We have never met, Agent 009, though I feel that I know you. You see, like you, I was a member of the Team. Like you, I was recruited into the Agent-X Program and was injected with the Caantonium serum. That was over a year ago, though it seems like yesterday.
I was Agent 005, the second (and supposedly last) female operative to be treated with the serum. My name is Jody Walker—I’ve been told that it is OK that I reveal this to you, as this letter is never to leave the confines of the Compound and I am, in any case, no longer a member of the Team. I suppose this means my value has been greatly diminished, at least in the eyes of the Council. It no longer matters if I am exposed, at least not to them. Therefore, I have been encouraged to be forthcoming in my writings to you. Panther believes that you may benefit from my experiences.
I have been told that we look similar to one another. I am five foot nine, and like you I have blonde, straight, shoulder length hair, and blue eyes. My figure is trim and athletic, accentuated by long legs and a good build. I’m twenty-two years old.
I was the fifth agent to be injected with the serum. The Program was hell, at least at first. I received an injection every three days. During the first couple of weeks, I was sure that I was going to die. The headaches were unbearable, I couldn’t keep anything down, and sleep was elusive. It is no wonder that only those of us who are in the absolute best physical condition are recruited for the Program. Death is a real possibility during the first two weeks.
It gradually got better after that. The headaches subsided and I was able to eat, though sleep still proved hard to come by. And things really started to happen. As with the previous four agents, the Caantonium changed my cell structure, granting me incredible strength and endurance. It also granted me a degree of invulnerability. Though my skin still feels the same, soft and smooth, it is extremely tough. I’ll never forget the first time Panther shot me with his .45-- I thought I was dead for sure, but the slug ricocheted off me without breaking the skin. Left a nasty bruise and hurt like hell, though, and if I had not been so thankful to be alive I probably would have shoved Panther’s head through the wall. Kind of wish I had, now.
And as with the other agents, the Caantonium serum provided me with a special power. All of us were strong and tough but it was our special powers that really set us apart. For Agent 001, it was the ability to project powerful pulses of electrostatic energy from his hands. Agent 002 was able to phase, essentially becoming invisible for short periods of time. Agent 003 was able to create objects of “solid
light” that remained in existence as long as she concentrated on them. Agent 004 had powerful telekinetic abilities.
My special power wasn’t immediately known. But one day, while working out in the Octagon, I had to dive to catch the last of the eight quantoballs. I remember leaping and stretching out to my full length, horizontal to the steel floor, and thinking how good I would look grabbing this final ball and finishing the training session with a flourish. But as I wrapped my fingers around the ball it vanished and I grabbed nothing but air.
“Oh, shit!” I said aloud. I could almost hear Panther laughing (though he never does). It was an illusion, a trap. The first seven quantoballs had been purposely easy, meant to raise my confidence and make me susceptible to a mistake. It was a simple plan, but I had fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.
I knew something worse was coming and it did. The steel floor parted beneath me, two trap doors falling away to reveal a seven-foot deep pit. At the bottom was a checkerboard of electric coils. I was familiar enough with the Octagon to know that the coils wouldn’t kill me when I came into contact with them, but they would hurt like hell and I would end up looking damn stupid. My only chance was to continue my dive and grab the far edge of the pit entrance.
But I was already fully extended and the edge was just too far away. Still, I hate to lose. With a groan of extreme effort, I willed myself to grab the ledge and I suddenly felt my body surge forward. It should not have been possible but my body actually seemed to accelerate through the air. My angle of attack was all wrong, though, and instead of going towards the ledge I found myself heading below it, straight for the far wall of the pit. Instinctively, I swiveled my hips downward to adjust my angle and
reached for the edge of the pit with my hands. I apparently over corrected—Though my fingers were just inches from the edge of the pit, they were above the lip, reaching down!
“This can’t be!” I remember mumbling to myself as I zoomed up and over the edge of the pit, leaving it behind me. But now I had a new problem. No longer a prisoner of gravity, and still accelerating, my body was headed straight for the far wall of the Octagon. Interlaced within the stainless steel mesh of the wall, jagged six-inch spikes, used in climbing exercises, threatened to impale me.
A muffled scream escaped my lips as I raised my arms in front of my face and closed my eyes. The Caantonium has made me tough but at the speed I was now moving I had little doubt that the steel spikes on the wall would rip into my flesh. But the impact never came—I opened my eyes and the wall was inches from me, but I was stationary, floating in space.
I looked around, bewildered by what had happened, unsure if I was awake or simply dreaming.
But it was true. I was flying. I had discovered my special power.
In the days to come, I explored the limits of my abilities, zipping around the Octagon at high speed, performing loops and rolls, feeling the pure elation of flight. To this day, I don’t think I could have been blessed with a better power.
Eventually, the injections were stopped. My powers were permanent. I was a full-fledged member of the Team and ready for action. At first, the Council assigned me to simple missions-- recon, sentry duty, and the like. Stuff intended to be an extension of my training more than a real test of my skills. I was anxious for something more, but before I could go on a real mission the Agent-X program was hit with its first major disaster. An agent had been killed. Agent 003 was the first female recruited into the Program, and the only female other than me. As I said earlier, her special power was the ability to create objects of solid light out of nothingness. Her objects could take any shape—cubes, spheres, pillars, more complicated and dangerous shapes like swords and axes, shields, ladders, ropes—you name it.
Though made of “solid light”, her objects always appeared completely black. Her objects were very durable and remained in existence as long as she concentrated on them. Although she was limited to a single object at any one time, Agent 003 had become adept at quickly switching between one object and another. She was very powerful.
In battle, Agent 003 was nearly unmatched. Her death came to us as a great shock. But what was most surprising to us was that this great warrior did not die in combat. She died in bed with a man screwing her.
It was at this point that the Program scientists came to realize our one great vulnerability. For although the Caantonium serum grants us great powers, it also inflicts us with a great weakness. I am not sure of the technical reasons for our weakness. The scientists rattled off some mumbo-jumbo that I didn’t really care about. All I know is that it has something to do with the changes to our cell structure. The same changes that give us our powers also make us susceptible to the Sartak—a sort of system shock that overcomes us when we are sensually stimulated.
Agent 003 succumbed to the Sartak. She slipped away from the compound for a night on the town. She wasn’t supposed to—none of us were to have a life outside of the Program. But when you have solid light powers, I guess you can do pretty much whatever you want.
She didn’t know. How could she? But when she took a lover, it killed her. It was supposed to be a one-night stand but it ended up being the last night of her life. Agent 003 was literally fucked to death.
After a thorough investigation, the scientists determined that the Sartak, for whatever reason, only affects female agents. No one knows why. It’s our kryptonite, our Achilles heel. And the Council decided that it could not expend further resources on agents with such a weakness. From that point forward, they decided, only male agents would be accepted into the Agent-X Program.
You, Agent 009, are proof that they have reconsidered this decision. But at the time, I was left without any recourse. I had become a second-class citizen. A member of Agent-X team but not really a member. Never mind that I could kick the butts of most of the other agents. I was deemed unfit to take on the really difficult missions. It was unfair and so I left.
To date, I am the only agent ever to leave the team. I know that my name is now rarely spoken inside the Program. I am shunned. But you know what? I don’t care. I really don’t. I am making a difference on the outside. I am fighting for the little guy, the weak, the helpless. I am battling evil on a
daily basis and I am seeing more action than I ever would have with the team. Screw the Council. I am Ms. Marvelous.
I selected Megapolis as my new home for a variety of reasons. It’s a big city with lots of crime and lots of criminals, and therefore lots of action. There are other superheroes here, so the police are used to cutting us some slack. Yes, it’s a dangerous place, but that’s the way I like it.
I decided right away that I wanted to keep my identity secret. I got an apartment and a job as a computer analyst, both downtown. Panther won’t like hearing this but I still have contacts inside the
Program. One of the scientists helped me create a costume. It’s mostly red, and fits me like a second skin. It’s made of a very hi-tech material, the name of which I can’t begin to pronounce much less spell.
But my scientist friend called the material “unstable molecules”. All I can tell you is that it is very durable, which is good since if I can survive most explosions I want my costume to survive, too.
My costume covers my shoulders and arms completely. The shoulders are black, as are the forearms and hands, giving the appearance that I am wearing gloves, though it’s actually more of body suit kind of thing. I cover the top half of my face with a black mask. But my nose is exposed and the eyeholes are ridiculously large. If someone who knows me as Jody Walker gets a good look at me, up close like, they’ll probably be able recognize me through the mask. At the center of my chest is a black star, my logo you might say. About two inches below the star, the costume tapers in either direction
towards each of my hips. It does the same thing in back, leaving my midriff and most of my back bare. It has a wide, black bikini bottom that rises high on my hips. I call it a bikini bottom because that is what it looks like, though in fact it is attached to the rest of the costume at the sides. It’s a one piece, really.
My legs are bare, except for the knee-high black boots that I wear. The boots are made from unstable molecules, too, and are just as tight fitting and durable as the rest of my costume. I love my costume. The bright red, the black, and the creamy white of my skin make for a great color combination. In all, it is very revealing, I know, but I don’t care. In fact, I like displaying my great body and if it has the added benefit of distracting my male opponents then so much the better.
It did not take long after my arrival in Megapolis for the citizens of this great city to catch their first glimpse of Ms. Marvelous. I was flying over lower downtown, just above the tops of the buildings, when I caught sight of an automobile accident. One of the cars, a Volkswagon Beetle, had collided with a van, flipped onto its side, and caught fire. Even from my great height above the street, I could see the danger that the growing flames represented. A crowd of people had gathered nearby and some were getting too close to the fire.
I landed in front of the crowd and was pleased to hear the gasps of surprise that my entrance generated. Without hesitation I approached the burning vehicle—I could feel the heat from the flames but knew that I could endure them for a short while. My worst fears were realized, as inside the car and struggling to escape was a terrified woman. Unable to reach the driver’s side door, which was now above her, she frantically pounded on the windshield with her fists, but was unable to break through the strong glass.
I did not want to shatter the windshield and risk cutting the woman, so I flew to the top of the overturned Beetle so that I was near to the door. I reached down I dug my fingers into the steel panels and yanked it upwards. I guess I pulled harder than I needed to, as the door was literally ripped off its hinges and ended up flying through the air before crashing to the street near the crowd of onlookers. Relieved that the door had not come down on someone, I reached down through the open doorway of the Beetle and easily pulled the woman from the burning wreckage. I grasped her gently and quickly flew her to safety. I turned her around and looked into her face, fully expecting to see gratitude. Instead, I saw nothing but distress.
“My son! My son is still in the car!” she screamed.
Without hesitation, I flew back to the car and peered inside the destroyed door hatch. There was nobody there. Then I noticed some onlookers on the opposite side of the street from which I had come. They were waving wildly, trying to get my attention, and pointing to the rear of the vehicle. I leaped off the car and went to look. There, his legs pinned beneath the right rear fender, was the woman’s son. He appeared to be about ten or eleven years old, unconscious, and in big trouble. The growing flames now threatened to engulf the car. The heat was growing unbearable, even for me. I knew that the boy must
be getting roasted alive and that I had to act quickly. Jumping closer to the car and the flames, I grabbed on to the base of the rear bumper and…
“Yooowww!” I pulled my hands back. The bumper was hot. Real hot. But the boy was dying. I had to do something. Again I latched onto the bumper with my hands. Ignoring the pain I pulled upward with all my strength. I’m strong. I have the strength of ten men. The burning Beetle was no match for me and I lifted it off the boy and flipped it back onto its tires.
But the movement of the car had unforeseen consequences. Like moving a log on a dying fire, fresh oxygen hit the flames and they flared, unfortunately straight into me. Searing pain shot through me as I was momentarily roasted and I quickly leapt backward and away from the burning car. I wasn’t seriously hurt but I feared that the boy may have been badly burned and possibly even killed.
“Great,” I thought to myself. “My first act in this city and I get a kid killed.” But to my relief, his position on the ground, low to the street, protected him and the flames passed harmlessly overhead.
Still, I knew he wouldn’t last long in the scorching heat, so braving the flames one last time I swept in and picked the boy up on the fly and carried him away from the burning Beetle.
I set the boy down at his mother’s feat. She was sobbing but I didn’t have time to reassure her. I checked the boy’s pulse and pulled back his eyelids and checked his eyes one at a time, looking for a reaction. I opened his mouth and checked that he had not swallowed his tongue. Everything looked good. He was still unconscious and his clothes were singed, and he no doubt had some burns, but it looked promising.
I could hear the sirens of emergency vehicles approaching-- my cue to make a dramatic exit. With a last look at the thankful mother and a wave to the crowd, I lifted my right hand above my head and streaked up into the night sky and out of sight.
It feels good being a hero. It is more satisfying than anything I ever did for the Program. I continued my patrols over the next several nights. The power of flight gives me exceptional range, and rarely does a night go by that I do not find some situation that requires my attention. My second night in the city, I stopped a mugging. My third night, I rescued a young girl that had fallen into a drainage canal and nearly drowned. On my fourth night I rescued an elderly man who had tripped and fallen from a fire escape. And on my fifth night, I encountered the Reavors.
It started out the same as the other nights, with a quick patrol at dusk followed by a more thorough patrol around midnight. It was on the latter patrol that I heard a scream not far from my current path. After a brief search I found the source of the disturbance--a dark alley in the heart of the River District.
The River District is a ten block square area of aging and abandoned buildings, warehouses, and failed businesses, all snuggled between a large bend in the river. Though once prosperous, this part of town has long since become home to the dredges of society-- drug dealers, prostitutes, bums and drunks, and gang bangers. Especially gang bangers. They have taken the district over, made it their home. So violent and dangerous has this part of town become that people have started calling it Dark Water.
Water, because of the nearby river, and Dark, because of the people that inhabit it.
And on this night, the bangers had found a victim. She was a young woman, in her early twenties, with dark hair, pretty. They had her surrounded, at the far end of the alley, eight of them, and were obviously intent on having their way with her.
She was panic stricken, screaming every time one of the bangers made a movement toward her.
They were having fun, in no hurry, enjoying the power that they had over her, the fear that they were able to instill in her. They took turns lunging at her, pinching her on her breasts or arms or legs, making her scream before backing off and giving the next banger his turn. I could only guess at how she had ended up here, in this place, at this time of night. It was a good thing that I was here, too.
I landed lightly at the entrance to the alley, disappointed that they didn’t notice me. My red and black costume is practically painted on and reveals a lot of skin. My golden blonde hair shimmers, even at night. Usually, I get noticed right away.
I assumed a cocky stance, my feet spread and my hands on my hips, cleared my voice, loudly, and spoke. “Hello, boys. Why don’t you try playing with me?”
A couple of the bangers turned to face me and then alerted their buddies to my presence. As is typical with members of the same gang, their dress was nearly identical from the first man to the last,
with all wearing black heavy denim jackets, the sleeves cut off at the shoulders, and black denim jeans. A few wore blue bandanas on their heads or wrapped around their biceps. All sported a logo of a snake wrapped around a knife on their jackets, sewn into the denim with heavy blue thread. It reminded me of the insignia used by the medical services in the military, though much more sinister. Their gang colors, it seemed, were black and blue, which kind of made sense as they were obviously nothing more than a bunch of young thugs.
As they looked at me they seemed to like what they saw and I have to admit that their leering and scowling faces filled me with some anxiety. I haven’t had my powers all that long, you see, and the fear that a woman has for evil men doesn’t just go away because you wake up strong one morning. I guess they saw the brief loss of confidence on my face because any hesitancy that they may have had at taking on a costumed heroine vanished and three of them quickly rushed me.
As for me, any anxiety that I may have been feeling was soon replaced by the sheer elation of physical combat. As the fastest of the bangers reached me, I simply sidestepped to my left and clotheslined him with my right arm. His own forward momentum did most of the damage and his feet when flailing over his head. He landed hard, facedown on the pavement, having completed a very nice back flip.
“Eight point five!” I said brashly as if a judge scoring his gymnastics.
My step to the left put me directly in the path of the second onrushing banger but again I used my attacker’s own momentum against him. As he attempted to grab me I slid my arms inside of his and grabbed onto his heavy denim jacket. I fell backward, pulling him with me, and brought my legs up and underneath his torso. With an effortless push, I sent him spiraling head over heals to land on the pavement even farther away than his friend. Meanwhile, I continued my roll and ended up back on my feet, in a crouch, ready for the third banger.
“Nine point zero!”
He played it a bit smarter than his buddies, slowing up a bit and winging a haymaker left at my head. I easily avoided the punch and countered with a leg sweep that connected perfectly and toppled him onto his back. He grunted as the air was forcibly expelled from his lungs by his impact on the cement floor of the alley and knew that I had plenty of time to finish him before he recovered. Remaining in my crouch, I positioned myself and brought my right arm down to deliver a karate chop to his chest. Had I wanted to, I could have driven my hand right through him—instead, I pulled the punch, striking him just hard enough to incapacitate him for the rest of what I figured would be a short fight.
“Nine point five!”
I was feeling pretty good about things at this point. I had wiped out three of the eight bangers in about six seconds. Two of them probably still had some fight left in them, but the third was out for good. I half expected to turn and see the remaining bangers fleeing for their lives, but all I saw instead was a brief glimpse of a steel-toed boot coming fast for my jaw.
It connected solidly, snapping my head back and sending me sprawling across the pavement. I’m tough and it didn’t hurt all that much, but despite my invulnerability I still only weigh a hundred and thirty pounds. A hard blow with momentum behind it is going to affect me the same way it would affect any normal person. It is going to throw me.
“It’s good!” the banger turned and yelled back to his gang. And, to tell the truth, I did feel as if I had just been kicked through the uprights. But his momentary delay gave me all the opening I needed and when his smiling face turned back to me I smashed his kisser with a straight right. In the excitement of the moment I hit him too hard-- his head swiveled around toward the rear of the alley and splintered teeth showered his gang brethren.
I regretted hitting the banger so hard. Yes, he was a bad guy, and yes, he had just kicked me in the chops, but I’m really not into hurting people, even bad guys. I’ve been gifted with great powers but I don’t want to use my powers to hurt others. Yes, I want to rid the world of evil, but I don’t necessarily want to permanently injure people, even if they happen to be evil.
But they definitely wanted to hurt me. Rather than run for it, as I hoped and expected they would, the remaining bangers became incensed. The biggest of the group, a powerfully built black man with a nasty scar on his cheek, took a couple of steps forward. “You fucking cunt! You think you can
come into Reavor territory and stick your nose into our business? We’re going to fuck you over, bitch!”
With a motion of his hand, this apparent leader signaled the other three to surround me. I had been waiting for this moment, as I had been afraid that the bangers would get smart and use their captive against me. I didn’t want a hostage situation and now the young woman had an opening to escape. She saw the opening, too, and didn’t disappoint me. Without a look back she hightailed it to the front of the alley and around the corner.
Meanwhile, the three bangers had pulled knives, which weren’t the only things they had been carrying in their pants. They had been getting worked up for a rape and I could tell that they found the idea of battling a scantly dressed heroine a turn on. The growing bulges in their pants were proof of that. Their original victim was gone. Now, I was the intended victim. Again, I felt the tug of fear at the back of my mind. The last thing I wanted was to feel the Sartak.
But fear was quickly replaced by confidence. I was far stronger than any of these bangers. I was probably stronger than all of them put together. I had already defeated half of their number. And I still had my special power. If things got too hairy, I could always just fly out of reach.
But I was not thinking about escape, now. Someone needed to teach these boys a lesson and I was the one who would do it. With a burst of pure speed, I left the ground and flew toward the nearest of the bangers. My move so surprised him that he didn’t have a chance to react. I drove my shoulder into his chest and continued forward, carrying him along with me. We slammed into the side of the building that ran parallel to the alley, the force of our impact against the bricks so violent that we left an imprint in the wall. The banger in my arms was completely wiped out, his eyes rolling back into their sockets and his head swiveling loosely on his shoulders.
Unfortunately, I did not come out of it unscathed, either. My plan had been to pick the banger up and propel him forward into the wall, but to release him and continue my own flight upward before doing a back flip and landing on my feet, on the opposite side of the alley. It was a move that I had completed in the Octagon many times during my training, but there had been more room, there. In the cramped space of the alley I had misjudged the distance and ended up slamming into wall, head first.
I stumbled backward, momentarily staggered, still on my feet but wobbly. I might have fallen, but I was caught up in the arms of the big banger, who held me up. I fully expected him to try and run a knife into my side or my back, but was confident that he wouldn’t be able to cut me. Instead, and to my surprise, he brought his hands around my arms and cupped my breasts. As he held me tight against his body, I could feel his swollen member beneath the denim of his pants, rubbing against my ass. I didn’t have to see it to know that it was huge.
“I’ve got you, now, super-bitch!”
His thumbs went to work on my breasts, drawing large circles around my hardening nipples and sending an unwanted surge of pleasure through my body. The ultra-thin material of my costume provided some protection, but not much. Although I was sure that he didn’t know it, he was doing exactly the right thing, using the Sartak to weaken me.
But this attack also served to revive me, as I knew that I could not allow him to continue to play with my nipples. I was stronger than he was but he was behind me and had the leverage. Although my arms were inside of his, I could not drop down between his hands because of the firm grip he had on me. My feet were only lightly touching the ground, most of my weight supported by his own strength. He was a big man—I felt as if I had been swallowed up by him.
A soft, involuntary moan escaped my lips and he laughed. But it was no time to panic. I was still confident that I could break this hold and quickly end the fight. My arms were already at my sides, so I reached back and dug my fingers into his thighs.
“Yea, baby! You want me, don’t you bitch?”
His laughter irritated the hell out of me and I squeezed harder, driving my powerful fingers into his legs. With a scream of pain he released his hold and shoved me in the back with both hands, driving me forward into the wall and breaking my grip. I spun quickly, conscious that my sensitive nipples now protruded distinctively from under my costume. I was backed into a corner, the wall behind me, but I wasn’t worried. I would mop the floor up with these guys, especially the big black one.
“Oh yea! You liked that, didn’t you, super-bitch? There’s plenty more where that came from.” Mocking me, the leader slowly unzipped his pants and pulled out the largest cock I have ever seen. Now, admittedly, I am young. I have lived a sheltered life. I have not seen that many cocks. But this one was
huge. At least nine inches, and thick. And getting bigger. My eyes must have focused in on it because the leader laughed loudly and clutched his cock in his right hand, pointing it straight at me. “Yea, baby!
Before this night is over you’ll be sucking on this bad boy!”
I had other things in mind. Like ripping his dick off and shoving it into his mouth. I sprang forward and shot my right leg out in a perfect reverse spin kick. My aim was a bit off, though, and he was quick. He stepped under the kick and brought his right hand up and clamped it around my throat. He lifted me up by the neck, over his head, his left hand on my hip to help support my weight. He held me there for a couple of long seconds, as if to prove his strength, then slammed me down onto the pavement.
I landed with a thud, my back against the cement, the air leaving my lungs and my body momentarily going limp. He maintained his grip on my throat, choking off my air supply. He put his full weight on me, again swallowing me up in his great size. His face was inches from mine. I could feel his hot, swollen member rubbing against the inside of my bare thigh.
“My name is Bullets,” he snarled. “I lead the Reavors and I’m going to fuck you. Then my men are going to fuck you. What do you think about that, super-bitch?”
I wanted to make him eat his words but my first priority was to get some air. The choke slam he had laid on me had driven all the oxygen from my lungs. His chokehold prevented me from getting any more. Already, my lungs were burning. I needed air. Fast.
“What’s the matter, bitch? Can’t breathe? Yea, you won’t be able to breathe when my cock is in your mouth, either!”
He was big and muscular. I guessed his weight at something like two-eighty. But I can bench press two thousand. My arms were under him. With a shove I threw him off of me, high into the air, rolled to my right, into the center of the alley, and was on my feet before he hit the ground.
He landed hard, more surprised than hurt. “Fucking bitch! Get her!” he yelled to the two gang bangers that were still on their feet. The first rushed in with his knife and slashed at my midsection with a surprisingly quick move. The blade ran across my flat abdominal muscles, leaving a welt but not breaking the skin. I answered the disbelieving look on his face by smashing it with a straight left. Before he could fall, I followed up with a kick to his chest that sent him flying to the far end of the alley.
The other banger got behind me and brought both fists down on my head with all of his might. I have to admit that it hurt me a little and I staggered forward. Worse, my feet became entangled in some of the cardboard boxes and garbage that littered the alley. I stumbled and fell. Before I could recover, the banger was on me, pinning me face first to the pavement, his hands entwined in my hair, slamming my head time and again into the cement.
This was getting irritating. These last few bangers were taking much to long to dispatch. Even worse, the first two bangers I had taken out at the entrance to the alley were now back on their feet and seemingly anxious to rejoin the battle. My job was done, I decided. The young woman had been saved and was surely long gone, by now. Maybe it was time I made my exit, as well.
I stiffened my neck muscles and the banger on my back found it impossible to dribble my head further. With effort, I lifted us both up, turned my back to the wall, and slammed against it. His grip immediately loosened and I shook him off. I turned toward him and ran my fist into his gut. He groaned loudly and dropped like a sack of grain.
I turned back toward the alley entrance to check on the last two. After seeing their buddy go down, and seeing the other five bodies strewn about the alley, they no longer seemed so anxious to fight. I struck a pose, feet spread, hands on my hips, a daring look on my face. None of which was so smart, since their leader was still behind me.
I don’t know what it was—maybe I had taken a few too many punches or maybe I was overconfident or maybe I was just inexperienced, but I had totally forgotten about Bullets. He had hit the ground hard after I threw him, for sure, but not nearly so hard as to take him out of the fight. He still had his dick out, he still wanted to use it on me, and now I had given him his chance.
He came from behind, this time with an aluminum baseball bat in his hands. I do not know where he got it, though maybe he’d had it all the time. Certainly he was a big enough man that he might have been able to carry the bat under his jacket, unnoticed. He slammed it across the back of my head with all of his strength, probably intending to kill me. The force of the blow sent me forward and I landed
in a heap, hard on the pavement. I lay there for a moment, on my stomach, stunned, not sure of what had happened.
Bullets did not react immediately. Maybe he was surprised that my head hadn’t exploded from the impact. Maybe he had never seen an aluminum bat break in half before. Whatever the reason, it
didn’t take him long to put it behind him. He came down hard on my back, grabbing me by the scruff of my neck with his huge left hand and pushing the left side of my face into the cement. With his right hand he grabbed my hips and pulled my ass slightly off the ground. Using the same hand he pulled at my costume, trying to rip the black material away from my crotch.
“What the…?” Angered that he couldn’t rip my costume, Bullets settled for pulling and stretching it until it was out of the way. I was exposed to him now, but still too groggy to put up much of a fight. I felt the tip of his huge cock brush against my clitoris, sending a wave of unwanted pleasure through me. For the first time, I knew that I was in danger.
He poked at me with his massive member, trying to gain entry to my box. The head of it penetrated about an inch into me, but no more.
“Let me in, damn you!”
I clenched, determined not to permit him entry. Never the less, the motion of his efforts forced his hot head to brush again against my swelling clitoris. I let out a moan as the Sartak began to envelope me. I had some time before the system shock of this sexual assault overcame me, I knew, but not much. If I did not act soon, I would be finished.
The two remaining bangers joined their leader in holding me down, each grabbing one of my arms and extending it outwards from my body. They knew I was recovering and that I was strong. They put the full weight of their bodies across my arms to immobilize me.
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep Bullets from penetrating me further. Already, my pussy was beginning to lubricate with my juices. But then he did something I didn’t expect.
Withdrawing the head of his swollen cock from my pussy, he jammed it instead into my anus.
“Aaaagh!” I screamed. I tried to close myself off to him but it was too late. With his first thrust he had penetrated two inches into me. A second thrust gained him another inch. I had never been penetrated in this way before. The sensations were almost more than I could bear.
“Yea, baby! I’ve got you, now. I told you I was going to fuck you. Now, I’m doing it!”
He was four inches into me now and my resistance was rapidly failing. Had his cock been smaller he might have had me totally. As it was, each new thrust from this massive attacker weakened me further.
I could feel the Sartak overcoming me. My legs were the first to go. No more feeling, no more resistance. Then my arms began to go numb. Not the kind of numbness that occurs when you lose
circulation, but something different. It’s not so much that you lose feeling in your arms and legs, but that you just don’t notice it anymore. You cannot feel anything other than the sensual attack. It was not that my arms and legs could not feel but that they were now separate from me. All I could feel was the huge cock penetrating my aching ass.
Bullets was five inches into me now. I could hear his breathing get heavy as he continued at his work. I was still looking for a way to escape.
“Just have to… must… break free…”
But it was becoming more hopeless by the second. I moaned loudly as Bullets shifted his grip from my neck to my hair and pulled me up off the pavement, onto my knees. I was leaning forward, my weight supported by his grip on my hair. This gave him better access to me and he drove his cock deeper into me. The bangers loosened their holds on my arms, sensing now that I was finished. My arms hung
limp in front of me, dangling towards the cement. But I wasn’t finished. I was working myself up for one last effort, gathering my strength for one last attempt at escape.
My plan was simple. Gather my strength and then, with one burst of energy, lash out at the two bangers in front of me, then push off with my feet to remove Bullets’ cock from my ass. His grip on my hair was tight—I might lose some hair but I was confident that I would be able to break free.
But Bullets was at least six inches into me, now. I felt as if I was being ripped apart from the inside. If I was going to escape then I had to act quickly. I wanted to time my attempt so that it occurred just as Bullets was pulling back from me, when there was only three or four inches of him left inside me.
But just as I was almost ready, the banger to my right decided he would get some, too. He pulled back the material of my tapered costume, lifting it up and over my breasts, exposing my already swollen nipples.
He leaned in and began sucking on my right nipple with his mouth while using the thumb and forefinger of his hand to pinch my left one. The sensations that flooded my body were too much. Again I moaned, whatever strength I had collected quickly fading, replaced by an orgasm that was building to its climax.
“Oh god…” I whimpered. “I cannot take… much more…”
The banger on my left reached under me with his left hand and inserted a finger into my now well lubricated pussy. He pushed it in and out, each time rubbing his finger across my fully swollen clitoris. Bullets was fully inside of me, impaling me over and over again with his ten inch cock. I was entwined in the Sartak, feeling nothing but my rock hard nipples, my aching pussy and swollen clitoris, and my enflamed anus. I could not hold off the orgasm any longer. It racked my body violently, making me jerk and twist under Bullets’ unrelenting grip. Juices gushed from my pussy, carrying any remaining strength out of my helpless body with them. My movements brought Bullets to his climax, as well, and he pumped a seemingly endless amount of semen into me.
As the orgasm finally subsided, my body went completely limp, now nothing more than a plaything for my three attackers. But they were not done with me. As he extracted his still swollen member from my ass, Bullets promised more.
“I told you that every one of my men was going to have some of you, and that’s what I meant. No fucking super-bitch is going to mess with us!” He released his grip on my hair and let me drop face first onto the pavement. I lay there, limp and helpless before him. I could hear the men gathering around me and I knew that the other members of the gang were back on their feet.
I knew this was it. I had been in the city for less than a week and I was already finished. I was defeated and raped and this was it for Ms. Marvelous.
But then a miracle happened. From out of the night came the sound of sirens, rapidly approaching. With a curse, Bullets ordered his men to retreat. He followed them into the darkness, but not before hurling a final threat in my direction.
“You’re mine, super-bitch. If you ever show your face again in the Dark Water, I’ll make you my
whore!”
I lay there, on the cement floor of the alley, weak and shaken. As the police cruisers arrived at
the alley entrance, their flashing strobes painting me in a red light, I forced my aching body onto its knees. I adjusted my costume so that my ass and breasts were covered. I didn’t want the officers to know what had happened.
One of the police, a captain by the looks of his insignia, approached me, reached down and helped me to my feet. I looked into his face and mustered a smile.
“How did you know to come?” I asked weakly.
The captain shrugged and pointed back toward his cruiser. “She told us.”
My eyes followed the direction of his finger. There, standing at the entrance of the alley, a smile of gratitude on her face, was the young woman I had saved. At that moment, I knew that it had all been worth it. The Reavors had not won. Ms. Marvelous had won.
So, there you have it, Agent 009. The tale of my first great adventure. And there are many more to be told. Panther has asked that I continue to correspond with you, continue to relate my experiences with you. Who knows, maybe someday we will meet, face to face. Maybe you will even choose to join me, on the outside, in the fight against evil. Until then, continue your training, do what Panther says, and look forward to my next letter.