All imags come from the fantastic Sleeperkid's World
Of all the superheroines that have fallen prey to me over the years (and there have been one or two), the one I truly love to defeat or even just mess with,would be Supergirl.
Beautiful, intelligent, sexy, the pinnicle of powerful, and yet always easy to defeat. I don't mean just hauling out a big walloping hunk of kryptonite. The amount of kryptonite that has, alegedly been made into chains, rings, bracelets, amulets, idols, crowns, everything under the sun or just left a raw hunk of super K, would make one think that after Krypton exploded, every bit of the now fragmented planet sailed to Earth and landed where it could all be found. There are three other ways that Kryptonians can be over come that are so much more creative and satisfying.
I had placed an ad in the city paper that the Humbled Heroine was looking for help. I addition to additional bartenders, waitresses, hostesses, cocktail servers, and coatroom attendants, I was looking for attractive, powerful and adventurous women to fight for the house during our "Challenge Nights", which have become so popular that my managers run them three nights a week. I enjoy them too. I only want the strongest, most talented fighter/sensualist to fight for the house and for that I pay them beyond their wildest expectations. The fringe benefits in food, drink and sexual pleasure alone well compensate my fighters for their efforts, skills and pains. My employees are paid in any manner they want; international cash, gold, platinum, "special favors", almost anything. No assassinations or revenge killings. I do desire, I don't do death.
I also know that super heroines, female detectives, spies, law enforcement agents, reporters, government agents and female revenge seekers are constantly trying to infiltrate my organization during these tryouts and on Challenge Nights. I encourage it. It makes it all so much more exciting, for me. Detecting them is relatively easy. One attempted audition infiltration, in particular comes to mind.
Supergirl came to a tryout for a Battle Ring champion position in a semi-disguise. The results were a complete surprise to her and an absolute delight for me. I was sure some heavy hitting super heroines would do anything infiltrate at this time. I was planning a 6 month secret expedition to South America with a brand new special unit that I have spent 5 years researching and slowly developing that should quadruple my power base and lend a whole new and massive offensive and defensive facet to my organization that only very few superheroines will be able to challenge and my capabilities will be far greater than theirs. (I hope you'll follow this new development in future stories.) Supergirl and others have heard murmurings and whispers about this tremendous addition and desperately wish to know more.
The tryouts consist of the hopeful candidate fighting me or Lisette in the style of combat they are most proficient. If fighting full out they can hold their own against either of us for 15 minutes or in the case of a sensualist, seduce either of us and bring us to orgasm before they cum, then I will seriously consider hiring them.
The second day of the tryouts a gorgeous, huge breasted, blonde came into the huge downtown gym I rented for the tryouts. She walked up to the table where I was keeping track of the applicants, by the wide open, matted battle area as a small cheap desk. She wore pink satin booty shorts that looked like they were painted on and a soft, pink dyed, midriff fawn skin leather laced top that barely covered her big, dark tanned melons. She was average height with a slender waist and a smooth muscled abdomen, round, tight ass and long, full thighs that looked powerful but all feminine. She had deep blue eyes with long thick blonde hair that hung down around her shoulders and rested beautifully on those big, round, firm boobs. Her nipples were already hard and erect, her cameltoe seductively outlined by her smooth, thin light pink, satin booty shorts. She looked like she was born to have hot crazy sex.
In appearance, looked 140 pounds thin and 5 foot 3 inches tall. I was dressed in an slightly overlarge, long sleeved white shirt, green bow tie, light red and yellow plaid pants that ended an inch above brown loafer shoes. On my face I wore very thick, black rimmed glasses. I had bleached out my hair and dyed it light red, slicked it down and parted it in the middle of my head. I stood slumped, slightly round shouldered, and slightly knock-kneed. I pushed my sliding glasses back up my nose with my right index finger as Supergirl came striding up to me and stood with legs widely separated, left hand on her cocked hip and her right hand slowly sliding up and down her deeply tanned tight thigh. As I was slouched, her big,round, firm, stiff nippled boobs were at my eye level and about 12 inches away.
With a slightly nasal voice and looking very serious, I whined, "Good morning Miss are you here for an employment interview or a Battle Ring tryout?"
"Whatcha' tink, honey?", the sex kitten blonde's Betty Boopish voice bleated, her right hand index finger lifting my lowered face up to direct my vision to her show stopping bust.
" A sensualist, I assume?" I asked the gum-smacking blonde sex goddess, looking at the smooth curvature of her huge boobs, the tanned darkness of the exposed skin and the height and thickness of her stiff nipples. I casually glanced at a series of 8 tiny dots of different colored lights that were projected on a far wall, well behind and out of sight of the sexy applicant. The tiny diodes with no heat, flat light glowed on and off twice in less than two seconds. Each light was connected to a number of silent, gas and particulate DNA discriminator probes, well hid inside the lead, steel and carbo-tanium lintel and archways set in the heavy, reinforced cinder block walls. Every applicant had to pass through the ordinary looking archway to get to the gym. Thirty seconds later as the new hopefuls spoke to me, behind their backs, I was given a complete and detailed biological, emotional, psychological DNA driven schematic of that person, including their physical, mental and hormonal based strengths and weaknesses. I could establish their age, place of birth or creation, their origins, whether terrestrial or galactic. If they had been captured before by me or any of my minions and their DNA samples taken, their identity and complete information files would be available at my finger tips instantly.
The coded message was that I was talking to a full blooded, female kryptonian in her prime. Of the two kryptonian bust sizes with which I was intimately familiar, the bust size, of this supposed bimbo, while eye catching and impressive, was a the smaller size. So this was Kara Zor-El, Supergirl. Powergirl was on Earth-2.
"My boyfren said I was a fighta." , said the disguised Supergirl in her put-on nasal voice as she cracked the big wad of gum in her mouth. "I heya dat your boss pays real good, cutie. And I'm kinda strong, see? So I thought dat I could woik for yous in yaw swank bar." With that the buxom blonde blew a huge bubble with her gum before it popped. She pulled the sticky pink gum off her nose and full lips before popping it back in her mouth again and continued chewing it.
"And your name is ...?", I inquired my enormous bespectacled eyes looking deeply into those cool, blue eyes.
"Bambi," she quacked. "Bambi San Dubois".
"Well Ms. Dubois," I could not contain a small coughing laugh at her selected name, "our Battle Ring card for wrestlers, martial artists and limited weapons combatants are all filled for the coming year. The only openings that are available would be for sensualist combat or boxing."
"Boxing would be great," the Supergirl oozed, thrusting her big, beautiful chest forward as she raised both fisted arms in the air, flexing her biceps, "I'm real good at punchin' stuff . Uh . . when do I meet Dockta. Desia?"
"We'll see, Ms. Dubois, we'll see. The doctor is otherwise occupied, however he might peek in to see how you are doing."
Handing the disguised super heroine a clipboard with papers and a pen attached I directed her to the locker room door.
"Please fill out this temporary contract and waiver, your costume and a pair of boxing gloves is in the challengers locker, locker 3. In the locker room over there through that door at the back of the gym Help yourself to a bite of food and a glass of cold champagne or wine if you like. A table of light food and drink has been set up there. Come back when you are ready."
I watched Supergirl's round tight, pink clad butt sway seductively as she walked across the huge gym floor to the locker room, and mindful of her super hearing, I types an image code message to Lisette on the communcay link to "prepare the gloves in 3 for kappa phay omega". This would be an enjoyable tryout.
Ms. San Dubois, you do that costume great justice." I exclaimed as the Girl of Steel stepped out of the locker room and onto the blue matted floor of the gym. She could not entirely hide that her face was pink with the blush of embarrassment, not so much because of the size of her attire but because of the nature of the costume. She was clad in a tiny bikini. The red bottoms were tied on both sides and lined in gold material. Her huge and beautiful boobs were gorgeously on display and barely contained in the small, deep blue, gold lined bikini top. A small but prominent, coat of arms of the El family, the gold S on a shield shaped field of red was sewn onto the right cup. She was barefoot and wore standard weight, pink boxing gloves with reddish orange and yellow materials lined at the wrists.
" Lovely, you make a beautiful Supergirl, Ms. San Dubois." I remarked, pushing up my faux glasses and looking her up and down critically. "I did not include a cape with the costume as it I thought it would get in the way of your fighting." I said as I laced on a set of blue boxing gloves.
"Uhh, Thanks uh.. what's your name?" Supergirl said more than slightly disconcerted and trying, casually, not to look me in the eye. Her fake voice and accent almost completely forgotten as I stood with my gloved fists raised like the Marquess of Queensberry. She did not notice the stripes on the gloves began a soft and heat-less glow.
"Herman Schmeedle," I mumbled as I huffed and puffed and danced in place as I threw jabs in the air. "Shall we begin. Well fight to the first knock down" I snuffled nasily, my head down as I bobbed and weaved absurdly.
"Mr. Schmeedle, I cannot fight you," the beautiful bikinied kryptonian said, backing away, aghast at the idea of hitting a small skinny person, not yet aware that her massive, other worldly strength and powers were rapidly dwindling, her glove stripes glowing a brighter reddish/orange and yellow. "I
"Well, certainly you can Miss San Dubois." I said jabbing and ducking, while shuffling my feet, sounding and looking like a pugilistic Jerry Lewis clone. Stopping my shadow boxing moves, "That's why you came here, right?"
"Ohh, Mr. Schmeedle, what did you do to me?" groaned Supergirl as she began to feel her super strength drain to the dregs. " I feel so weak!"
Catching the weakening Super-babe by surprise, "Mr. Schmeedle" threw a powerful, three punch left-right left combo to Supergirl's flat belly, just above her navel. THUDD!!..DEDD!!..DUDDD!! winding the sexy blonde. The last shot buried deep in her belly, folding her over. I uncorked a full powered right hook to the bent over super beauty's unprotected jaw, her big round boobs dangling deliciously. CCRRAAKK!!
BBLLAAAMM!!! The bikinied Girl of Steel flew 60 feet aross the gym to slam into the reinforced cinder-block wall, long cracks appeared at impact.
Holding onto the cracked wall to keep from collapsing the stunned and groggy heroine from Krypton now felt her remaining strength ebbing. Shaking her head to clear the stars and fog that was gathering, Supergirl saw a fuzzy image of my Mr. Schmeedle walking to her
"Activated Red Sun Spectrum tape on your boxing gloves is being controlled by a remote spectrum intensity control. The ends of the tape fused together so it cannot be easily removed. And it's milking you like a cow of your strength", I said drilling another 5 rapid granite busting punches to Supergirl's lower abdomen, below her navel and just above her golden bikini line, THUDD!! THUUUD!! THUUD!! THUUDD!! THUDD! Each punch slammed my sexy super victim against the thick, stone wall, cracking it further. Still holding onto the wall for support and trying to stand straight, a massive 6th punch to Supergirl's aching belly landed like a bunker buster missile.
By now the two Red Sun Tape bracelets were glowing brightly and the semiconscious Supergirl was leaning against the cracked wall, her long, shapely legs spread wide as I walked to the center of the gym. Barely able to stand, Supergirl came stumbling and staggering drunkenly from the cracked wall, towards me, swinging wildly at phantom images of Mr. Schmeedle that her groggy mind saw off to either side. (TO BE CONTINUED. . . )
I had placed an ad in the city paper that the Humbled Heroine was looking for help. I addition to additional bartenders, waitresses, hostesses, cocktail servers, and coatroom attendants, I was looking for attractive, powerful and adventurous women to fight for the house during our "Challenge Nights", which have become so popular that my managers run them three nights a week. I enjoy them too. I only want the strongest, most talented fighter/sensualist to fight for the house and for that I pay them beyond their wildest expectations. The fringe benefits in food, drink and sexual pleasure alone well compensate my fighters for their efforts, skills and pains. My employees are paid in any manner they want; international cash, gold, platinum, "special favors", almost anything. No assassinations or revenge killings. I do desire, I don't do death.
I also know that super heroines, female detectives, spies, law enforcement agents, reporters, government agents and female revenge seekers are constantly trying to infiltrate my organization during these tryouts and on Challenge Nights. I encourage it. It makes it all so much more exciting, for me. Detecting them is relatively easy. One attempted audition infiltration, in particular comes to mind.
Supergirl came to a tryout for a Battle Ring champion position in a semi-disguise. The results were a complete surprise to her and an absolute delight for me. I was sure some heavy hitting super heroines would do anything infiltrate at this time. I was planning a 6 month secret expedition to South America with a brand new special unit that I have spent 5 years researching and slowly developing that should quadruple my power base and lend a whole new and massive offensive and defensive facet to my organization that only very few superheroines will be able to challenge and my capabilities will be far greater than theirs. (I hope you'll follow this new development in future stories.) Supergirl and others have heard murmurings and whispers about this tremendous addition and desperately wish to know more.
The tryouts consist of the hopeful candidate fighting me or Lisette in the style of combat they are most proficient. If fighting full out they can hold their own against either of us for 15 minutes or in the case of a sensualist, seduce either of us and bring us to orgasm before they cum, then I will seriously consider hiring them.
The second day of the tryouts a gorgeous, huge breasted, blonde came into the huge downtown gym I rented for the tryouts. She walked up to the table where I was keeping track of the applicants, by the wide open, matted battle area as a small cheap desk. She wore pink satin booty shorts that looked like they were painted on and a soft, pink dyed, midriff fawn skin leather laced top that barely covered her big, dark tanned melons. She was average height with a slender waist and a smooth muscled abdomen, round, tight ass and long, full thighs that looked powerful but all feminine. She had deep blue eyes with long thick blonde hair that hung down around her shoulders and rested beautifully on those big, round, firm boobs. Her nipples were already hard and erect, her cameltoe seductively outlined by her smooth, thin light pink, satin booty shorts. She looked like she was born to have hot crazy sex.
In appearance, looked 140 pounds thin and 5 foot 3 inches tall. I was dressed in an slightly overlarge, long sleeved white shirt, green bow tie, light red and yellow plaid pants that ended an inch above brown loafer shoes. On my face I wore very thick, black rimmed glasses. I had bleached out my hair and dyed it light red, slicked it down and parted it in the middle of my head. I stood slumped, slightly round shouldered, and slightly knock-kneed. I pushed my sliding glasses back up my nose with my right index finger as Supergirl came striding up to me and stood with legs widely separated, left hand on her cocked hip and her right hand slowly sliding up and down her deeply tanned tight thigh. As I was slouched, her big,round, firm, stiff nippled boobs were at my eye level and about 12 inches away.
With a slightly nasal voice and looking very serious, I whined, "Good morning Miss are you here for an employment interview or a Battle Ring tryout?"
"Whatcha' tink, honey?", the sex kitten blonde's Betty Boopish voice bleated, her right hand index finger lifting my lowered face up to direct my vision to her show stopping bust.
" A sensualist, I assume?" I asked the gum-smacking blonde sex goddess, looking at the smooth curvature of her huge boobs, the tanned darkness of the exposed skin and the height and thickness of her stiff nipples. I casually glanced at a series of 8 tiny dots of different colored lights that were projected on a far wall, well behind and out of sight of the sexy applicant. The tiny diodes with no heat, flat light glowed on and off twice in less than two seconds. Each light was connected to a number of silent, gas and particulate DNA discriminator probes, well hid inside the lead, steel and carbo-tanium lintel and archways set in the heavy, reinforced cinder block walls. Every applicant had to pass through the ordinary looking archway to get to the gym. Thirty seconds later as the new hopefuls spoke to me, behind their backs, I was given a complete and detailed biological, emotional, psychological DNA driven schematic of that person, including their physical, mental and hormonal based strengths and weaknesses. I could establish their age, place of birth or creation, their origins, whether terrestrial or galactic. If they had been captured before by me or any of my minions and their DNA samples taken, their identity and complete information files would be available at my finger tips instantly.
The coded message was that I was talking to a full blooded, female kryptonian in her prime. Of the two kryptonian bust sizes with which I was intimately familiar, the bust size, of this supposed bimbo, while eye catching and impressive, was a the smaller size. So this was Kara Zor-El, Supergirl. Powergirl was on Earth-2.
"My boyfren said I was a fighta." , said the disguised Supergirl in her put-on nasal voice as she cracked the big wad of gum in her mouth. "I heya dat your boss pays real good, cutie. And I'm kinda strong, see? So I thought dat I could woik for yous in yaw swank bar." With that the buxom blonde blew a huge bubble with her gum before it popped. She pulled the sticky pink gum off her nose and full lips before popping it back in her mouth again and continued chewing it.
"And your name is ...?", I inquired my enormous bespectacled eyes looking deeply into those cool, blue eyes.
"Bambi," she quacked. "Bambi San Dubois".
"Well Ms. Dubois," I could not contain a small coughing laugh at her selected name, "our Battle Ring card for wrestlers, martial artists and limited weapons combatants are all filled for the coming year. The only openings that are available would be for sensualist combat or boxing."
"Boxing would be great," the Supergirl oozed, thrusting her big, beautiful chest forward as she raised both fisted arms in the air, flexing her biceps, "I'm real good at punchin' stuff . Uh . . when do I meet Dockta. Desia?"
"We'll see, Ms. Dubois, we'll see. The doctor is otherwise occupied, however he might peek in to see how you are doing."
Handing the disguised super heroine a clipboard with papers and a pen attached I directed her to the locker room door.
"Please fill out this temporary contract and waiver, your costume and a pair of boxing gloves is in the challengers locker, locker 3. In the locker room over there through that door at the back of the gym Help yourself to a bite of food and a glass of cold champagne or wine if you like. A table of light food and drink has been set up there. Come back when you are ready."
I watched Supergirl's round tight, pink clad butt sway seductively as she walked across the huge gym floor to the locker room, and mindful of her super hearing, I types an image code message to Lisette on the communcay link to "prepare the gloves in 3 for kappa phay omega". This would be an enjoyable tryout.
Ms. San Dubois, you do that costume great justice." I exclaimed as the Girl of Steel stepped out of the locker room and onto the blue matted floor of the gym. She could not entirely hide that her face was pink with the blush of embarrassment, not so much because of the size of her attire but because of the nature of the costume. She was clad in a tiny bikini. The red bottoms were tied on both sides and lined in gold material. Her huge and beautiful boobs were gorgeously on display and barely contained in the small, deep blue, gold lined bikini top. A small but prominent, coat of arms of the El family, the gold S on a shield shaped field of red was sewn onto the right cup. She was barefoot and wore standard weight, pink boxing gloves with reddish orange and yellow materials lined at the wrists.
" Lovely, you make a beautiful Supergirl, Ms. San Dubois." I remarked, pushing up my faux glasses and looking her up and down critically. "I did not include a cape with the costume as it I thought it would get in the way of your fighting." I said as I laced on a set of blue boxing gloves.
"Uhh, Thanks uh.. what's your name?" Supergirl said more than slightly disconcerted and trying, casually, not to look me in the eye. Her fake voice and accent almost completely forgotten as I stood with my gloved fists raised like the Marquess of Queensberry. She did not notice the stripes on the gloves began a soft and heat-less glow.
"Herman Schmeedle," I mumbled as I huffed and puffed and danced in place as I threw jabs in the air. "Shall we begin. Well fight to the first knock down" I snuffled nasily, my head down as I bobbed and weaved absurdly.
"Mr. Schmeedle, I cannot fight you," the beautiful bikinied kryptonian said, backing away, aghast at the idea of hitting a small skinny person, not yet aware that her massive, other worldly strength and powers were rapidly dwindling, her glove stripes glowing a brighter reddish/orange and yellow. "I
"Well, certainly you can Miss San Dubois." I said jabbing and ducking, while shuffling my feet, sounding and looking like a pugilistic Jerry Lewis clone. Stopping my shadow boxing moves, "That's why you came here, right?"
"Ohh, Mr. Schmeedle, what did you do to me?" groaned Supergirl as she began to feel her super strength drain to the dregs. " I feel so weak!"
Catching the weakening Super-babe by surprise, "Mr. Schmeedle" threw a powerful, three punch left-right left combo to Supergirl's flat belly, just above her navel. THUDD!!..DEDD!!..DUDDD!! winding the sexy blonde. The last shot buried deep in her belly, folding her over. I uncorked a full powered right hook to the bent over super beauty's unprotected jaw, her big round boobs dangling deliciously. CCRRAAKK!!
BBLLAAAMM!!! The bikinied Girl of Steel flew 60 feet aross the gym to slam into the reinforced cinder-block wall, long cracks appeared at impact.
Holding onto the cracked wall to keep from collapsing the stunned and groggy heroine from Krypton now felt her remaining strength ebbing. Shaking her head to clear the stars and fog that was gathering, Supergirl saw a fuzzy image of my Mr. Schmeedle walking to her
"Activated Red Sun Spectrum tape on your boxing gloves is being controlled by a remote spectrum intensity control. The ends of the tape fused together so it cannot be easily removed. And it's milking you like a cow of your strength", I said drilling another 5 rapid granite busting punches to Supergirl's lower abdomen, below her navel and just above her golden bikini line, THUDD!! THUUUD!! THUUD!! THUUDD!! THUDD! Each punch slammed my sexy super victim against the thick, stone wall, cracking it further. Still holding onto the wall for support and trying to stand straight, a massive 6th punch to Supergirl's aching belly landed like a bunker buster missile.
By now the two Red Sun Tape bracelets were glowing brightly and the semiconscious Supergirl was leaning against the cracked wall, her long, shapely legs spread wide as I walked to the center of the gym. Barely able to stand, Supergirl came stumbling and staggering drunkenly from the cracked wall, towards me, swinging wildly at phantom images of Mr. Schmeedle that her groggy mind saw off to either side. (TO BE CONTINUED. . . )
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