Donna Storm’s Defeat of Supergirl
by
Tom diCentauri
During Christmas break of 1964 Linda Danvers lingered in her room at the Alpha Lambda sorority house. Unfortunately for her, Donna Storm was the only other person in the house at the time and she was itching to try out a little something she had obtained from Doris Satherwitte, president of the Tsi-Pi-Delta Sorority.
Donna’s heart was beating rapidly as she approached Linda’s room with a strange-looking rod in her hand. She knocked on Linda’s door and when Linda opened the door she held up the rod.
“Is this yours?” Donna asked as she reached out as if to offer the rod to Linda and touched its butt to her hand. “Wait! Don’t move!” Donna said. She pulled the rod back and waited.
Several minutes passed. Donna stood trembling, giving Linda a quizzical look. She waved her hand in front of Linda’s face and got no response. She relaxed and smiled, then touched Linda with the butt of the rod again.
“Take off your clothes,” Donna commanded.
Helpless to disobey, Linda started undressing and almost immediately revealed her rather unusual under-clothing.
“Why are you wearing a Supergirl costume under your clothes?” Donna asked.
“Because I am Supergirl,” Linda replied. Then she took off her brunette wig to reveal her blond hair underneath.
“Well, well, well,” Donna said, “this is even better than I expected.”
Linda, now changed into her Supergirl persona, started to take off her costume.”
“No, don’t take off your Supergirl costume,” Donna said. “Put your Linda stuff away, then get your raincoat and shower cap and come with me.”
Supergirl went back into Linda’s room and put away her Linda clothes and wig. Then she took her transparent-blue plastic raincoat from the closet and her Fairy Princess shower cap from the drawer in which she kept it and went back to Donna. Under Donna’s control, she followed Donna back to Donna’s room and stood waiting to serve Donna’s pleasure. Donna took Supergirl’s raincoat and shower cap and tossed them onto her bed. Then she went into her closet and brought out a chest, which she set by her desk and opened the lid.
“I never dreamed that I could open my hope chest so soon,” she said. “OK, take off all of your clothes and put them on my dresser.”
For Supergirl it was like watching a complete stranger from the inside. She tried to resist, but her body disobeyed her and she could only watch herself obey Donna’s command. A moment later she was standing completely naked before the woman whose every nasty scheme she had thwarted since coming to Stanhope.
Donna looked her over, then picked up her shower cap off her bed and handed it to her. “Put this on,” she commanded.
Supergirl took her shower cap and put it on. Deftly she tucked her blond hair into the Pert and Pretty™ shower beret, the hair puffing out the transparent-white plastic with its tiara-like pattern of little white and silver starbursts. Then she put her hands down at her sides and stood like a soldier at attention.
“Now,” Donna said, “I want you to enjoy being my slave. Satisfying my desires is going to give you the greatest pleasure you have ever enjoyed. So get yourself totally hot!”
Supergirl felt her nipples and aureoles swell up and stiffen. Her clitoris, that little pink gherkin at the top of her vulva, also swelled and stiffened, ending up protruding almost an inch from the opening of its sheath.
“Now,” Donna said, “just before you cum I want you to take a deep breath and puff out your belly.” She held the tip of the wand close to the left side of Supergirl’s neck. She didn’t have long to wait: a few seconds later Supergirl inhaled and pushed out her belly. Donna touched the tip of the wand to a point one inch below and behind Supergirl’s left ear.
An odd blur appeared at the contact point and resolved into a translucent white valve nipple and its half-inch wide aureole, the thing through which an inflatable toy could be inflated and deflated. At the same instant a loud thump shook the air in the room.
Supergirl felt the jolt of something exploding inside her and the world seemed to darken and go quiet as her superpowers vanished. But she got her will back, she could once again control herself, so she grabbed for the wand in Donna’s hand.
Donna simply pushed Supergirl backward and Supergirl went sprawling on Donna’s bed. Moving quickly, Donna put her wand into a box and locked it. Then she turned back to Supergirl, who was struggling to get up off the bed. She pushed Supergirl back down and picked up a white silk cord from her chair. Laughing gayly, she turned Supergirl over onto her belly and used the cord to tie her wrists together behind her back. She watched Supergirl struggle for a minute.
“Feeling a little weak?” She asked as she slapped Supergirl’s fanny. “You should, ‘cause I just turned you into a helpless blow-up doll. You are now my inflated plastic prisoner.”
She grabbed Supergirl by one of her arms, lifted her off the bed, and set on her feet. She looked her prize over, watching Supergirl shake her head in horrified denial.
“Don’t worry. You won’t pop,” Donna said. “Your plastic is indestructible, ‘cause I want to keep you and play with you forever.”
Supergirl looked down at herself and saw how her belly bulged. She looked like she was pregnant and just beginning to show it. She felt utterly humiliated.
Donna took from her hope chest what looked like one of Pert and Pretty’s™ Supergirl shower caps. But there was something different about it. Its transparent-blue plastic with its tiara-like pattern of little super-esses seemed to glow faintly. Donna put it on Supergirl over her Fairy Princess shower cap.
“...does she want me to wear anoth... oh,” Supergirl heard herself say.
“Oh, indeed,” Donna said. “I thought that it would be appropriate for you to wear a Supergirl shower cap, so I used a spell to modify this one to serve as a vocalizer.”
Supergirl was astounded. Donna had somehow gained the ability to render her helpless and turn her into an inflated plastic doll. And to top it off she had magically conditioned a shower cap to enable her to speak.
“Any questions?” Donna asked.
“Is there anything I can do to convince you to change me back to normal and let me go?” Supergirl said with a quaver in her voice.
Donna sighed. “What do you think?”
Supergirl bowed her head in defeat and stammered, “I... I think th... that it would be a stupid th... thing for you to do. I... I’m going to be your prisoner forever, aren’t I?”
“Now that’s the kind of question I like,” Donna said. “And the answer is yes, you’re going to be my big blow-up slave-toy forever.”
Supergirl struggled to avoid breaking down and crying. “Sh... should I c... call you Mistress?” she said, half sobbing.
Donna stuck her tongue between her lips and blew a flatulent noise. “No, I have always thought that sounded dumb. Besides, I enjoy hearing people say my name. So you may call me Donna.”
“OK,” Supergirl said and then added, “I mean, yes, Donna.”
“Good,” Donna said. She took a mass of soft, smooth, transparent-green plastic from her hope chest and set it on the floor in front of Supergirl. “Step into this,” she said.
Supergirl stepped onto the center of the mass and felt her feet come to rest on a rubbery mound. Donna pulled what turned out to be a double-walled skirt up around Supergirl’s legs, pulling its elastic waistband around her waist. Supergirl saw near the skirt’s base a valve through which the skirt could be inflated.
Donna went to her closet and brought out a Blowsuck (technically Storm Industries’ Bidirectional Blower), a machine typically used to inflate and deflate plastic furniture and toys. She set it on the floor and plugged it in. She turned it on, set to “inflate”, and uncoiled the thin rubber hose. Kneeling before Supergirl, she pushed the little nozzle into the skirt’s valve and watched the skirt inflate.
At first nothing seemed to be happening beyond the whooshing sound of air rushing into the skirt. Then the outer skirt began to bulge outward and Supergirl could feel the inner skirt pushing between her legs. Soft, smooth plastic kissed her buttocks and pressed against her vulva. As the skirt filled with air and the pressure built up Supergirl felt almost like a sexual tension were growing within her. Looking down, Supergirl could see that she was trapped in a transparent-green plastic rocking skirt that had the futuristic-styled ess of Storm Industries printed on the front in gold. When the skirt was blown full Donna pulled the nozzle out of the valve and turned off the Blowsuck.
Donna used both hands to pat opposite sides of the skirt to test its tautness and then held it and rocked it to and fro.
“How do you feel?” Donna asked.
“Kinda helpless,” Supergirl said.
Donna smiled up at her. “Perfect!” she said. Then she stood up and went to her hope chest to retrieve another item. She brought back to Supergirl an ankle-length kitchen apron made of transparent-green plastic with the gold futuristic ess of Storm Industries printed on the bib. She slipped the yoke over Supergirl’s head and then held the ties.
“I, Donna Irene Storm, hereby take you, Linda Supergirl Danvers, to be my inflated plastic prisoner to have and to keep from this day forward, whether inflated or deflated, to punch and to bop, to humiliate and to shame, to use and to enjoy; from this day forward until death do us part.”
Supergirl simply stood with her head bowed.
“Do you understand?” Donna said.
Supergirl raised her head and stood up straight. “I... I do,” she said. She trembled inside. She felt more like Donna’s bride than her prisoner.
Donna only reinforced that idea by reaching behind Supergirl and slipknotting the apron ties in a neat bow. She gave Supergirl a hug and then took a step back away from her to look her over.
“You are now the property of Storm Industries,” Donna said, “or, more properly, the property of Storm Industries’ future owner.”
“You mean,” Supergirl said as she bowed her head to look at her new apron, “I’m the personal property of Donna Storm.”
If she had still possessed her superpowers, she might have noticed Donna’s heartrate increase just then and her nipples and clitoris begin to swell.
“So,” Donna mused, “the mighty Supergirl is now my helpless inflatable toy. What should I do with you?”
“Punch me,” Supergirl said. It seemed a rather obvious choice, given her circumstance.
Donna gave her a quick, almost shy, jab in the chest and Supergirl rocked backward.
“Aw, is that the best you can do?” Supergirl asked as she rocked back up. “Pathetic Earthling!”
Donna looked shocked, then angry. Then she gave Supergirl a punch in the belly that sent her almost to the floor.
“C’mon, punch me,” Supergirl taunted as she bounced back up. “You know I deserve it. Punch me!”
“Oh, I’ll give you what you deserve, all right,” Donna snarled. She punched Supergirl and then walloped her when she bounced back upright. For several minutes she vigorously beat the hapless balloon. Punch after punch hit Supergirl and the Girl of Plastic rocked and rolled for her mistress. Bouncing off Donna’s fists and then rocking briskly back up to be punched again, Supergirl taunted Donna. Then suddenly it stopped. Donna stood with her hands on her knees and panted from the exertion.
“That all you got?” Supergirl taunted.
“Just wait ‘til I catch my breath,” Donna gasped, “then I’m going to beat the crap outa you.”
“That would be nice,” Supergirl said. She wasn’t lying. Donna’s punches had made the inner plastic of her rocking skirt rub her clitoris and the apron’s bib rub her nipples. She had managed to avoid climaxing, but she had been well masturbated and she had enjoyed the warm sensation.
Donna paused and gave Supergirl a suspicious look. “You seem to be taking this rather well,” she said warily.
“The Kryptonese do everything well,” Supergirl said, trying to hide her real interest in being punched some more. “Besides, I don’t feel that I’m in any imminent danger.”
“No?” Donna asked in a menacing tone. “And why not?”
“Because you said that I’m indestructible and that you want to keep me as your toy,” Supergirl said. “And who knows? It may even be fun for me too.”
Donna sat down in her chair and simply stared at Supergirl, as if still not quite believing what she had done. For the rest of the day and into the night Donna played with Supergirl, punching her and then sitting in her chair to rest and talk to her prisoner before getting up and punching her some more. It was as if years of pent-up desire demanded to be fulfilled in that one day. But finally the time came for Donna to go to bed.
She undressed herself and put on her bathrobe. Then she put on her Sherbet Delight shower cap, tucking her bright red hair into a beret made of transparent-white plastic that had lime-green, raspberry-red, and lemonade-yellow polka dots printed on it.
“That’s a pretty shower cap,” Supergirl said.
“Do you really think so?” Donna asked as she tucked her red hair into the plastic beret.
“Yes, I do,” Supergirl said. “It frames your hair so beautifully. And the colors go so well with your shade of red.”
“You’re so sweet to say that,” Donna said. Shyly she approached Supergirl, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and then she left to take her shower.
Standing alone in Donna’s room, Supergirl bowed and then arched her back to thrust her belly forward. She quickly confirmed her suspicion that this movement would masturbate her, so she continued to play with herself in this way while Donna bathed. As she rocked to and fro she wondered how Donna would react if she climaxed while Donna punched her.
She stopped when she heard the key being pushed into the lock on the door. The door opened and Donna came back into the room. Locking the door behind her, she then turned and confronted Supergirl.
“Do you know what would be really nice on a cold December night?” Donna said as she sauntered around her punching bag.
“There’s lots of things,” Supergirl said, “but I’m afraid....” Her voice quavered. “I’m afraid I’ll guess wrong. Please, tell me what you have in mind? What would be nice on a cold December night?”
Standing behind her prisoner, Donna put her mouth near her right ear and said softly, lovingly, “Snuggling up to a warm plastic pillow.”
“Well,” Supergirl said with an air of relief in her voice, “my guess came close. I would have guessed keeping my mistress warm in bed.”
“Hmm,” Donna mused. “Close enough. But there’s something else I want you to do first.”
“H... how may I serve your pleasure, Donna?” Supergirl asked.
“Nothing bad,” Donna said reassuringly. “I just want to see you model our raincoats.” She took the apron off Supergirl and then set the Blowsuck to deflating the rocking skirt. As the skirt deflated, Donna went to her closet, brought out her raincoat, made of transparent-white plastic on which charcoal-gray polka dots had been printed, and tossed it onto her bed beside Supergirl’s raincoat (all right, technically it’s Linda’s – TdC). Next she took from one of her dresser drawers a green packet that she shook out to reveal it as a transparent-green plastic raincoat that had the gold Storm Industries logo printed over the left breast. She tossed that onto her bed, then untied Supergirl’s hands.
Supergirl pulled down the deflated rocking skirt after Donna shut off the Blowsuck and set it by her desk. She then stepped out of the skirt and went to stand by Donna’s bed. It would be the first time since she had come to Earth that she would be able to fully enjoy the sensations of the soft, smooth plastic film of a raincoat on her bare body. She decided to make the most of the opportunity.
She put on her own transparent-blue plastic raincoat first. She had decided to act out a little drama for Donna’s enjoyment. She would start as Supergirl, then she would be captured by Storm Industries, and finally she would submit to being Donna’s personal property, represented by Donna’s personal raincoat.
She knew how to strut her stuff. She also knew that she was being tested, to see whether she would try to grab the wand. But she had time, so she didn’t take the bait.
She stood before Donna with her feet apart and her hands on her hips. “I’m the mighty Supergirl,” she said as she ran her hands over her raincoat, smoothing the plastic, “the most powerful woman on Earth.” She strutted back and forth in front of Donna, swishing her raincoat’s skirt in a joyous celebration of herself and of her plastic.
“But then,” she said as she took off her raincoat and dropped it onto the bed. “But then I fell into a clever trap.” She picked up the transparent-green Storm Industries raincoat and put it on. “I was captured by magic technology developed by Storm Industries.” She pointed to the gold Storm Industries’ logo printed on the left breast and then strutted to and fro. “More powerful than kryptonite, it made me completely helpless.” She moved as if she were struggling against the raincoat.
She put on Donna’s personal raincoat, the one made of transparent-white plastic with charcoal-gray polka dots printed on it, and stood before Donna with her head bowed and her hands pressed flat against the sides of her thighs. “So now I’m Donna Storm’s helpless plastic prisoner. I am completely at her mercy and I can only hope that she will keep me forever as her slave and toy. I exist now only to serve Donna’s pleasure.”
Then she began to move. As Donna watched, Supergirl performed the most sensuous belly dance that she knew. She combined the movements with the movements that models used to show off a garment to good effect. She ended the dance kneeling before Donna with her hands clasped behind her back and her head bowed.
“And I can only hope that she will be a kind mistress,” she said.
The Storms were definitely not gracious in defeat, but they could, nonetheless, be reasonably magnanimous in victory. Donna stood up and pulled Supergirl to her feet, then she took Supergirl’s hands in hers.
“As long as you are properly submissive,” she said, “you have nothing to fear from me. I don’t abuse my toys and I’m not going to start doing it with you.”
“Thank you, Donna,” Supergirl said. “It feels so good to hear you say that.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Donna said. “Now, let’s go to bed.”
Supergirl had to drape the raincoats over Donna’s chair and then turn down the covers on Donna’s bed. She trembled with excitement as she submitted to Donna tying her hands behind her back.
With her hands tied behind her back again, Supergirl couldn’t get into Donna’s bed by herself, so Donna picked her up, laid her onto the bed, and pushed her under the covers.
“Now, I’m going to let you wear your vocalizer so we can talk,” Donna said. “But only as long as you’re nice to me. If you say one bad thing, I’ll take it off of you.”
“Yes, Donna,” Supergirl said. “That’s fair.”
Donna went to turn out the light. In the faint light seeping through the curtains from the streetlights, Supergirl saw Donna return to the bed and stand over her. Then she saw Donna take off her pajamas, toss them onto her chair, and then get into bed. After getting comfortable under the covers, Donna grabbed Supergirl and pulled her close. Supergirl felt Donna trembling with excitement, her breath quavering. Donna paused a minute and then rolled herself on top of Supergirl, sliding her right thigh between Supergirl’s legs.
“Oh, you’re so soft and warm!” Donna crooned into Supergirl’s left ear as she slid her arms around her and hugged her.
Supergirl felt Donna’s vulva spread across her right thigh, felt Donna’s belly pressing heat into hers as Donna breathed, and felt Donna’s rubbery-soft breasts spread hot across her A-cup mounds. She felt Donna’s breath on her neck and then, as Donna put her head down onto the pillow, she felt Donna’s cheek brush against the valve in her neck and sexual heat flared up inside her.
“Oh, Donna!” Supergirl gasped.
“What?” Donna replied in a tone of mild annoyance.
“You... you feel so strong!” She felt Donna squeeze her harder, felt Donna’s nipples swell and stiffen, and felt Donna’s clitoris poke against her thigh. “Oh, Donna,” she half sobbed, “You’re making me feel so weak and helpless. P... please be gentle with me.”
Donna was panting now. She flexed her hips and slid her vulva up and down Supergirl’s thigh in a long, slow movement. Then she did it again. And again. And with every movement Donna’s right thigh pressed against Supergirl’s vulva and rubbed her clitoris. Then Donna began to repeat her motions faster, uttering a strained grunt with each thrust of her hips. Supergirl let out little squeals of pleasure as Donna pumped her ever more vigorously.
It only took a few minutes for Donna to bring herself and Supergirl to the peak of arousal. She began ramming her hips and right thigh against her inflated prisoner and crying out in a series of quavery staccato squeals. Supergirl felt as if the muscles in her crotch were convulsing in great spasms and she cried out in half-sobbing squeals. For almost half a minute the two women climaxed together, writhing under the covers in each other’s embrace.
Donna went limp then and lay panting on Supergirl. Her warm breath on Supergirl’s valve kept sexual heat simmering inside Supergirl.
“I love you, Donna,” Supergirl said, her voice still quivering with passion. “I can’t wait for you to do this to me again.”
Donna squeezed her a little harder, but then her breathing slowed and lightened as she dozed off and went to sleep.
With Donna asleep on top of her Supergirl dozed off and slipped into a dream:
She wanted to get a feel for the place and the people, so she went as Linda. The intelligence department of the Metropolis Police Department had obtained information about a woman who hung out at the Swing-a-Ding Casino. There was evidence to create a suspicion that she was associated with Intergang. Her name was Joan Ayre.
Linda wandered the floor of the casino and watched. It was obvious who the woman in question was; she was clearly the dominant presence on the scene, mesmerizing everyone around her, including Linda. She stood nearly six feet tall. Long flowing blond hair framed the face of an angel.
Linda felt her knees weaken. She felt a slight dizziness as Joan came out into the room and her heart pounded. In addition to being incredibly beautiful, Joan Ayre had the perfectly developed body of an Amazon. She could actually compete with Wonder Woman, who got her looks as a gift from Aphrodite, in a beauty contest and have a good chance of winning. Yes her body was incredible; it was, as far as Linda could see, sheer perfection. She was well-muscled, but not muscle-bound. Her figure, slightly zaftig, was perfectly proportioned. Her breasts, 40-D at least, stood out from her chest without showing the slightest amount of sag. They swayed nicely as she moved and part of Linda fell in love.
Linda overheard one woman comment that Joan was prettier and sexier than Supergirl and she wasn’t inclined to disagree. Then some imbecile brayed that Supergirl would hate Joan immediately upon seeing her.
No, Supergirl would not hate Joan. Even though she knew that she could stand next to Joan and not be the center of attention, she would not hate her for it as the imbecile implied. That kind of vanity had been recognized as a sign of weakness and had been excised from the Kryptonese psyche a long time ago.
For several hours she explored the casino, noting the areas enclosed in lead to thwart her x-ray vision. She also kept Joan in view, wondering what it was about her that made her feel weak in the knees. Then she noticed that the crowd in the casino was beginning to clear out and decided that it was time for her to leave.
She began to walk toward the exit. Suddenly Joan stepped in front of her and blocked her path. Two burly men stood on either side of her.
“Is something wrong?” Linda asked.
“That’s what we want to know,” Joan said. “Come with me, please.”
She led the way and Linda had no choice but to follow her. They came to an elevator whose doors only opened when Joan tapped a code into a keypad mounted on the wall. Joan and Linda entered the elevator and the men remained behind.
“It’s always interesting to us,” Joan said as the elevator rose, “when someone comes alone into a casino and doesn’t play any of the games.”
“This is the first time I’ve been here,” Linda said, “and I was just looking to see what you have.”
The elevator doors opened and Joan escorted Linda out into an office space. “Idle curiosity?” Joan said. “Perhaps. And perhaps something else?”
“What else could it be?” Linda said. “As I said, I was just trying to see what games you have.”
“Mm hm,” Joan muttered noncommitally. She opened the door to a private office, gestured for Linda to enter, and closed the door behind her as she followed Linda into the space. She indicated that Linda should sit in the chair in front of the desk.
Linda sat in the chair, noticing what looked like a psychiatrist’s couch set against the opposite wall.
“Let’s see if you’re wearing a wire,” Joan said as she reached for Linda’s blouse.
“No, please, don’t,” Linda said. She tried to push Joan’s hands away, but found that she couldn’t. A strange feeling swept over her. Being so close to and touching this stunningly beautiful woman was making her feel weak. She felt that she understood what people meant when they talked about breathtaking beauty, because she was having difficulty breathing. Then she understood: her superpowers were gone.
“Oh, my God!” Joan said, “It’s really you! You’re really Supergirl!” Then she added, grinning with delight, “and you’re my prisoner.” She finished removing Linda’s blouse, then pulled her up out of the chair and shoved her up against the wall. Her dress had a silken cord around her waist: she removed that and used it to tie Supergirl’s hands behind her back. Then she pushed Supergirl back down onto the chair and picked up the phone. She dialed a number and told the person on the other end to bring “the collar” to Interview Room 6.
“Joan, please don’t do this,” Supergirl begged. “You can be better than this.”
Joan removed Linda’s wig and tossed it onto her desk with Linda’s blouse. “Better than what?” she asked. “The most successful moll in the entire underworld? What’s better than rich and powerful?”
“Power isn’t measured by what you have,” Supergirl said, “but by what you give of yourself.”
“That’s for losers,” Joan sneered. “And you’re the prime example. As far as I’m concerned,” Joan said, going nose to nose with Supergirl, “you are just a soft rubber punching bag.”
A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. Joan opened the door a crack and received what looked like a strange necklace. She then closed the door and locked it. She brandished the thing at Supergirl.
“This will keep you powerless and weak for me,” she said. “It’s got just enough kryptonite in it.” She slipped it around Supergirl’s neck and fastened it will a series of clicks. “It won’t kill you, but you will never be able to escape from me. You’re going to be my toy for the rest of my life.” She went behind Supergirl and put her mouth close to Supergirl’s right ear. “You’re going to be my soft rubber punching bag and maybe... something else.”
A helpless feeling swept over Supergirl as all her attempts at resistance came up completely futile.
Joan pulled Supergirl up out of the chair and stood her up. She pulled Linda’s skirt and half slip down and let them fall to the floor. She pushed Supergirl to the couch and laid her down on it. Then she took off Linda’s shoes and bobby socks. Going to pick up Linda’s skirt, she piled Linda’s other clothes and wig on it and folded it into a bundle. Trembling with excitement, she went back to the couch and stood over Supergirl, looming over her prisoner as if to gloat over her.
Joan lifted Supergirl’s skirt and lay herself on the couch, snuggling right up next to Supergirl. Supergirl started to protest, but Joan simply kissed her, pressing their lips together forcefully enough to prevent Supergirl from saying anything. Supergirl tried to squirm away, but Joan put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She put her free hand on Supergirl’s lower belly, stroking the warm, rubbery flesh, then she pulled Supergirl’s panties down enough to expose her crotch.
Supergirl squeezed her thighs together, but it was no use. Joan effortlessly slipped two fingers into Supergirl’s vulva and rubbed her inner labia. Supergirl quivered with excitement. Joan sensed that reaction and slipped her fingers into Supergirl’s vagina and began stroking its inner wall as she used her thumb to stroke Supergirl’s clitoris. Supergirl couldn’t accept what was happening; she, the Princess of Power, was being ravished. Worse, she was enjoying it.
The big, beautiful woman had Supergirl pinned to the couch and was ravishing her. With her fingers deep inside Supergirl’s vagina, Joan was turning the mighty Girl of Steel into the helpless Girl of Rubber. Supergirl was struggling to breathe, so Joan freed her from the kiss and went cheek to cheek with her, listening as Supergirl panted, gasping for air. Suddenly Supergirl began to convulse, as if she were having an epileptic fit. Joan felt her vulva twitch and then pulsate: the muscles seemed to be trying to pull her vulva into her body, then released it, then pulled again.
“No,” Supergirl gasped in a quavery moan, “no, please.” She let out a series of tremulous squealing grunts and then lay still, panting from her exertion.
Joan pulled her hand out of Supergirl’s now-wet vulva and wiped it on Supergirl’s skirt. She got up off the couch, flipping the skirt down over Supergirl’s legs. She was panting herself. Having made Supergirl climax filled her with a potent lust.
“OK, little girl,” she said with a leer. “You’ve had your fun, so now it’s my turn.”
She stood over Supergirl and began to undress herself.
“This is so exciting,” she said. “I get to enjoy every moll’s hottest wet dream... cumming all over Supergirl.”
Joan sat down on her, pinning Supergirl’s shoulders to the couch with her knees and straddling her chest. Supergirl saw that Joan’s vulva sat just above her super-ess emblem. Then Joan, looming over her and gazing down on her, began to rock back and forth. Supergirl saw her labia swell up, their wrinkled flesh filling out and becoming as smooth as the plastic of a shower cap.
“Now it’s time for you to get your baptism of cum,” Joan said with a quavery voice. She arched her back, looked down at Supergirl, and put her right hand into her crotch. She ran her fingers up and down her labia and soon her clitoris emerged from under its little hood and Joan stroked it with her thumb.
As she rubbed herself Joan grunted as if trying to lift a heavy weight. She was breathing heavily and with her free hand she squeezed and fondled Supergirl’s breasts.
Suddenly Joan went rigid. Her grunts turned into quavery squeals as the expression on her face became one of intense pain. Her whole vulva seemed to pulsate, appearing to get pulled inward and then released rhythmically, and her vagina spat hot, clear fluid and soaked Supergirl’s emblem. For fifteen long seconds Joan climaxed on her prisoner, wetting most of the front of her minidress’s bodice.
Joan sat on Supergirl and panted. Idly she reached out and played with Supergirl’s face, tweaking her nose, flipping her lips, and pinching and patting her cheeks. When she caught her breath she dismounted Supergirl, stood up, and put her clothes back on.
Supergirl just lay on the couch, feeling devastated. She had been humiliated and she still could not understand how it happened. How had Joan trapped her?
From a drawer in the desk Joan took a blindfold, a ball gag, and a package made of satiny-smooth black plastic. She then pulled Supergirl up off the couch and stood her on her feet. She shook out the plastic package, revealing it to be a poncho, and put it on Supergirl. Next Joan put the blindfold and the ball gag on her prisoner, then pulled up the hood of the poncho. Finally she rolled up Linda’s wig and clothes into a bundle, tucked it under her arm, and led Supergirl out of the room.
“You feel so soft and weak,” Joan whispered as she wrapped her free arm around Supergirl’s shoulders and escorted her to an elevator that could only be operated by a key. “I just know I’m going to enjoy playing with you.”
Supergirl was kept in a cage in the living room of Joan’s penthouse apartment above the casino. The collar kept her helpless, unable to avoid her fate. For two days Joan kept her there. During those days Joan would bring women, criminal friends, to her apartment and allow them to play with Supergirl. With her hands tied behind her back, Supergirl had to endure being pushed and shoved as if the women were using her as a beach ball. Periodically, one or another of the women would take her to the guest bedroom and sit naked on her to masturbate.
They brought her to a hidden arena deep in the sub-basements of the casino. It had taken them only two days to arrange the event and all of the biggest gangsters in the Metropolis area had come with their wives and girlfriends to watch the ultimate humiliation of Supergirl. She stood in the tunnel that opened onto an aisle that led to the boxing ring in the center of the arena. It had all the feel of an execution. Perhaps that impression came from the fact that they had shackled her hands and feet and connected the shackles with a chain that was too short, so that she had to walk hunched over. At least Joan had laundered her costume so that it would be clean for the event.
All too soon the announcer introduced Joan to the audience. To the sound of whistles and cheers Joan came out of the tunnel on the opposite side of the ring from where Supergirl was standing. Wearing only a pair of pink satin shorts, she came down the aisle bouncing on the balls of her feet, clasping her hands over her head in a gesture of triumph. With most of the audience, Supergirl watched Joan’s breasts bounce as she moved. Yearning mingled with fear and triggered an ancient instinct: Supergirl started to get hot over Joan.
Finishing her dance down the aisle, Joan climbed into the ring. She danced around the ring, allowing everyone to get a good look at her. Then she looked out over the audience as if searching for something.
“Where’s my new punching bag?” Joan called out.
That was the signal. It was her turn to go out into the ring. One of her escorts shoved her forward and she hobbled toward the ring. She felt like the bride in a Bizarro wedding. As she moved forward she endured jeers and catcalls from the audience. The aisle was less than one hundred feet long, but it felt like one hundred miles. The escorts lifted her over the ropes and set her down in one corner of the ring.
“And in this corner, all full of herself,” the announcer called out, “the mighty Supergirl, who has come to put an end to Joan’s criminal activities!”
“Yeah, her and what army?” one yokel yelled.
Boos and hisses erupted from the crowd. The roar was punctuated by people yelling out jeers and catcalls. Standing shackled in the ring, Supergirl felt very much alone and vulnerable. She trembled as her escorts removed the shackles. Then a bell clanged and Joan leaped toward her.
She tried to defend herself, but Joan, with her longer reach, simply brushed Supergirl’s arms aside. Supergirl ducked the blows that Joan aimed at her and tried to go on the offensive. But for years the knowledge that her punches could kill an ordinary human had conditioned her to pull her punches drastically and that habit doomed her now.
Supergirl ducked a left feint by Joan and Joan punched her face with a right cross. Superglrl’s legs buckled and she staggered backward. Exploiting the opening, Joan began punching Supergirl furiously. Supergirl was helpless: Joan’s punches were sapping her strength, what little she had left. Like a pile driver, Joan was punching Supergirl backward, shoving her around the ring. Supergirl was reeling like a drunk. Joan saw this and stepped up her attack.
Then Joan had Supergirl against the ropes. She punched her in the belly. Supergirl doubled over, but Joan slid her arm around Supergirl’s back, put her hand into Supergirl’s left armpit, and held the hapless superheroine upright as she punched her again and again. With each punch Supergirl grunted and her butt jerked up and hit the rope, to the delight of the audience. Supergirl’s eyes began to glaze over.
“Just a soft rubber punching bag,” she gloated as Supergirl gasped for air and tried to squirm away. She pushed her left breast into Supergirl’s face as she continued to belly punch her. Then she pulled Supergirl back and left her hanging on the ropes as the mobsters and their molls cheered her on.
Next Joan administered a series of left-right hooks to Supergirl’s face, whipping her head from side to side. A normal woman would have been a bloody mess, but Supergirl’s Kryptonese physiology protected her from any real harm. The punches didn’t even hurt, but they surely sapped Supergirl’s energy.
As Supergirl hung gasping on the ropes, her legs wobbling, Joan took a step back and raised her arms in a gesture of triumph, making her big, well-shaped breasts protrude. The sight made Supergirl start to get hot inside and that arousal sapped the last of her strength.
“It looks like you’re no match for me, Supergirl,” Joan crowed, “so let’s get this over with. Prepare for your defeat! Bow to your superior!”
With all of her strength Joan punched her right fist deep into Supergirl’s belly, doubling Supergirl over. The Maid of Might crumpled. When Joan pulled her fist away Supergirl fell to her knees and then pitched forward to land face first on the mat. The audience went wild, screaming and cheering. Supergirl hadn’t even lasted one round.
Joan rolled Supergirl over onto her back, grabbed Supergirl’s waist in both hands, and lifted the limp body of the Princess of Power like a rag doll. She slung Supergirl over her left shoulder, lifting her shoulder to drive it into Supergirl’s belly, wrapped her left arm around Supergirl’s thighs to hold her in place, and whacked her fanny with her right hand. She exited the ring and, to the cheers and jeers of the mobsters and their guests, carried Supergirl, her arms hanging limply down Joan’s back, out of the arena.
She slipped into a dream within a dream. It was like she was caught in a pervert’s wet dream (and, to be fair, she assumed that her own wet dreams, based on actual love, would appear equally nightmarish to the pervert). It was a nightmarish phantasmagoria of humiliations that parodied the vulnerability of the normal sexual relationship.
In the middle of her Arabian Nights fantasies of slave auctions in kryptonite chains her grandmother came to her. It was like looking at an older version of herself. A priestess and devotee of the cult of the goddess Kara, for whom Supergirl was named, she was well-trained in the Kryptonese version of philosophy.
“Are you sure that you’re really molded properly for this Supergirl thing?” she asked.
Standing on the auction block, wearing nothing but a transparent-blue plastic serving apron bearing her super-ess emblem, she said, “I was meant to take your place in the temple.”
“The Gods seem to have had other plans,” the old woman said.
“Sending me to a strange and loveless world where I become like a goddess myself?” Kara commented. “What good can come of that?!”
The old woman went to the heart of the matter. “Loveless, you say?”
“I haven’t had a steady boyfriend since Dick Malverne in high school and he acted more like I was a puzzle to be solved.”
The old woman chuckled. “Ever striving to prove and verify his suspicion that Linda and Supergirl are the same person. And then what?”
“I don’t know,” Kara said. “He never got his proof and I only saw him once after I came to Stanhope.”
“Daunted and defeated,” the old woman said. “He chose the wrong challenge. He sought to gain power over you, by learning your secret name, instead of allowing you to test his devotion.”
“I suppose I can be rather intimidating,” Kara admitted.
“Precisely the point!” the old woman crowed. “Confronting a potential mate evokes the fight-or-flight response, just as confronting an opponent does. Why else would we insist on teaching our children the Martial Art?”
“To build confidence,” Kara replied. “To give us all faith in ourselves.”
“Indeed so,” the old woman said. “For those who lack faith in themselves, enough to trust the other, the assertion of dominance, by forcing the terrifying other to endure horrible unpleasantness, can compensate that lack of inner toughness. But that lack of faith can also lead to passivity and submissiveness. Take this as a key, Kara.”
“Why a key?” Kara asked.
“Every key has a lock,” the old woman said as she and the surrounding scene faded away. “Are you the lock for this key?”
Supergirl regained consciousness lying on a double bed. She was naked except for a transparent-blue plastic half slip and she could feel her wrists tied behind her back and her ankles tied together. She could hear the shower running in the adjacent bathroom and guessed that Joan was taking the opportunity to bathe herself. Looking around, she saw her costume lying on a chair next to the bed. She noticed that the emblem on its bodice was still wet: apparently Joan had taken Supergirl’s unconsciousness as an opportunity to “cum all over Supergirl” again. More disturbing, she saw by the foot of the bed a rubber carpet with a ring in its center, apparently bolted to the floor. A rope dangled from a pulley suspended from the ceiling, ran across the ceiling to a second pulley, and then descended to a hand winch.
She noticed that she could no longer hear the water running in the shower. Despite her self-discipline, she moaned softly. She felt the bed move and the pressure of a hand on her left buttock.
“Well, did you enjoy your little nap?” she heard Joan say.
“I can’t truly say so,” Supergirl said, “‘cause I’m not feeling any better.” She rolled over and tried to sit up. “I’ve got to get out of here!”
Joan pushed her back down and straddled her, sitting on her thighs and playing with her breasts. “You can’t get out of here,” she said. “You don’t have the power and as long as I’m around you never will.”
“Why do I feel weak when I’m near you?” Supergirl asked.
“Perhaps it’s love?” Joan suggested. “It’s just like you goody-goody types to get all weak in the knees over the Bad Girl.”
“No, I don’t think that’s it,” Supergirl said.
Joan sighed and in a voice tinged with bitterness said, “OK, unlike you, I wasn’t blessed with superpowers when I was born. Quite the contrary. I was born with a defective heart. I wasn’t expected to live past my teens.”
“But you did survive,” Supergirl said. “Something inside you must have compensated the defect.”
“Yeah,” Joan said, “I got an artificial heart from Professor Vale. It’s powered by a wafer of kryptonite. He was so proud of it that he just had to show it to me before performed the operation. He even opened the power pack by taking off the plastic sheath with its lead foil lining. Poor man, he never suspected a thing when I pulled out the lead foil while he wasn’t watching and put the sheath back on the power pack. So now I have a heart filled with unshielded kryptonite.”
“But,” Supergirl said, half sobbing as tears ran down her cheeks, “that could kill me. Joan, please tell me you’re not a murderer.”
“No, little girl, you’re not going to die,” Joan gloated. “I don’t have enough of the green magic to kill you and I don’t want to kill you anyway. I want to keep you as my personal toy. You’re going to pleasure me for the rest of my life.”
Supergirl couldn’t help but notice that Joan was having a distinctly sexual effect on her and her thoughts turned back to her time in the boxing ring when she was being dominated by this awesome amazon. She reminded herself of the humiliation and violation she felt. As unpleasant as the experience had been, it also made her feel hot inside.
Suddenly Joan got off her and picked her up off the bed. “Playtime!” Joan said happily as she laid Supergirl down on the rubber carpet, positioning her feet near the ring at its center.
Lying face down on the rubber carpet, Supergirl felt Joan tie the cord binding her ankles to the ring set into the floor. Then Joan slipped the soft, thick cord at the end of the rope dangling from the pulley in the ceiling under Supergirl’s left arm, slid it across her chest, and then pulled it under her right arm. Supergirl heard the soft click of the clasp at the end of the cord locking into the ring that attached the cord to the rope. A sense of horror filled her when heard the ratcheting sound of the winch being turned and it intensified when she felt the cord under her arms tighten and lift her up. A few minutes later she was hanging from the rope with her feet dangling only inches above the ring in the floor.
“Now,” Joan said as she came to stand in front of Supergirl, “let’s have some fun!” She gave Supergirl a quick jab in the belly and then another. Then she began to punch Supergirl in earnest, both women grunting at each blow.
Supergirl’s thoughts went back to the boxing match, when Joan was dominating her in front of hundreds of people. It had felt more like some strange lesbian wedding and now they had come to the wedding night. Hanging naked and helpless from a rope while her naked captress punched her made her start to feel hot inside. An eon of evolution had created her to respond sexually to a man’s forceful assertions and her own lesbian tendencies shifted that instinct so that she would respond to a woman in much the same way. In a normal woman what she was enduring would have been a thoroughly unpleasant experience, but the moisture developing in her crotch indicated how she truly felt about it.
“Do you know what you do to me, little girl?” Joan asked. “You make me feel so strong!” She punched Supergirl in the belly again and Supergirl let out a grunt that ended in a little whimper. “Because you feel so soft and weak,” Joan gloated. “My helpless, rubber punching bag.” She punched Supergirl again and when Supergirl swung back toward her she stepped forward, grabbed Supergirl, and hugged her against her naked body. “Oh, this feels so good!” Joan cried out as she put one hand on the back of Supergirl’s head and shoved Supergirl’s face into her breasts.
Supergirl felt Joan’s soft, rubbery-smooth flesh pressing heat into her. She struggled desperately. She wanted to beg for mercy, but with her mouth pressed against Joan’s breasts she could only kiss her tormentor. She felt Joan’s bare thighs rubbing against her own and tried to squirm away. Joan responded by pushing her pelvis rhythmically against Supergirl’s belly, making her right thigh rub Supergirl’s crotch. Supergirl jerked and bucked in Joan’s embrace. She climaxed with such force that it seemed that the orgasm would sap the very life out of her. Suddenly she went limp.
Joan released her then and took a step back. “You get me so hot!” she gloated. Then she picked up Supergirl’s costume and separated the cape from the minidress. She laid the cape on her bed like a beach towel and laid herself down on it. Then she put the minidress between her legs and pressed the super-ess emblem into her crotch. She was panting heavily as she rubbed it against her labia and teased her clitoris with it.
As she hung naked from the ceiling in Joan’s bedroom and watched Joan masturbate with her costume, Supergirl knew that there would be no escape, that she would be Joan’s punching bag forever. Then she drifted deep into unconsciousness.
She woke up when Donna mounted her.
“G’ morn’n’,” Donna mumbled.
“Good morning, Donna,” Supergirl said. “How may I please you this morning?”
“Oh!” Donna said in a quavery voice, “Aren’t you sweet to ask!” She kissed Supergirl. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t do this to me a couple of months ago,” Supergirl said, “before I did all those mean things to you.”
“Hush, my love,” Donna whispered in a assuring tone. “All is forgiven. You’re my prisoner now and I can play with you and enjoy you all I want.”
Supergirl felt Donna’s clitoris swelling against her thigh again.
“My soft, warm plastic prisoner,” Donna moaned as she stroked Supergirl’s left bicep. “So weak and helpless,” she said in a trembling voice as she began to slide her vulva on Supergirl’s right thigh.
“Oh, Donna,” Supergirl moaned as sexual heat flared within her, “I love you and I want you to be happy.”
Donna kissed her and squirmed on her. “I’m so much in love with you, Supergirl,” she said breathlessly. She hugged Supergirl and moved her pelvis as if she were trying to dance the Twist on her. Soon she came to a squealing, shuddering climax.
It was too soon for Supergirl. Nonetheless, as Donna’s movements became more frantic, she felt a tickling in her clitoris, a twitching in her vulva, and then the pulsations of full climax swept away all of her self-control and left her sobbing on Donna’s shoulder.
A few minutes later Donna sighed and said, “I have never been so hot in my life.” She put her left cheek against Supergirl’s and said softly, “Can you imagine what a thrill it is for me to fuck the mighty Supergirl?”
“Is it anything like the thrill I got from getting fucked by the future owner of Storm Industries?” Supergirl replied.
Donna was astonished. “You actually enjoyed what I did to you?!”
Supergirl kissed Donna’s cheek and said, “I will submit to you in bed any day, Donna Storm. I’ve never felt anything as good as the sensations of you getting on top of me and having your way with me.”
Donna lifted her head up and looked into Supergirl’s eyes. “But you’re my prisoner, my slave,” she protested.
“You make me feel like your bride,” Supergirl said. “When I felt you get into bed with me last night I got hotter than I have ever felt before.”
“You’re still my punching bag,” Donna warned.
“And I’ll also be your maid,” Supergirl said, “that is, if you’ll let me.”
“Oh, I’ll let you be my maid, all right,” Donna said. She slid herself off Supergirl, got out of bed, and used a hand towel to wipe the wetness off her thighs and her crotch. Then she dried Supergirl’s leg and pulled her out of bed. As Supergirl stood before her she untied her hands. “You can start by making the bed,” she said.
“Yes, Donna,” Supergirl said and she started by plumping the pillow. “And maybe you’ll let me enjoy the pleasure of being your shower slave, too?”
“You think you’re going to play with me in the shower?” Donna said.
“That would be nice,” Supergirl said.
“That was an accusation, not an offer,” Donna said.
“Yes, Donna,” Supergirl said as she finished straightening the blankets on Donna’s bed. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Looking at Supergirl, standing before her with her head bowed, Donna said, “Apology accepted. Now you may kiss me.”
Supergirl stepped close to Donna. Because she was slightly shorter than Donna, she slid her left arm under Donna’s right arm and put her left hand on Donna’s shoulders. At the same time she put her right arm around Donna’s waist and put her right hand onto the small of Donna’s back. She tightened her embrace into a hug as she put her lips on Donna’s.
“Oh, Donna,” Supergirl moaned as Donna hugged her. She pressed her lips against Donna’s, trying to prolong the kiss as she enjoyed the sensations of Donna’s breasts and belly rubbing against hers. “Oh, Donna, could there be anything more wonderful than being your inflated slave-girl?”
“You seem to enjoy being my punching bag,” Donna commented as she gently pushed Supergirl away from her. “So get back into your rocking skirt.”
“Yes, Donna,” Supergirl said. She stepped into the deflated skirt and pulled its rubber waistband up around her waist. “I can’t wait to bounce for you again.”
“Well, let’s not keep you waiting,” Donna said as she set the Blowsuck to inflating the rocking skirt. “‘Cause I can’t wait to make you bounce for me.”
The rocking skirt went taut as the Blowsuck blew it full. Donna then disconnected the Blowsuck, patted the rocking skirt to test its pressurization, then gave Supergirl a gentle jab to make her rock backward.
“Soft enough for love, but tough enough to take a punch,” Donna said, mimicking the tag line on Everplast’s™ line of superheroine punching bags. “I guess that’s why they call you Supergirl.”
“Sounds good to me,” Supergirl said. “So what do you want to do next?”
“Touch me!” Donna said. “Get me hot! Make me want to fuck you!”
Supergirl beckoned for Donna to come close to her and, when Donna stepped right up to her, put her left arm around Donna’s shoulders. With her right hand she began to fondle Donna’s left breast.
“I almost climaxed when you put these on me last night,” Supergirl said.
Then she gripped Donna’s biceps with both her hands, bowed, and kissed Donna’s breasts, brushing her lips across their nipples and aureoles.
Donna gasped. She put her hands on the sides of her thighs, arched her back, and submitted to Supergirl’s attentions, watching satiny highlights shift and dance across the top of Supergirl’s shower cap and getting ever hotter.
Suddenly the door opened and a young woman with light-brown hair and wearing a purple dress with an orange belt and cape walked into the room. Startled, Donna grabbed up a pair of scissors off her desk and brandished them at the woman. In the space of a heartbeat the woman shimmered and blurred, the blur spread horizontally, and the woman became triplets. One triplet grabbed Donna’s right wrist and pulled it to the right, another grabbed her left wrist and pulled it to the left, and the middle triplet half turned to the door, then spun back around and punched Donna in the belly, doubling her over and shocking her into dropping the scissors. The three avatars of Triplicate Girl (daughter of the unholy union of Bureaucracy Babe and The Quartermaster, presumably – TdC) then used the sash tie of Donna’s robe to tie her wrists behind her back and pushed her onto her bed.
Then Donna noticed what looked like a doll walking by her dresser grow into a petite woman with dark-brown hair. Her lime-green dress, Donna would have guessed, must have been made of some kind of rubber, because it grew with her. She picked up Donna’s Blowsuck and used it to deflate the rocking skirt that Supergirl was trapped inside.
At the same time the box containing Donna’s magic wand seemed to open by itself and the wand floated out, coming to a point in front of Supergirl. Then, just as a photograph develops, fading into visibility, a girl who seemed to be made of living glass appeared, holding the wand. Shyly Phantom Girl put her left hand on Supergirl’s right shoulder, leaned closer to her, and tenderly kissed her lips. Then she took a step back, touched the butt of the wand to the valve in Supergirl’s neck to reverse her plastification, then stood with her head bowed, trembling.
Supergirl felt her weight return, pressing her feet against the weight that had made her bounce upright for Donna’s pleasure. She felt superpower surge back into her as her aetherial nimbus returned to its accustomed home in her Kryptonese physiology. She pulled down the plastic skirt and stepped out of it. She put her left hand on Phantom Girl’s right shoulder and when the quivering woman look up, looking as if she were about to break down and cry, Supergirl tenderly kissed her lips.
Shrinking Violet and Triplicate Girl let out “Isn’t That Sweet” sighs.
“So what took you gals so long to get here?” Supergirl asked as she hugged Phantom Girl and rubbed her back.
“Something interfered with the timestream,” Shrinking Violet said. “We think it may have been the process that Donna used to turn you into plastic.”
“You know these bimbos?!” Donna said to Supergirl.
“Yes,” Supergirl said. “They’re my friends from the Legion of Superheroes in the Thirtieth Century.” Then she introduced the three superwomen to Donna.
“You knew!” Donna yelled indignantly at Supergirl. “You knew that your friends were coming to save you!”
“Yes, I did,” Supergirl said. “That’s why I was lingering here as Linda. I was waiting for them to show up.”
“And you didn’t tell me,” Donna complained.
“Well, now,” Supergirl said, “that would have been stupid, wouldn’t it?” When Donna didn’t respond after a dozen or so seconds, Supergirl prompted her by repeating, “Wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Donna said dismissively, “so you’re not as dumb as you look.”
Triplicate Girl rolled her eyes and Shrinking Violet said, “That’s an awfully rude remark for someone who’s in as much trouble as you are.”
“Trouble?” Donna said with a sneer. “I don’t think so. I know you namby-pambies won’t kill me and I know Supergirl’s secret identity, so we’re gonna make a deal.”
The four superwomen glanced at her, then went into a huddle. Then, as the other three watched, Supergirl stood over Donna.
“OK, here’s the deal,” she said. “The federal government has decided that with regard to superheroes, anyone who knows their secret identities is a threat to national security. So... there’s a well hidden, secret prison where such people are sent and kept in total isolation. It’s your world’s version of the Phantom Zone.”
“You wouldn’t...!” Donna said as she trembled in horror.
Supergirl shook her head. “It’s not up to me,” she said.
“Yeah, OK, I see it now,” Donna said, having regained some of her composure. “I should have known I was being set up.”
“I’m not sure I can see how I was setting you up,” Supergirl said.
“I seem to remember you saying that you love me,” Donna said petulantly. “I guess that was just a lie to keep me off guard.”
Supergirl knelt by the bed, put a hand on Donna’s left shoulder, and kissed her lips. “No, I didn’t lie to you,” she said. “I do love you... a little bit,” she said. “You did try to be nice to me and ... we did have fun together. That’s why I don’t want to send you to that secret prison. My friends and I have another idea.” Then she told Donna what it was.
At first Donna was horrified by the idea. Supergirl, Triplicate Girl, and Shrinking Violet described in detail what the options were. Eventually Donna broke down and cried, but she tentatively accepted the offer. Phantom Girl took her in an embrace and comforted her and told her quietly what her existence would be like if she accepted the softer option. Finally Donna agreed.
Phantom Girl used the enslaving function of the wand to put Donna fully under her control. They made Donna put on her own Sherbet Delight shower cap, tucking her bright red hair into the beret made of transparent-white plastic that had lime-green, raspberry-red, and lemonade-yellow polka dots printed on it. Then they made her arouse her sexual passion. When she was just ready to climax Phantom Girl touched the wand to the left side of her neck and turned her into plastic. Then they formalized Phantom Girl’s ownership of her.
Donna put on her raincoat and the Supergirl shower cap that would serve her as a vocalizer until Phantom Girl could make her a new one (the Supergirl shower cap, obviously, would be reserved for Supergirl – TdC). Facing each other, Phantom Girl and Donna held each other’s hands. Supergirl, playing the role of priestess, led them through their vows:
“I, Tinya Wazzo, hereby take you, Donna Irene Storm, to be my inflated plastic prisoner to have and to hold from this day forward, whether inflated or deflated, to keep and protect, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.”
Donna trembled and stuttered as she spoke her part of the vows:
“I, Donna Irene Storm, hereby take you, Tinya Wazzo, to be my warden and keeper from this day forward, in humiliation and shame, to submit to you in all things, to love you and to obey you; from this day forward until death do us part.”
The women then embraced each other and shared a long, passionate kiss. Triplicate Girl and Shrinking Violet let out “Isn’t That Sweet” sighs.
Thus sometime in the middle of the Thirtieth Century, in a house that differs from a typical American home of the mid-Twentieth Century in much the way in which that American home differs from the average serf’s hovel in Tenth Century Europe, Donna Storm stands inflated in Phantom Girl’s bedroom. In the mornings Phantom Girl puts her into the rocking skirt and plays with her as a sparring partner for her morning exercises; during the day she serves Phantom Girl as her maid; and at night Phantom Girl takes her to bed and makes love to her. She has had to learn humility as she never did in her Twentieth-Century life, but Phantom Girl has fallen deeply in love with her and Donna has discovered that being the hot focus of one special person’s attention can actually be better than being the center of attention of people she cares little about.
On certain occasions, when Linda Danvers’s schedule and the timestream allowed, Supergirl took her raincoat and her Fairy Princess shower cap and went into the far future. There she submitted to being turned into plastic by Phantom Girl and imprisoned in Phantom Girl’s bedroom. During the day she would play with Donna (as playmate, not plaything, of course) and at night she would submit to Phantom Girl in bed.
-o-0-o-
Phantom Girl (Tinya Wazzo) is a glassy clear young woman, who would have raven-black hair if she were not transparent. Triplicate Girl (Luornu Durgo) wears a purple dress with orange belt and cape and has light-brown hair. These women and Saturn Girl appeared in “Supergirl’s Three Super Girl-Friends” (Action Comics 276, May 1961).
Shrinking Violet (Salu “Vi” Digby; lime-green dress, dark-brown hair) saved her from Donna Storm’s scheme in “The Super Cheat” (Action Comics 319, Dec 1964).
Donna Storm appeared in two episodes of “Supergirl”. The first was “Supergirl Goes to College” (Action Comics 318, Nov 1964) and the second was “The Super-Cheat” (Action Comics 319, Dec 1964).
In “Supergirl Goes to College” Donna was introduced as the chairman of the initiating committee of the Alpha Lambda Sorority. She enjoys inflicting excessively humiliating hazings on new pledges. When Linda is invited to join Alpha Lambda she has to defeat Donna’s efforts to embarrass her and then deflect Donna’s growing suspicion that Linda is Supergirl. When Linda is finally admitted to the sorority she proposes that they put an end to hazing and the other women agree.
In “The Super-Cheat” Donna is shown using the resources of Storm Plastics Company to cheat her way through her classes, including using a pair of large earrings that contain radio transceivers to cheat on exams. When Supergirl consistently foils Donna’s schemes to outdo the other students Donna vows to get back at her by hurting Linda. When all of the other students are at a pep rally, Donna sneaks into the science building, steals valuable samples from the school’s mineral collection, and puts them into Linda’s dresser. When the gems and the key to the mineral collection are found Linda is to be expelled from Stanhope. Getting Linda alone, Donna can’t resist gloating. Unfortunately for her, Shrinking Violet (depicted with black hair in this episode) had come from the future, shrunk down to the size of a gnat, and rewired the circuits in Donna’s earrings to turn the transceiver into a radio transmitter that would send Donna and Linda’s conversation to the college’s public address system. Linda’s good name is restored and Donna is expelled.
That latter fact is unfortunate. With the resources at her disposal, Donna would have been a formidable opponent of Supergirl. She would have been the perfect villain, just as Luthor was for her cousin.
Professor Vale and his kryptonite-powered artificial heart appeared in “The Menace of Metallo!” (Action Comics 252, May 1959, the same issue in which Supergirl made her first appearance). Initially the heart that he places in the body of petty crook John Corben runs on uranium, which must be replaced every day. But then Corben discovers that his mechanical heart will run forever on kryptonite.
-o-0-o-