DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 OR EASILY OFFENDED BY SEXUAL MATERIAL, BONDAGE, DISCIPLINE, FEMALE SUBMISSION OR OTHER SEXUAL SITUATIONS.

Ms Americana/Brenda Wade, Flag Girl/Lydia Wills, Got Gal, Got Chic, Green Spectre/Axanna Morgan, Spectre Girl/Summer Morgan, Lady Midnight/Angela Grear and Azure Angel are the creations of Mr. X. I came up with the other villains.

This is a novel length story. I have already completed it.

Please direct all comments and feedback to dark_one@live.com. Put Ms Americana, Novel, Reversal of Fortunes or Story feedback in subject line, otherwise I will think it is spam and delete. Or visit my blog at: http://writer-dark-one.livejournal.com/.

MS AMERICANA: REVERSAL OF FORTUNES

By Dark One

Ms Americana threw back her head, shaking out her lustrous, long black mane and stretched sensuously. She felt the thin satiny fabric of her skimpy, red, white and blue, star-spangled and striped bikini top stretched to the very limit of its tensile strength as her magnificent 38Gs threatened to break free. She arched her back, loving the feeling of taut muscles being stretched and strained after so many hours of inactivity. Then she stood straight, crossed her long, shapely legs and bent over to place red gloved hands flat on the ground to either side of her red booted feet.

“Oh, yes, that feels good,” Ms Americana murmured.

After a moment, she rose back up and tugged up on the bikini bottoms, with the same patriotic theme as the top, French cut and so skimpy she had to have extreme bikini waxes, leaving only the tiniest of furry patches behind. Then she turned toward the neon-lit street stretched out five stories below and struck a classic super heroine pose: head high, chest out and hands on hip. Delta City's top club district was just off downtown, bisected by the street they were overlooking, Delta Street. The best, most exclusive clubs were on Delta Street, with the lesser clubs on the adjacent streets.

Conducting a stakeout was a grueling affair. But it had to be done. And this location was ground zero of over half of the abductions. White slavers were kidnapping the city’s most beautiful, richest debutantes and heiresses. But instead of demanding ransoms the monstrous men were selling the delicate beauties into prostitution.

“This waiting is killing me, too,” Flag Girl said.

The Queen of Justice’s sexy blonde sidekick was five inches shorter than Ms Americana’s six foot one body, and her 36Ds were impressive on her smaller body, but they were in no way in the same league as her mentor’s 38Gs. Flag Girl’s nineteen year old body was Olympic athletic fit, but bikini model shapely. Like Ms Americana’s shapely body, it was scantily clad in her red, white and blue costume: snug blue top with a sprinkling of white starts and a large round cutout above her deep cleavage, skin tight short-shorts of vertical red and white stripes, and red calf boots. Blue gloves and a matching mask completed her costume.

Of course, they shared one “accessory” that set them heads and shoulders above normal women -- Power belts. The golden power belts that encircled their narrow, toned waists energized their bodies so that they were ten times stronger than a man, had greater endurance and phenomenal healing abilities. And, it provided a much needed protection against guns with its force shield.

“We’re women of action, my friend,” Ms Americana said, adjusting the golden tiara above her blue, star-spangled mask. “This is where our resolve is tested. But we are determined to end the white slavers’ reign of terror once and for all, and will not rest until they are in jail paying for their terrible crimes.”

“I just hope we get a break soon,” Flag Girl said. “The press is starting to call them the Debutante-a-Day Gang.”

“I know, how horrible,” she said, scrunching up her nose under the mask. Horrible, but accurate, since they had kidnapped forty-two rich girls in the forty-five days they’ve operated in Delta City. The worse part, Ms Americana personally knew thirty-six of the missing women, and twenty-one were friends of her and Flag Girl as their alter egos Brenda Wade and Lydia Wills. “That kind of name just glorifies them, and helps inspire copy cats.”

It was never spoken, but Lydia was herself a prime target of the white slavers. She was young, beautiful and the heir to a fabulous fortune. As Lydia, Flag Girl had to be extremely alert to her surroundings at all times. As Brenda, Ms Americana worried about her whenever she was out of the house alone, and teenage girls liked to be with friends and party a lot. And, if she was honest with herself, she knew even her alter ego Brenda Wade was a potential target. A very good friend, Ashley Winston, went missing two weeks back, and was thought another victim of the slavers. And Ashley was a very youthful looking thirty-six, while Brenda was an even more youthful looking thirty-one.

“Girl,” Flag Girl said, perking up and lifting a huge pair of night vision binoculars to her eyes. She always got excited when a potential victim appeared. Victim meant the white slavers showed themselves, and gave the super powered duo the chance to capture them. “Oh, it Hilary Hightower.”

“Really?” Ms Americana said, smiling. Hilary was Lydia’s best friend as a pre-teen. Before Lydia began her training to become Flag Girl, the two pre-teens were inseparatable. The Hightower estate was next to Wade Manor. “I haven’t seen her in weeks. How is she doing?”

“Oh, she’s great,” Lydia said. She glanced over her shoulder with a mischievous grin. “She’s got a new boyfriend.”

Ms Americana laughed. Hilary always seemed to have a new boyfriend.

“Oh my Goddess!” Flag Girl gasped after looking back down through the super powerful night vision binoculars. “She’s not alone. Two men are guiding her toward a van. Oh no, she’s staggering.”

“White slavers?” Ms Americana said, blood running cold.

“Yes!”

They raced to the side of the building. They had setup a special “fireman’s” pole up the side, that they just jumped on and slid straight down. Ms Americana hit the ground hard, bending her knees to absorb the impact and darting aside. Seconds later Lydia’s stilettos struck the concrete with a loud, rifle like report. In seconds both super heroines were in the red, white and blue Americana Mobile. The powerful engine roared to life and Ms Americana hit the gas.

The white slavers’ van passed just before the Americana Mobile raced out of the alley and turned on squealing wheels in hot pursuit. Seconds later the van lurched forward, racing away desperately. Ms Americana smiled when she thought of the consternation, if not blind fear, the slavers felt when they first realized she was after them.

“Don’t let them get away,” Lydia said needlessly, leaning forward in the passenger seat and looking truly concerned for her captured friend.

“Don’t worry. We’ll save Hilary,” Ms Americana said. “And put those vile miscreants behind bars, where they belong.”

The van suddenly turned off the street and into a park. Ms Americana followed. Then when the van tried to turn too sharply, it slid sideways into a tree and stopped. The white slavers staggered out of the van, Hilary in tow. The beautiful blonde heiress was handcuffed and her top was torn open to reveal bouncy, perky tits. There were four white slavers all totaled. Seconds later Ms Americana and Flag Girl skidded to a halt beside them and bailed out of the car.

“Halt in the name of the law, miscreants!” Ms Americana called arrogantly. “You cannot escape now.”

“That’s right, Ms Americana and Flag Girl have arrived to mete justice,” Flag Girl declared, blue eyes flashing hotly behind her blue mask. Even with the girlie blonde pigtails she looked fierce at that moment. “And no one escapes us.”

“Yeah?” one of the slavers snarled. He was tall, blonde and dark eyed. Ms Americana guessed his age at around thirty. “Escape this, Ms Ameri-jugs!”

He lifted a 9mm Beretta and popped off six shots -- four at Ms Americana and two at Flag Girl. Ms Americana grinned when his eyes went wide. The bullets had no effect on them. There was no obvious blocking of the bullets by their force shields, so as far as he knew the bullets just bounced off of them. He then emptied his nearly depleted magazine at Ms Americana.

“Kill them!” he cried, reaching for another clip.

The other three white slavers emptied their pistols at the super heroines, who just grinned at them. Ms Americana loved to cause evil men distress. Served them right. She could’ve charged in and tossed them all around, but she kind of enjoyed watching their faces as it slowly dawned on them they were doomed. They could not defeat Delta City’s premier super heroine and her sidekick.

“I’ll give you one more chance to drop your guns and surrender,” Ms Americana said forcefully when silence struck them all suddenly as the men ran out of bullets almost as one and all reached for the next clip. “You haven’t got a chance against us, and you know it.”

“Yeah, do the right thing for once and surrender,” Flag Girl said. “Before one of your stray bullets actually hits some innocent bystander.”

“Innocent bystander?” their leader, the blonde, said, then grabbed Hilary. He sneered at them as he pressed the barrel of the nickel plated pistol to her head, and said, “You mean like Miss Hightower here?”

Ms Americana and Flag Girl both gasped, eyes wide and hands reaching toward Hilary in helplessness. The blonde slaver grinned victoriously.

“I swear, if you hurt a single hair…,” Ms Americana said.

“Don’t worry, Hilary, everything will be all right,” Flag Girl said soothingly.

“Everything will be fine IF you two heroic BIMBOS cooperate,” he said.

“I don’t want to die!” Hilary cried. “Do what he says! Please.”

“Todd, get the van ready to go,” he said. The indicated man nodded and raced around to the driver’s side. Then to the other two, he nodded and said, “Mike, take Randy and go check out the street. Make sure no one is going to interrupt us here.”

“Yeah, right, Jack,” Mike said. He was short and burly, with broad shoulders and no neck. Randy was tall and strong looking, easily six foot five, with shaggy brown hair and a pale imitation of a beard. “We got it, dude.”

Ms Americana watched them just long enough to ensure they weren’t immediately going to circle around and attack them from the rear. She knew they should’ve, but her theory that they were just dumb men proved correct when they really did head toward the street a good one hundred feet away. Then she turned back and locked flashing baby blues on their leader -- Jack.

“One hundred lookouts aren’t going to save you, Jack-off,” Ms Americana said. His eyes narrowed slightly when she abused his name like that. Turnabout felt good. “You seem an intelligent man. So you should see the hopelessness of your situation. Surrender nice and easy and no one will get hurt.”

“Are you kidding, Ameri-bimbo? I’ve sent forty-some-odd of the city’s brightest, wealthiest, and most beautiful daughters into foreign white slavery,” he said. “The city’s leaders are going to want blood. If I surrender, I’ll spend the rest of my life behind bars. No thank you.”

“You have no choice, miscreant,” Flag Girl said, blue eyes intense and angry.

“Oh, but I do,” he said, leering at them. He pressed the gun hard into poor Hilary’s neck. “Take off your tops, or I’ll kill her.”

“I don’t want to die,” Hilary squeaked out, almost too terrified to speak.

“You’ll get the death penalty,” Ms Americana declared.

“Better than rotting in prison,” he said, face fierce and determined. “So, what’s it going to be? Naked tits or dead heiress?”

“Please, do as he says,” Hilary begged pitifully.

“You vile, disgusting bastard,” Ms Americana growled as she reached between her huge breasts to the snap. She unsnapped and pulled the bikini top apart, releasing her legendary 38Gs to drop and bounce enticingly before Jack’s lusty gaze. “You will pay dearly for this outrage.”

Ms Americana stood before the stunned white slaver with heart pounding and face burning in shame, her top dangling from her hand. In sixteen years as a super heroine she’d never been so humiliated. If word got out about this it would surely tarnish her sterling reputation.

“My thoughts exactly,” he said, eyes glued to her heaving chest. “I have an incredible urge to stuff one dollar bills under your bikini bottoms.”

“Oh! You ….,” she sputtered.

“Yes, me,” he laughed. Then his eyes hardened. “Now you toss the top away and then Flag Twit can remove her top.”

“What? Me, too?” Flag Girl gasped. “But, that isn’t right? I’m a good girl, darn it.”

“Don’t play that girl game with me, Blondie,” he said. “Lose the top or the heiress here will become a bloody ‘airhead,’ if you know what I mean.”

“Don’t worry, my friend,” Ms Americana said as the sexy nineteen year old sidekick unzipped her star-spangled blue top and tossed it aside. Jack’s eyes once again became momentarily mesmerized by the erotic sight before him. “We will make sure he pays for this, very dearly indeed.”

“Good girl,” Jack sneered. Then he grinned. “Take off your bottoms now.”

Both super heroines rolled their eyes disbelievingly. Neither thought it would ever go that far. Their faces flamed up bright red as they hooked gloved thumbs under the sides of the bottoms, and slowly slid them down two sets of shapely legs. Jack had to take a deep breath and swallow twice.

“OK, now the coup de grace,” Jack said. “Take off the belts.”

”NO!” Flag Girl cried.

“We can’t do that,” Ms Americana said, heart really starting to hammer now.

“Of course you can. All you have to do is remind yourselves it is to save poor little Hilary’s miserable life,” he said.

Flag Girl leaned over to her and whispered, “Ms A, what do we do? Without our power belts we are as helpless as Hilary. He’ll sell us into white slavery too.”

“I know, my friend. But we have the advantage,” she said slyly. “He surely thinks our super strength will be lost the moment we remove the belts, but as long as we are holding the belts we are super strong.”

“Oh, I see. Take off the belt, but don’t toss it aside,” she said. “Then what?”

“Start slowly working your way closer and closer,” she said. “But I suspect he will push Hilary aside right away and try to take me.”

“And you will wallop him good.”

“Oh yes.”

“What the hell are you two bimbos yakking about?” Jack said angrily. “No more whispering. Get the damn belts off, or Hilary will become the most brainless bimbo in Delta City.”

“No problem,” Ms Americana said, reaching to the small of her back and unfastening the power belt that made her a super heroine. She saw Flag Girl do the same out the corner of her eye. “There. It’s off. Now what? Something a little more HANDS ON?”

Jack’s breath caught at the thought, making her fight to hold back the smile. She knew men better than they knew themselves. And Ms Americana had never seen a more horny looking man than Jack right then. Indeed, his excitement was contagious. The stripped super heroine felt a little twinge of arousal in her pussy, and even her nipples became aroused and more sensitive. She took a deep breath, thrusting out her 38Gs. He swallowed hard, eyes locked on her now semi-erect nipples.

She took a step closer.

“What?” he said. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” she said innocently. “I’ve just surrendered to your mercy. Now what? Are you going to, I don’t know….SEARCH me?”

“Oh, my, I don’t know if I can handle your lusty hands all over my young, nubile body,” Flag Girl said breathlessly.

“What about mine?” another voice said from behind.

Before the two super heroines realized the danger, Mike and Randy snuck up behind them. Randy threw a surprisingly strong arm around Ms Americana’s chest and then clamped a damp cloth over her nose and mouth. Ms Americana noticed Mike did the same to Flag Girl. Unfortunately, her sidekick was so surprised she dropped her power belt.

“Nnnnnuuuuu!” Ms Americana screamed as Flag Girl’s belt fell from surprised fingers.

“Welcome to sexual slavery, Ms Americana,” Randy whispered into her ear. “Now breathe deeply.”

With her last breath expended with the scream, Ms Americana involuntarily sucked in a deep breath. She instantly realized her mistake.

<Chloroform!> she thought.

The intoxicating fumes ripped through her head. Everything suddenly tilted. Involuntarily, she dropped the power belt to grab at his wrists. Too late she realized she was panicking and had made a fatal mistake.

<My belt….oh…Great Liberty, I’ve been outwitted and captured,> she thought groggily. She clutched weakly at Randy’s wrists, unable to pull away the hand holding the chloroform to her face. She finally had to take another breathe.

“Uuugghhh,” she groaned.

<So weak,> she thought. Her hands fell to her sides, too weak to struggle any more. Then her knees buckled. <I don’t under….Why?....ooohh, so sleepy.>

“Oh yeah,” Jack said right before her. She struggled to clear her vision, blinking rapidly. He grinned at her, then reached out and cupped her tits lovingly. He looked awestruck as he weighed them, squeezed and caressed her magnificent white tits. “I’m going to really enjoy this.”

Suddenly, Ms Americana realized the chloroform cloth was gone. She was breathing clean air again. Hope sprang alive, but there wasn’t any spring in her limbs. The chloroform she already breathed in had done a number on her.

Randy twisted both of her arms behind her back painfully.

“Uggh,” she groaned, barely managing to get her shaky legs back under herself and stand. Suddenly, the five inch stilettos were hard to stand in. But Randy was holding tight, keeping her from falling. “You’re not going to get away with this, miscreant.”

“Oh, yes I am,” Jack said. He started pinching and pulling her nipples. She gasped and writhed in Randy’s strong grasp. Then Jack began rolling her nipples between two fingers, and in no time they were both rock hard and she was panting. “Having fun already, Ms Ameri-harlot?”

“Wow, Jack, you were right,” Randy said.

“I told you, super heroines are all a bunch of suppressed whores, taking their sexual frustrations out on men like us,” Jack said. His right hand dropped down to cup her bikini waxed cunt. “Wet. I suspected as much.”

“Pig,” she snarled. He laughed and curled his middle finger up, and to her surprise it penetrated her tingling nether lips without resistance. A jolt of pure wicked pleasure ripped through her. “Oohh. Great Liberty.”

“I’ve made a special study of Ms Americana and Flag Girl,” Jack said. He worked his finger up and down her slick slit, enjoying the way she gasped and groaned, how her eyes would go wide in shock, then roll up, then wide again, depending on what he was doing. “Do you know how her power belt works?”

“No,” Randy said. “Never thought about it.”

“The power belt these two wear requires that they have enormous amounts of pent up sexual frustrations,” he said, then pushed his middle finger up Ms Americana’s vagina. She gasped and her body jerked, making her 38Gs bounce and jiggle. “So, that means they never get any, otherwise their power belts wouldn’t work.”

The tingling in her pussy intensified. Now that erotic tingle consumed her body from cunt to tits, and even up her throat. She could barely swallow. Couldn’t breathe except in panting gasps. Then glancing to her right, she spotted Flag Girl on her knees, bent over and face in the cool grass. To her horror, she watched as Mike pulled out and thrust a massive cock deep into her sexy sidekicks glistening pussy.

“Looks like fun, doesn’t it, Ameri-slut?” Jack said with a husky voice now. “I think it’s time I put you in your place as well.”

“No…wait,” Ms Americana gasped out. Then she heard it. The sweetest music imaginable. Sirens. “The police!”

“Crap,” Jack said. “Todd, get that damn van started!”

“Let’s go, Ms Americana,” Randy said, starting to push her toward the van.

She panicked. Glancing down, she saw her power belt not a foot away on the grass. And she saw Randy’s big foot. Her baby blues flashed, and she lifted her right foot high, and then stomped down hard, driving her sharp stiletto into the top Randy’s foot.

“Eeeiiiioooowwww!” Randy cried, pushing her away.

Ms Americana fell on her belt. She immediately felt super strength start to flood into her body. Clutching it to her bosom, she rolled away from the two slavers and up to her knees. In a flash she had the belt around her waist and snapped. Now, no one could remove it without her consent.

“She has her belt!” Jack cried. He lashed out with a foot, kicking Ms Americana in the side of the head. The chloroform was still playing with her reaction time, but she was still strong and tough, so rolled with the blow and started for Flag Girl and her abuser. “Watch out, Mike!”

Mike pulled out of the sexy sidekick and jumped to his feet. Next thing Ms Americana knew was they were piling into the van, it’s engine roared to life and they peeled out to vanish into the dark wooded park.

Ms Americana ignored the escaping white slavers while she got Flag Girl’s power belt around her tiny waist. Flag Girl immediately breathed a sigh of relief. Then a dozen police officers raced up afoot, panting and winded.

“Ms Americana? What happened?” a cop asked.

“Don’t ask,” she said, scowling.

“’Where’s Hilary?” Flag Girl said. “No! They took Hilary.”

“Great Liberty,” Ms Americana said, shamed that she totally forgot about the victim, thus allowing the white slavers to take her away into a living nightmare.

The two shaken super heroines quickly collected and donned their costumes as the police gawked at them. Many had painful looking bulges in their trousers.