The following is a work of fiction intended for adult entertainment. Ms. Americana is a copyrighted character belonging to Mr. X and used in kind permission in keeping with the parameters established on his website. Any other elements which may be construed as being of original creation the author declares them public domain. Rook.

 

MS. AMERICANA VERSUS THE PORNOPINE

1.

Professor Pratt Phall moved his rotund bulk through the tight squeeze between the stacks of research documents and scientific paraphernalia piling about his makeshift loft lab and inching into a rare clear spot entered into his ungainly almost rolling locomotive stride that made him an easy mark of ridicule amongst the neighborhood elementary children. Squat, fat, with a notable stutter, the graying at the temples balding forty six year old man had spent his entire obscure life struggling to unlock the secrets of sexual allure. He wished for nothing more than to insure that every lonely ‘ugly’ person in the world would have the chance to be beautiful and loved. In this singular obsessive goal he had spent his life in reclusive abject poverty, making a meager living as a free lance chemical designer for various perfume companies and cosmetic labs. Every penny he earned he lost in his endless quest to unravel the secrets of genetic charm, beauty, and sexual attraction.

There had been breakthroughs, small little moments of ‘ah’, but the main pieces of the puzzles escaped him and as he finally reached the letter box built into the back of his door which the mailman had buzzed his door bell to inform that he had received something today and found handfuls of bills, he realized time was running out. His quest was nearing its end, and it would apparently end in utter failure as his entire life had been.

As he shuffled through the stack of ‘last notice’ envelopes he sighed and stopped momentarily on one stating in a cold impersonal stamp of vermilion ink; ‘eviction notice’ and almost crumpled to the floor before he made his way to the rooms solitary chair and slunk down sharing the small seat with a pile of notes and research binders. But there was worse to come in the pile of bills, there was notice of the lawsuit against him which he had lost had turned over its claims to a collection agency. They had already stripped him of everything he had and garnished sixty-four percent of any meager wages he managed to trickle in, and now they had sic’ed the dogs on him. He stared at the unkempt floor from between his knees and pondered. It hurt to even think about it. He looked around him at his entire life’s work and few belongings, were would he go? What would he do?

It was the very lawsuit that constantly haunted him that had been the impetuses that had thrown him off a cliff and undone his life. A litigation beyond any sane measure or survival. And yet for all its terrible crushing impact upon him now, it had been such a trivial side event of the moment when it had occurred. Her name had been Susan Starr, a disgustingly young plain social light who wanted to be the most beautiful woman in the world! He had obliged more for the funding opportunities he saw behind her from her wealthy family than any direct interest in the girl, at first anyway. He had been successful, he had never doubted it. His injections and treatments made her a ravishing beauty and all the city had been astonished. He felt himself a rising star himself and smug with pride and then; green with jealous love and wounded pride, as the girl spurned his advances and made a whore of herself at every night club in the city.

And the money had not come rolling in, Susan Starr was the heir to the Starr beauty cosmetics line, how he had not foreseen the patriarchs less than favorable interest in a new genetic approach to a woman’s beauty which erased her need of applying cosmetics ever again was in hindsight, laughable, but he hadn’t seen it, and when the father began using his naturally make-up free stunning daughter as the spokes model for his latest cosmetic line, “sunset”, he had felt even more used and abused.

In the whole hurricane of the moment of press and parties and deadlines and pitches for other corporations, he had turned to his only assistant, a dowdy rather ugly young woman named; ‘Jane Porker’. At the time he had thought he was simply fighting fire with fire, making his ‘own’ spokes model for his own approach to unearthing a woman’s beauty and radiance, but now he knew he had just wanted to make Susan, now calling herself Susanna, come back to him on her hands and knees. And she did. For Jane’s transformation was even more astounding than Susana Starr’s had been! And Susanna could not bare ever being number two, having had a taste of being the front runner, she came back pleading and promising anything in a blind ego of hunger.

But it had caught him off guard, her she was just as he had dreamed her of being, but it had never occurred to him how he would keep her there. For he had knew but never thought about it, that there was a limit to the genetic re-mapping treatment of his creation. That is, once through the wash was all the humane genome could handle. Her was his Susanna promising him the moon, and he really couldn’t give her the one thing she had come back for, even though he had done everything he could to make her come back to him for that very one thing he alone could give her! For the first time in his life he was stumped.

In the end there was really no choice, he couldn’t ‘undo’ his creation of Jane Porker as Susanna suggested when he had tried to round about explain the complexities of trying to improve upon Susanna’s own perfection. He could either try to gild the lily or else lose the slavering obedient woman kowtowing at his feet. The temptation was too much for him to bare, faced with the first true moral dilemma of his life he crumpled before it and began a losing struggle to enhance and improve beyond his limits and hers.

On the surface it succeeded admirably. She was indeed now, the most beautiful woman in all the world, barring the difference of taste each country and generation arrives at in its own unique eyes and time. She out Harold Harold! Redder than red! Whiter than white! A star indeed! But there had been side effects, noticeable from the instant of the first treatment, but there was no going back. By the end of the first set of injections, even he had been distressed by the now overly apparent changes in the young girls psyche, and had refused to continue any further alterations. But Susanna bought out Jane’s own moral qualms and she had finished what he had started. He had cast out Jane at Susanna’s insistence and had publicly besmirched her, but behind his back, Susanna had scooped her up and set her up in her own lab at her fathers enormous Research and Development branch of Starr cosmetics.

But he alone would bare the legal burden of the fall out of what Jane finished doing to the out of control obsessed girl. And he never once felt any hate toward Jane for it, he had treated her badly and it really was his fault not hers, and besides, while the family of Starr had publicly sought his ruin he was certain that they were consciously responsible for the accident in the lab which not only destroyed all of Jane’s reverse engineering of his discoveries, but Jane herself! In fact, he felt sorry for Jane who had never wanted to be a super model beauty, only a great scientist, he had indeed done her wrong.

The second batch of increased treatments had turned Susanna Starr not only into the most beautiful woman in all the world, it had made her the horniest! She had become an insatiable constant sex craving nymphomaniac monster! In the end, after Jane’s death, another team of doctors had tried to reverse the effects of the second treatment against his warnings, it had only made her hideously ugly and still sexually insatiable. The family through her away into a private mental institution were the girl was on constant suicide watch as she could not bare to live as the ugliest woman on earth. He had thought this was simply too much and had kidnapped her and made her beautiful again, and he thought he might be able to at least ‘temper’ the nymphomania in time with a third set of treatments, but they had discovered him and she escaped and he had gone to jail and then trial. He would have gotten a lengthy life destroying prison sentence accept the jury saw what the family had done to the girl and were furious. He had been acquitted, seen as a rescuer not a villain, but then the family had filed a civil lawsuit and that he lost, he owed them hundreds of millions of dollars which he would never have and which they had no use for, such was the barren sense of ‘justice’ America had fallen into of the last century.

Meanwhile, any appeals had become unsavory as little Susanna Starr had turned into a super villainess called, ‘The Scarlet Letter’! And it was doubtful if any jury could be found who would look upon him with any favorable eyes now.

His life had been ruined, and now it seemed to be nearing its end. Soon he would be homeless, and unable to pursue his legally outlawed furthered studies of a life times efforts and works. There was nothing he could do, what could he do? He looked around the dust mote dim room and his head hurt with emptiness and tiredness filled him as it did much of late. He opened the rattling sticking lower drawer to leaning broken leg desk and pulled out the small machine contained there in, it was all he had left of his once mighty lab, before they had come and taken everything away from him. That had been three years ago, a life time ago, it had been the hart of a machine which he had been tinkering with, a new radical idea he had set aside. His last hope of curing Susanna’s nymphomania and still keeping her beauty unchecked. He looked at it now, and he thought of how unfair it was that the Starr family so rich so powerful had thrown away all he had wanted to do to help humanity to help women every where to just be beautiful as they could be and not have to be alone, as alone as he had been all his life. And he thought of the recent billboards he had seen of the Starr cosmetics and Wade corporations joint beauty pageant and scholarship contest that would be held this week down town in the civic center of Delta City, just four blocks from his tiny garret in the run down slum of Red Street. Maybe, just maybe, he could use what little equipment he had on hand to alter the device and perhaps put it to some final use after all. What did he have left to lose anyway?

2.

Professor Pratt Phall pulled himself laboriously off the floor moaning and wincing in pain. The machine still hummed next to him but all its glass vials were now empty. Tubes fell away from him as he pulled wires and needles out of his body. He felt nauseas and unsteady, as he rose to his knees and crawled across the dirty floor to a small cracked mirror he had left propped against the leg of the broken desk. He gazed into the mirror. Nothing. After three days of treatments, still no visible change at all! A failure to the end, ha! Well, it had been unlikely to alter all his work based on the female genetic structure to now try and so haphazardly patch it onto the male genome. But he had thought, well, it had seemed probable on paper at least, but no, there was the paunchy balding ugly face still squinting back at him with those tinny beady eyes, a failure to the end, huh. The sigh broke off into a sudden sneeze from the dust he was kicking up off the floor in his crawling about, and suddenly his face broke out in pimples!

What?! How odd! He ran his finger tips over the instant bumps, not pimples, too regular in the pattern. He sneezed again, he had always been one to sneeze thrice as a child, never once! Suddenly, out of the pimples erupted… quills! On his arm, face, well all over every inch of his body! White inch long perfect curved hallow quills! He sneezed a third time, despite doing everything he could do to stop it, and the quills doubled in length and filled their hallow centers with a yellow pale liquid! Oh my, he mumbled as he looked at his face and arms, oh my!

3.

Ms. Americana glowered into the ruble of the ruins of what had been a large copper mecha robot machine with enormous crab arms. The police van had already arrived and had handcuffed and was escorting the still dazed, ‘Penny Pincher’ super villainess, to the waiting maxi-security van. Penny had been knocking over ATM machines all over the city in her mecha suit for the last three weeks and it had been something of a chore for the champion of charm to finally bring down the robot suited criminal. But now the copper headed miscreant would be heading to a rendezvous with the courts and eventually a stay behind bars and the city streets would be safe once again for her citizens! It had been a long and somewhat troublesome week for the Queen of Justice. What with Penny Pincher mounting her attacks during broad daylight, and the Ring Master using his mind controlled army of biomechanical mutant animals to wreak havoc at all hours of the night, and the once low level hit man, ‘Jack Knife’ now trying to go big league with his attacks on all semi-trucks and trains entering or leaving the city, and the ‘Ace Squadron’ flying in with their armada of dirigibles for their usual hit and run heists of precious jewels, the still on the lam Mr. Mental somewhere out there laying low, and half a dozen run of the mill robbers, rapists, and three time losers, it was enough to tucker a gall out!

Ms. Americana eyed the skies, nice and blue with just a thinning hint of the nearing autumn, and raised one eye brow. They were about due for another attack from those weird army of atomic flying gorillas again, she had to form a rather unsavory temporary alliance with The Ring Master last time to thwart their goals. Maybe she should be focusing on locating the elusive Ring Master, just in case? But it would have to wait, for tonight was the Starr/Wade beauty and talent completion and Ms. Americana’s street snitches had funneled her a rumor that a new freak in tights was eyeing the on hand large amount of cash that would be awarded out that night as well as the large amount of cash the box office would take in for the fund raising aspect of supporting the local community colleges. This latest warped nut job was reported to be the one responsible for hitting several of the Starr beauty salons, simple armed robbery, men could handle that stuff, the boys in blue, but something like hitting the beauty pageant was entering her league and as Wade Industries was involved she felt she should be on hand to handle the whole thing, as Ms. Americana.

But as she had to be there as one of the judges, as Brenda Wade, she was somewhat leery as how she could also be on hand as Ms. Americana?! Still, if she could pull it off, it would yet again make any suspecting reporters or citizens who might be linking the identity of the two women together, to begin doubting themselves. Such opportunities to do double duty in a single place was important for protecting her identity as a crime fighter. And it would mean dusting off and getting out of the mothballs her most humorous secret weapon! Brenda had made an exact duplicate of herself as Brenda Wade, the robot was cutting edge state of the arts in cybernetics, but it still could only be relied on for a single brief one shot performance. And that performance, had to be carefully staged and handled, by her in her Ms. Americana role. She had used her Brenda Wade robot look-alike twice now. Both times in brief photo op twenty minute hand waves and some brief quips, she had then stashed the robot away and resumed her identity as Brenda Wade to further the illusion. It was easier and safer to make a Brenda Wade dummy than a Ms. Americana drone as Ms. American revealed a lot more skin and thus the perfect beauty of the female form in all its gyrations and motions, and Ms. Americana might be called upon to react aggressively to a sudden situation that the robot simply would not be able to respond to in any believable fashion.

It meant Ms. American would have to spend the next three or four hours over at the Civic Center preparing an area for her appearance for a photo opportunity with her and the robot, as well as a place to discreetly hide it and have her quick change wardrobe ready on hand. A lot of risk, but it paid off handsomely every time she managed to pull it off thus far. Another successful robot and her appearance tonight would squelch any rumors of Ms. Americana being really Brenda Wade for several months again! Besides her original idea to disguise herself and enter the beauty contest as a contestant would not be fair to all the other girls as she would of course blow them utterly out of the water! Ms. Americana smiled at herself as she tucked a wayward large nipple of her opulent massive breast back behind its sheer thin tops barrier of red. White, and blue. Not that she went into all this male oppressive female ogling that these degrading beauty pageants provided, but she did agree that superior women should have the right to follow what path and pattern in life they felt was best suited for them to achieve their best abilities. And some girls, bless them, were born with above average beauty and charm and elegance, and there really was no reason why they shouldn’t be allowed to use that to further their means of support and self attainment in life.

Still Ms. Americana felt a shiver of brief unease pass over her as she looked once more into the clear blue sky, there was a storm coming, one could tell it on the slightly rising wind, but not a cloud in the sky could be seen. Hmmm, she would be extra cautious with the Brenda robot tonight.

4.

There had been nothing to worry about. The robot handled marvelously, and the whole incident of the two of them entering from opposite wings of the stage before the pageant and parading before the cameras had gone off without a hitch. They had taken turns answering a few questions and raised their hands together in a sign of female power and achievement and Brenda robot had given a small speech and the two of them had walked off the stage together arm and arm, waving and smiling. Ms, Americana had then hidden the robot and changed into her Brenda Wade outfit and reemerged for her judging duties, all the while eyeing the silhouetted crowd just beyond the blinding lime lights. Any expected sabotage failed to occur and with the three hour contest wrapping up, Brenda excused herself from the party afterwards and slipped back into her Ms. Americana role and made an inspection of the cash box office.

Despite the small army of police men (men, ugh! What good were they really for anyway! Absolutely nothing! She seemed to spend half her time opening stuck jar lids for the hapless poor excuse for a gender!) the strong box had indeed been stolen! Luckily it had happened only moments before and after leaving the tied up guards to the bumbling hands of their compatriots, she quickly found the means of entrance and escape of the would be perpetrator and set off in rapid pursuit!

And it wasn’t long before the Avenging Amazon overcame the waddling puffing poor excuse for a super villain. She dropped easily from the alley way roof top and blocked the startled round short man from proceeding any further. “Err, what exactly are you suppose to be, anyway?” The super heroine marveled, caught between disgust and laughing, for there before her in the nocturnal alleyways orange feeble glow was a four foot nothing of a man with what must have been a five foot girth of fat gut rounding him into a ball shape. From his wheezing and sweating and apparent struggles to hold onto the forty pound cash box with his stubby hands and short arms, he obviously wasn’t going to be anything of combat threat to her. He seemed to wield no advance weapon or even a side arm, and she pondered what ‘powers’ mother nature had granted this perverted aberration of the already questionable abilities of all ‘males’ that had allowed him to commit those few crimes he had already. The police men had been taken out with some simple knock out gas through the ventilation system through which the rotund man had managed to squeeze his bulk through at least far enough to make it through a window and fire escape beyond, but she could see no hoses nor utility belt which would prompt her to some degree of caution. The beauty salon robberies had shown a motive against women, perhaps the vanity of women, and a brilliance in chemical engineering for she had read in the police reports that he had used some type of ‘unknown’ chemical agent to render his victims unable to stop him or contact authorities for help.

He wore a terrible costume of nut hugger bike shorts, bare legs ending in army surplus combat boots, a pair of thick lens goggles over his eyes, some kind of cuffed gloves on his hands, and a high collar cape which left his entire hairy disgusting fat upper body naked underneath! Yuck! She hesitated in grappling with the repugnant thief and considered a kick to his rather uninspired little package so prominently on display in his skin tight shorts, but he wasn’t making any kind of aggressive moves toward her, or for that matter fleeing away from her, or for that matter he wasn’t doing anything but sort of standing there panting and looking about meekly in an almost rapt confusion!

Suddenly he just continued on his way as if he could just walk past her and pretend she wasn’t even there! She had to snort at that! And as he slid past her obviously making for the alleyways right angle turn into the street running adjacent to the city park, she reached out a gloved hand and latched onto his almost non-existent shoulder. Instantly she jerked her hand back, her palm coming away with several thin needles stuck through her glove!

He spun around and shouted at her, “I am the Pornopine! And my needles are filled with the worlds most powerful female aphrodisiac! Any woman who is pricked by even one quill soon finds herself over come by an insatiable lust that renders her a mindless sex nymphomaniac for several hours! Here! Have another dose!” And with that he flung his arm at her and dozens of quills shot unerringly through the air and sunk into the super heroines chest and exposed taut belly! “That should keep you greedily humping the air for the next several days, eh Brenda Wade!? You see I can now smell the individual scent of each and every woman’s pheromones from a mile away, and I was up in the rafters during that little pre-show display of yours. We’ll meet again. Until then, think of me and CUM!” And with that the little fat super villain waddled out of sight as Ms. Americana found her vision churning into a crimson cloud of boiling lusts and rapturous delight!!!