HARDER THAN HARD

A Cheerful Interlude

Part 2

Walt was so intent on getting home that he didn’t even know he was being pulled over until the cop behind him gave his siren a growl. A glance at his speedometer showed why.

"Shit—65 in a 45!"

What annoyed him most wasn’t the $200 fine, but that this would delay his getting home. The whole day, it seemed, had been like this: he’d had to dodge one reason after another for staying late.

And today of all days! Finally, after over a month, Paige had agreed to go out for a night on the town. Not that he minded staying in, but night after night got to be a little, well, dull. Even with his awesome wife for company, bouncing and jiggling as only she could, he was more than ready for a Big Night Out.

What he couldn’t figure out was why she’d been such a homebody for the last few weeks. In a way it was great because the place was cleaner than it had ever been. Housework had never been Paige’s forte but lately she’d seemed to live for it. And the sex was fabulous—she’d literally fuck him to sleep every night if he let her.

If it was anyone but Paige, he’d suspect her of having an affair.

But speaking of showing her off—the cop was getting out of his car. Maybe the Paige Maneuver would work again. Cops seemed especially vulnerable—probably not enough motherly love as kids.

As the cop came up on his left he reached into the glove box for his registration and proof of insurance … and the envelope at the bottom of the pile, where his wife would never see it.

And as he handed the cop his documents he said (with his best-practiced and most ingratiating smile), "Guess I was speeding, officer. Been out of town for a couple of months and I guess I couldn’t wait an extra minute to get home to my wife." Which was the truth, if not exactly the facts!

"This is her." And he showed him The Photo.

Busy with the ticket, the cop only gave it a glance. Then he did a take and gave the photo his entire wide-eyed attention.

The cop wet his lips. "Uh—this is your wife?"

Walt pointed. "That’s me." The last photo he’d used was of Paige by herself and no one would believe he even knew her, let alone they were married. They all thought he’d taken the picture at some strip club and everyone wanted to know which one.

They sure as hell didn’t know Paige! She hated to even drive by strip joints! Himself, he hadn’t gone near one since they’d hooked up. And the guys at work never bothered to invite him when they went—they knew what he had waiting for him at home. Why visit the Poconos when you live amidst the Himalayas?

So this new shot included him, leaning into the frame with his head on Paige’s shoulder (and that dipshit grin). Like that last one, she was in her frizzy blonde "afro" wig and oversize sunglasses. As though anyone would look at her face (sweet and beautiful though it was).

His head was about all there was room for, because most of the picture was taken up with Paige’s tits, immense spheres sheerly encased in a white T-shirt strrreeetttched and strrrainned to limits its manufacturer probably never dreamed of. Her nipples were outlined against the thin cotton as dark circles the size of silver dollars with their teats pointing like thumbs through the material.

Paige would pitch a fit if she knew he was showing this picture around (it was one of many strictly for private consumption), but this wouldn’t be the first ticket it had saved him from. He just hoped the wig and glasses would be enough if this cop or the other two ever stopped Paige.

"Wow," the cop finally said. It came out like sandpaper.

"And believe it—they’re allll natural."

"She looks like she cornered the market in silicone."

Walt just smiled. Not like the cat who ate the canary, but like the cat who found where all the canaries were kept. The cop couldn’t take his eyes off the photo.

"Look, uh …. "

"Keep it," Walt said with his best magnanimity. "She won’t mind. She, uh, likes to be looked at anyway." That always sounded so lame. Paige did enjoy admiration, but too much from strangers made her nervous and self-conscious.

The cop stepped back, suddenly all business again. He wondered if he’d blown it. But the photo disappeared into a breast pocket (appropriate, Walt thought) and the ticket book was flipped shut.

"Be more careful along this stretch," the cop said.

"Yessir, officer, I sure will."

And that was that. It felt like years before the cop finally drove off—and it was damn near impossible for Walt to keep his speed anywhere near the legal limit the entire rest of the way home.

And then, after all that waiting and anticipation, all the planning and hassle: keeping the whole evening free (which was going to cost him tomorrow, The Boss was less than pleased), the reservations (which cost him $100 extra because the place had been booked solid), AND the new suit (he needed one anyway but could’ve put it off till bonus time, there were a lot of more important expenses)—

He practically raced up the walkway, almost tore the front door from its hinges—

And froze.

At the sight of the dining room table all decked out in their best china and silverware and burning candles and Paige’s grandmother’s table cloth, and the (undeniably mouth-watering but still!) odor of broiling steaks that filled the house.

He started to get the feeling that yet another night out had been scrubbed.

And he really was going to get mad at Paige (well, a little) because she’d promised and he really was going to talk to her about why she didn’t want to go out any more (was it him?)

When she came out of the bedroom in a fragrant cloud of Chanel (his favorite) wearing that tentative apologetic smile that she so rarely needed (but he was always flattered that she thought she did, as though he couldn’t forgive anything).

But sweet though it was, to even notice that smile you had to have been married to Paige for several years. Because with the Chanel and the smile she was wearing The Evening Gown, the one she’d worn once and never again because of the near-riot it had caused at that night club.

It wasn’t that The Gown didn’t cover everything—which with Paige was a LOT of "everything." Not even that it was especially tight—though it outlined the deep-scooped dimple of her navel.

It was just that the gown looked impossible. It was a copy (with some necessary alterations) of the black satin gown that Rita Hayworth (Paige’s all-time fave actress) wore in "Gilda." It was therefore strapless, which on Rita was one thing but on Paige, whose chest lived in a far-distant area of the alphabet, quite another.

He didn’t know how the designer of The Gown had achieved his engineering miracle or what it had cost (since Paige had spent her own money) but the result was unbelievable: as she swayed into the living room towards him her immense shimmying tits seemed to float ahead of her in their sheer black bustier as though filled with a combination of jello and helium. They didn’t sag at all, contradicting a whole bunch of physical laws about mass and gravity and stuff.

But even that wasn’t what had almost caused the riot (though the way her impossibly-projecting monster-boobs entered the room a full minute before the rest of her certainly got things going). It was the way they jiggled and shimmied and generally carried on all over that bustier, always threatened (or promised) to overflow or at least pop a coaster-sized nipple out—and never did! The first and only time he and Paige danced (a samba, as he recalled) the whole dance floor dissolved into chaos within minutes—even the orchestra lost its place!

So now here They came, outrageously outthrust and swingin’ and swayin’, and here She came behind them, smilin’ and smokin’ and 6½ feet of pure flesh-fantasy in heels, all just for him.

He knew he was being manipulated. He knew she’d changed her mind about going out and all this was to make it all right with him and she wouldn’t have to explain why. Not the first time she’d used that awesome body of hers to do it either—not even the first hundredth.

But shit, he didn’t care.

"So, darlin’," he said, as casual and unassuming as you please. "What’s for dinner?"

Her answering smile decided him that tonight he was definitely going to let her fuck him to sleep.

-2-

She waited in the dark hallway and listened to the clock tick. She wasn’t wearing her cowl so she could only hear the one in the nearest room and she couldn’t see much at all, only what was revealed by moonlight through the skylight and classroom doors. But the cowl would have been too much. She’d sworn never to wear That Costume or be That Loser again. All she needed was a mask—like anyone ever looked at her face anyway—and she not only had a nice one but a wig as well that gave her an ebon mane like Wonder Woman or Ms. Americana.

Like anyone ever looked at her hair.

She didn’t like being without her super-senses or the invulnerability that she lost without the bodysuit, but they hadn’t done her much good lately anyway. All she really needed were the boots and gloves; with the super-strength and speed they gave her and this new costume she could handle just about anything.

What she wished most of all was that she didn’t have to be here, in any costume. She’d only been out once in this one and already it had gotten her in trouble.

But she had no choice. Not this time. And as for pain and humiliation ….

Cautiously, she moved down the hall a couple of doors to one she remembered as a boys’ bathroom. Didn’t want to go near the girls’ john next door. Pushed it open sloowly and slipped in. Waited till she was sure the only sound was her pounding heart and the only occupant was she, and flipped on the lights.

Blinked in the sudden dazzle of linoleum and porcelain and her own reflection in the wall of mirrors opposite. The row of urinals to her left and stalls against the opposite wall.

The costume was all golden stars, stuck to her awesomely overblown body at strategic places: two covered her big dark nipples (well, most of them anyway) while a larger one between her muscular thighs capped the mound of her pussy and covered her thick bush (well, most of it anyway—she hoped no one would notice that the pubic strands curling out around the star’s points were red and not black).

She did a pirouette to check the star nestled into the crevice between her great buttcheeks. It barely made it out of the deep cleft between those glossy domes but at least covered her asshole. The problem was, her lavish cheeks shook and shimmied so much when she ran that the star kept working its way out.

So there were some bugs yet. She really loved the mask—2 translucent gold stars linked over her nose. She’d never liked the cowl’s eye-slits, they restricted her view too much and sometimes got her into some serious fixes when trouble came at her from the sides. These wouldn’t do much to protect her identity of course, she was counting on the wig (and the fact that with titanic nakedly-jiggling tits like hers no one ever really looked at her face) to take care of that.

And speaking of scumbags ….

SuperNova read the note again (like you don’t have it memorized!):

"We know who you are and if you don’t want to be exposed, be where you were 3 nights ago at the same time tonight."

Paige had found it in the mailbox and thanked God she’d been expecting a catalog and checked—usually Walt brought the mail in and she had no idea in the world how she’d have explained that to him!

So here she was, back at her old high school at midnight, the same time she’d been here three nights ago when she was working out in the new costume to get used to the different way it felt on her. She’d gotten the feel of her powers and first costume here, so it felt familiar. It was also a way of erasing all those bad old memories from her high school years.

At least she’d gotten some satisfaction her first official night as the new heroine SuperNova, and a promising beginning. After working out on the track and getting used to the new costume she hit the rooftops and took a well-remembered aerial route toward a particularly nasty part of the Valley. The exercise made her feel pumped and ready to try out her brand spankin’ (well, maybe not that exactly) new self.

And she found what she was looking for (and was maybe the teensiest bit afraid of finding, given everything that had happened) all too quickly. Resting on a roof just off the Boulevard in a section that was mostly strip joints and bars and book stores, she heard a breathy scream from the rear of an alley below. Unable to see down into the canyon of darkness beneath her (but I won’t wear that damned cowl) she just stepped off the roof and dropped the four stories to the alley, landing with a click of spikeheels that echoed

And froze the two huge musclemen kneeling at both ends of a woman on all fours. It was too dark to see for sure what they were doing to her but Nova had no doubts.

"Oh shit!" the bigger of the two yelled. "One of those fuckin’ superbitches!"

"How c’n you tell?" the other asked.

"Christ, lookit them tits!"

"Is that what they are?? I thought she was deliverin’ pumpkins!"

Raucous laughter. These assholes had a lot of self-confidence. The monster-titted Mammazon decided she’d have to do something about that.

She smiled.

"Back off, lady!" the first one barked. "We paid for this!"

"You haven’t begun paying," SuperNova replied.

They stood, and even 20 feet away the Amazon Avenger could see that, big as she was, the two body-builders towered over her. Which since she topped 6½ feet in her skyscraper heels, made them over 7 feet tall each, and probably at least 100 pounds heavier. All of it bulging rippling obscenely gleaming … naked … muscle, ambling casually toward her, big stiff cocks pointing the way.

She smiled wider and licked her plush lips. She could feel the beginning of that old excitement. It was like the first time she ever went into action as—

As that other character.

The girl shrank back against a wall. The two giant goons came on, rubbing hands against muscular bare flanks.

"Take your best shot, Jumbo," she sneered and threw out her gargantuan chest

(as though their piggy little eyes were focused anywhere else.)

"You don’t have to do that, bitch," the big one smiled. "Man’d have to be stone blind and 3 days dead to miss those things."

"What keeps her from fallin’ on her face?" the other, with an old-timey handlebar mustache, wondered.

"If she did, she'd bounce right back up again." Both laughed.

Revelling in her anticipation, the sumptuous star-spangled superwoman was caught off-guard when the big one suddenly leaped forward to plow a huge fist into her left chest-whopper and the Mustache accorded her right watermelon the same bludgeoning treatment.

She smiled even wider. "If I’d known this was going to be a tickling contest …."

Both musclemen stared at their fists as though they were defective. Mustache stepped forward with a brutal right across SuperNova’s jaw that didn’t touch her smile but resulted in his dancing away holding his hand and whimpering like a wounded puppy. Jumbo snarled and slammed his knee into her bulging cunt.

"Now is that polite?" the star-masked Mammazon asked lightly, and flicked out an armgloved hand as though at an annoying fly.

It barely seemed to touch the huge muscleman but suddenly he was flying back through the air as though launched from a catapult to land on a dumpster about 30 feet away and roll off it to the ground behind. Mustache charged at her with a yell and the towering titan-titted bombshell just stood there while he piled headfirst into her belly.

And didn’t even shuffle her spikeheeled feet as he dropped, stunned, to the pavement before her.

"Guys," she snickered. "If you can’t dance, get off the floor."

SuperNova plucked Mustache up by the scruff of what little neck he possessed (he choked dimly) and carried him at arms’ length like smelly garbage over to where Jumbo was just climbing dizzily to his feet next to the dumpster. Like a bag of smelly, trash, she threw them together

And proceeded to give them the most thorough and merciless beating she could, (just) short of killing them. In fact, at one point after the bodacious bombshell had shattered an elbow, Mustache whimpered, "Please … don’t kill us."

Cradling the back of his head in a gloved hand, she lifted his face gently to her stupendous bosom and fed a hard thumb-sized teat into the muscleman’s bloody pulped mouth. Almost as a reflex he began to suckle. The monster-titted Mammazon didn’t worry about him biting down; there was nothing left in there to bite with.

As she buried his face in her gargantuan doughy milkbag till not even his frightened blackened eyes were visible, she whispered, "You’ll change your tune before I’m finished—you’ll be begging me to kill you!"

From somewhere in the sweaty depths of her colossal blood-stained cleavage issued a muffled but sincere whimper.

Nova was a little out of control. She was also more than a little turned on. The second concerned her far more than the first.

From behind her came a bellow like a wounded bull. Jumbo had actually managed to climb to his feet, leaning against the alley wall, despite having both his kneecaps smashed. Face a bloody mask from a smashed nose and busted jaw, he charged her—or tried to, taking one step and falling flat on his face, then rolling over onto his back with a yelp.

SuperNova stared, so surprised she let Mustache’s head drop back to the ground with a thud.

What amazed her wasn’t the fact Jumbo could even stand after the way she'd pounded and broken him, but the reason he rolled over: a huge curving erection that bobbed like a bowsprit out of his groin.

Like a panther, she crawled on hands and knees over to that great upstanding boner. The horny humongous-hootered heroine grasped its throbbing base (her fingers couldn’t quite touch), felt the blood raging in that great organ reach right through her glove to the blood raging in her.

Jumbo moaned as she began to stroke the rigid horn. Not even looking, she backhanded him with her free hand, spattering more crimson across the pavement.

"You’re all fucking nuts!" someone yelled. SuperNova looked up to see a half-naked woman race out of the alley.

But there was that awesome dong waving about, still hard, tipped with precum, and she knew if she didn’t do something with it soon ….

Now.

Lifting a thighbooted leg, the star-masked Mammazon climbed onto the great pole and slooowly, sucking air through clenched teeth, lowered herself down its straining never-ending length

Inch

By inch

By inch

Till it filled her to bursting and she thought its bloated head would poke up into her stomach. And she was so turned on and ready that all she had to do was slide her engorged pussy up and down a few times to call forth the flood of release.

But then Jumbo came too.

"Damn!" she yelled, jumping up, his cum dripping from her gaping cunt. "You bastard!"

She had to keep herself from kicking his stupid bald head because that would kill him and she wanted both of these guys alive. Alive and helpless.

So she plunked her slack dribbling fucked-out pussy down on his stupid pain-drawn face. His little piggy eyes gazed dimly up at her.

"Clean it out," she ordered, glaring down at him between the shimmying star-capped mountains of her tits.

He just looked up at her. Didn’t appear to be tracking.

"C’mon, you put it in so you can just clean it right out again!"

He winced and after a moment she felt his tongue wiggle up into her—tentatively at first but when she reached back and grasped his balls, more energetically.

And when it was over and he’d swabbed out as much of his cum as he could (and a little of hers too), she dragged Mustache over and dumped him on top of Jumbo and straddled them and pissed all over the two battered and bloody hulks. Neither made so much as a whimper.

-3-

So someone had seen her while she was out and somehow followed her back home. Which meant they knew her secret identity. Darn her rotten luck! It looked like the old problem of what would happen "if" Walt found out about her double life was going to turn into "when." Way before she wanted it to—if ever.

Who was behind this? What did they want? Why invite her back here at this hour? Unless, maybe, they didn’t really want to expose her, but to use her for something. Besides, what good would revealing her secret identity do—other than ruin her marriage and life of course. None of her foes hated her that much—or for that matter even cared much who Sav—that other superwoman really was. No one had ever bothered to remove her cowl; everything else, but not that.

"Besides," as Badass had said to Skuzz once when he’d brought the subject of unmasked her up, "if you take the cowl off she’s just another watermelon-titted bimbo." Who, soaking wet and crouched at their feet just then, was cursing them between groans of pain, way more bravely than she felt.

"Welllll, duh! I mean, o’ course! LOTS more! … So, uh, kin I take the cowl off now?"

Her heightened nerves (not to mention the two double Scotches she’d tossed back before leaving) were having a not-unusual effect. SuperNova stepped to one of the urinals, peeled off the star over her pussy, and peed long and luxuriously. She got kind of a kick doing it in the boys’ bathroom, standing up. But she'd gotten used to that kind of thing early on.

Except for getting beat up regularly in the girls’ bathroom. That she never got used to. She'd been big in 10^th grade but not big enough to overcome the hate and envy of just about every other girl in the school. And one in particular. With a lot of friends.

Oooo, that feels so gooood! But peeing in the boys’ bathroom still made her a little nervous, even after all this time.

Every day at school she'd tried to hold it in till she got home but some times she just had to sprint for the bathroom (never quite able to ignore the catcalls and whistles her boulderous bounding boobs got from kids in the hall). And usually once a week—never the same day twice—they’d be waiting for her there: three of the varsity cheerleaders in their cute little pleated skirts and lettered sweaters and saddle shoes with white sox and the leader of this sweet little ratpack, senior class vice president Audra Fitts. All brains and no tits, as the boys said, which made her and Paige exact opposites.

And her implacable foe starting the day she’d transferred in from South Valley High.

She couldn’t remember anyone else’s name, she always thought of the cheerleaders—so blonde and darling and perfectly made-up they might as well have been triplets—as Kim, Kimmy and Kimber. But she remembered all too well—couldn’t forget, no matter how hard she tried—the way the little bitches giggled as they surrounded her and forced her into a corner of the bathroom

She towered almost a full head over Audra, who was tallest of the jackals—it was like she chose her tools for their shortness. So Paige had to stare down at them while she listened to their sniping comments about how gigantic her tits and ass were and how tall she was. Audra would always sneer "The bigger they are, the harder they fall" and her cunt-tools would always laugh.

Back then Paige never had time to reflect on that kind of thing

Because then the beating would begin.

-4-

As her stream began to abate, SuperNova shook herself out of the painful reverie. She wasn’t a high school kid any more. Maybe tonight she’d get a chance to overwrite those agonizing memories by kicking a little scumbag butt right here. Show these creeps whoever they were that she was not one to be toyed with or threatened.

Someone giggled. The star-spangled superwoman spun with a gasp to stare at the two blonde girls who, hands over mouths, poked their heads in the bathroom door.

"Omigawd," one of them laughed.

SuperNova realized she was peeing on the bathroom floor. Angrily, blushing and wishing to hell she wasn’t, the towering titan-titted bombshell turned back to the urinal, finished her business and flushed. But no water came sluicing down.

Typical. Nothing works.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Sorreee," the shorter head said, "we were just, uh, practicing, y’know?"

"And I thought I heard someone?" the upper blonde chimed in. "And we, like, saw the light under the door?"

"And we thought we heard someone talking. But I guess it’s just, uh, you?"

But she said, "Practicing? Here, at this hour? Practicing what?"

Now the two girls—high school age, no older—moved hesitantly into the room, looking around as they did so but mostly staring at her. "Well, there’s this big competition this weekend, and we wanted to practice our routines."

They were blonde and young and short and bosomy and cute as bugs

And cheerleaders.

Honest-to-God cheerleaders, here of all places at this time of all times!

And if she didn’t know for an absolute honest-to-God fact that it was 10 years later, she’d have sworn they were Kim and Kimmy (maybe Kimmy and Kimber) (or just as easily Kimber and Kim) themselves.

SuperNova blinked. Of course she wasn’t. And these weren’t the Kims. Couldn’t be.

Though she would have been less than absolutely astonished if Audra came waltzing through the door with that insufferably superior sneer on her homely puss.

But whoever they were, their wide-eyed gawking made her uncomfortable. And she was even more uncomfortably aware of the urine puddle on the floor at her spikeheeled feet.

"Isn’t it a little bit late to be practicing cheers?" she barked, hoping volume would make up for lameness, wondering what she would do if the creeps she was supposed to meet (and beat) found these darling little popsies here with her.

Nova found herself wishing she’d had another scotch. Maybe two.

"Isn’t it a little early for Halloween?" asked a third voice just as its owner stepped into the bathroom behind the two blonde cuties.

And of course it belonged

to the third cheerleader.

Kim. Had to be, she was always the leader.

"Or did you get lost on your way to Mardi Gras?" the third blonde popsie went on as she took an obviously accustomed place between the others (who moved aside to make room for her without even looking).

"Nah, a benefit for the All Tits and No Taste Foundation," the left cutie-pie, Kimmy, sneered, eyes raking the ponderous-pontooned paladin’s towering star-festooned body.

"Jeez," Kimber put in, "if she had the taste she’s got tits, she’d be fuckin’ Martha Stewart!"

"Yeah, aren’t those just the biggest milkpails you ever saw?" Kimmy giggled. "Maybe she’s got some kind of, y’know, medical condition."

"Elephantiasis of the udders!" Kim crowed.

"Why, you trash-mouthed little—bitches!" SuperNova exclaimed, realizing that this sweet trio would not go away if ignored.

Kim moved towards her with an insolent smile, the two flankers a step behind. "Ooo, talk dirty to me big mama!"

She nodded to Kimber on her left (or was that Kimmy?) and the blonde doll left the room. Only to return a moment later laden with three sets of pompoms which she stashed in a corner.

SuperNova let out a breath. She didn’t know what she’d expected but she was relieved anyway. Maybe these nasty precious little darlings were just—

She realized she was backing away from the trio as they came on. She stopped.

But an image kept fluttering like a bat about her mind: another woman, also smaller than she with just a normal woman’s strength, who with no powers at all beat and humiliated her with almost contemptuous ease. And destroyed Savage Fury.

"Do your parents know where you are?" she demanded.

Which drew giggles from all three teens as they continued to move towards her. She stood her ground, confident but baffled and wary at their behavior. Could this giggly jiggly little trio be the—?

"I dunno," Kim was saying to the others, "she doesn’t look like the description."

"Wrong hair," Kimmy agreed worriedly. "And all this star shit."

"But she’s got the tits!" Kimber pointed out. "There aren’t a lot with tits like these!"

"Almost no one," Kim nodded. "She sure doesn’t!"

Giggles into hands.

"And the rest!" Kimber gestured at the thoroughly mystified Nova’s costume.

"Too true."

"And," Kimber finished, "she is the one who showed up."

"So it won’t be our fault if she isn’t the one!" Kimmy smiled.

Kim, who hadn’t been able to take her bright blue eyes off Nova’s gigantic star-capped tits since entering the room, reached for one of the massive shimmying mammaries. In that merry little bon-bon of a voice, she said, "Like, I looove tits that come out and meet me half way."

"For sure," Kimber said.

The super-stacked superheroine slapped the hand away indignantly.

More laughter from the peanut gallery.

"She just has to be the one," Kimber said. "Look at those whoppers!"

"’One’ what?" SuperNova demanded, gloved hands on hips. "You three aren’t really cheerleaders, are you?"

This scandalized the blonde trio. They stared at one another in utter shock.

"Oh YEAHHH??"

"We’ll show you!"

And right there in the boys’ bathroom for God’s sake! they snatched up their accessories and went into a routine, snappy as you please. They bounced all over the room and off the walls like manic but button-cute chimpanzees, yelling and shaking pompoms, with cartwheels and somersaults all in perfect synchronization.

"TW0—FOUR—SIX—NINE!! WHO DO WE THINK IS REALLY FINE?

"EDISON! EDISON! EDISONNNN … EINSTEINNNN!!"

Who the heck— was about all SuperNova had time to wonder before Kim (probably) came somersaulting out of the flurry of flying bodies and a blizzard of crepe shed by the crazily flourishing pompoms

right at her!

And before the amazed Amazon Avenger could react, the blonde teen slammed feet-first into her! Normally Sav—SuperNova wouldn’t have even shuffled her spikeheeled feet at this and anyone nervy or stupid enough to try it would walk around with two broken ankles for awhile. But these tennis-shod feet smashed into her doughy dirigibles like twin artillery shells! They sank ankle-deep amidst all that joggling blubber, knocking the wind from the magnificent mega-bombshell and hurling her, gloved-sheathed arms outflung, back into a stall with a crash.

The dazed double-dirigibled dynamo put out her glove-sheathed arms to the stall’s walls to steady herself

Only to have Kimber, swinging up and over the stall door as though it was a parallel bar, come swooping down from behind and power her tennis-shod feet right between the Masked Mammazon’s broad shoulders

SuperNova resisted grimly, know what would happen if she got wet. Kim bore down with both hands on the back of her raven-maned head and Kimmy joined in.

She remembered the times she'd come to school with a new perm and Audra and her pet bitches had held her head under the faucet till her hair was soaked and she had to take time to dry it off before leaving the bathroom. She was always late for class and her hair was a mess and ….

"Careful," Kimber warned. "We don’t want her to get wet."

"For sure," Kim tittered. "Watch."

And instead of pushing the sweating super-stacked superwoman’s head down under the faucet, the monstrous cheerleaders forced her plush mouth onto it, like a cold metal cock.

"Noommfffff …!"

"I’ll bet you get so much practice sucking things," Kim bubbled. "And all cheerleaders know how important practice is!"

And then she started to turn the handles.

With a cry SuperNova reared back, so violently she threw both Kim and Kimmy across the room.

But also so violently the sink tore from the wall in her gloved hands (as lightly as plucking a flower), flew up and clocked her a good one on the forehead! Dazed, the sumptuously scantclad superwoman stood there holding the sink. staring.

There was no water from the torn stump of pipe in the wall. Not even a drip.

"Sorry dearie," Kim smiled sweetly, "we were warned about that. The water’s been turned off."

"What?" Nova managed to gasp.

"Is that why you were late??" Kimmy and Kimber asked in a cappella astonishment.

Kim nodded, less than effervescent for the first time. In fact, almost teary. "It is, like, so gross down there! I had to change out of my uniform and everything!"

"So that’s what’s been bothering you! You poor dear!" Kim and Kimmy came running over, doll-faces filled with concern. "Even for a head cheerleader, it must’ve been awful!" The trio shared a group hug that turned into a surprisingly passionate triple kiss and tongue-meshing.

SuperNova, tho dazed and more than a little bewildered, knew an Opportunity when it invited her for a lapdance. She hauled herself to her spike-heeled feet, groaning from both the pain and from the realization that she was going to have to go right through the lip-smacking trio to get to the door.

Nova set her teeth grimly, felt the determination grow to a wild hot flame within her as Kim (she was pretty sure) reached down and groped under Kimber’s pleated skirt. In a moment, all hands were busily engaged under skirts and the three lithe bodies were swaying seductively. The three sets of lips could have been welded together.

With every ounce of strength in her powerful boot-sheathed legs, the boulder-busted bombshell launched herself at the passionately preoccupied threesome, aiming at the space squarely between Kimber’s shoulder blades, a wild scream tearing itself from deep inside

Only to have Kimber, supporting herself on the others’ shoulders and without even looking to aim seemingly, suddenly kick back both legs and slam her saddle shoes into the charging Nova’s massive soft milkbags! The force of her kick multiplied by the star-masked Mammazon’s lunge impaled those titanic udders deeply on Kimber’s muscular legs—almost to the knee was the way it felt to the suddenly agonized Supernova.

"Omigawd, that was so—loud!" Kim exclaimed.

Kimmy chimed in, "It’s like so lucky you’re so well padded back there or it reelly would’ve hurrt!"

While Kim stood back and crowed, "She fell for it! The big cow actually fell for it! YESSSSSSSS!!" Arms out, she started spinning around the bathroom in glee.

Nova’s monumental mamms felt like once a few months before when Master Blaster had tied them together around a hand grenade then set it off. It took all of her willpower not to reach up and massage the gigantic milkbags—she just knew that would make things even worse. They kept eyeing her enormous quaking star-capped endowments, and she also knew how jealous skinny cunts like these were of her colossal chest. But her tits and outsized ass hurt less than her pride (though both were big and bruised).

But she couldn’t even shake off the small hands hauling her to her spikeheeled feet—just like before, they were too strong.

The towering monster-busted Mammazon began to struggle wildly in the tiny blondes’ grip, but the harder she fought the weaker she seemed to become. The diminutive cuties were able to hold her with barely any effort at all.

"What the— Dammit!" SuperNova grunted, trying to tear herself free.

"Now, is this polite?" Kimber said, walking over with a pompom.

"NOT!" Kim and Kimmy cried together, and turned to slam their knees into the ponderous-pontooned paladin’s gut, bending her forward with a red-faced explosion of spittle.

She dropped to her boot-sheathed knees and would have sprawled on her face if Kimber hadn’t jerked her head back by a fistful of ebon mane

And began to stuff the entire pompom into her slack dripping mouth!

Nova’s star-masked eyes went wide, then even wider when they began to water and she smelled what the thing was soaked with:

Chloroform!

"Nooommmppfff!" she cried and jerked away.

Forcing her to inhale a lungful of the foul anesthetic. It was the strongest she'd had in a long time and it set the world about her spinning like a top and made the floor rock and roll like a ship’s deck in a storm. And to make matters worse (like they could be!) Kim kept trying to stuff the lethal pompom into SuperNova’s mouth!

"Gllggghhh …!"

-5-

"You are one kinky fuck, Ed."

"Said the pot to the kettle."

"Hey, I didn’t tell you to send cheerleaders, for God’s sake."

"So—you have your fantasies and I have mine."

"All I can say is, your fantasies better live up to their billing. I’ve waited a long time for this."

"You doubt them? You doubt me? Are they not proof of my genius?"

"They’re proof of your disease."

"And much more when they retrieve the goods."

"Don’t worry, you’ll get everything I promised. And all of the superbitches."

"Good."

"AFTER I’m through with them."

"I can wait."

"Oh for Chrissakes will you stop drooling?? That is so offensive!"

"I’ve wanted pets like them since I was a kid."

"The kind of girls who wouldn’t even pat the top of your pointy little head."

"You can be so mean."

"Well DUH! I used to be on top, now look where I am and who I have to deal with!"

….

"Cheerleaders. Good God."

"Odd to find a member of your profession so particular."

"Ex-member! I finally wised up!"

"And why?"

"You know why."

"Tell me. Please."

"… Oh all right! … Because I couldn’t beat you."

"And wasn’t that why you gave her the costume in the first place?"

"You know the history. Besides, it was only on loan."

"And if you couldn’t beat me, why should you be afraid that outsized dim-witted Barbie doll can now that we’re working together?"

"Barbie?? Only if they gave the doll ping pong balls for tits! Those things have stretched my poor suit all out of shape! It was designed for someone with a darling figure like mine, not an elephant-uddered heifer like her. They just better remember their instructions, that’s all."

"It’s true, their enthusiasm could present a difficulty. But I’m sure you’ll be satisfied with whatever results they achieve."

"You are such a sick fuck!"

"Please, darling … you’ll turn my head."

-6-

"DO IT AGAIN! DO IT AGAIN! WE LIKE IT, WE LIIIKE IT!!"

"GGGGHHHHH!!"

SuperNova’s star-masked face clenched in pain as Kim’s impossibly strong thighs tightened around her waist. Either the ether-soaked pompom was trying to work its way into her mouth all by itself, as though it was alive, or this little bitch had 3 arms. One twisted her glove-sheathed arms up behind her back, one held a fistful of hair and the third made sure that every tortured breath pulled more of the nauseating stuff into her lungs, setting fire to them and burning her throat.

"Mmmppphhhh!"

Blinded as well by the pompom’s searing fumes, the towering titan-titted heroine staggered drunkenly about the bathroom, cheered on by the other two blonde sweethearts. She jerked her ebon-maned head about frantically trying to get clear of the sickening gas but the pompom pressed itself implacably to her lips and nose and she had no choice but suck it in by the lungful.

"Ride ‘em, cowgirl!" Kimmy yelled.

Kimber, showing a flash of wit that got her a glance from her teammate, changed it to "Ride ‘em cow, girl!"

"Hey!" Kim said, holding tight to her ebon reins. "Don’t damage the merchandise! At least, y’know, not yet!"

"Damage? With bumpers like these?" Kimber gave Nova’s gargantuan star-capped globes a derisive swat that set them to a ponderous jiggling. "I bet if she falls forward she, like, bounces right back up again."

"I bet she can’t get up again at all! I bet those things punch holes right through the floor!"

"Well for sure we’ll have to check that out. A lot."

In a frantic bid to unseat her blonde rider, the dizzy star-spangled super-Amazon threw herself back against the wall, slamming Kim into the tile so hard the impact punched a cheerleader-sized hole through to the other side.

All she managed to do was dislodge the anesthetic-soaked pompom. And damned if the thing didn’t crawl away like some big furry bug! Providing a little relief at least—the chloroform was not only making Nova dizzy but threatening to do nasty things with the scotch she'd drunk earlier—along with her dinner, she fought down an image of herself on all fours hurling chunks in front of these precious perfect little darlings. But it was only a little relief, and fleeting, because Kim not only stayed on but the hand that wasn’t holding both of SuperNova’s steel-bending glove-sheathed arms twisted up behind her back (as easy as you please, dammit) began smacking her great quivering ass. Hard, with sharp echoing cracks. Nova couldn’t keep herself from yelping at the pain, it felt and sounded like she was being shot there.

"I ran away because my stupid parents wouldn’t let me have a horse," Kim gritted, clenching her small hand on a lavish gleaming buttcheek and squeezing up rolls of sweaty meat that welded their owner’s teeth into a solid bar ("ggggggghhh!"). "Maybe I should’ve, like, asked ‘em for a cow?"

"Ggggggggod DAMN you—!!" Nova grunted.

"This Jersey needs some, y’know, manners?" Kimber said.

That was when Kim really clenched her muscular thighs around Nova’s waist, so tightly the Masked Mammazon felt like she was being cut in two! She threw her head back with a groan that rose a couple of octaves.

"JIGGLES LIKE A COW, SQUEALS LIKE A PIG! JIGGLES LIKE A COW, SQUEALS LIKE A PIG!"

"We always get first place on our improvs," Kimber explained to the drunkenly staggering SuperNova, who really couldn’t have cared less.

Kim’s powerful loins were trying to squeeze her stomach up into her throat (like it wasn’t heading that way already!) and muscular leather-sheathed super-arms that should have been able to shot-put most of this whole school several blocks couldn’t even break a casual one-handed grip that twisted them effortlessly almost up to her neck.

A piece of some totally stupid Paul Simon song kept running through her pain-and-anesthetic fogged brain: "It’s the same old story, yeahhh …. Everywhere I go-o-o …."

"Down, Buttermilk! Down girl!"

"Fuck you!" SuperNova yelled through clenched teeth, as she'd always wanted to yell to her tormentors in high school. "If I ever—"

Kim let go of the bodacious bombshell’s boulderous agonized boob and jammed her fingers into the Monumental Mammazon’s star-masked eyes. Nova let out a yelp but with her mighty gloved arms held captive was helpless to do anything except stagger about tossing her ebon-maned head about wildly as the sharp-nailed digits dug into her eyes.

"Nooooooo! Damn yooooo …!"

Blinded, she crashed into the toilet stalls knocking them down like dominos with a deafening crash, then reeled backwards toward the opposite wall. But Kim saw what she was trying to do and really dug her mighty thighs into SuperNova’s waist.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!" The top-heavy titaness couldn’t hold the howl of agony down, and barely managed to keep the contents of her stomach and her lungs themselves from following it. She'd never felt such a powerful grip before!

Gasping for breath, the Avenging Amazon felt more of her strength drain away, as though grounding out through her 6-inch heels. The muscular super-legs that could propel her miles through the air seemed to deflate beneath her, dropping her to thighbooted knees.

"Good girl," Kim murmured in her ear from behind, and gave it a thorough wet tonguing that sent shivers through SuperNova’s awesomely-overblown superbody. "Gooood girl."

"Please …." The ponderous-pontooned powergirl groaned. "C-can’t … breathe …."

"Well I guess not!" Kim sparkled. "I do a solid hour of Thighmaster every single day!"

"SU-ZANNE—SU-ZANNE—SU-ZANNE SOMMERRRRRRSSSS!!" the other Kims yelled. "NEXT TO HER THE REST ARE BUMMERRRRSSS!!"

But this was a lot more than Thighmaster.

How she'd hated Audra’s thin dry lips pressed feverishly against hers, the derisive giggles of the rest holding her down and the coarse taunts and suggestions for other more disgusting things to do to her! At least that skinny bitch had never thought to stick her tongue in Paige’s mouth. They’d gagged her with towels, horrid used tampons, and even her first dildo (belonging to Audra’s older sister) but no tongues—though they had fucked her and made her cum with the dildo before sticking it in her mouth.

She remembered thinking every time she had to gargle and gargle and gargle away the taste of Audra’s lips, Well, at least there’s no chance you’ll ever become a,a lesbian! Not after stuff like this!

But suddenly Kim jerked her face back, staring in horrified disgust. "Eeewww! She’s wearing … flavored lipstick!" She scrubbed the back of a hand across her mouth as though she'd kissed a toad or something.

"Omigawd! How ghastly!" Kimber cried.

"What flavor??" Kimmy gasped.

It was almost too horrible to speak aloud: "PEACH!!"

Twin shrieks of horror, blue eyes wide.

"Before we do ANYTHING else, we’ve GOT to clean this pig up!" Kimmy announced.

"Can you beLIEVE these things?" Kimmy wondered aloud, kneading all that sumptuous glossy meat.

"Don’t touch my tits—UGHH!!" As Kimber’s small fist slashed across her mouth again, twisting her whole head about on her broad shoulders. Nova’s grunt rose to a bleat as Kim jerked her leather-sheathed arms up almost to the base of her skull.

"Manners, bitch!" Kim chirped.

"There," Kimmy smiled. "I think we got it all off."

"Let me check." And again Kim mashed her lips down on SuperNova’s opulent cushions, driving them wide open so the spunky little blonde could shove a tongue like a slimy python between them and down her throat!

"Mmmlllffff …!"

The awesome-bodied avenger almost managed to lurch to her spikeheeled feet at that but Kimber slammed her saddleshoe into the copiously-kissed superwoman’s cunt. Squealing into Kim’s working mouth, SuperNova dropped back to her boot-sheathed knees. She tried to pull away but Kim’s fist held her close and her mouth worked like a hot wet suction pump.

Then nodded to her teammates. "Aaalll gone."

She jerked the stunned superwoman’s head up by a fistful of ebon hair to show them. Kimber dabbed a finger in the trickle of blood down one side of SuperNova’s chin and smeared it over the double-dirigibled dominatrix’s heavy lower lip. "Mmmm, I like this shade better."

Kimmy pursed Nova’s plush lips together and chimed in "With a fat mouth like this we’re going to need a LOT more!"

"NOW we have plenty!" Kimmy crowed.

Moaning (and aware even through the bells that resounded in her skull of Kim’s powerful thighs clamped about her waist), the kneeling titan-titted bombshell could only stare numbly as the two cheerleaders painted her lips with her own blood, then drew smiley faces on her cheeks and finally big clownish circles around her star-masked eyes.

"Hey, look," Kimber giggled. "She’s afraid we’ll take off her mask."

"Oh, as if!!" Kimmy put a finger in her mouth and gagged.

"D’you think we’d maybe recognize her?"

"Like she’s someone’s mom or something??" Kim gasped in horror.

"I’m n-not anyone’s mmmUNNH!!" The flat of Kimber’s hand slapped off SuperNova’s angry but drunkenly blurred retort.

"Maybe it’s that Shawna in 5^th period," Kim said. "She’s got big boobs!"

"Who cares?" Kimber interjected with a toss of her golden locks. "She probably knows who she is. We’ll find out then!"

"Oh, I so almost care," Kimber sniffed. "What I want to know is, who did her tits??"

Here it comesssss …. It was weirdly flattering, the way so many of her foes, even the women, envied her gargantuan globes. Of course, most of them didn’t stop there. And too many wanted to find out if they were real, in the most painful ways.

"Aren’t they just the ultimate ultimate??" Kim was sneering. "She probably needs the costume’s strength just to stand upright!"

"Oh sure, I can see tits bigger than her head, maybe," Kimber added, poking Nova’s resilient star-capped chest-whoppers. "But bigger than her waist? Quelle extreme!"

"Quelle grotesque," Kim snickered, and, reaching around to grab a stiffly protruding teat through its star, gave that finger-sized dowel a vicious twist that brought water to Nova’s star-masked eyes. "Omigawd, even her nipples are hu-uge!"

"Do you think she even had them silicone her nipples??" Kimmy gasped.

"They’re … not silicone!" Nova managed to gasp out.

"Oh, I believe her!" Kim chortled. "Don’t you girls?"

A pair of very sarcastic nods.

"Only one way to find out, I guess!"

"DRILLLLL!!" they all screamed.

Kim, giggling merrily, reached around and sank steely fingers into one of the towering superwoman’s gigantically-joggling monstertits! dug her manicured fingers to the 2^nd knuckle into the Amazon Avenger’s doughy chest pumpkin and really began to work them around. Her long nails were like small knives slicing into the overabundant softness, and as usual the fact Nova’s skin was impenetrable only seemed to heighten the pain. The razors the little bitch had glued to her fingers were tearing the insides of her gargantuan udder into milky mammary mush. And

"Soooo?" Kimmy licked her perfectly glossed lips, bright blue eyes eagerly following every bound and joggle of SuperNova’s monstrous milkbags. "Are they?"

"Feel ‘em and see," Kim snickered. Spreading her small hands under Nova’s shimmying chest-boulders, she began to bounce them up and down. "Like juggling bowling balls of jello."

Kimber eyed the big battered bombshell’s star-capped blubber-blimps as they bounded and shimmied massively on her ribcage. With an expression of intense concentration she splayed manicured fingers over Nova’s enormous jiggling spheres—the delicate digits could not begin to encompass their vastness—and then slowly, deliberately, closed her fingers on the massive milkbags. Knuckle by knuckle, they disappeared into all that doughy mamm-meat, SuperNova’s masked face reddening along with her awesome abused tits.

"Uuuugghhhhhhhhh!!"

Kimber’s fingers kneaded and mauled the helpless heroine’s immense reddening udders as though trying alternately to milk them and twist them off her ribcage. Teeth tightly clenched, Nova struggled in Kim’s unbreakable grip, but her efforts only seemed to tighten the slender steel manacles about her gloved wrists.

"Haven’t you heard?" she demanded. "That old braless thing has been over for, like, ever!"

"Especially for milkpails like these!" Kimmy sniffed.

She slumped forward, stunned, a line of drool oozing from her slack plush lips onto her gigantic jugs.

"Kewlll," Kimmy giggled. "It’s a knocker knock-out!"

"Well, what are we going to do about these—crimes against fashion??" Kimber demanded.

Kim smiled and made a suggestion.

And when SuperNova regained woozy consciousness a moment later, she wondered what all the squealing and hand-clapping and jumping around was about.

She found out, quickly.

-7-

"NOOOOOORRRRGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

In a career as That Other Superheroine that only seemed at times (like these) to have lasted forever, SuperNova’s mammoth by-now-world-famous mammaries had been subjected to every form of abuse and torment the sadistic minds of criminals could conjure up.

Or so she'd thought. Her boulderous babies had been punched, kicked, stomped, bitten, smashed together between steam irons, wrung out and twisted, tied up in a thousand ways, and their nipples pinched and twisted and ground under heels and even pierced with rings (while wet, but they stayed in after her teats had dried out—and hadn’t that made them a bitch to remove!) and weighted with heavy concrete blocks.

*****

She'd even fought a battle that way, arm-bound and ballgagged to boot, and managed to win! Well, sort of—even weighted with 20 pounds each till they sagged past her waist, her super-jugs had swung the blocks on their 3-foot chains around like tassels and KO’d both Diesel and Hugene before WideLoad and Big-Rig could even join the fray. The pain in her thumb-sized teats was incredible of course, like being struck by lightning over and over, but she dealt with it. Desperation and an overload of endorphins, she'd found, was a pretty good anesthetic, at least enough to get her through this nightmare. Diesel and Hugene’s pain had also helped provide a distraction from her own. So she could deal with it.

Right up to the moment that WideLoad appeared from nowhere as (whimpering into her ballgag at the nipple-pain but half-crazed with anger) she was pounding Hugene bloody with her concrete tassels. He stuck out an enormous forearm that caught the lashing chains so they wrapped around it, blocks and all. On their last quick loop the blocks gave him a pair of solid thunks right in his ugly face that took him completely by surprise and knocked him on his big ass. As Hugene was fond of saying, WideLoad wouldn’t be the smartest of the Feersum 4sum in the room even if he was alone.

As he fell, the chains around his forearm jerked her forward by her titanic tits with a ballgagged squeak. She tried to turn it into a lunge but he got his foot up and the leap impaled her bulging cunt on that big hob-nailed clodhopper

And the next thing she knew she was being swung around and around in the air by the chains ringed to her monstrous milkbags like some fabulously-fleshy sling! Her gigantic jugs were stretched so far out from her wildly spinning body, like enormous glistening teardrops, that at first she didn’t even recognize them. Then the incredible pain crashed in on her and all she could do was scream.

Round and round WideLoad swung the howling armbound Mammazon Manhunter by her distended dirigibles, the pain so unbelievable that her hazy mind thought if her nipples did tear off it would be a relief.

And just when she was finally loosening her glove-sheathed arms in the hardened ice that imprisoned them, he suddenly released her and sent Fury, chains and all, flying like a wailing Amazonian arrow through the wall in an explosion of stone and across the narrow alleyway beyond to imbed herself up to her awesome ass in the 3^rd floor wall of the building next door.

Where she barely had time to excuse herself to the astonished old couple watching TV within (it came out "mmhm-mmppf!") before slipping back out the hole and tumbling to the pavement below. Where if she hadn’t landed on her largest and most painfully sensitive bumpers like always (someone had once called them her "centers of gravity"), she might have been able to get up or at least roll aside before Big-Rig came plummeting down from above feet first into the back of her cowled head, driving it so far into the pavement that her great bare ass was levered up into the air on her broad shoulders and the cushions of her elephantine boobs.

So of course when he reached down for a handful of her ponytail, Rig just had to step on (or maybe "in" would be more accurate) those colossal pillows, flattening and spreading them out around his boots and grinding the tender billowing milkfat into the cold rough concrete. Fury wasn’t too stunned to groan into her mouthball, and the pain when he hauled her head out of its self-made hole by her ponytail brought her right back to full awareness.

Not exactly where she wanted to be at the moment.

Game to the last despite being bound and gagged, she started to her spike-heeled feet with some dim notion of kicking Rig’s balls up into his throat. But all the huge creep had to do was stick his foot in her chest between her monstrous joggling tits and push her back, then grab the chains attached to her nipples to jerk her forward again and down to her booted knees with a shrill ball-muffled bleat.

The police sirens and the other 3 of the Feersum 4sum appeared together—trouble was, the sirens were distant and Hugene, Diesel and WideLoad were very close. And very pissed.

But they heard the sirens and apart from giving Fury a couple of crashing boots to the cowled head that rolled her over and over into a trash-filled corner of the alley, they were suddenly in too much of a hurry to really whomp on her.

So they took her tit-ringed chains and by her elephantine udders dragged the Cowled Crusader on her belly down the alleyway, howling and thrashing and still unable to break those motherfucking ice bonds!

Fortunately their car waited at the head of the alley, only a few hundred miles away. By the time they got there, wailing Fury was wishing her fucking nipples would just come off. Her agonized monstertits felt like they’d been stretched out five feet at least.

Whimpering, Fury stared numbly at a trailer hitch till Hugene and WideLoad hauled her to her feet again—by her hair, of course—while Bigrig opened the trunk. The Masked Mammazon started to struggle, moaning into her mouthball

But they had one more humiliation in store before dumping her into the trunk. First Hugene and Bigrig held her upright while WideLoad smashed her gorgeous battered face back and forth with bludgeoning lefts and rights to the jaw till finally the bloodied ballgag flew out of her mouth—someone said "What no teeth?" and she thought distantly Some people are never satisfied!

They let her slump to her knees but instead of whipping out their dicks for a suckfest (those sirens were taking for-fucking-ever to get nearer) they had something even more humiliating in mind.

It took both Diesel and Hugene to do it even beaten and weak as she was, but they forced her plush smashed mouth down onto the trailer hitch and kept on pressing down on the back of her cowled head till her luscious lips stretched wide enough to admit the cold metal ball. It tasted sour and oily on her tongue.

Hugene gritted, "Let’s see if what they say is true!"

"Mmpff! Hmfff!" she retorted.

"Dontcha just loove the way these things hang almost to the ground?"

Fury didn’t have to ask ‘which things.’

That was when she heard the cop cars come skidding around the corner a couple of blocks up.

"Shit!"

"Forget Bossy here, let’s BOOK!"

One of them gave her big bare ass a parting kick that rattled her teeth. The trunk slammed in her face, car doors opened and closed, and the engine revved

And the car took off, dragging the ice-bound mouth-impaled utterly helpless Mammazon Manhunter behind!

"MMMMRRPPPFFFFFFFFHHHHHH!!"

Later when she was booking the Feersum 4sum at police HQ after bringing them in all by herself while the cops just screwed around and figuring this should earn her some respect, her super-ears followed some far-off laughter and picked up the following description of what the cops giving chase behind saw:

"Man, just when you think you’ve seen every fucking thing with that overblown bimbo! I heard the mayor was gonna pull her license to thrill—her and those other pumpkin-titted bitches. Sure glad he didn’t, thing’d be a whoole lot duller around here without all that meat jigglin and shakin around! You just never can tell when you’ll be followin’ a disturbance report and suddenly a car’ll come patchin’ out of an alley and no matter how many times you blink it’s still Savage Titties bein’ dragged behind it and damned if it don’t look like she’s bein’ hauled by her mouth stuck on a trailer hitch! Like some lucky dog wanted to see if she really could do it."

Jesus, Fury thought. Having a harder time than usual ignoring the stares of all the cops around her (at least this time you were able to clean up before coming in), she scratched out a misspelling on the report so hard she crushed the pen. Does everybody think that??

The sleazy voice went on gleefully: "So her arms are tied behind her by something or other so she can’t just pull her mouth off, see? So the car drags her for a coupla blocks with those loong legs of hers in those kinked-out boots trailin’ behind—of course we ain’t catchin’ up, we wanna see what happens!—and that cowled head is jerkin’ around like she’s tryin’ like mad to cough up that whole hitch, which I guess was tougher to spit out than swallow, and the big cow isn’t havin’ any luck till the car goes over a pothole and takes a big bounce and that finally throws her off!

"But wait, it gets better! So her face flies off the hitch and it looks like she’s free, so I get set to swerve—o’course I didn’t wanna hit her! It don’t look it, but that overblown body, watermelons and all, is harder than steel! But instead of dropping away, she just hitches down a bit and lets out this scream we can hear even over the siren! And she’s still bein’ pulled along! So Rod on his Harley speeds up to check it out, and he radios back that she’s caught on chains attached to her nips that’ve tangled up in the bumper! Yep, Mega-Mamms was bein’ dragged by her mondo-mazombas! Say that 3 times real fast! No wonder she was soundin’ off like a train whistle!

"Nah, you’d think they’d be stretched out to her knees, but those watermelons can take a lot of punishment! Damned good thing for her, too. Just wish we had a camera, is all. Those kind of pictures are worth zillions at parties! We’ve got some stuff of Justice Juggs that—

"So screamin’ Savage Titties is hauled along by her monsters for a few blocks, with the car takin’ big turns swingin’ her around behind it, and we’re stayin’ juust far enough back to catch the action, and the guys behind us are beggin’ to swap places but we pretend there’s something wrong with the radio, see? And we’re wonderin’ how the hell she’s gonna get free without losin’ at least her nips. I mean, hey, I’ve seen .45s bounce off those mountains of hers, but they’re draggin’ probably 180 pounds of woman at over 70 miles per by their nipples!

"So suddenly she flips over onto her back and OHHH MOMMA! Them whoppers of hers musta been stretched out 3 feet or more! I mean they hid her whole head! I almost lost the wheel right then and there! Let’s just say somethin’ else suddenly needed attention and it wasn’t the gearshift! So I guess she did it to let the street grind off whatever was holdin’ her arms, ‘cause suddenly they’re free and she’s pullin’ herself up them chains attached to her tits to the rear of the car! With one hand she literally rips the rear bumper right off and it comes bouncin’ back at us so I have to swerve sharp, so when she reaches underneath and does the same thing to the whole fucking rear axle and the tires go flyin’ different directions and that car totally loses it into a gas station, we don’t get caught in the humongous explosion!

"So yeah, you could say she saved our asses. Nah, she was fine, not even singed when she dragged the Feersum 4sum out of the flames. They looked like Crispy Critters though. Made ‘em real easy to handle.

"I ain’t sayin’ that kinda thing happens all the time, but often enough that the Valley gets more requests for transfers than any other part of the City. So you oughta be damned glad you got yours."

Hotter than she had been in the midst of that sea of flame pulling the unconscious F4 from their wrecked car, Fury finished the arrest report and straightened. When he could take his eyes off the Cowled Crusader’s gigantic shimmying milkbags long enough to notice she'd finished, the desk sergeant stepped forward. The look on her masked face wiped the usual smirk from his ugly puss and he stepped back again with a jerk, suddenly sweaty.

Fury turned and bumped into a big fat sergeant who’d been aiming at just that collision so her ponderous chest pumpkins would flatten against what was left of his chest. Pain bloomed all through her colossal soft tits—though the punctures left by the nipple-rings had already healed (she'd had to wet them down to remove the rings), her thumb-sized teats were still super-tender.

"Ooops, sorry, Furry," he snickered, backing up as though in apology but really so he could glance down at her barely-concealed cunt bush.

Smiling tightly, she plucked him up like a delicate flower and held him overhead at gloved-arms length, big flat feet kicking almost a yard off the floor. He choked. He goggled. He turned deeeep red. His knees were bumping against Fury’s gigantic jugs making them shimmy and shake massively around their narrow straps, but he didn’t even notice. Neither did she. Neither did anyone else (for once).

"Let me show you the Savage Fury diet," she murmured. "How to get rid of 300 pounds of useless fat instantly."

The room was silent. The room was watching. The only sounds were the gasps and whimpers of the big sweating cop.

"Fury." The captain leaned against the doorway to his office. "Put him down, please. Gently—it’s an old floor."

She should’ve shotputted the fat creep across the room. But suddenly her eyes filled with girlish tears behind their mask, and rather than let this roomful of pigs see her cry she just tossed him into a corner like so much trash (a LOT of trash) and stormed out. And as she leaped away cursing, she caught the following:

"Didja pipe the way those fat cheeks of hers shook? Now that’s a broad who knows how to make an exit!"

-8-

Out of a long list, it had been Savage Fury’s most embarrassing episode. Until now, that is. Though it was at least private (for now) this one was turning out even worse for SuperNova—a long way from the kind of New Beginning she'd been counting on.

Because in all that time, all that tit-torture and torment, somehow none of those Sick Rotten Filthy Motherfucking Bastards had thought to simply try and pull her ponderous pontoons

right

off

her

ribcage.

Until now, that is.

And the 3 Kims, with all the impossible strength in their compact hard little bodies, were doing their damndest to fill that blank space in her personal annals of pain.

"GGGGGUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!"

Kim stood behind Nova holding the Masked Mammazon by glove-sheathed arms twisted together across her broad muscular back, now arched with pain as Kimber and Kimmy got seriously into their pontoon-pulling.

Shoulder to shoulder the stalward Kims stood, like Munchkins before an impossibly voluptuous Dorothy, and side by side sweated from their heroic endeavors, each with the fingers of both tiny hands sunk knuckle-deep into one of the towering agonized Mammazon’s doughy watermelons, hauling with all their febrile might upon those titanic milkbags. Sssttttrrretttchhhinggg Nova’s hulking mammary monsters out like stupendous glossy sausages, two feet or more.

Their delicate fingers scored deep crimson creases in the Masked Mammazon’s distended doughy dirigibles as they tried to pull them out farther and farther. But even chest-whoppers as stupendously soft and massively malleable as Nova’s could only stretch so far

And the louder Nova howled and the more frantically she struggled, the more relentless Kim’s grip grew and the harder the two blondes pulled on her agonized outstretched jelloblimps.

"We shoulda … brought … a tape measure," Kimber grunted.

"These things … are so … slippery!" Kimmy complained, hauling on her humongous hooter with both hands. "This pig … sweats like one!"

"Eeewwww, she stinks!" Kim went behind the struggling Nova.

"Stay … STILLLLL!!" Kimber yelled as the weeping woman wonder’s mammoth boob slipped out of her grasp and flopped down to sag massively and joggle like a great water-filled balloon (a very red and finger-scored one) over Nova’s booted thigh. "You’re doing it ON PURPOSE!"

Petulantly, the cruel little cutie slammed a tennis-shod foot into SuperNova’s heaving gut.

That did it as far as the battered boulder-busted bombshell’s stomach was concerned. Between the booze, the pizza, half a pot of coffee and a great deal of nervous acid—not to mention all the recent external abuse—it had put up with a LOT so far tonight and had managed to deal. Right up till this moment.

So in one super-convulsive heave it gave up not only the ghost, but also the pizza, the booze, the coffee, and what was left of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (on Wonder Bread of course) from lunch.

With the force of a firehose.

All over Kimber and Kimmy.

The sheer might of the explosion knocked them back a few steps which caused them to let Nova’s ponderous pain-racked pontoons go and threw both the Amazon Avenger and Kim back against the wall in a stunned fleshy heap. Neither moved. Kim’s whole head was buried under one of the dazed Nova’s gargantuan sloshing milkbags.

The sadistic blonde darlings stood there, frozen in uttermost ab-so-lutely ASTONISHED shock. For just a moment they shared a look of disbelieving horror that had "She didn’t AKshully HURL did she??" writ large all over it.

But she had. Chunks. Splattered all over uniforms and hair and shoes and even the walls 15 feet behind. It was a truly epic spewage, worthy of a superheroine.

There was a stunned aghast horrified silence, for just that moment.

Then the girls rose up on tip-toe and, a capella, let out a pair of screams so perfectly matched they sounded as one. Dolphins couldn’t have heard that note, let alone hit it. Dogs howled for blocks around. Bats high overhead slammed into one another in confusion.

But, piercing SuperNova’s super-ears like knives, it jolted the Cowled Crusader out of her daze and to her spikeheeled feet as though hauled by wires like a massive-mammaried marionette. Gloved hands clapped to her resounding ears did nothing to muffle the piercing shrieks.

Kim grabbed Nova’s hair as she stood, which would have been the finish for her except that the wig finally tore away. Her natural red hair spilled out

And she RAN!

Well, at least hobbled very quickly, glove-sheathed forearm scrubbing her plush fouled lips, bent-over from the stitch in her gut and her tummy’s sour churning (not to mention the horrid taste in her mouth). Kimber and Kimmy were too paralyzed by horror to do more than glance at her as she hurried past them to the door, but she knew that wouldn’t last long.

So from the doorway she whispered, "And you stink too."

"EEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!" Tiny hands held out to their sides like it was just too gross even to touch themselves, the diminuitive blondes drummed their feet on the floor as they screamed to each other.

-9-

But Kim was on her feet like a shot grabbing for her kit bag and Supernova got out of there. She was just past the main stairwell when Kim yelled something behind her that was lost in the echoey corridor. Nova glanced around to see the cheerleader take little globes about the size of golf balls from her purse. The double-dirigibled dominatrix dove for the stairwell as she threw the balls and grunted in pain when her awesome abused boobs slammed against the floor and slid across the slick hardwood beneath her, burning like fire.

Then suddenly the fire was all around her as the golf balls exploded into blinding clouds of flame that engulfed her in an inferno! Nova screamed at the sudden pain even though the flames couldn’t burn her—couldn’t even give her a sunburn. But they still hurt. A lot.

But that wasn’t the worst, the star-clad superbeauty realized when, howling and covering her masked eyes, she rolled humpty-bumpty on her throbbing milk-mountains (that hurt too) through the flames. Because while Kim had taken care to shut off the water to the bathrooms and stuff (and she still couldn’t figure out why, if they really were trying to capture her or whatever), that hadn’t affected the fire sprinklers.

Which erupted in a soaking steamy downpour even as she cleared the flames. The good news was, they quickly doused the blaze. The bad news was, they doused what was left of her powers at the same time.

But that wasn’t the worst news.

The worst news was waiting for her beyond the dwindling flames, standing so close she was barely clear of them when she rolled into its legs.

The teen queen frowned (and even managed to do that prettily). "She said the flames would work. They always did on her. And now I’m soaking wet!"

Which was definitely not a good thing. The cheerleader took a petite handful of Nova’s scarlet hair and pulled her groaning weakly to her thighbooted knees. "But this hair is right, and it’s real. And you’re the only one who’s showed up. So you, like, have to be her!"

Desperately, SuperNova gathered herself for a lunge upward, hoping that even with normal strength maybe she could head-butt this cute monster hard enough to give her a nose bleed and buy enough time to—

Have Kim take her head by her real hair and start slamming it slowly and methodically and stunningly onto her knee!

Gritting as she did so: "I’ll—teach—you—to—spew—all—over—my—friends and get me wet!"

To which the kneeling monster-titted masked Mammazon sang a familiar accompaniment: "UNH!—OO!—URGHH!—AAA!" as her head was bounced off that rock-hard kneecap again and again.

But a part of her that wasn’t rocking and rolling with the humiliating beating was surprised that she was even still conscious. The enraged Kim was putting everything she had into her head-smashes but the best she could do was bring another fount of blood from the helpless heroine’s nose, spilling all over her knee.

Which only got her madder, of course. So she threw Nova down at her feet again, then just stood there a moment watching the prone ponderous-pontooned powergirl try to lever herself up again with her muscular leather-sheathed arms.

"C’mon, supercow," Kim taunted with a clenched-teeth kind of playfulness. "You can do one measly li’l ol’ push-up, can’t you?"

And Nova almost managed, with an effort that would have lifted this whole building off its foundation if she'd been dry. It bulged the muscles across her broad back and made the sinews stand out against her shoulders—and didn’t quite lift her massive pendent milkbags clear of the floor. And all that was only a little more difficult than ignoring the pleasure her pint-sized tormentor took in watching this awesomely-voluptuous mega-Amazon struggle and strain at her feet, sweating and groaning, just to lift herself off the floor. The problem was all that giggling!

At least the sprinklers had stopped, so she had some hope of drying out if she could last long enough. But Nova had taken quite a beating already, and all her incredible super-strength had done was help her endure it. And from midgets!

Just like before ….

Then Kim stomped down between Nova’s shoulderblades and slammed her to the wet floor again with a grunt. From the force she expected to be smashed right through to the basement but all that happened (aside from gusting all the air from her lungs) was, her doughy watermelons were forced out to her sides on the slippery hardwood.

"Hah!" said another voice. "She looks like she’s being crushed between a pair of beachballs!"

Nova looked up what were now 3 pairs of kneesox-clad legs to where Kimber and Kimmy now stood flanking their chief. They were still decorated with her vomit and smiling pleasantly.

"The only reason you’re gonna live a little longer," Kimber promised sweetly, "is so you can lick both of us clean."

"Ooooh yeah!" Kimmy chimed in merrily.

"’Cause once we get it, we can do anything we want with you."

"Ed promised!"

"So THERE!"

Nova didn’t have time to wonder what "it" was because just then, with twin yells like kids leaping into a pile of leaves, Kimber and Kimmy jumped with both feet onto (or maybe "into" would be more accurate) the prone powergirl’s ponderous side-ballooning pontoons!

One each.

smashing the boulderous jellobags flat against the cold wet floor and squirting milk over a foot from their big hard nipples.

And it hurt. Real real bad.

So bad Supernova couldn’t even scream, just screw her eyes way tight shut behind their mask and open her mouth as wide as it would go—and then wider—around a single great gassy exhalation of uddermost torment. With maybe just the tiniest, leastest, all-but-inaudiblest squeak buried within.

Ankle-deep in pneumatic boob blubber, Kimmy and Kimber slapped a high-5 over her broad humbled back.

"That’ll show her!" Kimmy bubbled.

"Yeah, next time she decides to hurl all over someone—well, she just better not!" Kimber said.

Kim snapped her fingers. "Gloves."

Nova’s lithe-muscles arms were jerked up behind her and her shoulder-length gloves pulled off. She almost struggled—"almost" as in "moved about a millimeter"—and the explosion of pain from her stupendous smashed milkbags froze her again.

"Nnnooooooooo!" she moaned.

"Yyyyyeeesssssss!" the three cuties replied together.

Kimber lifted one foot off the big beaten beauty’s massively flattened jello-whopper, only to stomp down on its raw thumb-sized teat and grind that rubbery duct into the floor.

It took all of SuperNova’s strength just to whimper.

-10-

And when they had taken her thighboots as well (after stamping on her side-ballooning milkmonsters till she lay in a pool of her own milk), they kicked her onto her back then stood over the prostrate moaning Mammazon’s mountainous naked magnificence and debated—as best they could.

"But, like, she said to let her go after we got the stuff!" Kimber said.

"Yeah, she wants to do the rest!" Kimmy put in.

With a sigh, Kim bent down and pulled a hand mirror out of her kit bag. She gave it to Kimber, who took it curiously. The curiosity vanished into shock with one glance into the mirror. Kimmy had to take it from her petrified hand. One look and she too was frozen in horror.

"That’s right!" Kimber finally gasped.

"I knew there was something!" Kimmy said.

"She hurled on us both—"

"—and we’re soaking wet!"

"And we’re still hysterical!"

Together: "And it’s all her fault!!"

"Next time it’s my turn," Kimmy said.

"It was your turn this time," Kim pointed out.

For the first time, it really sank in:

She glanced up and through the eye that wasn’t swollen shut

"Let’s kill her," one of the Kims suggested.

"Oh yes let’s!" another agreed eagerly.

And Audra (whose hair kept going blonde and who looked like she was wearing some kind of cheerleader outfit) said, "First we play."

To her horror Audra hiked up her skirt and she wasn’t wearing any panties and the hair underneath was blonde with big pink lips in the middle that were coming down toward her face like they were going to swallow it whole in one big gulp!

A small voice from deep within said Don’t sweat it, this has happened before, just relax and pick your time and when they’re all over you, make your break. Just don’t get too far into it, that’s all ….

But she couldn’t help scrunching her face up and zipping her lips as tight as she could and still couldn’t do anything about her nose, which was out there just breathing away. Then something wet and warm and gooey dripped onto her cheek from those lowering lips

And she didn’t know what it was

(how could she? She was only 15!)

but it galvanized her into convulsive action, and as the gaping pink maw descended she jerked up with a yell and banged her forehead squarely into the hard little protrusion just peeking out above those lips.

And Audra screamed!

"OW!!" she howled, reeling back. "OWOWOWWW!!"

"What happened??" the other two yelled—together, as usual.

But all Audra (whose hair had gone blonde and was wearing a cheerleader’s uniform) could do was hop around holding herself under the skirt and yelping "OWOWOWOWOWWW!!"

Paige was surprised she was able to hurt Kim that much (which served the little bitch SO VERY right), and now she just wanted to get out of there. Something very weird was going on and somehow she didn’t think that anyone was going to come out of the classrooms and she was soaking wet and all but naked and there were sirens in the distance, probably fire trucks.

She scrambled to her bare feet just as Kimmy and Kimber came charging at her, feet squishing and squoshing in their soaked tennies. Their faces were twisted into masks of rage (cute ones of course) that was almost comic, like rabid maddened Barbies. Knowing that without her boots and gloves these ridiculous little monsters could easily kill her, Nova turned to run but slipped on the wet floor and went down with a thud that slammed her awesome aching watermelons into the floor and bounced her over onto her back with a squeal of pain.

Just as the two snarling darlings lunged upon her. Desperately, Nova brought her feet back till her knees cushioned deep into her titanic throbbing tits and caught the pair in their flat little tummies, then straightened her powerful legs as forcefully as she could.

And to her utter astonishment sent them hurtling back through the air with a concerted WHOOFFF! landing and skidding and spinning on their skirted butts till they slammed into a wall!

Nova staggered to her feet, bewildered. How could I be stronger without my costume than with? And I’m soaking wet!

She wondered if maybe somehow her body had absorbed the costume’s power and she didn’t even need it any more! Maybe wearing it was actually canceling her power out now—that would explain a lot!

She started toward Kim, who was still totally preoccupied with her pubic miseries.

Those sirens are getting pretty close, you aren’t going to be able to enjoy this as much as you deserve ….

Even when she'd been … that Other Heroine, SuperNova had always hated to rush the Good Things in life. Things like Payback.

Kim was on her knees moaning and massaging her snatch, so wrapped up in pain that she didn’t even notice Nova until the towering titan-titted masked Mammazon (her mask was about all that was left of her costume) took a fistful of blonde hair and jerked her head back.

Nova paused a moment to savor the pain brimming in the diminuitive teen’s blue eyes.

"I’ve owed you this for 10 years," she hissed.

And slammed a hard bare fist across that perfect tear-streaked face that would have flattened the pain-groggy cheerleader except for Nova’s hand entwined in her hair. A vicious backhand (as Kim made a valiant attempt to stand and fight) sans support accomplished that effect nicely, and in fact caused the teen bombshell to slide across the wet floor almost to her crumpled teammates. It also spattered Nova’s knuckles with blood which she found totally exhilirating.

And, maybe more important, she'd finally put to rest that old high school nightmare—as herself!

But the fire trucks were pulling up outside. And except for the gold star over her great ass, she was stark naked. So she hurried around gathering up all her other stars, the ones the little bitches had scattered all over while having their fun with her, and headed for the far exit, the one that would let her out on the side of the building opposite the trucks.

The cheerleaders were just beginning to come around so she paused a moment—just a moment—to spit on them. "Take the costume," she hissed. "I don’t need it any more."

And she would have done more—lots more—if there’d been time. But as usual, there wasn’t.

In the not-nearly-distant-enough distance, doors slammed open and men shouted.

With a last clenched-teeth snarl at the crumpled crumpets, SuperNova booked.

-11-

She immediately regretted leaving at least the boots inside when her bare feet all but stuck to the freezing concrete steps outside. It was so much colder now than before! Of course, she'd been inside for several hours so it had to be almost dawn by now.

It was dark, too—the school parking lot lights were off so all she could make out was the vast blackness of the empty lot and the stairs leading down to it with the bushes on both sides along the side of the building and the trash dumpsters off to her right. So at least she was sure no one could see her as she stuck the golden stars back onto her awesomely-overdeveloped body, re-covering her titanic dripping tits and bulging similarly-sopping bush.

Jeez she hated lactating in front of enemies! It wasn’t like it happened all that much, her boulderous babies had to get really beaten and whomped on to start spurting. But for those cunts to make it happen—!

There were shouts and crashes from inside. She wondered if the 3 blonde mice might have somehow escaped. Time for her to get home too. And fast—all this pale pink skin was like a beacon in the night. Good thing she only lived a couple—

"Hey?"

At the foot of the stairs she spun to the sound of the voice. It was too dark to make the man out clearly but as he limped closer she could see he was huge. And familiar.

"I was s’posed to meet—Holy shit!

"YOU!"

They said it together.

"Hey, look, bitch, I don’t want any more trouble." Mustache started to back away. It wasn’t easy the way he limped with that cane. "Even for tits like those …."

That little voice told her to forget it, he wasn’t worth the trouble, it was late and she was cold and anyway, he was still a mess from the last hurt she'd put on him.

But DAMN that adrenalin was still pounding through her veins and that was part of the reason she was shivering! She'd had to let the cheerleaders off easy after everything they’d done to her—and giggled while they did it—and that really griped her ass! And now here was this obnoxious asshole delivered like some gift of fate practically to her doorstep!

And he was still calling her "bitch." This was so perfect!

So she started toward him, slowly, licking her opulent lips, moving so her broad muscular hips and ponderous star-capped chest-whoppers swayed in opposite directions. It was too dark to see Mustache’s face but she could feel his eyes jumping from the bulge of her cunt against its star to the gleaming gold twins perched high atop the jiggling mountains of her boobs. There was enough light for that, anyway.

"H-hey, c’mon …." His voice kept backing up but he froze in his tracks.

"Let’s see how you’ve recovered first," she murmured.

"Wh-whaddaya mm—hey!" He wanted to split, he wanted to run and hide in the worst way, she could see it in his wide eyes staring down at her—something damn few men could do, even barefoot like she was.

But he couldn’t. She had her fingers curled around his big but limp dick in his pants and that rooted him to the spot.

Never taking her masked eyes off of his (and his never left hers), she pulled that great handful of flaccid meat out and started to stroke it, slowly, with juust a little more pressure than was comfortable. To her intense gratification, Mustache broke out in a whole-body sweat. But his great member stayed limp despite her fingers’ most coaxing invitations. Even despite the massive soft pressure of her enormous near-naked jello-blimps pressed against his chest, which almost always worked (whether she wanted it to or not, sometimes).

"Now what will it take to get this thing working again?" she mocked in a breathy whisper, stroking, fondling, menacing. His balls were huge, the size of golfballs, all but hairless ….

"Please," was all he could choke out.

"I can’t hear you," she breathed into his ear.

"Please," he said in a more normal tone.

"The neighbors can’t hear you," she coaxed.

"Please!" he barked.

"The man in the moon can’t hear you!" she gritted, giving his balls a threatening squeeze.

"Pleeeeease!" he yelled in a high girlish voice.

"Now that’s more like it," she smiled. Behind that smile she listened for any sounds from inside the school but heard nothing. Hadn’t even noticed the fire trucks pulling away.

God I love this part of my work! she thought. More than makes up for the—rest of it.

Most of the time anyway.

But no matter how avidly she stroked his great cock, no matter how sensuously she rubbed her gigantic soft tits over his massive chest, no matter how she tickled and licked his ear with her tongue, that veined salami remained limp and unresponsive.

"What are we to do?" she said softly.

He swallowed and squirmed and swallowed some more.

And then suddenly, from behind her an enraged woman’s voice:

"I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do, you interfering cunt!"

A hand took SuperNova by a broad muscular shoulder and spun the towering titan-titted bombshell around to stare down at

Not one of those horrid little cheerleaders like she expected (she wasn’t sure they were smart enough to know when they were licked)

But a middle-aged and kind of homely (but somehow familiar) woman!

Who had a small bony fist already cranked back which she drove up and across Nova’s jaw

And knocked the Thighbooted (well, not at the moment) Thunderbolt into the bushes with a yelp!

It was hard to tell who was more astonished: Mustache standing there or SuperNova lying in the shrubbery feeling her aching jaw.

"What the fuck??" They said it together.

With barely enough strength to prop her dazed super-self up on her elbows, surprised her aching jaw hadn’t been knocked clean off and wondering if it might not happen yet.

And she was so plain, so ordinary! So small!!

But suddenly Mustache was looming over her like a black statue against the night sky. "Somethin’ weird goin’ down here," he muttered.

"Yeah," SuperNova managed to yell (which hurt her jaw), "and it’s you!"

At the bottom, head ringing, Nova tried to kick him loose with her free leg but he grabbed that ankle too. The awesomely-overblown Amazon struggled against those vise-like hands but to her growing astonishment couldn’t kick her legs free.

What happened to myyy"AAAAGGHHHH!!"

As, swearing, Muctache spread her muscular limbs wide and drove his foot between them into her still-tender pussy. The impact sounded like something between a crunch and a squelch.

SuperNova howled.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Mustache asked.

"I got a phone call," the woman replied.

"Me too," the giant said.

"Wonder if she got a call," the woman sneered and, stepping into Nova’s colossal crushed tit, bore down hard till her foot was engulfed in doughy pink hello and she was almost standing on her ribcage. The prone ponderous-pontooned powergirl couldn’t hold back the groan that strained through her clenched teeth.

"I’ll give the bitch a call," Mustache gritted.

He dropped Nova’s feet and took a fistful of Nova’s scarlet tresses. Hauled her up by that hair protesting shrilly.

"Shaddap!" he bellowed, and smashed a huge flipper-like mitt across her masked face so hard it spun the hair-suspended heroine almost all the way around. A brutal backhand slapped her nearly as far around the other way with a yelp.

"You sure this is the same one?" the woman asked. "Wasn’t she a brunette last time?"

Then the helpless heroine recognized her: the woman she'd saved from Mustache and his buddy!

"No doubt," Mustache replied. "Won’t find another pair like this in a zillion miles!"

"You cost me $200, bitch!" the woman yelled. "My pimp beat the crap out of me because he thought I shorted him, so I’m gonna do the same to you."

With the hand not holding the stunned stupendous SuperNova off the ground, Mustache tore the stars off her swaying watermelons and gave their stiff thumb-sized teats a vicious twist. Nova squealed shrilly.

"What happened to her strength?" the woman wondered as she peeled the star off Nova’s pussy and started to feel her up. "She made you and your buddy look like pansies and didn’t even break a sweat."

Nova bit back a moan as the woman’s fingers dug into her sopping super-sensitive pussy.

"I dunno and I don’t care, she ain’t got it now."

She hadn’t been so scared in a loong time, not even during the worst of the Hards’ abuse. Mustache had a crazy-mad gleam in his eye—the one without the saggy lid. And her pussy looked to be about the only part of her that was still super.

The woman pinched her hard finger-sized clit. SuperNova bleated.

"Jeez, I done guys with cocks smaller than this thing." She gave that hard pink pearl a vicious twist. Nova sobbed in miserable terror.

Mustache shook the suspended superwoman like a disobedient kitten, making her elephantine aching milkbags jounce and bounce around.

Perfect pumpkin-sized targets for the woman’s small bony fists, which slammed in like meteors into the heroine’s big brown nipples and imbedded themselves wrist-deep before bouncing out again. Nova howled.

But they still wouldn’t let her fall. They shoved her back against the fence again with a loud jingling that ran up and down the enclosure and the woman kneed her in the groin and when she doubled forward her beautiful masked face swinging down ran smack-dab into Mustache’s huge fist rocketing up between the joggling watermelons of her tits

And SuperNova saw stars—first the painful kind, then when they cleared the real ones. She found herself sprawled on cold wet grass staring up at part of a night sky, the rest hidden by two vast black hulks resting against her face, and a little unsure where she was or how she got here.

She was abruptly reminded when the rest of the night sky was blocked out by two forms that reached down and, grabbing the sky-obscuring masses, lifted them from her masked face. These turned out to be her own boulderous boobs when they hauled her yowling to her feet by them. Then by those humongous doughy handles dragged her whimpering over to a dumpster.

"P-please," she sobbed, "don’t throw me in, please …."

Mustache just smiled down at her. "You wish."

Instead, they slammed her back against the dumpster’s freezing metal side and draped her muscular arms over the edge, hanging her there.

"Please …." she mumbled.

"This is so pathetic," the woman sneered, giving one of the naked Nova’s big hard nipples a twist.

"Let’s shut the cow up," Mustache said.

So then they really went to work on her.

-12-

"Hey c’mon guys, gimme a break."

"No, we believe you, we really do! Don’t we?"

"Absolutely."

"Totally."

"No you don’t. But I’m tellin’ you that’s what I saw!"

"Too much smoke. That’s it."

"Couldn’t’ve been the heat, the fire was already out."

"Yeah, but you never can tell about them school fires. You know what high school kids keep in their lockers."

"That must be it!"

"So what’s so fucking weird about cheerleaders in a high school??"

"That ain’t what’s got us in this disbelievin’ frame of mind, Scotto."

"Even though you was the only one seen ‘em."

"Well, I was the first one down to that end of the hall. And all that steam and smoke … I don’t know where the hell they went!"

"Again, that’s not what we’re tryin’ to get clarified here, rookie."

"Nope, not it at all."

"It’s that other part, the part that came next."

"The part with the naked broad with tits like pumpkins who was gettin’ double-teamed in the back?"

"Yeah, go over that part again."

"Well, first off she wasn’t exactly naked. She wore a mask of some kind."

"But nothin’ else."

"Yeah, that’s right. Anyway, so I’m checkin’ the back door to see if it’s secure—"

"—Or maybe to see if your cheerleaders got out that way?"

"… Well, that too. So I’m checkin’ it and it’s secure but then I hear this noise outside."

"Like a scream."

"Yeah, like a scream. So I go out onto the steps and look around, and I hear more sounds. Heavy blows, like, and grunts, and a voice kind of whimpering."

"So you put on your hero suit …."

"Well c’mon, what was I supposed to do? Yeah, so I head towards it and I see these shapes over at the dumpsters."

"Four people."

"No, just three. Two real big ones and a smaller one. And the big guy and the smaller woman were doin’ something to the big woman."

"The one with tits like pumpkins."

"Yeah."

"Now, when you say ‘pumpkins’, are we talkin’ October pumpkins or the green kind like in August?"

"Big ones, that’s all I know. And I couldn’t really see what they were doin’ to her, except that it musta hurt. I saw somethin’ gleamin’ like glass, then she went somethin’ like ‘No, not in my ass ….’ then she gave a yelp that was gagged off by somethin’ else."

"You mean, like, by something shoved into her mouth?"

"Something big and hard?"

"… Well, yeah. Like that."

"And you just stood there. Didn’t even think to go get any of us."

"I was, you know, kinda surprised."

"And kinda stupid."

"Hey, they were raping her—or worse! So all I did was yell out ‘What’s goin’ on over there?’ and there’s this scuffle and all three of them split in different directions."

"And you just stood there."

"It was all I could do to watch the big broad run off. And she could run, even though she was kind of hobblin’! Manonman, she hadda’ve been six feet tall, and every inch of it shimmied and jiggled! I could see those tits of hers jumpin’ and floppin’ around all down the block! And that ass!"

"Asshole, you mean!"

"Hey, c’mon guys!"

"You see, my dear? I always have an extra string in my bow. She wasn’t the only one we followed that night. I of course made the phone calls."

"You never cease to amaze me, Ed. Except when you disgust me altogether."

"Tch. Such ingratitude considering."

"Considering your little pets only brought back part of my costume!"

"We’re sorry, Mr. Einstein. We fucked up."

"Watch your language, children. And don’t worry, you didn’t—well, you did just fine. It wasn’t your fault she didn’t wear it all. We got the important parts. I doubt even this one would be stupid enough to fall for the same gag twice, so we’ll have to try something else. But we’ll get the rest. And you’ll make me even prouder than I am already."

Even though it hurt like hell to run like that (everything hurt like hell), SuperNova waited till she'd covered at least 3 blocks and was damned sure they weren’t still after her. Only then did she pause, panting and still whimpering, to pull the Coke bottle out of her outsized ass. That was how scared she was. It was getting light over the mountains and she was stark naked and freeezing cold especially her poor popsickle toes.

Everything she had (and that was a LOT) was hanging out and shaking and shimmying and aching and sssssshhhhivvverrrringgggg!

And what was worse, she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what had happened. She'd had her strength inside, but not outside. She'd beat the cheerleaders without the costume, but then was helpless against Mustache and that absolute BITCH!! Who'd pounded the bottle in between Nova’s outsized cheeks with the flat of her hand and GIGGLED while Mustache reamed and rammed her pussy with that cane!

Pain stabbed at her side and she leaned against a parked car for support. Caught a reflection of her pathetic battered self in the windshield (that kept blurring then refocussing): one eye swollen shut, lips a bloody smear, hair a mess, every fingernail chipped or broken, tits just a pair of black-and-blue watermelons that sagged to her waist.

Oh yeah, this was a really great idea! The latest in a long line!

But now that her fright was receding and with it the adrenaline surge that had anesthetized her, every ache and pain in the battered beauty’s entire awesomely-overblown body went from mumbling to screaming. The flood of agony almost overwhelmed her and she staggered.

Which was why the spotlight only caught a sliver of her as it lanced out from the black-and-white unit down the block. With a squeak, Nova dove into some bushes—and almost screamed at the pain of her landing!

But she bit the scream back and huddled there shivering, gigantic milkbags crushed against her knees, as the police car slooowly drove past, shining its light about at random.

"What did you see??" she heard one cop demand.

"You wouldn’t believe me," the other replied.

The unit stopped. An hour passed … another … a week ….

Then it moved on.

Nova couldn’t help groaning when she straightened. Every bone felt broken, every muscle strained. At least two ribs were floating free and knifing into her insides. She coughed and blood spattered the bush.

But they had her gloves, her boots!

But they knew where she lived—they had her address and everything. They’d delivered that note right into her mailbox. What if they tried to get to her through Walt.

No. Not now. She'd think about it later. Her body, her head, her life, everything hurt too much. What was left of the suit would fix her body—at least it was good for that, if nothing else.

"So how was it?"

"Great. I forgot for awhile how fucked up I am. You earned this."

"Finally. It helps when we ain’t interrupted by overblown Barbies."

"After the hurt that big bitch put on me and Sam before, I never thought I’d get it up again. Beatin’ her up back was some kinda aphrodisiac. Never got a charge that way before."

"Weird, gettin’ those calls. And her bein’ such a pushover this time. Still can’t figure that."

"Yeah, weird. But fun. So, you get all healed up again, let’s have a rerun. Here’s my card."

"I never did get your name."

"Audra. Y’know the weirdest coincidence—I went to that high school."

"So did I."

"And I was glaad to get the hell out!"

"Me too, sister!"

Paige’s restless sleep woke Walt up 10 minutes before the alarm. His giant-titted wife was having another one of Those Dreams, the ones where she would mutter and roll about and shiver. This time she was murmuring something about "high school" and "cheerleaders."

Walt had a brief image of Paige as a cheerleader, her enormous tits filling one of those tight sweaters to bursting and her ass doing the same for a butt-length skirt, jumping into the air shaking her pompoms (and everything else) and coming down so fast her monumental melons fly up and smack her in the face so hard they knock her out.

Watching her writhe about with those 2 huge globes quivering on her chest, he had to admit it: though he couldn’t imagine Paige without them, sometimes those gigantic jugs of hers were like alien organisms that had attached themselves to her. Organisms that were meant for someone about 2 feet taller than even her 6 feet plus.

People always asked him, did he mind having a wife who barefoot was 3 inches taller than him? If Paige was nearby, he’d just point to the 4-inch heels she always wore that made her 7 inches taller. And he’d smile.

For a moment, he toyed with waking her from her dream but thought better of it. They’d had a strenuous session last night—Paige knew exactly how to apologize—and she always needed extra sleep after something like that.

So he got up quietly, shaved and dressed, decided to eat breakfast on the way in.

And was just backing the car out of the garage in the crisp clear morning when a black and white pulled up. For a moment he feared it was about that photo he’d flashed the evening before.

A young cop got out and walked over to the driver’s side window with a piece of paper. He leaned down and said, "Excuse us, sir. We’re wondering if you or anyone in this house received a note like this in the last couple of days."

The cop showed him the note. It read:

"We know who you are and if you don’t want to be exposed, be where you were 3 nights ago at the same time tonight."

He shook his head. "What’s up?"

The cop shrugged. "Oh, probably just a prank. Just about everyone in this area for about 3 blocks around seems to have found one of these in their mailbox in the last couple of days. Not mailed, just delivered."

"Hm. Well, if my wife found it, she threw it away. She’s very level-headed about things like this."

"Good for her. Well, sorry to bother you, sir."

"No bother at all, officer."

Greatly relieved, Walt headed for work.