Ms. Americana goes to Bikini Beach

By Violator

Author’s Note: hit END for a short summary.

A pristine stretch of white sand nestled amidst rocky cliffs on the grounds of Delta U’s Marine Biology Center, the hidden paradise known as Bikini Beach was one of Delta City’s best kept secrets. Free of the diaper-soiling children and bloated old creeps that infested the city’s public beaches, on a warm summer’s day the beach was covered from one end to the other with a sea of scantily-clad sun-bathing co-eds. But despite its idyllic appearance one thing remained true of Bikini Beach: wherever such a rich herd of tempting and unprotected prey assembled, there would be predators. And not all predators slink and skulk in the dead of night.

One bright day, just before the start of the fall semester, three shapely and bikini-clad blonde co-eds strutted out onto the beach. Finding a free spot amidst the pure white sand and sea of sun-bathing beauties they spread their towels and lay down upon them. Then, smirking to one another, they reached back with delicate hands and opened the backs of their bikini tops. Laying out, the three settled in to get some much-needed pre-semester sun.

Moments later three large shadows suddenly fell across them. Gasping, the co-eds lifted their heads and looked up as one to see three hugely-muscled male lifeguards looming over them, wearing red trunks and wide leering smiles.

“Hey, babes,” Chip said, flashing them twin pistol-shooting gestures. “Looking fine! Enjoying the beach?”

“Just so you know,” Chad said, brushing back his spiky hair, “your safety is guaranteed by us… the Beach Dawgz!” He pointed two thumbs back toward the broad pecs of himself and his comrades.

“If you feel like showing us how thankful you are, ladies,” Chaz said, “feel free to come up to the lifeguard station… anytime.” He pointed his thumb to a nearby elevated station, where the lookout post was currently completely empty.

Gasping and twittering, the three lovely young ladies exchanged glances, their faces covered in discomfort. Each raised one hand to brush her luscious pink lips, while dropping the other arm down to make sure her ample bare breasts were covered. “We have boyfriends,” the center girl said. She was their unofficial leader, and coincidentally also both the best endowed and the only natural blonde among them.

“But they ain’t here,” Chip said. His smirk broadened. “And we are.”

“We’ve got wine coolers and a water bed in the back…” Chad said. “Just saying,” he added, with a raised eyebrow and a leering smirk.

The three girls remained silent, gaping up at him, curvy young bodies squirming slightly in their tiny bikini bottoms.

“You know ladies,” Chaz said, testily, when he saw that their enticements had failed to win immediate compliance, “we don’t make a lot of money. If we don’t get properly ‘thanked’, it can be hard to concentrate on our jobs. Now, you wouldn’t want that would you?”

The young beauties bit their lips, gaping up at the three towering muscular lifeguards. Their pretty eyes could not help but glance back and forth between the men’s leering faces, and the mid-sized bulges in their red trunks. Their large-breasted, naturally blonde leader licked her lips slowly, and then opened her luscious mouth in preparation to speak.

But before she could, a new coke-bottle-shaped shadow suddenly fell across the sun-blocking Beach Dawgz themselves.

“Sorry boys,” a melodious female voice purred. “But I’m afraid you’re not this beach’s chief protectors anymore!”

The three hulking lifeguards spun around. Their jaws dropped. “Ms… Ms. Americana?!” they yelped, as one.

The massively-endowed bikini-clad heroine was indeed standing right behind them, trapping the stunned Beach Dawgz between her and their recumbent blonde quarry. Her hands on her hips and a smirk on her masked faced, she looked right at home on Bikini Beach. The only concession she’d made to the environment was to remove her boots, letting her super-powered toes wiggle in the sand. She was flanked, to either side, by a pair of stern-faced female lifeguards, their arms folded beneath their own enormous red-one-piece-filling breasts.

“Don’t you have something better to do than harass young women?” the mighty heroine asked.

“Uh…” the Beach Dawgz mumbled, momentarily tongue tied. Even as the designated guardians of a beach covered from one end to the other in luscious and scantily-clad young ladies, they had trouble keeping their eyes out of the cavernous cleavage that was jiggling back and forth between them, squeezed together by the straining cups of Ms. Americana’s patriotic bra.

“We didn’t mean anything by it, Ms. Americana,” Chaz finally managed to get out, even as his gaze dropped from her breasts to her sleekly skimpy, star-spangled panties. He swallowed heavily, his head swimming with the vision of her crotch. “We… uh… we was just playing is all.”

“Well, go play somewhere else,” Ms. Americana said, firmly.

The three girls grinned at Ms. Americana’s comment. As one, they let out trilling and delighted giggles, hands clutched to their smirking lips.

Trapped between glaring Americana and her escorts in front, and those derisive female giggles from behind, the Beach Dawgz’ puffed-up courage failed them. Mumbling unintelligible apologies to Americana they turned and quickly fled, looking less like muscular lifeguards than puppies yelping away with their limp tails between their legs. As the super-cock-blocked trio beat a hasty retreat, they repeatedly glanced over their broad shoulders… both to glare in fury at the preening smug heroine, and to cop a last few lustful parting stares at her ample jiggling charms.

“Thanks, Ms. Americana,” Pamela said, after the Dawgz were long gone. She shifted her folded arms back and forth in satisfaction… making her enormous breasts, which were almost the size of Ms. Americana’s, shift and slosh gloriously within her tight red one-piece. “Those guys are real creeps.”

“They hit on us in the locker room every single day, but don’t worry - we never give them any,” Yasmine assured her, reaching back to habitually smooth her own skimpy one-piece out over her own jutting, voluptuous ass.

“I’ll have a long, long talk with their supervisor later,” Ms. Americana assured them. “But right now there are bigger fish to fry.” Strutting forward, she took up a position beside the trio of sunbathing beauties. Across the beach a veritable sea of equally beautiful and barely-covered young ladies lifted up and gaped in awe, as they for the first time saw that the noble and beautiful icon whose posters decorated their dorm rooms had now appeared in person before them. Putting her hands on her hips, the Queen of Justice spread her long and mighty legs, threw back her shoulders, and glared out defiantly toward the crashing surf.

“There’s been one too many young ladies who’ve disappeared from this beach in the last few days. Well no more! I, Miss Americana, am now personally protecting the ladies of this beach from all threats, whether human or beast!”

The three young beauties upon their towels gazed up at their self-declared champion, eyes shining with awe, and cried out with delight. Forgetting their bras lying open on their towels, they surged over and threw themselves at her feet, squealing as they gave their idols’ calves jiggling topless hugs of adoration. Other bikini-clad young ladies from all over the beach thronged over to also see their mighty protector, eyes shining with fan-girlish awe… abandoning their confused boyfriends in the process. Smiling proudly, Pamela and Yasmine strode over and took impromptu sidekick positions to either side of the adulation-bathed heroine.

“Today,” Pamela announced happily, “Ms. Americana isn’t just the Queen of Justice… she’s the Queen of Bikini Beach!” Delighted coos of agreement rose from dozens of voluptuous and scantily-clad female chests. Lifting her chin high, Ms. Americana basked in both the sun and the adoration.

‘This sure beats patrolling down dark alleys,’ she thought to herself, her smile slowly broadening. ‘Every day of super-heroine-ing should be like this…’

Meanwhile, safely ensconced back in their little tree-fort, the Beach Dawgz watched. Ms. Americana was soaking up all of the jiggling female gratitude that, rightfully, should have been directed towards their own jockstraps. But, unable to do anything else, they sulked and glared impotently…

But Ms. Americana was not the only one enjoying the worship of a half dozen young ladies that day. Far out to sea the evil mutant mastermind known as the Leviathan lounged aboard his personal palatial submarine. A huge and muscular grey-skinned beast, he lounged back upon a luxurious leather throne-cum-captain’s chair. A half-dozen naked and captive co-eds clustered about him, worshipfully serving his pleasure. Their tiny bikinis hung from hooks along the side of the green glowing cabin wall, ignored. Two, lying snuggled sweetly by his side, laid delicate kisses to his hissing gills. Two others, lying demurely upon their sides amongst the cushions to either side of his head, held a jar of caviar and a rum cocktail ready for him, respectively, cradled between their large and shapely bare breasts. Meanwhile the bustiest pair of all knelt between his webbed feet and used their gentle lapping tongues to delicately pleasure his enormous, two foot long, shark-like mutant member.

But the dark inhuman lord paid no attention to his pretty, adoring, human attendants. He gazed instead up at the screen of his periscope, whose telescopic sight was fixed upon the target-rich sands of Bikini Beach. The cross-hairs were centered directly between Ms. Americana’s massive breasts, which wobbled slightly side to side, barely contained within her bra, as she obliviously preened.

“Whoever is stealing women from this beach,” she declared, smirking unknowingly right into his distant unseen camera. “Be they man or beast - they’ve met their match! Their depredations stop now!” The gorgeous young women clustered close around her feet giggled, gazing up in awe.

“Now that’s my kind of challenge!” Leviathan said. He switched off the screen, and pushed it aside. “Bring me my fin, girls! I’m going up!”

With an adoring sigh, one of the two beauties at his feet laid one last kiss upon his namesake penis, stood up, and strutted obediently away. She returned a few minutes later, a large black fin dangling from her fingers by a pair of straps. Leviathan grinned.

A few minutes later, Ms. Americana’s reverie amongst her fangirls was suddenly broken by a scream. Bursting from the surf, a busty and barely-covered blonde hurtled bouncily up the beach towards her. “Shark! Shark!” the blonde screeched, hysterically. She threw herself at Ms. Americana’s bare feet, bikini-clad ass lifted high, whimpered, and pointed out to sea. “Shark!” she screamed, yet again.

Americana gasped. Sure enough, out in the distance, a dark fin cut through the water. All across the beach more men and women were streaming up out of the surf, lurching and screaming at the sight.

“Don’t worry, ladies!” Ms. Americana said. Picking her way out of her horde of gasping fangirls, she strode boldly down to the water. “No creature of the sea is a match for the Queen of Justice!” she announced. Striding like a colossus, she immersed herself in the shark-infested surf, letting it crash up over her rolling panty-clad hips.

As she reached deeper water, the waves ebbing about her waist and splashing over her breasts, Ms. Americana saw the fin turn and come straight at her. A dozen yards away it dipped beneath the surface. Waves crashing around her, Ms. Americana spread her legs and braced for impact. “Come on you beast!” she said, forming her fists. She was confident, with her belt to protect her flesh from harm, that she could stand toe to toe with any shark… and give it a walloping that would ensure it never came back again.

Then everything happened too fast. Suddenly a huge wave surged up into her face, immersing her in water, and with it came a grey blur. Americana gasped as a heavy weight slammed into her and she was knocked off her feet and down into the swirling water. As she flailed, blind and disoriented in the drink, something that felt like a flipper, or a hand, shot between her huge breasts and tore her straining bra straight off.

Ms. Americana’s head popped back up and she spluttered, spitting water from her mouth. Then she gaped down at her bare shoulders in shock, feeling her enormous breasts sloshing naked in the stirring salty surf. Meanwhile the crowd, which had been holding its breath nervously, immediately leapt up in cheers up and down the beach.

“Are you alright?!” the two buxom lifeguards squealed. They leapt up and down happily, bodies bouncing in their straining one-pieces… but staying just beyond the reach of the crashing surf.

“Yes!” Americana called back. Turning to face the shore, she made sure to keep shoulders carefully below the rolling waves as she raised a mighty arm and waved reassuringly. “I’m just fine! Don’t worry – this creature is nothing for Ms. Americana!”

Suddenly, a gasp rose from the beach. Women raised their hands to their mouths in shock, while men pointed, gaped, and laughed. Whirling round to see what they were pointing at, Ms. Americana’s yes went as the fin cut through the water twenty feet behind her… her bra caught upon its tip, each huge cup fluttering to either side like a flag.

“Oh!” Ms. Americana gasped. Shocked, she instinctively shot up onto her feet, fists rising… and in doing so caused both of her massive naked jugs to burst forth from the water and sway, dripping and exposed, before the stunned crowd. Unable to help themselves, men up and down the beach laughed out with delight. The Beach Dawgs in particular doubled over on their little lookout railing, pointing and whooping ribaldly. Whipping back into their hut, Chaz darted back out holding a top of the line camera with a huge telephoto lens, cradled it against the railing, and began to gleefully snap picture after picture of the soaked, shocked, and humiliatingly topless super-heroine.

Meanwhile, Ms. Americana gaped down in shock at her exposed rack, jiggling above the sloshing sea. The laughter washing around her made her face turn red. Her head whipped around, and gave the retreating shark fin a dark, furious glare. The fin wobbled back and forth above the waves as it turned out to sea, making her bra flutter back and forth, almost as if taunting her with it.

“Mindless beast or no… I’ll… I’ll get you for this!” she cried. Lunging down into the water, she set out in pursuit with smooth, sure, and superhumanly powerful strokes.

When she had gone about a hundred meters further out to sea, Ms. Americana’s head burst up for breath only to find that the fin had vanished. Gasping, she jerked back and tread water. Craning her lovely head and scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of her elusive attacker.

But unbeknownst to her, he was already beneath her. The grey Leviathan lounged back upon the sand directly beneath her, his gills working lazily and his mutant eyes seeing clearly. Her bra still dangled in the currents from the fin strapped to his head. Directly above his face, Ms. Americana’s voluptuous and scantily-clad ass wiggled rhythmically back and forth, oblivious to her observer as her thighs scissored rhythmically open and shut. Each time they opened she unknowingly gave her assailant a perfect view of her delicate mound, bulging slightly through her tight skimpy bikini panties.

Then, as easily as if he were grabbing a snack off the shelf the villain reached up and, timing his attack to the second, suddenly slid two fingers into the back of Ms. Americana’s defenseless little panties. Ms. Americana’s head gasped in shock upon the surface. But before she could react, her precious bottoms had been pulled out from her ass and yanked straight down her mighty down-thrusting legs to her ankles.

Americana squealed… or started to. The humiliating binding round her ankles prevented her from making another stroke, and even as her mouth dropped open it dipped beneath the waves, and water poured in to choke her nascent cry. Moments later a wave smashed into her. Immersed in the tumbling water and sent hurtling head-over-heels back up the beach, Ms. Americana could only scream silently and impotently as she felt her skimpy bottoms slip right off her flailing ankles and vanish into the briny deep.

The big wave sent the buxom heroine hurtling back up onto the beach and receded, depositing her creamy busty curves face-down upon it like a beached whale. Half-drowned, she spent a moment buried in the sand and then, with a groan, slowly stirred, and rose up on her hands and knees. Her face flew back, drenched hair flashing, and she gaped up in shock… to find herself surrounded by pointing, laughing men.

Unable to restrain themselves, even as their girlfriends gaped in shock just beside them, every last man on Bikini Beach pointed and crowed in delight at the sight of the haughty, preening heroine… now kneeling completely naked and bedraggled in the surf before them. Americana’s jaw dropped, as a wave of catcalls and ribald whistles whipped down around her squirming naked flesh. “You… you bastards!” she hissed. Rising up to kneel naked in the frothing surf, looking like a porn star in search of her cameraman, she cast her eyes desperately up and down the beach for any sign of her bra or panties.

“Looking for something?” a deep voice behind her suddenly rumbled.

Americana gasped. Whirling round awkwardly, she tumbled slightly and in moments she found herself lying upon her side, hands buried in the surf and torso lifted up like a mermaid’s… and gaping up at a huge grey figure that loomed before her from the sea. He wore a big black fin strapped to his head, a huge leering grin on his half-human face… and nothing else. He had her little stolen panties dangling from a single clawed finger, and as she watched, gaping in shock, he twirled them round and round tauntingly before her.

“Yes!” Americana snarled.

Recovering herself, she shot to her feet, spread her legs, and adopted a defiant stance before the intruder. She put her hands on her hips… despite the fact that they were now clad in only her belt. That, in fact, that was the only scrap of covering for her entire voluptuous body in between her mask and her surf-submerged ankles.

“Who are you, you… you bikini-stealing creep?!” she demanded, hotly.

“I am Leviathan,” he answered.

Neither Ms. Americana, nor any other man or woman had the beach, had for a second to ask why. Wearing neither trunk nor trousers, the grey-skinned villain’s mammoth, sleek, vaguely shark-shaped member hung so low its tip swirled in the surf… despite the fact the water never rose above his knees. Even as their champion confronted the villain every young woman on Bikini Beach, from co-eds to lifeguards, let their jaws drop as they gaped at the intruder’s member in awe. The sight also had a powerful effect on the men. The catcalls and screams slowly died into stunned gurgles of outmatched shock. The swollen protrusions that had appeared in their trunks at the sight of the naked super-heroine shriveled to nothingness at the sight of such a superior competitor… and, as they turned their heads in shock, at the sight of the captivating effect said competitor was having upon their wide-eyed sweethearts and girlfriends.

But Ms. Americana was in no state to notice the death of their laughter, or the gurgling dismay that followed. She too, briefly, could not help but give the Leviathan’s namesake a brief, shocked, open-mouthed stare. But then, recovering, she lifted her eyes back up and, her lips twisting, gave his smug face a dark and furious glare.

“Give those back, you watery pervert!” she demanded, lifting one hand from her moist hip to point towards her captured panties.

“If you want them, come and take them,” he said.

“Deal!” she cried.

With a mighty leap and a cry of fury, the outraged heroine charged forward back into the surf. Each stride required her to leap high in the water, making huge gouts of water spray up around her curvy thighs as they plunged back down, and making her huge breasts bounce dramatically over the surging waves. Watching her come, the Leviathan smirked, and enjoyed the show. Splashing down pneumatically just a foot away from him, the mighty heroine snarled and darted one hand up to try to snatch back her panties. But she was not quite fast enough. With a laugh like a fratboy teasing a furious sorority slut with her stolen bikini, he darted it back up over his head, keeping it out of her reach.

“Stop that, creep!” Ms. Americana cried. And, with a mighty surge of her thighs, she leaped up to try to grab them. Her fingers came within an inch of their delicate dangling prize, but fell short. Moments later, gasping in shock, the mighty heroine slammed breast-first into her laughing foe’s chest. Her momentum sent both of them toppling over. With a massive splash as if a depth charged had gone off their bodies plunged into the sea and vanished beneath a towering spout of water.

For several seconds the gaping audience stretched all along Bikini Beach could only watch breathlessly as the sea roiled and churned before them. It was as if two great and ancient sea serpents were locked in struggle beneath their very waves. From the foamy white melee a grey head briefly rose, laughing, before a bright-red glove wrapped round its neck and yanked it back down. Moments later Ms. Americana’s gorgeous raven-haired head briefly popped up above the surface, lips snarling and hands wrapped tight around something beneath her… and then also vanished back into the sea. But mostly, all that could be seen were continuous explosions of spray, mist, and foam.

Then a wave crashed into the two opponents and drove them back up onto the beach. Amidst its surging foam two struggling foes emerged halfway from the surf, still immersed from the waist down. Their hands were wrapped around each other, struggling for all they were worth. Ms. Americana’s head was driven back against the dark wet sand, and she groaned, gritting her teeth with effort as she fought back desperately.

“You.. you fiend!” she gasped up at Leviathan. “You… you may think you have me where you want me… but I shall prevail!”

“That’s it, Ms. Americana!” Pamela cried out with glee, bouncing like a cheerleader from the safety of the shore. “Lick him good!”

With a roll and splash the two struggling figures vanished back into the receding wave and were carried back out into the sea, hiding them once more beneath the roiling foam. Then another crashing wave sent them surging back up again, this time depositing Leviathan on his back with Americana on top. Americana gripped his hands in hers, her muscles trembling as she forced them back into the shallow swirling surf. Amidst her struggles, her huge wet breasts scrubbed rhythmically across his chest, almost as if they were trying to scrub it free of sand.

“Goddess!” she groaned, head lifting back despite herself from his grinning face to gasp with effort. “You’re… you’re powerful and… big…” she gasped, mouth trembling, eyes closed. “But I’ll show you yet that I can outlast you!”

“C’mon, Ms. Americana keep it up!” Yasmine squealed, jumping bouncily beside her fellow busty lifeguard. “You can take anything he gives you!”

With a scream, Ms. Americana jerked back and the two plunged once again back into the sea. They vanished again for a few seconds, then burst back up further out. Ms. Americana had her hands wrapped tight around his throat. Above her clenched trembling fingers he just smiled indulgently, his own hand gently cupping the back of her gorgeous sopping head. “Now you see!” Ms. Americana gasped, breathlessly, and licked her salty lips. “No matter how deep you go… I’ve got you right where I want you…”

“That’s it!” both lifeguards screamed ecstatically. “Take him down! Take him for all he’s worth!”

Then the first of a huge set of massive waves crashed into the beach, smashing into the clenched super-pair. Squealing, buxom young beauties darted back as the wave sent the two struggling super-combatants sliding up farther onto the beach than ever before. The wave washed back out, leaving the two mighty champions beached high up on the sand, directly in front of the assembled bikini-clad throng.

And as it receded a slow, stunned, collective gasp rose from countless luscious, gaping pairs of female lips.

“Oh my god…” Pamela whispered, her eyes going wide.

“It… it can’t be…” Yasmine gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.

For as the sudsy white foam slid back away, it revealed their voluptuous champion locked in her massive challenger’s arms, her thighs wrapped around him… and his massive dick shuttling brutally, continuously, and mercilessly in and out of her gaping and defenseless pussy. Americana wiggled and squirmed like a flopping fish upon the beach as her foe mercilessly fucked her. Her gorgeous head shivered, turning and pressing side-on-into the sand as her snarling lips trembled… and then slackened in a helpless gasp of passion. Her gloved hands, clenched in his and pressed into the sand by his mighty arms, still struggled as she was fucked… but her sleek and mighty legs seemed to do little but curl and caress delicately around his triumphantly pumping hips.

“Oh! Oh, by the Goddess!” Americana cried, in exactly the same tone as all her declarations while struggling in the surf. Her head rolled involuntarily on the sand. “So… so big!” she gasped. Shuddering, she tilted her head back and took in a helpless ragged gasp. “So… oh Goddess you go so DEEP!” she moaned, her buxom hips quivering under his latest brutal thrust.

“I certainly do, slut!” Leviathan laughed. And as if to demonstrate, he gave her three long slow thrusts, each one pulling up all the way to his shark-like tip, and then plunging in all the way to his firehose-thick hilt. Each stroke sent Americana’s body into helpless squirms of deeply penetrated passion. On the third, he thrust deep and held, pressing hard… and with a defeated moan Ms. Americana’s mighty arms flopped back to lie limp upon the beach, her lips dropped open to moan… and her ultra-powerful legs spread wide, her toes curling with pleasure.

“Harder!” her proud lips whispered at last, their succulent pink petals quivering with awe. “Please… fuck me harder!”

The Leviathan laughed, seized his conquered foe by her shoulders, and transitioned instantly from slow persuasion to brutally triumphant rutting upon the body of his surrendered rival. Wham, wham, wham, wham his massive penis slammed like a steel piston inside her. Then he drew back, held briefly as he heard the rushing water behind him, and then slammed with all his force… enveloping himself to the hilt in tight warm Ameri-pussy just as a flood of cold salty foam enveloped their entwined bodies.

“Oh! Great JUSTICE!!!” Ms. Americana moaned, head slamming back into the sand as her eyes went wide in awe. As the wave crashed down around her, a far more furious and devastating wave surged up inside her. Amid the splashing white spray her legs lifted high into the air, spread wide to either side of her brutally thrusting conqueror, and wiggled pathetically with defeat as she climaxed. The receding water found her wrapping her arms and legs around her partner, clinging tight to him as if seeking something to hold amongst a storm of surf and schlong. Laughing, he just thrust harder, and easily drove her into a second, a third, a fourth – as each new wave came so did she. Ms. Americana lost track of the number of waves and the number of her climaxes, as the moaning super-heroine descended into a continuous delirium of climax and conquest. It was like being knocked down by wave after wave, never able to find her feet, mind struggling to keep up… only instead the mighty waves were not of water but of her mortal enemy’s tremendous and predator-shaped penis.

“Congratulations, Ms. Americana,” he leered into her face, his body rutting upon her glorious buxom curves as the sea ebbed away round her flanks. “You’re officially the best surf board I’ve ever ridden!”

“You… you BEAST!” Americana cried. But her mighty gloved hands, though still empowered by her belt, could only cling to her attacker’s scaly flesh and caress his rutting muscular body in awe. Lying beneath him, she gaped up into his face in outrage… even as shudder after helpless shudder of pleasure spasmed through her super-humanly buxom body.

“That I am, land bitch, that I am,” the aquatic villain sneered… slamming his mammoth member deep inside her with each syllable. “But I grow bored of allowing you even a pittance of defiance. So… let’s finish this!”

So saying, he wrapped his clawed hands tight around her shoulders and, as the largest wave yet crashed violently all around him, he shoved his mighty body upwards, slamming his gargantuan penis deeper and harder inside her helpless pussy than it ever had before.

“Oh, GODDESS!!!” Ms. Americana screamed. Even the tiniest bit of hatred or resistance flying from her beautiful face, her head smashed backwards and trembled in awe. Her eyes, spread almost as wide as her devastatingly overloaded cunt, gazed out upside-down at a sea of bikini-clad beauties gaping at her in disbelieving horror, while above her lost and glassy gaze, her full red lips hung open and quivered in shock. The huge penis ground deep inside her and then, as another wave rushed in, pulled out and slammed in even harder. “Oh, GODDESSS!!!!” Ms. Americana screamed. Her long luscious legs, quivering amidst the crashing surf, lifted high and wiggled uselessly in the air as she surrendered to his tremendous plowing of her furrow. The waves rolled back, as did his penis, until only her buxom hips were awash in surf and only his mammoth bloated tip remained in her tight and massively over-stretched cunt. Then, with utter devastation, both slammed back in yet again and crashed through her… hard.

“Oh, Great Justice!!! I GIVE IN!!!” Ms. Americana screamed. Legs lifted high and shaking uncontrollably, wide and uselessly spread to either side of his triumphant body, Ms. Americana’s hands clawed desperately at the sand as she came and came. His huge penis slammed inside her mercilessly, driving her to higher and higher peaks of mind-melting climax with each and every motion. “You win!” she screamed, as his inhuman cock conquered her super-human pussy. “I’m yours, you beast. I’m yours. I’m YOUUUURSSS!!!”

With one last powerful thrust the evil villain slammed his sleek two-foot shaft deep inside Ms. Americana and, groaning with pleasure, as spray splashed all around him, sent a massive gout of semen shooting all the way down his massive barrel to blast like a shotgun out into her womb. Ms. Americana shook, legs quivering high above the surf, as he filled her. So thoroughly had his massive member filled her that in no time spurts and gouts of semen were exploding out from the absurdly over-stretched lips of her pussy, dribbling down her ass to mix with the sloshing receding surf.

As swiftly as it had come, the set of massive surf waves died down. Slowly, the waters washed back out. They seemed to take every ounce of Ms. Americana’s defiance and willpower with them. Gaping in awe at the sky, Ms. Americana breathed softly as the waters slowly rededed… and his limpening penis did likewise. He released her contemptuously, and with a thump and splash Ms. Americana collapsed to the sand at his feet. Her long legs splashed down and quivered, arched halfway out of the surf, still spread wide to either side of his triumphantly towering body. Between her mighty spread thighs, her ravaged pussy gaped wide open… globs and tendrils of cum oozing continuously from it to mix with the swirling pool of surf that collected at the base of her ass.

Breathing hard, the giant mutant stood over his buxom fallen foe and looked out across the beach. A sea of aghast faces stared back at him, from hordes of dumb-struck bikini babes, to the two stunned female lifeguards who quivered close at hand in their skimpy one-pieces, to the Beach Dawgz, who huddled in their lookout stand with their jaws practically on the railing.

For several seconds the only sound that came was the soft crash of surf, as the villain and his vast scantily-clad audience stared at one another.

“Well?” he asked, at last. Lifting up both clawed, webbed hands, he gave the gaping crowd a leering smirk. “I just fucked your Queen. Any of you sluts or douchebags gonna do anything about it?”

Unsurprisingly, it was Pamela and Yasmine who recovered first. Breathing deep, the two busty lifeguards turned their heads and shared a brief, but communicative, glance. Nodding to one another they turned their faces back forwards and, chins lifting proudly, brought their hands up to perch upon their buxom red-clad hips, to mirror their would be mentor’s earlier stance.

“Yes!” Pamela said.

“We have something to say about it,” Yasmine said.

Chins up and gorgeous faces set into twin glares, the huge-breasted life-guards marched forwards side by side to confront the fishy intruder.

“You go girls!” one Beach Dawg called out half-heartedly, as he watched them advance. Neither he nor either of his comrades seemed at all eager to come out from behind the sheltering railing of their watch station. Though Chaz could not help but snap picture after picture with his camera, his face wide and agape as it stared into the shivering view-finder.

Leviathan smirked as he watched the two life-guards approach. Soon they stood side by side, their feet flanking Ms. Americana’s gasping head, and, folding their arms beneath their titanic breasts, glared up at him in fury.

“And what do you have to say, ladies?” the villain asked.

“Ms. Americana is our champion!” Pamela declared up at him, hotly.

“You can’t do that to her,” Yasmine said, her gorgeous face glaring.

Simultaneously, both ladies suddenly unfolded their arms from beneath their breasts and, reaching up, hooked their thumbs under the straining straps of their sleek one-piece suits.

“Unless you do it to us, too!” they both said.

Lying beneath them in the sand, Ms. Americana gaped up in shock as she watched her allies’ hands pull up the straps of their suits and yank them down their waists. Two pairs of tremendous shapely breasts, nearly as vast and flawless as Ms. Americana’s, spilled out to jiggle naked and delicately before the appreciatively leering villain. “What are you doing?!” the heroine gasped.

“Worshipping a new champion,” they said to her, bending down to smirk into her face… as their hands rose up again towards their buxom scantily-clad hips.

For once Ms. Americana and her male rivals were on the same page. “What are you doing?” the Beach Dawgz yelped down from their little tree-fort, as their two female counterparts bent low before the inhuman invader and his massive dick. The two female lifeguards said not one word in response… just moved their hands very slowly, letting the Dawgz watch, as they slid their skimpy red costumes up over their voluptuous hips and slowly dropped them down their sleek and powerful thighs. As they deposited their suits around their feet the two lifeguards squirmed, their dripping succulent pussies wiggling between their thighs, exposed before every gaping man on the beach – succulent pussies the shocked male lifeguards had spent every day of their supposed work desperately trying to bang.

But if the two buxom lifeguards pretended to ignore their men, Leviathan did not.

“You gonna try and do something about this, wimps?” he said, pointing down at the pair of round female lifeguard asses wiggling before him and smirking.

But he didn’t just address the male lifeguards – but every man on bikini beach simultaneously. For Pamela and Yasmine had merely broken the floodgates. One by one, beauty after beauty broke out of her gaping boyfriend’s arms. Others rose up suddenly from their mutual towel, giving his bewildered face a last look at her ass as it strutted slowly, as if mesmerized, down to the water. In a growing swarm they stumbled down to the water, awed faces shifting back and forth between their fallen cum-smothered champion and the massive member that still swayed rock-hard and triumphant over her. Then, standing in a growing throng amidst the surf, the voluptuous young beauties of Bikini Beach bent down one by one and paid their new lord homage… by pulling one pair after another of skimpy colorful panties down across their uplifted, silky round asses.

A slow groan of dismay rose from the men of Bikini Beach, as they watched, frozen in shock, their women desert en masse to an inhuman but far superior, and arrogantly smirking, stud.

“Well?” the Leviathan asked, raising an eyebrow as he leered up at the gaping men. “What about it punks?”

It was the Beach Dawgz who broke first. Moaning, holding their heads to protect it from the pummeling their egos had taken, they turned and fled, whimpering, up the beach. Inside their little trunks their already outmatched wieners shriveled up to almost nothing as they fled. One by one, crying out in humiliation but unable to face up to the clearly superior villain, the other men of Bikini Beach did likewise. Like in an old-school battle panic was infection, and soon even the brave succumbed. It became a rout. A few of the bigger, more muscled boyfriends lingered, desperate to intervene. But knowing that they could not possibly stand up to Ms. Americana, let alone her conqueror, one by one their courage fled them too. Turning, they too moaned and ran away.

The women of Bikini Beach paid their fleeing menfolk not the slightest concern. They had eyes only for their new god as they sank to their knees, naked amidst the waves… and laid their skimpy bikinis into the surf around his feet. Ms. Americana gasped in shock as she soon felt dozens of pairs of bikini bras and panties tickling at her sides as they swirled around her in the surf.

“Excellent, ladies,” the Leviathan purred. “You’ve made the right choice.” Lifting up a small dongle that hung on a cord around his neck, he pressed a button. The naked, kneeling beauties of Bikini Beach gasped in awe as, off shore his submarine burst from the waves and moved automatically in towards shore. It was long, sleek, and shark-like. In fact, it was shaped almost exactly like his penis. Grounding itself lightly upon the sands, a wide hatch opened on its prow and six naked, smiling co-eds emerged… holding twine and cable ties in their hands.

Still lying exhausted on her back, Ms. Americana gaped up at the new arrivals in shock. They were exactly the six girls whose disappearance had summoned her. She moaned. But, mind reeling with the irony, and pussy aching with the furious power of the orgasms he had inflicted on her, she could bring herself to make no other intervention.

The naked ladies of bikini beach made no move to resist as the Leviathan’s servants efficiently bound their hands behind their backs and looped them together with twine. Even huge-breasted Pamela and beautiful Yasmine dutifully crossed their hands behind their buxom asses and gasped in soft, eager awe as their jiggling curves were bound and roped together. The returned co-eds worked in pairs, and soon three lines of docilely waiting, beautiful captives stretched down the beach. Pamela’s spectacular sloshing breasts formed the awe-inspiring head of one column, Yasmine’s naked wigging curves the lead of another. A length of twine hung down from the front co-ed of the center column… waiting for one last obvious leader.

“Get the fuck up slut,” Leviathan growled, and reaching down seized Ms. Americana by her hair.

“Oh! Please! No!” the super-heroine moaned as she was dragged to her feet. Such was the utter devastation his huge penis had wreaked upon her that her buxom hips were able to do nothing but wiggle and shake precariously as they were forced to rise back up before him. Before she could recover in any other way, with contemptuous ease, Leviathan seized and yanked away her belt. “NO!” Ms. Americana moaned as, with crackles of electricity, her mighty powers vanished from her. Contemptuously, the mighty villain tossed it far, far out to sea, and it instantly vanished beneath the waves. But Americana had no time to contemplate the loss. Moments later her hands were seized by a pair of giggling co-eds – the very co-eds she had come to save – and dragged behind her back. Craning her head, the gorgeous heroine gasped in horror but could not bring herself to resist as her hands were bound with ties, and her jiggling curves shoved and tied into place as the most impressive figurehead of any of the three columns of captives.

“Your pleasure awaits, Ladies,” the Leviathan said. Stepping to one side, he gestured his horde of mostly voluntary captives up towards the waiting entrance of his submarine.

“You first,” Pamela said to Americana from one side.

“Yeah, c’mon, get in gear,” Yasmine whined from the other, squirming. “We want to get up in there and get fucked!”

A chorus of eager agreement rose from dozens of beautiful young voices behind and all around her.

Ms. Americana gaped at the waiting entrance to her adversary’s undersea lair with horror. Then, blushing deeply, she dropped her head and moaned. Slowly, buxom hips trembling, one of her long and mighty legs took a slow and shaky step forward. Then another. The Leviathan looked on, gloating with pleasure, as his luscious, voluptuous adversary voluntarily marched up and into his submarine, trailed by a dozen gorgeous naked co-eds. Once Americana’s column had boarded, Pamela’s and Yasmine’s eagerly herded in in their jiggling wake.

By the time the authorities arrived at Bikini Beach it was bare. The only thing the stunned investigators found was a sea of tiny bikinis left swirling and mixing in the surf. But for months afterwards, the hydrophones at the Delta U marine biology building echoed with the orgasmic moans of one co-ed after another being brutally and enthusiastically conquered… punctuated every once in a while by the deeper but unmistakable sound of the Queen of Justice once more begging her foe to fuck her harder.

SUMMARY: Ms. Americana goes out onto a beach to protect it after a wave of co-ed disappearances. From a hidden submarine offshore an aquatic villain observes her challenge on his periscope and, strapping on a fin, swims out to meet it. The sight of the ‘shark’ causes panic to sweep the beach and Americana, confident in the invincibility of her belt, wades out to drive it off. Taking advantage of her relative weakness in the water the villain quickly strips Ms. Americana of her costume and deposits her naked back on the beach, then stands in the surf taunting her with her panties. Enraged, Americana charges back in and slams him down into the surf. For a time they thrash and crash about in the water as the crowds cheer her on. Then, washed back ashore, her fans gape in horror as they discover that she is not fighting but getting fucked. The villain fucks her into submission with such skill and power that in the end the men run in humiliated shame and the women stumble down to the shore and, stripping off their bikinis, offer themselves to him. Ms. Americana and those she came to protect are led, naked and in chains, into his submarine, never to be seen again… though their loud moans of pleasure will be picked up by sonar for months to come.