DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY SEXUAL MATERIAL. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION AND IS STRICTLY NON-PROFIT.

Mystique Maiden, Solar Woman, Comet Girl, The Ebony Avenger, and The Crimson Defiler are all owned by Nightwing316.

Please direct all comments to the-chronicler@hotmail.com

Mystique Maiden:

The Family Business

Chapter 3: Dusk to Dawn

by The Chronicler

BEE-DE-DE-DE-DEET

BEE-DE-DE-DE-DEET

"Hello?"

"Isabelle! How are you girlfriend?"

"Chloe! I haven't heard from you for weeks. What in the world have you been up to?"

"Um...well I, that is," Chloe Hamilton stuttered. She had spent the last 3 weeks living a double-life. By day she was finishing her senior year of high school, studying for the college-entrance exams. And after 10 pm, when her father thought she was asleep, she was being trained in martial arts by the Ebony Avenger and Solar Woman. Sneaking through her bedroom window around 2 am, getting only 4-5 hours of sleep, had left her drained and exhausted.

"Are you ok," Isabelle Caste asked. She had been concerned for her friend. They had known each other since grade school, and she was shocked to hear about the obscene tricks played on her by her male classmates (see Solar Woman & Comet Girl: Friends for Life for the lurid details).

"Just a little tired," she sighed wearily. "Studying for my final exams and the SAT has been really time consuming. But now all that is done. I'm sitting in my room bored. Graduation is in a few days, and I feel like kicking up my heels. How about it? There is a party that some of the girls I know are going to tonight. It's a college party, lots of older guys. Want to come with?"

"Sure, I have the next 2 days off from work, and would love to see you."

"Awesome, pick you up at your apartment around 8?"

"Sounds great."

"Ok, see you th---"

CRASH!!

The sound of glass breaking and Chloe screaming filled Isabelle's ear.

"Oh my god, are you ok?"

The only thing she heard was more crashing, banging, and Chloe's fearful cries and screams.

"Answer me, what's going on?!"

Then a voice spoke through the phone. It was a chilling, deep and resonant voice.

"Is this Solar Woman?"

"Wh-wh-what," Isabelle stammered. "Who is this? Where's Chloe?"

The line went dead. Isabelle dropped her phone. She felt like she had just heard the voice of the devil. For a few seconds her mind was a total blank, and she felt cold and alone. Then she remembered she wasn't powerless. Reaching beneath her bed she grabbed hold of the Starlight Sceptre. Its golden handle felt warm, like the hand shake of a good friend. Blue and white light shone as a beacon of hope from its tip.

"UNIFORM," she said. There was determination and strength in her voice. A blue-green aura, emitted by the sceptre, enveloped the apartment. Her clothing then altered by means of this vocal command: green turtleneck sweater and tight blue jeans became a black bikini; cute little bunny slippers became black thigh boots; a black mask appeared around her gorgeous grey-green eyes; a long, flowing black and gold cape and black gloves completed the transformation.

"WORMHOLE, CHLOE'S BEDROOM," she commanded through clenched teeth. A swirling green whirlpool appeared. Sparks of electricity emanated from it, shorting out her overhead light. A powerful, energetic suction caused her shoulder-length, thick red hair and golden cape to flutter frantically toward it. "Hang on Chloe," she whispered. Her flat, tan stomach and capacious lungs inhaled a deep, profound breath--prominent 40DD breasts straining against her black leather bikini. And, with eyes closed tight, she stepped forward. The whirlpool swallowed her instantly, and then collapsed into a tiny dot, before disappearing altogether.

"My, my, my," the Crimson Defiler said cooingly. Her eyes narrowed, reptilian pupils and orange irises beaming.

Surrounded by the shattered glass from the skylight and splintered pieces of oak furniture, lay Chloe. Her green eyeliner highlighted her closed lids; red lipstick was smeared with blood that dribbled from her nose. She was lying on her side, but the brisk and animated Defiler placed her red thigh boot on the girl's hip and pushed her over. Now she was face up on her back, her white short-sleeve blouse untucked, shirt tails folded up, all the buttons gone save one just below her chest. This brought into focus her swelling cleavage and robust abdomen. Her plaid mini skirt was hiked up, showing the tasty crotch of her virginal white panties.

Her tanned, supple, sinewy arms and legs were sprawled in the shape of an X. They were composed, sculptured from many hours of martial arts training and yoga. Her thighs were especially intoxicating, potent and luxuriously smooth. They flowed upward, in a cascade of flesh and fantasy, to the delightful cleavage of her buttocks below and rising, fragrant pubic mound above.

"Too long, I've been away far too long," the Defiler said lustfully, as she kneeled. Her dark-skinned hands stripped Chloe in one frenzied second. Ripped and tattered remains of mini skirt, blouse, bra, and panties were tossed aside with maniacal abandonment.

The vulnerable teen's 35D breasts, suddenly freed from their confines, bounced and jiggled before settling to their natural shape. The globular mounds of flesh angled outward from the center of her chest. The bumps on her pink areolas were engorged and erect from the cold air, which was coming from the skylight the Defiler had smashed through mere seconds ago.

The Crimson Defiler, her hands pulling at her gold nipple rings, laughed and licked her lips. She paused, her orange eyes tracing over the V formed by Chloe's nipples and brown, trimmed pubic bush. Her long fingernails caressed, lightly scraped, across the girl's flat stomach. She heard something outside the door behind her, and knew she didn't have much time. So she scooped up Chloe and, lifting her overhead, threw her on the waterbed at the far end of the room.

"I have never seen such a healthy, beautiful and well-endowed child. You will be the first to bear my demon seed," she hissed, advancing on her naked and helpless prize. She reached down and removed her red bikini. A massive cock, easily a foot long, sprung to full erection. Stroking it lovingly she then climbed on the bed, and plunged it into Chloe's snug, savory vagina with a ghastly crunching and schlupping sound.

Her fingers ran unhurried circles around and over the powerless girl's areolas, pausing only to pull and twist her plumb nipples. And her keen, limber tongue dove into the teen's moist and inviting open mouth. While that was being done slowly, taking the time to enjoy every precious remarkable centimeter, her thundering penis was repeatedly penetrating and pumping faster than the eye could follow. Imagine the skin-on-skin equivalent of a woodpecker hammering a tree, or a humming bird flapping its wings. Thus was the lust and pent up desire that the Defiler was unleashing for the first time in centuries.

Chloe's battered and sweltering body responded immediately, lubricating her vagina against the onslaught. The juices splattered up and saturated her pubic mound, seeping into her navel, dripping down her gyrating thighs and hips. She could only grunt through her nose as her mouth was full of a twisting, invading tongue.

Outside the closed, solid oak bedroom door, an exasperated Chief Hamilton opened the jacket on his gray 3-piece suit. With one trembling hand reaching over his crumpled black and red tie, grasping the pistol from his shoulder holster, the other held and activated his walkie-talkie. His back was pressed against the door, brown crew cut and furrowed brow framing his fear-struck, dancing blue eyes.

"Listen up," he whispered into his walkie talkie. "Don't answer because I don't want to alert the intruder. This is Hamilton. I need backup at my house asap. Someone has broken into my daughter's bedroom, and it sounds like they're raping her. Get all available cars here now!"

Not wasting another moment, he turned around and faced the door. Raising his gun in front of his face until it touched his beard, he exhaled sharply and kicked open the door. The sight that greeted him caused the veteran crime-fighter to pause. Atop his naked daughter--with rapist's back facing him--was a dark-skinned hermaphrodite, whose watermelon-sized breasts were swaying in sync with his daughter's saliva-drenched bosom. Every piece of furniture in the room was broken into small pieces, scattered by what must have been a sudden and vicious attack.

Chloe's frothy vaginal lips were spread wide from the enormous penis raping her like a jackhammer, and its juices were gushing onto the glass that had fallen from the skylight and landed on the waterbed. Her arms dangled lifelessly at her sides; her legs were bent up behind her ears. The slapping of their hips was the only sound for several seconds, as the chief of the Star City police department froze.

Across town a panic-strickened Jessica Armstrong had already thrown on her blue and white Solar Woman outfit, and was revving her motorcycle's engine. Her green eyes were ablaze, 42DD breasts heaving. Silently she was mouthing 'oh my god' over and over again. A beeping sound interrupted her, and she reached beneath one of her white gloves and retrieved a small communication device.

"You have your police scanner on," asked a woman from the other end, her voice quivering.

"Yes, I heard," Solar Woman yelled over the roar of her engine, already weaving through the rush hour traffic. Her black hair was flying in and out of her eyes, since she had been in such a rush that she forgot her helmet. She lowered the hand that held the communicator to switch gears. "Ebony, get over there right away. Secret identity be damned." Cursing at the gridlock, she leapt a curve, popping a wheelie and nearly colliding with several pedestrians. "I got a bad feeling about this."

"Me too," the sorrowful Ebony Avenger answered as she started her own motorcycle. Tears were streaming down her aqua-colored mask. Chloe was as much her responsibility as she was Jessica's. The three of them had been very close over the last 3 weeks, training the teenager to become Comet Girl. A single woman and an only child and orphan, Ebony had no family other than the group they had formed and named 'Dusk to Dawn'.

Chloe's short dark hair was rustling from an indomitable and puzzling gust of wind that appeared from nowhere. The detritus from her brief but valiant struggle with the Defiler was also blowing about the room, whipped into an elemental frenzy by what could only be described as an indoor hurricane. Electricity arced from a small point that was expanding into a circular tunnel, that grew until it swallowed the entire room. The high voltage caused lightbulbs to burst; the wind pealed off the animal paw print wallpaper.

The Defiler's reptilian eyes darted back and forth, something about this seemed very familiar. She increased the rapidity of her thrusts as Chloe began to regain consciousness. The teenager was so weak she could barely open her eyes. But the howling wind and screeching bolts of lightning were nowhere near the wakeup call of what was going on between her upright, sweaty legs. Her blue eyes flew open and, straining through the tears, saw the white headdress, curled lips, and cruel smile of her attacker. It was then she saw her father, who seemed too shocked and overcome by all this to move. He was, however, straining his arms against the unfathomable and supernatural gale, and gradually lowering his pistol to the Defiler's back.

The expanding black circle, the cause of this indoor storm, seemed to push out from its interior a human shape. The green concentric rings inside it brought forth a virtuous blossom, a steely-eyed Mystique Maiden. With a hollow popping sound the whirlpool vanished, the wind and lightning ceased, and Chloe experienced a mind-blowing orgasm. She screamed, her body tensing and fists clenching the rumpled violet blanket beneath her. Unable to handle what was going on she blacked out once again.

"Mystique Maiden," the Defiler said, spitting out the name like it was poison. "I had assumed you were dead, since I was released from the limbo into which you imprisoned me." She slid her cock out of Chloe's ravaged vagina and then, wrapping her hand around the teenager's throat, drew her close to act as a shield. "Wait, you aren't the protector. What kind of charlatan," she began but stopped mid-sentence and laughed unperturbedly. "I see, the virgin meat has taken up the crusade."

Isabelle, having gotten her bearings after plummeting through the wormhole, raised the Starlight Scepter over her head. Her feet were planted firmly, braced for whatever might happen next. The black boots she wore were resplendent. They wrapped around her otherwise bare thighs, showcasing her black bikini. She had angled her luscious hips and stomach so as to provide a smaller target. Her gaze was lowered, shoulders pulled back, 40DD breasts thrust forward.

This was to be her first battle. She had been dreading it ever since she assumed the role. For, as fun as it was to fly and do these incredible things, she was scared. Not once had she been in a fight. She assumed that, when finally faced with having to act, she would be unable to. Her fears, loneliness and insecurities-she thought-would make her mind a blank. And without the mind, the imagination, all her power was useless. This, however, was not the case as she glared at the horned fiend who held her best friend by the throat. Gone was her own paltry, little-girl will. Instead of her shaky, unconfident voice, what spoke through her was that of a champion and protector. She was Mystique Maiden.

"Virgin only insofar as my purity, you vile creature. Do not underestimate me however, for I have fully TAPPED into the power." By surreptitiously speaking the command 'tapped' she caused a green hand to appear behind the Defiler, which tapped her on the shoulder.

The demon turned her head to see who was there, giving Maiden the opening she needed.

"Let's talk, CHEW the fat."

The sceptre took that next command and constructed 3 lean, green and muscular pit bull dogs. Two of them shot foward immediately, grabbing the Defiler's legs. They sunk their huge teeth into the area just below her knees, and began violently shaking their heads back and forth. She screamed and pivoted her torso to slap them away. It was then that the third raced toward her. This construct was moving at ramming speed, head lowered. The force of its collision with her ribs knocked the group backward off the bed. She landed hard against the floor, scattering all the debris from her earlier fight with Chloe.

"Am I glad to see you Maiden," yelled Chief Hamilton, finally able to bring himself out of shock. His pistol was aimed now right between the Defiler's eyes. "You were the only one of those heroines I ever trusted," he continued, still mistaking Isabelle for her mother. He fired, but the bullet bounced harmlessly off her skull. "What the hell?!"

"Easy sir," Maiden said confidently. "It appears that she's impervious to normal weapons, but not to my magic. Besides, you might hit your daughter."

The Defiler rolled around on the floor, crashing back and forth between the walls, trying to shake loose her magical attackers. She held on stubbornly to Chloe's unconscious form, just as the pit bulls relentlessly grasped her. In the distance police sirens wailed.

"My backup is close bitch," Chief Hamilton growled at the Defiler, his pistol following her thrashing body.

"That may be, but mine is closer."

It was at that moment, outside the window over Chloe's bed, that a gleam of light caught Maiden's eye. A black helicopter was lowering to ground level. Maiden gasped as she saw its side door slide open, and a figure launch a rocket-powered grenade. Her concentration, broken for a brief instant, caused the pit bull constructs to vanish and the wounds they had inflicted to become non-existent.

Still holding onto Chloe, the Defiler braced herself and then leapt toward the skylight with all her might. The grenade sliced through the window, just as she catapulted beyond the ceiling. Chief Hamilton, who only had eyes for rescuing his daughter, screamed in rage and tried to grab the Defiler's ascending leg. The pilot, having seen the release of the grenade and the Defiler rising over the roof of the house, brought his machine off the ground at an angle that allowed the Defiler to grab ahold of it.

Solar Woman and the Ebony Avenger jumped off their motorcycles outside the Hamilton's residence. They were running up the walkway toward the front door as fast as they could, when the left corner of the house exploded. Splinters of wood and shards of brick sailed throught the air. The two heroines, their skintight costumes shredding from multiple impacts of debris, were tossed backward and slammed into their parked bikes. Solar Woman was knocked out by a piece of flying brick, while Ebony pushed herself to her feet. Her long black hair was waving as a billow of smoke and dust was scattered by the approaching helicopter. Reflexively she raised her hands in front of her face to protect her eyes from the needles of dust.

The Defiler was lowered and, now able to plant her feet on the ground again, tossed Chloe inside the helicopter. She stalked toward Solar Woman. Ebony lunged for the naked hermaphrodite, but the wind from the propellers and the pain from the explosion, made her too slow. She was backslapped, and slumped to the ground. Solar Woman groaned as the Defiler picked her up, slung her over her shoulder, and stepped into the copter's side door.

Once again the pilot brought his machine up off the ground. Ebony, ignoring the horrible pain, rose to her feet just in time to see a weapon, mounted on the helicopter, being aimed at her. The electric powered gatling gun, its 6 barrels rotating, let loose with 100 rounds per second. Before she could react a hail storm of automatic fire tore up the ground in front of her, sending grass and dirt flying.

Ebony felt something knock her down. Slamming hard against the ground, she felt her breath rush past her lips. All around her the dust swirled. The sounds of the propellers and whizzing bullets were a cacaphony of imminent death.

The assassin saw that she was no longer moving, and reached for his r.p.g. He ordered the pilot to swing the copter around, so as to face the house. He heard the police sirens getting closer. Smiling, he looked down the sight on his weapon and pulled the trigger.

To be continued in Chapter 4: McSwain's Revenge