Julie Chapter 1
By AK  (julievelor@usa.net)
A young girl discovers her Velorian birthright.

Prologue

     Emerging from the far side of the moon, the object streaked towards
the Earth, crossing the gap in less than eight hours. The flight went
completely unnoticed by the numerous astronomical observatories around the
world. Nor was it detected by any of the many military radar stations
around the globe, even though they were at the height of the Cold War
alertness. Nor was it detected by any of the scientific stations searching
for exactly this type of object. Entering the upper reaches of the
atmosphere high over the North Pacific, it headed east, rapidly reducing
speed and altitude as it crossed the Oregon coastline. Less than an hour
later it was streaking through the clear cold Colorado night sky, leaving
behind an ionized trail that glowed faintly red for about a minute before
fading out of sight.
     Even though it passed within a hundred miles of the North American
Aerospace Defense Command headquarters near Colorado Springs, the NORAD
radar screens buried deep inside Cheyenne Mountain showed no trace of its
passing. No fighter planes were scrambled to intercept the object. Even if
they had been, none of them would have been fast enough to keep up.
     Unlike a meteor the object slowed down as it dropped below the tops of
the snow-covered mountain peaks, heading out over the prairie before
reversing direction. It returned to the mountains and headed up a remote
glacier-cut canyon. It circled twice before plunging through the
foot-thick ice into the lake. Surprisingly, there was no burst of steam,
as could normally be expected from the sudden immersion of a hot object in
the water. Instead, the hole in the ice disappeared almost immediately as
the exposed water quickly froze again.
     About an hour later the ice began to crack near the shore. Soon there
was a hole in the ice about six feet around. From the watery hole a naked
black-haired woman emerged from the water, carrying a limp and very
pregnant golden-haired woman, also naked, in her arms. She looked around
herself once, then disappeared into the knee-deep snow amongst the pine
trees, seemingly carrying the other woman in her arms without any signs of

effort.
     After another hour the black-haired woman reappeared from under the
trees. She slipped back into the freezing water, only to reemerge a few
minutes later carrying a silvery metal box about the size and shape of a
large suitcase. Carrying the box she disappeared into the trees.
     The next night the black-haired woman returned to the lake, bringing
the box with her and taking it into the water. She reemerged empty-handed
a few minutes later before again disappearing into the trees.
     Shortly before dawn, the black-haired woman, dressed only in a simple
robe, emerged from the valley clutching a small cloth-covered bundle to
her bosom. Her bare legs and feet seemed to be hardly affected by the
knee-deep snow. She started walking down out of the mountains towards the
lights, and the people, below.
     There was no further sign of the golden-haired woman.
     

Chapter 1

     Standing on the roof atop the three-story building north of downtown
Denver, I surveyed the scene in the dark dead-end alley below me. The
street light on this side of the street was broken. There was some light
spilling in from an unbroken street light on the other side of the street.
A half moon added a little more light. But even if it had been pitch black
I would easily have known that I was going to have some work ahead of me
before going home for the night. But probably not too much work, there was
only one man to take care of, and he only had a knife.
     A large man with longish light brown hair, wearing faded blue jeans, a
black tee shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a stained leather jacket,
had his left hand on one arm of a slim young brown-haired woman who was
sobbing. His right hand held a knife at her throat as she slowly
unbuttoned her yellow blouse with her free hand. The jacket from her brown
business suit was already at her feet, along with her purse and her
briefcase. The man released her arm and reached out to 'help' her remove
her blouse, tearing half of it off and exposing the black lace bra
covering her small pert breasts.
     That's it, I had seen enough! I jumped down the thirty feet from my
perch, landing lightly and silently at the mouth of the alley, my knees
barely bending in order to cushion the impact of my landing. "That's
enough! Let her go!" I told the man.
     Surprised, he whirled around, but without taking his knife from her
throat. He looked around, but he didn't see any cops, he only saw me. He
gave me the once-over, from the top of my golden hair, to my face and my
deep blue eyes, to the tight dark blue blouse which matches my eyes but
does nothing to disguise what they contain within, to my narrow waist
which the blouse doesn't quite completely cover, to my blue denim
cut-offs, down my long tanned legs, and all the way down to my bare feet.
Then his eyes reversed the process. I could tell that he liked what he
saw, men always do. "You offering to take her place?" he asked with an
evil leer.
     I stepped forward, flexing my chest just a little bit, my breasts
straining my tight blouse almost to its limits. "If that's what you want.
Let her go and I can give you more than you can imagine, so much more," I
told him as I gave him my most seductive smile, the one I practice in the
mirror every morning. I didn't tell him 'more' of what, he wouldn't be
able to handle it anyway.
     When I got closer he let go of the other woman. She collapsed to the
ground at our feet, still sobbing. I let him take my arm and put his knife
to my throat, I knew that I didn't have to fear anything from a mere steel
knife, no matter how big it might have been. This wasn't the first time
somebody had tried to threaten me with a knife. And it probably wouldn't
be the last time.
     I ignored his knife. I didn't even look up at him. Instead I looked
down at the woman at my feet. "Get out of here now! Just get up and walk
out." She was too frightened to do anything, she just sat there on the
ground, sobbing and looking up at me through her tear-filled eyes.
     He stuck his booted foot into her side and kicked her deeper into the
alley, into a corner. "She stays here!" He spat in her direction before
turning around to face me again. "You think I'm gonna let her go so she
can call the cops?"
     Turning, I finally raised my face to look him in the eyes. My eyes
didn't have to go up too far, he was only about a couple of inches taller
than I was. If I had been wearing a pair of my good shoes, with the spike
heels, I would have been a couple of inches taller than he was. I could
smell the beer and the cigarettes on his breath. "You shouldn't have done
that. You should have let her go when you had the chance."
     He waved the knife blade in front of my eyes and laughed in my face,
"Oh, I'm so scared. What're you gonna do about it, bitch?"
     I HATE being called that. Especially by street scum like him. "Don't
call me a bitch!" My right hand quickly flashed out, closing about the
blade of his knife, grabbing it about four inches from my face and holding
it there. His eyes widened as he tried to retrieve the knife from my grasp
and failed. He took his left hand off of my arm and put it over his right
hand and used both arms to pull. The knife still didn't move an inch. Not
until I moved it. I slowly lowered our hands to the level of my waist.
     After about a minute I let him pull the knife free. At least I let him
pull the hilt free. "Oh, did you break something?" I asked, smiling
sweetly and opening my hand to show him the blade. Or at least the twisted
splinters of steel that were all that remained of what only a minute
before used to be a sharp tempered steel blade. "It must have been a cheap
knife, to break that easily."
     "Wh-wh-what?" he managed to stammer out, as I turned my hand over to
let the steel splinters fall to the ground between our feet.
     "That was eloquent. Now can you say 'Good night'?" My right hand
lifted him up by his chin, holding him a foot above the ground. I let him
have a brief moment to see the strength of my right arm before I let him
see even more, shaking him a couple of times and then tossing him across
the alley. I was careful not to throw him too hard; I didn't want to kill
him. He hit the dark red brick wall about fourteen or fifteen feet above
the ground and slid down the wall to land on top of a group of garbage
cans. The cans toppled over, spilling the man in a heap on the ground
along with the garbage. Rats scurried away from the disturbance. The
biggest rat of them all didn't move any more, staying right where he had
fallen.
     I was immediately beside the woman. Kneeling down next to her I asked,
"Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?"
     She seemed to be on the verge of going into shock. Not from what the
man had done to her, or had been about to do to her. Rather, from what I
had just done to the man. She looked up at me. She looked at the heap
across the alley. She looked back up at me with her eyes wide open.
"How...? Who...? Are you...?"
     I was beginning to get used to that kind of reaction. "Don't worry
about me, I'm fine. Are YOU okay?"
     She started to stand. I took her elbow and helped her up to her feet.
She was a small woman, barely five feet tall. She tried to cover herself
with the remains of her torn blouse. She finally gave up the futile
attempt, removed the remaining tatters and put on her jacket, buttoning it
all the way up to the collar.
     "Can you make it home? Should I call you a cab?" I asked, picking up
her purse, dusting it off, and handing it to her.
     "No, I think I'm okay, just a little shaken. My car's only a block
from here. I never expected anything like this to happen to me." No one
ever does, lady, except for me. That's why I have to do what I do.
     I picked up her briefcase and walked her out to her red compact car.
She fished the keys out of her purse. Handing her the briefcase I saw her
off, telling her not to report anything to the police unless she wanted to
answer some tough questions. Some questions for which she wouldn't have
any good answers. At least not any answers that would be believed.
     I retraced my steps back to the alley to check on the man. He had
managed to regain consciousness and was rising slowly to his feet, trying
to brush away the garbage from his clothes. Too bad he didn't realize that
the worst garbage was inside his clothes, not on the outside. When he saw
me at the mouth of the alley he pulled a revolver from somewhere inside
his leather jacket and shakily pointed it at me.
     DAMN! I kept forgetting to check for OTHER weapons once I saw the
FIRST one. Oh well, nothing I could do about it this time, except to be
glad that he hadn't used it earlier, when someone might have gotten hurt.
That, and to make sure that he didn't have a THIRD one handy. Too bad, he
didn't. This wasn't going to be as much fun as it could have been. I just
kept walking towards him.
     He stood and pointed the revolver at my chest. "Hold it right there,
BITCH!" The last word was mostly a snarl.
     "I told you not to call me that!" I placed my hands on my hips and
kept walking towards him, putting just enough bounce into my walk to make
my large breasts bounce with every step, stretching my blouse even
further. It was exactly for this effect that I wasn't wearing a bra. But
then, I haven't needed to wear a bra for years, only wearing one when it
was expected of me.
     He squeezed the trigger. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as
the first bullet came out of the smoke and flame at the end of the gun
barrel. I stopped and held my position. I could see the bullet clearly as
it came towards me. It tore a ragged hole in my blouse as it struck my
left breast about two inches outside and below the nipple, spreading a
warm tingling feeling over the front of my body. The bullet flattened as
it decelerated, dimpling my soft flesh until it reached the underlying
muscles. As the steel-jacketed lead slug ran out of energy it stopped,
before my firm breast then popped it back out. It hit against the brick
wall on my left and clattered to the ground.
     Keeping my hands on my hips I moved around slightly, guiding the other
bullets around my firming nipples, making sure that each bullet ripped
away another part of my blouse. I had plenty more at home. Blouses, that
is, not bullets. I also made sure that all of the rebounds went to the
sides, to fall harmlessly along the brick walls, rather than out into the
street behind me, or worse, back at my assailant. I didn't want a stray
ricochet to end my fun too soon. No, I didn't want a bullet to end this. I
had something else in my mind, something much more appropriate for someone
like this. Though he probably would not agree with me, if he knew what I
had planned for him.
     My large breasts bounced with each ringing impact. The sharp tingling
sensations felt SO good! Again I was glad that men almost invariably aimed
at the biggest targets with which I presented them. Unfortunately the
pleasant feeling was all too short-lived; the revolver held only six
bullets.
     When the hammer clicked on an empty chamber I walked up to him and
slipped the little finger of my right hand into the hot gun barrel. I
easily twisted the gun out of his grasp. After all, he was only holding it
with his two hands, his male grip no match for a single female finger. I
tossed it up in the air and caught it by the grip. I used the still
smoking barrel to clear away the few remaining shreds of cloth covering my
breasts. "Mmm, that felt good. Thank you." I smiled at him. "Do you have
another?" I asked as I pressed the still hot barrel against my right
breast. The hot metal felt so good against my soft flesh. I pushed harder,
trying to get more contact.
     It was an unequal contest from the start between the hardened Smith
and Wesson gunmetal and my soft Velorian breast. The barrel dimpled its
way about halfway into my breast before it squealed and started to bend. I
kept on pushing until the handle was touching my breast, the barrel now
completely bent around. I then gave the gun back to him. It fell unnoticed
from his limp fingers to the ground, as his eyes never left my breasts.
     I placed my hand back on my hip. I thrust out my chest even further to
give him a better view of my now uncovered mounds, just barely smudged
from the gunpowder and lead. "So, do you like my breasts?" I smiled and
asked as I took a step forward, shaking my chest a bit to make my breasts
bounce around some more. He took a faltering step backwards. Apparently
his obvious fascination with the appearance of my breasts was not enough
to overcome his fear of what he had seen them do.
     Still smiling I walked towards him as he continued to back away.
Eventually his back hit the back wall of the alley. Keeping my hands on my
hips I stopped in front of him and leaned forward challengingly, my large
nipples jiggling just inches from his chest. Despite his fear his hands
came up, as he grabbed my breasts with his large strong hands and began to
squeeze with all of his puny strength.
     My face was only inches away from his. I could feel his breath on my
face, still stinking of beer and cigarettes. And of his fear. And of the
garbage that was still on his clothes. Despite the stink I slowly licked
my lips. His maddeningly light caresses felt as light as feathers, making
my body tingle slightly, just barely enough to make me want more, a 'more'
that I knew he couldn't give me. His large male body was much too weak,
much too soft; it could never hope to please my female body.
     "So you do like my breasts after all. Would you like to feel more of
them? To feel them against your big manly chest?" As I leaned forward a
little more, his body shuddered with an orgasm. Men! They have so little
control over their own bodies.
     Still keeping my hands on my hips I leaned further forward. I trapped
his hands against his chest as he held my breasts. He literally had his
back to the wall, trapped between a hard brick wall and something quite a
bit harder. Two somethings, actually. As I increased the pressure my
breasts initially flattened slightly as his hands and chest provided some
resistance at first. He tried to push me back, straining his arms as he
used all of his strength. Ignoring his puny male efforts I pressed harder.
I could feel my hard nipples digging into his palms. He struggled to
breathe, his hard muscular masculine chest unable to expand against my
soft feminine breasts.
     "Please, let me go," he managed to gasp out.
     "Sure, I'll let you go. Just like you let her go when I told you to,"

I replied, still smiling at him.
     As I took a deep breath to emphasize that I could still breathe, I
thrust my chest out even further. I heard and felt the small bones in his
hand snap as they were caught between my soft breasts and his muscular
chest.
     I eased up on him and backed off a bit. He managed slide his damaged
hands out and away from my breasts. He clutched his hands to his stomach,
the pain obvious on his face. "Oh, what's the matter? Didn't you like
holding my breasts? I thought that you liked my breasts. Or perhaps am I
too much woman for you to handle?" I asked, still smiling sweetly at him.
     "Please, let me go," he gasped out again. "I'll never do anything like
this again." His face was contorted with the pain in his hands.
     "Oh yes, I know that you won't." my smile widened as I let up the
pressure just a bit, but not enough to let him get away. He gulped in some
air. "Not ever again!" Still smiling, I leaned forward again, putting the
squeeze on him again.
     He tried to push me away, but his broken hands on my waist had no
effect, I didn't budge an inch. Instead I leaned further forward, pressing
my breasts even harder against his broad muscular chest. He kicked out at
me, his knee coming up between my long bare legs to impact against my
crotch. Hmm, this might be interesting.
     I tightened my thighs slightly, trapping his thigh against my sex. I
rubbed myself gently against his muscular thigh. Hmm, this was almost
interesting. As I rubbed myself harder, his thigh bone snapped. Nah, it
wasn't interesting enough. I relaxed my thighs releasing his leg; my
breasts still keeping his body pinned against the wall, helping to keep
his weight off of his damaged leg.
     "Oh, did that hurt?" I asked him. "Let me see if I can make it
better." I bent my head forward and gave him a quick and light kiss. A
light kiss for me, that this. I felt some of his teeth break and tasted
the blood from his cut lips before I pulled back.
     Still continuing to smile at him, I leaned further forward. As my
nipples began to dig into his hard masculine chest, his body shuddered
with another orgasm. I continued on pushing. Another unequal contest
ensued, this time between my large soft breasts and his broad muscular
chest. It really was no contest at all. I pushed a little further and I
started to hear and feel his ribs first bend and then break as I saw his
eyes open wide in pain. He tried to scream, but there was no air left in
his lungs, a soft gurgle was all that came out. One final push and his
spine and shoulder blades snapped. A little shrug of my shoulders and my
soft bouncing breasts finished off what was left of his muscular male
chest.
     
     His head was reeling. First this tall leggy blonde chick interrupts
his fun. Now was she really offering him her gorgeously sexy body? With
those big beautiful boobs? But hadn't he seen his bullets bouncing off
those big mounds? And what had she done to his gun? How had she done
that?
     Despite his fear his hands came up to feel those breasts. To feel, to
caress, to fondle those large full breasts. So big and so round! Larger
and fuller than any he had ever felt before. And so FIRM! Much firmer than
any he had ever felt before. What a woman! As he fondled her he thought
that he smelled the scent of wildflowers and honey. He felt himself giving
in to her overpowering femininity as he shot his wad into his shorts. Was
this stuff her idea of foreplay? Was she getting off on this weird kinky
foreplay? But what kind of chick got off on getting shot at? Or on
bouncing bullets off of her big boobs? What were those boobs made of?
     Then she leaned into him, trapping his hands against those firm
breasts. Shit, that hurts! How could a girl's boobs be hurting his hands
like that? As she leaned further, he felt the agonizing pain shooting up
both his arms. He immediately knew that both of his hands had been broken.
By the bitch's boobs! Just what were those boobs made of anyway?
     She then let up the pressure slightly. His hands fell uselessly to his
stomach as she taunted him. "Oh, what's the matter? I thought you liked my
breasts. Am I too much woman for you to handle?" Then she leaned forward
again, pressing those breasts against his chest. He could feel the air
being forced painfully out of his lungs as those large mounds began to
compress his chest. He tried to push her away, but his arms and mangled
hands seemed to have no effect on the bitch. He pushed with all of his
strength. The pressure didn't ease up one little bit. He begged her to let
him go. He thought briefly that she was going to let him go, as she smiled
at him and eased up the pressure a little. He barely managed to get some
air into his tortured lungs. But then, she resumed the pressure, driving
the air out of his lungs again.
     He kicked up at her, kneeing her in the crotch hard enough to flatten
anybody, male or female. Apparently even that delicate part of her body
was just as tough as her tits were. Instead of pain, the kick only brought
an amused smile to her face as she tightened her thighs around his thigh
and began to rub herself against his leg. He tried to free his leg, but
her legs were like a steel vise holding his leg. To her this might be some
kinky type of foreplay, but damn, to him that hurts!
     The pain was incredible as she tightened her legs on his. The pain
only increased until he felt his thigh snap. He thought that he could even
hear the bone snap. The whole time she had continued to press her breasts
painfully against his chest. Despite the pain, he shot another wad into
his already wet shorts. He tried to scream, but all he could manage was a
gurgle, there was no air left in his lungs. Then he felt his ribs
collapsing as she pressed her boobs harder against him. One by one, he
felt his ribs break.
     Those were the last things he would ever feel.
     
     I straightened up and watched his broken body slump at my feet, his
broken ribs tearing jagged holes in what remained of his chest, satisfied
that this particular rapist wouldn't be bothering any other woman, having
been completely vanquished by just my softest flesh. I removed what was
left of my blouse and used it to clean his blood and other gore from my
breasts. Tossing the bloody rag on top of his mangled body, I looked
around to make sure that I was still alone and then flexed my long legs
and leaped high up into the night sky.
     Flexing my calves to generate the flying power I flew home through the
night air, not quite exceeding the Mach. After all, I wasn't particularly

in a hurry and I had less than twenty miles to go so there was no sense in
shattering a bunch of windows below me with a sonic boom.
     As I flew homeward I thought about what I had just done. I had just
killed another person. A living, breathing person. His parents had
probably loved him. Maybe he had a family of his own that he loved, and
that loved him. Nobody had elected me judge, jury, and executioner. Even
though I was certain that he deserved it, I should not have let my anger
get the better of me. His frail Terran male body had stood absolutely no
chance whatsoever against my star-born feminine strength. But, as I
reflected further, what chance had that slim woman stood, unarmed, against
a big strong man like him, armed with both a knife and a gun?
     I slowed down as I approached our house. I reversed myself and landed
feet first on the tree-shaded second-floor balcony adjoining my room. I
activated the secret catch to slide the door open and walked on in, making
just slightly less noise than a cat would have made by just walking in on
its padded feet.
     The next day I used Mom's connections to get a copy of the police
report. Later I also got the final report on the case. By the time a
patrol car had arrived, responding to reports of gunfire in the alley, the
action had been long concluded. They had found nothing but mystery.
     One Caucasian male, six-two and 220 pounds, deceased. Money but no ID
in his wallet, still in his pocket. Half-empty pack of cigarettes, butane
lighter. One broken thigh. Two broken hands. Lips cut and some teeth
broken, as if he had been hit hard in the mouth. Very hard.
     Upper torso crushed. Completely crushed. Collarbone, several
vertebrae, shoulder blades, and most of the ribs snapped. Ribs snapped
back, as if crushed by a very hard object from the front. The coroner
thought that it might have been two objects, from the locations and angles
of the injuries. A copious quantity of his own semen in his shorts.
Alcohol in his blood, but still under the legal limit for driving.
     Tattered remains of two women's blouses, different sizes, the smaller
yellow one torn, the larger blue one with gunpowder burns around the holes
and soaked with the man's blood, no trace of the presumed wearer's blood.
One knife, the blade snapped and in splinters, no blood. One Smith and
Wesson revolver, all six chambers used, the barrel bent back completely.
Six bullets from the revolver scattered around the alley, all of them
flattened as if they had struck something very hard. No traces of blood on
the bullets. Ballistics was still trying to work out firing angles and
such, but they didn't have much evidence to work from. No traces of anyone
else's blood.
     When the dead man's face was shown on the evening newscasts soliciting
information about him, several women called the police to identify him as
their rapist. With such testimony piling up, the police didn't try very
hard to find his killer. It also made it a little easier for me to sleep
at night; his blood didn't stain my hands as much. Or my breasts, as the
case may be.
     The case was closed as 'unsolved' and filed away with the growing
number of other recent unsolved mysterious deaths and captures of drug
dealers, muggers, and rapists in the area. Most of them, as with this one,
I hadn't intended to kill. I preferred to leave live bodies for the
police, and the courts, to handle. But once again, I had lost control of
my anger. It was only a minor consolation that I had killed out of anger,
not out of other emotions. So unlike my first killing, when I had still
been in high school, which had been out of passion. 
     Back in those earlier days I might have taken the time to have a
little more 'fun' with a man like this. But 'fun' for me wasn't
necessarily pleasant for the men involved. It had been a long painful
process, literally for them and figuratively for me, before I had learned
to make it fun and pleasant for all of the parties involved.
     As I reviewed the final report I thought back to how my life had
completely changed. Before my 'manifestation' I would have been just as
helpless as that woman would have been. Now I could not only protect her
but also eliminate her assailant so that no others would be harmed.
     
     He had died before I was born. That was about all Mom had ever told me
about Dad. She never showed me any photos of Dad, or of the rest of the
family. She never even told me his name. No wedding pictures. And no baby
pictures of me, either. But she did make it clear to me that I wasn't
illegitimate.

     We didn't have a lot of friends, no close ones. No family, they had
all died with Dad, she wouldn't tell me how. It wasn't very cool, not
having big family get-togethers for Thanksgiving and stuff like that. An
occasional family dinner with a neighbor, or with some of Mom's coworkers,
but that was about it. It was almost always just Mom and I. It also meant
that I didn't get a lot of stuff for birthdays and Christmases, but Mom
tried hard to make up for it. But then, I didn't have to do a lot of
Christmas shopping for other people, either.
     It must not have been easy for Mom, raising me alone. It wasn't that
we were poor. We weren't rich either, but we always seemed to have enough
money to live on, and still have some left over for fun. She worked as a
research assistant for the Federal Bureau of Investigation in the Denver,
Colorado office, occasionally traveling to the other offices around the
country to carry out her research. Sometimes she would be gone for weeks
at a time, often arranging for a neighbor to look in on me from time to
time. She told me that it was boring mind-numbing work, sitting in front
of a computer terminal or sifting through dusty and musty old file
cabinets all day. It certainly didn't sound very cool.
     When I was in middle school Mom had finally remarried. A younger man,
and what a big gorgeous handsome hunk of a man! Steve was the starting
middle linebacker for the Denver Broncos of the National Football League.
Now that was cool! They had met during the summer when I was thirteen,
while I had been away at summer camp. By the time I came home from camp,
they were definitely a couple. They had gotten married the next spring,
after the football season. Being a flower girl at my own Mom's wedding was
cool. Very cool!
     It was also cool having all of those gorgeous hunks from the Broncos
at the wedding. Even if I didn't get to dance with any of them. Even if a
bunch of them were married. Even if they were all way too old for me. Just
having all those hunks around was SO cool!
     Mom wasn't a small woman; rather tall at five-eight, but Steve
absolutely made her look petite. They made a beautiful couple. I hoped
that my husband and I would look even half as good. When I got older and
got a husband of my own, that is. Not that I had a candidate husband in
mind. But with Mom's genes, I hoped that I wouldn't have much trouble
finding someone when the time came. I hoped that he would be even half as
good looking as the big gorgeous handsome hunk Mom had landed.
     Big, good-looking, smart, and with all the glamour, not to mention the
money, that goes with being a professional athlete, Steve could easily
have had his pick of women. Especially being a Bronco in Broncos-crazy
Colorado. It pleased me to no end that he had selected Mom over all of the
younger women that had been available to him. I had seen plenty of women
all but throw themselves at the eligible Broncos.
     Not that Mom looked like an 'older woman'. Even though she didn't work
out, she had kept her figure. Oh, we would occasionally jog or bike in the
park, and in the summers we would go hiking and camping up in the
mountains. Every winter we would hit the slopes a few times for a little
downhill skiing, we were living in Colorado, after all. But we weren't
particularly what you might call 'outdoor people'. Nor were we real health

nuts or sports fanatics, though I couldn't remember either of us ever
getting sick. She took proper care of herself, and of me, and we ate
right, but still had time for the frequent chocolate sundaes when it was
hot, or hot chocolate when it was cold, with me.
     She definitely didn't show her age, even without makeup. No wrinkles,
no lines around her eyes, straight lustrous black hair without the
slightest hint of gray. And she certainly was in shape. I never could beat
her when we raced our bikes in the park. Not that I was that particularly
athletic myself, preferring to curl up with a good book rather than doing
sports. But I wasn't a wimp or anything like that, I mean I didn't flunk
gym class or anything like that. I just preferred math to gym.
     And Steve had a real cool classic Porsche roadster. Though he'd barely
let me even touch it, and only when he was around. And he wouldn't even
talk about letting me drive it. Of course, I didn't have a driver's
license yet. Details, details.
     But then, he wouldn't even let Mom drive it either, so I didn't feel
too left out.
     After the wedding Steve bought a large house in the suburbs, in
Lafayette, northwest of Denver. Far enough to be out of the city but still
close enough to be convenient. And closer to Boulder, where Steve was
attending classes at the University of Colorado during the off-season,
working towards his master's degree in computer engineering. The house
wasn't a mansion by any means, but certainly adequate for the three of us.
Sometimes my new room almost seemed bigger than our previous apartment.
Cool!
     It was cool to have a yard of our own, even if I had to help out with
the yard work. As far back as I could remember we'd always lived in an
apartment. Now at night we couldn't hear our neighbors moving around and
talking. And we couldn't hear their stereos.
     Steve installed a gym in the basement so that he could work out at
home. The gym had a treadmill and a stationary bike and various weight
equipment, in addition to a wrestling mat. He would sometimes invite some
of his teammates over for workouts and some wrestling; he wasn't the only
player to also have wrestled in school in addition to playing football. He
also installed a steam room and a hot tub. Cool! Or hot, as the case may
be.
     Steve was always the perfect gentleman. Not the stereotypical 'dumb
jock', he was going to school to pursue a master's degree during the
off-season. He was always very sweet, even deferential, to Mom. He
absolutely doted on me, but without spoiling me rotten. Though sometimes I
wished that he would spoil me rotten. I mean, he certainly had the money
for it.
     Mom and Steve never argued, let alone fought. At least nothing major,
in front of me. If they ever argued over anything more important than
whether to go out for spaghetti or steaks on a Friday night, I certainly
couldn't remember it. There were a couple of times where I thought they
might argue, but Mom quickly defused the situation by suggesting to Steve
that they "talk it over tonight". Somehow, though, I always thought that
they did a little more than just "talk it over".
     Steve never was improper with me, even while Mom was away on one of
her long business trips. And he never spanked me. The threat of a spanking
was enough, more than enough, thank you, though he didn't resort to that
very often. I've seen what he did to opposing ball carriers on the
football field; I certainly didn't want him putting me across his knee and
swatting my behind with those big hands and those big powerful arms. If he
had, I probably wouldn't have been able to sit down for a week. I always
behaved myself when he got that stern father look in his eyes.
     Steve, I never could call him 'Dad' and he didn't expect me to, tried
hard to be a good father to me anyway. It couldn't have been very easy for
him, going from being a bachelor to being the father of a teenage girl in
one instant shot. In some ways he was more like an older brother than a
father to me. But when I needed him to be a father, he always was ready to
step into that rôle. Even sometimes when I didn't want him to be, like
when I tried to get a raise in my allowance or tried to stay up too late
watching TV on a school night.
     For our part, we were the perfect football family. We went to every
home game. Well, at least I did, Mom missed a few because of work. I even
got to be a ballgirl, down on the sideline with the team, a couple of
times. That was SO cool! Otherwise we would sit in the players' families'
section, cheering on the Broncos along with seventy-five thousand other
rabid screaming fans. Of course, like everyone else, we cheered for John
Elway and the offense. But our loudest cheers were reserved for the
defense, especially when one player in particular made a good play. And he
did make a lot of good plays, he was the leading tackler on the team.
     Mom got involved with the players' wives' organizations and their
charity activities. I got to meet all of the players and their families,
though of course none of them had any kids my age. Some of the coaches had
kids my age, or even older, though. Since I never knew Dad I couldn't tell
how Steve compared with him, but I hadn't seen Mom this happy, enjoying
life, for years.
     I had thought at first that Mom would quit her job after getting
married. After all, with Steve bringing home the big bucks, she didn't
need to work. But she continued on working. She told me that in its own
way the job had its interesting moments, and that she felt that she was
doing some good in the world.
     I didn't have a lot of friends my first year of high school. Of
course, at that age a girl's top three interests are boys, boys, and boys.
The other girls had seemed to have, well, 'matured' quicker than I had. I
was as skinny as a rail, and just about as shapely. And of course the boys
all favored the more 'mature' girls, they hardly gave me a glance, even
when I was wearing one of my many padded bras. Thus I tended to get left
out of most of the social activities. That wasn't too cool. No, not very
cool at all.
     I certainly didn't have anybody that even came close to being a
boyfriend. The only thing a boy saw in me was my complete set of Broncos
autographs. The only thing they wanted from me was something for their own
autograph collections, and usually that meant John Elway's. Though some of
the boys did ask for Steve's, but I just thought that they were just being
polite to me.
     The only time that a football player or any other athlete would even
talk to me was when they wanted me to ask Steve something. I kept hoping
that one of them would ask me out, but that only happened in my dreams. Oh
yes, I dreamed about dating one of these big dreamy hunks. A big dreamy
hunk like the one Mom had landed for herself.
     I was the most comfortable hanging out with the other nerds. We
weren't boys and girls, just nerds. There was very little sexual tension
in the air; we were much more likely to be discussing our homework
assignments than the latest fashions or who was going out with whom. For
the most part we were the social outcasts, the skinny boys and the
under-developed girls. The kids who never got dates. The only way I could
have fit in better would have been if I wore thick coke-bottle glasses and
tied my hair back in a bun.
     Danny certainly didn't count as a boyfriend. I was sure that he
wouldn't have minded having me as his girlfriend though, no matter how
skinny and unshapely I was. But he was too young for me, five years
younger than I was. He and his parents lived next door to us. He had a
crush on me ever since we had moved in. But then, I was sure that he had a
crush on every girl in town, he was at that age. I was just unfortunate
enough to be living right next door to him.
     The kid was definitely thrilled, and maybe even awed, to have a Bronco
living next door to him. No sooner had we moved in than he appeared on our
doorstep, a Broncos program clutched in his hands, nervously asking for
Steve's autograph.
     His mom and dad were right behind him, inviting us over for a dinner
party that night. They introduced us to all of our new neighbors.
     After that, Danny found every excuse he could to be with me. It did
get a little annoying at times, having this little kid hanging around me
all of the time. But when I sent him home, he would go.
     It wasn't that I didn't like the kid. He was okay, as a neighbor and
all that. His parents got along well with Mom and Steve. He was a nice
sweet kid, after all. But that was the problem. He was just a kid. I was
thirteen and he was only eight when we became next-door neighbors. Maybe
ten or twelve years from now, if I still hadn't landed a man of my own,
then I might be interested in him. But he'd probably have a girlfriend of
his own by then. Especially if he grew up looking anything like his dad.
     Then during the spring of my freshman year in high school, a few
months after my fifteenth birthday, my life had completely changed. That
had been when my manifestation had started, turning my life completely
upside down.
     That had been when I had learned about my real self, about my true
birthright, about my true parentage.
     
     I came home from school early that spring Friday afternoon, instead of
hitting the library to study with the other nerds as usual. I didn't see
Mom around, so I headed downstairs to see if I could do the kinds of
things with the weights that I had seen some of the boys at school do that
day in gym class.
     During my free hour that afternoon I had gone over to the library as
usual. But there had been a bunch of grade school kids on a tour of our
school. With all of the noisy brats around, I had picked up my books and
gone over to the relative quiet of the gym. Sitting up high in the
bleachers I had tried to study. But watching all of the boys down on the
floor working out with the weights had been quite distracting. A subject
quite worthy of study in its own right, but a subject that wasn't going to
help me keep up my grade point average any. But I didn't get much homework
done that hour anyway.
     Of course the boys would have laughed at me if I had tried to join
them in the gym at school, but at home in our gym maybe I could use some
of Steve's lighter weights. I knew that Steve was back at his college for
a few weeks, helping out the players on his old team during their spring
training, so if Mom wasn't around I would have our entire gym to myself. I
didn't bother changing clothes; I was wearing an extra-large Broncos tee
shirt and a pair of loose and faded blue jeans. My usual school clothes,
just the usual stuff that didn't show off the figure that I didn't have.
     When I got down to the basement gym, I found Mom already down there
doing some vacuuming. She got to the bench where Steve had his four
hundred plus pound weight. She couldn't get the vacuum cleaner under the
bench, so she just reached out with one hand and lifted it out of her way.
She lifted it all, the bench and the weight and everything. She finished
vacuuming around and under the bench and then put it all back down.
     I quietly sneaked back upstairs, not believing what I had just seen. I
went up to my room to consider what had just happened. Or what I thought
had happened. Or what I thought I had seen happen. By dinner time, I had
concluded that I hadn't actually seen what I thought I had.
     I didn't say anything about it to Mom. I mean, what was I going to
say? "Mom, how did you pick up Steve's heaviest weight and the bench with
just one hand? The weight that one of the strongest men in Colorado has to
use both arms on?" Yeah, right. I may be blonde, but I'm not THAT blonde.
     After an ordinary dinner and some TV, I couldn't get to sleep. My mind
kept going back to the sight of my slender Mom casually picking up the
bench and the weight that I had often seen Steve strain to lift.
     After some futile tossing and turning, I abandoned my attempts to
sleep. I put on a tee shirt and a pair of shorts and quietly headed down
to the gym. Turning on the lights I walked over to the bench and looked at
the weight, the one I had seen Mom move with no difficulty. It sure looked
like the same weight Steve struggles with. I had tried to lift it before,
just fooling around, but had never been able to budge it. In fact most of
his teammates that he's had over to our house had trouble bench pressing
it; only the biggest and the strongest of them could do it.
     Steve had taught me a little about lifting weights. I had worked out a
little with the smaller and lighter weights, with him coaching me. I
walked over to the weight rack and thought about trying one of them. But I
remembered that Mom had casually lifted his heaviest weight. And the
bench. With one hand!
     I walked back to the bench and looked down at the heavy weight. "Maybe
it's a fake," I said to myself, "one of those papier-mâché ones they use
for practical jokes and such stuff." I reached down with my right hand and
tried to lift it. It certainly didn't feel like a fake, it didn't budge at
all.
     I used both hands as I strained at it. I strained at it a little more
at it when something just, well, clicked. It was almost as if a switch
somewhere inside of me had just turned on. My muscles somehow felt
'different' as the weight came rapidly and smoothly up. Well, actually,
rapidly but not too smoothly. In fact I almost hit myself in the face with
the bar, it came up so fast.
     Then the weight caused me to lose my balance, as I pitched forward.
Instinctively I let go with my left hand and put it out to break my fall.
I just kind of lay there for a while, my body at a forty-five degree
angle, my left hand on the bench supporting me and the weight, which was
still clutched tightly in my right hand. I was holding Steve's heaviest
weight in just my right hand! What the heck was going on here?
     I was so stunned that I didn't think about what I was doing. I didn't
even bother to rack the weight before pushing myself back up to my feet.
Continuing to hold the bar in my right hand I raised myself up with my
left arm. I had to lean way back in order to balance the heavy weight so
that I could stand.
     I found that I could easily hold and lift the weight with just one
arm. "Wow! Cool! This is unbelievable!" After doing a few curls with each
arm, I put the weight down on its rack and just felt my new muscles. They
were incredible! When I flexed, they grew and they were rock-hard. Yet
when I relaxed they returned to their former and almost nonexistent state.
They weren't the huge muscles of a body builder, more like those of a
dancer or a gymnast. Or maybe a fitness model. This was SO cool!
     If the boys at the gym at school could see me now! With one hand I was
curling a weight that none of them could bench press. This was SO cool!
     I took my shirt off and turned around admiring myself and my new
muscles in the full-length mirror. I could see my muscles expand as I
flexed each one in turn. I finally had something on my chest, even if it
wasn't quite what I had long been hoping to have there. This was SO cool!
     I was flexing both arms, looking at my new biceps, when I heard the
door at the top of the stairs open. Grabbing my shirt, I jumped across the
room, killed the lights, jumped across the room again, and hid in the
steam room, peeking out through the slightly open door. I was still so
surprised at the night's events that I didn't notice that I had jumped all
the way across the gym in one bound, almost hitting the door.
     The gym door opened and the lights came back on. Mom entered the gym
dressed in her white terry bathrobe. She walked over to the bench where I
had just been, and then slipped out of her robe.
     My eyes almost popped out of my head! She was wearing the skimpiest
bikini that I had ever seen. It did very little to cover her sexy body.
There shouldn't have been enough material to even begin to support her
large full breasts, but they seemed to stand up on their own above her
incredibly narrow waist. I had known that she had a good figure, but wow!
She could have walked on to a Sports Illustrated swimsuit photo session
and immediately make everyone else forget about the other models. She
probably could have gotten a pictorial in Playboy if she had wanted to.
Maybe even "Playmate of the Month". Heck, forget that. Make her "Playmate
of the Year". Maybe of the decade.
     This is Mom? My Mom? With that drop-dead-gorgeous figure? Why didn't I
get THOSE genes from her? Or did I? How come she's got a figure like that
and I don't? I sure hoped that it was only because I was a late bloomer.
But how late a bloomer was I? Would my body EVER look like that?
     She reached down with her right hand and picked up the weight. Muscles
exploded onto her body as she began doing one-arm curls, doing five reps
with each arm between switching arms. She was absolutely AWESOME! Her
muscles were even bigger than my new muscles were.
     Putting the weight back down on the rack, she walked over to the
weight machine. I thought that she was going to use it for a workout, but
I never thought to see it used quite in the way she actually did.
     She squatted down next to it, partially inside the framework. Grasping
the frame, she slowly straightened her long, sexy legs, lifting the entire
machine up off the floor as muscles exploded onto those legs.
     I must have gasped out loud from the shock. Mom slowly lowered the
weight machine and then turned towards me. Somehow she knew exactly where
I was hiding. "Julie! What are you doing down here at this time of the
night?"
     "Mom! Wh-wh-what's ha-ha-happening? Wh-what's going on here?" I was
almost too shocked for words. I walked over to the bench, still holding my
shirt in my right hand. "Steve's no wimp, I mean being a pro football
player and all that, but he works with this weight. And you just picked it
up with one hand. And then the entire weight machine! And that's not all.
It's not just you." With that, I swung my shirt across my left shoulder
and began doing one-arm curls with the weight.
     Now it was her turn to be shocked. "Ho-ho-how long ha-ha-have
y-y-you...?" she stammered out, looking at the muscles that had appeared
on my arms and, well, my chest. At least there was something there now,
even if it wasn't quite I had been hoping for.
     "It started tonight. When I got home early from school I saw you
cleaning in here. You lifted up the bench and this weight so that you
could vacuum under it. I couldn't sleep so I came down here to see if I
could do it too. But I shouldn't be able to. Neither should you. It's all
Steve can do to bench press this weight. He has to work at it. What's
happening here? What's happening to us?"
     "Julie, why don't you go on up to the kitchen and get the hot
chocolate started while I change?" said Mom. The two of us always had our
serious 'girl-talks' over steaming mugs of hot chocolate. "And you, young
lady, first put your shirt back on," she finished with a smile.
     
     I'd just gotten the water heated up when Mom joined me in the kitchen,
dressed similarly in a Broncos tee shirt and shorts. "I hope that we have
enough hot chocolate. It's a good thing tomorrow is Saturday. This could
be a long night, my little one," she said, smiling rather enigmatically.
     "Mom, what's going on here tonight? Steve's one of the strongest men
in Denver, but we both just lifted his heaviest weight with no trouble.
With just one arm!" I flexed an arm, making my new biceps rise up.
     "Slow down, my little one, slow down!" she said, going over to the
cupboard to get the mugs. "Now pour the hot chocolate and I'll tell you
everything from the beginning. Though I had hoped not to have to tell you
this for another year or so."
     "Mom! I'm not a little child anymore! You've already told me about the
birds and the bees!" I considered myself lucky not to have shouted at
her.
     "No, no! You're certainly not a little child any more. Not THAT talk,"
she said, sitting down at the kitchen table and sipping her hot chocolate.
"Ahh, this hits the spot."
     "Mom! What's going on? You've got to tell me!"

     "Okay, okay! But make sure the pot's full. And then sit down. Like I
said, this could be a long night."
     I topped off the pot and sat down across the kitchen table from her.
"Mom! Tell me! What on Earth is happening here?"
     She laughed a little. "Funny you should say that, because a big
portion of the story didn't happen on Earth."
     "Huh? What's so funny? What are you talking about, Mom? Huh? What do
you mean, didn't happen on Earth?"
     "Oh, I knew I had to tell you everything eventually, Julie," she
began. "Very well, from the very, very beginning. First of all, my little
one, I'm not really your mother."
     OH WOW! THAT was certainly a GREAT beginning! It's not every day that
you learn that the person you've been calling 'Mom' all of your life isn't
really your mother. I was completely stunned. "B-b-but..." was all I could
manage to say.
     Over four pots of hot chocolate (and several trips to the bathroom)
she told me a story that seemed straight out of a bad science-fiction
movie. My dormant alien genetic heritage was starting to awaken.
Manifesting, she called it. We weren't "from around here", I was actually
a Velorian while 'Mom' was actually an Arion.
     "We were once the same race, the Supremis. A Supremis, once mature,
has several thousand times the strength of a Terran, along with other
powers including flight. The Arions had split with the Velorians. After
the two had split the Arions had unleashed a retrovirus on themselves,
attempting to remove all traces of Velorian appearance from themselves.
But the retrovirus had an unforeseen side effect, greatly weakening most
of the population and removing all of the other powers. Fewer than ten
percent, the 'Primes', retained their strength and most of their powers,
though at somewhat reduced levels. The power of flight was mostly gone,
only a few percent of Primes retained it."
     She was an Arion Beta, one of the greatly weakened Arions, with 'only'
several times the strength of a Terran.
     "But that weight machine. That took more than 'only' several times
human, uh, Terran strength, didn't it?"
     "True. I've been enhanced by your mother. I'm about fifty times
stronger than a Terran." She explained that it was possible for one
Supremis to enhance another person with some of the strength and powers of
the donor. She didn't give me too much detail, just that somehow my mother
had made her more than ten times stronger than she had been before.
     She had been with the Arion military until she had defected, allying
herself with the Velorians. She had fallen in love with one of them, my
mother. They had been captured together.
     "We were being held at a research station. Your mother had been
drugged, effectively rendering her powers useless, though without
affecting her DNA. The Arions were experimenting on her. They wanted to
restore flight and some other Velorian genetic characteristics that they
had lost to the retrovirus. They had succeeded in making her conceive
parthenogenically." Well, at least that explained why 'Mom' had never told
me anything about 'Dad'. Or had never shown me any pictures of him. Not
only was 'Mom' not my mother, but I didn't even have a father. Well, I

certainly wasn't illegitimate, even if Mom hadn't legally adopted me. What
paperwork we had showed her as my birth mother.
     She continued, "When she was near term, we were attacked by a Velorian
force. In the ensuing confusion we escaped on a lifeboat and found this
planet, landing up in the Colorado mountains. You were born the day after
we landed. Unfortunately, the drugs had so weakened your mother that she
died while giving you birth. Her last wish was that I take you as my own.
Since the day you were born I looked upon you as my own daughter."
     "Oh, Mom! Can I still call you that, since you're the only mother I've
ever known?"
     "Of course, Julie. I had hoped that you would. You've always been, and
always will be, my little one." After giving me a big hug, she told me
with a smile, "You do know your own mother better than you think. You have
her DNA exactly, since you don't actually have a father. In some ways you
are an exact clone of her, and in some ways you ARE her. And you are named
after her."
     She went on to tell me about the 'Protectors', a special type of
Velorian, especially bred for greatly increased strength and assigned to
Protect planets from the Arions. She told me about the weakening and
intoxicating effects of gold. I had never seen her wearing any gold
jewelry; even her wedding band was platinum. I had always assumed that was
because Steve had the money. Though she does wear some silver jewelry,
setting off her black hair. "Unless you're wearing gold, you're almost
completely immune to all Terran drugs and poisons. That's why you've never
been sick." She also told me about the Supremis libido, and the
pheromones. "In your case you can, and will, literally have boys sniffing
after you."
     "So if I'm a, uh, Velorian I should be stronger than you?"
     "When you're fully mature, you should be much stronger. Your mother,
your real mother, was about forty times stronger than I am. About as
stronger than me as I'm stronger than Steve is." She drained her mug and
stood up. "You wanna arm wrestle, my little one?"
     "Okay," I replied, putting my mug down and my elbow up on the table.
     "No, over here on the counter. We don't want to break the table. The
Terran furniture doesn't quite measure up to Supremis standards," she
laughed as she moved some pots and pans to clear some space on the kitchen
counter.
     We locked hands and she counted us off. Both of our arms bulged with
muscles as we strained ourselves, though my arm didn't bulge anywhere near
as much as hers. Eventually she managed to force my arm back and down
despite all of my efforts. She had to exert herself quite a bit, though
not fully.
     "Whew, that took some effort. Now is there any more of that hot
chocolate left?" She went back to the table and sat down, refilling our
mugs.
     I sat down with her. "So how strong am I? Did I put up more of a
struggle than Steve?"
     "More, a lot more, my little one. You should have no problem beating
him. Him and a couple of his teammates together!" she laughed.
     "So you've arm wrestled with him? Did he know about you, about us,
when he married you?"
     "Yes, of course he knew. I told him early on in our relationship. I
had to, if we were to have a meaningful relationship. Among other things,
I had to tell him that we could never have any children. Except for you,
my little one."
     "But you're not that old, are you? I mean, to give me a little brother
or sister?"
     "No, no, it's not that. Even though my driver's license says that I'm
forty-one, I'm actually seventy-one. As an Arion Beta, I'm not too old to
have children of my own. But it would take another Arion, or maybe a
Velorian, to give me a child. Of course, that doesn't keep Steve from
trying," she winked. "And trying. And he knows about you too, my little
one. Though we didn't expect you to start 'manifesting' until you were
closer to sixteen."
     "And he doesn't mind? I mean a big jock like him, with a woman who
could whip him with one hand behind her back? And, uh, being in bed with
you?"
     "Young lady!" she laughed. "He did propose, even after he knew. Maybe
I should say, especially after he knew! He's fascinated with my body and
my muscles. He loves it when I mount him and flex my muscles for him." She
flexed an arm.
     "But isn't he, uh, intimidated by your strength? An inferiority
complex or something like that? A big jock like him?"
     "At first I was afraid of exactly that. I don't make a habit out of
showing off my strength too much. Most men seem to think that they have to
be stronger than the woman is. Steve told me that if I was only two or
three times stronger than he was, then he might resent that and feel
inferior. But he says that I'm so far off the scale that it doesn't
matter. He says it would be like feeling inferior to a sports car because
he can't run that fast. In fact, he says it makes him feel superior,
because I chose him."
     "So how come you don't work out in the gym with him? I've never seen
you working out down there with him. Do you usually sneak down there in
the middle of the night, like you did tonight?"
     Looking out the window at the brightening sky, Mom laughed and said,
"You mean, like last night? No, I used to, early on, but he doesn't really
have enough weights to give me a good workout. And he said that my, uh,
muscles were distracting him too much. So we have our, uh, joint workouts
elsewhere in the house."
     "So that's why you two were so willing to let me have my bedroom on
the opposite side of the house?" I practically smirked at her.
     She smirked back at me, "Of course. We do get a bit, uh, enthusiastic
at times. Then I have to 'discipline' him sometimes," she said, winking at
me.
     "'Discipline' him? Black leather and chains and whips, huh?" I winked
back.
     "No, no!" she laughed. Standing up and striking a double biceps pose,
and I do mean BICEPS, she winked again and continued, "I don't need
anything more than these to 'discipline' him. But I do have a black
leather outfit that he bought me. And we sometimes wrestle a bit. He loves
it when I pick him up and toss him onto the bed. He says he loves being
ravished and 'raped' by his 'superwoman'. And I love it when he fights
back, punching my, uh, chest. Though sometimes I let him have his way with
me, I do have to take care of his fragile male ego, after all," she winked
again.
     I thought back on everything since Mom had married Steve. I couldn't
remember Mom ever asking him to open a bottle or a jar. If she couldn't
get the lid off of a jar, what was she going to do, leave it until I got
older? And I guessed that I could understand why Steve never spanked me,
not that I would ever spank him in retaliation. He's my stepdad, and Mom's
husband; I'd never do anything like that to him. I was sure Mom could
handle him on her own, without any help from me. She had so far, hasn't
she?
     As we turned from the hot chocolate to an early breakfast she went on
to tell me more about being a Velorian. I could go for days without food,
relying on the sun and the energy stored within my breasts. Well, when I
eventually get some breasts, that is. I wouldn't need to sleep as much,
maybe two hours a night; and I could go for several days without any sleep
at all, as long as I got some eventually at the end of it all. I hadn't
gotten any sleep at all last night, and I wasn't even a little bit sleepy.
Being an Arion she shared some of these traits with me, but being a 'mere'
Beta, at much reduced levels. "Once we're mature we don't need to work out
as much to keep our muscle tone, but I enjoy it. It's thrilling to see
what I can do with a Terran world-class athlete's weight equipment."
     "What about Steve? Do you let him get enough sleep? And have you ever,
uh, accidentally hurt him?"
     "I sometimes tease him, telling him I'm going to keep him awake to,
uh, service me until I'm ready to sleep. I like to think I have enough
control not to hurt him. Though he's often said that game days are a nice
relief from me, that a football game isn't nearly as rough as spending a
night with me," she said with a wink. "And I do, uh, leave him alone the
night before a game."
     While we did the dishes Mom explained that 'superwomen' or not, we
still have to do the household chores. "Though it does make it easier to
vacuum under the furniture," we both laughed.
     She also cautioned me to be careful around other people, to not show
off my strength. "I'm glad it happened here at home. Could you imagine
what would have happened if you had done that at school? Or if you crush
one of Steve's teammate's hand, just shaking hands with him?"

     
     That Saturday morning we started my physical training in earnest. She
started me out slow, only using twice the weights that Steve normally
used. I had to learn how to balance myself; it's not easy to stand up
holding five times your own body weight if you're not directly under it.
Unless you have flight powers, and I didn't. Yet. Mom told me that it was
only a matter of time, just a matter of growing up and letting Mother
Nature take her course. With a little assist from the Ancient Ones, who
had created the Velorian genomes from the Terran ones.

     Still, it was SO cool! The heavy weights that Steve and the other
professional athletes struggled with put no serious strain on my muscles.
I could curl with either arm the weights that they struggled to bench
press. I could squat and lift the entire weight machine. It was SO cool!
     It wasn't all weight training, though. Mom also worked me on my
agility and coordination. She had me on the treadmill for an hour at a
time, jogging at an easy fifteen miles per hour. I pedaled the stationary
bike for another hour at fifty miles per hour. I did isometrics, using my
muscles to provide the resistance that mere weights couldn't. She had me
bending and straightening copper pipes. Small ones. "You'll be working
your way up. Eventually you'll be bending solid steel bars without any
effort." She started teaching me some Arion and Velorian martial arts, as
well as ordinary Terran wrestling.
     My after-school workouts weren't tiring me out, but I knew that I was
pumping a lot more iron than any of the boys in school could, a lot more.
Mom told me that soon I would be pumping a lot more iron than the entire
varsity football team combined. Each day I couldn't wait to get home from
school so I could continue to train. Though I didn't pedal my bike home as
fast as I could, the stationary bike had taught me to control my speed. It
wouldn't have looked right for the blonde teenager in the ponytail zooming
past all of the motorists, her legs pedaling furiously on her bike.
     Monday morning it had taken me longer to get dressed than usual. When
I had grabbed the waistband of my jeans and pulled, there was a loud RIP
and the sturdy denim just came apart in my hands. I had to hunt up another
clean pair of jeans. And then a new set of shoelaces, I had tugged a
little too hard lacing up my sneakers. I was going to have to be very
careful in the locker room before and after my gym class. I wasn't in the
habit of taking extra clothes to school.
     This was SO cool! After Mom had married Steve, I'd often wondered what
it would be like to be that strong. Now I didn't have to wonder any more.
Steve was one of the strongest men around, yet now with one hand I could
easily lift twice the weights that he could. And my muscles were nowhere
near as big as his were. He probably wished he had Mom's strength, and now
mine. Imagine a big strong pro football player being made to look like an
absolute weakling by his wife and teenage stepdaughter! I was going to
have to be very careful in gym class from now on, to not show off too
much. And I wasn't anywhere near full-grown. According to Mom, when I was
fully mature I would be about a hundred times stronger than I was now,
about two thousand times stronger than Steve. I wasn't sure I could even
imagine being that strong, stronger than the entire active rosters of the
National Football League. But that would be SO cool!
     Mom always joined me downstairs in the gym as soon as she got home
from work and changed. She was absolutely incredible! The muscles on her
beautiful body would explode as she would practically toss the heaviest
weights around as if they were no more than dirty laundry.
     Mom started a logbook on me, carefully recording my progress in
detail. "I want to keep detailed records of your development, my little
one. I want to make sure you reach your full Velorian potential. This
yellow sun is so different from the stars that Arions and Velorians have
been used to. And your, uh, unique genetic origin may have some other
effects."
     We also arm wrestled every day. I still couldn't beat her, but I could
tell that I was forcing her to use a considerable portion of her strength.
She estimated my strength at well over thirty Terrans, more than half of
hers.
     A major part of my training involved learning to use just my 'normal'
strength, so I didn't 'accidentally' break things. Or even worse, hurt
somebody unintentionally. Like hugging a boy too hard.
     Yeah, right. What boy would I hug? What boy would want to be hugged by
me? Even if I didn't crush his ribs, why would he want to hug some alien?
Even if I wasn't a green-skinned bug-eyed monster.
     But I guessed that I wouldn't have to worry about some bully at school
trying to beat me up. Or trying to do, well, something else to me. Not
that anybody had tried.
     Mom also cautioned me against becoming a bully myself. Not that I
could imagine myself using my new strength to impose my will on other
people. Well, not too much. I just really couldn't see myself beating up
other kids for their lunch money or anything like that. But if I saw
somebody trying to beat up one of my friends, it might be different.
Though I just couldn't see myself doing anything like that, even to
protect one of my friends.
     Julie the Avenger? Give me a break!
     And Julie the Bully? No way!
     Though I knew now that no boy could force himself on me, I knew that
if I wanted to, I could force myself on any boy that I wanted to. But that
would be rape. And at my age, and the age of my classmates, statutory rape
at that. Julie the Rapist? No way! That would be so totally uncool!
     Still, I thought about how cool it might be to show off my strength.
But I could see that it wouldn't be too cool trying to explain myself
afterwards. I'll just have to keep our little family secret. After all,
Mom had kept the family secret from me all of these years.
     But not all of my training was physical. Mom wouldn't let me neglect
my schoolwork. She told me that it was just as important to exercise the
muscle between my ears.
     
     The next Saturday Mom drove us up into the mountains for "a little
fresh air and exercise," as she called it. It was still early in the
spring, so we had the cool Colorado mountains almost completely to
ourselves. Finding an isolated trailhead we started jogging and running a
little. A 'little' understated what we did. Our 'jog' would have made a
marathoner green with envy, while our 'run' would have left an Olympic
sprinter behind in our dust. This was SO cool!
     We came across a clearing caused by a rockslide. Mom went up to a
boulder and squatted down. I could see the muscles bulging under her baggy
sweat suit as she strained to lift it. She straightened her legs as she
hoisted it up to her chest. Shifting her grip, she lifted it over her head
and pressed it a few times before lowering it down. "I think that's just a
little over a ton. You try it, my little one."
     I stepped up to the boulder and took a look. I still had my doubts.
This was all still too new for me. I had thought that it would require a
crane or some dynamite or some such thing to move such a big boulder. I
had never imagined anyone being strong enough to move it. Until I had seen

Mom do it, that is.
     I squatted down and tried to lift it. I strained at it. I strained at
it some more. It slowly came up. I slowly straightened my legs. As I tried
to shift my grip I slipped and dropped the boulder. I managed to jump back
just in time to avoid getting crushed as the boulder came crashing back
down.
     "Okay, you've still got quite a bit more to grow," Mom said as she
helped me to my feet. "Don't worry, my little one. I didn't expect you to
start manifesting any of your powers until you were closer to sixteen.
You're already a year ahead of schedule."
     She also started exploring my other Velorian powers. My hearing and
vision seemed to be a little better, but we really couldn't measure them
up here. She told me how a Velorian flies, by flexing her muscles to
generate flying power, but after I jumped up into the sky several times
only to fall on my face, she made me stop trying. "You're still a long way
from your full strength. I'm not too surprised that most of your powers
are still a ways away too."
     After a little more lifting, with me doing smaller boulders and
working on my balance, Mom called it a day. "We'll have to remember this
place and come back when you're stronger." We jogged back to the car and
drove home, discussing the really important things in life, like my
schoolwork and the boys in my classes, all the way.
     
     The following week I continued to train. I was using three times
Steve's normal weights, which was about all we had. I had the treadmill up
to over twenty miles per hour. The stationary bike was maxed out at eighty
miles per hour. This was SO cool! She continued to teach me wrestling and
the martial arts. While my muscles were big enough to impress me, Mom's
were much larger. When she flexed fully, her muscles were big enough to
make Arnold envious. "You have an advantage over me. Pound for pound and
fiber for fiber, your Velorian muscles will be much stronger than my Arion
Beta muscles. When you reach your prime your muscles won't be as big as
mine, but you'll be far, far stronger."
     We also continued to arm wrestle every day. I was getting stronger,
but I still couldn't beat her. "You should have no trouble taking on half
a dozen of Steve's teammates at once," she told me. "Arm wrestling or just
plain wrestling."
     "And how many of them have you taken on yourself?" I asked her with a
smile.
     "Oh, I haven't. We don't want to show off in front of too many people.
But after some of those little wrestling 'tournaments' Steve has down here
with some of his teammates, he's told me that he fantasizes about seeing
me wrestling all of them at once. And winning easily!" she laughs.
     "What about playing football? You'd be awesome on the field! I'm sure
Steve could get you a try-out with the Broncos."
     "Oh, but that wouldn't be fair to the men. I'm so much stronger and
quicker than they are. It would be like Steve playing in a Pop Warner
game. But sometimes, while watching a game tape, he'll point out a missed
tackle or a blown assignment and describe how I could have done better."
She gave me another wink. "But I only tackle people in bed."
     "Mom!"
     "Steve loves it when I tackle him, as long as he has a nice soft bed
to fall on to."
     
     This was so incredible! I had been so impressed with the strength that
Steve and his teammates had shown as they worked out with the heavy
weights in the gym. But now, even the heaviest of the weights weren't
really challenging me, I could lift any of them with just one arm. Mom was
having me do exercises with one arm or with one leg. She also had me doing
isometrics, using one muscle against another to provide more resistance
than the mere weights could.
     I couldn't even imagine the look on Danny's face if I was to show him
what I could do now. I had joined him a few times shooting hoops in his
driveway. I was taller, but he was quicker. But not any more. If I wanted
to, I could easily go around him now. Or over him, dunking the ball. With
him hanging on around my neck.
     Of course I wasn't about to show him anything like that. Or anybody
else, for that matter. Just Mom, and Steve, when he comes home.
     Won't that big professional athlete be surprised at just what his
little stepdaughter can do now?
     Won't it be SO cool to show that big professional athlete just what
his little stepdaughter can do now?
     
     This was SO cool! Oh boy, are we going to have a surprise for Steve
when he comes home tomorrow morning! The girl welcoming him home won't be
the same little girl he left behind just three short weeks ago. No, I
definitely was not the same little girl I had been three weeks ago!
     Mom and I have a little surprise party all planned out for him. Though
of course Mom won't let me overdo our little surprise party. It's still
going to be SO cool!

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