Supergirl and the Military Exercise

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DrDominator9
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Supergirl and the Military Exercise

By Dr. Dominator


The character of Supergirl in this story is owned by DC Comics and is only being used here for parody purposes. The other characters are my own and cannot be used without permission from the author.

The costume pictured here is the one that Supergirl wore during some of her years when operating out of Midvale. This story takes place after she graduated Stanhope College. I’ve taken liberties with some of the timing and realities of what occurred in the comics and set it in today’s technology but in this story she’s a young reporter on the Midvale Sentinel newspaper.

There are strong sexual elements in this story and you shouldn’t read this if you are offended by such material or you’re underage. This story is fan fiction only and no profit is being made from it.


SG in Midvale costume.jpg
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Chapter 1

Linda Danvers is lying stretched out on her back with her head resting near the foot of her mattress. Her long blonde hair dangles over the edge while her brunette wig sits on the night table beside her bed should any unexpected visitor come knocking. She bounces her right calf up and down on her knee while her left foot is planted in her pillow at the top end of the mattress.

The 22-year old admires the gleaming pink nail polish on her toes as they wink at her in the up and down rhythm of her muscular beat. The steel blue silk teddy accents her beautiful figure with stretch lines where her breasts rise and fall within the fabric and where her glutes flex and shift as Linda chats on her cell phone with her friend Lisa on a lazy Saturday morning.

“You’re actually going out with David tonight? For real?”

“He finally asked me yesterday when he came in for his second macchiato grande,” Lisa giggled on her end.

“Took him long enough. He must have drunk half the coffee from Brazil getting up the nerve to ask out his favorite barista. Did you encourage him by drawing obscene pictures in his foam?”

“Hey, I’m not that kind of slut?”

“No, then what kind are you and will I get full details about your sluthood tomorrow?”

“If only because I pity you for not having a sex life of your own. You’ve got to stop living vicariously through me sometime, Linda.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m just waiting for Mr. Right.”

“I keep telling you to go for ‘Mr. Right Now’ for a change. Honestly, you’re hopeless.”

“Well, I can’t help it if my standards are…oh, I’m getting another call. I’ve got to take this. Talk to you tomorrow. Have fun and don’t give it all away tonight. Have some dignity, Leezy!”

“Sure, sure. Bye.”

“Hello, this is Linda Danvers.”

“Good morning, Ms. Danvers, I hope I’m not disturbing you. This is General Simon Daniels. I wanted to reach out to you with an exclusive opportunity for you and your newspaper, the Midvale Sentinel.”

“What kind of opportunity do you mean, General Daniels?” Linda swings her feet off the bed and sits up straight.

“We’re having a small operation tonight to test some new drone technology and it might be just a bit dangerous so we were hoping that Supergirl could help us to control any collateral damage that might possibly occur during this test. If she’s willing to give her assistance in this, we would allow you onsite during the operation as an exclusive reporter. It would be quite a coup for your paper and for you, Ms. Danvers.”

“Why are you giving the Sentinel this consideration, may I ask, General?”

“Your paper always seems to have the inside track on putting Supergirl’s many successes on your front page first so we figure someone there either knows her or has some kind of contact with her. That’s why we’re reaching out. I apologize for the short notice but I didn’t get the green light on this field test until an hour ago. I didn’t expect it for another two months, red tape being what it is in the Pentagon. Do you think your paper can get hold of Supergirl so she can be there tonight at 1930?”

“7:30? I can certainly ask them, she doesn’t exactly punch a clock though. May I call you back at this number, General, when and if I get confirmation?”

“Certainly. The test will be held at McKeever Field, just north of Midvale. Do you know where that is?”

“I do but I won’t be able to go myself tonight because I’ve got an assignment already I’ll be working on at that time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. This would be quite a plum byline for any reporter. If I were you, I’d give it to a good friend of yours on the staff there. It’ll be quite a favor to them. But that’s your call of course. I hope to hear from you later, Ms. Danvers, with good news.”

“You will hear back from me one way or another, General. I promise. It shouldn’t take long to get you your answer.”

As soon as Linda disconnects the General’s call, she puts one into the Sentinel’s assignment desk.

“Midvale Sentinel, Aaron Zimmer speaking.”

“Hi, Aaron, it’s Linda. I just got a lead on a story from a Pentagon general by the name of Simon Daniels about a test scheduled for tonight. He’s offering the paper an exclusive if they can get Supergirl there and….”

“Gosh, Linda, she didn’t give me her number last time we had hot sex. I just felt so used.”

Pacing in her bedroom with nervous excitement, Linda stops short and flushes a bright red in a combination of embarrassment and anger. Her eyes roll up and she takes a breath to calm herself down.

“I have a way to contact Supergirl, you jerk. I was just calling to see if Terry Sykes was on the assignment board there. I owe her and she’s a friend and well, is she on the board or not?”

Glancing over, Aaron notes her name is there but only for a school board meeting on Monday night. He tells this to Linda and says he’ll call Terry with info as soon as Linda gives it to him.

“Oh, that’s okay, as long as you approve her for the assignment and put her on the board tonight for 7:30 at McKeever field, I’ll call her myself, if that’s alright with you, Aaron?”

“Fine by me. She’s a good reporter. What kind of test is it, Linda?”

“Something with drones. The general was slightly concerned about collateral damage which is why he wanted Supergirl there for safety. That’s all I know.”

“Why aren’t you grabbing this assignment for yourself, Linda?”

“Me? Oh, well, I’ve got a family thing that’s been in the works for weeks I can’t get out of. Believe me, wish I could! Terry is going to owe me big time.”

“Okay, I’m writing her on the board now,” Aaron says, the dry marker squeaking over the phone. “See you Monday.”

Disconnecting Aaron and tapping her phone’s contact list, Linda puts her forefinger on Terry’s listing, her bare foot squeezing the carpet as the phone rings through. The sensation of her toes digging softly in the deep pile is kind of sexy. She eyes herself in the mirror and the blue silk teddy is doing her no harm. She really does have to find a nice guy.

Why should everyone else have their fun and not me? I deserve a life besides being a hero, don’t I?

“Hi Linda, what’s up?” Terry sounds distracted and busy.

“Oh, nothing, just a plum assignment for tonight I thought I’d throw your way since I’m busy. But hey, it’s only an exclusive on a Pentagon test of some kind. I’m sure you get stories like that all the time. I’ll just tell Aaron to give it to Hallie Mitchell.”

“You do and I’ll break your thumbs,” snaps Terry. “Look, I’m in the middle of something here with my family. I’ll call you back in 10 minutes. Not a second more. Promise. Don’t give that skank my exclusive. PLEEEZZEE!”

After snorting a huge laugh, Linda promises she won’t hand off the story to anyone else and ends the call with Terry. During her wait for her friend’s return call, Linda looks up General Simon Daniels on her phone and scans down the skimpy information she finds there. Posted in Iraq, Afghanistan and stateside in California and now here in Midvale for the past year. That’s all she can find for now. She’ll tell it to Terry who will do her own research. For the balance of the day, Linda plans to patrol as Supergirl around the city, around the country and around the globe before coming back home for the 7:30 appointment with the general.

When Terry gets back on the phone, Linda senses a tension in her friend’s voice that’s not usually there in the easy-going woman.

“Is everything okay over there, Ter?”

“Yeah, Lin, it’s fine, just a lot of family drama. My younger brother just came out to our folks. I can’t believe they didn’t know he was gay. I mean, I’ve known since fourth grade for gosh sakes. He told me two years ago when he was a junior. And that got a big “Duh!” from me and he just laughed, shuffled his feet and squeezed me until my face went blue.”

“So, they took it hard?”

“To say the least. Mom will probably get on board once the shock wears off which shouldn’t take that long. I’m sure she sensed it but hoped she was wrong. Dad, well, I’m not sure when that support hug between him and Jeff will happen. I’m thinking in six years…maybe. Anyway, tell me all about this assignment and why you’re not taking it.”

Linda tells the lie about her family obligation before filling in her good friend and fellow reporter about all the pertinent details of the evening’s meeting at McKeever field. She wishes Terry good luck and that she hopes it’s a big story for her before signing off. After that, the beautiful blonde pulls down the teddy’s shoulder straps, lets it drop to the floor and steps out of it. She tosses it in the hamper on the way into the shower to get her day officially started.

The quick shower invigorates Linda. After toweling off, she goes to her closet, presses the secret release catch and pulls out the clothes hanger holding her famous blue uniform dress with red and yellow accents, matching blue panties and matching red cape. She lays it out on the bed with the world-renowned family crest facing up and then places the boots on the floor.

She is thinking of her day of patrolling as she pulls up the panties that perfectly match the dress. The waistband snaps back and the lithe beauty then pulls the dress off the bed, bundles it in a ring over her head before drawing it down her shapely length so it snugly adheres to all her curves. The silky alien fabric is just as tough as her own skin when it comes to deflecting bullets but nonetheless feels cool and smooth against a body that’s still warm from the shower. After adjusting the skirt here and there so it clings just right, Kara pulls on her thigh-high bright red boots. Next, she attaches her belt of micro-thin rings made from impenetrable Kryptonian metal. Finally, she links up her cape to the collar of her dress and Kara Zor-El is ready to start her Saturday. She appraises her look in the mirror and gives a nod of approval at the emblem stretched across her healthy chest. All is in place and she’s ready to fight for truth, justice and what she still considers the ‘American Way.’

Supergirl walks into the secret compartment in the rear of her closet, closes the door behind her and presses the sole of her boot against the brown knothole button that operates the pneumatic door guarding the tunnel entrance in the floor of the compartment. With her head down with arms outstretched, the attractive blonde dives downward ten feet before the tunnel takes a 90 degree turn. Behind her, the pneumatic door closes on its own inside the hidden room while Supergirl streaks through the 4-foot diameter tube all the way through to the nearby woods. At the far end, she pushes up against the very heavy hinged boulder sealing the tunnel and hears it thump back down beneath her as she soars high into the sky, starting her patrol of her adopted home planet.
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Damselbinder

I quite like the way you've established Linda's friendships to begin with - and you've made her seem like *quite* the lovely young lady. I'll be interestested to see how it goes from here.
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ksire_99
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Nice set up and I like the choice of Supergirl's attire.
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Seems like a riff on "The Bronze Age Supergirl", I am officially intrigued.

JF
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DrDominator9
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Yes, it's a bit of a throwback in costume at least if not the timeline. Thanks one and all on your comments. I'm hoping to post a new chapter every five days or so. That's the plan anyway.
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jigoku
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Thanks! It's a good thing the illustration picture of the outfit at the beginning. I wish you did the same thing for your previous stories.
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DrDominator9
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FYI....All my previous stories I envisioned Supergirl in her traditional costume: blue top with her "S" shield, red skirt and calf-high boots, red underwear and red cape.
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jigoku
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Very nice start. I guess it will be a great story as usual. I can't wait the next chapter.
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In my mind, her traditional costume have not red underwear and her crotch is just covered by a blue leotard. So I thought it was another costume close to the bare midriff version.
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Chapter 2

The Russian submarine glides silently through the dark blue waters off the coast of Hainan Island, just a few miles from the Chinese mainland. While dawn is breaking overhead, the craft plies ahead, not anywhere near where it is allowed to be. In truth, the sub is miles closer in from international waters than permitted for foreign vessels And the Chinese Navy knows it. What’s more, the Russian sub captain, Dimitri Molitov, knows that the Chinese know he is there.

Molitov doesn’t particularly care; his orders are to take depth soundings of the bay as well as pictures of the Yulin submarine base and that’s what he and his crew are doing. The base is spitting distance from the Strait of Malacca. About half of the world’s merchant fleet uses the strait to get to the South China Sea and important trading ports all along the coast of China as well as the rest of eastern Asia.

With rumors of the Chinese thinking to expand that base, the Russians are keen to know as much about what was going on as possible. Naturally, the Chinese are not happy about such spying. In fact, the radio chatter going from the Yulin base to Beijing has escalated in volume and vehemence considerably over the past hour.

Passing very high above the Chinese capital’s airspace, Supergirl picks up the urgent tones in her flyover and slows down from Mach 10 to a cruising speed of 300 miles per hour to listen in more carefully. Her Chinese is more than satisfactory and she realizes that she is hearing the potential prelude of a serious international incident.

Noting the location of the base in the transmission report, Supergirl turns south and fires up her “afterburners,” reaching an incredible speed that puts her at the location of the Russian sub nearly 1700 miles away in about 90 seconds. When she arrives, she finds a pair of Chinese sub hunter drone ships running search patterns for the offending Russian vessel. The drones use the same trimaran design favored by their U.S. counterparts. The three separate hulls provide great stability and the ships offer the same speed and maneuverability characteristics as the American version.

Having finished its reconnaissance mission, the Russian sub, though ready to leave, is now boxed in by the Chinese sub hunter ships. Standing at his command station, the dark-bearded Dimitri Molitov is thoughtfully tapping his forefinger against his lower lip while his ship hovers in the water unmoving for the moment.

“Chief Semenov, what is sonar saying about our new companions?”

“Closing in, Captain. These new ships are fast and they are circling like hungry wolves. Ensign Zilski in sonar is telling me their signature is not anything we’ve heard before. He’s our best man, sir, and he is certain that their pattern search will find us in just minutes, Captain.”

“There’s no gap we can sneak through?”

“Zilski says no. I have to agree.”

“And if we flood ballast and settle?”

“The water here is too shallow for us not to be spotted…even on the ocean floor. They will just wait. Possibly they will drop depth charges or use whatever new weaponry they’ve developed to keep themselves amused.”

“And naturally the survey data collected hasn't been transmitted yet to Moscow?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

“I should have surfaced the second it was done!”

“It wouldn't have helped, Captain. Those ships above us arrived on scene about 15 minutes ago.... even before our survey was completed. Plus, as you're well aware, mission protocol states we not stream transmissions when in enemy waters but to send packets in separate timed bursts for security purposes. By the time the survey was completed and ready to send, the Chinese started sending jamming waves at us. We have the information, Captain, we just can’t get the packets out.”

“Nor ourselves it seems. Set a course through the strait, Chief. Speed 15 knots. Let’s see how resolute our Communist brethren are. Maybe we can bluff our way through this.”

“Yes sir,” the Chief replies, giving the order to the helmsman.

The pilot of the primary Chinese drone ship relays to the Admiral overseeing the drones that his equipment shows that the Russian target has been located and is moving at a slow but steady pace out to sea

“Launch warning depth charge 100 yards before their bow,” comes the brusque command from Admiral Bao Tse Xing. The steel barrel is launched off the deck of the drone ship, soars away from the craft and lands in the water with a great splash. Only 15 seconds later, it detonates with a thunderous explosion.

Aboard the submarine, a thumping boom shivers through the deck causing the Captain to order a full stop.

“They seem quite resolute,” he declares aloud, pulling down on his lower lip, his eyes glancing upward at the enemy somewhere on the surface overhead. His crew’s faces reflect the seriousness of their position, a cold grimness tightening them all. With no way to transmit a request for orders from Moscow, Captain Molitov is on his own.

“Go to periscope depth. Let’s see precisely what we’re dealing with, Chief.”

“Yes sir.”

Admiral Xing is informed that the sub is beginning to rise and gives the order to ready the deck-mounted cannons, machine guns and lasers. “And if a torpedo is launched, initiate countermeasures and sink that sub!”

“Yes sir,” respond the pilots of both Chinese drones simultaneously.

Hovering high in the clouds over the tense naval engagement, Supergirl, whose ability to understand and speak Russian is as strong as her Chinese, hears the orders given by both sides and decides to take matters in her own hands. She dives down to the water, plunging into the cold ocean swells three miles behind the stern of the Russian sub. At a depth of 20 feet, she propels herself forward at a rapid clip, faster than any torpedo until she arrives at the midpoint of the submarine’s keel and rises up, putting her palms against the bottom of the vessel and slowly but surely applying pressure to lift the sub upward, pushing it toward the surface.

Onboard the sub, the unexpected sensation of quick upward movement, quite a bit faster than the normal feeling of rising to periscope depth, throws a few men off balance.

“What’s going on? I didn’t order emergency surfacing!” Captain Molitov yells to his chief, bracing against the command table.

“No sir, it’s not us.”

“What then, some sort of tractor beam? A claw? Pressure wave from beneath? WHAT?!!”

“I don’t know sir but I’m being told the depth gauge says, uhmm, we’re now out of the water, sir. We’re in the air!”

“That’s impossible. I didn’t feel anything clamp onto us!”

Bracing himself against the bulkhead with one hand, the Russian captain grabs onto the periscope with his other and then pulls his face close to the eyepiece and looks through. He sees the buildings of the sub base before him but they are dropping out of sight even as the sub gains altitude.

“DIRMO!” He shouts, the Russian equivalent of ‘Shit!’

From the command building at the sub base, Admiral Xing looks through the wide window out at sea while his drone pilots watch their monitors showing the scene from the deck mounted cameras. The huge Russian submarine rises up out of the ocean and into the air, 10, 30, now 50 feet off the water’s surface and climbing steadily.

“Should I fire cannons at them, Admiral?” The pilot of the primary drone ship asks, his face turned toward his shocked superior.

“Definitely not! If you miss we’d have inbound ordinance coming right at us!”

“There is someone beneath the sub, sir,” says the pilot of the second drone pointing at the scene through the plate glass window. “I recognize the uniform colors. It’s Superman!”

“Uuhhmmm…not Superman, Han,” corrects the first pilot. “That’s Supergirl.”

“Where is she going with my enemy submarine,” barks the Admiral. “That’s what I want to know. Is she working for the Russians?!”

The pilot of the primary drone ship, swivels his camera and tracks the girl carrying the immense sub over 100 feet above the ocean’s surface as she flies it three miles away, just over international waters, supporting its hull with both hands as evenly balanced as possible. Zooming in, the camera catches the girl beneath the sub disappearing beneath the waves as she gently lowers the 48,000-ton vessel onto the surface of the South China Sea.

Just as the sub sinks to the midpoint of its conning tower, the Chinese drone pilot watches on his monitor as the female figure bursts out of the water and lands beside a small antenna array mounted to the conning tower. She quickly pulls off a small satellite dish and flings it several hundred yards across the ocean like a Frisbee. Then she grabs hold of the top of the conning tower and prevents the sub from submerging. Her body hovers in the air and just waits. In under a minute, a hatch in the sub swings upward and a bearded man comes halfway out of the hole. There is a lot of angry gesticulating on his part and simple head shakes from the blonde keeping the sub from submerging with just one arm.

When the drone pilot tells the Admiral what is occurring, the commanding officer smiles.

“Well, that will stop them from transmitting whatever information they got when spying on us. I believe I will put in a call to Japan. We need an unbiased international arbitration on this. They’re running joint naval exercises off the Philippines, they can come in and keep the sub quarantined until matters are worked out. I know I don’t want to be the moron to start a world war. Leave that to the Americans. Stand down, pilots. Return the ships to base and write a full report on the incident and I’ll do the same. I have to go see the Japanese. I will bet there are a lot of pictures I’ll need to get back from the Russians.”

Two hours later, with the Russian sub surrounded by Japanese frigates, more than capable of dealing with the submarine, Supergirl is able to finally leave the area. She hadn’t minded the wait since it had given her a chance to rest and recharge. Not only had lifting that sub and carrying it about four and a half miles through the air taken quite a bit of effort, but the rest of her patrol had been taxing as well. She had dealt with a forest fire in Yosemite, California that she’d blown out, saved a jet from nearly crashing near the Canary Islands and rescued a dozen diamond miners in a tunnel collapse in Botswana.

At 9:20 a.m. in China, the Maid of Steel takes off for her 7:30 p.m. appointment back in Midvale, offering a quick wave to the Japanese seamen lined on their ships’ rails. She only has 10 minutes to get halfway around the globe. In order to make it in time, she pours on her blazing speed, leaving a bright white contrail across the azure blue sky and astonished faces far behind.
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Supergirl!!!! The girl I love to love......
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Chapter 3

Pacing back and forth on the sidewalk bordering a weed-strewn parking lot scattered with about a dozen cars, Terry Sykes awaits the arrival of Supergirl. The short, somewhat portly brunette is dressed in a knee-length navy blue skirt, matching navy high heels, a white blouse and powder blue hoodie. She’s carrying a small notepad and pen in one hand while her other is pushed into her jacket pocket. Linda told her to wait for the heroine before the two of them proceeded.

Slightly chilled by the threatening weather, Terry eyes the storm clouds looming overhead and then takes in the long single-story steel and concrete bunker-like structure that is the main building at McKeever Field. It looks ominous and she feels gloomy despite the break of getting this important assignment. Maybe she was just projecting her sadness at her parents’ negative reaction to her brother’s announcement.

Bowing her hooded head against a gust of wind and wrapping her arms around herself, the reporter hopes Supergirl isn’t delayed. Checking her watch, it reads 7:27. She walks to the end of the building and looks north. Several acres of tall grass grow rampant behind the building. Terry notes it is bisected by a macadam runway. Scattered around the field, she sees a few out-buildings, fuel pumps and a small steel tower just behind the bunker she stands beside with a high-tech anemometer and low-tech wind sock. The barely-maintained facility just a few miles north of Midvale has seen better days.

The sock is limp on this placid evening until it suddenly straightens out with a strong gust as a bright red and blue clad figure swoops down out of the large gray cloud cover and alights smoothly next to the smiling reporter.

“I always love how you make such a dramatic entrance, Supergirl.”

“I suppose. When one can fly, it’s hard not to. How have you been, Terry? It’s been months since we last worked together.”

“Yeah, that Joe Collins kidnapping ring. What a creep he was. I’m glad you caught him, Kara.”

“It was your research and perseverance that tipped the scales, Terry.”

“Let’s just say we make a good team. Hey, can we get inside? I know you don’t feel a chill despite showing all that skin but I do.”

“Oh sure,” Supergirl grins at the teasing barb and flips her hair a bit before tossing back a jab at her friend. “I forget how fragile you humans are.” The smiling pair heads toward the main entrance to the long low building.

“So, what’s the deal here,” Terry asks. “Is this test dangerous? Is that why they need you here?”

“From what Linda told me, the general didn’t seem overly concerned,” Supergirl replies. “More of a precaution, I believe. Did you find out anything irregular that I should know about him?”

“No, he came up clean. A record of steady advancement through his career. Nothing out of order from him.” Terry knocks on the steel door and as the duo awaits someone to come to greet them, she adds, “He does have a son that went to prison about three years back. But the general seemed to be a bit cold about it in the one story our paper wrote about it. Acted as if the kid had it coming. Guess that’s the straight arrow aspect that gets you promoted to general, huh?”

“I suppose. Do you know…”

The door swinging open cuts off Supergirl’s query. Standing before them is a military officer in his 50s standing ramrod straight, about 5’10” wearing a green Army cap sporting a wealth of gold filigree on the visor and band as well as an imposing embroidered eagle on its peak. The brush cut steel gray hair matches the man’s intense eyes. His features are almost hawk-like but he sports a broad smile and an outstretched hand towards the Maid of Steel.

“Good evening, Supergirl, Ms. Sykes. I am General Simon Daniels. I’m so pleased that you two could join us for our little test. Again, I apologize for the lack of notice.”
He ushers the two women inside the building’s anteroom and firmly closes the bulky steel door behind them. The décor of the anteroom is less than basic, with cold beige cement walls, a lone four-foot fluorescent hanging fixture and two uncomfortable-looking blue and red plastic stacking chairs flanking a wood table with a People magazine with a youthful Jessica Alba on the cover.

“It’s no problem, General Daniels. I’m glad you thought to ask for my assistance if there’s going to be any real danger,” Supergirl states.

“I suspect there’s little chance of that but my superior on this project is a bit of a ‘Nervous Nellie’ so I’m placating him in this.” He turns to the reporter with a smile. “Still, your paper should be pleased, Ms. Sykes, to get an exclusive look at the new software and hardware we’re testing out today.”
While the general is chatting with Terry, Supergirl takes a peek into the room next door through a window with a reddish glow seeping around the edges of thick gray vertical blinds. They block the view of the room beyond from normal eyes but Supergirl’s x-ray vision has no problem peering through them. She sees a staff of about a ten standing in clusters or sitting at monitors with a variety of scenes displayed on them.

The large 70” screen on the wall beside a large picture window shows a higher perspective of what can be seen through the window itself: the long black runway cutting through the overgrown field behind the building. One desk-mounted monitor presents a long-shot of a small hangar about 50 yards away with its wide entrance door raised completely. Another monitor shows the same scene but in closeup. Three other monitors in the front row across from the window wall currently offer nothing but white static. The room itself is bathed in traditional albeit somewhat old school red light to ensure distracting white lighting or glare does not impede whatever test is scheduled.

“…armored drones aren’t new but the laser guidance system of the ordinance has been upgraded for much more precise targeting. Anyway, with live subjects in the test range even though the drones are equipped with laser guns set to reduced power levels, we felt it would be prudent to have you here, Supergirl,” the general concludes with a smile. Adding with a bit of a twisted grin, “Nothing as dramatic as runaway nuclear missiles I’m afraid.”

“I can certainly live without that kind of drama, General Daniels.”

“Hey, I’m sure we all can. With rogue states rattling their nuclear sabers so frequently, it’s not all that funny frankly.”

“It’s not just rogue states we have to be concerned about, sir,” Supergirl replies, thinking about the huge confrontation between two superpowers that she’d prevented just before arriving here.

“No, of course, we’re all responsible for our world’s safety.” He offers this platitude with all the concern of a man choosing between an eggroll and won ton soup for his appetizer. Maybe less. “Shall we head in? The test is scheduled to begin in about 20 minutes.” He walks to the door at the opposite end of the dreary vestibule area and opens it, holding his arm out to guide Supergirl by her shoulder into the much larger red-lit room. Terry notes the bland smile on the general’s face and follows.

He probably hates having to do this public relations babysitting crap.

The general leads the two women to a monitor station where an army corporal concentrates intensely on finishing his calibration measurements of the crosshairs on the screen trained on the night’s target: a red and white painted pole topped by a brightly-painted cube measuring 2 feet across. Four blue and yellow checkerboard squares adorn each face of the cube. The large wall monitor shows a set of five such targets spread out across the field.

“Corporal Guidry, are we fully calibrated for Alpha Foxtrot Guidance Test B?”

“Just inputting the final targeting designations now, sir.” He presses the ENTER button and the crosshairs turn from yellow to bright white. “We are now ready for test mode, si...suh… Supergirl?” The corporal has turned in his seat and realized who is behind him. His face is at eye level with the bright yellow disks on her belt and his eyes are wide with the stunning view looming over him. From his vantage point her breasts loom like blue blimps with her nipples pointed at his hairline. She can’t help but smirk at his expression, one she’s seen from men of all ages when suddenly faced with her imposing presence.

“At ease, corporal,” she says gently, eying the crosshairs on his monitor before turning her own crosshairs on the sudden rising bulge in his lap. “Sorry to disturb you.”

“Yes, ma’am…miss… I’m not disturbed, Supergirl…Miss..Ms…”

“Why don’t we move on before young Guidry here loses his focus,” the General scowls at the soldier and presses the women onward.

“Too late,” murmurs Terry, writing down a capsule description of the test area in her notebook. She passes the embarrassed man with a smirk of her own as the corporal gawks past the somewhat rotund behind of the reporter to the shapely shifting rear end of the heroine as she moves on.

Pointing to the 70” television mounted to the left side of the window wall looking out onto McKeever Field’s single runway, the general alludes to the raised hangar door now shown in a closeup on the big screen. “That’s where our drone team is housed, Flight 404 as we call it. It’s seven units but we’re only using three of them for this test. Each drone is equipped with camera, a laser gun set to specific target parameters of our choosing as well as the newest laser guidance hardware and software. Drones carry enough fuel for 30 minutes of flight time. These drones are designed for rapid deployment to nearby combat scenarios and feature excellent maneuverability and precise targeting. They sacrifice armored resistance to enemy fire for low weight characteristics and enhanced speed. They can only be shot down if you’re lucky enough to hit them which isn’t likely when properly programmed.”

While Terry is writing furiously to get all that information into her notebook, Supergirl poses a question.

“What are the target parameters for this test?”

The general beams with pride at his toys out there and all around him. “We’ve set them to avoid the heat signatures of the soldiers involved in this test. Instead they will be targeted specifically to only the blue fields on those blue and yellow cubes mounted on the red and white poles out there. We can now target colors, heat signatures, even specific military insignias on uniforms that are in the data banks.”

Supergirl nods sternly, simultaneously impressed and dismayed at the sophistication of the death-seeking capabilities that military minds never stop envisioning. She holds her tongue and scopes out the hangar about 70 yards away with her own eyes. Her remarkable x-ray capabilities show her a serviceman inside the hangar just setting down a second drone beside an identical one beside it. The Kryptonian beauty looks over the nearest of the two drones. It features some sort of rectangular lightweight composite metal body in gleaming white with black six-inch long arms attached to each corner of the drone’s body. A small angled propeller painted white with gold striping is fastened to each of the device’s four arms. The belly of the drone has a tubular barrel facing forward on a gimble. The gray housing and barrel look especially ominous under the friendly white and gold device.
A front-mounted camera lens is currently sending its signal to a specific monitor in the control room. Currently it is just a view of high grass from a low angle through which a black stretch of runway tarmac can barely be seen.

Noting how Supergirl is looking at three side by side monitors, two of which have nearly identical low-angle views, the general explains, “Each drone has a dedicated data link to our mainframe computer which sends the signal to each specific monitor. The third drone will be set up momentarily and that blank monitor will show what its camera sees once the drone’s power is switched on. Each operator at the monitor has a joy-stick for aerial control of the drone based on what he sees, but during this test, that stick is only meant as an emergency override since all three drones have been programmed with a coordinated attack plan.”

“Can the drones be turned off in an emergency?” Terry asks, pen poised over her pad.

“Well, not turned off entirely per se, no. Each drone costs… well, they’re far too expensive to let them crash like some balsa wood toy,” the general huffs, then quickly adds “but their weapons systems and other secondary systems can be, you know, powered down in a pretty fast procedure. Of course.”

“How quickly?” Supergirl’s arms are crossed, her expression a bit irritable.

“About two or three minutes,” he replies. Her scowl broadcasts her disappointment.

A lot of damage can be inflicted in three minutes’ time.

Terry continues to take notes as the general continues with his presentation of the test.

“Don’t be overly concerned, Supergirl. For this test the drones are only emitting low-energy laser beams. At worse they might provide a momentary tingle akin to a low-level shock from a 12-volt battery. Lasting less than a second, if that. You’re here merely as a precaution. To be honest, it’s your friend Ms. Sykes who we hope will be most impressed. Some good publicity would certainly help this small base’s profile and frankly get some funding which we and Midvale itself could use, I’m sure you agree?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Terry answers with a shrug.

“So, to continue, each drone in this test has its own specific target mission, the team being coordinated as a trio for maximum effectiveness. That attack plan was designed by this bright young fellow,” Daniels beams, placing his hand on the short caramel-colored officer standing behind the trio of operators sitting at their stations. “Supergirl, Ms. Sykes, may I introduce Lieutenant Falak Mezwani. He is the pride of our 110th Aviation Brigade unit here.”

“Good evening, ladies. It’s a pleasure,” he says reaching out his hand to receive shakes from both.

“Falak? How appropriate,” smiles Supergirl. The confusion on Terry’s face has the heroine explaining quickly. “It means ‘of the air’ basically.”

“I’m impressed,” says the 28-year old officer.

“I’ve been called some derivative or other of the word when passing through India on occasion. ‘Soars through air’, ‘walks on air’, ‘rides the air.’ You name it,” grins the blonde.

“How about lots of hot air?” This barb from Terry draws a chuckle from Supergirl and a somewhat stunned silence from the two men. “Oh, I’m s..sorry,” Terry stammers a bit. “We’re good friends. I can say that.”

General Sykes shoots a quick glare at the reporter before brusquely suggesting, “Why don’t we get this test started, if everything is ready Lieutenant?”

“We’re just about good to go, sir. The third drone is just being put in place now.”

“Excellent. Supergirl, Ms. Sykes, you both can stand by Falak in his chair there and he will explain to you both what’s going on during the test. I’ll be in the command chair,” the general states, taking his seat, “monitoring the big screen. We’ll be receiving audio feedback from all stations as well as the outside observers over the sound system in the room here.”

“General?” Supergirl raises her palm up like a student in a classroom. “If I’m needed in the target range for any emergency rescue scenario, where’s my exit?” The heroine’s eyebrows rise up.

“Ahh, right. I was so sure there wouldn’t be an issue, I forgot to open the roof access panel.” Pressing a lever on a control board to his right starts up a small electric whine in the ceiling and a large rectangle slides open to reveal a plastic overlapping membrane. “Just fly up and out if there’s any problem. Otherwise enjoy the show. I’m sure it’ll all be fine.”
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twd32
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This is a massive amount of setup, but I'm enjoying it so far! It's vaguely ominous, without ever being explicitly so. I can't really tell where the story is going, so far it seems rather mainstream superheroics, but you posted it in the Dungeon, so... (It would be amusing if the next chapter had the test go smoothly and everyone going home happy.. ;-)
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twd32 wrote:
6 years ago
This is a massive amount of setup, but I'm enjoying it so far! It's vaguely ominous, without ever being explicitly so. I can't really tell where the story is going, so far it seems rather mainstream superheroics, but you posted it in the Dungeon, so... (It would be amusing if the next chapter had the test go smoothly and everyone going home happy.. ;-)
Thanks for you kind comments, twd32. (Total Waist Dimension 32"?) (Total Walking Distance 32 km?) (Talking While Driving 32 miles?)

Yes, this might be considered a lot of setup for a short story but I assure you the payoff should be worth hanging around for...and then some. I'm pleased you're enjoying it as it's developing however, and there's lot's more action and peril coming in Chapter 4 and 5 and then even more all the way to the end.

And no, the test will not go smoothly where everybody has an ice cream cone and waves goodbye at the end. Promise!
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I like how you are establishing how powerful she is Dr. D. Makes for her 'fall' all the sweeter!

K
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twd32 wrote:
6 years ago
This is a massive amount of setup,...
You're kidding right? Maybe that's why I get so little love LOL!

Anyway, as you see this is a dungeon story, there's gonna be a reason for that I am sure, any minute now..... DrD is not one to leave his readers wanting :)

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Hi this is really gud Doc look forward to reading the rest xx
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Personally I find that all this setup is essential for a good story.
That's what's missing in a 30 min movie. As a result, the heroine often lacks heroism because she has never been seen victorious.
I like long stories that are slowly but surely developing the background of the heroine. I find it good when a story has at least 20 chapters. I hope that will be the case for this one.
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jigoku wrote:
6 years ago
I find it good when a story has at least 20 chapters. I hope that will be the case for this one.
Well, Jigoku, I don't think I can promise you 20 chapters on this story. I never intended it to be quite that long. Frankly, I'm thinking more like 10 - 12 chapters. Then again, I thought "Supergirl Captured By the Mob" was going to come to an end at 25 chapters and that went to about 90! :lol:

So, I'm probably the last person you can rely on for story length prognostication. :yucky:

In any case, I pretty sure however long it is, you'll find it intoxicating and a worthy read.

Thanks everyone for all your generous support and active comments on this story. I was afraid that sort of response here was a thing of the past. I'll be posting the next chapter either Sunday or Monday.

:thanks:
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Chapter 4

Inside the hangar, Corporal Frank Delancey, a young redhead, carefully steps back from the drone he’s initiated and set down. Then he and two army privates proceed outside, marching in a line into the middle of the small airfield. Each man takes his position five feet away from each of three six-foot high red and white painted wooden poles implanted in the high grass on the far side of the runway. The poles are separated from each other by 20 feet of waving grass.

“As the general said, the drones are targeting the blue on those blue and yellow cubes on the top of the poles,” Mezwani softly explains to the two women standing behind him. “The men are there for accurate battle simulation but don’t worry, the drones are programmed to avoid their heat signatures and will only target what they’ve been programmed to attack.”

“Those men seem awfully close to those poles from here,” Terry states, hurriedly capturing more facts and observations in her notebook.

“The camera makes it look closer than it is. Nevertheless, the accuracy tests on these drones prior to this battle scenario have been remarkable,” Mezwani states with pride.

All three men wait there under the gloomy sky hung heavy with gray clouds. The wind speed is picking up based on the instrument readings on the monitor in front of a red-headed sergeant inside the building and he announces this fact to the general.

“Are we approaching critical wind speed for drone risk, Sergeant Nelson?”

“No sir, we’re at half risk speed, General,” the man says, half-turned in his seat, the red glow in the room giving his visage an unnatural eeriness. “Current gusts top out at 17 miles per hour.”

“Keep me apprised if we get up to 30, Sergeant.”

“Have these drones been tested in these severe wind conditions?” Supergirl’s right eyebrow arches up with concern.

“They’ve tested out fine, up to around that 35 mph limit the sergeant referred to. I won’t sweat it until we near 30 or so.”

“Glad I’m not them,” Terry say, nodding at the trio of soldiers in the field standing at attention.

“Lieutenant Mezwani, what say we get things started,” the general’s voice snaps out.

“Yes sir. Engaging launch software sequence now,” the officer says, selecting a yellow line of text on the screen before him. Supergirl notes the scenes on the three monitors tied to the drones shift and tilt a bit as the three drones lift off the cement floor of the hangar and then fly forward over the high grass of the airfield. The view of the grass shrinks as all three drones clear the building and rise up into the sky. All three hold steady positions aloft in tight formation, separated from each other now by only three feet of open air.

“Static hover accomplished. Ready to engage attack mode, General,” Mezwani declares.

“Wind speed, Sergeant?”

“Still at 17 and holding there, sir.”

“Any concerns about engaging attack mode, Lieutenant?”

“None, sir.”

“Take ‘em for a spin then, Falak. Let’s see how well you write code.”

“Copy that, sir. Engaging testing now,” Mezwani replies with a broad smile. “Show the people what you can do, Flight 404.” he says to his robotic children. When he chooses a different line of yellow text the views from all three monitors change to show three different views of the men below standing at attention near target poles with their colorful cube tops. Floodlights on poles along the borders of the airfield light the scene clearly on the large wall monitor and to the naked eye.

“Beginning attack run,” Mezwani says. Having engaged the last component of the test, he stands up and walks behind the operator of the middle monitor and watches all three screens with rapt attention.

At first Supergirl shifts her attention between the three monitors near her, the large wall-mounted screen, and her own view of the field through the window wall. When she realizes that her own view and the view on the big wall monitor are nearly identical, she just looks through the window for now, with only occasional glimpses at the three drone view monitors as they show the target cubes coming rapidly into center screen.

Outside, across the airfield, dull red beams cut through the air from three separate directions followed by three loud almost simultaneous bells from the myriad speakers located on the hangar and command building. Tied into the targets, they sound when the low-intensity lasers register a hit.

With the sound of successful hits still echoing, the trio of drones suddenly rise up out of their hover positions and scramble through the sky in rapid loops that Terry can’t follow. And before she even writes about the first attack sequence, the second one commences, with all three drones honing in successfully on the blue squares on the opposite sides of the cubes they’d each originally hit. Three more bells resound across the field from the speakers in rapid succession as the general nods with pleasure and gives a quick little fist pump at his chair.

The three soldiers stand by the red and white poles looking up at clean blue squares lit by the floodlights and smile. Except for brief gusts of chilling wind things are going great. Corporal Delancey standing next to the middle target in the field can’t believe he’s actually receiving a hazardous pay bump for this assignment. He’s thrilled he volunteered for it, especially since he owed Private Joe Thomas standing at the far right-hand target $45 bucks for the loan at last night’s craps game.

“That’s the first test sequence completed,” Lieutenant Mezwani declares, walking over to his own command monitor. Bending over it, he clicks the mouse, bringing up a drop-down list. “What’s the status on our wind speed, Nelson?” Falak asks before committing to the next stage.

“Picked up just a bit to 22 mph gusts, sir,” the sergeant responds. “Still good to go.”

“Roger that,” Mezwani nods, then highlights and double clicks on the second entry on the listing shown. “Giving the command to initiate the second attack scenario, “V Wing”, now, General.”

“Now you should see some really fancy drone flying, ladies,” the gray-haired Daniels beams with pride. The peaked cap sits back on his head at a rakish angle and he even looks handsome despite the omnipresent red lighting everywhere.

High in the middle of the airfield, the three drones hover in place in a new formation. Rather than in a straight line, the trio now have a lead drone with its two companions behind it to the right and left.

“In later tests,” Lieutenant Mezwani says as he retakes his standing position behind the middle drone command station, “there will be seven drones, which will make a more impressive V.”

“I’m sure it’ll be a most impressive phalanx,” answers Terry with a smirk. The general’s sudden glower at the reporter turns to one of concentration as his eyes move to the big screen showing a close-up of the threesome starting their next test attack on the blue and yellow target cubes.

The lead drone zooms low and fires a burst of three pulsed red beams at the upper most blue corner of the cube while the companion drones swoop in opposite semi-circles nailing the lower blue corner on the opposite side, each with its own three pulses. The clanging bells of so many multiple hits registering over the course of a mere five second interval since the start of the attack draws a round of cheers from all the army technicians in the control room. A faint hurrah can even be heard from body mikes of those soldiers in the field.

The general looks over at the large man wearing captain’s bars on his lapel and manning yet another monitor at the end of the table. “I told you it would work, Arnie. You owe me a sawbuck,” he says with a happy nod.

“Never should have doubted Mezwani, sir,” the captain nods back with a headshake. He resumes his attention to his monitor, clicking his mouse on yet another list displayed there.

“I am king of coders, Shavers,” exults Mezwani at the captain, awash in his success and the camaraderie in the room.

“Let’s repeat that run then, Lieutenant, but change up the lead bird…if you can,” the general orders with a lilt of challenge.

His fingers flashing on the keyboard, Mezwani issues the new command, highlights the line in the list from yellow to white and hits ENTER.

Once again, the drones form up high in the middle of the field before rushing forward in V formation, aiming at the cubes and dropping down with nasty intent. But the views on all three drone monitors don’t show blue and yellow cubes filling the screen, instead the bodies of the three soldiers standing nearby occupy the three monitors. The men sitting at those monitors and the face of Lieutenant Mezwani all drain of their color simultaneously.

“Oh no!” The soldier on the leftmost monitor for his specified drone mumbles to himself even as Mezwani dashes to his own command monitor.

There is a flashing red pulse on the left-hand monitor and a loud grunt from one of the field microphones as the body shown on the screen suddenly drops out of site, below the bottom of the screen. The same scene is repeated on the center and rightmost screens dedicated to the other drones: two red dots glowing dead center of the bodies and two more falling bodies.

“Lieutenant, I’m showing here that my drone’s lasers have been boosted to mid-range power!” The soldier at the center drone monitor says with obvious alarm.

“Mine as well.”

“And mine,” declares the third soldier at his monitor.

“That’s wrong! They’re not supposed to be set to that,” barks Mezwani, frantically typing at his command monitor’s keyboard. “I’m stopping this test, General!”

“Of course,” murmurs the commander who nods his head numbly at the chaos surrounding him.

On the large wall monitor all three men are on their knees in the tall grass, wavering in pain by the red and white target poles. Just then, from the center of the room, there’s a loud whooshing sound and Supergirl’s boots are the only things left to see in the hole in the ceiling out of the corner of everyone’s eyes.

Terry Sykes notes the time on the wall clock and jots it in her pad, then rapidly writes more as she keeps an eye on the big TV. Her stomach churns with mad alarm for the men’s sake out there.

Everyone in the control room watches with nervous hope as the blue and red figure flashes into view, taking her position in the middle of the field: one knee raised, one leg pointed downward, her back arched and arms outstretched with fists clenched. She searches out her first victim and sees one drone circling behind her to get a shot at the man moaning beneath her. She turns her head sideways and unleashes a bright red beam of her own from her glaring eyes. The thin stream of heat vision bathes the hovering drone, suffusing it with a rosy glow yet the aerobot still manages to painfully sear the hunched over soldier’s back before it zips away from the concentrated heat ray from Supergirl’s eyes. The Maid of Steel is shocked that the airborne robot did not explode. Worse yet, it was even capable of injuring the man she’d tried to protect.

What’s wrong?! The general said these things weren’t that heavily armored!

“Aieeee!” Nearby, another soldier, Private Joe Thomas, screams in agony as the patch on his shoulder smolders with a curl of smoke. The after effect of that second drone’s attack is a nasty burn mark through the scorched material and a patch of blistered skin.

Supergirl rockets straight toward the boldly hovering drone six feet over the soldier’s head, aiming to smash it to smithereens with her outstretched fists. It completely dodges her attack by instantly dropping down and to the left by three feet before zooming away untouched.

What?!! I had that thing!! What’s happening?

“What’s the matter with Kara?” Terry half-whispers, amazed at the drones’ abilities to withstand her friend’s efforts. First her heat vision doesn’t do the job and now she’s missed badly with her super speed.
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Damselbinder

Oh gosh! The stakes are definitely going up. Again, the military verisimilitude is very impressive, and there's definitely a sense of tension.
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Dr. D, I LOVED this latest chapter! Things are REALLY getting interesting now. Can't wait for more! (ugh @ the wait) ;)
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Oh gosh, things went south real fast on this one! And is it that SG is off, or that the drones are particularly good ... hmmm ...
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Intriguing! What's going on here? Is SG weakened somehow? Are the robots just that good? And will those soldiers turn it to be more than hapless victims?

I'm staying tuned. :-)
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I'm thrilled with the reaction this story is getting here!

I want to thank everyone for their specific comments about the plot elements and descriptions. Hearing what specifically grabs your attention helps me understand the story aspects that readers enjoy so I know what types of plot twists to include in future stories.

As to the agonizing wait between postings, well, I AM an ego-maniacal villain after all! Mwah ha ha ha!! Nevertheless, I'll give you mere mortals a break a post another chapter very soon. Until then, SUFFER. Mwah ha ha ha, Mwah ha ha ha, Mwah ha ha ha!!!

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Chapter 5

White and gold drones suddenly seem to be everywhere at once as the menacing trio swoops, dives and surges at the men from countless angles, cutting through the air and scorching the frightened GIs over and over. Supergirl is a whirling dervish of determination, trying to be everywhere. She aims her fists, kicks at the buzzing propellers, uses her heat vision and even tries her super breath to blow the menacing drones away. It’s all for naught. They’re too fast, too synchronized and too maneuverable to get a single effective shot at them.

Zipping through the air or hovering in place for a second’s pause, the relentless aerobots target the three terrified soldiers with relentless precision despite the heroine’s best efforts. Only half a minute has passed but the renowned heroine seems badly overmatched against the Army’s deadly weapons.

And then a brilliant flash lights up the world as a bolt of lightning less than a mile off rips across the sky. It’s followed by an ear-splitting crash of thunder and a heavy downpour. Visibility is reduced to less than 20 yards in the sudden torrent but the sounds of the ominous drones continues to haunt the airfield.

“How are you doing with that shut down, Lieutenant?” The general asks calmly, showing remarkable restraint, regained for now, considering the crisis.

“Working the solution, General. By-passing programming as fast as I can. I don’t know how this happened.” Mezwani’s exasperation is palpable.

“Sergeant Nelson, what’s the current windspeed? Maybe the drones will return to the hangar on automatic safety protocol if we top 35.”

“We’re only reaching max gusts of 28 so far, sir. Sorry.”

“Not your fault, son. It’s still in Mezwani’s hands for now then.”

At his station, the anxious lieutenant continues to punch at his keyboard and click at his mouse going through the tediously lengthy shutdown sequence.

Out in the storm, Supergirl continues to flail at the menacing aerial robots as they take easy pot shots at the cowering men. In desperation, she pulls off her cape and drapes it over the redheaded corporal to shield him from the searing red beams. When a drone whizzes past and is still able to draw a grunt of pain from him, Supergirl is stunned once more.

That’s impossible! That fabric is as strong as…

Supergirl’s brain goes into overdrive. She’d thought her ineffectiveness against these drones was due to the fact that she was still recovering from her day’s fatiguing patrol work and that screamingly fast return to Midvale from halfway around the globe. She presumed that she’d badly overextended herself without realizing it. But that wouldn’t affect her costume.

Something else is going on here!

Just as she realizes some other factor is at play, the drones’ automated software switches their attention to her instead of the soldiers she’s dismally failed to protect. The storm has drenched the young heroine and all of her sensuous curves can be seen through the clinging fabric, leaving little to the imagination.

With her modesty protected at least by the limited visibility of the downpour, only the cameras on the three drones show her alluring assets when they begin to close in on their attack. In fact, the shape of her nipples jutting against the blue dress fabric fill the screen of the monitor connected to the lead drone. The young soldier there gets a generous eyeful of blue material turned almost transparent by the rain clinging to Supergirl’s full breasts and pointed tips. He’s simultaneously awestruck and terrified as he sees the targeting crosshairs center on those impressive curves. Coalescing more than 150 feet up, the menacing trio organizes into its programmed V-shaped attack yet again, this time targeting the threat their programming now perceives the flying figure to be.

A mile away, a jagged spear of lighting once again lights up the sky followed a mere second later by booming thunder. The wind picks up to 28 mph and drives the cold rain into the faces of the frightened men like needles.

Barely affected by nature’s sudden rage, the swooping lead drone coldly seeks out the most prominent feature in the blue field showing in its crosshairs, Supergirl’s right breast jutting forward. Shooting out a bright red beam, the laser gun scores a direct hit! While there’s no damage to her costume or to her skin beneath, there is a shocking tingle reverberating through Kara’s supposedly impervious body. This sensation draws a gasp from the hovering heroine. She has more than enough super strength left that the strike doesn’t hurt her but that sudden surge of pleasure from the tingling beam throws her off her guard. Kara is surprised and ashamed for feeling even a little bit turned on in such a dire situation.

From directly behind her, a second drone fires its laser gun at the unprotected right rear buttock of the shapely blonde. The soldier at his drone’s monitor sees the lovely glute glow a rosy red from a more dispersed beam even as Supergirl’s body trembles noticeably with a second thrilling pulse surging through it. She shakes her head, fending off the second disorienting wave of pleasure with a surge of anger now, only to have her left breast lit up a glowing red from the beam fired unleashed by the third drone coming in at a different angle.

As her body recoils with yet another breathtaking jolt of joy, a new flash of lightning freezes her body arching with ecstasy in a momentary frame of time. And then the instant changes. Thunder rolls through the sky while the determined Maid of Might swivels her head and strikes the hovering drone directly with her own glowing red heat vision beam. For a second time, the aerobot hovers upward out of range, unaffected by her retaliatory red ray. Supergirl’s swinging left fist at the departing drone passes harmlessly through the empty air.

“She looks like a sitting duck out there,” declares General Daniels, musing at the grainy picture on the large wall monitor. The sudden torrential downpour has let up as quickly as it appeared, the blanketing curtain of water shifting to a simple steady drizzle, allowing for a somewhat compromised view of the action from the camera mounted on the building’s roof.

“Look! Supergirl’s diversion, it’s letting the men escape,” says Captain Shavers pointing to the big wall screen showing three hunched figures dashing in rapid single file through the shadows between the field lights toward the open hangar.

“Diversion? More like a friggin’ bullseye, if you ask me,” Terry murmurs to herself.

“Thank goodness, some good news for a change,” the general huffs as if it’s Supergirl who’s been the source of the problem. “Lieutenant, where are we on the shutdown? I want to know what went wrong out there.”

“…What is STILL going wrong out there, don’t you mean, General?” Terry pointedly waves her arm at the big screen showing Supergirl taking multiple hits from the three drones. Some hits shake her breasts, others send her rear end quaking, these being the most prominent targets. But those aren’t the only embattled body parts. Other beams in the multi-pronged attack strike home under her skirt, honing in on a different heat signature in their target field. Every strike there creates a noticeable hip jerk and yelp from the flailing blonde. The drones buzz around her in rapid maneuvers, stinging her with a combination of intense bright red beams and more diffused wider ones. In fact, in their furious assault, the trio of aerobots seem multiplied in number, more like a swarm of angry wasps than just three devices.

On the large screen, the tormented blue and red figure seems to be enduring a constant array of painful shocks with her body arching and spasming with hit after hit but the individual drone monitors are telling their technicians quite a different tale. The blonde beauty’s face in quick closeups from the cameras on the plunging and darting drones show white eyes, their irises rolled up under her lids; her lips forming a very sensual quivering circle.

What appear to be spasms of pain can only be read as incredible pleasure from such close visual evidence. The shakes, shudders and quivering of that lithe twisting body in mid-air on the big monitor can only be near-orgasmic throes of joy as understood by the three drone technicians watching their assigned screens. The unsure shared glances between the men about whether to report this observation is rendered moot when suddenly the overwhelmed heroine lets out a tremendous squeal and thunderous grunt that clearly stems from delight and not pain. Dropping out of the sky with all the grace of a falling brick, Supergirl’s body smacks down hard into the muddy field on her back, laying there inert with her arms and legs sprawled wide in the waning drizzle. Off in the distance, the quickly moving storm lights up the underside of the clouds and the thunder takes longer to reach back to the airfield.

Meanwhile, helpless to fend off the relentless drones, Supergirl takes even more hits as the trio of aerobots lights up her defenseless frame again and again. Her limp figure jolts repeatedly with arms and legs flailing. Her short dress is hiked up with her bright blue mud-splattered panties showing. The world-famous, revered heroine takes repeated hits to her breasts and her crotch under the constant barrage of the programmed aerobots.

Oh, Rao! Such pleasure…tickling all my…my...ohh…can’t...take it...I...I..

“HUUUGNNHH!”

Supergirl’s back arches as the gorgeous blonde lets out a massive grunt before her body flops back into the thick mud, shuddering, profoundly overwhelmed by a second orgasm.

The drones break off their attack, all three ascending vertically in a set.

The steady silver rain slows as the night spins on. The great clouds that remain in the area, relieved of their heavy burden, now release nothing more than a gentle mist through the glare of the field lights. The violence that nature owns turns suddenly tranquil, giving the moment the grainy gray texture of an antique photo.

Slouched in her muddy patch, Supergirl’s upturned face displays a vacant stare of dopey satisfaction, her keen mind blunted by absolute joy. She too distracted for now to comprehend the danger facing her as the drone trio reforms into yet another V formation high above her.

Careening through the night, the lead drone’s red beams increases in brightness to almost a neon red halfway through its strike, searing a slit through the hem of Supergirl’s skirt. It leaves an angry red welt along the shrieking heroine’s inner thigh and Terry’s face inside the control room sees this close up on the third monitor assigned to its drone. Her horrified expression is followed by her shout.

“WHAT’S THAT?!! WHAT’S IT DOING NOW!” The cry of alarm fills the room and draws a sharp look of disapproval from the general.

A civilian losing control. Typical!

“My drone’s laser is now at full power,” warns the third technician tensely with the other two quickly confirming the same of theirs.

The second drone targets the sprawled blue figure with its deadly fully-armed laser pointing directly at her. It senses only minor quivering movements from the target in its crosshairs as it hovers low at point blank range a mere two feet over Supergirl’s limp figure. It fires, shooting a searing hot red laser beam at Supergirl’s heaving chest. A tiny half-inch hole appears in the blue material just to the right of her nipple, leaving a curl of smoke, a white blister and a circle of angry red skin.

“Aaiiyeeee!” There’s no mistaking this scream from the heroine as anything other than agony. Nevertheless, with a violent flash of blue, one hand covers her breast while her other arm sweeps up in an autonomic reaction. Her fist hits the drone dead center, sending it careening off into the distance over 100 yards away, crashing hard against one of the light poles at the far end of the airfield. It is reduced to a shattered spray of white and gold parts but it’s two brethren hang close, safely out of reach of the groaning heroine as she feebly fails to pull herself out of the restraining muddy slop in which she lies.

Hoovering not four feet above her with both cameras aimed at her body, the almost sentient aerobots increase the distance between themselves, obeying the software that programs them not to be easy targets close together. The laser guns on the two remaining drones swivel now, ready to shoot, ready to kill if possible. Supergirl tries to light up the nearest drone with her heat vision but the residue of her draining orgasm and her battle fatigue render her defenseless. Her eyes widen with genuine fear as she cringes in place, trying desperately to scuttle backward but too weak to escape the brown muck. The drones hover a foot closer now, computing their best angles now that the target presents little threat. Suspended in the glare of the field lights, their gold and white bodies drip with rain and menace, poised to kill. Then, without warning, the pair rapidly rises up vertically and heads back toward the hangar.

“It’s done,” announces Mezwani the control room. “I’ve shut down the test and ordered the drones back for analysis.”

“Oh, thank god,” declares Terry letting out a huge sigh of relief as she notes the time on the clock and writes it down. With the apparent danger done, the grimacing reporter scratches out many more notes about the failed drone test. The general is eyeing her with alarm.

“Staff Sergeant Bernard, go outside and help Supergirl in here. I think the army owes her an explanation for what happened here today.”

“I don’t think the lady needs helping,” says Mezwani alluding to the window in which the far off Supergirl is seen first stumbling and slipping a bit while extracting herself from the muddy patch then lifting off in mid-air with a most menacing scowl on her face. “She seems to be heading our way and she doesn’t look happy.”

“To say the least,” murmurs Terry,

Indeed, the famous blonde dynamo flies straight ahead for twenty yards before swooping to her left and dropping low to snatch up the drenched cape where the retreating soldier had left it. She lets it dangle in the wind beneath her as she turns and soars toward the control building with fury in her eyes.
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twd32
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Nice action! Loved the visuals of her getting blasted by red sun rays (?) in the rain and lightning. A rather humiliating experience. The general is going to get an earful!
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Thanks, twd32. Going out of town so next posting will be next Wednesday or so.
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girlofsteel
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Yeah seeing Supergirl struggle in the mud was great. You have a gift for creating memorable scenes. I'm getting to this late ...but that mean's I've also had plenty to enjoy. The build up gave me a real BioWeapon (by Nemesis9 & Sharon Best) feel. It's one of my favs, but you've succeeded in making it your own. I can't wait to see where this goes.
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Clyde123
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Really loving the story. Can't wait until Wednesday (or so..).

Supergirl would no doubt be really embarrassed if her nipple slipped out of the hole in her uniform while she is berating the General. 😁
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flirty_but_nice
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Well, it's Wednesday. Please don't make us have to wait for "...or so."
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Chapter 6

Hovering in front of the command center’s picture window, a thoroughly-drenched Supergirl motions to the general through the glass, pointing repeatedly at the lamps flooding the room with its red glow. She draws an angry finger across her throat to have him cut their power. When the man gives her a shrug with palms upraised and a quizzical face, Supergirl’s eyes flare with a red glow of her own, a not-so-subtle warning. Half the people in the room either step back or shift uneasily in their chairs.

“Cut the red lamps, Shavers,” commands Daniels, thinking better of his mimed uncertainty. “Go to normal lighting. Now!” The devilish crimson glow in the girl’s eyes has him alarmed until he finally sees them dampen down and go back to their lovely sky blue.

“Yes, sir.” The Captain toggles a simple switch on the board to his right and the room’s rosy hue is replaced with normal fluorescent white light that sets most to squinting as their eyes adjust.

Supergirl flies up out of view of the picture window but her boots quickly appear through the flaps in the roof’s access hole. As she descends down into the room her dress hem gets pushed up by the rubber panels and her sopping wet panties show off a startlingly obvious camel toe to one and all. The thin clinging fabric defines her crotch down to her slightly swollen lips.

Terry’s hand goes to her mouth with a slight gasp and a few coughs are heard throughout the room. However, by the time the heroine’s feet alight on the floor, her rain-soaked dress hem drops back down and her obliviousness to her condition is immediately eclipsed by her loud demand in front of everyone.

“General! I demand some answers!”

“Yes, of course, Supergirl. I just want to apologize for everything that went on here today and I can explain.” General Daniels rises from his command chair and moves toward the heroine who is now flanked by Terry, both women glaring at him.

“I’m waiting,” Supergirl declares, her arms crossed under her rain-soaked bust, pushing up her conspicuous breasts without realizing the effect it has on all the males in the room.

When the general starts to put his arm around her shoulder, she pushes it off gruffly with her hand, warning, “Don’t you dare touch me!”

“Yes, I’m sorry. Again, I apologize, Supergirl, however I have to tell you, I’m restricted from telling you anything concrete out here. Most of it is classified information. We need to discuss it in my private office. This way,” he says with a nod and a fawning courtesy bow, sweeping his arm toward a door on the far end of the room.

“Very well,” Supergirl answers, starting toward the door to his office. Suddenly she makes a sharp left to Captain Shaver’s post and looks at the switch he stands beside. Earlier, while she was hovering outside the picture window she’d used her x-ray vision to watch him flip it after the order from the general. Now she glares at the toggle until a red stream of heat vision quickly melts it, burns a one-inch hole through the wood table and cuts the wires leading down from the switch. The glowing puddle of harsh-smelling plastic, the scorched black hole in the table and the sheared ends of the gleaming copper wire make a clear statement of Supergirl’s displeasure.

She points a finger at the wide-eyed captain and then at the scowling general, growling, “No more tricks! Okay, Terry, let’s go in and hear what the General has to say about all this.”

“Oh, she is not allowed in this meeting,” the general says, putting his palm up to stop the young reporter in her tracks. You’ve got clearance for this but she doesn’t.”

“She has now,” Supergirl snaps defiantly. “You’re the one who wanted her here, this is part of her exclusive, she’s going in with us!”

“…Unless you prefer we both leave right now,” Terry adds coyly. “Then you can read all about this fiasco on the front page of tomorrow’s Midvale Sentinel? I can live with that. How about you, General Daniels?” The smirking reporter looks at the gray-haired officer with one eyebrow raised in defiance.

“No! No, I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. Shall we ALL proceed?” Once again, the distinguished military man gestures to the door on the far wall. Both girls strut their way over, pleased with regaining control of the situation. Supergirl leaves a thin trail of water from her dripping costume as she walks. The girls are followed by General Daniels as well as Captain Shavers and Staff Sergeant Kyle Bernard. All three men enjoy the view of the heroine’s sashaying ass clearly defined by the wet dress clinging so provocatively to its curves as she moves. When the group reaches the door, Supergirl looks behind her, notes the two tall men accompanying the general and turns to face him.

“So, both these men have the security clearance to hear what you’ll be telling us in there?”

“Yes, they also serve as my personal aides. I trust them with my life.”

Supergirl eyes the sidearms the two men are wearing in their belt holsters and scowls at the guns. “Are those necessary?”

“Why would they make YOU nervous, Supergirl?” The general seems quite surprised.

“Not for myself per se but because I suspect things might get a bit heated in there,” she motions to the room behind the door, “and having firearms never seems to be a good idea in such cases.”

“I’m not thrilled with you giving me orders but if it makes you feel safer, I can ask these soldiers to leave their guns outside,” the general bristles. “Of course, I’m not sure I feel all that safe with you and your powers in a heated debate either, my dear, if I may be so frank.”

“I’ll be the model of decorum, general. I’m also fascinated to find out just what this test was really all about.”

The general reaches for the doorknob, twisting it and declaring, “Well, as soon as we’re inside I’ll be happy to…”

“If you don’t mind, General Daniels,” Supergirl says, putting her hand on his before he can pull the door open. She presses the door closed again, holding his hand firmly on the knob as she surveys the room with her x-ray vision. “I just want to be sure there aren’t any more surprises in there. I didn’t like what you sprung on me out there.”

“Really? You didn’t like any of it?” General Daniels turns and gives his two aides a smarmy wink.

Supergirl squeezes his hand just a bit and the general suddenly grunts in pain, then she whispers in his ear, “You don’t want to get cute with me, General Daniels, do you?”

“No,” the man grimaces as the Maid of Steel continues to hold it firmly against the doorknob. Meanwhile, she goes on scanning the room slowly and cautiously with her super vision. She sees no other real threats to her inside the room, although the walls are unusually thick and lined with some sort of sound proofing foam or matting, so it’s a bit grainy to peer through. Spotting a small, lead-lined safe, this concerns her.

“Why the lead-lined safe, General? If there’s any kryptonite inside it, you won’t get the combination dialed before I disable you, you realize that, right?”

“Kryptonite? Hell no! Of course not. You completely misread the situation. The test is over. You passed with flying colors as did our drones. As for the lead-lining, this is an old facility. I’ve no clue as to why it’s lead lined. Maybe they made them that way?”

“I also see there’s a gun in your desk drawer.”

“That’s true. Still worried? I’d say that I would give it Ms. Sykes here but I’m afraid she’d use it on me based on how hard she’s taken our little military exercise. I don’t think she likes me.”

“I’m a reporter, general. We prefer the truth. You haven’t served up much of that,” Terry snaps back.

“Well, the drawer is locked if that makes either of you feel better,” Daniels says with a shrug.

“Let’s go in, I’m not that concerned about the gun,” Kara says. “I just want you to know that I’m aware of it and that you have a lot of explaining to do to a very angry, very powerful woman, sir!”

“I’m well aware of that fact. It’s why we need to talk. May I?” The general nods at his sore hand on the knob. Supergirl releases her grip and all five people walk into the room.

“Please, take a seat.” Daniels motions to the two wooden armchairs and both women sit down as he circles the large cherry-stained desk and takes his seat in the comfortable high-backed leather executive chair. The room is simply furnished with only some shelving on the walls, some citations and pictures of the general with fellow commanders in the field in various dessert, jungle and headquarter locations.

The two soldiers take their places on opposite sides of the now-closed door and stand at attention. “At ease, Arnie, Kyle. We’re all on the same side,” Daniels commands.

Both men relax slightly, taking less tense stances, their arms crossed behind their ramrod straight backs: soldiers going very much by the book. Terry glances back with a turn of her head, not thrilled with having the two men standing behind her during this meeting but there was nothing she could really say about it. The general nudges a candy dish on his desktop slightly in the direction of the women and smiles but Supergirl waves it off dismissively. Terry eyes the sweets glinting at her in the overhead lights that bathe them with almost spotlight appeal but then thinks better of it and declines them as well with a similar pass motion of her palm.

“So, I want to explain everything so you realize there’s no real nasty intent involved in what happened out there,” the general smoothly explains. “It is true things went awry but not quite as awry as it appeared.”

“Oh, so, using red ceiling lamps in that room out there,” Supergirl gestures, “to bombard me with radiation that precisely matches my home planet’s red sun wasn’t an accident? Gee, General Daniels, what a shock!”

“Only low-power radiation, mind you. Our idea was to reduce your strength and skills just enough to give the drones a good run-through without hurting you or you destroying them immediately at the start of the test. And actually, it all went fine at first.”

“Well, wasn’t that peachy for you,” Terry scorns. “Too bad about Supergirl’s wound and the men’s. It didn’t look like they were clued into things though. In fact, they looked terrified. And they were badly hurt…”

“For which they received double pay and for which they volunteered.”

“Not knowing what they were volunteering for. Or me, for that matter,” Supergirl interjects. “Why were you afraid to tell me what was going on, General? I could have pulled my punches and still have given the drones a fair test.”

“That wouldn’t have been a ‘fair’ experiment design, of either yours or the men’s reactions or, frankly, the drones’ true defensive capabilities. We needed a real-world field experience, one true to nature. And that worked fine. You did a great job giving our drones a full field test and the Army is very grateful to you for how you conducted yourself. Well, except for the one you smashed, of course. That cost your country about $750,000 by the way!”

“Like the Pentagon cuts coupons,” Terry snipes. “Come on, General Daniels, be real. You guys spend over $130 million on a single fighter jet. Having one little drone go down doesn’t even make an interesting story on the cocktail circuit.”

“Perhaps,” the man acknowledges with a wave of his hand as he leans forward in his chair towards the two women to make another point. “But as to the men’s wounds, yes, they were first degree burns but they’ll all heal and will even receive plastic surgery if need be. And Supergirl’s wound? Well, that’s almost gone entirely I see.” He nods at the inner thigh of Supergirl’s crossed legs and everyone looks to see only the faintest white line remaining where once an angry red welt had been. “The shot to your chest also must be healed as well I assume?”

Supergirl’s hand goes to her wet breast, rubbing it slightly to feel where she’d been shot. Her hand comes away slightly damp and Kara nods with a frown of acknowledgement. She’d felt both wounds rapidly diminishing just after she’d cooked the red sun toggle switch. As she suspected, the small blister and patch of angry skin are completely gone, the surface as smooth as it once was.

“The hole is still there though,” Terry jerks her thumb at her companion’s chest, grasping at straws.

“Can that be fixed?” Daniels calmly asks the blonde.

“It takes a bit of doing but yes it can,” Supergirl glumly accedes. “My cousin has a device we use for repairs.”

“So, no harm, no foul then?”

“I’d hardly say that, General Daniels,” Supergirl sparks back, her temper flaring. “Having the military use me for involuntary target practice to ensure their weapons are up to snuff is not acceptable by any means! I do a lot for this country! I’ve protected it and its citizens countless times and this is how the top brass repays me? You can be sure I’ll give the president an earful about this despicable abuse of my trust.”

“Oh, the President signed off on this exercise, little lady.”

Flabbergasted, the blonde’s jaw drops and she sputters her astonished reply, “Y..y…you can’t b..be…serious?!”

“You don’t think so?” The general reaches into his pants pocket, takes out his key ring and unlocks his righthand desk drawer. Supergirl watches him closely, knowing the gun’s in there, awaiting any sudden move. Slowly the general extracts a single sheet of paper, picks it up by his fingertips, reaches over the desk and arrogantly dangles it in front of her face. The heroine leans back, away from the scornfully-rattled paper, and scans it quickly. Terry leans in quickly to read it for herself. Both women’s faces drain of some color as they note the brightly-colored presidential seal imprinted and embossed at the bottom of the page and the familiar signature just below it.

“When it comes to being 100% confident that our forces have the best support on the planet, you better believe he and we are dead serious, missy,” the general pontificates as he puts the document back in the desk. “From technology to intelligence, those who serve this nation come first,” the man declares, sternly pointing his finger at Supergirl. He then leans over his desk again, trying to impose his presence on them like a club. “That’s something you should keep in mind, little lady.”

“You can honestly look Supergirl in the eye and tell her she hasn’t served this country?” Terry’s anger boils over in her biting tone and flushed face. She’s leaning forward now in her chair, both palms gripping the armrests, her knuckles white.

“I suppose she’s done her part…for what she is,” Daniels replies dismissively, settling back in his chair again.

Terry glares at the man with pure disdain. His placid turn of the head and phony smile at her turns up the heat on her anger. Then she collects herself, concentrates on her job and poses a straightforward question at the older man. “So, what went wrong, General. You said things went awry out there. When did your little test jump the rails for real?”

“Honestly?” Daniels hesitates, rocking back in his chair a bit, thinking.

“If you’re capable of it,” Terry pounces verbally, receiving a glare from the man.

“The drones were never supposed to shift into high power mode. That was much too dangerous for Supergirl’s weakened condition, and it could have killed the men if they hadn’t made their escape by then.”

“Your empathy would be more comforting if I believed a word of it, General,” Supergirl scoffs. “While I was out there getting abused by your drones, I didn’t see you or any of your technicians pausing or hindering them in any way.”

“It wasn’t for lack of trying! I told you the shutdown sequence wasn’t instantaneous, that it could take several minutes.” The officer’s hands are raised, palms out denying any responsibility. “Fact is, Lieutenant Mezwani did everything he possibly could to abort the program. You were very lucky he was finally able to get through in time after the drones switched to full power mode, young lady. Any longer and you might not be sitting here.”

“If you’re expecting a thank you, General, it may be a while,” Supergirl growls. “Any clue as to why the drones shifted up in power?”

“They were programmed to, of course,” Daniels admits. “Captain Shavers there did it. It was above Mezwani’s clearance.”

Terry half turns to look at the smiling captain who is showing a twinkle of pride in his eyes. “Wait! You’re admitting that the Army purposely put Supergirl’s life and those of its soldiers in mortal danger?”

“Mortal danger? No, of course not,” Daniels sits up now, folding his hands together and laying them on the desktop as the young reporter turns back to him. “No, Shavers only programmed in that first shift from low power to mid-range power, and to allow targeting of pronounced heat signatures. That was the plan as designed and presented to the president. Now we need to look through the drones’ black boxes and the software attack record to determine why it shifted up to high power. My guess it’s a coding loop interference, but that’s just a hunch.”

“So, that’s it? We’re done here?” Supergirl’s hands now grip her chair’s armrests. “You actually expect me to forgive and forget all this?”

“I doubt that you…or any of us…will forget that little episode out there any time soon, Supergirl,” the gray-haired officer taunts. “Based on your conspicuous reaction to those repetitive early drone strikes at mid-power, you found it a very… shall we say…exhilarating experience. In fact, the army’s weapon’s specialists will be extensively analyzing the video recording of the test. Your body’s unmistakably orgasmic response to those laser beams will become required viewing at West Point for years to come, I suspect.”

The general’s galling wink at her gets the blonde heroine springing out of her chair instantaneously. She’s no longer dripping, having finally dried off, but still there could be steam coming out of her ears. She leans in over the desk toward the general, her fist shaking at him. He merely pushes back on his chair at a comfortable angle and gives her a lecherous smile.

“General, you are a total disgrace to that uniform! I will be reporting you to your superior, your Chief of Staff. Come on, Terry, let’s get out of here.”

She glances at her friend whose eyes have gone wide with one hand up to her mouth while the other is pointing at Supergirl’s chest. Looking down, the young woman sees her nipple poking through the laser hole in her costume, the pink nub prominently showcased by the field of blue surrounding it. Her hasty motion out of her chair had bounced her breasts enough to shift the nipple into the hole and catch there. The general’s eyes twinkle with delight at the view. The heroine’s face goes beet red as she quickly grabs her own boob and shifts it so the nipple goes back into hiding inside her shirt.

Growling now, Supergirl repeats her request, “Terry, come on. Let’s go. I need fresh air and you have a story to file.” Terry stands up, about to join the red-faced blonde in her exit.

“Not so fast, ladies,” the general announces, rising from his chair as well. “I can’t let Ms. Sykes leave here with her notes. This really WAS a classified test and my superiors, neither the Chief of Staff nor the Commander in Chief himself, would want me to let you print information about our drone program that could compromise its future effectiveness.”

“So why invite me here in the first place?” Terry asks, confused, rooted to the floor.

“As cover. We absolutely needed Supergirl here for this test and the contact through the Sentinel was the best way to do it on short notice. So, thank Linda Danvers for me. Now, your notes, please, Ms. Sykes,” the stern-faced commander says, holding out his palm for her notebook. “Plus, I have a seven-page non-disclosure form I will need you both to sign.”

“You’re not getting my notes! And as for that form, you can take it and shove it up your butt, General,” Terry snaps. “That wasn’t the deal here and you know it. The free press still means something in this country!”

“Let me be clear! You will not be allowed to leave here until you both sign those forms,” Daniels states categorically, nodding at his two soldiers. They step side-by-side in front of the door with their arms folded menacingly.

Supergirl walks up to them casually as can be and stands before them, matching their formidable pose with one of her own, arms akimbo, fists on her hips. “You really want to do this, boys? Someone could get hurt.”
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flirty_but_nice
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Dr. D, you have me on the edge of my seat, darlin, waiting for more!
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Well things have gotten really feisty really fast! What's next ?!
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brdiy
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Someone could get hurt alright, and something tells me it's not gonna be those soldier boys.

Gotta love the attention to detail here.
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twd32
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Damn, those cliffhangers!

Methinks the general has another ace up his sleeve!
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Fantastic. Love the barely subdued misogyny.
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Chapter 7

Supergirl stands in front of the two large, unmoving guards and watches their tenacious facial expressions with a tinge of surprise. Normally people trembled when she threatened them. Either the training of these two was remarkable or something else was in play here. Arnie Shavers’ broad Teutonic features, with his brush cut blonde hair and defined jawline, were only slightly tensed. The tall captain’s blue eyes showed only watchful defiance. The same look occupied Sergeant Kyle Bernard’s deep brown eyes. His shorter stature revealed only a powerful readiness to uncoil, the bulging biceps stretching his uniform’s sleeves, his body poised to engage. The brunette eyebrows were arched, the head still.

“If General Daniels says you girls don’t leave without signing the forms then that’s what happens,” announces Bernard.

“You two may take orders from the General but we don’t. Either you move aside voluntarily or I’ll move you myself,” the determined heroine warns. They stand their ground and Supergirl gives a final sigh. And then she goes to work! Both arms shoot outward, her palms quickly gripping the men’s throats under their jawlines. They choke loudly, their mouths dropping open, their eyes bulging as she squeezes down, preparing to lift them off the floor and toss them to either side. Both men grab her forearms trying to pry her off them, their expressions transforming from insolence to outright alarm.

These guys are only doing their duty but I warned them.

The Kryptonian marvel doesn’t easily lifts the men off their feet. She doesn’t toss them aside like dolls. She doesn’t do anything but stand in place straining, her face going white with shock.

I don’t under…

Both men let go of each of Supergirl’s arms with one hand while continuing to hold up each extended arm with their other hand. With her suddenly and securely positioned, each man unleashes a thumping punch simultaneously to the restrained heroine’s vulnerable stomach.

“GUUUUNNHHH!!”

Supergirl’s lungs empty out in a blast of air and she collapses, sagging in place, held up on rubber legs by the two smiling guards. All their choking and gasping, their panicked gripping of her arms. It had all been a smartly-planned ruse. Somehow, in some way, the mighty Maid of Steel had been drained of her power.

“Supergirl!” Terry’s frightened shout is accompanied by concerned action. She advances toward her drooping friend to somehow help her with the guards. She gets only two steps closer before General Daniels brings the retrieved gun from the unlocked drawer down hard on the back of the reporter’s head. The chubby woman’s body pitches face forward, landing on the floor, completely inert. The general puts the gun back in the drawer and pushes it shut. He didn’t want things to get out of control at this point. He’s following his ingenious plan.

“…h…h….how…?...” Supergirl murmurs weakly, still trying to regain her breath.

After walking around Terry Sykes’ splayed body, Daniels grabs a fistful of blonde hair and tilts Supergirl’s face all the way back so she’s looking directly up at his triumphant smile. He seems far away to the dazed woman.

“Infrared light, you dumb bitch! Just like with the red lamps, I employed the same wavelengths that cause such you to lose all those special skills of yours. The thing is, these babies,” the general gestures at the ceiling with his free hand, “operate just outside the visual spectrum. The real kicker? My lamps throw off three times the radiation power of the red ones out in the command room.” Leaning close, the general taunts her, his spittle peppering her cheeks as he gloats, “I stalled you more than enough, champ. Your powers are gone!”

“…p…president…couldn’t have…signed off on… this…”

“Nope, this part is all my doing.” Peering at the grimacing blonde’s face, the general glares at his captive, his voice filled with venom now. “I paid for these infrared lamps and I planned this special session here in my office and I and my two friends here are going to fuck your shit up, as they say these days. The army was kind enough to lay the groundwork, I’m just taking it to another level.”

With some of her wind recovered, Supergirl attempts to pull herself out of the powerful grip of the two large soldiers, yanking futilely against their iron hold, much to all three men’s amusement. Opening his fist, the general lets go of the clump of blonde hair, steps back and declares, “Let her go. This room is very well sound-proofed. This should be entertaining.”

As soon as the two soldiers release her, Kara rushes over to Terry, kneeling by her side. “If you’ve hurt her badly, Daniels, there won’t be a hole deep enough for you to hide in!”

“Ohhhh,” the reporter moans dully while her friend checks her head, finding a large lump raised there.

“Why would you think I’d be the one hiding, you stupid girl. You’re the one who’s in trouble here.”

“I’ve done nothing to you, Daniels,” Supergirl shoots back. “What is this all about?”

The general’s face goes dark, his expression grim as Supergirl watches him. Then everyone’s attention is drawn to Terry as she sluggishly works herself up to a squat, tries to stand and abruptly plops down on her butt, back on the floor. She groans aloud before mumbling, “..his son… think this is about you putting away his son….”

“Well, well, the reporter actually does her job well,” Daniels says, looking down at the wavering brunette. “You really did your background work on me, Sykes. I’m impressed.”

“I put his son away?” Supergirl tries to draw the name Daniels out of her foggy thoughts. “Me? When?”

“Four years ago, cunt! And he was innocent!” An enraged Daniels charges at the quickly rising blonde, aiming yet again for her vulnerable belly with his driving fist. “And now you pay!”

Even without her amazing powers, Supergirl has decent boxing and martial arts skills from some training with Batman. She parries the tall middle-aged man’s punch with an effective blocking maneuver and quick twisting motion that pushes his arm to the side, missing her abdomen and screwing up his balance. She counters with quick twist back to center and then a punishing right cross that catches the general’s cheek straight on, knocking his face sideways and hurting her knuckles. Still, Kara smiles slightly as her opponent straightens up then backs up.
Daniels is unnerved, his legs wobbly. He shakes his head, thickly thinking the bitch should have been easier but that he has his two bodyguards for this. He waves them in, taking a deep breath and steadying himself against a credenza placed against the wall directly across from the desk.

Supergirl’s smile fades immediately when she sees the two large soldiers step toward her. She is a decent enough fighter but this is a very tall order for her without any superpowers whatsoever. Nevertheless, she does a very fast high leg kick, swinging for the shorter man’s chin with the heel of her shiny red boot. He bends back and away though and Supergirl does a full 360-degree turn in place when she misses so her balance isn’t thrown off.

Only having faced one opponent in her training with Bruce though, the heroine only has a second to be pleased at recalling her balance training after the failed leg kick. When she spins back into place, her face smacks hard into Captain Shavers’ own raised leg kick and that is the end of any real fight from the Maid of Steel. The blow from the instep of his boot knocks Supergirl’s face and body in the direct opposite direction of her own spin, wrenching her around and sending her flailing backward and falling against a shakily standing Terry Sykes. The two of them manage to prevent the other from falling but Terry clings on to her friend and sees nothing but a blank stare. Supergirl is running on empty and the reporter is stunned the girl is still standing, even with her support.

At the office door, General Daniels and Staff Sergeant Bernard watch in pleased appreciation at the beat down Arnie is handing out to the supposedly invincible Maid of Steel.

The blonde shakes her head in the hold of the reporter and a semblance of awareness returns to the baby blues. They take in the fear in Terry’s eyes and the heroine tries to bolster them both with her bravado.

“Dun’t whurry. I god this,” Supergirl mumbles. Her wink is more of a blinking stutter over her bruised cheek, as she turns to face her opponents once again. Her resolve is deep.

They won’t beat me, I am Super…

The bitch slap from Captain Shavers came from way back and when it connects the blonde reels away in a flailing spin, falling to one knee yet managing to stay in a hunched but upright position with her back to him, her cape draped over her shoulders, her head bowed. Somewhere off behind her, Terry is shouting her name.

…stay up…show no fear…use their weight against….

“WRAAAALGKK!”

Dragged harshly backward across three feet of flooring by her cape, Supergirl’s bootheels scrape against the wood. Her arms flail forward, her palms drawing circles in the air as her face reddens and her eyes grow hugely wide. She fears falling backward until she is finally yanked against a firm surface. Unfortunately for her, that surface is Sergeant Bernard. And he’s wrapping the cape around her neck with one hand even as his other is palming her breast and squeezing it hard, pinning her body against his. She can actually feel the thick member in his pants pushing against the crack in her butt cheeks. Her dress provides a barrier to everything but the urgent heat of him.

He yanks back hard on the cape, trying to subdue the heroine with a fabric choke hold. His fist is set firmly against the back of her head and the cape material is tightly wound around Supergirl’s throat. He pulls on the red material hard enough to depress the skin, probably leaving red bands in her yielding flesh beneath. The brilliant blue eyes flutter as air gets more and more precious.

“Settle down, honey, the fight’s over, you lost,” he puffs in her ear.

“The hell I have,” squawks the Kryptonian, rearing back as hard as she can with her boot heel and kicking Bernard in his right shin.

“GEEYAAAHH!” He lets go of the cape and falls off to the side, bending over to grab at the torn pants and white gash on his exposed leg. The gash will turn red in moments. Supergirl brings both hands together over her head in a doubled fist, ready to club the sergeant senseless with a telling blow. Those joined hands are suddenly pinned tightly together in the air above her and she is roughly wrenched in a circle with her feet flying out with momentary centrifugal force until she faces a madly grinning Captain Shavers.

“Oh no!” Terry’s fear for her friend has her suddenly sweeping up the silver candy dish off the general’s desk. She hurls it a Sergeant Bernard’s head in an effort to at least take one adversary out of the fight. He ducks in time just as the silver weapon flies past his head, hits the top edge of the credenza and scatters hard wrapped candy pieces all over the room. Dashing from his position near the door, General Daniels sprints past the costumed hero grappling with Arnie and bull rushes the reporter. He knocks her against the desk, over its corner onto the floor with a loud thump. He stands over the groaning woman who’s grabbing her back and writhing in torment.

Hearing Terry’s alarm and then her groans of pain, Supergirl’s once bright flare of success is doused with the cold realization that not only can’t she defeat these men but that they’re more than capable of severely hurting not only her but Terry as well.

As if to emphasize that point for her, Shavers crushes Kara’s immobilized hands in his own until pain twists her face into a grimace. With her own knuckles forcibly grinding against each other, she desperately tries to pull her hands apart for relief, but the tall army captain won’t allow it. Tears spring to her eyes as her hands shake with agony. The grunting beauty pushes with all her strength to escape this torturous hold and suddenly there’s no resistance from her captor. Supergirl’s arms fly apart only to be forced down and immediately pinned to her sides by a crushing bear hug from Shavers. His fists grab together in the small of her back and he begins to tighten down, slowly and surely.

To eliminate any leverage, he lifts his smaller opponent off her feet and sways her back and forth several times. His arms band around her completely, forcing air from her desperate lungs. She looks down at him as he holds her up and squeezes away with powerful arms. The renowned heroine wriggles desperately, trying to heave her body back and forth. It’s fruitless: without her powers she is far too light and he too strong for her to break free of his hold. He continues to squeeze, digging his fists into her back with such force that Supergirl moans pitifully.

“…let her go…you… bastards…!” Terry whines plaintively. She is propping herself up in a sideways pushup, the pain etching lines in her face even as she pleads for her friend. “She’s done nothing to you!”

“Shut up, you fat cow,” Daniels says, kicking out Sykes’ arms so she falls back to the carpet. He gives her head a quick kick for good measure and the woman takes up a fetal position. She curls up on her side, her back to the desk front, one arm wrapped over her head, the other around her stomach, trying to protect herself. When she does this, the general walks behind her, then around his desk. He swings aside a commendation plaque hinged to the wall and quickly dials the combination to the safe behind it. That done, he opens the safe and pulls out a few items, quickly stuffing them in separate pockets in the jacket of his dress uniform.

Still in the merciless hold of Shavers’ clenching arms, a weakening Supergirl desperately tries to head butt him but the man expects it. He pulls his head back and to the side so that the famous beauty’s forehead merely slaps into the side of Shavers neck, jamming her own neck and giving herself an uncomfortable tingle. In fact, the lithe woman’s body is becoming quite flaccid in the Captain’s bear hug. She puts her palms against his hips and tries feebly to press his arms apart with the only leverage she has now but it’s a completely useless effort.

“What’s the matter, girlie,” Shavers taunts, “don’t you like being my main squeeze?”

“…leggo…me…” gasps Supergirl with a pained whisper. Her calves ineptly waver in the air, her boots tips glancing impotently against Shaver’s legs.

“…supergirl…behind you…look out…” Terry calls from inside her protective shell, her voice muffled by the carpet. “Kick him.”
Unsure of which ‘him’ Terry means, Supergirl tries kicking her legs in all directions but General Daniels easily sidesteps the pathetic defensive attempt even as she weakens from yet another squeeze of powerful fists in her back.

“…uuunnnhhhh….” Her long moan is just as pitiful as her limp kicks.

Suddenly Supergirl feels the material of her dress shift, the hem lifted and cool air against her rear.

“What? Hey! Wait…don’t…”

To Supergirl’s absolute horror, her shiny blue panties are yanked down around her thighs. Even more air caresses her now totally bare bottom.

“..no…!....don’t…what are you doing?”

“A little insurance policy, Supergirl,” Daniels coos in her ear from directly behind her. “I want you nice and cooperative at all times.”

“You said you had no kryptonite,” whines the blonde icon. “You promised!”

“Did I?” The general replies with a quizzical tone even as he reaches into his pocket for a tiny jar that he quickly opens. “Did I say that?”
With her eyes like saucers and her head half-turned, Supergirl watches the general with pure dread until he reaches over and presses her head down and way, burying her face in Shaver’s shoulder so she can’t see what he’s doing.

A cool ointment is pressed between Supergirl’s sumptuously curved butt cheeks and carefully spread against her anus. Daniels’ firm finger smears an ample dollop of the salve all around the heroine’s pale pink balloon knot before the fingertip enters her hole up to its first knuckle and sweeps the orifice with a final lingering caress before withdrawing.

Rendered completely defenseless now, Supergirl’s eyes well over with salty despair at what’s happening. A smooth waxy tube of some sort is slowly pressed through the gap in her tush, unhurriedly inserted into her rear end and gradually forced up her rectum. Just when the heroine thinks the job is done, she feels a much wider object at the end of tube being shoved into her. Her eyes blink rapidly at this new intrusion, feeling a twinge of discomfort as the item stretches the edges of her anus until it passes through and the hole closes tight, sealing the tube inside her in no uncertain terms. Whatever had been jammed up her ass was long and invasive but not at all painful to her. The heroine is almost gratified.

It’s not kryptonite. It’s not kryptonite after all! Thank Rao!!

But wait…..if it’s not that….


“…what…what is it?....what … does it do?” Her voice quivers at the unknown even as the emotional roller coaster has her thankful the general kept his word about the kryptonite.

“It’s just a double dose Xanax enema, blondie,” The general explains. “Can’t have you fighting back at inopportune times.” He nods at Staff Sergeant Bernard who limps over toward the desk and stands over the whimpering Terry Sykes. The general takes two bags from his pocket and hands one to Bernard. “The wax is pretty fast acting. It should melt down and fill your system with all kinds of mellow by the time you both wake up.”

“…whut…wake up…?...whaddaya mean…?...” Supergirl asks, already feeling a bit disoriented from her ordeal, the bearhug from Shavers and possibly the drug in her ass.

Two clean white cloth handkerchiefs come out of the sealed plastic bags and the sweet smell of chloroform tinges the air.

“Both?” Terry murmurs.

One cloth is pressed against Supergirl’s face by the general while the sergeant clamps the other over the nose and mouth of the frantic reporter. Unrelenting hands braced at the back of their skulls render the two women’s heads immobile while the tranquillizing drug saps their consciousness. The unavoidable wooziness is evident very quickly. First the famous blue eyes flutter and dart and roll, then finally glaze over before the eyelids drop shut. The brown eyes of the pinned reporter follow suit. A final breathy wheeze of despair sifts out from the young woman as the general’s plan moves into its next phase.

Daniels looks closely at the world famous blonde heroine hanging limply in the hold of his loyal Captain, her head now slumped against his shoulder, her eyes closed. With her cape draped off to her side, the hem of her disheveled dress tucked into the belt and her panties yanked down to her thighs, Supergirl looks nothing like a champion. The general is pleased with the view, one he’s created by his force of will and his ingenuity. The haughty bitch had ruined his son’s life and now he would ruin hers. It was only right.
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brdiy
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Great read! Looks like it's all downhill for Supergirl from here on in.
Check out my superheroine-related short stories here:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/brdiy/works
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ksire_99
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Her emotional roller coaster is fixin' to get a whole lot more bumpy!
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DrDominator9
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Chapter 8

IMPORTANT NOTE: Just a heads up, dear readers. This chapter contains some very abusive behavior towards our heroine, including a variety of forced sex scenes. You have been fairly warned.



Terry Sykes floats back up to consciousness with a nasty headache and a long, muffled moan. There’s something obstructing her mouth and her head hurts in two places: at her left temple and in the back, just behind the crown. When she thinks to try to reach there to massage it, she can’t. Her arms are restrained behind her back. She feels something holding her ankles, binding them to the chair legs. The reporter dully lifts her head off her chest and opens her eyes. Six feet away from her she sees Supergirl tied to a chair in the same position as herself. Terry lets out a whimper that’s half sympathy and half despair.

A ball gag is strapped around her friend’s head, her pearly teeth clamped down against the fat red rubber orb. The blonde head dully wobbles on an unsteady neck. Supergirl’s eyes are half open, her expression vacant. All four once-powerful limbs have all been securely tied down, the wrists to the chair’s arms, the ankles to its legs. Supergirl’s thighs are spread wide, her dress hiked up. Her panties are pulled to their limit, the heroine’s shins wrapped in bright blue bands of fabric. Taut stretch lines in the material glimmer in the light. Between her friend’s knees, Supergirl’s genitals are fully exposed, the small, curly blonde triangle unable to shelter the gleaming pink folds beneath. Terry looks down at her own spread-eagled thighs. She spots a hint of yellow beneath her skirt and realizes her own panties are neatly in place and has a selfish thought.

At least I’m covered. And a foolish one after that. And I’m wearing clean underwear. And mere moment after that… We have to escape!

“Ssprrgghhl! Ake ub! Oooh Oaagay?” Terry tries to wriggle her arms and legs free but it’s hopeless. Each limb is well-wrapped in coiled white rope just like Kara’s. She gives up trying. From way off to her left she hears Daniels chuckling and turns her head to see him and Shavers and Bernard sitting around a small round conference table. His smirking face turns to her.

“If the great and mighty Maid of Steel can’t break out of those ropes, Ms. Skykes, it’s pretty obvious you don’t stand a chance. I suggest you just relax like your friend there and let me and my men go about our business.”

“Uuuhd ooh annhd?”

“What do I want? Merely justice, young woman.” Daniels stands up, saunters over toward the tightly bound heroine and places his palms on both her shoulders. “Righteous justice served up cold to this heartless bitch!”

“General,” Sergeant Bernard speaks up. “We’re still on schedule but…”

“Yes, you’re right, Kyle, our time is not unlimited. Mezwani may get curious if we run too long. So, what do I want, Ms. Sykes? I want Supergirl to experience the same humiliating experience that my son endured the very last night before he was scheduled to be released from prison. A going away gift you might call it from his fellow inmates. A ruthless attack on him in the shower room by three men. He was beaten senseless, forced to suck their dicks with a shiv at his back and then gang raped. I got access to the whole report. Very thorough. Very precise.”

Daniels begins to pace back and forth behind the heroine. “I even spoke to my son about it after his release. It’s only fair that Supergirl wallows in the same emotions he felt. The unbearable shame. The inescapable horror. The incapacitating fear.” Shaking his fist behind the bound blonde’s back, the general is working himself up. Even though his bitter words are clipped short and softly uttered, they resonate with chilly menace.

“Now, let me be clear about what I want from you, Supergirl.” He walks around the captive hero and squats down with his hand on his knees as he faces the dazed beauty from a mere two feet away. “Unconditional surrender.”

…surrender…to what..?...what’s he….want me…to do…?

Kara is troubled she can’t think clearly. Her brain is so fuzzy. She can’t gather her thoughts.

“NNNHHH!” Terry’s muffled cry of defiance and anguish at the general’s terms turns his head. Supergirl merely tilts her like a dog. He rises with the calm certainty of a man in complete control. Walking over to the desk, he removes the Browning 22 from the drawer and holds it with the barrel pointing at the ceiling. Reaching deeper into the drawer with his right hand, he takes out a silencer and deftly screws it onto the end of the gun barrel.

The heroine’s eyes lose a bit of their glaze and stare at his hands with concern. When that barrel is placed against Terry’s left temple, Supergirl’s head slowly begins to rotate back and forth, a vague appeal for mercy with listless energy.

“It’s been well-established today that you girls are good friends,” Daniels declares. “You kid each other, you banter, you have each other’s backs. It’s all very noble. So, Supergirl, you’re going to do the noble thing and save your good friend’s life by doing everything I tell you to do, right?”

…no way…to get out…of this…no choice…no options…

The head shaking becomes head nodding; just as slow, just as lethargic. The drugs have eliminated the heroine’s defiance as effectively as the circumstances that the cunning general has arranged. With the gun to her head, Terry’s eyes show genuine fear. She’s also mortified. Because of her, Supergirl is going to be forced to do unspeakable acts, withstand horrific indignities. The general promised that.

The reporter doesn’t doubt it for a moment.

That tone in his voice, his coldness, the look in the eyes of his men over there. They’re going to do awful, awful things.

“Excellent. Let’s get started. Oh, but first a word of caution, ladies. These walls are soundproofed but not perfectly so,” the general motions the gun around the room momentarily before pressing it once more against Terry’s left temple. “If you shout or cry out when your ball gag is removed, Supergirl, I will put a bullet into Ms Sykes’ head here and turn the wall behind her into a Jackson Pollack masterpiece. Is that understood?”

Jackson Pollack?...I don’t…get it…who is...oh…60s artist…splattered paint guy…

Finally, another slow nod gives the general his answer. Captain Shavers sees this affirmation, gets up, walks over behind Supergirl, and unbuckles the harness that keeps the ball secure. He has to instruct the dimwitted champion to open her mouth wider so he can remove the ball. When she does, he hands off the contraption to the quickly-rising Sergeant Bernard who drops it on the small conference table with a clank and sits back down.

“Turn your head, champ,” the general commands from his position beside Terry, his eyes shining with eager anticipation. “It’s time to give Captain Shavers a long, slow blowjob.”

Looking up at the general, Supergirl’s half-lidded eyes slowly blink with a torpid awareness of the order she’s been given. She casts a glance down at Terry’s face but her friend’s eyes are lowered, her chin quivering. When the blonde turns her head to her left, her cheek slaps against the warmth of Shaver’s penis, already out, hard and waiting.

“Open wide, Supergirl,” Shavers taunts. “I’m told I’m a lot of man.”

He’s not wrong.

Vexed and uncertain, the world-renowned heroine compresses her lips when Shavers presses the warm tip of his dick against them. The scent of him fills her nostrils. He smells clean enough but she still feels slightly disgusted. She even turns her head to the left before Shavers reaches down, palms her skull and turns it back to face him, forcing his member against the tight pink flesh of her unyielding mouth. She pulls back just an inch and that aggravates the commanding officer.

“Say your goodbyes to your friend, bitch. You just signed her death warrant,” General Daniels declares, sighing loudly.

“…wait………stop...” Supergirl says, caving. “…look…” She opens wide, tilts her head far forward in a desperate jerk that displays lousy muscle control. She takes the mushroom head of Shavers’ penis deep in her mouth. “I’b doing itd,” she slurs through the dick. From her right there is a click as Staff Sergeant Bernard captures the moment on his cell phone for posterity of the idolized heroine’s cheek bulging with cock.

The general lets up on his pressure of the Browning against the reporter’s temple but continues to hold it in place. “Okay, champ. Go on! Show us what you can do. Entertain us.”

Supergirl wide eyes glisten with tears but she nods her head slowly at the order.

…have to…do this…for Terry...

The famous Last Daughter of Krypton draws back, centers the penis on her tongue and pushes forward slowly again, forcing herself to take the warm gland deep in her mouth. She gets the whole head in and almost half of the dick before pulling back. With this measured length locked in her dull mind, she begins to rapidly bob her head forward and back, sucking in her cheeks and just going all out, trying to get the horrific act over with. The chair is rocking slightly as Supergirl’s head moves like a piston. Shavers’ prick is spit shined, it’s veins bulging, the shaft iron hard, in mere moments. Several more clicks of Bernard’s cell phone during the action freeze a variety of moments of the heroine’s outrageous oral humiliation.

“Whoa! Whoa,” the Captain suddenly exclaims, grabbing the blonde’s head in his palms and stopping the frenzy with a jolting grip. He forces Supergirl’s face back so she disgorges his meat. She settles back in the wooden chair, her perplexed blue eyes looking up at him as her mouth just hangs open stupidly. “Take it down, bitch,” Shavers commands. “This pole’s not going anywhere.”

“…but…showin’ you…whut I…ken do…” she murmurs.

“And I appreciate your dedication but,” Shavers says, bows low into the drugged woman’s face and enunciates, “Do…It…Slower…Moron.” He then straightens up and waits.

Terry’s eyes leak with sympathy at her friend’s plight. But so too does her crotch a bit. As desperate as this situation is, she’s been aroused at the unbelievable scene of the huge fleshy pole being taken halfway in over and over and over again by Supergirl’s mouth.
“Lick. His. Dick, blondie,” the Staff Sergeant calls out slowly with a lecherous leer.

Terry watches the confused heroine open her soft lips and sees the tongue snake out, straining to reach the cleft tip of Shavers’ penis. He steps closer for her convenience and his ultimate satisfaction. The short pink serpent flips petulantly at the tip for a hesitant taste and then languidly flattens against the head of the shaft, rubbing it with a slow, drawing pass as it curls around the purplish helmet. It then retracts and extends in a slowly repeated dance, an extremely lackluster attempt at fellatio.

“Haven’t you ever given head before, dopey?” Shavers asks, annoyed. “You’re either way too fast or way too slow. Doesn’t seem like you have a clue.”

“Jeth wonth,” the girl from the stars admits, the flat of her tongue rubbing against the cleft tip once again, trying to please the man but finding it beyond her mental capacity at the moment.

“General, this isn’t working,” the Captain announces. “Any suggestions?”

“Untie her hands,” he calls over. “Let’s see how she works when she’s less constrained. Just keep in mind, Supergirl, that your friend’s life hangs by a thread over here.”

Supergirl nods with her tongue out, still in contact with his dick. This actually gives Shavers a quick thrill but he stills shakes his head with disdain. He then bends over to untie the coiled white rope pinning the captive woman’s arms to the chair. The knots are tight but simple and it doesn’t take long before the confounded blonde heroine is absently rubbing her wrists to get circulation back in them.

“Now gently fondle my balls with one hand and take hold of the base of my shaft with the other and start slowly sucking me off, hero,” Shavers instructs. “’Got all that?”

Supergirl slowly nods, absorbing the information slowly.

“Great!” Bernard calls out from his chair. “Let’s see how good you are at Whore 101.”

“Nnnhhh! Owwn ake er oo dis,” Terry whimpers.

“Pipe down, Dumbo. Don’t make me hurt you,” General Daniels warns, lightly grinding the silencer tip into Terry’s temple.

Supergirl does as she’s told. Using hands that could once leave finger gouges in the steel belly of an airliner like a child squeezing clay for fun, she softly cradles the Captain’s balls and fingers them with tickling brush strokes as she gently grasps the base of the man’s shaft and fills her mouth anew with his long cock.

Another click reminds the heroine that she’s being photographed but despite that she bends forward with dopey submission. She bends forward and half the penis disappears past her soft round lips. When she leans further forward, the entire penis slides deep into Supergirl’s mouth, even down past her dangling uvula. This is too much and the heroine retches loudly and pulls her body and head back with a jerk.

“…ohhh…ack... that…was…was bad….” Supergirl’s face is red and confounded.

“Oh, did the poor superhero gag herself on a big bad cock?” Shavers taunts. “I warned you I was a lot of man.

“Again, bitch,” Daniels calls from across the room. “Practice makes perfect, right, Supergirl?”

Giving the general a baleful stare and a pouting lower lip at Terry, the beautiful woman shakes her head slightly and goes back in, leaning forward and swallowing the Captain’s sword once more. She wraps one fist around the base of the shaft again while the other caresses the man’s balls. Pausing at the shaft’s halfway point, the lovely but dumbed-down champion takes a breath and stills her shaking body before continuing. This time she takes in the whole shaft, down her throat and past the back of her tongue. She sucks in her cheeks and just holds there, letting the warmth of her mouth enfold the warmth of the man’s impressive muscle.

Click. Click. Click. Bernard’s cellphone continues to record Supergirl’s ongoing degradation. The bewildered eyes and bulging throat underscore her total submission.

Terry’s knees try in vain to squeeze together while her eyes bear down on the view, not cognizant that her drool is stringing off of her blue ball gag in a silvery dangling thread.

“You may not be a lost cause after all, Supergirl,” says Shavers with a shiver when the Maid of Steel finally disgorges the long hot rod from her mouth with a dazed look and a wobbling head. There’s a dimple of clear precum on her lower lip that she absently brushes off with the back of her left hand.

“Time to up the ante, Little Miss Perfect,” Daniels declares from across the divide between them. Disturbed, Supergirl turns her head and looks at him, perplexed.

“…whut…how do…you mean?” The Xanax has ground down her keen intelligence to corn meal.

“Will you do the honor, Staff Sergeant?”

“My pleasure, sir.” Bernard stands up to retrieve something from the general’s wall safe even as Shavers packs his junk back in his pants. After that, he goes about pressing Supergirl’s wrists back onto the chair’s arms and re-tying the coils of clean white rope that end in firm knots. Terry tries to spot what the young soldier has taken out of the safe but his body blocks her line of sight. Shavers’ huge physique blocks Supergirl’s view as well. He now squats beside her, tying off the knot holding her left wrist. The puzzled look in the heroine’s eyes tells Terry that even if her friend could see what it was that Bernard had taken out of the safe, Kara might not be able to comprehend its purpose. The reporter leans back in her own chair and huffs out a loud sigh through her gag.

What new humiliation is coming your way now, Kara?

Suddenly the general grabs a clump of Terry’s hair and yanks her head so far back she’s forced to stare up into his angry features.

“Oh, is this too hard for you, fatty? You self-centered, bitch! You’re not even the one being humiliated here. You just have to watch and record the scene with those perceptive eyes of yours. Well, your eyes aren’t the only ones that can spot things. Mine couldn’t help but notice your panties there are a little damp. Enjoying your friend’s predicament, are you? Some pal you are. You seeing this over there, Supergirl? Sykes here is getting moist here watching you suffer. Maybe you should just stop doing what we ask, eh? Let me put a round in her pumpkin head, here? Teach her a lesson?”

The general pauses, savoring the torment he’s generated in both women. Both sets of eyes are spilling tears now. The general’s forefinger slides against the reporter’s left cheek, captures a silver drip and carries it to his mouth.

“Tastes like regret,” he says, smiling.

Having taken position behind Supergirl, Captain Shavers suddenly tips her chair back on two legs. Sergeant Bernard has circled the desk and now holds up the item he’d retrieved from the safe. It’s a smooth plastic vibrator, 7 inches long in Day-Glo green.

“…no....not that…” Supergirl groans. “You said…no…”

“…Kryptonite. And I meant it, you ignorant twat,” Daniels explains from behind Terry’s chair. “But you’re right, it’s the same color as kryptonite.”

Bernard walks closer to the bound champion coming to a stop before her. The two soldiers hover over the helpless heroine, virtually licking their chops as the general mocks her.
“If it were the real stuff,” Daniels continues, “you’d be feeling weak as a kitten and sick as a dog with a piece of your home world that size so close. Do you feel nauseous and weak, little lady? Huh?”

“..i…no…i don’t…”

“Therefore?”

“…lamps…they.. cured me…?..”

“Oh boy! You really ARE the blondest blonde on Planet Earth,” Daniels says, shaking his head. “Too dumb to even put two and two together!”

“Aanaggs!” Terry yells through her ball gag.

“The Xanax? Really? I’m not so sure, sweetheart,” the general says patting the reporter’s cheek. “But sure, okay, let’s give her the benefit of the doubt. In any case, it may not be kryptonite, stupid girl, but that doesn’t mean my toy there won’t make you feel weak...in the knees. Gentlemen,” Daniels nods at them.

As Arnie Shavers tilts the chair back a bit further, holding it securely in place on its back two legs, Kyle Bernard squats down before the captive blonde. He slides his hand under Supergirl’s crotch and lifts her body up slightly, angling it upward with one hand as his other slowly guides the carefully positioned rounded tip of the plastic green dildo at the opening of the nether lips of the spaced-out heroine.

“…not right…you…doing this…” she murmurs.

Click! Daniels’ cell phone secures the moment that Supergirl’s twat is about to be violated.

Pressing the dildo into the exposed woman’s pussy, Sergeant Bernard quickly finds the the area far too dry, the cavity stubborn. He pulls the tip out of the fleshy pink crease and leans his face forward. The chair is tipped a bit further back by Shavers while the sergeant works up a huge gob of saliva. That done, Kyle spits a fat dollop right into Supergirl’s crotch.

“Puuuh-tewwy.”

Using his fat fingers, the smirking soldier uses his forefinger to spread the slimy ball all around the inside of Supergirl’s cooze.

“Your girlfriend here wouldn’t have needed any moistening, champ,” Daniels announces from behind Skyes’ chair as he squats down and places his palm between the reporter’s thighs. He has to raise his voice to be heard over her muffled squeal. “Her panties here are nice and damp.” The general pulls his hand away and rubs it on Terry’s left breast before standing up.

When Bernard presents the tip of the Day-Glo dildo once more to the Maid of Steel’s pussy, there is no iron will, no clenched muscles, no opposition of any kind from the chemically addled beauty. The sex tool slides right in a good four inches. The sergeant then works it further forward with cool patience, pressing the green shaft all the way into the restrained heroine’s channel until just an inch and a half extends out, the round end with its tiny black slide switch ready and waiting to be turned on. A mere modicum of moaning from Supergirl has accompanied this entire procedure but when the Staff Sergeant slides that switch on, she suddenly grunts and jerks her hips at the strong vibrations coursing through her vagina. To ensure the device can’t be expelled, Kyle quickly pulls up Supergirl’s panties, drawing them over her thighs and around her bottom entirely until they’re smoothly in place. There’s a noticeable bulge in her crotch where the protruding end of the thrumming dildo is making the fabric glimmer with its movement under the lights. He then stands up and backs off, admiring his handiwork.

Looking down at Supergirl’s face, the Captain is pleased to see her eyes drifting blankly and her mouth drawing into a pleased circle. Once again, he takes out his prick and glides his palm up and down the shaft, getting himself hard.

“How does it feel, you arrogant cunt,” General Daniels jeers, his gun hand quivering with anger, “to have no control over your body? To be helpless to resist the pleasure forced on you. Pleasure you didn’t ask for. Pleasure you can’t resist.”

His venom has him spitting and the general stops and composes himself for a moment before continuing. “My son steeped in his guilt for a long time after his attack. I can only hope you too will suffer endless pangs of regret, hero. Except multiplied ten-fold. Couldn’t happen to a more deserving soul.”

“Now,” says Captain Shavers standing menacingly overhead, “open wide, blondie. I’m anxious to fuck that pretty mouth of yours!” Saying this, he balances the tilted chair with his hands and waits for the young woman to open her mouth. After listlessly eyeing Terry, Supergirl complies, her jaw lowering slowly.

“…aaaaaahh…” she says as if lying back voluntarily in a dentist’s chair and not being forced to give a blow job to a man she’s never met before today. The semi-rigid dick flops onto her tongue and the heedless female just waits there with her mouth open, unsure of what to do.

“Well, close those lips, idiot,” the staff sergeant orders with a gust of exasperation. “Give the man some friction, slut.”

…this…isn’t fair…being…molested…made to…feel…this way…to be wet…forced to …to suck on him…darn Terry…darn them all…

Supergirl tastes the man’s essence as his fat cock rides the surface of her tongue. She can barely form full sentences in her mind. She tries to consider her options…tries desperately to think. To plan. To decide her and Terry’s fate.

Click.


So the good news is you just got a nice fresh, clean Chapter 8 of this story. The bad news is that I'm going off on vacation and you'll have to wait about 2 weeks before I return to write and post Chapter 9. So savor this one. I'll see you when I return. And don't let Tallyho burn the site to the ground while I'm gone. :unsure:
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I'm baaaackkk!


Chapter 9


The sound of the cell phone camera taking a picture of her with a man’s cock dropped on her tongue sends a brief shiver of despair through Kara. She tries to work up her rage but the double dose of Xanax flowing through her system sabotages that effort completely. She dimly understands she’s being badly used here, that she should resist but Terry is across the room with a gun to her head, she’s tightly bound to this tilted-back chair with no powers whatsoever, so really, what is the point? And besides that, the vibrator buzzing incessantly inside her trembling pussy is making her dizzy with desire, drunk with the need for sexual fulfillment.

Doing as she’s told, Supergirl closes her mouth and sucks on the Captain’s cock, slowly drawing in her cheeks and bobbing her head back and forth. Positioned as she is, Shaver’s balls gently bump against her nose with every forward push of her head, the hairs there tickling slightly. The prick grows even firmer as she swallows half his throbbing shaft again and again.

“Aauumm… aauumm…aauumm.”

The skin of the pink shaft shines with the maiden’s saliva under the bright lights. Angled backward in her tilted chair by Captain Shavers, she repeatedly takes in the soldier’s length with every nod of her head, performing her shameless act with eager subservience now. She can feel the bulging veins on his penis rubbing against her lips with every pass and she perseveres with some extra enthusiasm, goaded on by the constant humming pleasure in her loins. The famous Maid of Steel suckles willingly on the soldier’s member, awash with feminine fealty; her mind centered only on the task at hand.

“…mmmmhhh….mmmmhhh…mmmmhhh…” The mouth tightly circles, the cheeks suck, the head bobs while the blonde beauty absent-mindedly moans her way through her vulgar responsibility.

Click. Click. Click.

The sequence of her dull-eyed obedience is gleefully captured by Staff Sergeant Bernard.
“Supergirl Thanks Captain Shavers for His Service with Bighearted Blowjob.” Kyle laughs loudly at his own joke while looking at the distraught reporter to his right. “Like that caption for your paper, Sykes? You can use it. I don’t mind.”

“…athterd!” The reporter’s cursed retort just draws a second laugh from the man.

“Don’t blame Kyle or Arnie, Ms. Sykes,” counsels General Daniels, standing behind the reporter’s chair. “Make no mistake about it, it’s my careful planning that has your famous friend there submissively sucking cock. But the fault is all her own. She was the one who gathered up my son with those criminals as if he were allied with them. She was the one who couldn’t be bothered to see that he’d been coerced into driving the getaway car. She was the one who put him in jail, not only wrongly denying him his freedom for two years but also placing him in the circumstance that shattered his soul that night he was attacked.”

“…ot ‘erh ault…” Terry says through the silvery dripping ball gag, her teary eyes locked onto the scene before her of a completely defenseless Supergirl mindlessly giving head because of her.

“Of course it’s her fault! Now she’s the one tasting the full fruit of justice. And, to me, it seems she doesn’t mind the flavor of it all that much.”

“Awwlff…awwlff…awwlff…awwlff…”

“Gentlemen, make sure she climaxes in that famous cute little outfit of hers. I want her disgraceful behavior to be undeniable.”

“…leeze…on’t….” pleads Terry to no avail.

“Kyle, I’ll handle the photography while you attend to this dimwitted heroine’s sexual cravings,” General Daniels says, ignoring Terry. He extends his hand and takes the cell phone so his sergeant can fulfill his order.

“Yes, sir,” the sergeant replies. He steps up to the tilted chair in which Supergirl is tightly bound, reaches down and takes her breasts in both hands. Fondling them roughly, his palms squeeze and mold her soft curves, drawing a moaning gasp from her cock-filled mouth. Smiling, Kyle crushes the celebrated red and yellow emblem on her chest with total impunity. In fact, he maneuvers her nipple into the hole in the fabric and tilts his face down to suck on the pink nub.

“…mmmhhhhhhhh…” Supergirl’s body bumps within the ropes, her passions igniting more and more now.

…feels…so…niiiiiiice…

Pulling his face back, the sergeant moves his left hand to the round pinkness sticking through the blouse and tickles it gently with his fingernail, circling the tip then creasing its top just so slightly with the crescent of his nail. Meanwhile, his other hand slides down the heroine’s lithe body and reaches under the hem of her skirt. There he finds the soft blue panties and palms them firmly, driving the thrumming dildo slightly deeper within Supergirl’s quickly moistening cavern and igniting another body quake.

To intensify her passions, the man takes his hand away from the glistening fabric of her crotch and quickly slides it inside her panties, past the waistband until it comes to rest on the dimple of flesh that is her clitoral hood. His forefinger gently pulls that back and comes to rest on the slippery little ball of nerves beneath. He circles this slowly and steadily with his fingertip, raising the woman’s blood pressure and her need ever higher. Then he tenderly flippers the sensitized clit, back and forth with his flicking digit. Spurred to a spasm of sexual delight, the blonde goddess pushes her face fully into Captain Shaver’s crotch, taking the whole shaft into her throat and luxuriating in the sensations surging through her.

“…UUHMMWAAUGHHH…OOOOOOHHHHHMMMM!”

The man’s cock bulges in Supergirl’s neck as she moves her head up and down slowly, making the snake inside flex against her skin.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

The general records Supergirl’s brazen behavior in a sequence of still photos that he knows will bring absolute humiliation to this fallen champion. His son’s victimhood will be completely transferred to this arrogant Maid of Steel. And justice will be served.

“Faster, gentlemen,” Daniels directs. “Time is fleeting and we’ve a bit more to accomplish yet. It’s time we dragged this puffed-up prized pig through the mud of her own making, to make her wallow in her sty, to force her to inhale facedown the foul stench of her own vanity. Make her come hard and come fast, boys! My plan will proceed.”

Faced with the sight of Supergirl so completely victimized, Terry’s eyes leak continuously, her shirt spotted with their salty result as well as the steady drain of saliva from her gagged mouth. In fact, her white blouse has been rendered virtually transparent by all her dripping drool. The white lace bra shows through clearly with the heft of her generous breasts straining against the damp cotton.

One can’t tell whether it’s from her streaming saliva or her trembling excitement but in either case her sunshine yellow panties showing beneath her hiked-up navy blue skirt are clearly wet as well, darkened to a mustard color at her crotch, her cleft and rounded lips prominently displayed.

Squatting down behind her chair, General Daniels whispers in the reporter’s ear. “Your cock-gobbling girlfriend there is about to squirt, Sykes. Try not to make it obvious when you do too. I can see that her enthusiastic surrender is revving your engine.” His hand on her shoulder squeezes it with almost parental affection but it’s one of the most degrading acts Terry has ever been subjected to in her life. The fact that he’s right burns her soul.

Supergirl edges closer and closer to a surge of mindless pleasure as her clit is rubbed between the rapidly twirling forefinger and thumb of the all-too-willing Staff Sergeant Bernard. His other hand continues to give close attention to her exposed nipple by his tongue and fingers. In his thoroughness, the resolute Bernard has ripped the hole open to a six-inch tear in the blouse, exposing the dull reddish areola of Supergirl’s left breast. His firmly clamped mouth now envelops not just the nipple but a good measure of the entire front of her breast as he suckles there like a hungry calf.

The combination of all this stimulation has the heroine lying limply in her chair, her mouth loosely closed around his dick as she offers little more than an instinctive sucking motion on the member driving in and out of her lips. The blue eyes have gone blank and white with her irises rolled far back. Captain shavers has one hand holding the back of her chair with his other tightly clamped on her jaw as he thrusts his hips against her face.

“That ‘a girl,” Shavers encourages, “keep sucking. Keep enjoying Little Ernie’s full length. Take it all in, sweetheart.” The Captain continues to rock his hips as the blonde’s mouth creates a sliding circle of friction that has him rock hard.

“…aawwmmm…aawwmmm…aawwmmm…aawwmmm…aawwmmm…”

“You’re not some hero now, are you, blondie,” calls the General at the moaning beauty. “You’re just a woman whose sole purpose is to meekly suck the cum out of a man until he’s properly satisfied. But darlin’, if you feel the need for release, no one here will think less of you,” he says. “Hey! We couldn’t possibly think any less of her anyway,” he whispers to Terry with an irritating chuckle.

Kara can’t take it a second longer. The teasing of her clit, the circling fingers, the sucking lips, the motorized vibrator seemingly shaking her back teeth by now. Her entire body clenches, her thighs quaking in the circled white rope coils, her arms yanking futilely on the chair arms, her mouth squeezing down on the hard pole in her mouth, her eyes going blind.

...it's...too.......much....

The onrushing wave of a full-fledged vaginal orgasm swamps her brain with nothing but sweet, sweet pleasure. She falls hard and deep, her groan rushing out past the swollen dick and filling the air with a base note that almost sets the candy dish on the desk rattling. She is spent, wasted, lost; floating on the ether with no way home.

Click, click...click, click.
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The serpent beguiled Supergirl, and she did swallow!
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Chapter 10

Lieutenant Mezwani sits at his monitor deeply concerned. General Daniels and his two aides have been closed in his private office with Supergirl and that reporter, Sykes, for more than 45 minutes now. The soundproofed room offers no clues as to what might be going on inside.

The brilliant young soldier knows his drone coding had been usurped by Daniels. For the last 30 minutes, he’d been reviewing the source code and found two sneaky subroutines that had been added: one routine changed the attack variable from negative infrared signature to positive, another shifted the power level up from low to mid-range.

He was still searching for more but was also thinking about what might be taking so long inside the general’s office. Daniels could be debriefing the women in depth about the purpose of the attack out in the airfield. The general had not seemed overly surprised by the turn of events; his demeanor though briefly shaken had returned to a calm self-assurance. The lieutenant assumed that Daniels or someone even higher up wanted to give the drones a hard test of their capabilities against a live combatant with real defensive abilities. Now that incident with Supergirl destroying the red lamps circuitry made it clear to Falak: the heroine had suffered such indignities from his drones because her powers had been significantly curtailed by the lamps.

Falak supposed that the general was having quite a difficult time mollifying the heroine. He couldn’t imagine what it’d be like having to face down a woman with such incredible powers with nothing more than two arrogant aides and a one gun. Certainly, that kind of tap dancing by the general would take some time. Nevertheless, Falak has a bad feeling about the day’s events and, in the back of his mind, he broods about what might be occupying the group in that room. Meanwhile he continues his search for more alterations to his drone programming.


* * *


What is occupying the group in the general’s office is the unmitigated sexual exploitation of the supposedly invulnerable Supergirl. Reduced to little more than a mindless sex toy by powerful infrared lamps that have eliminated all her powers and a double dose Xanax suppository, the famous defender of justice sags impotently in her tilted chair with both arms and both legs tightly bound by rope coils to the chair. With her thighs spread wide, her vagina is stuffed with a fat Day-Glo green vibrator that continues to inundate the body and mind of the defenseless beauty with shivering tremors of pleasure that refuse to be ignored. Even now she is ascending another slope toward a peak of quivering satisfaction that her body craves.

A mouth that could once blow a naval destroyer several miles off course is now relegated to sucking submissively on the cock thrust in there. Her cheeks sink in and expand, drawing in and relaxing again and again, her lips rubbing softly back and forth, caressing the hard muscle in short strokes of delightful friction. With her blue eyes dimmed, her eyelids slack, Supergirl persists, performing her task with clueless compulsion.

“Now that’s the way to suck me off, hero! You’ve gotten the hang of it at last,” Captain Shavers praises the blonde. He brushes away a clump of sweaty hair matted to the forehead of the compliant beauty, fully revealing her face as it presses closer to his crotch.

Staff Sergeant Kyle Bernard has backed off a few steps, simply enjoying the view. Savoring it as well, the general decides to take yet another picture of the servile champion swallowing cock. Two-thirds of his tall aide’s prick is thrust down her gullet as she moans with the growing delight of her oncoming climax.

“…mmmhhhh…ghhhoooood….” The penis muffles her words but her meaning is crystal clear. Supergirl is besotted with pleasure.

“Give her one more orgasm, men,” Daniels commands. “I want this conceited cunt to understand down to her final muscle spasm that she’s lost every iota of control here. Just like my son had battered into him, this oh-so-famous champion will learn that cumming in your underwear against your will spills an acid on your soul that corrodes it to the core.”

So, once again, Kyle eagerly steps forward and takes a knee at the tilted chair. Supergirl immediately feels two sets of hands roaming over her body. Firm palms squeeze the calves enclosed by her shiny red boots. Sudden tracing fingertips track up her thighs while others invade the rip in her blouse to circle her exposed areola. She quivers at their touching and suckles at the cock in her mouth with dreamy need. A searching hand passes past the waistband of her fragrant panties, the dark blue crotch glistening with the saturation of her juices. The probing fingertip has no trouble finding her slippery clit and it circles it slowly before clutching it with a nearby thumb with a gentle authority. The body of the powerless heroine bucks vigorously against her bonds at this insistent squeezing joy between her legs.

…so….sooooo much….pleasure……”

“Before today, you thought you were invincible, didn’t you, you stupid twat?” Daniels’ voice pierces the fog of Kara’s mounting ecstasy as her body writhes futilely in the chair.

…he….he’s…..right…

And now, well, you can’t stop two ordinary human males from forcing you to cum on command. You are going to give us another climax, aren’t you, girl?

…no….....need to……to resist…

“Aren’t you, Supergirl?”

…no….mustn’t…..can’t….

The hands, the fingers, the dido: it’s impossible. The wave swamping her mind, the thunder in her ears, the rushing blood, all the sensations, they’re undeniable.

“Let’s go, champ. We’ve got things to do. Give it up, blondie. Cum! Now!”

Supergirl cums hard. Again. Her figure spasms in place and her grunting defeat is obvious to everyone. The blue panties are soaked and thin clear fluid puddles in the wooden seat beneath the twitching ass cheeks of the senseless heroine. The general records the humiliation on the cell phone, capturing the soggy panties in close up, collecting the moment of Supergirl with her body slack and defeated and her mouth still filled with dick.

The three men in the room smile, their objective achieved. Terry has experienced a small orgasm of her own in her chair in front of the grinning general. Her head is against her heaving chest, soft pants coming through the greasy ball gag.

“Okay, Ernie, feel free to finish Phase One,” Daniels nods at his big aide. “You’ve earned it.”

“Yessir!” Shavers nods avidly. “Kyle, grab the chair legs. Keep ‘em steady. Time for this stuck-up bitch to find out what it’s like to be face-fucked!”

With Bernard now holding tightly to the chair legs, Arnie is free to grab the back of Supergirl’s head. He begins to skull fuck the famous Kryptonian heroine with abandon, thrusting his pelvis forward and completely driving his prick in and out of the very depths of her throat.

“AAAGGHHKKK! AWWGKK!” Even with the double dose of Xanax, Supergirl is near panic. Unable to catch a breath, tied down and unable to resist, she feels the fat cock choking her airway, plugging it up again and again with barely a wisp of oxygen sneaking through between thrusts. Her body instinctively twists and squirms without a hint of hope. With all her powers gone, her mind numbed by drugs she dimly understands that she doesn’t have a prayer. Shavers continues to pump his pelvis, the full length of his penis unleashed and unforgiving, battering her throat again and again, its fat head damming her airway. Supergirl’s eyes bulge as her back arches. The vise grip behind her head freezes it in place, her nose buried in the Captain’s balls which are so close to releasing their pent up load.

Supergirl’s face is tinting to purple as her entire world is reduced to a huge muscular cock thrust over and over down her throat.

“AWWWGGKKK! AAAAALLGGKKK!”

“Take it like a crack whore, Supergirl,” Bernard taunts her, holding the chair tight as its two back legs bump and shake against the floor. “You can do it. You’re a hero, right?”

….can’t…..breathe…..no….air….

“AWWWGGKKK! AAAAALLGGKKK!”

“Breathe through your nose, cunt. Like my son had to!” Daniels’ eyes coldly assess the heroine suffocating on the ramming dick six feet away. “You’d think she never had this done to her before,” he comments down at Terry, her tears flowing again.

“…DOP! LEETH DOP!”

“Settle down, Sykes, this part’s almost over.” Once again, his paternal-like squeeze of her shoulder draws a cringe from the reporter.

This part? Terry can’t imagine what will come next.

Shavers hips continue to thrust for another ten seconds before his pelvis freezes in place, his mouth grimaces and he seals the helpless Supergirl’s lips tight against the base of his shaft. She feels the pulse of him in her lips and suddenly her throat is tickled with hot liquid jizz that shoots down into her belly like a shot of sour milk and brandy. Her eyes bulge, seeing nothing but pubic hair and man balls as a second jet of cum sears down her throat into her stomach.

“AAAWLLGGGKK!”

…can’t breathe…..dying….

Supergirl thinks this is it, this is how her life ends. And then the fat warm muscle spews a final measure in her mouth and withdraws in a flash. Able to close her throat, the Last Daughter of Krypton’s cheeks suddenly bulge out with a warm heaping load of semen. Continuing to hold Supergirl’s skull in his hands, a fully satisfied and somewhat dazed Captain Shavers nods at his compatriot and the chair is lowered to the ground, resting on all four legs for the first time in almost 25 minutes. Kyle squats before the heroine looking up into the woman’s vacant expression.

Unable to withstand her gagging reflex a second longer, the famous blonde champion opens her mouth. A thick white flow of jizz empties out, draining down her chin and onto her chest, anointing her cherished red and yellow family crest with a garish white splotch of dishonor. The stain nearly eclipses the stylized “S” emblazoned there.

“There, so it goes for the illustrious House of El,” declares General Daniels with his head high, his voice clear and strong. “Well deserved: Humiliation. Defeat. Disgrace.”

Kara hears the words but they barely mean anything to her at the moment, as her chin presses against her chest, her mouth drooling with semen, her eyes barely open.
“Sergeant, if you please, it’s time to move onto Phase Two.”

Nodding, Bernard stands up, takes Supergirl’s chin in his palm, raising her head. There’s little awareness in those crossed baby blues but it doesn’t stop the Staff Sergeant from punching the lady’s lights out with a brutal right cross.


* * *


Back out at his desk, Lieutenant Melwani has concluded his search for the rogue subroutines embedded in his drone program. He’d found a third one, where the power shift went from mid-range to high, a nearly fatal intensity laser intensity, even for Supergirl with her lessened powers. He can’t imagine anybody authorizing that level of testing.

“I’ve got to do something,” he murmurs to himself. But what? He checks his watch noting it’s been another 11 minutes for this closed-door conference. Supergirl is just behind that door. “She has a right to know about this. Maybe I should knock, find out what’s going on?”

The general never likes being disturbed but this is important. I’d better act.
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babs_batgirl
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No, no need to interrupt that is just a misunderstanding by your part Supergirl is just fine doesn't need saving. To many good stories ending with a heroine saved heh.

Good so far.
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DrDominator9
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For those of you queasy about the harsh sex in this story, this is a safe chapter to read.


Chapter 11

It is just after 9:45 at night when Lieutenant Mezwani is about to stand up from his monitor to head for the general’s office when Sergeant Nelson, the technician who’d been monitoring the wind speed during the test, asks the commanding officer in the room, “Sir, do you expect us to be on duty much longer?”

“Why, is the Army getting in the way of your social life, Sergeant?” Melawi turns abruptly in his short swivel chair to face the redhead. His usually friendly demeanor is absent, his expression cold, the muscles around his mouth tight. It’s been a very long and stressful day for him.

“No sir. Not at all, sir. I’m here for as long as you need me,” the soldier says, snapping a fast response from his chair, backing down. His behavior generates a sudden sigh from Mezwani who’s hand rises to brush through his curly brown locks.

“Look, Jeff, it’s been a crazy night. I’m not sure what’s going on with the general. This test was…off-kilter,” Falak says, keeping his cards close. “I was about to knock on his door and try to get some information for all of us. Maybe we can get out of here soon. Got a hot date?” Mezwani’s first grin in two hours isn’t wide but it’s earnest.

“My wife’s birthday. We had a 9:30 reservation at Picaletto’s.”

“Tough break. Well, maybe we’ll all be released shortly. Let me see what the general has to say about what’s going on.” Mezwani stands and walks to the door at the far end of the room and knocks firmly on it.

He hears nothing on the other side of the door but with the soundproofing he knows exists, he’s not surprised. Many generals took extraordinary precautions about privacy when it came to talking on the phone with the Pentagon about orders of command and Daniels was the kind of officer who followed the book very strictly.

A small sliding panel at eye height is pulled halfway aside. General Daniels face is there, filling the view.

“What’s so important, Lieutenant. We’re in the middle of a vital debriefing here.”

“Yessir, in regard to that, I felt the general should know I located three subroutines inserted into my coding that were responsible for the failures incurred during the test sir.”

“What makes you think they were failures, Falak?” Daniels’ smile through the panel flashes quickly before disappearing. “We’ll all be out the moment this debriefing is concluded, Lieutenant Mezwani. Thank you for your report.”

The panel is brusquely closed in Falak’s face and he returns to his seat deep in thought. There had been no way to see past the general’s face and there were no sounds forthcoming from the office. His mission to discover new or helpful information about what was going on had been a complete failure. Well, not completely. As he had suspected, the general seemed to know about the subroutines and clearly was not displeased by them. That confirmed that Supergirl had been targeted. The question now was, would there be a reconciliation with her in this meeting and could there possibly even be more drone tests tonight?

When Falak lifts his head and see’s Nelson’s inquisitive face he frowns.

“Better call your wife and tell her the birthday celebration is on hold. And no other information, Sergeant. Let’s keep this matter buttoned up. Gentlemen,” Mezwani raises his voice to the entire room, “we remain at our posts at the general’s pleasure. Prepare for renewed testing procedures of the drones for now. That is all.”

The room’s activity level picks up and the sound of men pursuing their tasks fills the air.


* * *


Inside the general’s office, Supergirl’s sloppy cum-coated chin has settled on her left shoulder, her eyes closed, a dark red bruise coloring her left cheek. The unconscious heroine’s breasts slowly rise and fall, her left tit with its exposed areola and nipple expanding out through the widened rip in her blouse with every breath. The emblem on her chest is somewhat obscured by a flaking yellowed paste of semen drying under the warm infrared lights.

Across the room, Terry Sykes sags in her chair nearly unconscious too. Sergeant Bernard leans over from behind her, tightly covering her nose with the same white handkerchief inundated with chloroform that had been used before on her. The brown eyes are unfocused, the lids fluttering.
As soon as Daniels slides the privacy panel in the office door shut, he turns and gestures to his Staff Sergeant to remove the cloth. He does and steps back. Terry Sykes’ head wobbles on her rubbery neck as she takes a desperate breath of untainted air. With the ball gag in her mouth and her nose loosely covered, oxygen had been scarce. Drained and dizzy, the reporter’s head flops back against the chair and the overwhelmed brunette moans loudly.

The general talks over her noise. “I just bought us enough time to finish Phase Two, gentlemen. I was wondering how I was going to do it without arousing suspicion but Mezwani saved me the trouble,” Daniels chuckles then nods at Supergirl. “Arnie, untie that pathetic loser and wake her up. It’s time for the almighty Maid of Steel to confront reality: time for her to discover, unluckily for her, that she actually has a melting point.”

Captain Shavers squats down behind Supergirl and quickly unties her legs which flop wide apart showing her damp panties underneath her dress. Next, her arms are unbound for the second time in her captivity. When he pulls the last of the white rope away, the heroine’s arms flop off the chair arms and hang limply at her sides, the knuckles barely grazing the floor as they sway in place. The blonde remains unconscious and Shavers has to quickly grip her dangling cape to prevent the heroine from slouching inertly into the chair and falling over.

His snatch of her cape knocks her head off her shoulder and it bobs a few times against her chest. This finally awakens the champion and she groans something, the words inaudible, their meaning lost in the wrinkled folds of her tainted red and yellow insignia for now.

Held up by her cape with her head tilted back by his grip of a clump of flaxen, sweaty hair, Supergirl looks into Shavers mirthful eyes. And she suddenly bursts into tears, whimpering with distress, her face screwed into moon-faced weeping despair.

“…please…leave me…alone…I’m…i’m sorry…sorry for whatever I did to his son.” The famous champion takes a heaving breath and pours out all her anxiety, all her fear, all her thoughts at the tall blond man standing over her. “…i..i..didn’t mean it…didn’t mean to catch him… arrest him…if he was innocent…I didn’t know….I didn’t know…it’s just…just what I do… I catch bad people…”

The double dose of Xanax has completely unraveled the powerless heroine’s intellect, her nerve, her bravery and every bit of her inner discipline. The loose threads of her panic wave and stutter as badly as her words. “..duh..d..don’t…m..make me do…anymore…buh..b..bad things… sex things....i don’t…want to…i can’t…don’t want to…please…b..begging you….please…!...no more sex..uuh..uh..abuse…”

Terry Sykes weeps in her chair to hear her friend so emotionally shattered. Behind her, however, the effect on Simon Daniels is quite different. He swells with pride; positively beams with satisfaction at hearing this mighty hero break down like this before him. There’s a wonderful feeling of righteousness flowing through him. It’s been years in coming and it’s a thing of joy to hear. In fact, he wants to hear more anguish, more mournful pleading from the red and blue costumed loser before him. He thinks he knows a way to achieve that.

“I might be willing to end this here and now, Supergirl,” he calls out to her. When she sluggishly responds by shifting her head in his direction and fixing her dull blue eyes on him, the triumphant general continues. “All you have to do is get on your knees and give me a long, slow blowjob.”

The blonde hero looks at the general with confusion, murmuring softly “..but…I said… nuh..n..no more sex things…no more….abuse…”

“Shut up, you worthless trash, I’m not done. After I cum all over your face, you’ll bow down and kiss my boots in adoration.”

“…w…wh...what…?...” Supergirl is baffled and alarmed at his suggestion.

…this….isn’t right…

“There’s more, hero. Once you’ve prostrated yourself and tongued my shoe leather clean, you will call me Master and beg me again, loud and clear, for clemency for what you did to my son.”

“…m..master…?...clemency…?...” The dulled powder blue eyes dart back and forth revealing the mixed confusion and horrified consideration of all she must do to end her ordeal. It rips at her soul to even contemplate it.

…so…wrong…so humiliating…

“When all that’s been done, I may possibly grant you the forgiveness you seek….”

…possibly…?...might not even…honor…promise…even if I do…what he demands…?...

“…right after you reveal your secret identity to everybody here.” Daniels concludes.
Supergirl’s head jerks back as if slapped, butting against Shaver’s thigh.

“Rao! I…i…can’t…” she chokes.

“Can’t or won’t, girlie?

“…it’s…too…much…” Supergirl’s chin quivers and tears spill from her downcast eyes.

“Sucks to be you,” Daniels states. “Those are my terms, bitch. Yes or no?”

The air is still as everyone looks at Supergirl with breathless expectation. And then a shudder of defiance ripples through Supergirl’s posture, straightening it slightly. She slowly looks up, tilting her head askance a bit even in Captain Shavers’ firm grip.

“No.” Supergirl’s answer is clear. Her voice has lost its shake. Her breakdown is over.

“There!” General Daniels’ shout of exultation startles everyone in the room. “That’s the heroine who stormed in here earlier from out of the storm. There’s that fiery Kryptonian spirit. I was afraid we’d lost you for good.” His expansive smile that Terry looks up to see gives her the heebie jeebies. “It would have rendered Phase Two almost pointless. Now get on your knees in front of Sergeant Bernard, bitch. He’s the one you’re going to be sucking off next. And he’s no less of a man than Captain Shavers there. Probably a bit thicker around…if you’re taking notes,” he leers.

“I won’t…do it,” Supergirl says slowly, softly. “I’m through…taking orders.”

“Is that so?” Daniels is surprised at this rebellion. He even looks up at the overhead lamps with a nervous flash in his eyes.

Has something gone wrong?

Supergirl’s fist suddenly rises up out of nowhere from the side of her chair and it collides knuckles first with Captain Shavers’ groin, burying deep in the ball sack within his pants. He collapses to the floor in shock and breathless agony. Supergirl is out of her chair and dashing for the door in a flash.

Or so she thinks.

In reality, after dropping the groaning captain with her forceful surprise punch, the desperate heroine seems to move almost in slow motion. She ponderously circles out of the chair, faces the door and takes a wobbling step forward. Then Supergirl takes another step. Her unsteady gait is agonizingly slow, as if walking into a gale force wind. Everyone watches her ridiculous escape attempt with pity, amusement or horror.

The Xanax flowing through her system has thoroughly impeded Supergirl’s faculties. The blonde champion’s arms move slowly with back and forth tremors as she makes her agonizingly way forward. Her legs are even worse, teetering and shaking like a new-born colt. One step is taken and then another, her upper body wavering from side to side with terrible balance. The world’s most powerful defender of justice can’t comprehend why it’s taking so long to get to the nearby door.

Nevertheless, like some palsied old woman in a nursing home desperate to make it to the bathroom before she wets herself, Supergirl maintains her escape attempt. She takes one faltering step forward and then another, her eyes glimmering with false hope.

Almost there!

And then she feels both her arms gripped at the biceps and she is held forcefully in place, rooted to the floor. Her futile effort to break out of the general’s office have taken so long that Arnie Shavers has had time to recover and recapture her.

“No!” Supergirl’s surprised wail of defeat cuts Terry to her core. The anguished woman is then yanked back and sent spinning across the floor until she falls in an ungainly heap at the feet of Staff Sergeant Bernard.

“That was the most sorry-assed thing I’ve ever seen in my life, blondie. Could have used a calendar instead of a stop-watch to clock you.”

Supergirl looks up apprehensively at the stocky soldier looming over her.

“Time to follow the general’s orders, champ. Get on your knees, pull out my cock and start sucking.”

“I won’t…i’m…done with that.”

“Is that a fact?” The general, off to Supergirl’s left is still standing behind Terry’s chair. He reaches over, picks up the gun from off his desk and puts it to the reporter’s temple. “You sure about that? Could it be that gray sponge you call a brain couldn’t hold the thought of his dick in your mouth and your girlfriend’s life in your hands simultaneously? Does this refresh your memory about who holds all the cards here, chump?” The general twists the barrel of the silencer against the wide-eyed brunette’s head.

“…you won’t fire….no way… to explain her death…”

“You brainless twat. Ever consider the fact that I have thought this thing through more than you? That I’ve spent years on this plan? That I’ve got an escape scenario that puts me far away from U.S. extradition?”

Supergirl’s face goes pale, her expression immediately shifting from self-confidence to doubt.

He’s got me. Got us.

“Still, if you need further encouragement, I’ll be happy to have the good Captain there oblige. Arnie, there’s a knife in the top drawer of my desk there. Take it out and come over here by me. Show Supergirl what happens to Chubby Terry when she doesn’t follow orders quickly enough.”
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saxman314
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Dun dun DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!! Bring on the next chapter!
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DrDominator9
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Chapter 12

Terry Sykes’ body quivers with dread as Arnie Shavers casually saunters over to the general’s desk and pulls out a small military-grade folding knife with a black satin finish. With the push of a silvery thumb-stud button, a shiny 3-1/2” stainless steel blade snaps out, ready for use. As the cold-eyed captain makes his way around the desk to the chair in which Terry is bound, General Daniels walks over to behind Supergirl. Now resting with her butt on her haunches, she warily cranes her neck at him.

“Face front, Supergirl,” Daniels commands the blonde. After a momentary hesitation, she sullenly complies. To allow the distraught heroine a better view of her captive friend, Sergeant Bernard steps back and to the side. “This object lesson is for you,” the general continues. “I need all your decidedly limited intelligence focused on your friend Terry there. Are you with me?”

“…yes…” the miserable woman replies with a docile nod.

“You need to understand what it means when you refuse to immediately obey my order, glory hound,” Daniels growls behind her with contempt. “Terry pays the price for your defiance. Now watch what you’ve caused.”

Squatting behind the wide-eyed reporter, Captain Shavers wraps his left arm around her upper body, freezing the quaking brunette in place. His right arm looms over her sopping wet bra.

“No sudden movements, porker. We don’t want a stuck pig screaming in here. Get me?”

The sweating, ball-gagged reporter nods her head slowly, tears dripping out of the corners of her eyes.

The knife blade slides beneath and behind the bra strap stretched across her cleavage, slicing the rubber with a quick upward tug. The two cups spring apart, dangling from the shoulder straps as Terry’s breasts flop free and shimmy in place for all to see. Her immediate humiliation turns to sheer terror, her eyes bulging as the razor-sharp blade is suddenly drawn against the lower crescent of her left tit, leaving the thinnest red line that quickly beads with tiny bright droplets of blood. They slowly trail down her stomach, leaving three tracks there before dripping onto the dark blue skirt leaving barely-seen staining dots. Supergirl shakes her head no as a choked gasp escapes her quivering lips.

“…please…stop…! I’ll do…a..any…thing you ask…”

“Anything I order, don’t you mean, bitch?”

“…yes…yes…anything…you order…”

“Good. That’s all I wanted to hear.” Daniels says, his arms spread, palms up, the picture of reason. “Now, crawl across the floor on all fours to Kyle there, then get on your knees, pull down his fly, take out his cock and start sucking him off at least as well as you did Arnie. And remember, if you don’t suck like a slut, Supergirl, that minor scratch on Terry’s tit becomes a permanent scar…or worse, yes?”

“Yes,” whimpers Supergirl, wavering dully on her haunches with a stupefied alarm.

“Well? NOW, YOU MORON! Follow my orders to the letter, maggot!”

Stung into action by his shouted command, Supergirl tilts forward onto her hands and knees and dazedly makes her way across the floor toward the staff sergeant who stands waiting with his hands on his hips, beaming with delightful expectation.

The general watches the famous champion painstakingly crawl off with the crotch of her dampened panties glistening between her shifting butt cheeks with every dragging motion forward. The short hem of Supergirl’s costume dress shows everything, including the bulge of the dildo still menacingly lodged in her pussy stretching out the silken blue fabric.

With every crawling lurch, the single bare tit that dangles out of the tear in her blouse wobbles beneath the defeated blonde. Her metal disc belt jangles at every knee pulled forward, every dragging scrape of those thigh high boots being dragged across the floor.

General Daniels waxes ecstatic that he has reduced this swaggering Super Snatch to the moronic and obedient victim she deserves to be. She’s about to pay the final bill for her arrogance, the same price his son had paid in jail. He’s ready to collect her long-overdue debt. The moment is sweet for him as he watches the world-renowned heroine finally get up on her knees and obligingly, albeit slowly and awkwardly, pull down his aide’s zipper and pull out the fat penis from his brown plaid boxers.

With a mournful glance at Terry’s blubbering bulging-cheeked face, Supergirl puts her lips around the soldier’s dick without hesitation and begins to suck hard at the huge, quickly-stiffening muscle. Her fist holds the base of his shaft and her face bobs back and forth a few times, giving the penis a shine in the lights before angling closer to his crotch. But then she can go no further. She gags on the generous width of the man’s junk and begins to pull back. Fat steady palms suddenly press against the sides of her head and not just hold it in place but slowly push it inward so that her face is forced closer toward the base of the fat shaft.

“Aaaalllgggkkkk! Haawwllgggg!”

“Come on! Take me ALL in Supergirl. My full length,” Bernard cajoles, his sturdy arms unrelenting in their insistence. “Show me your best heroic swallow,” he demands, pressing her head in further still. He looks down at the kneeling heroine’s upturned face. Her irises disappear beneath her fluttering lids as Supergirl’s eyes show nothing but white. Her lips are forcibly crushed against his balls with the fat snake in her throat throbbing through her neck. Supergirl’s arms drop forward and she is held in place with her face buried in Bernard’s crotch. Her upper body sags forward, her thighs shifting and her knees jerking back and forth in quivering spasms as she strains for oxygen that is nowhere to be found. She is held there for a good ten seconds, gagging and choking on the fat prick blocking her gullet, her eyes tearing up, her head unable to escape the prison of his squeezing hands against her skull.

Finally, she feels her hair yanked back as she’s pulled off the dick. The monster is disgorged and blessed air rushes in. She is summarily tossed down to the floor in a tangle of quaking arms and legs. Her wheezing, coughing and gulping draws of oxygen are the only sounds that fill the office for a good half minute until the general coolly commands her to do it again…but this time with feeling.

The three men in the room laugh but Supergirl submits as told, wearily getting back on her knees before the penis bobbing there in the open. She reinserts it into her mouth, her eyes glistening with fear and misery and doubt. She cannot see her future. All she can see before her is the fat base of his dick, a thick patch of curly brown pubic hair and nothing but forced indebtedness. She goes as far as she can, her lips wrapped tightly around the warm muscle, and obediently resumes her blow job as ordered.

Holding the shaft so it’s not pointing at too much of an angle upward, the heroine bobs her head at a steady pace, creating a satisfying cylinder of friction on the skin. This has the general’s stocky aide moaning with pleasure. She draws her head up and down the upper two thirds of the fat penis, pulling at the tube, sucking at the head, licking the glans; completely surrendering her mouth to the task at hand.

“…aauuhhmmm…uullgghhkk…aauuhhmmm…uullgghhkk…”

“Now this is a super blow job,” exclaims the Staff Sergeant heartily, his arms spread out and his fingers pointing down at the Maid of Steel kneeling at his feet, groggily bobbing her head against his crotch over and over. Her mouth and throat persistently work their magic on his ever-hardening dick.

“…aauuhhmmm…uullgghhkk…awwllkkk..awwllkkk…aauuhhmmm… aauuhhmmm...”

The red thigh-high boots squeak against the wood floor and Supergirl’s exposed breast flops back and forth from her chest to the sergeant’s leg, bumping with soft thumps of flesh. The once-mighty female defender of justice has been reduced to a groveling dull-eyed drooling slut before the eyes of everyone present.

“That’s nice work, hero,” Captain Shavers offers approvingly, standing up behind Terry now. “You’re every bit the fawning cocksucker I figured you’d be.”

At times, Supergirl feels Kyle Bernard’s palms gently holding her head as she moves it, other times she is unencumbered while she sucks, blows, licks and offers gentle brushing lips against various highly sensitized areas of the bulging brownish dick. She feels the bulging veins in her mouth, the heat of him, the urgency of his rising need as she suckles, draws, flutters her tongue and even consumes the length of him as she finally fully acclimates to his size.

Terry Sykes’ eyes are locked onto her kneeling friend just a few feet away. From the side, she can see Kara swallowing the man’s kielbasa without hesitation, the fat tube being taken into those rounded lips time after time after time. She’s shocked at not only Supergirl’s continuing compliance in her duty but her ability to take in that huge sausage without gagging on it now.

After 10 very persistent minutes of giving head, a weary Kara is now holding Bernard’s cock in her left fist and erratically running her tongue around the mushroom head when she gets the order to let go of his prick and use her hands to pull her butt cheeks apart. This stops her in her tracks.

…did he… just say…what I think…?

“…whut dith you thay…?...” Supergirl is poised on her knees before Bernard, one hand holding the base of his shaft, the other gripping his butt. Her mouth still holds the head of his cock between her lips but she’s uncertain of how to proceed.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, cunt. Do what I ordered,” snaps Daniels. “Or should Arnie give Terry a nice puncture wound to match that scratch of hers?”

Supergirl’s hands move instantly, reaching around behind her. She’s so confused she pulls on the cheeks under the slippery blue panties and they only go so far before the fabric restricts any further separation.

“Yet another blonde moment. Pull your panties down, idiot. Then pull your butt wide apart.”

For a fraction of a second, Supergirl looks left at the face of Captain Shavers, the hovering knife blade, and Terry’s glistening, tear-stained face. Although the reporter is shaking her head no, even Kara in her doped-up condition can see the terror there. She hesitates no more and submissively pulls down her own panties. They stretch around her thighs, resting just above the tops of her shiny red boots. And then, with trembling fingers, Supergirl pulls her smooth white round buttocks apart, showing off her tight pink anus and her dildo-stuffed vagina.

“Well, you are a trainable bitch. Good to know,” declares the general. “Now keep those cheeks spread, champ. I’m going to grease that pretty ass of yours and then, for my son Matthew’s sake, I’m going to fuck it!”

Supergirl shakes her head back and forth with a mournful groan of despair.

…knew…it would…come to…this…

“Arnie, better pull out of Sucker Girl’s mouth for a while. I don’t want you hurt if she bucks at all from taking it in the ass.”

“Good call, general,” agrees Bernard who puts his palm against Supergirl’s forehead and slowly pulls out of the absent-minded heroine’s still tightly-gripping lips.

Pop!

“Guess the bitch didn’t want to let go,” laughs Bernard, holding onto a forelock of blonde hair.

A flustered Supergirl just kneels there before the man, wavering in place with her palms pulling her butt open as ordered. Shavers’ menacing eyes and the open blade he’s casually tapping against Terry’s shoulder keeps the heroine focused on her humiliating task of spreading her cheeks to her enemy.

…is this…really happening…?....

All that firm resolve she’d mustered earlier was giving away again to fear and despair. The glimmer of hope she’d felt when that Indian soldier…Mezwani…was it?... that was completely gone now. Rescue seemed impossible. Daniels had figured it all out, had totally out-maneuvered her in every way. First the red lamps and then the infrared ones. She’d been a naïve fool, giving away every advantage she’d had, allowing him to talk, to stall, to stalk and to attack both her and Terry without fear of reprisal. And now he was going to…

The greasy smear against her rear surprises the pensive beauty even though Daniels had clearly announced his intentions not a minute before. The stocky sergeant’s hand goes back to Kara’s forehead and keeps her upright although shakily so. Supergirl’s asshole is coated outside and in with a generous helping of anal lubricant. While she’d been wool-gathering the general had been busy moving ahead with his strategy. Like the entire day had gone, he’d been a step ahead while she stupidly allowed herself to be abused. The hand strays all up and down and around her ass crack, leaving it slick, shiny and all too accessible. The final poking of an extra dollop of grease into her rectum by Daniels’ forefinger and the subsequent circling pass drags a gritting of teeth and a gasp from the despondent blonde.

…he’s doing this… going to put his…cock…up my ass…

“I’m not surprised in the least that you’re a tight ass, Supergirl!” Daniels whispers in her ear, surprising her with his sudden closeness. The heroine glances over at Terry and Kara’s expression shows total remorse. Terry’s eyes widen at what she sees in her friend’s face.

…sorry Terry…i…i..can’t…let him…do this…to me…just..can’t…

“NO!” Supergirl cries out, lurching forward and away from Daniels’ warm breath at her earlobe, trying to escape her fate. Her hands fly off her butt and the palms land flat on the floor. She no sooner clumsily scrambles to her feet with an awkward stagger before a brutal left jab from Sergeant Bernard batters her tit into her chest.

“Oww--!” Supergirl’s yelp is cut short by Kyle’s follow-up right cross that hits her right in the mouth and sends her flopping backward, into the waiting arms of Simon Daniels. With her legs spread out in a V before her, Supergirl’s head lolls against Daniel’s shoulder, her arms hanging limp at her sides, her bell rung like a church on Easter Sunday. Her resistance is over as soon as it starts.

“…ohhhhhhh…” Supergirl moans as lights dim and shine in succession before her. She’s too dazed to know its her eyelids trying to stay open. Shavers is now the one taking pictures of the sprawled heroine, barely conscious with her tit showing and blood dripping from the corner of her mouth.

“Well, that was pointless and useless and stupid,” Daniels jeers. “How did you get your heroic reputation, blondie, by way of some high-paid PR firm? I’m just not seeing it.”

“..ahnaagkks…” Terry reminds the general through her ball gag.

“Yeah, you keep saying it’s the Xanax but I’m not buying it. Look at the facts, reporter. Your friend Supergirl is an idiot. Being heroic is one thing. Having the deck stacked against you and still trying to win, that’s just irresponsible. And it’s you she’s being reckless about, Sykes!”

Saying that, the general nods at Shavers who draws yet another line of trickling blood on the underside of Terry’s other breast. And when that’s done to the shaking, whimpering brunette, he brusquely pokes her nipple with the knife point and draws a squeal of pain and a bead of blood there.

“You’re lucky it’s not worse. Both of you. Now get your thoughts together, cunt, and get back on your knees, hero. I have some drilling to get to,” Daniels orders.

Dazed and overwhelmed, Supergirl is half-lifted by the general back into her previous position, wavering on her knees, helpless, awaiting penetration.


* * *


Outside in the expansive control room, Lieutenant Falak Mezwani sits at his monitor, drumming his fingers at the long table on which it sits. He looks at his watch just two minutes after when he last looked. The general, his aides and the two women have now been inside the office for more than an hour with no signs of coming out. He sighs for a moment and then gets a sudden inspiration. Tapping on the keyboard, he brings up a screen. He quietly gets a drone inside the field-side hangar ready for launch.

Two can play at this game. Let’s just see if I can’t find out what’s going on in that office.
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ksire_99
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Hmmm, Falak going to be the knight in shining armor? Curious as to how the drone is going to help learn what is going on in the room.


Do Kryptonians have a morale code for when ones life has been saved by another? What would he ask for...
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DrDominator9
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It'll be interesting to see how Falak handles himself. His loyalties should be with the army, right? Of course with the possibilities of a grateful Supergirl ready to rush into his arms, that might sway his actions. I know it would sway mine. Insubordination and a court martial or having the Maid of Steel offering her charms. Tough choice, right?
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