Not the one - 2
By Dru



Mark was a genius, in his own opinion. What a mind he had for deviousness! As
soon as his ex-lover left for work, the lowlife was on the phone to his new
girlfriend. Ten minutes later they were going for it on Susan's bed. Mark had
never made love Susan the way he was making love to this chick, and he was
reminding himself of that fact when a stranger entered the room. He stopped
all motion, and stared in awe at the impossible woman who stood in the
doorway.

Susan was mad. She expected to come back and share with Mark the glorious new
body she possessed. But she held her anger well.

"Who are you?" he asked, still joined to other woman,

"Don't you recognise me?"

"What the hell are you doing in here!" the naked lady demanded furiously.

"I was about to ask you that," Susan told her.

"Susan?" Mark asked, amazement clear in his voice. He had listened to that
voice for years...there was no doubting it.

"Who is she Mark? Some slut you picked up down at Trenton? I think you better
leave."

But Mark didn't want to go anywhere. He was already primed, and the sight of
Susan after her mental body sculpting was almost knocked him out. He withdrew
and dove at Susan, his weight bringing them both down on the floor. But as he
tried to wrestle with her, he found out that she was a bit stronger than he
was.

Lifting him up and dropping to the side, Susan got to her feet. "You always
were the romantic type. How often have you had girls here while I was I work?"

"Susan...I..."

"Shut up. It doesn't matter anymore. You see this?" She held up the ring so he
could see it. "This changed me. I was going to screw you silly, probably for a
week straight...I'm that horny right now."

His eyes lit up at that thought. Susan wandered over to the little slut on her
bed.

"You need to learn to keep your panties on." Slapping her, Susan made her
victims lip bleed. "Get out."

"You bitch!" The tramp had spirit, and wasn't the type to take a hit and leave
it there. She punched Susan in the face, knocking the unprepared aggressor on
her ass. "This isn't the first time I've fucked him!" she declared, rubbing
salt into Susan's humiliation. "We fucked plenty of times...right here on your
bed you cobwebbed cunt!"

Susan got up, dazed from the blow, only to have the street smart slut hammer
another fist into her face. That was it...now she was furious. The pain
throbbing in her head stopped as she healed herself with the ring. The
bleeding stopped, and the wound knitted itself back together. The savvy
attacker moved away, suddenly filled with fear as the damage she done faded
from her victims features.

"Did that freak you out a little?" Susan asked, staring sharply into the
little bitches' eyes. "Check this out then." A channel opened at her command,
and power flooded into Susan's body. Her muscles expanded and solidified,
growing larger right in front of her treacherous boyfriend and his violent
bitch. "Mmmmm. You have no idea how good this feels!" Susan explored her body
with hands stronger than construction cranes, arching her back as she stopped
the influx of energy and wallowed in the strength of nearly a thousand men.

"Now Susan...don't do anything stupid now..."

"She started it, Mark," Susan told him, still absorbed in the magnificence her
powerful frame. That dress she had taken from Greta's had held up well.

The girl ran for the door, but was halted abruptly by a firm and easily strong
enough hand. The shoulder in Susan's hand was crushed like an eggshell, and
the girl started screaming in pain. Her screams felt good on Susan's ears, so
she squeezed a little more and rubbed her fingers around. Moving her hand in a
little she pressed a thumb onto her collar bone and snapped it like a
matchstick.

"Does that hurt? You feel just like one of those silicon stress-thingies." She
pressed a hand on her own forearm, using the same amount of pressure that
demolished slut-face's shoulder. It was a pleasant little massage. Squeezing
as hard as she could, Susan found it difficult to inflict pain on herself.
Repeating this on her victims forearm had different effects. Yanking on the
damaged limb, Susan was a little revolted as the arm came free from the ruined
shoulder joint, the flesh tearing like cheap rubber foam. Her disgust turned
to fascination as it dawned on her what she had done. "How about your legs?"

Mark ran in, trying to tackle his old girlfriend as he had done only moments
before. But this time his weight was not nearly enough. The impact left him
dazed and staggering, while Susan smiled at him.

"That felt nice, Mark." She dropped the critically injured slut and stepped
over to Mark. Very carefully pushing him onto the bed, she genltly took hold
of a leg. "But I want you to wait you turn, okay?" She gave him a Chinese burn
that crushed the bones and twisted his foot to a gruesome angle.

The one-armed chick had made a run for it. Susan ran after her, catching her
quickly and throwing her over her shoulder. Carrying her back into the
bedroom, she dropped her roughly to the floor.

"Look at all this blood your putting on my floor!" Susan used her as a rag,
moving around with her foot to mop up a bit of the mess. Then she hoisted the
pathetic thing up and looked it in the eye. "You should have gone when I told
you to." Those were the last words the girl heard. She died at last when Susan
broke her neck with her fingers on the last syllable.

Mark had managed to reach into the bedside table and grab the gun he had put
there months before. Instinctively, Susan's hand shot out and blocked the
bullet. She was as surprised as Mark when a hole wasn't torn through her palm.
Instead the bullet bounced aside to embed itself in the wall. While Susan
examined her tingling hand, Mark shot again. This time the bullet hit her
unprepared, only to bounce away off her still flawless face.

"Do that again!" she begged enthusiastically.

He didn't need much egging on. Mark proceeded to blast a whole clip into
Susan's body. Every bullet that impacted her body made her feel more powerful.
They felt like blind moths, and if he hadn't have got a few hits on her dress
Susan would still have thought he was shooting blanks.

"Hey! Look what you did to my dress!" she declared, poking a finger into a
hole.

He made a desperate, though painfully slow, dash for door, and Susan made no
attempt to stop him. She followed him though, talking pleasantly.

"I don't know where you're limping off to, sweetie, but it doesn't matter. I
can take you out anytime I want. Right now I gotta get some new clothes. If
you want to call your friends the phone's over there. I'll be back in minute."
She pushed him down and walked out the door. Before she passed though it she
was back to normal size...Though Susan was careful to keep every ounce of
strength.

Outside on the street, Susan started walking toward Greta's when an idea
occurred to her. There were heaps of cars parked here, and she only needed one
of them. Spotting someone getting into their car, Susan got over there and
stopped them from closing their door. Her other hand took hold of the driver
and reefed him out to dangle from her arm.

"Give me your keys."

He quietly handed over his keys, his eyes locked on her perfect breasts. Susan
reluctantly reduced her strength to normal, and drove on down to Greta's.
Unable to find a parking spot she just stopped right on the street and walked
in.

"That's her!" the sale assistant declared the instant she entered. Two
policemen were there, and they were coming her way. Susan multiplied her
strength, stopping them in tracks with sheer spectacle as her muscles bulged
out and tore her ruined dress away. Without breaking stride she punched them
both in the gut, breaking their spines and depositing them on the shelves
across the room.

"It's me alright," she told the cowering salesman, smiling. "And that dress
was much too weak! I need something that stretches, something that can take a
few bullets."

He tripped over his own heels as she came nearer, her body reducing in size to
normal. Though she retained an over-healthy glow. She lifted him up and
dropped him on his feet.

"Get moving, dickhead, or I'll make a quadriplegic out of you."

He darted over to a rack and hunted for a tough elastic outfit. While he was
busy doing that, Susan was checking out the cops. One had died and the other
was unconscious. Wondering if it would work, Susan scanned his head as she had
done to the alien who made the mistake of giving her the ring. Boosting her
mental vigour, she slashed through his mind so powerfully over doing the job
that blood started dripping from his ears and nose. He was soon as dead as his
partner, after sharing with Susan all his operational knowledge of the police
force. He was only a junior member of the force, though, and didn't have much
information that was useful.

"Here you go, Miss," she heard the salesman interrupt her. Looking over at him
she saw that he had a skirt and top in his hands. He went into his automatic
sales-pitch mode. "I think this is the one you want. It's seven thousand, but
worth every dollar."

"Bill me," she told him, taking it and getting dressed. "How about some
shoes?"

He handed her a pair of shoes that matched the rest of her now clothes well,
then stepped well back.

"You're not going to call the police again, are you? I'd hate to have to come
back here and finish you off after you've been so helpful."

Checking herself out in the mirror, Susan was happy with the outfit. She left
the store and got back into her stolen car to drive home. Unfortunately she
was so happy about her new look that she forgot about the abundant strength in
her hands. The door came off in her hands, and the car was a ruin.

"Damn it!" she swore, throwing the door at a building. It broke up and pieces
flew in all direction. Then she slammed her fist down on the roof to cave the
car in like a wire-frame mock-up. Every window exploded. Putting a hand
underneath it she hoisted the whole vehicle up and flipped it from her path.
It did a complete sommersault and crashed two cars down with the rear end on
the footpath.

Everyone was staring at her with uncontrolled fear, those able to move making
a hasty retreat from the super-fit girl. With her astounding psychological
abilities Susan could actually feel their fear, and it filled with her
confidence knowing that there was nothing they could do to stop her. She
smiled at them, and struck a pose.

"What's the problem? Haven't you ever seen a superhuman before?" Pouring even
more strength into herself, Susan tested the elasticity of her clothes by
growing bigger than she had before. And stronger. Her hands roamed her body as
she stepped out into the traffic and allowed a car to collide with her. She
felt the metal hug her body, but her muscular density was so great no that
steel was only almost as hard. Peeling the car off Susan gave the wreckage a
shove with her foot that sent it soaring into the nearby Commonwealth bank.
She laughed. "Better call the fucking army, people! Super-Susan's in town!!"
Flexing her muscles and feeling the power pulsing in her body, Susan got in
the car behind the one that hit her and ordered the driver to take her home.
He was reluctant, but she slowly and calmly pushed her hand through into his
dashboard, the plastic snapping and popping as the steel beneath gave way to
her superior strength.

"Get moving or I'll do this to your forehead." Moving her hand to the side,
she gouged out a chunk of dash and shoved it through the closed window. He got
moving alright, trying to run. But a hand grasped his belt and stopped him.

"Just drive me where I want to go, fool," she suggested, dragging him back in
without messing about. Noting the car was an automatic, Susan tapped the
drivers leg. The bone shattered, turning him pale white as pain flushed up to
his brain.

He drove her home, having no other choice.

"That was so kind of you," Susan told him sweetly. "Bye now!" Susan stood
straight up, pushing her head and shoulders through the Ford's roof as easily
poking her finger through a Milo seal. Pushing the jagged edges of the roof
away and kicking the door with explosive results, Susan made her way across
the lawn while her unwilling chauffeur made a exit from the scene in his
demolished car.

Susan noted that Mark had called his friends as she had suggested. Two
familiar cars were parked in the driveway.

"Well done, Mark," she mused, gabbing and squeezing a breast. "I feel like a
good fuck right now." She only hoped that they would last long enough to give
her some pleasure.