Power Girl The interview and the Aftermath

BY : Nickamano
Category: DC Verse Comics >no category yet > no category yet
Dragon prints: 1488
Disclaimer: I do not own Power Girl, nor any DC characters or locations used herein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Part Two: Painful Memories.

The Interview blew up over the next week. From the humans, social media as well as the journalistic press, it was mostly about the last part the ‘justification to commit murder’ and it was split into two camps. Clark put his two cents in of course. There were calls for arrest, for criminal charges but no prison would hold her and she wasn’t about to hand herself over to the law anyway.

For many of the metahumans though, the earlier part of the interview seemed to have caught people’s attention. And it seemed to have come across as some kind of call to arms for dates from their kind.

Blue Beetle, two Green Arrows, Beast Boy, Harley Quinn (of course) and Mister Terrific all approached her over the following fortnight, interested in either trying their hand at romancing her for the first time, or reigniting an old flame long extinguished. Kara turned them all down, most of them didn’t even fit the criteria for safe physical intimacy.

The dreams came in strong and fast. She assumed it had been a series of disturbing memories long repressed that the interview had re-sparked in her psyche. They came forth as vivid and accurate sleeping re-enactments of true events from her adolescence and her years as Supergirl back on her own Earth.

She sometimes found herself floating above the covers up by the ceiling. Some kind of unconscious reaction, her body stretching its metahuman muscles when she was fast asleep maybe, so she had to make sure no one could see inside her apartment, blinds fully closed, bedroom door lockable etc. It was fortunate that her more deadly powers, like her cold breath or heat vision, didn’t like to unconsciously stretch themselves as well while she slept. Floating above the covers, even bumping her head on the ceiling was one thing, but blasting holes through it, or the walls or floor would be something else entirely.

She remembered the dream after the fact more than experienced it in the moment, at least the first time. A glorious sunset in late summer in Smallville, where Clark and Lois lived and tended the Kent farm. Lois continuing to write for the Daily Planet as a guest reporter and editor and Clark, when he wasn’t Superman, tending the family farm.

Kara had been brought up by them from the age of seven, the age she had been when she had finally landed on Earth. She had attended junior high in Smallville and had started dating early, at fourteen. Clark having decided to allow it in order for Kara to get practice with developing human relationships as well as keeping her powers under control without his direct supervision.

The first date she’d agreed to had been the football team’s sixteen-year-old quarterback. It seemed almost predestined, she being the prettiest fourteen-year-old in the school as well as the head cheerleader, even though there were older girls than her on the team. The cheerleading had been her first physical hobby, though her father didn’t allow her to use her powers to gain an advantage. The athleticism of it had snatched her attention and had initiated an interest in the gym and fitness, and then weight training, at least to a degree. Of course, the quarterback had been an almost stereotypical example of himself. Arrogant, dumb, egotistical narcissistic, not in the least bit academic and of course a bully. He had borrowed his father’s prize 1950 customised Mercury Monterey.

Although she was still developing physically, and only stood around five foot four and weighed barely over ninety pounds, slender and coltish, her breasts had developed early, and at fourteen she was already wearing a D-cup and already had the large pair of breasts of any student at the school.

Throughout her early teens Kara had her hair cut short and wavy, in a take on the fairy Tinkerbell from Peter Pan, an animated children’s film she had thoroughly enjoyed, since her very first year on Earth.

For her first date with Luke, the jock, she had dressed in a short sleeved silky blouse, which with the jut of her breasts lifted the bottom in line with her navel, flashing her waist and the creamy skin of her abdominals easily. She also wore a tie-side wrap-around miniskirt that featured a double layer of satin fabric, white knee socks and white Converse platform sneakers.

Disappointingly, Luke wore blue jeans, a plain black T-shirt and his high school team’s Letterman bomber jacket. Which he almost always wore. So, no effort applied at all then.

They went to the local drive-in theatre. He picked the movie. He also met some of his teammates there and chatted with them part of the way through the film, ignoring Kara. When he wasn’t ignoring her, he was trying to paw at her tits and sticking his tongue in her ear, all in the presence of his teammates; showing off and embarrassing her while she was trying to enjoy the movie.

Afterwards, he had driven Kara to the river’s edge and parked up under a tree. A well-known spot for dating couples to make out. Which, of course he immediately tried to do. If he hadn’t acted like such an asshole during the movie, she might have let him get to second base, maybe even afforded him a hand-job, but she was annoyed and impatient. She had asked him to take her home after the movie and instead he had deliberately and belligerently driven in the opposite direction. And then pinned her to the passenger street and started to grope her breasts and force his tongue into her mouth.

Early on, Kal-L had introduced Kara to Richard Dragon. And he had taught her a broad spectrum of martial arts for two years before she had started junior high school. She was able to use her super powers in more ways than simply super-strength punching and kicking. She understood the art of flexibility, how to use the way joints twisted and didn’t twist to control opponents, she knew locks and takedowns and grapples and holds. All very handy when you needed to conceal your true strength while protecting yourself from attack by a human you could tear into piece like sheets of tissue paper if you wanted to.

Kara used a wrist lock and a simple arm bar to choke Luke into sobbing terrified submission. Then she carried his dazed and weakened body and tossed him into the trunk of the car before driving it back to his father’s house in the hills, the rich part of Smallville. A servant came out to greet his employer’s son, shocked to find fourteen-year-old Kara Kent behind the driver’s seat. “If you’re looking for Luke, the abusive misogynist prick is in the trunk.” She said and then strolled away. Once she was well concealed in the tree line that surrounded the large mansion-like house, she took to the air, too fast to be spotted by the human eye, and headed home.

The next Monday morning, Kara was met in school by looks and sniggering and snippets of gossip her superhuman hearing picked up. She found Luke who was surrounded by his teammates and smugly grinning at her. She walked straight up to him and slammed her fist into his gut. Careful to temper the strength she pounded into his muscular stomach - closer to a slap by Tom Cruise than a punch by Samo Hung.

She had followed the crowded corridor display of violence with a threat. “I hear about anyone spreading lies and gossip about me, they’ll get the same fucking treatment.” Though Kara had pulled her punch, Luke still had to miss the next game and she had been suspended for a week.

Within six months Kara was dating again. This time a much nicer kid by the name of Michael Barett Stevens, Kara gave him the nickname ‘Shaky’ though no one seemed to understand why. By this time Kara had shot up to five-foot-nine. And all the weight-training, and gym, and the athletics and cheerleader training had noticeably broadened and thickened her muscular physique. However, even without an ounce of body fat, her breasts had continued to fill out and she was now into F-cup bras.

Though far from the best-looking guy in school, Shaky was everything Kara desired. They enjoyed many of the same forms of entertainment, they were both culturally interested beyond the borders of their home country, they shared moral concerns about modern capitalism, that other people, students and teachers alike deplored as ‘socialism’ where the younger daters knew better.

Shaky spent time with Kara, listened to her, supported her. He defended her vocally and at times physically, though it rarely ended well for him, against the continued animosity from the jocks, and many of the supporters of the school’s football team, as her gut punch had cost the team’s placement in the county and state line-up dearly. Of course, he lusted after Kara just as much as anyone, and was clear about his sexual desire for her, but she felt safe in Shaky’s company and she trusted him not to pressure her and that trust was quickly rewarded. She let him get much further that the jock ever had.

First base was met on their first date, and almost second base. In fact, when he kissed her goodnight, she actually slid her hand gently up and down the engorged lump in his slacks for a few seconds. And partially teasing, she gave him “masturbatory material for when you get home.” by unbuttoning the top few buttons of her blouse and letting have a good long look at her braless breasts inside the silvery satin blouse, and giving his cock a surreptitious caress while he stared slack jawed and bulging eyed.

Their second date was almost an unpleasant reminder of her single date with Luke the jock. A drive-in movie and then a stop off at the river back afterwards. However, Shaky asked Kara to choose the movie (A subtitled Hong Kong double bill of The Prodigal Son and Last Hurrah for Chivalry), films they would both enjoy.

During the intermission between the two movies, Kara took Shaky onto the back seat and for the fifteen minutes they fooled around, going straight from first, to second and then third base. She surreptitiously used her heat and cold powers to fog up the windows of Shaky’s old Dodge Monaco and then she stripped naked for him, while he sucked her nipples and gorged himself on her huge perky breasts. And then with ten minutes to go she pushed him back onto the seat and levered out his erection. She attempted to go down on him at once, but he ‘over powered’ her, instead pulling her into a sixty-nine position. He informed her in a hushed, excited whisper that he had been looking up on-line how to perform cunnilingus and was desperate to give it a go. And then, not waiting for the okay, he started with gentle kisses around her hairless swollen vulva, before gently tasting the slickness of her hot inner core. Kara was enjoying his attentions but she knew they wouldn’t have enough time. Besides, she had plans. Allowing him to play with her pussy to his heart’s content, she used her own position atop him to explore his erection.

At first, she took a few a few seconds to stroke and squeeze the impressive shaft with her hands - his cock was actually rather impressive, close to seven inches and surprisingly thick. She kissed and licked gently at the hot purple glans, enjoying the little moans coming from between her firm thighs, as well as the little twitches dancing through both his cock and his spread legs. Then she went to town. She sucked him in deep and used firm suction on his hot, hard meat, using her powers to hold her breath so she could deep-throat him. Even though she gagged repeatedly and he tried to pull her lips off him, thinking she was suffering for his pleasure, she kept it up enjoying the obvious physical and vocal signs of the pleasure she was giving him. Though she didn’t use her powers to aid in the suction or speed of her bobbing movements.


Still licking and suckling her delicate labia, Shaky was doing delightful things to her clitoris. His hands were between their bodies, cupping and fondling her breasts and stroking the tips of her stiff nipples, however he was no longer able to concentrate on putting into action all he had learned. His efforts had become uncoordinated and even a little half hearted. Kara felt a little sorry for him, but she knew she was going to give him plenty of chance later on to show her what he was capable of.

It took him no more than two minutes to climax and Kara swallowed his plentiful and surprisingly sweet and viscous load.

They had five minutes left over to re-dress, climb back into the front of the Monaco and wipe down the inside of the windshield, before the second movie started. They snuggled in close together on the bench seat enjoying the film and the afterglow of their mutual pleasure and rapidly growing love.

Afterwards, considering the idea of replacing a bad experience with a good one, Kara had interrupted Shaky’s excited chatter about the two films, and had asked him to drive them to the riverbank for a little while before he took her home. Confused but in love and more than happy to spend more time with Kara, the seventeen-year-old readily agreed and drove straight there. They parked up in the shadow of a tree, away from the couple of other cars present and again Kara pulled her boyfriend into the back of his car.

She asked him if he was ready for the both of them to lose their virginities together, that she was ready and she wanted to do it with him right now in his car. He said that absolutely he was ready, but he loved her and needed to know that she wasn’t feeling any pressure from him or anyone else. She reassured him with a grin and stripped off her clothing. After one final, half-hearted plea for reassurance, he stripped off too and they fell together, making out and caressing each other’s bodies.

Shaky had verbally marvelled at the perfection of Kara Kent’s figure, moaning, again and again how stunning and amazing she was, how much he loved her and desired her and couldn’t believe what she was agreeing to do with him. Giggling, she gently motioned him down between her muscular thighs, halfway begging him to try out those oral techniques for a second time. That she wanted to see if his boasting was really warranted. He was more than happy to comply.

Shaky was pretty good, with his tongue and his determination. But Kara realised that he needed to pay better attention to her cues, to learn to read her reactions, to understand what she enjoyed most and what would get her off. Still, she was well on the way to an orgasm when she decided to switch things up and get him to take her virginity, and of course, lose his own. She gently cupped the sides of his head in both hands and pulled his mouth from her throbbing crotch.

  “Take me. I’m ready and I’m yours.” She gasped, looking up into his big hazel eyes. “Push your cock in me, let’s pop our cherries together. Right now.”

He actually groaned in response and kissed her. There was another few seconds of foreplay, Shaky lying on her body, her legs spread wide, heels pressing the undersides of his taut buttocks. His hardness was sandwiched between their pubic mounds, the underside caressing up and down her slick pussy lips as he almost subconsciously rolled his hips forward and back, stroking her with his meat. His hands were cupping and caressing her full perky breasts while their lips mashed together, tongues performing a quick dance from mouth to mouth, the both of them moaning out their mutual, rampant desire.

Unwilling to wait any longer, Kara reached between them and grabbed his erection, drawing it gently downward, spreading her lips until the blunt swollen head caught in the tight mouth of her virgin tunnel. Following her lead, as well as his animal instinct, Shaky thrust forward. Kara felt the slickness of her juices embrace him and then came the abrupt blockage of her membrane.

  “You’ll have to shove it in hard, Shake. And I mean hard.” She gasped, holding him close to her.

He stared into her passion-filled crystal blue eyes. Their lips still touching, though with a butterfly softness. Tongues touching, little dabs of desire. She couldn’t hold back the panting moans.

  “You sure, Kara?”

  “Absolutely. Prove how much I turn you on. Do me, just like you’ve always wanted to.”

  “Okay. I love you, Kara. Forever.”

  “I love you too.”

She reached down, filling her hands with his buttocks and pulling gently upward, urging him to thrust and tear away her hymen. He grunted as he drove forward but her hymen didn’t give. She knew it would take a lot of effort; she wasn’t any old horny fifteen-year-old. She was Kryptonian.

  “Hard I said, don’t think you can hurt me, Shaky. You can’t. Hard, I’m not gonna break.”

He stared down at her eyes wide, shocked and apparently concerned. She changed tactic.

  “Fuck me, Shake! Fuck me!” She urged, more forcefully.

  “I don’t want to fuck you. I want to make love! I love you. I want it to be beautiful.”

  “Bullshit. I’m all tits and ass, I’m sex on fucking legs and you know it. Forget the love-making for now, that can come later. You wanna take me! Brand me as yours with your cock. You’re hot for me and you wanna fuck me. You own me! Now shove it in there, like I know you want to!”

Responding to the urgency of her lust, he growled, coiled all his strength and rammed inward as hard as he could. Kara’s little squeal, half for his benefit and half honest combination of pain and pleasure, was drowned out by a near-bellow of raging victorious joy and accomplishment from the seventeen-year-old, as his cock slammed, abruptly balls deep, in to the girl of his dreams.

Immediately he started jackhammering into her, full depth, as fast and hard as he could. He was out of control, blinded by the animal lust she had conjured within him, and pure physical gratification. Kara was glad she had sucked the jizz from his balls a couple of hours earlier, or he would no doubt have climaxed already by now.

Her own building orgasm, having waned from ending his delightful oral assault on her, caught halfway up her ascending ladder of pleasure, appearing out of nowhere and almost overwhelming her. Each thrust, each time that hot spongy head of his erection thumped against her throbbing uterus shoved her up another couple of rungs.

Before she knew it an almighty wave of delicious tingling warmth washed over her, all but wiping out her senses, all she could feel was heat and the rapid cardiac rhythm of his hot, hard penis thrusting in and out of her. It felt as fast as an engine piston, and each thrust added to the hot wave that continued to expand like a pressure bubble, overwhelming her, her brain momentarily shorted out.

One some level, Kara heard Shaky’s shriek, as he climaxed too, and felt a sudden blast of wetness inside her pulsating, gripping vagina. At some point he had stopped thrusting and collapsed onto her, but she hardly registered his own completion, carried off in the throes of her own climax.

It might have been a few minutes before she came back into her body. He lay on her, a dead weight. Not moving. Her pussy leaking their mingled fluids. However, it was the smell catching in her nostrils that was her first warning. Sharp and metallic. The smell of blood.

But it was too much simply to be the result of her dislodged hymen. And then as her senses returned with clarity, a dark dread sealed itself around Kara. He wasn’t breathing. The smell of blood was too strong. He wasn’t breathing. She could only hear her own heartbeat. He wasn’t breathing. His heart wasn’t beating. Shaky wasn’t…

She tore herself out from under him, terrified, her inner thighs and pubic mound coated in thick, dark blood. Shaky slumped face down on the back seat, arms limp, legs akimbo, awash with his own blood. It was still leaking unhurriedly from his groin.

Kara could feel something inside her, crushed, cold and slimy and bloody. Inside her. She screamed, her body automatically ejecting Shaky’s crushed and severed penis. The blood was everywhere. His eyes were open but unfocussed glassy. Dead.

She screamed. She shouted his name over and over. She begged him to look at her, to move. Not to be dead. She screamed. Desperate. Grief stricken. Horrified. She exploded out of the windshield into the night sky. She screamed. Almost mindless.

And then Kal-L was there. Her father. He saw it for what it was. He took her into his arms without a word and held her, held her tight, up in the high clouds and she screamed and wept.

He took her to the fortress of solitude. He brought her mother to her, leaving them together while he saw to the body. He moved the car from the riverbank. He launched it at over a hundred miles per hour into a telegraph pole, on a quiet road somewhere between the Kent farm and the Stevens’ residence.

Michael Barett Steven, positioned in the drivers’ seat, no safety belt, until the car struck the pole. The body flew past the pole until it found a nearby tree and burst apart, obliterated itself against the thick trunk, breaking almost every bone, lacerating and pulping just about every inch of flesh. No one would question the damage around the boy’s groin amongst all the other injuries.

Of course, Kara was inconsolable. Of course, Kara blamed herself, and hated her Kryptonian powers. No matter how many times her father told her it was an accident, and that even he couldn’t have foreseen such an eventuality. There were no other Kryptonians on Earth, no one to teach her the pitfalls of being female on this planet.

Of course, Kara went on a downward spiral and Kal-L had to fight hard for a couple of years to keep her safe. And keep Smallville safe from Kara.


Kara dreamed.      

She was eighteen and deep into her punk phase, ripped leathers, fishnets, heavy make-up. Showing off her curves far too much. No underwear. Back in school after her third suspension - For inappropriate dress, language, attitude. Aggression.

Two boys, delinquents like her, had followed her into the girl’s washroom. They should all have been in class so the corridors and the washroom itself were all deserted. She was pinned to the wall, kissed against her will, felt up, groped.

She slapped one of them. Lightly, not even seriously. She wanted to be punished and what they were already doing wasn’t punishment enough, so she provoked them. They forced kisses on her, tore her clothing, pulled items off, cruelly groped her tits, pulled her nipples until her whole breast was stretched away from her chest. Trying to upset her, trying to make her cry, trying to bully her into submission. She just felt bored.

Fingers were shoved in her pussy. Erect cocks came out. She was shoved to her knees. She took a cock in her mouth, considered biting it off, but that reminded her. She let the boy throat-rape her, let him empty his balls down her gullet. It only took a few seconds. He was embarrassed and that made him angry. He punched and kicked her but he might as well have been punching and kicking a concrete mannequin.


The other lad pushed him back, told Kara to get down on her hands and knees. She did do. He knelt behind her, penetrated her, instigated his rape. The other lad goaded him into sticking it up her ass instead. “Rip the dirty whore up real good.”. The boy took his friend’s suggestion. Kara considered clenching her sphincter, picturing a cigar cutter at work. But that was also a reminder. She jerked backward with her toned, shapely buttocks and knocked him on his ass. The two boys punched and kicked her, she let out a few mock grunts and whimpers of pain.

She was shoved over onto her back and the second boy went at her again, this time he lay on top missionary and started to rape her pussy. For a moment, Kara saw Shaky on top of her joyfully thrusting away and she snapped, snarled and opened her eyes wide, let the heat vision come.

They boys instantly became nothing but black streaks of ash on the floor. Nuclear shadows across the poured concrete. Kara caused the toilets to flood, washing the evidence away and then got out of the school before anyone connected the two disappearances with her.

The boys’ whereabouts became a never solved mystery. Kal-L suspected. But Kara never said a thing about it.

She had herself sectioned into a mental hospital facility, but her father brought her out. There was too much of a risk to her Kryptonian identity being discovered. He took her instead to their Fortress of Solitude, slipped her into her Symbioship - the vessel inside which she had travelled, in suspended animation, from Krypton to Earth - and used the virtual reality technology inside to help her.

Projections of Kryptonian family and friends who had kept Kara company on her journey through space aided her once again. She was helped to vent her pain, helped with talking therapies to come to terms with her loss and guilt. And to help her make the adjustments to accepting safe and from then on nonsexual relationships with humans.


Kara dreamed.  

She was Supergirl, fighting alongside her father. The two of them, in almost matching costumes, taking half the globe each while using Smallville and Metropolis as their homebase. Joining forces whenever it was required, which was hardly at all. Kara was the equal to Kal-L in powers if not experience, though of course, she bowed to his leadership. However, more often than not, he recognised that his young-adult daughter/older cousin did not require his leadership or his guidance at all.

Returning from averting a nuclear disaster at the Sellafield power station in Cumbria, England, Kara caught sight of an armed robbery at a laboratory on the outskirts of a nearby city, and dropped in to deal with them before taking the return trip over the Atlantic.

She didn’t know about Kryptonite at the time. And the robbers didn’t know what they had robbed. They had simply been following orders. It turned out to be a test by a psychopathic criminal mastermind, to test the ‘theory’ on the Girl of Steel before using it to rid the world of the Man of Steel. The timing had to have been that hardest part, setting up the Sellafield disaster while Superman was busy elsewhere, so that Supergirl would be the one to appear and fly straight into the trap.

Kara landed in the carpark outside the front of the large, flat roof two storey glass and steel building. She felt strange at once but ignored it. These half dozen thieves in masks and old guns from some old World-War might not pose a danger to her. However, stray bullets, ricochets, even bouncing off her could cause unnecessary suffering to bystanders.

She landed right amongst them as they ran across the carpark, on their way to a plain transit van. Her impact cracked the tarmac ground as though she were a bolt of lightning. However, instantly she felt light-headed and dizzy.

She staggered into one of them, and he grabbed her. She swung for one of them but felt as weak as a new born baby, weaker than she had ever felt in her life. Another of the men swung around to the side of her punched her hard in the kidney. It was a horrible numbing explosive ache going off inside her. That shouldn’t be possible, she should be impervious to a human’s punch and every bone in his hand should be broken.

As she half doubled over in pain and weakness, Kara half heard their shouts of surprise and exhilaration, smelled their sudden excitement. There was something wrong with her! She wasn’t a threat! She was weak!

One of them kicked her legs out from under her and she hit the rough concrete, but on the way down, another of them grabbed her cape and yanked it upward as she fell, so that she dangled from it, held up half off the floor by her neck, the fabric digging in and choking her, like an execution victim hanging from a gallows pole.

A couple of kicks to her washboard stomach and thighs. But then one of them, in an east Bradford accent she thought, put a stop to the violence.

  “Whatever this is, it’s a fucking golden opportunity. No one’s ever had a chance to have a ride on one of these mighty heroes before. I say we take full advantage, while we can.”

  “Yeah mate. Fuck her up good and proper.”

  “Mash her holes, and whitewash her insides good and proper.”

  “Drag her over there. On the grass.”

  “Don’t be daft! There’s still lab security, and the filth! Stick her in the van, take her away from here. And then, when we’re somewhere nice and secluded, we can take our time.”

  “There’s that farm, about eight, nine miles from here? You know, where we swiped all that diesel?”

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea. There’s that old garage out by one of the fields. We could park in there and no one’d see us. Not even the farmer checks there. We could stay there all fucking night.”

Kara was bundled up inside her own cape, folded into a foetal position and then trussed up, the corners of the crimson fabric wrapped tight around her, pulled together and then firmly knotted. Then she was lifted up off the ground and carried over to the black Sprinter van they had stolen for the job. She was tossed casually in through its yanked open backdoors. Two of them leaped into the cabin and started the engine while the other four joined Kara in the hold.

  “Who is this anyway? Who’ve we got?”

  “Are you fucking daft! It’s that Supergirl bitch innit! She’s got Superman’s ‘S’ thing across her tits.”

  “Yeah! Have you seen her fucking tits, mate?! Fucking mountain range they are. Puts Pammy and that Anna Nicole Smith to fucking shame she does!”

  “Shoulda called herself some crap like, Pyrenees Girl.”

  “Everest and Kay-Two.”

  “Olympus Mons.”

  “What the fuck are you two dick’eads on about?”

  “Yea, shut the fuck up both of you.”

Kara wasn’t able to move, she felt weak and breathless and overly hot, as though she was sat in front of an oven. Her limbs tingled with pins and needles whenever she tried to move them and she was sweating profusely.

The drive took a while. She tried to summon her heat vision, her cold breath her supersonic voice, either to rupture the engine or call out to her father. But nothing would come. It was all there but she felt disconnected from all her powers.

Mostly the drive was smooth. However, there was a while when the van rocked and bounced over a rutted surface. And one time they might have been temporarily stuck, wheels spinning in muddy ruts, but the driver managed to manoeuvre them out of the rut and the van bucked throwing them about, and then accelerated onward. Finally, they slowed and everything went dark. The van stopped. The engine switched off. There was a dreadful moment of stillness and silence, the only sound the ticking of the cooling engine. And then sound of men breathing in the gloom. Plus, something else. In the hold with her. But it felt less like a sound or vibration more atmospheric pressure or something. Oppressiveness. Kara couldn’t identify it at all.

  “Right then. Time for fun and games. Strip her.” Said the driver. “Get all that Yank-bollocks red and blue shit off her. Keep hold of the belt though, and leave the boots on. The boots look good on her, and I feel like giving her juicy arse a good hard leathering.”


It didn’t take long, they had knives or razor blades and they shredded the fabric of her costume plus her sports bra and high hipline panties. All that was left was her boots. She moaned and whimpered under their assault, but had neither the strength nor the super powers to protect herself.

She had never been in this position before, had never felt defenceless. Never been the victim of humans, not even back in school in the washroom with those two rapist delinquents. She had simply been biding her time, at first wanting their attentions to punish herself and then for the opportunity to come out on top. This was entirely new to her and she felt terrified and so horribly weak.

She didn’t even have the strength to hold herself on her hands and knees when she was ordered to, or earlier, to kneel in the floor of the van while they stood in a circle around her, demanding she suck them all off.

Finally, two of them dragged one of the front seat cushions free from the cabin and slid it under Kara’s shoulders as she lay flopped on her bac. She was completely devoid of strength laid out on the filthy, oil-stained, corrugated floor of the van. With the thick vinyl covered cushion under her back, her head was hanging backward off the edge. Greasy, stained collar length hair spread out like a fan against the van’s floor.

They took their turns using her mouth, none of them lasted more than a couple of minutes, though none of them was trying to. This was a snack, something sweet to take the edge off and make them last longer while enjoying the main course.

Kara was too weak to suck or use her tongue in any way, but the tightness of her oesophagus, along with the wetness and heat of her teenage mouth and throat were more than enough for them to enjoy and use to get themselves off.

To begin with, kneeling at her head with her body stretching away from him, the first of them grabbed hold of her immense tits and used them as a pair of hand holds while he savaged her throat with uncaring hard hammering pelvic thrusts, however the others were too impatient or too enamoured with the size and perfection of her chest, and the leader’s two-handed grip was reluctantly relinquished in order for one of the others to squeeze her awe-inspiring tits tightly around his meat.

Like her mouth, the heat and softness of the feel of her tit cleavage felt unbeatable. Unlike her mouth, there was no natural lubrication. So, undeterred, the men enjoyed a makeshift spit-party. Laughing, all six of them leaned forward, hawking up gobs of warm saliva and spitting the mouthfuls all over the perfect creamy flesh of her fantastic breasts.

Spitting on her felt as much like derogatory degradation as it was simple lubrication of her cleavage, they might as well have been screaming lewd and belittling insults in her face or standing in a circle above her and urinating onto her naked flesh.

Feeling poisoned, weak, exhausted and nauseated, Kara could do nothing. They each took turns though their impatience and frustration were palpable. Her throat was reamed, thick hard cock after cock, sliding forward and back between her lips, across her tongue and deep into the tightness of her gullet, over and over.

Very little effort was given to allowing her to breathe through each experience. Blasts of thick hot spunk pumped into her. It either went straight down her throat, her lips bruised, nose half crushed by the rough slamming thrusts as each man yelled out his climax and jetted it past her lips and into her throat. Or it was shared between throat and mouth, if the erratic hip jerking continued throughout.

Of course, at the same time her tits were mangled between the savage grip of the half dozen misogynists, none of them showing any regard for her discomfort. Rough fingers and palms crushed deep into the firm, though pliant, soft flesh of her breasts. Nipples were gripped, pulled and rolled cruelly between pinching fingers, while the deep, rammed-together cleavage was savaged and reamed even harder than her mouth and throat. Her chin, chest and cleavage were blasted with their slime, searing hot ropes of pearlescent cream scalding her and lashing her flesh.

Though she was dazed and in a barely conscious state, Kara belated realised that by the time they moved on from the upper half of her body she had already taken four loads in her mouth, and the same amount over her bosom. That meant that, each of the six having taken a turn, more than one of them had already emptied his balls over or into her more than once.

It gave them plenty of time to enjoy the rest of her without climaxing too quickly. All Kara could hope for was their impatience and frustration turning to anger, and then that anger being subjected amongst themselves and not upon her. It very much felt like a fifty-fifty chance at best.

Other than the pitch and gruffness of their grunts and in a couple of cases the length and girth of their rape tool, there was little to tell the so-called men apart. She lay there on her front or on her back, taking a shaft inside her sore, savaged vagina - taking the power-thrusts, the pounding of firm hips against her soft flesh, the bruising pain of groping, molesting hands, and not only those of the current rapist - on every part of her body.

At times she was even choked, claw-like hands encircling her long slender throat and cinching tight, cutting off her airway and rising the nausea levels until she was panicking, pulling uselessly at their hands, trying to plead for mercy through her blinding tears. She received none. The hands only releasing her when, on the point of blacking out, her eyes rolled back in her head.

At one point, someone in charge decided he was tired of waiting for yet another turn at shoving his erection inside her. Kara felt herself rolled onto her side as a second man slid up against her back. She had been getting raped in the missionary position, a man lying on top of her holding her pained eyes with his, while he rutted away. And then hands grabbed them both and rolled them onto their sides. Somehow her rapist remained lodged deep inside her though, he had to pause his thrusts for a few seconds. Then the next man was at her back, a thick hot rod of battering ram flesh rubbing between her buttocks, searching out the pinprick-tight mouth of her anus.

Before the interruption came, he had managed to lodge half of his shaft into her ass, causing powerful new waves of pain and distress to half consume the remainder of Kara’s psyche.

The rear doors of the van swung open, throwing light into the filthy blue steel chamber. A youngish man carried a double-barrelled shotgun and there was a dog at his side, barking and growling threateningly.

  “Fucking prick farmer bastard!” One of the rapists yelled.

  “Hey. Let’s just calm down, yeah?” Another one interceded. “What you’re gonna do mate, is you’re gonna put that shotgun down right there and then you’re gonna go straight back to your farmhouse. Then, we’re gonna just drive away. Off your property. No harm no foul.”

  “We’ll be taking the dog though.” Commented another of them. “Make it fuck this super-piece. Now that’d be a real blast!”


  “How about if I take that?” Came the newcomer’s voice, the only voice unaffected by the metallic echo from the inside of the van. “For my trouble, like.”

  “Nah mate. But how about a piece’a this blonde whore. Look at the bod on ‘er. These huge fucking tits? These are real, mate! Don’t you wanna stick your dick in this? Proper world class pussy this is, I’m tellin’ yer.”

  “Maybe I would have, if you lot had hadn’t been there before me. You’ve probably given her all kinds. Might get dick rot now, sticking it in there.”

  “Fuck you, you little fuckin…”

  “Never mind… never mind… He’s just joshin’ we’re all friends here.”

  “What about this ‘ere box though? What’s in here? Cash? Gold?”

  “You can’t have that mate. Sorry. It’s dangerous innit. Like radioactive. Isn’t worth anything. You couldn’t sell it.”

  “Screw the lot of you. I’m taking it and there in’t nothing you can do to stop me. You’ve got her, ain’t cha. Keeping everything for yerself’s just greedy innit!”

Kara heard a scraping noise, in response the naked men around her tensed but didn’t move. In time with that scraping sound, of something plastic and heavy being dragged across corrugated steel, Kara felt the weakness abruptly washing away from her. The weakness, the nausea, the feeling of having been poisoned. All wiped away as if by a sudden gust of wind, or an ocean wave washing away an inch thick covering of poisonous ash.

Suddenly superpowered again, she rose from the floor of the filthy van. Kara drew herself vertical. Her white-hot rage raw and raving in her mind. A sudden uncontrollable mania. 

A sharp and abrupt inhale sucked the rear doors closed, coming together and buckling with a loud metallic shriek. Sheer elemental power crushing the metal shut and sealing the men inside with her. They didn’t survive a further second.

Afterwards, Kara cursed herself for not making their suffering last longer. Her rage had seen to them. She had performed a pirouette unleashing the super-heated nuclear plasma from her eyes, incinerating them all. Or at least the ones tall enough to be caught in her enraged death-stare.

She exploded out of the roof of the van. Naked and immense in the glory of her superlative figure and boundless beauty. Though, in that moment her beauty was tempered by the terrible expression etched into her faultless features.

She unleashed the full force of her heat vision again, turning the sealed interior of the van into an oven. A blast-furnace. Until the roof and walls were molten and bowed inwards and collapsed onto the deck, the liquified bodies somewhere within that smouldering heatwave-cloaked puddle of blackened steel.

Letting go of her rage, which had birthed itself physically as an almighty primal scream, Kara used her breath to flash-freeze the van. Then she shattered it into countless fragments, none larger than a man’s fist. It was as though it had been submerged in liquid nitrogen.

The young farmer, shotgun lying at his feet, still had the plastic box death-gripped in both hands. He stared at her, shocked and terrified, and yet still intensely enamoured. She could smell the sexual arousal, see the erection. Imagine all the fantasies flying around in his sordid little imagination.

  “Please put the box on the ground and then back away from it.”

He seemed to feel that seeing her there, floating three metres above the ground, splendorous in her nudity, was actually some kind of reward for a good deed. She decided to let slide the distinct feeling that if he had gotten there earlier, before she had been gangraped, he would doubtless have agreed to take a turn.

He gave a sudden nod and, unable to drag his eyes from her, he slowly put the box on the ground.

  “Please back away. A couple of yards… That’ll do.”

She opened up again with her heat vision, a focussed projection burning the very air before the twin lances of nuclear heat touched the box and melted it, there was a sliver of a second’s view of a dull green crystal-like rock before it too disintegrated into glinting particles of dust. Kara didn’t stop with the dust, she maintained the heat vision bath until even that had been fully atomised, the powerful heat reducing the very molecular combination of the crystalline rock structure to singular unconnected atoms.

And then, with a little nod of farewell to the horny farmer, the naked Supergirl took to the sky and erupted into the cloud layer, at five or six times the speed of sound, crossing the Atlantic in a matter of seconds.

Fortunately, it was the early hours when she found herself back in Metropolis, so she had been able to access her apartment without being seen.

That had been Supergirl’s initial exposure to the effects the pitfalls of getting too close to Kryptonite. And yet it was far from the final interaction.

You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story