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Sabrina Singh stepped onto the dais, adjusting the microphone before she opened the briefing docket for the day.
Behind her was the impressive shield of the Pentagon, depicting the white, five-sided building on a blue field - one of the most dramatic images of projected power in the world.But she couldn't think too long about the juxtaposition of a beautiful Indian-American woman against the background of U.S. military might, because here came the questions, and due to the hot wars in both Israel and the Ukraine, they were some doozies.
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Sabrina smiled. She was in her element - these tough questions were par for the course for a woman who had cut her teeth in local State Senate races back in the left-leaning areas of the state of Oregon. She knew how to give a pat, ambiguous answer, and yet she also retained the practicality of her father Mohinder, who had built an empire back West of bodegas and convenience stores, the profit from which had sent her to college and eventually to the Democrat political machine in Washington D.C., its diversity initiative hungry for smart brown bodies with excellent publicity skills.
But with her background in progressive politics and social justice, what she hadn't expected was a recruitment push by the military forces at the Pentagon looking to diversify their top brass. Apparently, they had seen Sabrina's history of graceful athletic combat, excelling in martial arts such as judo and tae kwan do in her Division II university category, as a palpable asset to the Army, and it didn't hurt that she was easy on the eyes, either. According to General Franken, at least, who had personally sought her out, she would be an excellent representative of the newly evolved, culturally sensitive U.S. Army.
And so she was. But this was no typical sordid saga of failing upwards - Sabrina was an achiever. She moved quickly up the ranks of the institution, impressing her superiors with her dedication and strategic intelligence, until one day, a scientist came calling, inviting her to visit the mysterious lab in the basement of the Pentagon, known to very few outsiders and internally referred to simply as The Vault. Within minutes, she had met the head of the lab, a brilliant researcher named Dr. Mike Smith, and it quickly became obvious that he was highly attracted to her.
That didn't stop Sabrina, however, from accepting the lab's offer to enter her into a top-secret super-soldier program, with its purpose being to increase the level of combat skill a hundredfold by introducing genetic components which augmented aspects of the human body like strength, speed and stamina. While Dr. Smith monitored her progress over a regimen of several weeks of injections, Sabrina had gradually acquired many of the superhuman traits which the program had set out to create many years ago in the 1970s when it was first created, and several more abilities about which the founders of the project hadn't even dared to consider. After fifty-two previously documented failures to produce results, she was successful as the 53rd, and thus became listed in the computer files as Experiment 53, or for short, X-53.
However, during the whole time Sabrina was participating in the experiments, honing her body to perfection on the Pentagon training machines while gaining the ability to control her physique almost at will, she was also indubitably on the fast track to public success. Within a few years, she had been recommended for the position of deputy press secretary for the Pentagon, and had been called to the podium numerous times in the past few months to interact with the press on issues ranging from the China/Taiwan dynamic to America's posture at its southern border with Mexico on dealing with the murderous cartels.
So, after numerous questions from the assembled press junket about the growing role of the U.S. Armed Forces in the Israel-Hamas conflagration, Sabrina fielded one final query from the always annoying Seth Goldstein at The Intercept about why the U.S. couldn't help Israel target the Hezbollah missile batteries in southern Lebanon. She didn't want to get into that whole undemocratic "triune" form of government that Lebanon had, essentially dividing the country amongst three warring religious factions, and how Iran basically controlled the southern third of Lebanon via its proxy government, so attacking that area directly could provoke a direct response from IRGC.
But luckily, she didn't have to, as she had a pre-packaged answer for that one, too. And anyway, at that moment, her wristwatch buzzed, indicating a direct call from the General. She knew quite well that cutting the conference short would displease the press folks, many of whom wanted to see her stand at the dais for as long as possible, since almost all of the men, (and quite a few of the women) had a crush on her and probably fantasized about her - she'd even seen some Sabrina Singh fan fiction on a few geek fetish websites. She was completely aware that one of the reasons that the Army chose her for this position was her undeniable beauty (Psaki and KJP, eat your hearts out!) but she was mindful of always leaving them wanting more.
She put her hand up to silence the twittering throng. "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen and non-binaries, I'll have to cut this one a bit short. There's an emergency which needs my immediate attention. I'll have another update for you later in the week, OK?"
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And they were. After changing quickly into a comfortable dress, Sabrina took the Zoom call from the general in the privacy of her office, and the situation was indeed serious. "Sabrina, I'm not mincing any words about this," Franken entreated her online. "This conflagration has become a tinderbox, and we need to make sure it doesn't cause World War III by bringing in any more major players. We need you to help Israel stop Hamas in Gaza, and do it with minimum casualties. We're confident that Lebanon and the street mobs will calm down if you do so. Instructions regarding the enemy and the location of your current liaison with the IDF have been sent to your classified email account."
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Over time, her feats had been claimed not only by every possible ethnicity from India, but also by public acclaim from Pakistan, from Sri Lanka, and from Bangladesh by well over a billion people who had no real idea whether she was Hindu, Buddhist or Muslim, or whether she was a native of the region or a Desi-American, and she offered them no clues, either. Best to leave her identity ambiguous and her affiliations unclaimed.
And except for a few extreme racist idiots whom she was never going to please anyway, the Western press and social media also offered their adulation, giving her sudden public appearances an almost boilerplate level of positive spin. Sure, there was a radical imam or a far-leftist college professor here and there labeling her an "infidel whore" or a "colonizer puppet", but to most admirers in the Anglo, Franco, Hispano and Luso spheres (those who speak English, French, Spanish or Portuguese), her skin color simply didn't matter, because a sizeable number of the men in the world (and, from the lesbian fanfic she'd seen, a lot of the women) went to bed each night stroking themselves while thinking of her beautiful face and her gorgeous muscular body. She had actually moved the Overton window worldwide, inspiring an interest in fitness and bodybuilding. Women wanted to be her, and men wanted to impress those women, that much was clear.
With the profits split between her and the Defense Department, she had sold literally thousands of posters which the strapping young college boys and the cadets at West Point were only too eager to plaster on their dorm room walls. The polls had proven it: she had an approval of well over 95%, twice that of either Biden or Trump, and that fact gave her a large amount of job security.
It also gave her extreme sexual confidence, an unintended side effect of the injections she had been taking under Dr. Smith's supervision, which gave her a turn-on whenever she went into battle, causing her to immediately seek certain needs afterwards. Even while communicating with the general, the thought of strenuous action in the Middle East made her excited enough that her hand almost involuntarily moved under her blue dress to gently stroke her clit beneath her lace panties.
In a short while, she would be crunching missile launchers like they were accordions, punching through thick tunnel walls like they were tissue paper, and tossing around enemy combatants like ragdolls, all the while looking incredibly sexy and powerful. And the cowardly Islamist prudes of Hamas would hate her just for that alone - they would condemn her as a disgusting harlot, a female tool of the imperialist Dar Al-Harb, as haram and takfiri as she could possibly be, far out of her place in the Quranic order of things for the upcoming Caliphate. Such fanatical derision turned her on even more - it felt very sexy to be a powerful superheroine hated by a despicable enemy.
But she had to stop herself from getting off, or the General would see her aroused facial expression on the Zoom call, and she'd become just another Jeffrey Toobin on the ash heap of cancellation history. "Yes, sir, General, sir," she replied with the professional restraint of a military veteran. "Just let me make my usual trip to The Vault for my power upgrade, and I'll be in the air in less than an hour. We'll have this ground war licked in no time, sir!"
"Excellent, Singh, we're counting on you," the General briefly responded, then disappeared from the screen. Sabrina rose from her desk chair, locked the door to her office and strode to the nearby elevator. Bringing her eyes close enough to the facial recognition screen, she received security confirmation from the scanner for access to the sub-basements, and began her descent ten floors down into the deep bowels of the Pentagon where the top-secret research was being conducted.
After a few minutes, the elevator doors opened directly into an airlock, which shut behind her. She heard an audible hiss as the decontaminant gas was released into the small airlock chamber, and saw flashing lights as a series of detection lasers scanned her form beneath her blue dress. Once the automatic system had been satisfied that she was devoid of biological or nanotech weapons, the doors at the far end of the airlock slid open silently, and she stepped into the laboratory also known as The Vault.
As soon as she stepped off the elevator, she noticed a handsome man in a lab coat running at her at top speed. Dr. Smith, the head of The Vault project, picked her up in his strong manly arms and spun her around several times, planting kisses on both of her cheeks. He was obviously very happy to see her. Then he put her down and gazed happily into her wide brown eyes.
"Sabrina, babe!" he exclaimed, beaming with affection, as she gently stroked the three-day stubble on his face. "I knew as soon as I got the call from the general that this is going to be very serious. This isn't like the times you pulled short covert stints in the Middle East, working almost anonymously behind the scenes to smash small terrorist cells. You'll be going up against a whole army here - one that's a proxy of Iran itself, with lots of dangerous weaponry. I mean, I know that nothing short of a nuke could probably harm you, but still...what if they actually have one of those? I'm so worried about you!"
"Oh, Mike, that's so sweet..." Sabrina cooed, holding him tightly for a long, full kiss on the lips. "Mwah! But hey, you know I'm not going to let anything bad happen over there. I'll take whatever directives the IDF tells me to clear the way for a ground invasion which involves as few Israeli casualties as possible. Our loyalties lie with the civilized nations, my love, and certainly not with the savages beheading children and raping women. In fact, I'd really like to meet the brave and beautiful girls of the Caracal Battalion and help make it easier for them to get a few lethal shots in against the brutal enemy."
"Agreed, Sabrina," nodded Mike, handing her a syringe filled with a blue glowing liquid. "But let's get to work here - time is of the essence. You go ahead and inject this new dose of the growth formula into your arm muscle, and just let me know when you're physically prepared to receive the, uh, triggering catalyst for the transformation. OK?"
"Sure, Mike," Sabrina responded, positioning the needle carefully and plunging it deep into her flesh. The subdermal onset of pleasure was almost immediate, as the serum was designed to disseminate rapidly through her circulatory system. She could already feel a trickle of moisture beginning to seep from beneath her dress, as the chemicals automatically prepared epigenetic receptors in her entire cellular structure.
"Ooooohhhhh!" she grimaced with newly activated arousal. "That was quick...almost too fast to be prepared for it! I can already feel the power flowing through my veins, the fire rushing through my nerves, flaring up my libido like lightning! I like this new batch of serum - this level of readiness is simply astounding. I'm sexually receptive to you right now, Mike. Please put it in me...please!"
Sabrina wasted no time unzipping her blue dress and removing her bra. She stood naked and exposed in the middle of the lab with nothing on but a small bikini bottom. Mike gasped with admiration as he once again beheld the large, round breasts and her voluptuous, hourglass shape that he desired so much. Her body had been sculpted and developed genetically to be the optimal fertile container for a normal human female after months of physically altering injections with the formula. It was no surprise that her press conferences were so well attended by the male reporters.
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"Mike," the general had said, "I know this sounds awkward, but we're talking about national security here. She can't be allowed to access these immense powers randomly and without careful supervision, or she could turn against us in a fit of pique and cause great harm to this country. You must design a catalyst to turn on and off her growth serum which only you can control, under my command, of course. Or the situation with a rogue superhuman could become very dangerous. I'll let you decide what that catalyst is going to consist of, OK? Some kind of pill, or a timed exposure to a ray, or even a unique trigger phrase...anything that only The Vault will able to access..."
And so, Mike had created exactly what the General had asked for - a transformation trigger for Sabrina that only he could control. But his growing desire for her as she breezed through the experimental trials bloomed into honest love for an amazing woman. And when she clearly indicated that she would return his affection, his confidence hit the moon, and he outright explained to her what the General wanted, leaving no details out. Surprisingly, she had readily agreed to the trigger concept, which truly bonded the two of them into a superheroic team, and he was gratified by her trust and mutual support.
Removing his lab coat and his white shirt with her soft brown hands, Sabrina could now behold Mike's hairy chest, covered with a forest of blonde curls, which she so loved to kiss and fondle when they were lying in bed on one of their rare days off from the government grind. He pulled down his khakis, and Sabrina grinned to see the ultimate prize which would imbue her with power. Spurred on by the sight of her gorgeous brown body, Mike's ten-inch cock was fully erect and prepared to enter her warm vagina. Her sexual organ was fully engorged with blood already carrying the lust-inducing growth serum.
She bent down and kissed the tip of his penis enticingly, watching with thinly disguised glee as the pre-cum pooled out of his urinary meatus, aka the dick hole. His genes were what she needed! Sabrina pushed her bikini thong to one side, lovingly guiding his hard member deep inside her pussy, and then the thrusting began in earnest.
She held on to his strong naked shoulders as he pumped in and out, groaning softly with the effort. She responded with moans of pure pleasure as his sizable cock expertly applied friction to her vaginal walls, hitting her G-spot again and again and again. Waves of ecstatic stimulation cascaded through her nervous system, laying the groundwork for what she was about to become.
But ejaculation in her reproductive organs wasn't the most efficient way to make her metamorphosis happen, although it was intensely pleasurable, and so she found herself uttering the usual command she always did when she underwent this sexy procedure in The Vault: "Pull out! Pull out now, Mike! I have to taste you right now!"
Dr. Smith did exactly as Sabrina requested. Only a few seconds away from his own orgasm, he retreated from her inviting vagina, and did exactly what needed to be done to serve his country best. He moved his penis as quickly as he possibly could directly over her face, and thrust it inside her lips, shooting out his semen with such force that some of it dribbled onto the sides of her cheeks.
"Mmmmm..tastes like sugary syrup," she proclaimed. At first, she choked a little bit on his ejaculation, but then she swallowed his cum with a big gulp and a knowing smile, fully cognizant of what was about to happen next as she quickly absorbed the load into her digestive system, metabolizing it throughout her body. For it was the genetic signature inside Dr. Mike Smith's very active sperm which provided the catalyst for her transformation from ordinary woman to superhuman, and the change was already beginning.
Dr. Smith's role in the procedure was complete, so he retreated to a safe distance to watch Sabrina's progress for the sheer erotic entertainment value. And he wasn't disappointed. Immediately, her black hair began to lengthen, taking on a golden-streaked hue. Her face reshaped itself into the most attractive female countenance he could ever imagine: fiery eyes, long eyebrows, high cheekbones, cute nose, and luscious red lips.
"Ooooohhhhhh!" Sabrina began to moan loudly once again with the most exquisite pleasure, but it wasn't due to knowing that her face was becoming so perfect and beautiful. Rather, it was because she could feel her muscles expanding all over her body, delivering a packet of hormonal endorphins so potent that it was inducing in her a continuous rolling climax as she changed. Her appearance was becoming unrecognizable as the former press secretary, so she needed no mask for concealment.
Sinewy muscles bulged and tightened in her arms and shoulders, as her pectorals pushed out her magnificent breasts even further. The area around the hips narrowed, as the subcutaneous fat of her normal human form converted itself into a dense six-pack of muscles packed tightly around her midriff. And finally, she began to feel massive in her thighs and calves as the strength all across her body multiplied by a factor of dozens, placing her in the upper echelon of superhuman ability.
"Ahhhhhh!" sighed Sabrina, as the changes gradually subsided along with her orgasm, locking her into her new shape as the strongest and sexiest woman on the planet. She was the secret project known to her superiors at the Pentagon only as X-53, although for both her and her scientist paramour, their preferred moniker was simply "Superwoman".
Superwoman was no cornfed Middle-American image from a comic book. Rather, she was beautifully brown-skinned and very obviously Indian at a supermodel level, like Ashwarya Rai or Priyanka Chopra. And her next act was one which had given provided much pride to Indians worldwide. She walked over to a storage closet with a mirror on the inside door, and pulled out a very South Asian-styled superheroine costume, which she put on one piece at a time. Her lover was delighted - he never tired of this part.
She was no modest shrinking violet in a sari. The outfit was very revealing, consisting mainly of shiny spandex bra top and a short skirt which hugged her hips, both burgundy in color. After securing them tightly on her body, Sabrina then slipped on golden brass gloves and impressive bronzed boots, reminiscent of the resplendent rich attire of Sikh warriors, as well as a pair of bangle armlets befitting the wardrobe of a Hindu goddess. Sikh though she was in her background, it didn't hurt to be ecumenical where her visual appeal was concerned.
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"I wish I could make love to you right now in this superhuman form," Sabrina pined to Mike, whose jaw was agape with wonder at her magnificent appearance, in a costume he had helped her design for aerial streamlining and combat efficiency. "I know I'll never cease to amaze you, Mike, and that means a lot to me. But you made me the goddess that I am, and I will always give you the devotion you deserve."
"Yes, and I'll anxiously await your return from this mission. Hopefully you'll have enough time left on this dose for us to pick up where we left off," he replied, caressing her bare brown shoulder and kissing her lightly on the cheek. "But for now, let me open the hatch for you."
The research scientist, who had put back on his shirt, pants and lab coat in the meantime, pressed a bright green on a nearby console, and suddenly there was the clanking sound of a metal hatch opening in the ceiling, filtering in some of the bright Washington D.C. sunlight.
Springing up from a crouching stance on her powerful thighs, Superwoman executed a tremendous leap through the Vault's open skylight, and with her fists launched forward in determination, she took off in flight with a velocity far above 500 mph, streaking in the sky directly to the Middle East at a high rate of speed. Those bureaucrats who worked in offices near the Pentagon heard nothing but a single sonic boom, which they assumed was some kind of military plane doing a flyover.
Sabrina expected that at best, she would be back later that evening with a positive report of an easy victory. At the worst, well, she could be heading straight into a trap...
