Savage Fury's Humiliation

HARD TO HARD

As usual when he was home, Walt was watching the 6pm news. And as usual when it was his last evening home for awhile (tomorrow he'd be on the road again for 3 weeks in the PNW) he was looking forward to some special attention tonight. Paige always had something planned for these evenings, usually involving scented oils and special outfits that weren't clothes. Lately she'd started introducing other things: toys like dildos and vibrators, and rope that soft slippery kind of boat line and leather cuffs. He wasn't sure about a lot of that, a little too kinky for his tastes, but he was willing to give it a try if it turned her on.

His gorgeous wife was in the kitchen rattling pots and pans. Literally making such a racket he could barely hear the TV. "Honey," he yelled, "couldja keep it down a bit?"

Silence, so sudden it echoed. She'd been in a Mood for a couple of days now: quiet and withdrawn, taking stuff way too seriously, happy then angry over nothing. It wasn't her period and she didn't want to talk about it anyway, so he'd been hoping she'd get over it by tonight. No such luck.

"What's so interesting anyway?" Paige asked behind him.

He glanced back. She was in the doorway drying her hands with a dish towel.

"They're announcing the award ceremony for Savage Fury. Only a week late."

"Oh."

The word dropped to the floor with a thud. Still that Mood, for no reason.

He patted the spot next to him on the couch. She paused, then came and sat, but didn't relax. Even those titanic boobs of hers refused to jiggle in their enormous halter top. They just sat in her lap, spreading over her thighs like soft pink basketballs. Funny how Paige's monstrous mammaries reflected her moods, he thought: sometimes they took a full minute to stop shimmying and shaking after she settled down, but other times they might as well have been made of plaster. And when she was really in the dumps, they sagged like bowling balls (16-pounders of course) attached to her chest.

Hoping for the best later on, he pretended not to notice her mood. "Well, you know how our mayor feels about all these superdupes, especially the women. All you have to do to end a news conference is ask about Justice Juggs or Savage Fury or Scarlet Dragon."

"He's an uptight self-righteous asshole."

Paige never used words like ‘asshole.' Something really had her going. But hey, if she didn't want to talk about it he sure as hell wasn't going to bring it up. Not after the way she'd flared at him the first time.

The evening looked less and less promising.

The mayor's press secretary was at the podium, reading a prepared statement: "In honor of her inestimable service to the community in rescuing Jonathan Hard, one of this city's great benefactors, and bringing to justice the entire Chain Gang, Savage Fury will receive the city's highest commendation tomorrow at noon, on the steps of City Hall."

There was a flurry of questions from the gathered new media, all of which he pointedly ignored as he turned on his heel and left.

Walt snorted. "Gracious, it wasn't."

Then Jonathan Hard himself stepped to the mike. Dressed to the nineties as usual, urbane and debonair, not a hair out of place or even sweating in the 90+ heat. The kind of guy Cary Grant played in the movies. Walt had to admire his style, and said so.

"I hear he's the real reason for this he told the mayor ‘no award, no bucks next election.'" Paige didn't react. "Not to mention the way he's been a one-man press corps for Savage Fury for the last week. Kinda makes you wonder if they've got something going on the side."

Paige squeezed his hand so tight he winced.

"I dunno, though his wife Jennifer's a stone fox too."

He looked over at his big gorgeous wife. She was staring off into space, face in shadow so all he could see were pearly teeth chewing her heavy lower lip. He almost asked her about it again, but caught himself.

"Y'know," he said, in one last desperate try at conversation (it really bothered him that she wouldn't open up, and disturbed him to see her so pensive), "I'm kinda sorry I'll be out of town tomorrow, I'd like to see that ceremony."

"Why?" she asked, almost snapped. "So you can ogle Savage Fury?"

He just smiled at her. "Now why would I do that when I have you to ogle?"

Could that be it? Could she be jealous of Savage Fury for some reason? Didn't make sense, but who could figure women?

Paige stood suddenly and announced, "I'm going to bed."

Her flat leaden tone made Walt bite back a sharp pang of disappointment. He kept his mouth shut and eyes glued on the TV screen.

He heard her walk to the hallway, then pause.

He glanced back at her and gaped. His placid gentle Amazonian wife stood there with an expression on her sweet face so hard and bitter that he wouldn't have recognized her. He'd considered waiting a bit then following her into the bedroom, but gave that notion up on the spot.

And he wasn't at all sure he wanted to know what was behind that look.

A couple of hours (and several beers) later, Walt had all but convinced himself that he hadn't seen what he thought he had, that it had been a trick of the light. Sooo, after one more beer to make sure, he got up and crept down the hall to the bedroom.

The room was dark, Paige a shadowy sheet-covered form on the bed. She lay on her back as usual, head hidden by what looked in the darkness like a pair of pumpkins lolling about on her chest. They sagged massively to her sides, immense doughy hulks that all but buried her upper arms. In summer she was always getting heat rash above the elbows because of those sweaty milkbags.

Walt loved to watch his gorgeous wife asleep sometimes he'd wake up in the middle of the night just to do that, and play with her boobs making her moan in her sleep. When she moved they'd roll around her chest like fuckin' boulders of blubber, until she woke up and pulled him on top of her and they'd make love like crazed minks.

Paige groaned, and squirmed under the sheet. Her titanic tits sloshed like watermelons of jello.

Walt always wondered what amazing erotic dreams she had that made her so passionate. He wondered if he was in them.

It's the same nightmare you've been having this whole week!

Did you think avoiding Him would help?

So, it's just a memory, you know every humiliating painful inch of it by now, why don't you just WAKE UP, you stupid cow??

Like always, she tries. Like always, she fails. The only escape is out the other end, after it's over.

The only difference from dream to dream is where they begin. This one: in the middle, after the Chain Gang has picked up the ransom and Savage Fury has followed them to the boarded-up union hall where they're holding their hostage, millionaire socialite Jonathan Hard .

You're in a playful mood, so for now you let them think they have you. Despite the Chain Gang's heavily padded armor and helmets, and their lashing chains, you've efficiently and mercilessly beaten their numbers down to a mere half dozen. The rest lie about the large dark hall amidst their smashed and crumpled armor in various positions of bruised and bloodied repose.

You've been knocking these creeps around for an hour and you're tired, but the adrenaline roars in your veins. You're enjoying this chance to toy with the rest before you finish them off.

This time you're going to teach these creeps what it means to dance with Savage Fury!

So when chains lash out you let them take you by your gloved wrists and haul you forward into a pillar with a grunt, gigantic soft tits spreading out to both sides of the column like pumpkins of pink flan being fucked by an enormous erect concrete cock. Your shoulder-sheathed arms are jerked around to embrace the pillar then the Gangers, racing about on in-line skates, start circling you in opposite directions. In just a few moments, they've wound the heavy chains around and around your scantclad awesomely overblown body till you and the column are cocooned in steel links.

Not worried, in fact amused, you take the moment to catch your breath and check on the hostage. Jonathan Hard sits in a corner tied to a chair. He's okay so far in fact watching the battle closely but when you focus your super-eyes on his watch, you see it's almost time to get home and fix dinner for Walt. Which makes it time to unwrap yourself and wrap up these creeps!

Chains lash your lavish bare buttcheeks and you let out an embarrassed squeak, but your struggles only rattle the links swathing you from titanic tits to boot-sheathed knees. The over-confident Gangers laugh and move in which is exactly what you want them to do.

C'mere, boys, let's get real cozy!

Like a hungry lioness watching jackals approach, you try not to appear too eager but can't help a small smile. You're going to show off a bit for Jonathan Hard, maybe it'll make him extra-generous with a reward. Lord knows, you don't do this for money (sometimes it's hard to tell exactly why you do it), but being a superheroine is an expensive hobby and a few extra bucks always help.

Then they start to touch and stroke you, fondle your gargantuan boobs and give your meaty bare butt a few slaps, and the smile goes.

"Dibs on ‘er bazongas!"

"I get this fat shakin' ass!"

"Hey, you had her up the ass last time! It's my turn!"

You struggle in earnest with the chains. They're much stronger than you expected. "You you motherfffllghhh!!"

"Shaddap, Supertits." Filthy underpants are stuffed into your luscious mouth till your cheeks bulge out. You gag on the piss that soaks them.

"Mmmpff! Gglpff!!" Outraged, you shake your cowled head about and strain at the chains hugging you to the pillar.

"All right all right, I'll start with her mouth again but I get her ass second!"

The lead Ganger plays to their hostage audience. "C'mon guys, we draw straws like usual to see who gets Savage Fury's tits, who gets up her ass, who gets into her snatch. Like always, everyone else just has to fight over her mouth. The rest are shit out of luck till sloppy seconds and thirds. Maybe we'll even let our guest have a piece of her."

He grins under his helmet. "Believe it, Mr. Zillionaire: fucking this overblown superbitch is worth the ransom all by itself ‘Savage' Fury's one of the reasons we stay in the biz, right guys?"

"Hey, don't forget Justice Juggs and the rest."

"I said ‘one' of the reasons."

Now they're all playing to Jonathan Hard. And you hate it. "Yeah, but you know how gooshy and squishy her fuckhole gets after an hour or so of ballin'. She cums so much it's like stickin' yer dick into a swamp!"

"And this time let's leave the gag in I get so tired of all that yelpin' and squealin' when 2 or 3 of us are doin' her at once."

"Hey, she won't be makin' no noise nohow with what I'm gonna stick in ‘er mouth! I'm gonna fuck her all the way to her goddam appendix and drown her with my wad!"

Mock resignation: "He always says that ."

Helpless and thoroughly humiliated in front of the man you were supposed to be rescuing, you can't help blushing furiously at their casual chatter (it doesn't help that it's mostly true). Jonathan Hard just stares. Grunting audibly now into the foul urine-soaked gag, you work harder at the chains cocooning your awesomely voluptuous super-body. But they swathe you so tightly they barely rattle.

The Gang leader tsks. "Now, is that polite? We go to all the trouble of having these chains specially forged, just for her, and she's tryin' to break ‘em!"

Another pipes up: "Well c'mon, have some empathy how would you feel if you was bein' mortified in front of the guy you're s'posed to rescue?"

"Looks like Supertits here needs the rescuin'!"

"AGAIN!!" Much coarse laughter.

As you strain grimly at the bonds and fight back tears of helpless rage, an opaque helmet with a grinning mouth beneath shoves right up to your sweating beet-red masked face. Rough fingers pinch the stiff thumb-sized teats of the stupendous milkblimps ballooning around the column. "Naw, what she needs is a big hard dick."

"Six big hard dicks."

"Like always!"

And out they pop from the armor: rampant and ready as always. The smallest the size of a banana. Happens every darned time you keep having to remind yourself that one of the reasons you wear (well, sort of) this silly excuse for a costume is that it's so much easier to beat up crooks when they're hampered by big crotch-bulging hard-ons. Those third arms really get in their way almost as much as these gigantic tits always get in yours. Trouble is, all too often they get in your way too, and other places as well.

Warm breath in your ear, as a callused hand caresses a bulging bare asscheek: "And you can keep on strugglin' all you like, Mighty Cow we tested these chains between a pair of 18-wheelers, and they couldn't pull one of ‘em apart!"

"Awww, we're makin' her cry!"

Your tears of rage and effort finally spill out from under your mask. Teeth clenched around the loathsome mouth-filling rag (squeezing out piss to dribble down your throat), you strain at the impossibly strong chains, till sweat and trim super-powerful muscle pop out all over the vast stretches of smooth creamy skin left bare by your micro-costume. Bad enough being humiliated and degraded in private, but to be bound and gagged and groped and mortified before an audience !

And to top the humiliation off: you're at full strength a little tired but you haven't been soaked or gassed or anything!

Wearing a single big nasty grin under their helmets, the Chain Gang moves in. You aren't quite preoccupied enough with your bonds to suppress a whimper of fear just a small one into the awful-tasting rag.

Not again! Dammit ! Please, please, nooo .

The roar of laughter makes you realize miserably that those words came out as a very audible wail of protest.

Two of the scumbags go to work on your gargantuan tits, ease their tautly and barely restraining straps aside to knead and squash the watermelon-sized hulks against the column between, then lean down to take the big stiff nipples in their teeth and bite hard. Masked eyes squeezing shut, you groan helplessly around the vile mouth-filling underpants.

A hand worms its way between your hip-booted thighs through two coils of the chain to grope your pussy, already swollen and wet with battle-lust. A finger insinuates itself into that creaming snatch, making you stiffen with a gagged moan and writhe against the column.

"See, Mr. Zillionaire? She loves it!"

D-d-don't let them distract yooooooo! Work these chains!

Every sinew burns, every muscle bulging around the wire-taut bonds aches. But they won't give, they won't give .

Suddenly the massive stone column, cold between your gargantuan globes and against your gut, cracks in your armgloved embrace.

Hey, the chains might be unbreakable, but not the pillar!

Feeling like Samson, you push against the support, feel it give a bit. Super-Stupe, you could've snapped this thing easily if you hadn't wasted so much of your strength "playing" with these scumbags!

Then, from behind: "Fuck this touchy-feely shit, I'm goin' for the gold!"

Hands yank apart the chains encircling your lavish naked cheeks

and what feels like a baseball bat slams up your puckered asshole!

You throw your cowled head back and scream into the filthy gag, then grunt shrilly like an Amazonian pig as that humongous baton proceeds to give you the buttfucking of the week no, the month! It hauls out and plunges in again and again, each powering thrust wringing a humiliated squeal from your drooling rag-stuffed mouth and blowing fire up your gapingly distended anus!

The scumbag audience cheers and applauds raucously.

You howl and squeal into the cheek-bulging underpants, and give one final frenzied heave with every last ounce of hysterical strength left in you

and the 2-foot-thick column snaps like a breadstick in your embrace!

"Jeez !"

"The roof!!"

Which comes crashing down in an avalanche of concrete blocks and clouds of plaster, burying both you and the Chain Gang. The upper half of the column topples across your broad bare back slamming you to the floor beneath it and a falling hunk of concrete the size of a microwave rings your belfry but good.

And then silence, like after a bomb explosion. Dazed, pinned under the column with the pillows of your monstrous soft mammaries cushioning your face, you just listen to it for a moment. Then rouse yourself, shake your cowled head, pull the befouled underpants from your mouth (coughing up a few drops of yucky piss), brace your leather-sheathed arms under you

and really have to heave and grunt to do even a single push-up and roll that obelisk off your back!

Then the massive column pins your thighbooted legs, so you have to struggle and strain some more to drag yourself out from under it.

You stagger to your feet, balanced precariously on spikeheels, so weak and exhausted you stumble and almost fall again. The big room, now much bigger, is filled with rubble and dust, pierced by bright shafts of light from windows in what had been the floor above but is now a loft. Parts of the Chain Gang are visible underneath the debris. A few moan. All are unconscious, saved by their armor from being crushed.

Too bad.

Way more importantly: Jonathan Hard is unharmed. You follow the sound of coughing through the dust to where the chair he's tied to lies on its side. With a grunt of effort, you haul him upright again, "accidentally" shoving your double dirigibles into his face. You smile tiredly at the way his eyes bulge. He's always so suave and debonair in public that it's kind of fun to see him lose his cool over a pair of naked pumpkin-sized breasts like yours.

"My God, they're huge!" He swallows and coughs some more while, too weak to just tear his ropes off, you untie him.

"And they really get in the way sometimes." You help him up but he stumbles against you and you both stagger back against a wall. Your colossal milkbags mash against his chest and balloon up into his dirty face. His tux's shirtfront tickles your hard bare nipples.

"Oops, better cover up." A teasing wink. "Won't take a moment."

Straightening, you stretch the costume's straps out over your gigantic jugs, carefully centering them over the big nipples though of course the dark silver dollar-sized aureolae still swell out on both sides of the narrow thongs.

"Savage Fury, are you all right?" he asks, voice full of concern. Even covered in dust, he's way more handsome in person than on "E News Daily" or the newscasts. And that deep velvety voice of his not to mention an impressive erection tenting out his crotch does things to your pussy that you wouldn't have thought possible so soon after being bound, humiliated and cruelly buggered.

At least that scumbag didn't blow his wad up between your cheeks, this would be extra-embarrassing with jism dripping down your legs from your asshole!

Too bad Jonathan is happily married to the gorgeous and sexy Jennifer Hard. You flick a leatherclad hand and reply airily, "Oh, trashed thrashed and crashed, but I'll be okay in an hour or so."

"I mean, if any of the others had regained consciousness "

" Then we'd be in deep shit. But when Savage Fury puts ‘em down, they stay down."

With a casual glance downward at his groin: and when Savage Fury gets ‘em up, they stay up!

You manage a reassuring smile and allow yourself to sag in exhaustion. "Right now, to be honest, I couldn't outwrestle a chipmunk."

That's it, show him your vulnerable side. Maybe they have one of those Modern Marriages .

Ooops, getting into dangerous waters, Superjugs. Better concentrate on business.

"As for these scumbags "

You pick your spikeheeled way through the piles of rubble to the stump of the pillar, and gather up the chains. You hear him follow, and prepare to decline any offers to help bind the Chain Gang you are the super-professional here, after all.

Then you glimpse his shadow behind you, and it looks like he's holding the chair over his head.

And you've only begun to raise one shoulder-gloved arm and turn when the chair comes smashing down across your broad shoulders and cowled skull! You stagger back with an astonished cry, trip over some rubble and go down ker-plump! on your big bare reamed ass.

To sit there stunned in more ways than one goggling in numb disbelief as the man you just rescued from the most vicious gang in the city comes toward you, reaching out.

Dazed and disoriented, you expect the handsome millionaire to help you up with profuse apologies and explain why he did that. So you reach out an armgloved hand but he slaps it away and his last stride becomes a brutal kick to your jaw that lays you out with a scream! Your colossal tits fly up into your masked face adding their own massive one-two punch ("unh-ooh!!")!

You get your leather-sheathed arms beneath you to struggle up but his fashionable wingtip slams into the side of your cowled head ("UGHH!!") rolling you onto your side. You glance back at him in total shock.

"What are Mr. Hard, Jonathan, what's no, please!"

Frantic now, awash in confusion and pain, bells ringing in your skull, you crawl away from him. Try to drag your aching awesomely overblown body across the rubble-littered floor but it feels like you have a battleship strapped to your back! Each of your pendent blubber-boulders weighs tons and your eyes won't focus.

The millionaire follows you like some implacable monster in a nightmare. He waits until you try to get up again then fits an exquisitely-shod foot between your lavish quaking buttocks and pushes hard, sends you reeling forward pell-mell to crash head first into another stone pillar ("unhhh!!"). You slide to the floor with your shoulder-gloved arms thrown about it, hugging it like a refuge.

Which it isn't. When he takes a fistful of your crimson ponytail and hauls you up, all you can do is flap your leather-sheathed limbs and squawk like a parrot. He blasts a rabbit punch to the small of your muscular back stiffening you with a grunt, then hurls you against the column again, cracking your leathern skull and bouncing back to sprawl at his feet.

Staring up at him through tear-bleary domino'd eyes.

The first thing you notice from this angle is that he's living up to his name and then some.

Is that a tent pole in your pants or are you just glad to beat me?

The second thing is his big white perfectly-capped grin when he bends down to clutch your massive soft mammaries. Your gorgeous face twists and gloved hands grasp his wrists without strength as those brutal fingers sink knuckle-deep in all that burgeoning megamelony milkfat.

"What do you know?" he marvels. "They are all real! Didn't think it was possible."

He lifts you by your ponderous pontoons, stretching them stupendously and wringing a long shrill squeal from you.

"Always liked big tits," Jonathan Hard remarks as, holding you by a gigantic agonized jug, he casually slaps your sweaty masked face back and forth. "But these are light-years beyond ‘big'!"

"UNH OOO AWFF AGH!"

You bring up an armgloved fist but he clenches his fist till it all but disappears in your titanic resilient boob ("ggggGGhh!!") and slams his knee up into your tender gaping twat. Drives your pussy into your stomach (at least that's what it feels like) making you scream breathily. Your thighbooted legs go limp and you drop to your knees before him. The tautly tented crotch of his tailored double-knit slacks is right in your battered face.

Remember how you yelled at Walt for spending so much money on slacks just like that a month's worth of groceries!

"This is what we like," he chuckles, "an arrogant elephant-uddered superpig kneeling before us, ready for action."

"P-please," you whimper up at him, licking your swollen lips. "Why are you "

"Doing this?" He takes your cowled head and slams it onto his kneecap ("UGHH!!"). "Don't disappoint me by being naïve after all, Fury."

He knee-blasts your masked face again ("OOOFF!!").

"I'm not made of stone except in part." He chuckles. "Dressed like you are undressed is more like it, and most spectacularly a man would have to be a gelding to watch you flaunt your overblown charms and not get totally turned on: all that fighting and kicking and shaking these monstrous tits and this outrageous ass then letting yourself get chained and buttfucked. A magnificent show! That crook was right your performance is worth the ransom. But it's far from over.

"That was just the Prologue to Act One."

He takes your cowled head in both hands. "You see, I'm no gelding."

And rubs your face into the strainingly erect proof. "Nooommppffff!!"

"Oh yes, please beg, that'll be the frosting on the cake!"

You can tell that by the way his big cock hardens against your nose as you protest into his crotch.

But you manage to push him back not nearly as far back as you'd like (say, the moon). Your arms are like noodles encased in concrete gloves and your eyes keep blurring. He backs up a few steps, watches you climb painfully to your feet to sway unsteadily on their 5-inch spikes.

You were stupid to have played with the Chain Gang for so long!

"I I should've let them k-keep you," you stammer, wiping a leather-sheathed forearm across your drooling mouth.

He nods happily. "Believe me, I'm glad you didn't. Being rescued by one of the male super-types would've been so boring."

You lunge at him with a cry of rage, swinging an armgloved fist able to punch through concrete. He sidesteps nimbly and, as you stumble past off-balance, buries a short hook in your gut. You double over around that fist whoffffing a blast of breath and spittle, teary eyes bulging from their mask.

But instead of following though, he dances away. Goes into an parody of a boxer's stance, dukes up and chin back. "Fisticuffs! A wonderful idea!"

He prances towards you like a 19th century bare-knuckle brawler. A faint voice tells you to get the hell out of there, but you tell it to shut up you're Savage Fury and you don't run from a fight, especially with a

"Sick, perverted sonuvabUGH-OOOH!" Your cowled head jerks back twice at a quick pair of vicious jabs to your lush lips.

"What does it take to make you bleed?" he demands.

You didn't even see them coming! This creep's taken boxingGllghh!!

When, dazed, you're slow to back away, he rifles a brutal fist wrist deep into a massive jello-pumpkin and dances away from a clumsy grunting return, then blasts your jaw left, right, then left again ("OOH-UGH-ULKK!!") with a lightning combo that explodes stars in your eyes.

You've got to hold on until your superpower comes back. Shouldn't take long .

"You're a disappointment, Fury," he says sadly. "Obviously, without strength you're just an overblown Amazonian bimbo who can't fight worth beans."

The regret and smugness in the millionaire's voice enrages you even further. With a growl, you charge him blindly! Only to have him take you by your mountainously vulnerable tits and fall onto his back as he brings up an expensively-shod foot, jams it into your gut,

and throws you over him in a wailing arc, your astonished scream cut off when you smash cowled-head-first into a wall

rendering all questions of returning strength instantly, and darkly, academic.

But you aren't totally unconscious. You can dimly feel what's going on outside your personal black realm. Your leather-sheathed arms are jerked together across your broad bare back, then those darned chains wound tightly around their forearms and noosed about your neck. When you are taken by the ponytail and dragged on your belly across the rubble-strewn floor, you feel every sharp piece of rubble broken glass, wood splinters, concrete that digs into the gigantic soft jugs spreading vastly beneath you.

You decide to rest here for awhile, until you hear him turn on a faucet and fill a bucket or something with water. Then you struggle frantically to consciousness.

If he tries to wake me by soaking me down, I'm really in trouble!

You moan and manage to rock about on the floor, onto your back.

At least he hasn't gagged me is that good?

You feel your massive doughy chest boulders flop heavily around your ribcage.

Hasn't tied my tits either.

Your fleshy jiggling struggles work. The faucet is turned off and the bucket put down. Footsteps approach.

He left the bucket! Maybe this won't be so bad.

A foot kicks your cowled head rolling you over onto your side with a yelp. "Open your eyes, bitch."

When they focus, it's on those high-priced shoes of his standing a few inches away from your bloodied masked face. You don't know the label you don't shop in that part of town let alone those stores.

"Nice shoes, aren't they?" Tired of that big mocking grin of his, you don't look up.

When you don't answer right away, he boots your head again and you grunt. More blood in your mouth. It almost disguises the foul taste of the piss from the underpants the Chain Gang used to gag you.

"See how dirty they are?"

You just lie there. The toe of his shoe turns your head to stare up at him, masked eyes shiny with tears.

"Are we going to be stubborn? Or just naïve again. By now you know the punishment for naïveté."

Your immense shimmying boobs lie one atop the other like half inflated beachballs. He steps down on a hard thumb-sized teat, grinds that rubbery dowel beneath his heel. Your face twists behind its mask ("ngggggg!").

"See how dirty?" he prompts.

Tasting bile, you nod miserably.

He steps off your sore swollen nipple and waits. You test the chains binding your gloved forearms still unbreakable. And what's worse: the way they're wrapped around your neck tightens the noose, choking you.

He notices your gasp. "I am an inveterate bet-hedger, Fury. Those chains may not in fact be unbreakable, but believe me you'll have strangled yourself long before they snap."

After a moment, you wriggle on your side over to him, like some awesomely voluptuous eel. Careful not to pull on those chains.

"In the Marines, they call this a spit shine."

I know what they call it, you sonuva

You stick your tongue out and, grimacing, give the toe of his right shoe a tentative lick. When he doesn't move, you squirm ultra-fleshily forward and, stifling a sob, lave the side, then the heel. You taste dirt. Small sharp shards of concrete dig into your naked side and muscular flanks.

"Wouldn't you rather I did this on my knees?" you ask.

He stomps his saliva-smeared shoe down onto the back of your leathern head, grinds your masked face into the ground till you wonder if your nose is broken.

His voice is gently reproving. "No one gave you permission to speak, cow."

Sniffling, you go back to humbly licking his shoes. You lap at the right one, then the left, till your mouth is filled with dust and you gag on the dirt and humiliation.

Finally, when he's satisfied with your degrading tongue work, he takes your ponytail and pulls you groaning onto your thighbooted knees. You choke when your chainbound arms jerk the noose about your throat tight.

And there It is again, tenting his crotch enormously now. "He wants to join the party," Jonathan Hard points out, unnecessarily.

You shake your cowled head. "N-no, no way, I I won't UNH!! OOO!!"

As by your crimson topknot he slams your face onto his knee, and again. "Not unless spoken to, I thought I'd made that clear."

He releases your hair and your leathern head slumps forward. Masked eyes closed, you wait to hear the zipper sliiide down but nothing happens. You open your eyes just a crack to see his gleamingly clean shoe tapping impatiently.

"Well-ll?" he demands. But makes no move to his hugely-tented zipper. It just bobs there in your face like a bowsprit.

You lick your lips. He smiles approvingly.

"C'mon, Fury, just for once use your ingenuity instead of your tits!"

You choke back a sob but a tear trickles down your filthy cheek as you lean forward and take his zipper tab in your teeth.

"Very good!"

Slowly, you pull it down. Pubic hair tickles your nose and the tiny tongue slips free and, hastily, you bite it again. Cringing, you have to nudge his awesome erection to one side with your cheek so you can get the zipper all the way down.

Like cuddling up to a police baton.

A curving baton that leaps out and slaps you across the chops. You jerk back with a sharp squeak of surprise. And stare in horror at the great rhino horn projecting from the open zipper.

"Rufus, I want you to meet the famous, the superheroic, the one-and-only Savage Fury. You're going to be best friends, very soon."

He tilts your cowled head up by your drool-slathered chin. "Rufus means ‘redhead.'"

You swallow, run your tongue over opulent smashed lips. "Ah, now we're on the same page! If half of what I've heard is true, this is far from the first of these you've met on similar terms."

Far, far from it! But but

It's the first you've seen with its glans pierced by a pair of diamond studs!

From somewhere deep, you dredge up feeble defiance. "You you bastard, if you th-think I'm going to to suucKKLLLGGHH--!"

Steadying your cowled head with both hands, he makes the point moot by ramming his huge dick all the way home in one brutal stroke, stretching your plush mouth so wide its lips all but disappear. You stare in cross-eyed shock and gag on the immense veined slab of rigid gristle, its balls nestling against your chin.

He stares too. "Even my wife can't do what you just did, Fury. Are you a sword swallower in your secret identity?"

You just kneel there, mouth crammed full of colossal cock, and breathe loudly through your nose. The studs tickle the back of your throat the way far back. It feels like they're in your stomach. More tears leak down from beneath your mask.

"Oh, don't " Jonathan Hard chuckles. "I almost said ‘don't take it so hard'."

But you do, as usual.

That's when the sirens fade in from the distance.

Never thought I'd be so happy to see the cops! You sick pervert, you're gonna pay! And I don't mean a fucking reward!

The millionaire frowns. "I hate to rush things. Like the movie said, ‘Never a quickie with you, always a longie.'" Thoughtfully: "But I certainly can't face the press with an erection like this, understandable though it would be. So ."

Hurriedly now, he starts to pump his mammoth member into your taut-stretched mouth, so hard it bangs your head against a pillar behind you. ("unh guh uhff glgg kukkh!!")

Your shoulder-sheathed arms are so tightly chained they can't help but pull on the noose, strangling you as the handsome creep fucks your beautiful face and slams your skull back into the column ("OOOF NNG UMPF GUGH!!")

The cowl's snug leather provides no padding at all. Pretty soon the gyrating world fades, lit with by-now-familiar stars as your consciousness is battered and choked and mouth-fucked away.

And then he adds the gushing coup de grace, drowning what's left of your awareness in a river of cum that pours down your throat and spouts out of your raw reamed lips and all over you.

Two silly thoughts follow you sputtering and gagging down into the darkness:

Aren't enemas supposed to go in the other end?

Just be glad it didn'tttttttt .

Paige awoke in bed, so disoriented that for a moment she wasn't sure if that had been the dream or this was. The room was dark and she'd sweated through the sheet again; it clung like wet tissue to her gigantic jugs. She smelled her perspiration and felt her trembling and knew this was real.

Walt was asleep next to her. She enjoyed watching him sleep. Despite the bushy mustache and bald spot on top, he looked like an innocent young boy which was what he was, in so many ways.

At least compared to you.

He looked so sweet and trusting, and because she was sorry for the way she'd snapped at him tonight, and because he was leaving tomorrow morning

(and to pull herself out of the megrims)

and because that dream left you more than a little turned on!

Paige gently, carefully climbed astride him and dangled her monstrous mammaries in his sleeping face, juust brushing his cheek with her big hard nipples. Then poked each hard thumb-sized teat into his lips as breathing pushed them in and out, then his eyes, barely touching .

As usual, he awoke from the bottom up. She felt his cock stir against her already-wet and swollen pussy, then his nipples hardened along with it, his lips smiled soft and dreamy, and last of all his eyes opened and widened

and so did she.

When it was over they cuddled for awhile till he fell asleep again. Walt was a gentle and considerate lover and a world-class cuddler. That was one of the big reasons she'd gone with him over all the macho studs who'd panted after her at the company where they'd worked and met. A lot of them had fucked her brains clear out of this galaxy, but none could cuddle like Walt.

It hadn't been as good as she'd wanted for his last night home. She just couldn't go down on him, no matter how much she tried. He had a wonderful cock not as big as some (especially the super-villains she tended to run into) but he knew how to use it in her. Tonight, however, the thought of putting any man's meat in her mouth just made her cringe. He hid his disappointment well and so she managed to get him up a third time and took the initiative, held him on the edge for a long time before tumbling them both over.

But, hard as she had worked, no sleep followed for her.

When his breathing regularized and the scent of their mingled sweat and cum filled her nostrils, she sat there propped up against the pillows in the darkness and hugged her knees to her gleaming chest-pumpkins and shivered.

The first thing Savage Fury had seen when she came to and felt her full strength back again and the chains gone was Jonathan Hard's grinning face. He was standing not far from her not nearly far enough.

The moon wouldn't be far enough, you mouth-fucking !

She surged to her thighbooted feet with a cry, ready to tear his handsome head off! Then froze, seeing for the first time all the smiling cops around them. In the background, the Chain Gang was being carried out on a line of stretchers.

The Cowled Crusader blinked in confusion as the cops surrounded her, as usual ogling her massive near-naked milkbags and (definitely not as usual) showering her with enthusiastic congratulations on a job well done!!

Usually, they just ogled and played with their bulging crotches and made sniggering remarks.

Her confusion quickly became astonishment. Jonathan Hard, it seemed, had been going on and on and on about how valiantly she'd battled and beaten the Chain Gang. "This gorgeous and gallant Amazon even kept the last one from killing me, then managed to free me before succumbing to the effects of the beating she'd selflessly endured on my behalf."

Which made it sound like the Chain Gang had spent most of the time knocking her around, instead of vice-versa. But he was so obviously pleased at her rescue that there wasn't a thing she could say in reply (at least he didn't mention the chains and ass-rape). She had to stand there and take the praise of the cops, and a few minutes later all the reporters with their manically-flashing cameras.

While Jonathan Hard stood there and beamed and beamed, his eyes a-twinkle with merry mischief that only she picked up on and somehow Fury had the feeling that was the point: it was a secret between them. Until, of course, the reporters pushed them together, made her put her shoulder-gloved arm around his waist, all but suggested he heft one of her humongous boobs. The camera flashes went wild, blinding her and dazzling everyone else.

So no one saw the hand he casually slipped down behind them while they posed and smiled, to stroke her great naked asscheek and run a finger into the deep crevice between those soft gleaming bastions.

Like a damned pet! She remembered. And there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it in front of all those reporters and police!

Keeping her masked face carefully composed (her smile felt stitched in place) Fury glanced sideways and down at him he was about 3 inches shorter than she in her 5-inch heels. Into wide jovial eyes that watched her and appraised her as the humiliating hand familiarized itself with every sleek bursting contour of her full-blown ass, and she just stood there tasting his cum and smiled and smiled.

For the cameras.

And raged inwardly, wanted to tear him and his smug superior grin to pieces!!

But took it.

Even the finger that probed ever-so-slightly up her still-sore anus, just to the first knuckle .

Even the parting still-discreet cheek slap when it was time to go. Not a hard one. Nowhere near as hard as some of the butt-poundings she'd received, stretched over the laps of her scumbag foes, reduced to bawling like a baby while they spanked her outsized buns and she kicked thighbooted legs (and even now, in the safety of her own bedroom, blushed furiously at the memory). It was just a playful indulgent smack that, a full week later, still burned on her big ass like a brand (and you sure know how that feels!).

A very full totally crazy week later. The kidnapping and rescue made banner headlines in all the LA papers and was the lead in all the local newscasts. Dan Rather and Peter Jennings even led off the national news with it. A week in which Jonathan Hard was everywhere, doing interviews and sound bites and film clips, on Regis & Kathie Lee and Good Morning America and Leno and Rosie O'Donnell (tho not Oprah, her favorite), tirelessly proclaiming Savage Fury's bravery and heroism everywhere.

The award was even his idea, and when the mayor (a rigid conservative, notoriously anti-heroine) balked, Hard used every form of pressure to maneuver him into going along. When you're as rich as Jonathan Hard, that's a lot of pressure. The mayor still resisted but the rising tide of public acclamation and one long private meeting with one very insistent multi-multi-millionaire backed him into a corner.

-2-

"And now this stupid ceremony!" Savage Fury groused to Justice Juggs and Scarlet Dragon the next day. They were gathered in Silk Stalker's office, their unofficial HQ even when Raven O'Rourke was out of town, as now.

"Which, by the way, we'll be late for if we don't get a move on," Scarlet Dragon remarked with a glance at her watch.

The Oriental bombshell stood up and stretched her long spectacular body in its leather straps and netting. The gigantic breasts that threatened to crowd one another off her slender awesomely overloaded ribcage quivered in expectation.

"Better never than late," Fury muttered. She sounded childishly petulant, even to herself.

From where she sat perched magnificently on the corner of Silk's big scarred desk, cowgirl hat cocked back on her leonine blonde mane and a muscular booted leg artfully dangling (giving Fury a glimpse of golden bush up her fringed microskirt), Justice drawled, "Darlin', you still haven't told us what the problem here is. This's the best thing that's happened to us supergirls in, well, ever."

Dragon stood. "Yeah, Red, what's with you, anyway? For the first time since I got started in this business people are looking at me with respect instead of just ogling my tits and ass. You're a real authentic super-hero, we all are thanks to you, and now you wanna screw it up!"

The Cowled Crusader turned appealing eyes to Justice Juggs, who just shrugged. At that point she almost told them what had really happened a week ago. But she was still too embarrassed. And besides, would it change the fact that they were right? Supergirls did have status now that they never had before, and all because of that scumbag Jonathan Hard and his lies.

That was wrong. She wasn't sure how exactly, but it was wrong.

What she also couldn't figure out was what he was up to. Despite all the hype in the last week he'd made no attempt at all to contact her.

Probably knew if he tried it, you'd knock him into next week.

Maybe he's sorry for what he did, and this is his way of trying to apologize.

But she remembered his big merry grin beaming down at her as he pumped his mammoth dick into her mouth the taste of his cum gushing down her throat and especially his discreet but knowing hand on her big ass as he proclaimed her bravery to the press, poking her aching asshole, stroking the lavish resilient cheek in such a horribly familiar, insinuating way .

Oh yeah, I can just imagine how he wants to apologize!

She clenched her gloved fist.

"Say, darlin'," Justice suddenly spoke up. "Are you maybe feelin' a mite, well, shy? I mean, about wearin' that costume out in public and all?"

Fury tried to make it look good, but she was glad the blinds were drawn and the light dim. "I I guess that's it."

Dragon threw up her gloved hands in disbelief. "Give me a break!" The spikeheels of her boots rapped loudly as she went to the window and parted the blinds to peer out.

Justice strode over to the Cowled Crusader and put a gauntleted arm around her wide shoulders with a reassuring smile. "Shoot, Red, we've all felt like that!"

"Speak for yourself," Scarlet Dragon said. "I wear what I wear. People don't like it, they can lump it. Or I'll do it for ‘em."

Justice ignored her. "It's nothin' to be ashamed of, especially with a body like yours!" Her floppy-gloved hand gave one of Fury's titanic strapped tits a sisterly squeeze. "Why, it'd be purely a crime to cover these big ol' beauties up. And we're crime fighters, right?"

"I guess we are." Savage Fury allowed herself a relieved smile.

Relieved they're swallowing your fib!

The Cowled Crusader hated lying to the women who were her closest friends in this weird other life of hers but then, it wasn't a complete lie. She did have more than a qualm about parading these ponderous heaving pontoons of hers around naked in broad public daylight not to mention the outrageously overblown and underclad rest of her. At night, fighting crime, it was different somehow.

Justice went to the closet. "Silk lets me keep this here for public appearances."

Smiling, she patted her burstingly butt-filled microskirt and the vest that barely contained her own swaying set of gargantuan milkbags. "I don't have a lot of pockets."

"Who does?" Dragon rejoined the party as Justice disappeared into the closet. "Sorry about the attitude, Red. I just it's nice to have people treat me like a person for once, instead of an overgrown set of tits and ass that takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'. Y'know?"

Fury nodded. She knew how that felt too.

Justice came out of the closet carrying a floor-length blue cloak spangled with golden stars. "All you have to do now is hope it ain't windy."

The Cowled Crusader took the gaudy garment and swung it over her broad bare shoulders. It tied in front at the throat and, by holding the hem, she could cover about 90% of the 90% of her that was uncovered. She liked it, even if it only solved the way-lesser of her two problems.

What it does is remove your last excuse.

Savage Fury took a deep breath that lifted her immense chest like a pair of dirigibles taking off. "Let's go."

-3-

" It is long past time for these valiant women, not just Savage Fury but Justice er Juggs and Scarlet Dragon and their super-sisters as well, to be accorded the recognition they have earned with their unceasing and selfless battle for law and order in this great city ."

Dazed by the dazzling sun and positively stunned by the even-more-dazzling acclaim, she stood in the cloudless blaze of the California noon, barely hearing the mayor's speech, barely seeing the ocean of faces that lapped at the steps of City Hall and filled the plaza all the way back to the towering Centennial Obelisk at the far end.

A dream, she kept telling herself. It's all a dream and you'll wake up and probably find yourself bound and gagged with a whole bunch of dildos coming right at you!

Before the ceremony, the mayor had been all smiles and cordiality when he met them in his office with Jonathan Hard. Scarlet Dragon's mouth had quirked at the warm and wet handshakes and the way his cold little eyes gloated over all three Amazons' magnificent bodies and humongous mostly-naked boobs. The millionaire surprised Fury by remaining cool and correct, merely thanking her again and saying she deserved this award and many others. The mayor, who couldn't get enough of her colossal cleavage, pumped her armgloved hand and babbled on and on. But those eyes of his had stayed cold.

Then there was the mob of press in the city hall rotunda, shouting questions like a cattle auction and blinding the super-bombshells with so many TV lights and camera flashes it seemed like one continuous glare.

And now this !

It was like being at a a rock concert or something. She stood balanced on her 5-inch spikes on one side of the mayor with Jonathan on the other. The vast crowd spilled out into the street, with cops on the periphery to control traffic. Justice Juggs and Scarlet Dragon sat to her left on folding chairs especially reserved for them with a single rose on each. Dragon had smiled cynically at that, but she held onto her rose. Justice as usual was all graciousness and smiles and enormous breasts. Fury wished she could be so professional and casual and un-selfconscious about everything she was letting hang out and jiggle with every gesture and movement.

Of course, the Masked Mammazon didn't delude herself about what the crowd was there for. The roar that went up when the 3 Amazon goddesses strode out onto the stage was awesome. Next day one of the tabs described the entrance thusly: "Their breasts began arriving at least 5 minutes before the rest of them." And when Fury waved to the assemblage the star-spangled cloak draped open over her gigantic taut-strapped milkbags and the half-revealed scarlet bush that frothed around her costume's V-bottom. The throng surged forward with a single mindless groan of mega-lust. It took all of Fury's will power not to quail back.

Headlines flashed through her mind: "SUPER-HEROINES GANG-RAPED TO DEATH BY HORDES OF SECRETARIES, OFFICE WORKERS AND HARDHATS DROWN IN LAKE OF CUM!!"

She'd been a lot more careful since.

When the shit hit the fan, there was so much it took helicopter blades to handle it all.

Pointedly ignoring Jonathan Hard when he stepped up to the podium and made his usual tribute to her bravery and daring and blah blah blah, Fury was idly watching a news copter that hovered overhead and wondering if she looked as sweaty as she felt and almost missed her cue. But suddenly the rostrum was empty and the handsome millionaire was smiling to her and she realized it was Her Turn.

Those famous notes from that old TV show crashed through her mind: DUM DA DUM DUM!

As she stepped up to the microphone, The Cowled Crusader prayed for a diversion, like that chopper diving on the crowd and strafing it or (much more likely) flying so low to get an overhead shot of her mountainous milkbags that its engine would drown out any stupid thing she might say. Because she couldn't think of anything that wasn't stupid.

To make matters worse, her head in its leather cowl felt like a chicken being roasted. Sweat streamed down through the canyon of her colossal cleavage like a river, while the perspiration that had been pooling in her armpits (right through the most powerful deodorant she could find) dripped down her sides and into her shoulder-length gloves. Fury's entire awesomely overblown body felt like a fountain of sweat under the cloak, but no way she'd get rid of it. Her mounded pussy's more intimate perspiration had already soaked the minuscule bottom, and made her extra glad for the podium's concealment below the waist.

And one last minor but oh-so-public embarrassment: the microphone had a short desk stand instead of one of those long gooseneck things, so to get close enough to speak into it Fury had to heave her gargantuan sweaty chest-blimps up onto the lectern. They landed with a mike-amplified thud that through the PA system sounded like a pair of crashing boulders.

The crowd applauded and cheered.

The Cowled Crusader didn't dare look around to see if Jonathan Hard's smile was wider. She knew it was. She just knew it.

So she was not only startled and horrified but also just the teensiest bit relieved when she got her (sort-of) wish, and the chopper overhead suddenly did swoop down on the crowd!

Fury had just cleared her throat and licked her lips (causing one man in front of the crowd to faint) when the copter's engine suddenly grew to a roar and everyone looked up.

The mayor began, "Someone tell that stupid fuck to "

Justice Juggs and Scarlet Dragon leaped to their feet, ready for anything

Savage Fury blinked twice

everyone else just stared

when the chopper began spewing tear gas bombs into the sea of people!

Fury snapped out of her daze as pandemonium exploded before her. Blinded and nauseated by the stinging gas, the great crowd stampeded screaming in all directions at once. The Cowled Crusader plucked up the heavy podium and was about to hurl it at the hovering bomb-coughing chopper's blades till she realized what a disaster a helicopter crashing amongst that surging, shrieking mob would be.

For a moment she didn't know what the hell to do, and glanced over at Justice Juggs and Scarlet Dragon. They and a bunch of overturned chairs were the only occupants remaining at the top of the steps. Looking as stunned as she had, the two magnificent Mammazons sat leaning drunkenly against one another, and Fury knew immediately something was wrong. She started towards them as nooses at the end of steel cable shot from the underside of the copter.

JJ and Dragon were lasso'd simultaneously, the colossal-titted cowgirl taken by the neck and the Oriental Amazon around her wasp waist, then both super-bombshells were yanked with twin choked-off squeals into the air. Fury squatted to leap up after them when a third steel lariat settled around her titanic heaving tits and jerked

tiiiiiiightttttt!!

"NooooOOOGGGGGGGGGGGHHH!!"

A grunt more like a pig's than a superheroine's squeezed out like vomit between the Thighbooted Thunderbolt's clenched teeth as the noose buried itself deep into the bases of all that massively joggling tit blubber, till the gigantic jugs looked like huge crimson pumpkins attached to her ribcage.

Barely attached.

And, like her limply suspended Mammazon compatriots, Savage Fury couldn't even grab a hold of the megamelon-strangling cable before she too was wrenched skyward with a scream, eyes bulging from their mask.

The pain in the stupendous superwoman's ponderous tight-noosed pontoons as they reddened, swollen nipples staring skyward, made thinking like trying to swim upstream against raging rapids of agony. The sun and sky wheeled crazily above her. Wailing, Fury thrashed at the end of her line like a fabulous hooked fish. She grabbed the cable to try to at least lift herself and ease the watermelon-squeezing loop but completed a circuit of some kind that sent a blinding blast of electricity through her entire writhing body, and made her gargantuan crimson glamorglobes feel like they were about to explode!

But the massive jolt cleared her pain-fogged brain a bit. The chopper had stopped throwing gas bombs, and she realized if it lifted her and JJ and Dragon much higher, they'd be too far up to drop safely even if they did free themselves (tho her dangling super-friends didn't look in any shape to try that, they weren't tugging at their lines or anything).

Too bad you can't fly!

But she could swing, and as the suspended titan-titted trio passed next to the Centennial Obelisk (a miniature Washington Monument), Fury kicked out her long thighbooted legs and managed to push off the spire's side, swinging herself over to Justice and Dragon. They really looked out of it: the colossal-chested cowgirl's masked eyes were half closed and her tongue lolled slackly, while Dragon hung doubled over around her waist noose like limp Amazonian meat.

The Cowled Crusader grabbed Dragon's taut steel cable and didn't get a jolt so she snapped it like a thread. Holding the limp superwoman with one gloved arm around her waist, Fury did the same to the thick steel wire choking Justice

then just let both stunned superbombshells drop. Nervously watched them plummet down down down . (It seemed like a mile though it was only maybe a hundred feet).

But she missed their landing because the chopper, as though in revenge for losing its prey, swung her against the Obelisk, slamming her mounded pussy into the spire at the top with a meaty wet chunk. It felt like someone had exploded a stick of dynamite up her snatch. Savage Fury shrieked and thrashed wildly (the pain in her monumental noosed by-now-dark-crimson milkbags completely forgotten)

so the helicopter did it again.

The impact this time was wetter and sloppier and the explosion of pain reached from her smashed pussy to the roots of her scarlet ponytail and the tips of her toes.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!"

Now the chopper carried Fury away from the 10-story column but the agonized awesome-bodied Amazon barely noticed. Sobbing, she curled up around her lasso'd stupendously-stretched ultra-udders, both gloved hands clutching her ravaged dripping twat.

So the copter ran her along the tips of the flagpoles that lined the City Hall plaza three to a side, and slammed her into each one.

One

by

one

then two three four five six.

Fury tried to lift herself with the cable, but all that got her was another numbing jolt of electricity. So the best the haplessly suspended Masked Mammazon could do was twist herself so her big bare ass took the bludgeoning blows as she was smashed into the poles in quick succession.

It still hurt. A lot.

"OOOF UNGGH AWLK UGHHH GAHH OOLLGH!!"

Then the sadistic whirlybird carried her back towards the Obelisk. But again, the electric shock seemed to clear her pain-wracked mind a bit. As she neared the column, she saw her cum splashed all over its pinnacle. And this time when she was swung into the pillar, the boulder-busted bombshell wrapped her leather-sheathed arms around that pole and held on, with every ounce of her fast-fading strength.

Which was still enough to bring the chopper up short when it tried to move away. The noose jerked tighter about the bases of her ultimate udders and Savage Fury grunted. The copter's engine roared and the taut steel cable thrummed with tension and a ragged wail of protest filtered through The Cowled Crusader's clenched teeth as the lasso was pulled outwards from her ribcage, straining her massive malleable mammaries through its way-too-small loop.

Till those monstrous milkbags were sttrrreeetttchhhed out into titanic crimson teardrops, a full 3 feet to their bloated nipples, and her wail had become a howl of agony.

But she held on grimly, praying the noose would slip off or the cable would snap or dearJesusLordGod something!

Finally, when she could stand the torment in her distended dirigibles no longer, Fury wrapped her mighty thighbooted legs around the pole and reached up to snap off the golden ball at the top of the pole. Aiming blindly through the tears of pain spilling from her masked eyes, she threw it as hard as she could at the demonic hovering copter, and (just her luck) hit the tail rotor.

With a metallic spannggg! the blades flew off. The chopper began to rotate, lazily at first then faster, and the agonizing tension in her titanic tits eased somewhat. Fury sighed in relief until she discovered that the whirlybird, no longer under the pilot's control, had begun orbiting the Obelisk. And her!

Winding the cable around her awesomely voluptuous body!

Jesus, not again!

OoooOOOOLLGGHHH!! Tooo tiiigght!

And, what was worse, it was slowly spiraling in towards her, great spinning blades flashing wickedly in the sun.

C-can't breathe!!

So just hold your breath till those blades chop you into super-lunchmeat!

The cable twisted around and around her, lashing her to the Obelisk like a human sacrifice. It dug deeply into the helpless Fabulous Fury's lavish curves till opulent tanned flesh bulged pneumatically around it. One coil looped around her mouth, jerking her head against the Obelisk and gagging her, and the next wrapped around her throat, strangling the struggling ultra-Amazon. Another nearly bisected her gargantuan doughy chest-pumpkins, made them look like 2 pairs of buttocks turned sideways and turned her breathing into short frantic gasps as her big ribcage constricted.

And so on, down the scantclad length of her magnificent body waist, hips, the tops of her thighboots, knees. Every time she managed to loosen the cocooning cable by expanding her colossal chest or giving her broad shoulders a mighty super-shrug, the circling chopper only jerked it tighter again.

And always, with each circuit, those whirling, scything blades inched inexorably closer.

Far below, the frantic Fury saw the tear gas clouds had dispersed and cop cars were arriving in droves. The plaza was filling again and everyone was staring up. And now she noticed that the windows of City Hall facing her were jammed with spectators.

Wonderful! An audience too! That always makes bondage and torment so much more meaningful!

The length of cable clamped like a bit between her teeth threatened to pull the corners of her lush mouth back to her ears and her poor ravaged milkblimps felt like they were going to be twisted off her chest.

And there wasn't a damned thing The Cowled Crusader could do.

The great rotor blades whooshed within inches of her titanic tightly wired tits. One more orbit .

"Jesus!" Scarlet Dragon yelled, staring up. "We gotta do something!"

"Not a damned thing we can do," Justice Juggs pronounced flatly. She interlaced her gauntleted fingers behind her and stretched, throwing her gargantuan milkbags forward to balloon vastly against and around their vest. Two onlookers came in their pants and another wet his.

Dragon took a sudden step back and JJ was barely able to keep her from falling. "Oooo, dizzy . What was that stuff?"

"Some kind of nerve gas. Woops, this is it."

On the next pass the chopper's rotor scythed across the swollen tips of her nipples and Savage Fury screamed at the explosion of pain. A few seconds later the craft swung around again

Fury took a deep blimp-inflating breath and squeezed her masked eyes shut

the great gleaming blade slammed into the boulderous sides of her monstrous bound mammaries

and snapped off!

Even as The Cowled Crusader howled in agony, her super-ears caught a comment from a City Hall onlooker: "Wow, talk about tough titties!"

Still tethered to the obelisk with Fury, the disabled chopper now began to spin crazily in the opposite direction, unwinding the steel cable from around the Cowled Crusader's monumental body. For a moment, she breathed a sigh of relief as her gigantic jugs were freed, at least from one bondage.

Then the gyrating copter's single remaining rotor blade slammed into the stone pillar below her, and snapped off.

Its engine screaming, the aircraft dropped like a stone. A very large, very heavy stone, plummeting toward the crowded plaza below,

that was still noosed to the bases of Fury's immense tautly purple chest-pumpkins. They'd gone numb in the last few minutes she hoped numb enough.

All the stunned suffering superwoman could think to do was grab onto the obelisk's pinnacle for dear life

and shriek when the cable jerked rigid and the loop felt like it would sever her massive much-abused mammaries from their moorings!

Suspended by the taut cable from the Thighbooted Thunderbolt's indestructible milkmountains, strrettchhing their tormented impossibly swollen whale-hulks below her waist, the chopper swung back and forth below. Fury wanted to cry "Look out below, my tits can't hold it much longer!" but all she could do was hug the Obelisk and wail.

"I don't believe it," Dragon gasped.

"Let's get these people out of here!" Justice exclaimed.

But for the first time in either magnificent mega-bombshell's life, it was very hard to get anyone's attention.

Until, that is, the dangling helicopter suddenly hitched down a bit and a shrill scream echoed from above.

The noose had now worked its agonizing way about halfway down her distended sweat-slick dirigibles, till it all but bisected the stupendous blood-red sausages they now resembled. They'd been stretched into gargantuan figure-8's but the top part of each 8 was getting smaller and the bottom was growing and swelling. Fury thought that her monumental milkbags had been tortured and abused in every way possible, but she knew she couldn't take

one

more

second

of

this

impossible tit torment!

Her masked eyes blinded by tears and sweat, she prayed that the people far below had gotten out of the way

because with a wrench the massive whirlybird pulled its agonizing lasso free, and plunged to the ground with a crash. Suddenly freed, Fury's battered and strained wonder-watermelons snapped back a little about to her navel. But the humongous heroic milkbags still sagged massively and sadly out of shape.

Fury clung to the Obelisk and whimpered. It wasn't till a real news helicopter buzzed her that she started the slow, aching climb down.

-4-

"Will somebody explain to me what that was all about?" Fuming, Scarlet Dragon paced furiously from one end of the mayor's office to the other.

"Someone tryin' to rain on Fury's parade," Justice Juggs theorized. "Mebbe more of the Chain Gang."

She sat on the couch with Savage Fury, gauntleted hands massaging The Cowled Crusader's enormous aching tits. Fury could've done it herself, but she liked the feel of the super-cowgirl's leatherclad fingers on her poor ponderous pontoons (which, being resilient as well as gigantic, were slowly resuming their normal watermelon-shape).

Well, maybe more than liked it. But this was neither the time nor the place. The mayor had graciously offered them his office as a recovery room, not a playpen and besides, there were cops right outside the door. Probably listening.

"Then why include us?" Dragon fumed. "My head still aches from that fucking gas! Not to mention the long drop!"

"And if it was my parade getting rained on, how come I didn't get any gas?" Fury asked. "Ooo yes, JJ, right therrre ."

"Well, according to the cops it was the roses they were soaked in some kind of contact drug that soaked right through our gloves." Justice kneaded the Masked Mammazon's doughy chest-blimps making her squirm. "They said there was enough of it to kill one elephant per rose."

Dragon snorted. "Talk about adding insult to injury. So I repeat: why us?"

Justice shrugged. As though on their own, her crimson-gloved thumbs waggled Fury's hard thumb-sized teats through the straps of her costume making the scarlet-tressed superwoman bite her lower lip.

"Y'know," Dragon said with mock severity, leatherclad hand fondling her own semi-covered pussy, "if you keep that up I'm gonna take one of those watermelons for myself. And I won't just play with it."

And despite any eavesdroppers, Fury might have proceeded down that path and quickly if at that moment there hadn't come a discreet knock. "Join the party," Dragon called out, and Jonathan Hard stuck his head in.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

"Not yet."

He stepped in, closed the door behind him. Didn't seem to notice Justice sitting next to Savage Fury massaging the Cowled Crusader's enormous mostly-naked breasts. Unperturbed, the colossal-titted cowgirl demurely folded her gauntleted hands in her micro-skirted lap.

"No clues from the helicopter wreckage," he reported. "The pilot was dead."

Fury gasped, leatherclad hand flying to her mouth.

I mean, he attacked us and all, and my boobs still ache, but even so

Justice reached a comforting arm around her broad bare shoulders.

"Well I'm not sorry," Dragon said. "Except I'd like to've been the one who did it."

"Dragon!" Justice admonished softly.

Gloved fists on her hips, the Scarlet Amazon faced the ponderous-pontooned paladin. "What you enjoyed being dangled a hundred feet in the air like the damned catch of the day? No thanks, I like my bondage and humiliation to be more private. If he'd been trying to make fools of us, he couldn't have done a better job! He's probably the one who drugged the roses, too!"

"The police are still checking the wreckage," Jonathan Hard broke in smoothly. "When they ID the pilot or find anything more, I'll personally make sure you get it."

"Thank you," Justice replied.

"And by the way, ladies as an apology for this fiasco, and by way of thanking Savage Fury for saving this day too, I'm throwing a small soiree Saturday night, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd attend."

The three gargantuan-globed super-goddesses shared a look. "Count me in," Scarlet Dragon said. "I've heard about your parties."

Justice Juggs nodded. "I'll check to make sure I'm free."

All eyes turned to Fury. A flush crept up her monumental near-naked body, from the cuffs of her thighboots to the collar of her cowl. But this time she was enn-oh-tee NOT going to be pressured into something she ab-so-lutely did NOT want to do, and WASN'T going to do, and .

"You'll be there of course," the millionaire said silkily.

"Of COURSE she will!" the mayor boomed, striding into the room. "She's the heroine of the day! Both days I'm proclaiming Friday Furyday and Saturday Savageday! Why, this little lady" there was ab-so-lutely nothing little about his eyes or the two titanic breasts they were staring at "saved hundreds of lives today at, if I may say so, great personal cost!"

"So what were we chopped liver?"

Justice elbowed Dragon in the ribs.

Trapped again outmaneuvered in public cornered,

Savage Fury muttered, "All all right, I guess I can't refuse."

Besides, there were going to be mobs of people there, and his wife. Besides besides, Jonathan and Jennifer Hard threw parties that were legendary: featured on "ET", "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" and in all the tabs. Valley housewife Paige Powers had always dreamed of attending one of these gala festivities and this one was being held in her honor!

You see? There really is glamor in this superheroine thing!

But if he so much as touches me, I'll pulverize him!

-5-

Okay, he's touching you, and you haven't pulverized him.

In fact, he wasn't only touching her, he was holding her in his arms.

But you have to touch to dance.

And he sure was a wonderful dancer.

As though in a movie, she pictured them from high above, amongst the dazzling chandeliers: Jonathan Hard and Savage Fury gliding together across the vast inlaid parquet floor of the great ballroom while everyone else, all the Rich and Famous, the glitterati and the glamorous, watched from the sidelines.

Like the First Dance between the King and Queen of the Prom.

She'd missed her high school prom, grounded by her parents as punishment for refusing to have breast reduction surgery. And she'd had the most wonderful gown to wear not one of those frilly silly prom frocks but a real adult evening gown, that would've shown off her boobs, which even at 17 were enormous.

The other dancers moved out onto the floor now as, resplendent in skintight silver, country-western superstar Polly Harden strode out before the orchestra (not a combo either, this was a symphony, with violins and everything). She took the microphone and began crooning one of her slow sultry mega-hits.

Scarlet Dragon drifted past them in the arms of a tux-clad hunk some football player, Fury thought. JJ of course had sent her regrets but she was here anyway, cradling the mike between elephantine breasts as she sang.

So you finally get to be Prom Queen, and show off your tits as well. Too bad it's not Walt with his arms around you, moving with you, the manly musk of his cologne in your

Too bad Walt doesn't even know you're Savage Fury!

But Walt isn't really a very good dancer, he hates dancing.

Besides, (something she hated admitting a lot more) she did owe Jonathan for rescuing her earlier in the evening. But the fact he'd had to rescue one of the world's strongest superheroines at all was as embarrassing as the situation he'd rescued her from.

But though she kept turning the whole stupid predicament over in her mind as she danced, The Cowled Crusader still couldn't decide how she could've handled it differently .

Fury had walked into the great brightly-lit mansion with Scarlet Dragon, but really she'd been floating on air. The last two days had been incredible! It was a good thing Walt was out of town, she'd barely been home the whole time, let alone out of costume.

Of course, even when you're in costume you're mostly out of it.

Furyday and Savageday had been the kind of nonstop adoration and heroine-worship she'd dreamt about when she got into this game and utterly despaired of in her darkest moments, soaking wet and beaten to gloved hands and thighbooted knees with one creep taking her up the ass and another forcing his huge dick into her swollen bloodied mouth.

She'd been interviewed for the 6pm and 11pm news, written up in all the papers (with photos above the neck for once!), feted and besieged for autographs wherever she went even Playboy called!

Dragon and JJ had gotten as much attention as she. JJ took it with her usual good-humored aplomb but the Oriental Amazon loved every minute of it. She dropped her cynical pose for the first time since Fury had known her and beamed like a kid while signing autographs and posing for the hordes of photogs.

And now this it was like a movie premiere where Fury was the star! All these Beautiful and Important People applauding her and Dragon as they entered the main salon!

Scarlet Dragon's eyes sparkled. "Now this is more like it!"

Justice had helped Fury get ready for tonight. They sprinkled diamond dust on her gigantic jugs to make them glitter, and affixed larger diamonds (real ones!) to the tips of her thumb-sized teats where they thrust impudently through their straps. But the biggest of all went to the "V" juncture of her costume bottom, where it gleamed on the bulging mound of her cunt.

"Flaunt it while you got it, darlin'," JJ had smiled.

She wore the sweeping cloak, which floated about her like a rainbow as she stilted dreamily in on her 5-inch spikes.

And was immediately swept up in greetings and introductions. She met Jennifer Hard, who was even more beautiful in person than on TV, and gracious at the same time.

Huh, I'll bet he never beat her up or forced her to suck his dick!

But she put that thought aside, it seemed small and ungrateful after everything Jonathan had done since, and especially in this gorgeous room with all these incredible people. Savage Fury felt like the Queen of England as movie stars and politicians and sports heroes, people she'd idolized and imitated all her life, crowded each other to meet her. Most of them couldn't take their eyes off the heaving chest-mountains that ballooned out around the straps. But heck, the Thighbooted Thunderbolt thought, that's what the glitter's for.

So she arched her back a little and just let the men ogle, and the women burn with envy.

Jonathan never gave them a glance. Neither did Jennifer.

And now, as they danced, he seemed oblivious to the billowing titans of tit-blubber that massed against his chest. They made it kind of difficult to breathe, but Fury didn't pull back.

The avalanche of greetings had finally ended and the assemblage broke off into smaller groups that drifted into other areas of the great mansion. Fury found herself wondering (perversely) how to get Jonathan to stop ignoring her outrageous udders. She told herself it was because only one other man had ever paid more attention to her than the monumental milkbags on her chest, and that was Walt. It was one of the reasons she had been attracted to him, and she didn't like having Jonathan Hard anywhere near Walt in her mind.

But you know the real reason, don't you, Cowled Crusader? Men who drool over your massive mamms are in your power and that's where you want Jonathan to be for once, instead of the other way around!

Making small talk while waiting for the music to begin, Fury felt a tap on her bare shoulder and turned to look down at the mayor's chief aide. He was a small pale man in antiquey Ben Franklin specs and he sweated slightly as he spoke to the enormous quaking endowments that stared him straight in the ears.

"The ah mayor would very much like to see you, Ms Fury? In the ah library? Something about showing gratitude."

The boulder-busted bombshell smiled her most gracious smile. "Of course."

My, would it never end?

She hoped not.

Fury excused herself from Scarlet Dragon and the Hards and followed the smaller man, aware that all eyes in the room followed her every swaying jiggling awesomely voluptuous move and for once enjoying it!

Flaunt it while you got it, superbabe.

-6-

The library was a great three-story cavern lined with books and furnished in dark mahogany, shadows and silence. Fury wondered if there were any normal-sized rooms in this castle. A big balding man, the mayor sat in a settee before a blazing fireplace big enough to stand in. He was smoking a fat cigar and reading a book.

Savage Fury strode over to him, the thick carpet muffling even her 5-inch spikes. "Mr. Mayor? You wanted to see me?"

He closed the book and lay it carefully at his side, peered up at the beautiful mega-statuesque Amazon. Took a meditative draw on the cigar. "Why, yes I did, Fury. I thought this would be a good time for you and I to have a chat. About gratitude."

Smiling, The Cowled Crusader made a deprecating armgloved gesture. "Please, sir, your gratitude is already overwhelming "

His voice cracked like a whip. "I meant, superslut, your gratitude!"

Startled, certain she couldn't have heard correctly, Fury blinked. "Ex-excuse me?"

His eyes, small and close-set, gleamed like polished marbles in a round smooth face so devoid of expression it might have been a mask.

"Do you think I did all this out of the goodness of my heart?" The politician's voice never rose above an icy murmur. "Or because I admire a whore like you, who flaunts her overblown body so brazenly under the guise of fighting crime?"

He snorted disgust at the very idea.

Thrown into utter confusion, the Masked Mammazon stood there towering over the fat politico in her thighhigh boots, gargantuan glittering tits like pink pumpkins before her, and stuttered, "Why, I uh, that is "

His voice rising now, the mayor pressed on remorselessly. "Do you think I've enjoyed the past week's depraved parade of licentious pulchritude by you and your top-heavy harlot friends? Can you actually imagine I deemed such lewdness beneficial to the city MY CITY??"

O how Fury wanted to get out of there! Turn with a disdainful sneer and high-heel away from this fat scornful bureaucrat! She ached to return to the bright happy world outside where she was a goddess and everyone loved her.

"Can you be so witless as well as shameless and wanton?"

But she just stood there, broad shoulders slumped, wilting before the freezing blast of the mayor's scorn. Her titanic tits actually sagged below her waist as though the blizzard of abuse clung and weighed them down.

And when she finally found her voice again, she wished she hadn't. It came out sounding like a chastised young girl.

"B-but, I thought I mean, Jonathan "

The fat man sniffed, regarded his cigar. "Hard overrates his influence in this city almost as much as he overrates you."

"Th-then ' why? I mean why did you "

The mayor's smile was frigid with contempt and triumph. "I arranged it all just so we could have this little chat in Jonathan Hard's own house."

Dumbfounded and speechless (and still not certain this wasn't a dream or joke of some kind), Fury waited. She had the feeling this nightmare was going to get worse. Much worse, the way they usually did.

There was a knock at the door. The pale aide standing there (and watching!) opened it a crack. He murmured to someone outside and closed it again. Fury wanted to shout, to yell, but did neither.

"I can make things very very tough for you and your half-naked trollop friends," the mayor went on, in words that fell like concrete blocks. "I can have you outlawed as vigilantes, arrested every time you show these watermelon-sized udders of yours in public."

Fury glanced down at her monstrous milkbags, wishing they didn't sparkle so brightly in the firelight. The way their tiny specks drilled shafts of brilliance through the smoke of the mayor's cigar made them look like miniature (not so miniature, actually) Roaring 20's glitter-globes.

"If I try, not very hard, I can find out who all of you are under your masks, and hound you out of the city."

She gazed into the politician's hard piggy eyes, saw again Scarlet Dragon's happy shining ones as she was feted and adored.

Even Justice is impressed with you now. What would you do to not lose that? Or not do?

She had the feeling she was about to find out.

"Or" Hizzoner made a disgusted face "I can have you recognized officially, sanctioned by the police as God help us officers of the law. It would make your positions in the city unassailable and certainly make your careers easier."

All of which was so obvious even to Fury that she didn't bother to nod. Her head weighed too much anyway, she could barely lift it to look at him.

"It'll also raise hell with the City Council and especially the police. So you have to make it worth my while. I don't do these things for free."

He blew a casual cloud of blue smoke up into her masked face that made her cough. "It's all up to you, supercunt. Time for you to show me that gratitude. In advance."

The Cowled Crusader's throat was dry, her lips felt cracked and caked despite all the gloss she'd slathered on. She smelled her own sweat, but the odor was not fear. It was something else, something she hated so much more.

Her voice was like a little girl's. "What what do you want me to do?"

A single word ricocheted about her leaden mind, echoing from that day with the Chain Gang: "Again again again again ."

The mayor might have been a statue. His small eyes bored into hers.

It really was up to her.

The boulder-busted superbombshell hesitated, then took the "V" of her costume bottom in trembling gloved hands and pulled it up between her heavy pussy lips. The big diamond glinted brightly as it nestled among the fleshy folds. Sweating, she squatted and spread her brawny big-cuffed thighs, opening the sumptuous scarlet-bushed treasure at their juncture.

The fat man shrugged.

The Thighbooted Thunderbolt swallowed a whimper of humiliation. She couldn't believe this was happening. Out there it was bright and gay and she was the super-powerful super-glamorous Toast of the Town. In here she was a 2-bit stripper in leather with tits bigger than bowling balls, putting on a private show for a fat bald sleezebag.

Who held her future, and that of her friends, in his pudgy hands.

A small rational part of her mind tried to temporize: You've done worse, and had much worse done to you! Concentrate on what you're buying with this this

Debasement. Degradation. That was the odor she was smelling.

But all that bondage and those rapes were in the line of duty! She couldn't help them! She was doing this to herself, for a fat slimy politician!

Also for JJ, and Scarlet Dragon and all the other supergirls out there. If they make you legal here, than others will have to go along: Metropolis, Gotham, New York, all of them.

The mayor's expensively-shod foot suddenly lashed out into her bulging exposed cunt. Fury gasped not at the stab of pain, she'd been kicked there much harder, not to mention butted and shotgunned and impaled on things you wouldn't think would even fit. But never so degradingly or chidingly. As though he merely wanted her attention.

"Perhaps," he murmured, "you're under the mistaken impression we have all night here."

Tearfully staring at the ceiling because she just couldn't bear to look at the fat monster, Fury pinched her heavy pendent fucklips in leathern fingers and pulled them apart, opening her deepest most intimate self, wide wet and pink, for his inspection.

Hizzoner's eyes glittered but when she glanced down between her stupendous boobs he wasn't leaning forward like she expected, hadn't moved at all.

The Mammazon Manhunter stretched her swollen labia wider. The mayor blew a cloud of smoke up her gaping oft-plumbed snatch.

He didn't even have an erection between those fat thighs of his.

Both sets of plush lips trembling, Fury closed her masked eyes and inserted two gloved fingers into her pussy as far as they would go. Squatting till her big ass spread over her boots' spikeheels, she sloshed them around in the hot pink oven. Couldn't suppress a moan.

A fresh puff of cigar smoke made her cough. When she opened her eyes the mayor was shaking his head slowly. There was just the slightest bulge in his expansive lap.

Again again again .

Willing her long spectacular legs to bend, the Battling Bombshell sank to her thighbooted knees before him. Knelt there a moment staring at that small horrid swelling. She'd seen lots bigger and more threatening but none more loathsome.

The sooner you get this over with .

She took a deep breath and reached into his lap to knead the hardening organ. It wasn't much, barely a semihard handful. This shouldn't be too difficult.

Think of Justice and Dragon. Do it for them. Silk Stalker would do it without a second thought and then make sure he returned the favor with interest. Besides, how many cocks have you had to suck for no reason except you'd just been beaten to shit by thugs?

Licking her luscious lips in a way she hoped was sexy but was just apprehensive, Fury began to pull the zipper down. Under the dangling masses of her doughy double dirigibles she felt his thighs tense.

Think like Silk Stalker: of Revenge, of beating this scumbag to a fat pulp, then taking him by his little dickie and

"UNH-OO-AH!"

Like lightning, a chubby hand cracked stingingly across her cowled loveliness once, twice, a third slap while the other gave a big down-pointing nipple a painful twisting yank that jerked its massive milkbag out a couple of inches, only to snap back again!

"NNNNNHH!!"

Masked eyes wide with shock, the astonished ultra-bombshell jerked up straight on her boot-sheathed knees. One hand flew to her cheek while a gloved forearm covered what little it could of her gargantuan boobs. Having impenetrable skin didn't lessen the pain of the blows or the mortification.

The pronouncement was flat. "Not mine, you disgusting sow."

Domino'd face burning, Fury knelt there before this fat slimeball, aching to tear him to pieces. Knowing she could bring this whole house down on top of him without breaking a sweat. Also knowing she didn't dare so much as blink.

He raised a hand, smiled at the way she flinched. Like a pale slender ghost, the bespectacled aide appeared from the shadows behind the sofa. Fury had completely forgotten about him. He'd been watching her shameful exhibition, that was obvious. Very obvious, from the huge bulge in his pants.

One hard-on out of two. Your average is slipping, Supertits usually you bat .1000 no matter how big the audience!

Eyes enormous behind their glasses, he settled next to the mayor. The kneeling Fabulous Fury didn't even have to pull down this zipper. She just unbuckled his belt and touched the tab and a cock the size of a police truncheon leaped out and up like an ICBM ready for launch, its warhead the size and color of a plum.

Fury swallowed. Leaned forward, dragging her pendent doughy pumpkins over the aide's thighs. His great upstanding organ fairly hummed with rampant readiness. She could make out each vein like a relief map; the great sac of balls, hairless as a boy's, was taut and already half withdrawn.

This guy was ready!

"Suck it, you elephant-uddered pig," the mayor cooed in her ear. "I've heard so many stories about your considerable oral talents."

Many stories?? O Godddd .

A quick sideways glance showed Hizzoner finally getting erect.

The leatherclad fingers Fury wrapped around the base of the aide's curving iron-hard flagpole didn't come close to touching. The trembling in his thighs sent little ripples through the massive milkbags that lay upon and all around them.

The Cowled Crusader couldn't help grimacing as she stuck her tongue out and gave the enormous manshaft a long slow wet lick, from base to bulbous head. Which was already tipped with precum. The aide groaned when she flicked the milky drop off with her tongue.

I may not have to do much sucking after all.

The mayor said, "If he ejaculates too soon or if you don't swallow it all, you'll have to start over. At another time and place, of course."

You miserable sadistic perverted sicko sonuva .

Running her gloved fingers along the great rigid fleshpole, Savage Fury kissed the bloated head making its pale owner squirm.

"Sit still, Jensen!" the mayor barked. He was removing his belt.

Fury took a deep breath. This thing was so big even nose-breathing might not work.

Here goes .

The kneeling ponderous-pontooned paladin wrapped her plush lips around the mammoth member's taut glans, thankful in a weird way for all the practice she'd had at this earlier in her career she could never have taken a hogleg this size into her mouth, let alone down her throat. But she'd learned a thing or three since.

Had them force-fed to you is more like it.

Slooowly, bit by bit, Fury lowered her widestretched mouth onto the awesome dong, felt the blood pulsing in the big blue vein. An inch another inch the taut knob bumped against the back of her throat so she had to lift herself onto her knees to reposition her throat .

Walt always said you'd make a great sword swallower. Or was it Jack Hammer?

So many cocks sucked, so much sperm gulped down no wonder you don't like salty food!

The blunt knob forced its way down her throat an inch, another inch and a tear trickled from under Fury's mask as she tried not to gag on it (His Perverted Honor would just love that). Jensen's small girlish hands gave the soft blubberbags spreading over his thighs a painful squeeze.

The mayor leaned forward and lashed his doubled-up belt across Fury's lavish outthrust buttcheeks. Her squeak was muffled by the immense cock that filled her mouth and throat to bursting.

Trying to ignore the mayor's avid presense behind her, she began to suck, lifting her whole cowled head off the mammoth tusk then lowering it again. Slowly. Like an oil pump of flesh and leather, up and down up and down . Plush lips forced In then pulling out .

Another stinging crack of the belt across her opulent bare ass, another cock-gorged squeak. Fury moved faster. Up-and-down, upandown, upandown .

Again again again again.

"Come on, Superpig, show us what you can do!"

Hizzoner placed both pudgy hands on the back of the Masked Mammazon's seesawing cowled head and pushed down hard. Normally it would have taken a falling building to drive her mouth onto that lip-stretching rhino horn. But she let him do it, knowing the alternative would be unbearable.

"Mmmpppfffff!!"

The huge schlong rammed past her gag reflex and into her throat, choking the awesome-bodied Amazon. She had to lift her leathern head to breathe and then let the mayor drive her gaping mouth onto Jensen's enormous hard-on again.

"Glggghhh!!"

And again .

"Gurflffh!"

And again.

"Kukkkh!"

None of them heard the door open or the carpet-muffled footsteps. So it came as a complete surprise to everyone the miserably spanked, tearfully cock-sucking Savage Fury, the swimming-in-ecstasy Jensen, and the sado-intent mayor when Jonathan Hard suddenly grabbed Hizzoner by the scant hair on the back of his head and threw him to the floor with a yelp.

"You bastard!" he bellowed. Then, mindful of the open library door, went on in a furious hiss, "My guest in my house??"

"But Jonathan " the mayor began.

The enraged millionaire slammed a fist down across the seated fat man's astonished face, sprawling him on his back with a grunt. He kicked him in the side. Then in the head.

To her surprised chagrin Savage Fury found it difficult to stop going down on the aide's enormous rampant tusk. Which despite the distraction was not softening a bit in her widestretched see-sawing mouth.

I mean now that it's, um, voluntary . This wasn't his idea, anyway, and and h-he does seem to be enjoying it. And it is a, a magnificent cock!

But Jensen, suddenly more concerned with his boss being soundly beaten than the cowled head bobbing industriously up and down in his lap slurping and sucking him like mad, had no such difficulties. He lifted his legs into the Cowled Crusader's titanic sagging milkblimps and pushed her back with a surprised squeak. She thudded down on her big bare ass before the fire. Just sat there, dazed and drooling, and watched him jump up not to help his battered boss but to flee, mammoth wang bobbing before him like a lipstick-smeared bowsprit.

By now the mayor was curled up on the floor whimpering, chubby hands over his face. Jonathan Hard stood over him, a firelit vision of wrath.

"Get the fuck out of here!" he raged. "And don't get comfortable in that office of yours, fatso if they run a hyena against you next election, I'll make sure he's elected!"

Hizzoner scrambled to his feet. "But but you, that is, we ."

The millionaire kicked his butt and the fat bloodied politico stumbled out. Paused at the door to throw an odd glance of supplication over his shoulder, then was gone.

Savage Fury, dazed, astonished beyond words at this grotesque rescue and left ragingly horny by the interrupted fellatio, just sat there with hard nipples big as corks in their straps and wet pussy gaping around the "V" of her costume bottom

and blinked. Twice.

-7-

"You dance very well in those 5-inch heels," Jonathan murmured. His breath tickled her ear.

"Thank you," Fury replied. "You're a wonderful dancer yourself, Jon."

It was well past midnight, and the party was beginning to wind down. The orchestra still played, soft and dreamy, but after her 3rd set Polly Harden had left (with a private wink to her). And she hadn't seen Scarlet Dragon since well, she couldn't remember. A couple of hours at least. Or, for that matter, Jennifer Hard. But it was a big party, and filled many rooms of even this enormous mansion. This orchestra was only the biggest of 4 ensembles playing tonight.

Or this morning my, but the evening has passed quickly! So much adulation, so much champagne, so much dancing!

Mostly in the arms of the man who'd beaten her up a week ago, and mouth-fucked her into unconsciousness .

And rescued you tonight from that fat pervert and his (incredibly well-hung) stooge when they tried to do pretty much the same thing!

And probably would've succeeded if this man hadn't intervened.

"Speaking of thank-yous " she began hesitantly.

As though reading her mind (a disturbing habit of his) he waved her unspoken words aside. "Forget it. It never happened."

With a world of rue: "I wish. He really had me mouse-trapped."

"I'm glad." At her masked look of astonishment, he added suavely: "I'd hate to think you do that sort of thing so casually."

Never casually, but way too often when I don't want to!

The millionaire added, "And don't worry about the mayor. He doesn't have the power he thinks he does. Next election he'll find that out."

She managed a smile. "Funny, he said the same thing about you."

Jonathan Hard just smiled back. A smile of such reassurance and confidence that Fury found herself snuggling a little closer to him. Her gargantuan doughy boobs swelled out to their sides, all but engulfing their arms.

The Cowled Crusader wasn't sure what to think any more. She felt so relaxed and even a little giddy from all the wonderful champagne (Jon had said it was a good antidote for embarrassment and he was right).

"That aside have you enjoyed yourself?" he asked her.

It seemed a silly question, but she could see he was genuinely concerned about her answer. Fury tried to put her pleasure into words, but finally just nodded.

"You know why I've done all this."

Eyes wide in their mask, she shook her leathern head. After the library episode, she wasn't sure what she knew any more.

He took a deep breath. "As a partial apology for last week."

She stiffened in his arms, pulled away. "Thanks so much for reminding me and I was having such a wonderful time."

Angrily, the Thighbooted Thunderbolt strode out onto one of the many balconies. The night air was suddenly cool on her awesomely voluptuous near-nudity, pebbled her titanic swaying milkbags with goosebumps. She shivered, wrapped shoulder-gloved arms around her bare shoulders. The distant city was a dim glow over the trees. The limo she and Scarlet Dragon had arrived in followed the drive for miles from the gates at the main road before reaching this mansion.

He must own thousands of acres!

Jonathan's voice came from behind her:

"More wonderful when angels are so angry.

Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,

Of these supposed crimes to give me leave

By circumstance but to acquit myself."

By a great effort, she kept herself from turning around or replying.

Right behind her now, so close she could smell his intoxicating cologne:

"Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have

Some patient leisure to excuse myself."

"That's Shakespeare, isn't it?" Fury turned to see his nod.

No one had ever quoted Shakespeare to her. Not even Walt; his idea of poetry was well, he didn't have one.

Stop thinking about Walt, that's Paige Powers and you're Savage Fury.

She'd never felt that quite so intensely as now.

Jonathan Hard went on:

"Your beauty was the cause of that effect-

Your beauty that did haunt me in my sleep

To undertake the death of all the world

So I might lie one hour in your sweet bosom."

Trying to resist being swept up by his fervent verse, Fury wasn't sure she'd caught most of that. But the last part definitely hit home, and rekindled her anger. "Before I let that happen again! I'd tear this all ‘beauty' off and throw it in your face."

For some reason, her hot reply seemed to please him.

"These eyes should not endure that beauty's wreck;

You should not blemish it if I stood by.

As all the world is cheered by the sun,

So I by that; it is my day, my life."

His intent gaze never left her masked eyes even when he mentioned her "sweet bosom" he didn't lower it to the massively jiggling pink pumpkins just below.

"Wait a minute," she managed, licking her dry lips, feeling the heat of him. "You're saying it was my fault you beat and mouthraped me? Because I'm so beautiful and, and desirable?"

"Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made

For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.

If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,

Lo here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword;

Which if thou please to hide in this true breast

And let the soul forth that adoreth thee."

Whereupon he pulled out a knife and offered it to her! When she just goggled at the blade, he took her armgloved hand and closed its fingers around the haft. Fury held it numbly. It was real, and sharp, and gleamed wickedly in the light through the doors.

He dropped to one knee, and opened his shirt front to bare a smooth well-muscled chest.

"I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,

And humbly beg the death upon my knee."

His head was below Fury's gigantic swaying chest-boulders but his eyes stayed steady on hers. And there wasn't a merry twinkle within a million miles of them. He was serious deadly serious.

Fury backed up a step, almost stumbled when one of her 5-inch heels turned. All she could do was shake her cowled head. The knife lay on the terrace; she didn't remember dropping it.

Jonathan Hard stayed on one knee, watching her intently. Light-headed and feeling as though she floated, the Masked Mammazon moved to him, took him by the shoulders so broad, so strong and lifted him to his feet. Surprised somehow that he weighed almost nothing in her super-powerful but gentle grip.

And afterwards she wasn't sure whose fault it was. But as he stood, her gloved hands slid up his arms and whether he moved or she pulled well, what mattered was she didn't stop them when his big hands splayed over her gigantic heaving breasts (a shiver ran the length of her towering ultra-voluptuous body) and she didn't resist when he pulled her to him by those soft humongous handles and when his lips touched hers it was like the closing of some circuit, and her tongue lunged out to meet his halfway

and that,

irregardless of Jennifer Hard or Walt or anything but the two of them and the lust that overwhelmed them both,

was that.

-8-

Hers was the only limo left when Fury stumbled out to the parking circle before the great mansion. The sun was just peering lewdly over the trees, its eye as red as hers felt. She stopped to make sure she had everything: gloves, thighboots, cowl, head.

No sense, that's for sure. And if I never fuck again, I don't think I'd mind much.

She rapped on the driver-side door to wake the chauffeur and climbed into the back, where she found Scarlet Dragon also sound asleep. The compartment reeked of champagne and cum. Dragon looked like she'd had a good time. Her disarranged costume bared an enormous dark breast (which was smeared with lipstick) and her pussy was still swollen enough to totally engulf the scant bottom in dripping pink folds.

Was it good for you too?

Admit it: yes.

Fury let her sleep. Sat across from the Oriental Amazon wrapped in her own tired brown study. The limo glided down the long drive. Dully, she watched miles of shadowy trees slip past.

Dragon stirred as they bumped out through the gate and onto the highway, heading toward the city. Reached an armgloved hand down and fingered her black-thatched pussy with a moan. Writhed a little murmuring "Oh, yeahhh, right there ." Normally, Fury would have found this arousing despite herself, but now she just watched.

The spectacular supergirl opened her masked eyes and realized where she was. Being Scarlet Dragon she didn't remove her gloved hand from her snatch, but (sometimes giving a damn about how it affected her super-partner) she did stop playing with herself.

"You don't have to stop," the Cowled Crusader said. "I'm too tired to get uptight."

Dragon stretched luxuriously and arched her back, almost shoving her gigantic quivering jugs into her partner's masked face. Leathern fists drummed a quick light tattoo of satisfaction on the limo ceiling. "What time is it?"

"Sunrise."

The awesomely voluptuous super-bombshell blinked. Seemed to do some quick figuring and wasn't satisfied with the results. Then shrugged and looked at Fury, noticing her leaden demeanor for the first time.

"So, I take it we had a good time with the gorgeous zillionaire."

Gazing out the window, Fury shrugged.

Dragon studied her. "You look beat."

"I am."

That got a surprised and quizzical look in return.

Fury looked back with a sharp "What?"

"That doesn't make sense. You should be able to take on a hundred guys like him, and break them in two like twigs, without even breaking a sweat."

Fury thought of the times she had taken on well, not a hundred guys, but it had sure felt like it. And she hadn't been nearly this tired afterwards. She knew why, of course.

"Well, he insisted I wear the whole costume gloves, boots, cowl, everything."

Dragon smiled slyly. "Ah ha, so we did make it with the handsome stud."

The Thighbooted Thunderbolt frowned, annoyed at being tricked into revealing something she'd already sworn never to. Dragon sat next to her. "C'mon Red, the cat's out of the bag. Fess up."

Suddenly she knew she had to tell someone better Justice, but Dragon was here now. "You know how my powers work I've got ‘em as long as I wear the gloves and boots. Unless I get wet."

Dragon nodded eagerly, eyes alight behind their mask. Fury gave a leery sidelong glance and she subsided, but couldn't extinguish the gleam in her eye. "But he wouldn't let me take them off when we fucked! And I couldn't tell him why I wanted to, so ."

Dragon sat up. "So what? His wife caught you? You hurt him?"

Fury sighed. "Don't remind me about his wife. And I didn't hurt him, thank God. That's why I'm so tired."

Dragon cocked her head. That same look.

"From trying not to break him in two like a twig! From being extra-extra-careful holding back, you know!"

"Trying not to bruise his male ego or him, huh?" Dragon gave her a sympathetic smile.

"Right. I was so so horny that once we started I couldn't stop! But it was like I don't know what it was like, but it was awful! Like he was made of tissue paper, or soda crackers! Being extra-delicate when I touched him, too afraid to wrap my legs around him even when I stuck my tongue in his mouth! I could've broken his jaw!"

"Was your pussy satisfied?"

Fury sank back with a sigh. "Oh yes yes yes! But the rest of me feels like it's about to, I don't know, shatter into a zillion pieces! If I hadn't finally suggested making it in the swimming pool I think I'd have exploded! I still might!"

"So you managed to get wet. I guess after that everything was fine."

"Well, at least all this darned strength was gone so I didn't have to worry about killing him if I so much as twitched the wrong way. But by then we'd done it, oh, five or six times, and he was pretty well gone too!"

"Wow. Five or six times." Smiling, Scarlet Dragon stroked Fury's shoulder. "Poor baby."

The big leatherclad superwoman shivered under Dragon's gloved touch. "I haven't been so frustrated since since I don't know when!"

"I can tell," Dragon purred.

"If I wasn't so dead tired I'd go find Jack Hammer or one of those super-creeps and pick a fight, just to work this off."

"Frustration's a terrible thing." Dragon's breath tickled her ear.

"I mean, all I wanted to take off was the gloves and boots, not the cowlllll wh-what're you doing?"

"De-frustrating you," the beautiful Oriental murmured, running her lips along the Thighbooted Thunderbolt's smooth muscular upper arm from the cuff of her long glove to her throat.

"I'm not sure this's the " But she was too depressed to object, and despite her anger too listless to resist, or even move away.

"You won't have to worry about breaking me." The lips moved to a gigantic soft chest-pumpkin. Somehow found their way under its barely restraining strap to the big brown nipple the leather thong did so little to conceal.

"That's truuoooooo ." With mild surprise Fury watched a shoulder-gloved arm reach for one of Scarlet Dragon's gigantic boobs. Then its twin do the same thing. And they were both hers.

So for the second time that night, Savage Fury's ever-admonishing Jiminy Cricket was silent. Or maybe, as Dragon knelt between her widespread thighbooted legs and ate her out like she hadn't been eaten in weeks and she moaned and writhed on the limo seat, maybe its voice was the small one that kept whispering:

Yes yes oyesssss ohhhhhyessssssss .

-9-

"I'll have to tell Walt." Savage Fury's voice trembled.

Even with the air conditioning on high the compartment was hot and humid and smelled of sex and leather. The two super-Amazons lay on the floor of the limo in each other's shoulder-gloved arms. They were far from finished, but at least the edge was off. The Cowled Crusader's broad muscular back and shoulders were still tense with her need.

It was okay, Scarlet Dragon thought, they had all morning. And it might take that long.

Barcas is willin'.

She'd been gazing at the ceiling tasting Fury's salty cum on her lips and trying in the warm afterglow to reconstruct the last part of her evening. Not having much luck, either. Too much champagne again.

At Fury's words, her glance shifted sideways.

"Hey, why now? It isn't like this's the first time we've "

"Silly, not about this."

"Oh." Dragon propped herself up on a leather-sheathed elbow. Fury had yet to entrust her secret identity to the Asian Amazon, but Dragon did know she was married and her husband's name was Walt. Sounded like a real stiff (not the good kind), but hey, who was she to judge anyone else's taste in men?

It also sounded, from what little she could glean, like a pretty stable marriage. So she decided to break well, bend one of her basic tenets. And said, carefully, "So I repeat: why?"

"He has a right to know." The Cowled Crusader's voice trembled a little but she'd obviously made up her mind.

That's Fury: not real bright, but determined.

"Know what? You haven't told him about all the times you've been tied up and raped and all that?"

"Jesus no!"

"He doesn't even know you're Savage Fury, does he?"

"Of course not!"

"So why start confessing all now? I mean, why blow your secret and your marriage in one breath?"

Fury just looked troubled. "Fucking Jonathan is different. I wanted to do it. He didn't force me."

Dragon snorted. "Not this time, anyway."

Fury was about to make one of those retorts that she would later turn over in her mind and think of a thousand better and wittier things to have replied

When Dragon said, "Hey, what's with the partition?" Fury looked up to see it cracked an inch. Not enough to see what they'd been doing but more than enough to get an earful and noseful. And from the midst of her sexual haze and uncertainty she was trying to decide whether a Peeping Tom chauffeur was worth getting all the way up and cleaning his clock

I mean, someone would still have to drive the limo the rest of the way into town and what a pain that would be and

when the black handballs dropped into the compartment from over the partition, which promptly zipped up again. Dragon yelled "Whoa!" and the handballs turned out to be gas bombs when instead of bouncing they exploded at the still-entwined supergirls' spikeheeled feet, filling the compartment with choking stinking blinding gas!

Scarlet Dragon, less preoccupied and much faster, was already moving the instant the gas billowed forth. But the noxious fumes were so potent that with her power limited to concentrating all of her chi into one portion of herself at a time, it was all she could do to fight their effects there wasn't enough power left to smash the compartment door open.

Stronger but slower, the blinded Fury pushed her giant-titted partner away and struggled to her boot-sheathed knees, banging her cowled head against the low roof so hard that she punched a hole in it. When the limo suddenly slammed into reverse the Savage Sensation was thrown over Scarlet Dragon again, the gloved hand she threw out to prop herself up thudding down squarely on Dragon's barely covered cunt. The overblown Oriental bombshell squealed and inhaled a lungful of the noxious gas that set her into meaty jiggling spasms of coughing.

"Door ." She managed to gasp.

"Where?" Frantic, Fury flailed her shoulder-sheathed arms about and accidentally knocked one of Dragon's gigantic jugs up into her masked face.

"Unh!" Stunned by her own titanic tit, able to see but not much more, Dragon reached up and hooked two gloved fingers into Fury's nostrils. Ignoring her ponderous-pontooned partner's startled squawk, she concentrated the last of her chi to smash that cowled noggin through the window. Gas started to billow out around the Cowled Crusader's head and broad shoulders.

"There."

Fury thrust out her lithe-muscled arms blindly and exploded the door from its hinges, allowing the rest of the debilitating fumes to escape along with the two coughing mammoth-mammaried Amazons.

Or almost escape. Fury had just taken Dragon around the waist to carry them both out of the limo when the reason it had stopped and backed up came crashing down on the struggling superwomen like a big old tree which was exactly what it was.

Smashing through the compartment roof an instant before she lunged, the huge tree took Fury across her broad sinewy bare back. Its massive weight slammed her down onto Scarlet Dragon again with a grunt, the Cowled Crusader's elephantine milkbag mashing over her super-partner's masked face and burying it under what felt to the dazed Asian Amazon like a ton of soft sweaty smothering blubber just as she was getting her breath back.

Numb from the neck down by now by the gas's effects and not tracking too well, Dragon instinctively bit down on the hard rubbery dowel, was rewarded with a shrill scream from somewhere beyond this suffocating avalanche of jello.

The stab of pain from her sensitive thumb-sized teat brought Fury part way out of the blackness into which she'd been gassed and smashed far enough to blindly get her shoulder-sheathed arms beneath her and do the most agonizing push-up in her life. With a wracking groan punctuated by spasms of coughing that hurt every cubic inch of her insides, she brought what little remained of her super-strength to bear and ssslllloooowwwlllyyyy lifted the crushing tons of mass on her back.

Inch

By inch

By agonizing inch.

Struggling for breath, the blinded Fury concentrated mightily on this Herculean task, which still would've been no big deal but on top of everything else her head still rang like a bell and of course she'd spent the last 8 hours or so drinking and fucking and was well into the mother of all hangovers. It was only when her muscular arms were at full trembling extension that the Cowled Crusader realized her gloved hands were anchored wrist-deep in Scarlet Dragon's immense soft tits, flattening them over her ribcage like vast souffles. The only reason she hadn't heard any sound from the Oriental bombshell (whose ability to complain was legendary) was it was dammed back behind teeth clenched so tightly they might have been welded shut.

Well stupid, so far all you've managed to do is beat your partner half to death! Wanna try for the other half?

Rage at her own drunken incompetence brought a surge of strength to the Masked Mammazon and she heaved up on the massive tree trunk, with such force that she actually managed to hurl it off her back into the air as though the film of its toppling was being run backwards.

Then took Scarlet Dragon around the waist and this time completed the dive from the gas-filled limo into the open air with a (rather hoarse) cry of triumph

Abruptly cut off in mid-yell when the tree, which had only been thrown up a few feet, came crashing back down again onto Savage Fury, slamming her to the wet grass. About all she managed to do was throw Scarlet Dragon to one side before the massive bole smashed the last breath from her aching lungs and pinned her lengthwise, giving her cowled head another solid blow that it definitely didn't need.

The damned thing felt like a skyscraper on her back.

After the crushing pressure on her immense boobs was released and she could take a breath (not as much gas this time but still enough to send her mind spinning back into the abyss from whence it had finally begun to climb) the dazed phased and definitely hazy Dragon felt herself picked up like dirty laundry and hurled through the air. There was a splintering crash and a muffled cry of pain from behind as she skipped over the ground a couple of times and slammed bodily into a tree.

Oddly enough, she discovered as she picked herself up groaning that the impact had actually cleared away a lot of the fog in her clanging aching head. Now she could see the huge tree that had fallen across the limousine and all but cut the car in two. They were still somewhere in the woods surrounding Jonathan Hard's home!

That motherfucker of a driver must've been driving in circles the whole time Fury and I

Fury.

Where the hell was she?

Leaning for support against the tree she had just hit (and gouged a goodly chunk of wood out of, she was proud to note), Dragon hauled herself painfully to her spikeheeled feet. And spotted a leather-sheathed arm and thighbooted leg sticking out from under the mammoth tree trunk.

Unmoving. Not even a twitch. Totally limp.

Oh this is so not good!

Because it was obviously a trap, and a damned good one. She remembered the way the limo had stopped then backed up a few feet to get them in position for the tree, in case the gas wasn't enough. There was more, like what had happened to that motherfuckerlimodriver, but her mind was still spinning like a CD and all she could think about was getting Fury out from under that tree.

She can survive something like that, can't she? I mean, her tits alone would cushion .

She was gathering what little chi she had left to push the enormous bole off Fury when she could have sworn she heard .

Singing?

The voices faded in from all around her in the misty morning woods:

A deep bass: "Don't you know .

Joined by a soft chorus: "That's the sound of the men, working on the chain ga-ang.

"That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang.

"All day long they're goin' OOH! AH!"

"How the hell did you losers get loose?" she demanded.

"You'll never guess," the leader of the Chain Gang grinned as the nine villains came towards her from the trees. "We made bail!"

"You assholes couldn't make change from a nickel," Dragon snarled, hoping she sounded braver than she felt. At full power she could take all these clowns, no problem. The way she was now, two would be a problem. And nine .

"Always hated oldies," she muttered, and turned to face them. At least with the tree trunk at her back they couldn't surround her.

Wait a minute, now there're only eight

That was when the chain wrapped around her neck from behind and jerked the Asian Amazon back against the fallen tree, eyes bulging from their mask and tongue protruding. Two of the Gangers in front charged in but she got her thighbooted legs up and pistoned them back into two more only to have the choking chain pull tighter around her slender throat and haul her onto her back over the tree!

"Gaakkkhhhh!"

"Is her face red!" someone laughed.

Two more chains lashed out and took her by her booted ankles and before she could react all three pulled tight, racking Dragon's awesomely overblown body between them and strangling her!

"Gggggghhhh!!"

Teeth clenched, masked eyes blurring, the Oriental super-bombshell grabbed the taut chain above her head to try to haul some slack in and somehow managed to pull it out of the Ganger's hand! She instantly realized her mistake as the two chains at her feet yanked her off the tree and dragged her screaming on her back over the wet grass. Spreading her powerful boot-sheathed legs wide apart as they did so (she got a quick glimpse of the Gangers running off in different directions as they pulled her along)

And slamming her crotch full-tilt into the trunk of a tree!

Scarlet Dragon howled in pain and jerked up, eyes and mouth agape, gloved hands groping for her smashed snatch. Then the Gangers went running past the mammoth-titted supergirl going the other way and next thing she knew her legs were pulled up and over and she was being dragged wailing backwards on her stomach, chin bounding about on her gigantic milkbags bouncing like two soft basketballs over the rough ground.

"Uh-uh-uh-uh-OWW!!" She bit her tongue as her colossal cushions bumped over a thick protruding root, but the stab of pain didn't keep her from grabbing onto that root with desperate if not super strength.

And using that desperation to hold tight though when the ankle-chains pulled taut her gloved fingers felt like they were going to be torn off her hands.

Got to concentrate only in the place of inner peace will you find the chi of power.

Reassembling the tatters of her tranquillity, Dragon used the techniques she'd learned from her great-great-God-only-knows-how-many-greats-grandfather (which had been effective enough to keep the old hornball on live for over 200 years so far, so who was she to argue with success?). She retreated from the pain and strain of the outer world toward that always-still golden place her grandfather had shown her long before.

Now where the hell is that fucking inner peace?

Stress sometimes made it difficult to find, like a frightened bird. But she was getting near it was like entering the eye of a hurricane.

Just then at least four of the Gang gathered around her prone still body and began flogging the Asian Amazon's big bare ass with electrified chains, the links scorching her lavish toned cheeks. The pain seared like lightning across the darkness of her tranquillity but she held onto it

Till the crooks kicked Dragon over onto her back and brought their steel whips to bear on her mammoth heaving tits. The lashing links knocked the enormous joggling blubberbags about like overfilled water balloons, shredding her top, striking sparks on the big hard nipples.

"C'mon you guys!" one yelled to the others who were just standing around drooling and playing with their hard-ons. "There's plenty of room for all!"

"Shit, we coulda brought the whole gang for this!" another chuckled, snapping his chain on a stiff finger-sized teat with a sizzling flash.

"And done recruitment!"

"Okay guys, it's time for Braveheart!"

Two more Gangers lashed their chains out around Dragon's wrists and yanked her hands off the thick root while a third picked up the chain still wrapped about the stupendous beauty's neck. Then at a signal from CG1 all 5 wrists, neck and ankles hauled on their chains together, stretching the Oriental bombshell's muscular leather-sheathed limbs straight out to her sides and lifting her off the ground.

With a gasp the racked and strangled superheroine exploded from her trance. "NNNGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!"

Suspended tautly between the chains, her entire awesomely overblown body quivered like a bowstring in mid-air. The steel noose around her neck felt like it was going to tear her head off its shoulders! If her arms didn't come off first, that is.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitttt!

All eyes were on Scarlet Dragon's immense quaking milkbags and the heavy pouting pussylips that bulged out around her micro-bottom as her muscular thighs were spread straight out to her sides.

"I wanna tickle ‘er!" a Ganger insisted, moving toward a rigidly sinewed armpit streaming sweat into a shoulder-length glove.

"No way!" another said. "Hey, we aren't being paid to be sadists!"

"Sure we are!"

"Aren't we?"

"Well I sure as hell thought so!"

"You fucking " Dragon managed to gasp through teeth clenched by the chain noose snugged up under her bloodied chin. She was trying like hell to struggle but couldn't even manage that. The strain on her shoulders was purest agony.

"Shit, it'll be a freebie!" CG1 said. "Tickle the crap out of her!"

A pause. "So to speak."

That was when a mocking voice said, "Gee, all of a sudden no one wants to dance with little ol' me."

Something huge hit the ground behind them, shaking it. They all turned and looked and yelled

at the mammoth tree trunk rumbling across the clearing towards them like a steamroller with Savage Fury standing behind it, gloved hands on swelling bare hips.

"No one wants to dance with me?" she asked. "Incominnggggg!" one of them yelled, and they all scattered.

Leaving the stunned and whipped Scarlet Dragon sprawled on the wet grass, right in the oncoming juggernaut’s path!

"Shit!" Fury thought. The Chain Gang was the first thing she’d seen when she finally managed to roll the crushing mass of the tree off her aching back (her boulderous boobs throbbed horribly from being smashed beneath her), and after the way they’d humiliated her the last time (not the first but one of the worst) that was all she needed.

She hadn’t even thought about ….

"Shit!" she said aloud, and squatted down for about the biggest leap she could manage at this point, on legs that felt like overcooked pasta. It carried her over the rolling tree trunk to the sumptuously sprawled Scarlet Dragon, but when she landed those magnificent thighbooted gams buckled and she stumbled to her knees.

Right in the path of the oncoming tree!

Normally she could’ve shot-putted that steamroller half a mile, but between all the drinking, all the fucking (both kinds), the gas and the constant battering by the tree, this was a long way from normally.

At that moment Dragon stirred and opened her eyes. "Wha— Fury?"

Only to have her whole head buried once again in 20 pounds of titfat as Savage Fury threw herself onto the prone powergirl.

Good thing she’s only using one boob.

But what the hell is—?

That was when the enormous tree trunk hit them like a wooden tidal wave crushing both superheroines beneath its multi-ton mass and literally driving them into the soft ground. It rumbled on another few yards then came to a halt against one of its vertical brethren.

For a moment the only sound in the clearing were a few birds and some moans from a crater filled with half-buried scantily-costumed pulchritude. Then another sound drowned out the birds:

Applause.

A few whistles.

And the Chain Gang came forth—cautiously at first then, when the two fabulous female forms didn’t move in their muddy crater, more boldly. The applause swelled.

"Encore! Encore!"

"Now that," Chain Gang 1 grinned, "is what I call taking care of business."

"Let she who is without sin cast the first tree," Gang 3 quipped.

"Totally inappropriate," critiqued CG4. "No Biblical context here at all."

"I am open to suggestions."

Debating the fine points, they gathered around the stunned superheroines.

"Damned nice of Fury to bring along a friend this time."

"She’s always been considerate."

CG1 sighed. "Well, let’s get to it."

"Oh yes, let’s do!" the rest chimed in eagerly. A few were jumping up and down in joyous anticipation.

CG1 wound Savage Fury’s scarlet ponytail around his fist. "Up you get, darlin’." He lifted the double-dirigibled dynamo from the crater by her hair, a groan sluicing through clenched teeth.

"Nice teeth," CG3 commented, and smashed a chain-wrapped fist across the Savage Sensation’s jaw that sent her flying back with a grunt to skid over the grass and fetch up against the trunk of the fallen tree. The crack her cowled head made against the wood sounded like a gunshot.

Four of the Gang went after her while the rest gathered around Scarlet Dragon at their feet. CG1 reached down and hoisted her up by one mammoth milkbag, stretching it out over a foot and wrenching a squeal of agony from the dazed Dragon. Which squeal rose an octave when CG1 squeezed her gigantic jug till his brutal fingers disappeared in all its doughy boobfat.

He held the overblown Oriental up, hanging from that titanic distended udder, to present his beautiful mega-busty and battered trophy for the crowd’s approval like the catch of the day.

"Wonderful!"

"A masterpiece!"

"Needs blood."

By her bangs CG1 turned the Oriental bombshell to inspect her slack masked visage. "Think so? Wouldn’t that mar the basic purity of the concept?"

"You motherfu—" Dragon started to mutter, clenching a gloved first. Her words cut off when CG1 slammed her face down onto his knee ("unh!!") and again ("agh!!"). Blood spattered his pants from burst lips and nose.

"You’re right," CG1 said.

He jerked the moaning Mammazon up, chin and lips now covered with blood.

"Now that’s art!" Polite but sincere applause.

"Okay guys," CG1 said. "Time to earn our pay."

Their cheers filled the clearing.

Savage Fury was yanked to consciousness and across the clearing at the same instant by a chain that lashed out and wrapped around her gigantic tits. A powerful jolt of electricity froze the howl of pain on her lips as she was yanked to her spikeheeled feet by those gargantuan guords and sent reeling helplessly to slam bodily into a tree ("unhh!!") and stagger back

Then pulled in another direction, thighbooted legs wobbling beneath her, and smashed into a second tree ("oooff!!"). Tried to hug herself to this one but discovered that her gloved arms were bound behind her by the same unbreakable chain they’d used on her before.

And was hauled back once more, wailing in frustration and rage (which bought another explosion of electricity that clashed her teeth and bit her tongue), spun around in a big circle tottering on her 6-inch spikes to the accompaniment of rodeo-style hoots and cheers from the Chain Gang

Finally slammed into the soft boulderous bumpers of another super-statuesque body that had likewise been thrown into hers. Obviously after being caromed off her own set of trees, from the blackened eye behind the mask and sundry other bruises. Their two pairs of chest-pumpkins meshed doughily.

"Dragon!" she grunted.

"Fury! What the fuck—"

"Ah ah girls," CG1 said, "No hen parties. You are after all cows."

As though to underline his statement, he lashed out a chain that wrapped around the dazed Amazons’ enmeshed jiggling enormities from their sides and bound the stupendous superheroines face-to-face by those titanic tits. Before they could do more than react in shock, one of the Gangers stepped up behind Fury and brought his leg up between her boot-sheathed limps. Both awesome-bodied Amazons screamed as his knee smashed into Fury’s still-sensitive cunt and his toe burrowed into Dragon’s gaping snatch!

"A double!" CG1 yelled, and a cheer went up from all around. "I told you guys some soccer training would come in handy."

Tears leaking from under her mask, Fury worked at the chains binding her gloved wrists but they were just as unbreakable as before. Dragon was worse off—between straining at her own chains and trying like hell not to burst into tears, she looked like a little girl with a magnificent mammoth-titted body.

Suddenly half a dozen chains lashed Fury’s lavish bare buttcheeks from all angles, startling a shrill wide-eyed squeal from the Cowled Crusader that brought merry laughter from the assemblage.

"Let’s have ‘em sing a duet!" a Ganger yelled, and more chains sang out to whip Scarlet Dragon’s awesome tight-toned ass, eliciting a howl of indignant pain from that scantclad superwoman.

"Aw, her ass isn’t any fun," another complained. "Doesn’t quiver and quake like Fury’s fat can."

"Bet her hole’s tighter though," CG1 said.

"Hey, mine’s still plenty tight!" Fury snapped angrily. "No thanks to you creeps!"

The general hilarity was instant and explosive. Within moments tears were spilling down cheeks from under helmets and some had to lean on others for support.

Fury added indignantly: "Well, it is!"

Several rolled about on the ground, helpless, redfaced from trying to catch a breath. It was hard to tell whether they were laughing or crying.

All Dragon could do was glare furiously at her.

"What??" Fury demanded.

"Pepsi challenge!" one managed to choke out between gales of mirth, and the cry was taken up by those that could still speak coherently. Hiccups had rendered many of the Gang unintelligible. They’d even lost their erections (a world-class FIRST when fighting this toothsome twosome).

All but two of the Gang, that is—CG1 and CG3. Not even smiling—well, CG1 wore a big ugly sneer of contempt—they moved up behind the helpless tit-bound superbeauties, pressing buttons on wrist-panels that opened the crotches of their armor allowing enormous erections to spring out.

Dragon glared at Fury like this was all her fault.

The two scumbags smiled at each other.

Fury leaned close to her pissed-off partner and whispered "Lift your legs."

"Wha—?" Dragon started to say, when the Cowled Crusader suddenly leaned back from the waist yanking the Asian Amazon into the air with a startled cry both of surprise and pain (since she was being jerked up by her awesome chain-wrapped mega-melons). But she caught on instantly and as her powerful thighbooted legs swung up kicked out them behind her, slamming into CG1’s chest and hurling him back.

And while CG3 gawked in surprise, Fury spun Dragon around (both boulder-busted bombshells clenching their teeth in agony). Her flailing spikeheels took him upside the head, laying him out in the cold wet grass.

"Goddammit!" CG1 yelled, trying to get to his feet and dropping to his knees. "One of you morons GRAB THE TIT-CHAINS!"

Which lay on the ground, dropped then forgotten amid all the laughter.

Several Gangers scrambled for the fallen links but they were out of breath and weak. Fury and Dragon squatted together.

"This’s gonna hurt," the Asian supergirl muttered.

"Less than staying," Fury said.

"I’m just glad you’re not as dumb as you look."

As CG4 lunged for one of the chains, the two titan-titted goddesses leaped up and jerked it from his trembling hand. They hurtled skyward like tandem missiles, the rising sun gleaming off smooth opulent bodies and the chains that still bound their gigantic boobs between them and gloved wrists at those incredible asses.

"NOOOOOOOOO!!" he bellowed, and raised supplicating fists to the uncaring dawn.

"No more ‘Simpsons’ for you, Art," CG1 growled.

"Okay, ready?"

"Godddd yes! Hurrryyyyyyyyyyyy …."

Unable to break the chains binding their gloved wrists, the mega-bodacious bombshells finally managed to free their massive enchained and aching mammaries by the simple—and incredibly painful—expedient of backing away from each other and pulling those stupendous soft milkbags through the chain loops that bound them together. At roughly three feet apart, the two monstrous pairs of chain-wrapped pontoons strreeetttched out like stupendous sausages through the nooses. The gorgeous glamazons’ teeth were fused together in a single grimace of agony and sweat beaded their straining masked faces,.

"I … dunno about … yours," Dragon gritted, her words blurred by pain, "but mine … are about to … come off."

"Use your chi!" Fury grunted. "Keep … pulling …."

Dragon was already funneling most of her chi into her boulderous distended boobs—damn things were so big they took almost all she’d managed to recover. The "flight" over the forest had been bad enough but the crash had hurt more than any beating her gigantic jugs had ever had to endure—and that covered a lot of territory!

And now THIS …!

The monstrously stretched jellobags were strained deepest red by now and slick with sweat. "Just … a little …." Fury lifted a thighbooted leg and jammed its knee into Dragon’s rigid gut

And the two agonized Amazons’ ultimate udders burst free sending them reeling away from each other. Fury’s wondrous watermelons snapped back so energetically they knocked her on her big naked ass with a massive double-shot to her masked face ("mpff!!"). Scarlet Dragon’s chest-mountains, huge but not quite so soft, merely felt like they’d cracked a couple of ribs in their return to (ab)normal placement.

But that had left them with the problem of the unbreakable bonds at their gloved wrists.

So now, the sun well up and both heroines more or less restored to full power, they stood back to back and set themselves for one great effort. If Fury couldn’t break her chains, Dragon knew she had no chance at all. But working together on one set at a time ….

Fury was on her back with her boot-sheathed legs drawn up as far as they could go—and with Dragon’s help a little farther; as big as she was, the Cowled Crusader wasn’t especially limber. Together, they’d managed to position her feet against the chains wrapped around her hands. Fury’s knees were jammed so hard against her ribcage that she couldn’t breathe and her meaty shoulders felt like they were about to be pulled from their sockets and she knew she couldn’t keep this pressure up for long.

"Better … do it … now!" Fury’s muscular legs, built for power instead of flexibility, were starting to cramp.

"Okay … NOW!"

Fury pushed with her mighty legs and Dragon pulled with her chained hands and for a moment the links resisted even that incredible force.

As one: "NNNGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!"

Then one of the links stretched—just a bit—Dragon found another bit of chi hiding in a dark corner—Fury pushed and pushed till the muscles of her mighty legs seemed about to burst through their skin—

SPRUNGGG!

Fury’s legs shot out straight into Scarlet Dragon’s big bare ass sending her slamming into a tree with a surprised squawk. Her head and broad shoulders smashed through the yard-thick trunk and, teetering, the 60 foot oak began to topple onto her. The Cowled Crusader saw her partner’s danger and lunged at the tree as it shifted onto Dragon’s back. She hit it like a linebacker and sent it tumbling the other way with a mighty crash.

After that it was just a matter of unwinding the chain about the Asian Avenger’s gloved wrists—they weren’t self-tightening like some the Chain Gang used.

"Thanks," Dragon murmured, dreamily using her freed hands to massage her aching chest-mountains. "But isn’t this where we came in?"

"I still don’t get it," Fury said back in Silk Stalker’s office.

"What’s to get?" Scarlet Dragon asked, yawning. "They’re the Chain Gang. They attacked us. It’s what they do."

"Yeah, but they said they were being paid. By who?"

"By whoever! Does it matter?"

"Well, yeah. It might’ve been the same bunch that hired that chopper pilot."

"Both were kinda out-of-the-blue, alright. When’s Silk getting back?"

"A few more days, I think."

"Let’s hold tight till then and let her look into it."

Fury was almost relieved to hear Dragon say that. It meant it was okay for her to concentrate on more immediate concerns. If her ponderous-pontooned partner had wanted to look into it right away she’d have had to go along, and maybe screwed everything up by being distracted.

"So, ah, what say we finish what we started in the limo?" Dragon suggested ever-so-casually (but a shiver ran up her scantclad super-statuesque body and her big teats poked out against her top). "I could sure use some relaxation."

"N-no, I’d better not." It was a decision she would later regret, like so many that seemed right at the time. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel like it, see, or that she wasn’t attracted to Scarlet Dragon (quite the opposite!). The Masked Mammazon just didn’t think she deserved the pleasure (ignoring the guilt that would follow), or that she could enjoy it with What She Had To Do Next hanging over her head.

Talk about guilt!

Scarlet Dragon watched the Thighbooted Thunderbolt leap away into the early morning. She knew Walt was out on one of those sales trips he took and she hoped that he’d be gone long enough for Fury to think it over before he got back. Trouble was, she had the feeling that wasn’t the only decision her oh-so-upright (and uptight, for all her beauty and incredible body and the way she flaunted it and had it abused and violated) partner had arrived at.

-10-

Savage Fury waited nervously in the mansion’s foyer. You'd never have guessed a reasonably wild bash had ended here just a few hours ago. It was barely past noon and the place was already spotlessly clean again.

She took a deep calming breath that lifted her gigantic strapped tits like helium-filled blimps and didn’t calm her one bit. Wished she’d worn the cloak but had been in too much of a hurry to stop back at Silk’s office to pick it up.

Like Dad used to say: once you’ve made a decision like this, best to get it over with!

The Amazon Avenger wished even more that she’d lingered a bit with Scarlet Dragon. She couldn’t stop trembling as she waited, and it wasn’t nerves. Her pussy felt swollen and hot and her gigantic breasts weighed a ton each and sometimes she had to clasp her hands behind her to keep from touching it or them. She knew where that would lead, even here in this lavish mansion. Her entire superbody felt like one awesomely overblown erogenous zone.

You and Dragon should’ve finished things earlier!

When I’m finished here, I’ll find Dragon and, well, you know.

Wasn’t that butler taking an awful long time to fetch Jennifer Hard?

Boy, talk about your proper English type! He didn’t even blink when he opened the door and stared straight into your tits! Must’ve looked like you were going door-to-door selling watermelons or something.

Don’t think about your tits.

But he suuure was taking his sweet li’l ol’ time.

Fury shifted from foot to spikeheeled foot, heard herself humming, stopped. She clasped her armgloved hands behind her, felt the warm leather against her naked ass. Resisted the urge to ease the strap between those lavish soft cheeks. It tended to chafe whenever she was nervous

(and horny.)

Don’t think about being horny.

She resisted the damn-near-overwhelming urge to just get the hell out of there. Did her costume still smell of all that sex? She’d cleaned the leather thoroughly before leaving the house—didn’t want to confront the wife of the man who’d fucked her brains out smelling like it.

Fury yawned. Wished along with everything else that she’d at least taken a nap or something, but this whole crazy affair (well, not quite—at least, not yet) had bothered her too much. And sleep simply had not been an option once she’d decided to fess up to Jennifer Hard.

Boy would Scarlet Dragon give you the horse laugh!

What was worse, she didn’t have the faintest idea of what she would say. Had rehearsed speeches all the way over here and rejected them all. At least the 60 mph run in the cool morning had cleared her mind a bit, though it hadn’t helped that Other Problem at all.

Who knows? Jennifer Hard is a modern woman, maybe they really do have an open marriage, and she’ll just shrug and—

Come striding regally down the spiral staircase like a queen, dressed in gleaming powder-blue lycra workout togs that displayed without flaunting every spectacular totally-toned and tight inch of her world-famous figure.

Not like some we could mention, either in the "toned and tight" or "flaunting" categories.

The term "supermodel" had been coined for Jennifer Jordan before her marriage to Jonathan Hard, and 10 years later she was still one of the world’s most beautiful women. Her line of workout tapes would have made her mega-rich even without her husband’s billions.

Watching the gorgeous blonde approach, moving sinuously and easily like a panther, Savage Fury couldn’t help but admire Jennifer’s arms and shoulders, left bare by the skintight suit. Her latest tapes were about women pumping iron, and those tan lithe-muscled limbs showed it. Nut-brown, powerful yet feminine, they rippled with trim tight sinew, and the broad muscular shoulders perfectly set off big solid double-D jugs that strained against the sheer lycra. Last night she’d been spectacular in a strapless gown.

Despite her nervousness (or maybe because of it) Savage Fury felt herself moisten and her pussylips soften even more. She prayed they’d stay inside their scant concealment, and not simply swell up and swallow her V-bottom as they had a way of doing at the worst possible moments.

This was going to be hard enough without all that.

Get it? "Hard" enough ….

Oh please ….

"Savage Fury, what a pleasant surprise," the blonde beauty said in the well-modulated finishing school voice that had egged Paige Powers on through so many sweaty workouts before the VCR and TV. "I love surprises."

Jennifer was toweling the golden mane that had been her trademark before she went to work on her body. She gleamed with sweat and that musk (with everything else) made Fury lick her lips. The sweet-sour taste of Scarlet Dragon’s pussy was still on them, despite a liberal use of toothpaste and brush.

We’d better sit down for this one ….

Jennifer held out a slim exquisitely-manicured hand. Each lustrous nail had a tiny diamond embedded in it. "Excuse my mess, I’ve been working off last night’s champagne and caviar."

Up close and barefoot, the ex-model was a full head below The Cowled Crusader. It was the long long legs and short waist that made her look taller. But next to this svelte elegant bombshell Fury felt oafish and overblown, like the flashy oversexed megaslut her foes were always calling her.

Acutely conscious of the enormous chest-pumpkins swaying at her hostess’s chin, Fury took the proffered fingers. She could feel their strength and heat right through her glove.

Holding that leatherclad hand (Fury let her), Jennifer led the super-statuesque super-bombshell into one of the mansion’s numerous salons, where museum quality furniture was scattered about in small conversation groups. Sunlight flooded the room from a wall of windows. Fury remembered 69ing with Jonathan in this room just a few hours before: his magnificent cock filling her mouth, his tongue striking sparks deep in her cunt as his hands milked the monstrous tits that engulfed his waist.

Without any thought of wives or husbands or anything ….

This will be a breeze compared to telling Walt.

They sat. Later, the details of what came next were hazy—up to a point. A maid brought some kind of fruit-energy drink and the Thighbooted Thunderbolt managed to get some down despite the tightening in her throat and stomach. They made small talk and Fury thanked Jennifer for the great party and Jennifer said it was nothing, she loved to throw big bashes, and so on and so on, blah blah blah.

All the titan-titted superheroine remembered specifically was the way the blonde goddess’s sweat-soaked bodysuit clung to her nipples and heavy cuntlips and outlined the furrow between them.

I guess exercise turns her on too!

The point at which everything leaped into focus was during a moment of silence when Fury took a deep breath and said, "Your husband and I made love last night after the party. There’s no excuse except that I wanted to which isn’t any excuse at all and it was a horrid way to thank you for your kindness and I’m very, very sorry."

Jennifer Hard was silent for what felt like forever. And still—very very still. The only sound was the pounding of Savage Fury’s heart in her ears.

"I see," the trimly muscular knockout finally said in a carefully level voice. "Here. In this house. Last night."

"Well, actually, it was more like this morning …." God that was lame!

"I see." The finely modeled face had gone white and rigid with—what? Rage? Humiliation? Both and more, probably. The small perfect hands on her lap curled into trembling fists, clenched so tightly the cords stood out on their wrists.

"I really am sorry," Fury repeated in a small voice. It didn’t sound any better the second time.

She fervently wished the gorgeous blonde would say something like, "I appreciate your coming here like this, woman to woman." Or, "I can’t say I blame you, he is an extraordinarily attractive man. That wonderful dick of his is hard to resist."

Something that’ll let you off the hook, you mean.

But this wasn’t some silly romantic fantasy, and it was woman to woman. She wondered what a high-class socialite like Jennifer Hard did in situations like this. Divorce? Separation? Take a lover of her own? Maybe she already had …

Is this going to ruin two marriages?

The worst thing, the ponderous-pontooned paladin thought, would be if she showed her breeding by just swallowing it bravely and moving on, and leave Fury’s punishment to her own relentless conscience.

Till she saw the tears that had begun to trickle down the beautiful blonde’s cheeks.

Oh Jesus don’t cry! Please, I can’t bear it if you cry!

As frazzled and edged-out as she was from residual horniness and left-over aches from the action earlier that morning and lack of sleep and guilt and tension and just everything, Savage Fury felt sympathetic tears well up in her own masked eyes. Impulsively, she moved to the divan next to the quietly weeping woman. When Jennifer didn’t slide away, Fury put a shoulder-gloved arm around her broad trim-muscled shoulders and pulled her close. She resisted at first, but The Cowled Crusader was much too strong—and then the tall elegant heartbroken blonde just melted against her, sobbing openly now. Like a little girl, she pillowed her head on one of Fury’s gigantic soft chest-pumpkins and cried. Her golden mane’s steamy fragrance filled the Savage Sensation’s nostrils.

She felt her nipples harden and saw them extend, till they pointed through the narrow straps like fingers. And her pussy blossomed all around its scant V-bottom like an opulent pink flower.

It took her a moment to realize Jennifer was saying something amidst her sobs—and it was a real effort to focus on the broken words as they poured forth.

"It—it’s so hard sometimes! We’re supposed to, to have this perfect marriage, that’s what everyone th-thinks, but—but I’m just a, a showpiece for him!"

Fury stroked the fine blonde hair. "It’s all right," she murmured, shivering, squirming a little and fighting the need to reach down between her legs. "I’m so sorry."

"Oh, it isn’t y-your fault, it’s mine, I can’t g-give him what he wants, what he needs."

"What do you—"

The gorgeous workout queen answered the question before Fury could finish it. She reached down between the awesome-bodied Amazon’s thighbooted legs to cup her swollen wet cunt! Fury stiffened with a sharp intake of breath, then groaned when two manicured fingers slid all the way to the webbing between those distended fucklips.

As she began to gently finger-fuck the astonished Savage Fury, Jennifer Hard turned moist appealing (in both senses of the word) eyes up to her. Lush wet lips parted, tongue poised at her perfect teeth. Totally still, except for those pussy-probing fingers—and then a sister. A fourth digit joined them, sloshing around in Fury’s snatch like kids in a swimming pool, and a thumb began to massage a pearl of a clit that was stiff as a diving board,

And the dam gates broke.

The Thighbooted Thunderbolt’s lusting mouth dove down to meet Jennifer’s rising up. The two women kissed open-mouthed, their tongues touching, twining—

and then the gorgeous socialite squeaked into Fury’s passionately grinding mouth and jerked back.

"I’m sorry," Fury gasped, concerned, "did I hurt you? Oh, Christ—"

Jennifer put a hasty hand over her mouth. "No, no it’s all right, I just—didn’t expect you to be so strong."

"It’s great for super-villains, but it sucks with lovers."

"I like it." In a husky Mae West accent: "Treat me rough, you big strong bitch."

With a mock growl, Savage Fury glommed onto Jennifer’s eager upturned mouth again, their tongues wrestling wetly. The hand that wasn’t trying to plunge bodily into the boulder-busted bombshell’s gaping boiling pussy sank into voluminous tit-flesh. One of Fury’s armgloved hands tore away the bottom of the moaning blonde goddess’s workout suit and found her clit easily—the size and hardness of a marble!

"Ohhhh GODDDDD!" Jennifer Hard groaned, squeezing up great blubbery rolls of the super-Mammazon’s immense breast.

This is so weird—Jonathan Hard last night and his wife this morning ….

"You can fuck me if you like," Fury panted, amazed at her own words and even more amazed at her need.

She flashed a feverish smile.

"Let’s hit the workout room." Jennifer got to her feet, held out a hand that Savage Fury took eagerly as she stood. Hot flashes were hitting her like lightning bolts. "It’ll be better down there anyway. There’re all kinds of toys to play with."

The rich are so strange!

Gazing up at the towering titan-titted superwoman, Jennifer flicked her warm tongue over a swollen sensitive nipple. A shiver rocketed from Fury’s spikeheels to her scarlet ponytail.

"I’ve always been a sucker for boobs bigger than my head," the muscular blonde murmured.

"What about—"

"He won’t care." Almost a sneer: "He never goes there anyway."

-11-

"See? I (unnhhh!!) told you it would (oooooo!!) fit."

"I take it this isn’t your first dildo enema."

"Oh (aaaaa!) no. Some of the dicks I’ve taken back there were even b-b-bigger!"

The two bombshells were in the middle of a full-sized boxing ring which dominated one of many "workout rooms" that were part of a full complex extending a couple of levels below the mansion. Paige Powers worked out constantly—with elephantine boobs like hers she had to, just to keep them from sagging to her knees or ruining her back—but this place went way beyond the best-equipped professional gym she’d ever been in.

Jennifer knelt behind Savage Fury, the jelly-coated strap-on buried to the hilt between her great upturned buttcheeks. On all fours, Fury strained a shuddering groan of pure lust through clenched teeth as the golden goddess pushed the awesome appliance further into her bowels.

"OHGODDDD, I’m CUMMING ALREADYYY!!"

As juices gushed down Fury’s brawny loins into the tops of her thighboots, Jennifer pulled the hogleg from the ponderous-pontooned paladin’s gapingly stretched asshole.

"No … no, it’s alright," she gasped, "there’s plenty more where that came from."

"I’m surprised Jonathan didn’t satisfy you better," Jennifer remarked.

"Oh, it—it wasn’t that, I’ll explain later. Now my pussy."

Teasingly: "You’re sure?"

"Hurryyyyy!"

With a smile, Jennifer gripped the enormous dildo strapped to her waist. "Raise this magnificent ass of yours a little, darling. And spread your cheeks."

Moaning and squirming with the uncontrollable urgency of her need, Fury reached back to splay gloved fingers over her lavish bare netherpillows and separate them. Another orgasm gouted forth when the great appliance’s tennis ball-sized head just touched her slack slopping pussylips. A puddle was forming at her leather-sheathed knees.

"Nnnnnnggghhh!"

"My, you are hot!"

"One of the … things about being a superwoman is … you get super turned-on sometimes. Come on, ram it in me!"

The huge hogleg poked between the Savage Sensation’s lust-bloated labia, slid in maybe an inch. More hot juice dripped to the floor.

"More! All the way!"

"Say ‘please’."

"Please! Ogod pleeease!"

So the blonde fitness queen rammed the great horn all the way home, sheathed it to the hilt in Fury’s squelching snatch. Fury threw her cowled head back and wailed.

"I can’t believe you took the whole thing," Jennifer marveled, staring down at the 4-inch thick cum-smeared dildo projecting from the Thighbooted Thunderbolt’s gaping gash.

"Believe me," Fury gasped, "Try 2 or 3 the, the same size. Pounded in with hammers!"

"Wow." Jennifer licked her lips.

"Now fuck me! Fuck me harddd!"

"My pleasure." As powerfully as she could, the muscular blonde began to pump her massive member into the ponderous-pontooned paladin’s sloshing cunt. No slow build-up, no sensual probing, just a sledgehammer pussy-pounding that would have ruptured a normal woman. She slammed the gigantic joint in as far as it would go and hauled it out and plunged it in again, each battering stroke drawing forth more femoil as though it was a pump. The pool of cum at Fury’s thighbooted knees was becoming a lake.

Fucked and punished, pleasured and pained at the same time, Savage Fury loved it. One small part of her mind wondered how getting banged by the wife made up for being banged by the husband, but the rest just went with the banging.

She wanted to be humiliated, she needed to be shamed, it was what she deserved, it would cleanse and purify her to be degraded by the woman she had wronged ….

Slumped to leather-sheathed elbows with her cowled head between her fists, the stupendous superbombshell made sounds into the floor that were half-grunt, half-squeal. A puddle of drool spread around her slack passion-twisted mouth over the ring’s floor. Gargantuan milkbags spread vastly beneath her till Jennifer, grunting almost as passionately as Fury with her dildo-hammering effort, grabbed ahold of them and lifted them out to her sides like watermelon-sized waterwings.

"Oh God yes …. Hurt my tits! …. OGodyesss …."

"What the fuck??"

It took a moment for the two lustily engrossed women to register the startled voice, another to look up.

Jonathan Hard stood at ringside staring, both hands clenched on the ropes. Savage Fury gasped in shock and involuntarily tightened her vaginal muscles—crushing the deeply-buried dildo to pulp.

Jennifer Hard, grinning triumphantly at her husband, didn’t notice at first.

"Jesus Christ," he said. To the Cowled Crusader: "You told her, didn’t you? You fucking told her!"

In a singsong voice his wife taunted, "Anyone you can fuck, I can fuck better—I can fuck anyone better than you." She pulled the crushed dildo out of Fury’s snatch and stood. So excited she didn’t notice its condition.

On all fours all but lost in her own daze of sex and humiliation, Fury shivered. She was still so turned-on it was hard to focus. "I’m, I’m sorry Jonathan, I had to, see it was—"

He leaped the ropes and in two strides was upon her, kicking her beautiful cowled face. She yelped, more in surprise than pain, and scrambled to her feet.

Fury was astonished to hear Jennifer snort, "Don’t try to make up for it now. You know how I feel about her and this whole ludicrous thing!"

"Hon—" He turned to her.

"I don’t know what hurts more: you fucking this elephant-uddered bimbo in my own house …."

"Jen—"

"Now wait a minute," Fury began.

The gorgeous blonde stuck her face right in her husband’s. "… Or that you didn’t tell me so I could watch!"

Savage Fury blinked. "What?"

-12-

Jonathan spread placating hands. "Look, babe—"

"We won’t even go into not letting me join in!" Jennifer turned away petulantly, sinewy arms folded under her big solid boobs.

"I didn’t think you'd want to, darling! Why do you think I arranged—you know."

"Oh, so the Jap bitch was just a consolation prize, huh?"

"Now wait a darned minute—" But the Cowled Crusader, still shaky on her spikeheeled feet (and still ragingly horny), couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

Jonathan gave his wife a measuring look. "You seemed to enjoy yourself. Both times."

"Oh, so you got to watch me twice!"

"Not last night, I was busy." An impersonal nod towards the thoroughly flustered Thighbooted Thunderbolt. "What do you think I’ve been doing this morning while you worked out? Watching the tapes."

"You have?" Suddenly coy, Jennifer made a moue. "Did you enjoy them? How was I?"

"You were magnificent, as always! No one sits a face like you. The big bitch’s mask just made it more tantalizing."

Acidly, but softening: "What about quid pro quo? I don’t suppose you—"

"Cara mia, but of course!" Fury suddenly had the weird feeling she was in the middle of an ‘Addams Family’ rerun. "I had the cameras on in all the rooms!"

Savage Fury was about to inject herself forcibly into the argument but froze. She gaped at him. "You—you taped us making love??"

The glance he shot her way was so cold and contemptuous it made her feel like some kind of specimen under glass. "Hardly. I taped us fucking."

"You—you—" Her bewilderment exploded into wounded rage. The ponderous-pontooned paladin whipped out a shoulder-gloved arm and snatched him up like a misbehaving puppy. Held him at arm’s length overhead.

But despite turning red in the face he just smiled down at her! "You don’t want to pursue this, Fury." Even choked off, his voice gloated.

"Why the fuck not??" she demanded, shaking him. "I’ll smash this whole house!" She was almost in tears and hated it, hated even more the feelings of betrayal and shame.

Again ….

"You—you’re nothing but a, a—GGGHHH!!"

Suddenly what felt like fire raked the Thighbooted Thunderbolt’s left leg! She grunted and stumbled to one leather-sheathed knee, dropping her intended victim.

"She does feel pain," Jennifer said behind her.

"I told you—her skin’s impenetrable but she isn’t armor-plated." Jonathan picked himself up, straightened his collar and bent over to slap some invisible dust from his pants.

"I’m going to make the big cow wish she was."

Fury, kneeling and massaging her throbbing hipbooted leg, realized what the blonde beauty was getting at.

"No way." The Savage Sensation shook her head. "Uh uh."

"I see." Jennifer was donning what looked like rollerskater’s gear: knee and elbow pads, reinforced fingerless gloves and heavy shoes. "You’ll fuck my husband but you won’t fight for him."

"Jennifer, I don’t want your husband!"

"You wanted him last night."

Fury flapped a leather-sheathed arm. "Last night was … last night. Champagne and a, well, a lot of other things. Besides …."

"Besides what?"

"Well, isn’t it obvious? I’m a superheroine. No offense, I mean you’re in great shape but—"

"No match for your super-strength?"

Fury let that one stand.

You could always give her a chance and take off the gloves and boots, Supertits.

Oh, right. Sure.

"I could tear this whole place down without breaking a sweat!"

"That’s what’s going to make this so sweet." Jennifer moved towards her, eagerly but warily. "You want to do it here in the ring?"

The incredulous Cowled Crusader stared down at the smaller beauty. "Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? You’re just a normal woman, there’s nothing you can do to make meOOOOGGH!!"

As a gloved hand struck at her like a rattlesnake and seemed to just touch her muscular midsection—but exploded pain as though a cannonball had plowed into her gut!

Leatherclad hand at her aching belly, suddenly the wary one, the shocked Fury backed away.

"My wonderful wife," Jonathan Hard explained with a smile, "is even more expert at pain than pleasure. She knows every nerve in the human body, and how to make it scream the loudest."

He climbed out of the ring. "I’d rather be the one to make you pay for spoiling my surprise, but since she’s dressed for it I’ll let her. Make it part of my gift."

"Gift?" Jennifer turned to him. "Surprise?? Oh, Jonathan …."

"Darling, you didn’t think I’d forget your birthday, did you?"

"Well, you haven’t even mentioned it—"

While these two loonies gabbed, Savage Fury decided it was time to leave. She had no intention of indulging Jennifer Hard in any insane macho fantasies, she’d apologized and that was enough. Besides, what if she accidentally killed this crazy bitch??

"Now what kind of surprise would it be if I told you?"

Neither paid Fury any attention when she started for the corner of the ring nearest the door.

Serve them right if I just smashed my way out of here.

No, they’re not worth the trouble. They aren’t worth another 2 seconds of your time.

And the first thing you’re going to do when you get back to town is find Scarlet Dragon and apologize, with your tongue and your tits and (ohyesss!) that favorite strap-on of hers and—

Jennifer Hard didn’t even look around as Savage Fury passed behind her. At the ring corner the furious Fury paused, wondering whether to hop over the post or just rip it up.

Show them a thing or two about superheroines!

She didn’t hear the blonde Amazon sneak up behind her. Jonathan’s half of the conversation continued over her left shoulder but she was too proud and angry to notice his wife wasn’t saying anything in reply.

She had just gripped the corner post to pluck it up like a weed when, from behind with all the strength in her muscular legs, Jennifer kicked Fury squarely on her still-swollen, very turned-on and supersensitive cunt. The steel toe made an impact like a smashed melon on the distended pendent lovemound bulging between Fury’s floppy-cuffed thighs and with a gassy porcine squeal the Cowled Crusader bowed forward over the post she’d been about to uproot, eyes screwed tightly shut behind their mask. Clutching her agonized pussy (juices flowing copiously between her gloved fingers), she didn’t see but definitely felt the follow-up kick that slammed into the back of a leather-sheathed knee, numbed that leg and dropped the Thighbooted Thunderbolt with a groan to kneel against the post.

Fury tried to leap to her feet again and knock this presumptuous bitch into next week

Non-super or no, I’ll teach her to trifle with me! Nobody sticks a dildo up Savage Fury’s ass then picks a fight with her!

(Usually it’s the other way around).

but only one of her legs was working, and that not very well. She had to push herself up with her gloved arms—and as she turned to face her attacker, defiance on her plush lips, a meteoric steel-shod foot lashed out in a savage kick to her throat.

The Savage Sensation choked, eyes bulging, and clutched at her windpipe with both hands. A Mammazonian sitting duck for the blonde beauty’s flying sequel: a double kick that buried both feet ankle-deep in The Cowled Crusader’s gargantuan blubber-pumpkins ("UNNH!!"), spreading them vastly out over her ribcage.

But didn’t even make her shuffle her spikeheeled feet.

When Jennifer rebounded and rolled to her feet again, she was limping.

"It’s like kicking a marble statue padded with foam," the beautiful Amazon winced. "About two tons of it."

"I told you to be careful," Jonathan said.

Gasping and struggling for breath, Fury had it worse. Even a superwoman needed to breathe, and there seemed to be an iron collar strangling her. Plus her cunt throbbed horribly. And her gigantic jugs felt like they’d been smashed against a concrete slab—her own superstrong body!

If you weren’t so incredibly turned-on it wouldn’t be a problem, you could kick the tight well-toned asses of a hundred bitches like this, no sweat.

But she’d been seduced and set up perfectly, with unknowing help from Scarlet Dragon.

And you too, Supertits!

Fury’s head spun and her masked eyes kept blurring, but she couldn’t wait for them to clear. Kicked brutally out of her, the overwhelming sexual craving had receded and left behind something worse: an ultra-sensitivity that tingled all over, especially her boobs and nipples and clit. Her thighboots’ heels feeling more like five feet than five inches, the awesome-bodied Mammazon Manhunter growled and lurched out into the ring toward Jennifer.

An insolent and infuriatingly impatient smile on her luscious (and tasty) lips, the blonde bombshell waited.

Like she’s waiting for a bus! Damn her!

With a grunt of effort, Savage Fury swung an armgloved fist that could hole concrete, but all it holed was air. Jennifer Hard moved so fast she seemed to disappear from before the angry Amazon and rematerialize behind to pull the thong buried between Fury’s lavish globes till it cut into her sensitive pussy, then let it go with a cheek-shimmying (and asshole-twinging) snap!

"Soft," she tsked. "We’ll have to work some of this blubber off you, Savage Fatty."

The Cowled Crusader snarled and spun, swinging an arm like a leather-sheathed wrecking crane—and again her lithe-muscled opponent was gone as if by magic. But as she dodged around the staggering stupendous superheroine, she gave each of Fury’s big hard nipples a painful twisting jerk that made her squeal girlishly.

Too sensitive!

And when the ponderous-pontooned paladin turned that way swinging another artillery shell of a fist, Jennifer ducked under it with ease—and while she was down there snaked out a hand to yank on Fury’s protruding pearl of a clit!

The Savage Sensation shrieked in humiliated agony and clutched her agonized twat with both gloved hands, couldn’t help bowing her great thighs in a bit. For all her towering height and stupendous body, she managed to look like a little girl who had to go to the bathroom in the worst way!

Jonathan Hard applauded from a console he was adjusting.

Jennifer taunted her: "C’mon, Savage Fatty, I thought you were going to knock me into next week or something."

Tears of pain and frustration and rage burning her masked eyes, Fury gritted, "One punch, that’s all it’d take."

Jennifer slapped her cowled face—once, teasingly—then danced away. She grinned when Fury didn’t move after her, just stood there massaging her dripping pussy. "But it has to connect, doesn’t it?"

Somewhere inside Fury knew she was out of control, but that had ceased to matter. All that did matter was wiping that brazen arrogant smile off the face of this—normal woman!!

With an enraged bellow the Thighbooted Thunderbolt charged. As long as Jennifer had room to maneuver, she was too fast to touch.

Got to get her in a corner, crowd her"UNNNHH!!"

Like a matador with a bull, the lithe-muscled blonde stepped aside and as she rushed past rifled a steel-fingered chop to Fury’s leather-sheathed elbow, numbing that entire arm to the shoulder. Frantically, Fury flailed out with that limb

and connected.

The arm was too deadened from the nerve punch to feel the impact but with a scream Jennifer hurtled back into the ropes, only to be flung forward again like an arrow from a bow and sprawl face down on the mat.

And lie there.

Still.

The broad sinewy back didn’t move.

"Oh Jesus," Jonathan gasped, "you’ve killed her!"

Fury came out of the rage instantly. As though inundated with ice water, her whole monumentally voluptuous body went as numb and cold as her arm.

"You murdering bitch!" he yelled.

"I—I …." Her mind wouldn’t make the words. She’d killed this woman. Whether provoked or not, she’d killed her!

"Jen …." The millionaire sobbed as he climbed into the ring and knelt at his wife’s side. "Oh Jen …."

Fury stood there, turned to stone. Her career, her life crashed about her. She sank to her booted knees and began to weep.

Then Jonathan stood. "I think that’s enough."

JENNIFER OPENED HER EYES! "You got it all?"

HE HELPED HER UP! "On all 4 cameras, once I figured out what you were aiming for. It’ll look great."

"What?" Fury was startled by her own voice. She sounded like a child caught with her hands in the cookie jar.

The couple turned to her. The coldly triumphant looks on their faces were so similar they could have been twins. Jonathan gloated, "What else? A tape of the great and wonderful Savage Fury abusing her super-powers by almost killing my wife in a jealous rage!"

The Fabulous Female stared. Feeling was coming back to her arm, but she didn’t notice. The sexual super-sensitivity was fading, but she didn’t notice.

Just then, the world could have ended and she wouldn’t have noticed.

"I was a stuntgirl before I got into modeling," Jennifer smiled. "Nice to see I can still fool ‘em."

"Well, it wasn’t like this one was a challenge," her husband put in.

She gave him a look but Savage Fury didn’t notice. She was a million miles away.

The way you and Jonathan danced last night … everyone must have seen the two of you leave … if they show that video ….

Trapped again … again … again ….

And this time for good.

"W-why?" Fury managed to gasp.

"I told you," the millionaire sneered, "it’s my darling’s birthday. I was going to surprise her with a complete story on videotape of the humiliation and subjugation of the elephant-uddered superbitch she’s always hated most. But since you spoiled that, we’ve had a better idea."

"You’re my present!" Jennifer crowed.

Savage Fury stared at them both. Numb with shock and despair. All her immense strength, her powers—useless. She could tear these two sadists to pieces, bring down this entire house. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t react.

"N-no, oh no." Did that plaintive moan come from her? "P-please, no."

Jonathan came towards her. "But ‘please’ is what you’re going to do, Supertits. ‘Please’ us both."

He reached out to brazenly heft and fondle Fury’s gargantuan milkbags. She let him, could only watch tearfully as his hands groped and kneaded those titanic doughy pumpkins. The muscular glove-sheathed arms hung limp at her sides that could toss cars about like basketballs and tie inch-thick steel bars into knots as easily as pulling taffy.

Useless as taffy themselves.

They didn’t even twitch when he took her hard thumb-sized teats in his fingers and pinched them (Fury winced), pulled them out and let them snap back again (Fury bit her luscious lower lip). The mammoth soft globes sloshed heavily.

Jennifer knelt before her. Hidden beneath the gigantic jugs that Jonathan mauled with increasing cruelty (sinking his fingers to the second knuckle in all that heaving jiggling boob blubber), the helpless overwhelmed Thighbooted Thunderbolt couldn’t see but felt the blonde beauty open her still-dangling pussylips. She pulled them wide and gave them a pinch that made Fury stiffen with a gasp.

"What d’you think?" Jonathan asked, smiling pleasantly into Fury’s pain-etched masked face as he took her monstrous mamms by their nipples and swung them from side to side like a hulking pair of hammocks, slapping them meatily into one another.

"She’s beautiful inside, the bitch!" came from below. A soft feathery breath on her clit made the ponderous-pontooned paladin shiver. "Look at that—it’s the size of my little finger!"

"I was amazed at how tight she is. Her asshole too."

"Yes, considering the truckloads of meat the cow’s taken in from both ends."

"She’s a regular butcher shop."

Laughter from below. Fingers probed the Masked Mammazon’s delicate fuckfolds. Cowled face burning with her miserable shame, Fury sucked air through clenched teeth.

"She’s already lubing up again!"

Then something else—something cold looped around her clit as though it had been lasso’d. Fury reached for her crotch, but Jonathan twisted her nipples hard and she froze.

"Ah ahh."

Jennifer straightened, showed the hapless humiliated heroine one end of a strand of fishing line. She didn’t have to say what precious pearl the other end held captive.

"Looks like we caught us a big one, darling."

"Is it secure?" Jonathan asked, eyes never leaving Fury’s, her sensitive finger-teats clamped in his fingers.

"If she so much as tries to touch her twat—"

Fury screamed as Jennifer yanked the line loop tight around her tender clit. She dropped to her thighbooted knees before the two sadists and bawled.

They gazed impassively down at the wailing stupendously scantclad superwoman who knelt before them. Even on her knees, Fury’s cowled head was level with Jennifer’s tits.

Jelloblimps jiggling vastly with her sobs, she was a vision of wretched blubbering misery.

"Magnificent!" Jonathan breathed.

Jennifer gave the line a slight tug and Fury scrambled to her feet again. Stared down at the pair, sniffling. Though she was standing and a full head taller than either, she might as well have still been on her knees.

"The best birthday present ever. Thank you, darling!" Jennifer Hard gave her husband a light peck on the cheek.

-13-

It was right in the middle of it all (and as usual so was she) when Savage Fury realized she’d had Enough.

No, more like

ENOUGH!!!!!!

Jonathan was fucking her masked face, sliding his mammoth dick between Fury’s opulent lips till she choked on it, then pulling out and pushing in again—mechanically, like he was using a machine of some kind, even though he was big as a house in her widestretched mouth. And Jennifer was cramming an even bigger strap-on hogleg into the Savage Sensation’s raw no-longer-puckered asshole. The curving appliance was so big that even with Fury’s well-reamed anus the blonde sadist had to pound it in with a hammer the first time before strapping it (and the sobbing abjectly hunkered super-Amazon) on.

The only sounds in the room were Fury’s grunts and gasps of pain and the juicy sucking sounds her drooling lips made around the well-lubed bull dork Jonathan pumped into her mouth. She sucked the great rigid dong earnestly because every time she slowed down or so much as paused to take a breath, Jennifer would give the clit line a tug and the Thighbooted Thunderbolt hated the way they chuckled and giggled at her shrill bleats even more than the humiliating way they were doing her. Every so often her tormentors would pause to slap a high five over her broad bare back, usually after yet another tortured groaning orgasm and flood of cum down the gargantuan-globed Glamazon’s thighs into her boots.

It was about the 4th or 5th time that happened (could’ve as easily been the 6th or 10th) and Jonathan was stirring his huge cock around in her mouth with his balls bouncing against her chin making her gag on all that rampant gristle and Jennifer had finally managed to force the massive faux member all the way to its fake balls between the Thighbooted Thunderbolt’s lavish sweaty buttcheeks (to her upper intestine, or so it felt), and Fury thought (in a small distant place where she could still think) that she knew now how a shishkabob felt

when the latest jubilant slap of palms over her cowled head Did Something that hadn’t been Done before. Or maybe reached Something that had been hiding beyond Reach for the past (how long? hours? days?). Something the despairing degraded double-dirigibled ex-dominatrix wasn’t sure could be done any more.

Suddenly the Cowled Crusader pulled her mouth off the huge organ before her—a second too late to avoid the spurt of thick gooey sperm that splashed her mask and cheeks (but at least you didn’t have to swallow this load too). Blinded, Fury jumped to her spikeheeled feet and, without pausing to wipe the sticky goop from her face,

fled wildly, madly from the room! Got about five steps before the wire looped about her clit and wound about Jennifer’s hand pulled taut.

Later, Paige Powers reflected that if she’d known how much it would hurt, how utterly paralyzing the pain would be, she wouldn’t have had the nerve to try it—that was how far down the two sadists had pushed her.

"AAAAGGGHHHHHH!!"

The Thighbooted Thunderbolt stumbled to her knees at the blinding flash of purest excruciating agony from her pussy

just a momentary burst, but enough to numb her from the waist down

before the tiny noose, thoroughly lubricated by Fury’s continuous climaxes (or you might have blacked out), slipped free.

The hapless howling heroine smashed through the steel door as though it was cardboard, stumbled blindly up the stairs

and would have shattered all the doors between her and the outside like a cannonball, except that, magically, each and every one of them was wide open for her.

As she raced down the driveway Fury stumbled and, picking herself up, glanced behind to see the butler sedately close the front doors from within.

The sobbing stupendous superwoman didn’t slow down until she got home. Thank God it was Monday and the neighborhood was deserted, because she was way past caring who saw her almost jerk her own front door off its hinges then slam it behind her, so hard the impact echoed like a cannon shot and the whole house shook.

It was when she was stripping off her costume that she noticed Jennifer Hard’s enormous dildo still jammed to the balls up her great ass. She hadn’t even felt it in there, all the way home. Fury pulled it out with a grunt and crumpled it to a wad of plastic the size of a marble—a pea—a grain of sand.

Then showered till the hot water ran out. Sat crumpled in a corner of the stall whimpering but still didn’t feel clean. Wondered if she ever would again. At full power, dry and undrugged, Savage Fury had never been beaten by non-super villains before. And not just beaten, but humiliated and degraded.

It was just sex, it was just more fucking and sucking and bondage!

No, it was a lot more. She’d been slow and stupid and gullible and helpless before her own weird sex drive. Jennifer had told the truth about catching "a big one." They’d played her like an Amazonian fish, reeled her in and boated her, and done what they wanted with her.

No, not with you, with Savage Fury.

That’s right! Let them play their video for everyone in the city! It can’t touch you if Savage Fury just disappears!

And so she did.