Sapphire Protection

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She'd used the new bolt of stretch plastic they'd gotten. It was super expensive, but she'd talked her boss into giving her a half a yard for "product experience" after she'd argued that everyone would want to know how to work with it and what they could do with it. Angela hoped that it would solve her durability problem, being a solid sheet of rubbery material, not a woven fabric. Unfortunately, half a yard didn't amount to much. At first she tried making some kind of shorts and halter-top combo, but the sewn seams split when she tried it on. The plastic was stretchy and resiliant, but once punctured it ripped easily. Now she had to make something out of the leftovers. She finally settled on the simplest possible construction -- a tube top and miniskirt with a superglued seam in back. With so little material left to work with, she had to run it the other way, making for an unstretched waist and bust of just under eighteen inches -- good thing it stretched. It was barely decent, her breasts threatening to spill out of the five-inch top and her bottom just barely covered by the ten-inch skirt. It didn't help that it was an electric, almost metallic blue. Clearly she couldn't go out like this; but if she covered up she knew her forcefield would be compromised.

As she pedaled home she had an idea. The next morning, she made a trip to the nearest thrift store and managed to pick up an old worn-out canvas trenchcoat. The lining was ripped out, the buttons were gone, and one sleeve was missing, but it would do. By that afternoon she'd removed the other sleeve and finished off the ragged edges and narrowed the shoulders and waist. She could wrap it closed to cover herself when she wasn't active -- a bit cliche but serviceable -- and when tied at the waist it naturally billowed open enough to let her forcefield work at half-strength or so without completely exposing herself. When untied, it basically became a cape. Asthetically it demanded she forgo the wings, but a little aerial stability could be sacrificed for her next mission. She wished she could wear her high-heeled patent boots, but the gems were dead on them, so she'd have to stick with the stiletto mules.

"Hey, faggot, quit playing with yourself and pay the man." This shove was harder -- Jim fell against the counter, hand trapped in his pocket. Azmid sighed, "Please sir, you are not helping." Dirk smirked as he put up his hands in retreat, at once complying and disrespecting. "I'm just trying to buy something," he said, bringing the hand with the six-pack down on the counter, stepping forward and hip-checking Jim to the floor in one ruthlessly graceful movement.

Azmid sighed again, looking down to see if Jim would get up. When it became clear that Jim intended to stay where he was put for the moment, the cashier cancelled Jim's sale and rang up Dirk's beer. "ID..." he prompted. Dirk brought down his other hand to slide the five and the twenty across the counter. "Mr. Andrew Jackson, pleased to meet you." Dirk's self-satisfied smirk grew into a self-congratulatory smile acknowledging his cleverness. Azmid remained unamused, dropping the five in the register and stuffing the twenty in his company-issue windbreaker pocket.

Dirk picked up the six-pack and turned to leave, looking down in mock disgust at Jim maintaining a low profile on the floor. Dirk nudged Jim with his foot. "Cleanup on aisle 3," he joked to Azmid, then stepped over Jim on his way out the door. "Catch you later, faggot," he called over his shoulder. Jim got up.

"You should stop letting him push you around," Azmid said as Jim threw two dollar bills on the counter, his tone implying the scene was entirely Jim's fault.
"You should stop selling him beer. I should report you."
"Shut up, I'll kick your ass myself." Azmid threw Jim's change down on the counter and shoved the plastic bag with the Cheetos Puffs Big Grab and Dr Pepper. Jim took the bag and left, pausing in the doorway to brush himself off.

As soon as Jim passed the end of the Quick Mart building, he heard something behind him. He knew it was Dirk. Apparently Dirk was in a foul mood today. Jim steeled himself for another hazing as he kept walking. "Hey, faggot, don't you wanna come over here and suck my dick?"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Jim failed to check his attitude, and immediately regretted the slip.
Jim could hear Dirk straighten up and start walking up behind him. "What'd you say, faggot?" Dirk's tone was ugly. Jim knew running was pointless; Dirk was bigger, stronger, and much faster. He forced himself to keep walking.

"Hey, DICK." A girl's voice, from behind Dirk. Jim heard Dirk stop and turn around; he did likewise. "Who the fuck are..." Dirk fell silent as his eyes interrupted his mouth with an urgent message for his jock brain.

Standing where Dirk himself had been a moment before was a hot babe, dressed to thrill in an open trenchcoat, tight blue miniskirt and tighter blue halter top that shimmered under the parking lot's sodium lamps. Her fists rested on her hips, thrust forward by her sky-high heels. Her build and her costume seemed at odds with the attitude oozing from her super-hero pose. Neither boy recognized the face under the heavy makeup and framed by straight blue-black hair.

"Who the fuck are you?" Dirk managed to finish, cocky anger surging.
"A friend of Jim and Ricky. Leave them alone." Dirk took a threatening step toward her; she didn't react.
"Funny, they never mentioned you. Of course, they're probably too busy fantasizing about each other's cocks to give you much thought." He looked back to Jim, whose face showed confusion and fear, his eyes darting back and forth between Dirk and the girl.

The girl stepped right up to him, less than a foot of space between them. Despite her heels her eyes only came up to his chin. Dirk was tall and muscular; the girl seemed fragile by comparison. "Listen, *Jerk*," she punctuated the name with a hard finger jab to his chest; he staggered back a half-step. "I suggest you *leave* *them* *alone*." Three more jabs pushed him back another step; she stepped forward to close back the distance. Though the sodium lamps behind her kept her face in shadow, he could see her eyes piercing his with a fierce look.

"Back off, Bitch," Dirk spat, throwing his chest forward and shoulders back; she flinched but didn't move. He lunged forward, throwing his chest into hers; she fell back, but instead of landing on her ass like he expected, she glided back a step with surprising grace and resumed her defiant pose.

"You think you're hot shit, don't you?" the girl asked. "Well, you're half right."
"Look, babe, I don't know what those two dick-lickers have been telling you, but this is none of your Fucking business. Now step off before I slap you into next week." With that he turned around to resume his antagonism of Jim. He heard her heels click on the pavement; 'Good, she's leaving.' But two clicks later she was standing to Dirk's left, ready to insert herself between the two boys. Her tone softened. "Go home, Dirk," she said quietly, "I don't want to have to hurt you." This bitch was serious! Dirk couldn't believe it.

"The problem with girls is they Just Don't LISTEN!" Dirk ended in a shout, a swift left backhand sweeping up toward the girl's face. She was so close it caught her on her left cheek, knocking her a half-step to her right, drawing even with him, but she kept her footing. Her right hand grabbed his left wrist. "I warned you," she said through gritted teeth. Dirk felt his arm being pulled behind him. Apparently she was trying to pin it behind his back. As slow and deliberately as she seemed to move, apparently she was all attitude and no experience. Dirk moved his left foot back, turning his body toward her and pulling his left hand away from her. His muscles tensed and flexed as he swung his right hand around, still holding the six-pack, and cold-cocked her in the side of the head. At the same time he pulled his left arm back sharply, spinning her around him like a viscious dance move. The six-pack exploded, cans flying off in all directions as it impacted her left temple; this and his yanking her right arm down sent her sprawling to the ground. Her grip on his wrist released as she hit the pavement. 'Out cold,' Dirk thought. He turned back to Jim, who stood stunned like a statue.

"You're gonna pay for that, faggot," he sneered at Jim. Jim began to backpedal as Dirk stepped toward him.

Sapphire lay still on the ground, gathering her wits. She slowly brought one hand up to her forehead, adjusting her tiara. Her forcefield had saved her from injury but could only do so much to deflect the force of the blow. Gems or no gems, she was still just a girl of 115 pounds or so. Bulletproof and immovable weren't the same thing. And Jesus Dirk was quick! Sapphire had underestimated his athleticism (as much as she'd overestimated her own non-existent fighting skill). She wiped her temple with her hand and checked it -- no blood, and she didn't feel any pain exactly. Just a little dizziness. She shook out the cobwebs as she stood up and looked herself over. Her skirt had hitched up one hip. She tugged it back down. And her nipples peeked out over her top; she yanked it up, restoring the narrow stretchy band of plastic to covering the middle half of her firm breasts, curves evident both above and below the tight blue band. Both wristbands were still intact. Sapphire looked up; Jim had retreated some twenty yards across the parking lot, and Dirk was looming over him. She heard the Thud! of the first gut-punch as she saw poor little Jim double over. Dirk raised both hands over his head to deliver a chop to the back...

"Hey!" she yelled. Dirk froze. He looked at her, the anger giving way to disbelief as he watched her get back on her feet. "I'm not finished with you yet," she seethed.

What the hell? He expected her to be out cold. He expected her face to be swollen and bruised from the six-pack he belted her with. (He hadn't meant to do that, but she grabbed him and he reacted instantly without thinking. Served her right, though.) He expected her to be crying home to daddy. But there she was, standing there looking tough, ready for more, and without a scratch on her.

Dirk shoved the still-bent-over Jim, who fell to the ground with a grunt. Straightening up, Dirk turned to face her. "Go home, you stupid cunt. This is between me and the faggot." This was supposed to be a quick beating before going back home for a night of beer and pirated satellite porn. Then she had to butt in. "Go home before I hurt you." He flexed his muscles to punctuate the threat.

The girl crouched slightly, her gorgeous legs flexing. Dirk's football experience told him what would happen next: her stance and the way her hips moved she would leap into a run toward him. But his instincts weren't calibrated for what he saw next. She leapt into the air, higher than he expected based on her size and the handicap of her high heels. And she kept rising. And coming toward him. Like she'd bounced off a trampoline. His head kept tilting back as his eyes followed her impossible progress. Her sleeveless long coat flaring out behind her like a superhero's cape, long black hair swept back, both tracking upward, indicating her descent. The tiny girl 20 yards away was now looming over him, arms up, one leg straight down, the other bent at the knee and pulled up underneath her, like that chick in The Matrix just before she kicked that cop... he thought he saw her panties...

Sapphire had misjudged her leap. Too low, too fast. She'd intended to land in front of him with a quick kick to the nuts. Instead she reached him still four feet off the ground, her kick landing squarely in his chest, driving him backwards right in her path. She was coming too fast to get her feet clear of him. He landed hard on his shoulder, and she landed hard on top of him, their legs tangled.

Dirk couldn't breathe. His whole body was numb from the impact. This little girl on top of him couldn't weigh more than 125 pounds, but she hit him so fast, and he hit the pavement so hard, it knocked the wind out of him. Before he could recover, she'd grabbed his wrists and slammed them to the ground.

Dirk had been tackled before -- pavement wasn't much harder than artificial turf. Numbness gave way to full-body pain which gave way to adrenaline. He raised his arms...

Or not. Even with all her weight pressing down on his wrists, he should have been able to lift her up by the arms -- he bench-pressed cheerleaders as a warm-up before every game -- but it felt like his arms were pinned under a truck.

He bucked his hips and kicked his legs, trying to throw her off him. She rode him like a cowboy on a wild bull, her knees gripping his thighs. He felt her ample chest bouncing on his. All the while his wrists felt nailed to the ground.

Sapphire held on for all she was worth, all the while using her gem-force to hold his wrists down. She pointed her feet up into the air behind her, using gem-force to push back down each time Dirk bucked. She felt her miniskirt inch up to her hips. Her breasts bounced up and down violently. Her knees smacked the pavement repeatedly as Dirk kicked and bucked. She felt her coat flap up and down, caressing her backside and the backs of her legs. She couldn't see straight. After nearly a minute, Dirk stopped, breathing hard.

Dirk lay there motionless, staring hate into this... gorgeous girl's eyes. Her long black hair hung down around her face, but he could see her piercing blue eyes as if they glowed.

"You're going to leave Jim and Ricky alone from now on, right?" She seemed to press his wrists right into the pavement as she said this; Dirk hoped his wrists weren't broken.

"Yeah, whatever," he acquiesced.

Sapphire relaxed her legs, and began to push herself up off him. Then suddenly, she found their positions reversed, she pinned to the ground on her back and he on top of her. Dirk had levered her over with his legs, too quickly for her to realize what was happening until it was too late. Sapphire unleashed a bolt of force, but all she could do was knock the top off the garbage can at the other end of the parking lot.

Dirk lay there, all of his weight pressing down on her. The girl flailed her legs and pushed weakly against his hands holding down her arms; he could hear her high heels scratching for traction. His crotch pressed against hers; he felt himself swell against her warmth.

Sapphire squirmed underneath him. She was powerless in this position; her movements only served to grind herself against his hardening rod. And her body was beginning to respond to the stimulation. He leered at her. "You like that, don't you slut?"

Her trenchcoat was twisted to one side. With her skirt rucked up around her hips, her tissue-thin panties perforated against the rough pavement as she struggled. She felt her heel slip off one shoe as a string unraveled. Her heart skipped a beat; she could ill afford to lose a shoe now. She stopped struggling.

Dirk brought her hands together over her head, pinning both wrists down with one big paw. He leaned his weight into that hand; she tested him briefly but realized she couldn't break free from the strong weighted grip of the football star. Being almost a foot taller than his would-be attacker had its advantages...

Now he had one hand free. Predictably, he grabbed and rubbed Sapphire's breasts. He tugged clumsily at her stretch plastic tube top, but it clung to her skin so tightly he couldn't quite get it worked down all the way from this awkward angle. He resumed squeezing, watching her face for her reaction. Sapphire squirmed a bit; despite her look of hate her nipple hardened at Dirk's rough pinches.

His rock-hard cock nestled up against the slut's moist lips felt good. "Baby, we should be fucking, not fighting." He thrust up against her, slowly, with an increasing range of motion.

Sapphire felt a flash of heat run through her. This wasn't good. She had to focus. She had to take control of the situation. That's what a superheroine would do.

She felt the pressure on her wrists lessen slightly with each of Dirk's thrusts. She began slipping one hand out a little bit with each cycle. She almost had it free when Dirk stopped suddenly. He stiffened up. She felt a wetness down below that wasn't her own. Looking up at him she saw Dirk's eyes lose focus momentarily.

The girl yanked her arm out, freeing it. Dirk's eyes opened wide in surprise and anger, but not fear. What could she do, slap him? He could take it. Unfortunately, it was her right arm -- the wrong side, he couldn't grab it because his opposing hand was holding her other arm down. Then it occurred to him that girls fight dirty; she might try to claw his eyes out. He brought his free hand up above her head to switch her restrained wrist from one hand to the other so he could grab her free arm.

Sapphire balled her hand into a fist and slammed it into his ribcage. From her position she couldn't have put much speed into the punch, but her gem's force augmentation lifted Dirk right off the ground. His grip on her other hand slackened. His eyes looked like they'd fall right out of his head as the air left his lungs forcefully. His throat made a dry deflating sound. The jock collapsed on top of her, his stomach muscles quivering. He took a half-gasp, his face contorting with pain. Sapphire gathered her hands under his sagging chest and bench-pressed him off her violently; he flew up in the air like a marionette jerked up off stage and crumbled to the ground between her feet.

The heroine quickly got to her feet and took a step back; she wouldn't let him get close to her again. Dirk slowly rolled back and forth, gasping for breath; he was sure his ribs were broken. His coach was going to kill him, if his dad didn't kill him first.

"Get up and fight like a man," she taunted. He slowly reassembled himself, getting up to one knee, pausing to let the bolt of pain in his side fade. "I give," he said through clenched teeth.

"Did you leave Ricky or Jim alone when they asked you to?"
"Yeah..."
"Liar!" she taunted. "But you're going to leave them alone now, aren't you?"
He said nothing as he got to his feet, a shooting pain taking his breath away.
"Aren't you?" Sapphire repeated.
"You can't protect them all the time," he said weakly.

She pointed both fists at him and blasted him back off his feet, fifteen feet out of the parking lot and into the gutter. He lay there, motionless, a barely-audible groan the only indication that he was still alive.

Sapphire floated across the parking lot, landing on the sidewalk in front of him with twin clicks of her heels. She hadn't meant to hurt him so bad, but he hadn't given her a lot of options. She called over her shoulder. "Jimmy?" She turned to look for him. He stood, still clutching his stomach, staring in amazement. Sapphire realized that her gravity-defying move was hard to explain. "Jim, come here and help Dirk to his feet." She wasn't going to take any chances getting close to Dirk herself, even in his current broken condition.

Jim stood next to her, looking down at Dirk. "Wow, you really busted him up." Looking her over: "Are you okay?" Amazing -- other than a little dirt on her knees and elbows and a few hairs out of place, she looked ready for a night of clubbing. Jim stared hard at her face for a long moment, looking for some sign that Dirk had hit her; he found none.

"What?" Sapphire asked when she noticed Jim staring.
"Well, I was gonna say you should get some ice on that eye to keep it from swelling, but it doesn't look like Dirk hit you at all."
"It was a glancing blow," Sapphire lied. Jim looked unconvinced. "Yeah, whatever," he responded.

Jim bent down to help Dirk up.
"Don't touch me, faggot," Dirk wheezed. "I'm fine." He coughed. He got up, one halting limb at a time. His torso crooked to one side; he would be hurting for a while. Without another word, he turned and began limping home.

"Don't ever touch Ricky or Jim again," she called after him, "unless you want to get your ass kicked by a *girl* again!"

When her adrenaline subsided, she turned to Jim. "Let me walk you home," she said.
"Who are you? Did Ricky put you up to this? You a friend of his?"
"A friend of a friend.Call me... Sapphire."
Jim saw the streetlight sparkle off the baubles on her high heeled shoes as they walked. "Oh, I get it."
They continued in silence for half a block.
"Listen," Jim said finally, "thanks for what you did, but you really don't have to get involved."
"I don't mind." Her unsecured right shoe keep slapping the bottom of her foot as she walked.
"Really, don't. He'll hurt you."
"Do I look hurt?"
"No, but he had you pinned. He could have killed you."
"Doubt it. Besides, he's not the killing type."
"Well anyway, thanks but no thanks. I don't want you to get hurt because of me. He'll just find me later anyway. He's not usually this bad."
Sapphire was unconvinced. "He'll leave you alone if he knows what's good for him."
"No he won't. He doesn't like being told what to do. Especially not by a girl."
"We'll see."
"Anyway, I just try to avoid him. Most of the time he just pushes me around a little. It's not so bad."
"It's not right."
"That's life. I'm used to it. I have to be. Another month, he'll be too busy with football to have much time for me."
"If he's recovered from tonight by then."
"Well, thanks, but really, don't interfere. It'll just make him worse."
"I can handle Dirk."
"If you say so."
"Trust me. Tonight he got lucky. I was careless. I won't make the same mistake next time."

He was on the floor in his room. He'd collapsed there after limping home. Some... *girl* had beaten him up. Some kind of kung-fu slut. It wasn't fair, ambushing him like that. But he'd be ready for her if she dared show her face around him again. And as for Jim and Ricky... there were gonna pay.