Clubber’s chest. The big man was thrown backward by the impact and crashed into his mate. The two gang bangers toppled off the stage and landed awkwardly atop the first row of folding chairs.
“You bitch!” Clubber yelled as he got to his feet. “I’ll make you pay for that!”
Elle watched in amusement as her angry foe placed his hands on the stage and began to hoist himself up. The fool had left himself completely defenseless. To late, he realized his mistake. The gorgeous super-heroine stepped forward and drilled the point of her right boot into his face. He fell back to the floor like a sack of cement.
“So much for Clubber,” the young beauty noted in satisfaction. “Now for Hank.” The second thug was more cautious than his companion had been, sliding around to the end of the stage and keeping a close eye on his slender adversary as he climbed back up onto the platform. His bowie knife glimmered in the bright overhead lights. He waved it from side to side like a pro, wary of any attempt to remove it from his hand.
“Clubber never was much good with a knife,” he said with a mean frown, “but I am. You won’t be able to kick it out of my hand like you did to--”
Elle moved with the speed of a cat. A front toe kick nailed the underside of Hank’s hand and sent the long blade flying end over end into the air. She caught it in her own hand as it returned to earth. “You mean this knife?” she asked with an innocent smile.
Hank’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “Hey! That’s mine! Give it back!”
“Whatever you say,” the violet clad champion replied. She flung the knife at his feet. It stabbed into the wooden surface of the runway and stuck at a forty-five degree angle.
“Shit! You could’ve taken my toes off!”
Hank leaned over to take the handle of the large blade. It was a mistake. Elle charged forward and soccer kicked him in the chops. The crack of her foot against his skull could be heard throughout the building. A number of nearby spectators, having witnessed the entire episode, applauded as the big man’s body flopped over the side of the stage and fell limply to the floor below.
“Ok,” Elle said to herself. “That’s four down and four to go. I wonder who will be next?” The answer to her question came soon enough. Tigora, in all her berserker glory, leapt onto the stage and approached. The tiger-woman clicked her talons together and hissed through a set of razor sharp teeth.
“I will rip you limb to limb and feast on your flesh, young one!”
Elle took a step back and raised her hands in a defensive posture. “Really Tigora, cannibalism is so gauche.”
The half-cat snarled. “You dare to mock me? I will tear the meat from your bones!” Tigora leapt forward with incredible speed and agility. Her claws reached for the beautiful brunette menacingly. At the last moment, Elle jumped high into the air and over her angry foe. She landed several feet away and somersaulted into a crouch.
“You will have to do better than that, kitty!”
Tigora was furious. She spun on her heels and prepared to attack again. Her claws were like two-inch daggers. Her body was completely naked but for the orange and yellow striped fur that covered her. The irises of her eyes burned with a yellow rage. Her pupils were vertical slits. Every muscle on her body rippled with coil-like intensity. Her speed was a match for that of the young super-heroine. Her strength was far greater. She would make good on her threat. She would rip the girl apart.
The tiger-woman pounced like a savage predator, driving toward her foe with unstoppable fury. Her hands reached outward to grab hold. Her talons prepared to dig into her victim’s flesh. She would soon taste blood. She would soon feast on—
A black-clad fist crashed into the cat-lady’s jaw with unbelievable force. Her head spun around on her shoulders. Her body was launched from the stage and sent flying over the rows of spectators. The crowd scrambled out of the way as she slammed to earth. Folding chairs were overturned and sent toppling as her body bounced and slid across the hard floor. When the cat-woman finally came to a stop, she moved no more.
Ms. Marvelous landed on the stage next to her friend and smiled. “I hope you don’t mind. Something about that cat-chick just rubs me the wrong way.”
Elle smiled back. “No problem. I could have handled her, though.”
“Yeah, Tigora is quick and strong but she can’t take a punch very well.”
“So, there are just three Gangrel left. Which do you want to take?”
The blonde champion eyed the remaining Gangrel warily. “Well, I have a score to settle with Stretch. I imagine that you would like another shot at Glacier, right? I guess whoever gets done with their boy first can tackle the Ogre Queen. Does that sound about right?”
Elle looked at her friend and then glanced at Glacier. The silver-haired mutant stood thirty feet away. He was looking up at her and smiling. It was as if he, too, was recalling their first meeting, at the street market. He was remembering how it had been when had raped her.
Elle looked back at her friend and almost declined to take part in the plan. But how could she? How could she admit to Ms. Marvelous that she was afraid of Glacier? How could she admit that an inexperienced teenager had gotten under her skin? No, she decided. She could not ask someone else to fight her battles for her. She had to face her fears and take care of this problem, once and for all.
The brunette beauty remembered something her father used to say about facing up to one’s fears. “When thrown by a horse,” he would say, “it is important to get right back on.” The point was that only by getting back on the horse could one overcome one’s fear of being thrown. But what if the horse got back on her? What if, during her attempt to mount the horse, the horse mounted her?
And Glacier was some horse, she noted again while looking at him. Though not tall, he was well built and not entirely unhandsome. Even his scowling, arrogant, expression seemed to add to his overall, sensual, appearance. His brash confidence was alluring. And, of course, there was always his huge cock, ten-inches long when fully aroused and possessing a hefty girth. Even now, she could see it bulging from beneath his leather pants. Apparently, she decided, he found her as attractive as she did him.
But this was silly! The boy was pure evil! He had raped her! But Elle knew that this was precisely the problem. She had not found him attractive when she first saw him in the market. She had not found him alluring as he roughed up the merchants and took their money. Her eyes had not been drawn to his crotch as she knocked him around during the early portion of their battle. It had only been later, after he had used his mutant freezing power on her and raped her, that she had been drawn to him. It had only been later, after he had separated her mind from her body and ravaged her flesh that she had come under his spell. It had only been later, after he had brought out the most primitive sexual responses of her physical being that she had become his slave.
But now, Elle knew, the time had come to suppress those primitive feelings. She had to forget about the incredible erotic sensations that had racked her body and overcome her will. She had to reassert the primacy of her mind and act like a sentient creature. She was a super-heroine, not a sex slave. She was a rational, thinking woman, not Glacier’s love-toy.
“Yes,” the brunette beauty stated with steel in her voice. “I will take care of Glacier.”