There weren't too many people in the park today, despite the fine weather. The girl found herself a sunny spot, put her bag down on the grass, and then sat herself down. Kicking off her shoes, she took a book out of her bag and rolled over onto her stomach to read. She was wearing a pair of running shoes, a pair of red shorts with a white elastic waistband, and a red top that covered her breasts adequately but didn't come down far enough to meet the waistband of her shorts.
Marcie Mitchell had just turned twenty-two, a senior at the university. Having no more classes this afternoon, she had come down to the park to take advantage of the warm late spring sun. After all, she might as well work on her tan while she read, and the short jog to the park gave her the perfect opportunity to get away from the other students and their boomboxes.
The sound of a gunshot followed by a high-pitched scream made her look up from her book. The commotion was coming from across the street. Several other women took up the scream as they backed away from the bank. A man in a black shirt and blue jeans was running across the street, a cloth bag in one hand and a gun in the other. He had a black baseball cap pulled down over his face. He'd apparently just fired the gun into the air, for nobody seemed to be actually injured.
Marcie didn't need her college education to tell her what was happening. Putting her book back in her bag, she threw it and her shoes behind some bushes and stood up. Since she was just a shade over five feet tall, she didn't have to stand up very far. The gunman was about a foot taller, and somewhat wider.
Seeing only the statue and the diminutive girl between him and escape, the gunman came straight at her.
Timing was going to be critical. One slip with the gun and it could be fatal, at least in her current form. She turned to one side and took a couple of steps onto the cobblestones around the statue. If anyone had been watching, they might have noticed her lips moving as she whispered something to herself.
The bank robber had apparently planned to use her as a hostage, reaching out for her throat with the arm holding the bag. Instead, he ran smack into her hip and bounced back, almost losing his balance.
Regaining his balance, he looked to see what he had hit. Not believing what he saw in front of him, he looked up.
The girl in front of him was wearing red shorts and a red top, just like the girl he had been planning to use as a hostage. But this couldn't be the same girl.
The girl standing in front of him --- or rather, the girl standing above him --- had to be at least ten feet tall.
Dropping the bag with the money as he took a step back, he raised his gun.
The girl smiled down at him and took a step toward him. Raising his gun a little higher, he pulled the trigger.
The bullet hit her exposed stomach, below the bottom of her top and above the top of her bottom. Ricocheting off her rock-hard abs, the bullet bounced off into the flowerbed. "Hey! That tickles!" She clasped her hands to her stomach.
The gunman pulled the trigger again. This time Marcie saw the bullet come out of the smoke and flame at the end of the barrel. Holding her position, she could see the bullet clearly as it came toward her. It tore a ragged hole in her top as it struck her left breast about two inches inside and above the nipple, spreading a warm tingling feeling over the front of her body. The bullet flattened as it decelerated, dimpling her soft flesh until it reached the underlying muscles. As the steel-jacketed lead slug ran out of energy it stopped, before her firm breast then popped it back out to clatter to the cobblestones at her feet.
Raising her right arm, she got her hand behind the gunman's head and pulled him toward her, at the same time falling onto her back. Carrying a man with her, she was not as graceful as she could have been; her form would have earned her a tongue-lashing from her old gymnastics coach. She landed on her backside with a loud THUMP, her long black hair pooling behind her as she pulled him down on top of her. Her long legs flew up, trapping the man between them.
He struggled to get away from her, striking her stomach and chest with his gun. Being careful not to squeeze his fragile male body too hard, she locked her ankles behind his back and lifted him into the air.
He continued to flail away at her, delivering two-handed blows to the front of her body. Using her legs, she positioned him so that most of his blows struck one breast or the other.
"Mmmm, that feels good," she purred. "Keep it up." She loved the power this form gave her over men.
He struck her again, and then jammed the barrel into the deep valley between her breasts.
"You don't really want to do that," she said, smiling up at him. "If you pull the trigger, the explosion will blow your hands off." Bringing up her right hand, she used her index finger to push the barrel out of her cleavage.
Once his gun was free, he swung his arms again, this time striking her left cheek with the gun. Raising her head toward his next swing, she closed her mouth on his gun, being careful not to bite it.
A brief tug-of-war ensued as he tried to pull the gun out of the girl's mouth. In the struggle, his finger closed on the trigger. The bullet struck her tongue and pushed it against the back of her mouth, at the same time her mouth filled with the expanding gases, causing her cheeks to puff out slightly. Gasping from the sudden pressure, her teeth sliced through the hardened gunmetal as if it was nothing more than a strand of well-cooked macaroni. Some of the gas escaped through her nose, singeing the man's facial hair and causing him to cough.
Turning her head to the side, she burped and let the remainder of the gas out of her mouth without scorching the man any further. "Excuse me," she said, ever mindful of her manners. She then spat out the bullet and the end of the barrel. "Yuck! You got any that taste better?" she asked, straightening her head and smiling up at him.
The useless remnant of his gun dropped to the ground and he shook his hands in an effort to get some feeling back into his numbed hands.
"Oh, did you hurt yourself?" she asked, bending her legs and bringing him down toward her.
Balling up his hands, he swung at her face.
"Oh no, you don't." Straightening her legs, raising him higher and taking his blows off their mark. Before he could swing again, she opened her legs and let him fall onto her body.
He put his hands on her waist and tried to push himself off her. She pushed his head down into her cleavage. "Hey, while you're in there," she said, "you wanna clean up that mess?" Not getting any kind of response from him, she gently moved his head around, using it to rub off the lead smear from his second bullet.
"You got me all cleaned up now?" She didn't wait for an answer. As much as she enjoyed playing with the little man and showing him her superiority, she had her responsibilities. Still carefully holding him to her chest, she got up to her feet. Carrying him as if he weighed nothing --- which to her he might as well have --- she walked over and picked up the discarded moneybag. She then jogged across the park toward the bank and the police cars assembling in front of it, carrying him as if he was no more than a sack of groceries, his head banging against her breast with each long stride, his baseball cap knocked off his head in the first three strides.
An Olympic sprinter couldn't have matched what was an easy jog for her and her long legs.
"You boys looking for him?" she asked the policemen, depositing her burden on the hood of one of the police cars, both the robber and his ill-gotten loot. Standing with her feet spread slightly apart and her hands on her hips, she towered over the crowd. Many of the men didn't crane their heads far enough to look at her face, instead only going high enough to see the hole in the front of her top and the generous view of her deep cleavage it provided. Some of them were practically drooling, undisguised lust in their eyes.
She still didn't like it very much, but at least they were looking up at her, instead of staring at her bellybutton. And she was beginning to get used to it. That didn't mean she had to like it, however. But it was a good feeling, knowing that these men, and some of the women as well, found her sexually appealing.
All of the policemen knew about her, though some had not seen actually seen her in person before today. MegaMaid had first shown up in the city the previous year.
Nobody knew much about the mysterious raven-haired Amazon. They didn't know who she was, or where she came from, or how she got her amazing powers. They did know that she was over ten feet tall, that she was incredibly strong, and that bullets simply bounced off her gorgeous body. They didn't even know her real name; MegaMaid was simply a moniker one of the local newspapers had used. Despite the fact that they got the initials right --- by pure chance --- she hated it. Other than being politically incorrect, she thought it made her sound as if she was fat or something.
Actually, it was worse than, much worse. It was something straight out of a Mel Brooks movie. Like she should be using a gigantic vacuum cleaner to clean things up. Except one look at her apartment would tell anybody that she wasn't all that into neatness. Not that she was a slob or anything, but she wasn't the neatest person around.
Bu that was neither here nor there. As for the name, unfortunately for her, it had stuck. Short of holding a press conference and telling them her real name --- and she was not about to do that --- she was stuck with it.
"MegaMaid!" one of the policemen did acknowledge her, breaking away from comforting one of the witnesses and moving over to handcuff the dazed gunman lying on the car. At least this one was a female officer. She was looking up past the gigantic breasts at Megamaid's face with envy, her own chest was rather flat. She tilted her neck back until Megamaid thought that if she got any closer, she'd probably fall over on her back.
Another of the policemen approached her, holding a pen and small notebook. He was shorter than the woman, but kind of cute. "MegaMaid, if I could get you to make a statement..."
Looking over the heads of the policemen, she saw the TV truck coming around the corner. Where one of them came, others would soon follow. It was definitely time to leave.
She turned her head and looked down at the cute policeman who had just spoken. Another one was at his side, a notebook also in his hand. "Sorry, boys, but I can't stay and chat." With that, she turned around and all but stepped over another policeman. Two long strides took her across the sidewalk and onto the street. She was just a blur by the time she reached the statue in the middle of the park. She continued to accelerate until she disappeared behind the tall trees on the other side.
No one paid any particular attention when a diminutive girl in red shorts and a torn red top emerged from behind the trees about half a minute later. Retrieving a bag and a pair of shoes from behind some bushes, she sat down and pulled on the shoes. Standing back up, she glanced over at the commotion in front of the bank, then turned in the opposite direction, slung her bag over her shoulder, and started walking.
Marcie Mitchell knew she couldn't stay here in the park any longer today. The fact that she was wearing red just as MegaMaid had been, and the fact that there was a ragged and slightly scorched hole in her top --- while her clothes changed size with her, they weren't invulnerable like her skin, and they didn't mend automatically --- the police might eventually put two and two together and come up with at least three and a half.
She also had to go home and get ready for her date tonight. After all, she did have something special planned for tonight.
Marcie Mitchell had had more than ample time to shower and put on a fresh set of clothes. The red top had been ruined by the bullet hole. With some regret, since she'd just bought it last week, she threw it into the trash. It wasn't the first time that she'd had to throw away new clothes, and it probably wouldn't be the last. She really wished that there was some way to have her clothes become as invulnerable as she did when she transformed.
Anyway, it wouldn't have been appropriate attire for this evening. She wore a white blouse and a relatively modest red skirt, barely coming down to her knees. Glancing at the clock, she sat down to wait. And to think.
Life certainly had changed for her since she had first discovered her ability, while touring the Yucatan during spring break last year. She'd immediately set forth to explore her incredible new ability, sneaking away from her friends at the hotel.
Of course, it did feel a little strange, running around the Yucatan jungle in only her underwear. But she had managed to accomplish some small good, like getting that elderly couple's car out of a ditch. Even with the couple and their luggage still in the car, it had felt as light as a feather.
She'd also run into a hidden drug operation. That had been when she'd discovered that in addition to having nearly unlimited strength when in her giant form, she was also bulletproof.
She'd actually enjoyed the feeling of power, simply standing there while the bullets merely bounced off her huge power-packed body, ripping what little she was wearing into shreds. The little tingly feelings had felt really good, especially when the bullets hit her breasts. Unfortunately, the pleasure had been too short-lived as the men quickly ran out of ammunition without causing her any harm, other than for destroying her clothes and leaving a bunch of little lead smears all over her body.
There hadn't been much left of that particular drug operation when the local authorities found it the next day, following an anonymous tip. There had been even less left of the men running it. They never came up with a plausible story to explain how a dozen assault rifles and pistols had been mashed together into a single metal ball, some of the metal actually having melted from the intense pressure.
The knock on the door of her apartment room came promptly at seven o'clock, interrupting her reminiscences. Opening it, she stepped back to let Karl Rivers into the living room. "Right on time, as always," she said as he put his hands on her waist and lifted her up to him for a quick kiss.
"Did you hear what happened downtown?" he asked almost as soon as he broke off the kiss and set her back down on her feet. Karl Rivers was also a senior at the university, a reserve linebacker on the football team. Over a foot taller than Marcie and twice her weight, they made an unlikely-looking couple but had been together for over a year now. She'd had a bit of a problem with her previous boyfriend, shortly after she had discovered that some of MegaMaid's almost limitless strength carried over even in her normal form. She hadn't hurt him too bad, but it had scared him away from the relationship.
"Why?" She took a step back so that she didn't have to crane her neck quite as much in order to see his face. It was a definite reversal from the policemen at the bank that afternoon. "What happened?"
"MegaMaid foiled a bank robbery."
She snorted. "MegaMaid again? What is it about you and her? You're always talking about MegaMaid this and MegaMaid that." Despite her words and tone, she knew Karl wasn't the only one; it seemed as if every man in the city was infatuated with the mysterious giant Amazon.
Just last weekend, they'd talked about what she could do for the various sports teams at the university. No offensive line in football would be able keep her out of the backfield, and no defensive team would even slow her down as she carried a football. And on a basketball court... well, she'd actually gone down to the fieldhouse one night soon after first discovering her ability. She couldn't even walk under the basket without stooping; standing with her heels on the court, her eyes were only a couple of inches below the rim, the top of her head was a couple of inches above. Definitely a far cry from the diminutive gymnast who'd almost needed binoculars to see the hoop before.
She didn't have to reach up very far, let alone jump, in order to slam-dunk a basketball. And holding a basketball in the palm of one hand proved to be no difficulty. At least, not the second one; she'd burst the first one when she'd squeezed it a little too hard.
Marcie tossed her head and started to turn away. "Sometimes, I think you like her more than you like me."
He took her arm and turned her back to face him. "I'm sorry, Marcie. It's just that..." He let go of her arm. "Well, MegaMaid is something special. She's unique."
"And you'd rather be with her than with me." She started to turn away again.
He turned her back to face him. "It's not that, Marcie. It's just that..." His cheeks started to redden. "Well, nobody seems to know anything about her. Who she is, where she comes from, that kind of stuff. Whether she has her own web site."
"Whether she has a boyfriend," she added, sarcasm practically dripping from her voice.
He stared at her, his mouth open wide.
She turned away from him again. "I'm sure you'd like the job. Why don't you fill out a résumé and send it to her?"
"Marcie!" He came up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and bending his head forward to nuzzle her neck. "I don't think my girlfriend would appreciate it."
She leaned back into his embrace and turned her face toward his. "So, just what would you do if you got MegaMaid alone?"
He continued to nuzzle her neck. "I don't think she'll let me do this," he whispered into her ear. "She'd probably just knock my head off or something if I tried." He followed that up with his tongue, licking the inside of her earlobe.
"Admit it," she said. "You still fantasize about doing it to her, don't you?"
"Who doesn't?" he replied, licking down her cheek and tracing the angle of her jaw with his tongue.
"I don't!" She tried to pull out of his embrace, but his strong arms held her tight. She knew she could easily break out of his grasp --- even without her full strength she was still several times stronger than he was --- but she'd always been careful not to reveal herself.
"I mean, all the guys do," he said, loosening his embrace just enough for her to turn around to face him.
"Well, I'm not a guy."
"I know." He nuzzled her neck again, working his way down as far as the collar of her blouse allowed.
"So, what kind of stuff do you fantasize about?" she asked. "I mean, assuming she didn't just knock your head off or something."
With his arms still around her waist, he easily picked her up. Ignoring her little squeal, he carried her to the couch and set her down. "Well, I might start with this." He began unbuttoning her blouse.
She pretended to struggle as he licked and kissed his way down her throat.
"Then I might do this." He slid his hands behind her back and unhooked her bra. He helped her wiggle out of her blouse and bra, discarding them on the floor.
He'd always enjoyed her breasts. He'd seen larger, but Marcie's were a bit on the large side for somebody of her diminutive size, and very firm. He cupped her breasts in his hands and began kneading them lightly, running his thumbs over her nipples.
"There's something I want to do first," she said, pulling his hands away and standing up.
"There's nothing wrong with what we were doing," he replied, grabbing for her.
Eluding his hands, she picked up her blouse. Walking toward the table, she wrapped the blouse around herself, succeeding in mostly covering herself up. "Come here a sec," she said over her shoulder. "There's something I want to show you."
He was already on his feet. He followed her to the table. They sat down facing each other. "Okay, Marcie. What is it?"
She put her right arm on the table. "This."
He looked at her arm. "What?"
She raised her arm, resting her elbow on the tabletop. "Arm-wrestle me."
He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. "Oh, come off it, Marcie, quit kidding around." She'd been with him a couple of times when he'd arm-wrestled some of his teammates. He wasn't the best arm-wrestler on the football team, but he was far from the worst.
"Chicken?" she asked, taking his hand in hers.
"Come off it, Marcie," he repeated, trying to pull his hand out of her grasp. He was surprised to find that he couldn't pull his hand out of the much smaller girl's grasp.
"C'mon, try it," she said, smiling at him. "If you beat me, I'll sleep with you tonight." Even though they'd been dating for a year, they still hadn't slept together --- though there was no lack of effort on his part.
He relaxed and put his elbow on the table. "And if you beat me?" The expression on his face told her he wasn't even considering the possibility that she might beat him.
Her smile widened. "Oh, I'm sure I can think of something."
"Okay, any time you're ready." He positioned his arm. Given the difference in their heights, her arm was nearly vertical.
"Here I go." She gave his arm a little push, pushing it back a couple of inches.
He quickly brought their arms back to the starting position. "Had enough?"
"You haven't beaten me yet." She pushed again.
This time he stopped her after one inch. He didn't stop after reaching the starting position however, continuing to push until her arm was about half the way down.
It was Marcie who stopped their arms and then brought their arms back to the starting position. Surprised, he looked up at her face, only to see her smiling at him. Wanting to stop this nonsense and get her into bed instead of across a table, he put everything he had into it. Her arm moved back about two inches and then stopped. He was unable to stop her from moving them back to the starting position. She didn't seem to be exerting herself very much, still smiling across the table at him, her free hand holding her blouse closed.
It was definitely time to stop this nonsense. He put his left hand over their clenched right hands and threw his weight into it.
Their arms began to move, but not in the direction that he was pushing. He looked on in amazement as she smoothly pushed their clasped arms, her smile widening as his arms moved toward the tabletop.
Finally her slender right arm pushed both of his arms down flat. Freeing her hand from his, she stood up and clasped her hands over her head. "The new champ-pee-on!"
He slowly stood up and shook his arms, looking down at her in amazement. "Who are you? MegaMaid's little sister?"
"Not exactly. I just wanted you to know that MegaMaid isn't the only girl in town who can whup your butt." Coming around the table, she picked him up. Ignoring his surprised yelp, she carried him back to the couch and set him down. "Now, where were we?"
"Uh, you were going to do something if you beat me."
"Oh, yeah." She took off her blouse and sat down on his lap. "So, what should I do?" She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
He slid his hands between their bodies and cupped her breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Mmmm," she purred, breaking off the kiss. "Harder," she whispered into his ear before nibbling on his earlobe.
"I... I don't want to hurt you."
She giggled. "I just beat you at arm-wrestling. A little squeeze isn't going to hurt me."
"How did you do that any way? I mean, if you're not MegaMaid's little sister, or..."
"Hush." She kissed him.
"Just how did you get so strong?" he asked when they broke off the kiss.
"You know I did gymnastics all the way up through high school. We had to work out a lot to keep in shape."
"Gymnastics, hell. I've been playing football since I could walk, and I'm not half as strong as you."
"Hush," she repeated, shutting off any further questions by pressing her lips against his.
"I decided what the winner's reward is," she said when they finally came up for air.
"Oh? And what would that be?" He gave her breasts another squeeze.
She pulled herself away from him and stood up. Without a word she picked him up and carried him into the bedroom. She laid him down on the bed and quickly joined him. It wasn't long before they were both fully undressed.
He began to whisper to her, telling her about what they were going to do and how it was going to feel. His hands never stopped.
"Now," she said.
"Wait a little."
She waited as long as she could. She was shaking. "Now."
He rolled on top of her, resting his weight on his arms. "Are you sure you want it?"
Like the rest of him, that part of him was big. Almost too big for Marcie, though MegaMaid might have found him too small to be of much interest.
But he wasn't lying atop MegaMaid, but atop Marcie Mitchell instead. "Yes!" she answered. "Now!"
And then he was in her. She arched against him and quickly matched his rhythm.
It was absolutely incredible. Her pleasure was almost instantaneous, and she cried out his name.
"Again," he said in her ear, and kept on going. She tried to keep pace, once again matched him. She began urging him on, gripping him with her inner muscles, digging her nails into his hips. At last he made an incoherent sound and climaxed, and she did, too.
He collapsed on top of her and she put both my arms around him for the first time. She ran her hands over his back and bottom, feeling skin and muscles, planes and curves. He nuzzled her neck gently for a minute, withdrew from her, and rolled onto his back.
"Was that as good as MegaMaid?" she asked lightly after about a minute, rolling over and propping herself on an elbow, tracing the fingers of her other hand over his broad muscular chest.
He laid his hand over hers but did not interfere with her caresses. He took a deep breath before answering her. "I think this was better." His grin threatened to split his face in half.
"Really? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?" As if she could feel much better than she already was feeling right now. This had been the first time for her since that ill-fated evening with her previous boyfriend.
"Just think about it. She's a hot babe and all that, but bullets just bounce off her." He reached over and flicked her nipple with a finger before cupping her breast. "I mean, her entire body's made outta Kryptonite or something. I don't think there's anything a man can do to her."
"What do you mean?"
"It's probably like, you know, trying to fuck a rock or something. I don't think anybody could get his wang in there."
"Yeah, you're probably right." She rolled over onto her back, pulling her breast out of his hand. He slid his arm under her as she snuggled up against his shoulder.
There was no 'probably' about it, as she knew from first-hand experience. Politically incorrect or not, the 'Maid' part of her name was completely accurate; MegaMaid was fated to remain a maiden.
It had happened a few months after first learning about her incredible ability, when she had gone home for the summer break.
Having spent the afternoon and evening with some old high school friends, Marcie Mitchell declined the offer of a ride home in favor of a walk through her hometown. The day had been a cool one and it had rained briefly, though it had stopped while they were having dinner. She had a light raincoat slung over one arm. She was crossing the mouth of an alley when a hand grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her in.
She shook off the hand holding her arm and drove her elbow into his solar plexus. There was a loud OOF as the air was driven out of his lungs.
As she started to spin around to face her assailant, a hand reached out from the darkness, grabbing her other arm and stopping her turn. Before she could respond to this second attack, he brandished a knife in her face.
She froze in shock, not wanting to believe such things happened in her hometown. It was happening, however. She had a momentary flash of optimism, hoping that the men were 'merely' after her purse.
It was not to be, however. The first man came around to stand in front of her, still a little short of breath from her elbow jab. "Bitch!" he snarled, grabbing the front of her blouse and pulled, tearing it open. That made it clear that they wanted more than her purse.
Still holding the knife in her face, the second man grabbed her arm and pushed her down to the ground. She went sprawling on her face in the dirty and damp alley. Before she could push herself up, one of them sat astride her back, pinning her to the ground. She could feel her blouse being torn away even while another hand or two pushed her skirt up around her waist.
Marcie still wasn't completely familiar with her newfound powers. She knew that even in her current form she was stronger than either of the men, maybe even stronger than the two of them combined. But at least one of them had a knife, and that gave them the edge --- literally.
And knives may not be the only weapons they had.
There was only one thing she could do to turn the situation in her favor. Scraping her cheek on the rough pavement as she turned her head to one side, she spit out some dirty water and whispered the magic incantation.
Pushing herself up from the ground, she rolled over and sat up.
Purely by chance, she had rolled toward the mouth of the alley. The two men were staring at the giant girl sitting at the entrance.
Recovering from their initial surprise, they tried to slip past her.
"Hey, you boys aren't leaving already, are you?" She raised her arms and stretched them out, completely blocking the only exit from the alley. "We just got started."
The two men backed away from her, their backs against the opposite walls. One of them nodded to the other and then they rushed her, each of them with a knife in his hand.
Remaining seated on the ground, she reached out and grabbed each of them, pulling them toward her. They reacted by slashing at her with their knives. She pulled them closer until they were practically sitting on her thighs.
The knives made quick work of what remained of her blouse. Her bra didn't last much longer. However, the sharp blades didn't leave even a single mark on her skin.
"Mmmm, that feels good," she purred, savoring the feel of the sharp blades against her breasts. It felt especially good when one of the blades snagged against her left nipple, pushing it in a little. Closing her left hand about the man's fist, she pushed the blade harder against the engorged nub.
The man screamed as the force broke some of the bones in his hand. About a second later the blade snapped in half, her aroused nipple proving to be harder than any manmade substance
Using her right hand, she guided the other blade to the underside of her right nipple. Pushing up, her entire mound lifted about three inches before this blade too snapped, even her softest flesh proving to be harder than the tempered carbon steel.
"Oh, it looks like you're going to have to do it yourself," she told the men, brushing the metal splinters off her chest. Then getting her hands on the backs of their heads, she pulled them closer to her body.
Being careful not to apply too much pressure, she gently rubbed their faces over her exposed breasts. The men tried to fight her off, hammering with their fists on her shoulders, the sides of her breasts. She continued to rub their faces over her breasts, savoring the feel of their rough stubble against her smooth flesh. Their noses felt good against her nipples. Their teeth felt even better, especially when they tried nipping at her.
As good as it felt, she wanted even more. She forced her nipples past the men's lips, past their teeth, and into their mouths.
She gasped as both men bit down on her engorged nipples nearly simultaneously. "Oh, that's it, boys. Harder," she encouraged them, holding them to her with just enough force the keep her nipples in their mouths, easily overcoming their feeble efforts to push themselves away from her. "If you want me to be nice to you, you have to be nice to me." She arched her back, raising the two men's bodies and bringing them closer to her.
A man can only put up so much resistance when faced, literally, with her magnificent bosom. Their minds remembering at some level what they had planned to do to the girl, their movements changed. Now they were no longer trying to free themselves from her embrace, instead caressing and fondling her huge mounds even as they suckled at her nipples.
She'd grown to enjoy the power over men that her immense strength gave her, but this was even better, overpowering men with nothing but her sheer femininity.
This was the first time she'd had two men working on her breasts at the same time. An experience she found quite pleasurable. An experience that made her want even more. Reaching a hand between the two men and up her skirt, she tore off her panties and began rubbing herself.
Why should she do it herself when she had two eager men here at hand? Pulling the man on the left away from her breast, she forced his head between her legs. He initially resisted, but a little gentle persuasion on the back of his head got his tongue working.
Not very well, however, not doing anything more than merely licking the outside of her sex.
Frustrated, she pulled him off her and rolled him over onto his back. Still just using one hand, she tore off his jeans and shorts. Lying on her back with her legs apart, still holding the other man to her right breast with her arm lightly around his back, she invited him in. She was momentarily disgusted with the eagerness he showed in kneeling between her legs and trying to thrust into her. He wasn't particularly well hung, and considering the size differential, he was almost pathetic. She tried to think about the old boyfriend she had met earlier that evening, along with his date.
But even as hard as he had gotten from suckling on her breast, he was unable to penetrate her tight slit, the tip of his cock merely sliding around her damp bush.
She'd never dared to try it with a man in this form before. She'd once used her hands to mold a piece of chrome steel into a dildo and tried using that. It had only lasted a brief while before the heat and pressure from her vigorous use had caused it to melt. That had resulted in an interesting clean-up experience.
Her frustration mounting, she reached put with her left arm, putting her hand on his butt and trying to pull him into her. He screamed in pain as his cock bent. The scream changed pitch as his hipbones began to crumple under her hand.
So lost was she in desire that she failed to recognize the screams for what they were. Closing her eyes, she continued to pull him into her. She moaned with pleasure as at last she felt something entering her, something hard enough and almost large enough to be useful. She thought again about the old boyfriend she had just seen, and of the good times they'd had before she went off to college.
By the time she realized what was going on and relaxed the pressure, it was too late. The entire lower half of the man's body had been crushed and smeared over her hips and stomach as her hand had gone through him to insert two fingers up to their roots into her sex.
That was not the total extent of the damage, however. She had been totally unaware of the tightening of her right arm. The other man's chest had been crushed against her side, and her breast had caved in his skull.
Appalled at what she had just done, she pushed aside the two bodies, what was left of them, and got up to her feet. She looked down at her blood-smeared body, and at the two half-bodies that had provided the blood. She had to close her eyes momentarily to fight down a wave of nausea. Reopening them, the scene hadn't changed.
She turned away, knowing that she had killed them. Yes, they were rapists. They may even have killed her after having their fun. Yet, she had killed them, without even trying.
Her clothes were a total loss, her blouse and bra shredded by knives, her skirt a bloody mess, her panties torn off. Except for her raincoat, which had fallen to the ground at the beginning of the fracas. It was wet and dirty from being on the ground, but otherwise intact.
It didn't fit her now, since she hadn't been wearing it when she uttered the magic incantation. But that was easy enough to rectify. Invoking the spell and transforming back to her normal size, she put the raincoat on. When she invoked the spell again, she was clad from neck to knee in a jumbo-sized raincoat.
Picking up her purse, her long legs quickly took her home, carrying her along the dark streets faster than a car. Running up the walk and stooping under the porch roof, she transformed back to her normal size. Getting the keys out of her purse, she opened the door and went in.
The voices from the kitchen told her where her parents were. Calling out a quick "Hi, I'm home," she hurried on to her bedroom. She already had the water running in the shower before her mother came by to ask her how her evening had been.
It would take more than a shower to wash away the memories of that particular evening.
Her hometown police had never been able to satisfactorily explain what a passerby discovered in that alley the next morning.
Marcie banished the ugly memory from her mind and concentrated on making new, happier ones. And who better than with the big man lying next to her? Sliding her hand across his stomach, down to his stomach and beyond, she saw that he was ready almost for another round.
Just because MegaMaid couldn't do it was no reason for Marcie Mitchell not to. And that was exactly what she proceeded to do. A few moments of gentle massaging with her fingers removed the 'almost' from his condition.
She rolled over on top of him. She swung her leg over him, straddled him, bent to kiss him, stroked his short blond hair atop the white pillowcase. This time, it was her turn to talk to him. She told him that she was about to do something to him that MegaMaid couldn't do. She told him, close to his ear, that she was about to take him inside her again. She told him how it would feel. She told him how much he was going to enjoy it. She told him how much she was going to enjoy it. She could hear him draw his breath, and soon she could feel his excitement. Her own heart was pounding.
It was not as good as the first time had been. It actually was much better the second time around.
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