c. 1997 Autolycus
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Here's the deal: This is a scene from a work-in-progress about a genetically altered female who is not only a perfect physical specimen, but also has psychic abilities. She was created by the US government to be the ultimate espionage agent, although her creator/father, the late Dr. Smitrovich didn't know that at the time. She was seized by an ultra-secret anti-terrorist government agency, the Aegis Group, and (ultimately, but against her will) trained in martial arts and other forms of combat, although she refuses to kill anybody, which drives the head of the AG, General Armitage Winsome, absolutely nuts. By the way, her name is Jessica Chance and this is her first meeting with a psychotic, sociopathic, homicidal maniac named Melanie Chaos.
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The base appears to be deserted. Light from the waning moon reflects off the muddy puddles and ramshackle structures of the abandoned training facility as a lone figure makes its way cautiously through a narrow gap in the collapsing chain-link fence. The figure is dressed completely in black, but the outfit hugs the body so tightly that it's obvious the intruder is a woman. The prominent chest, with cone-like breasts threatening to tear through the fabric, and the slim, but not quite delicate, waist are ample proof of that. As soon as she is on the grounds of the former base, she freezes, listening intently with her ears, and with another sense which other humans lack, for any sign that she is not alone. Satisfied, she breaks into a brisk trot, her magnificent breasts swaying rhythmically to her footsteps, toward the abandoned building which, according to the map she'd procured from General Winsome's private safe, once served as the facility's headquarters.

She is not sure what she actually expects to find here. Ideally, some proof that the General was using this base to train the terrorists which had caused the destruction throughout the country, forcing President Hemdale to sign the Executive Order which not only ensured the continuation of the Aegis Group, but gave them carte blanche to use whatever means they deemed necessary to not only combat terrorism worldwide, but particularly in the continental US; and also allowed them to seize her away from the Project: Angel team and force her to work for the General.

Reaching the building, she pauses, listening once more with both her ears and that other sense for some signal that she is not alone, and then slowly pushes open the metal door and enters the main reception area.

The tile floor is caked with dust and cobwebs hang like torn shrouds from every corner of the ceiling as she makes her way down the hall, toward the office which once served as the Commanding Officer's. She walks without hesitation, the map from the General's safe branded into her enhanced memory.

She stops. The door to the CO's office is open, and lit. She strains with that other sense, but can detect no other presence. Puzzled, she approaches the open door and peers inside and gasps in astonishment and disbelief.

Seated on the desk, curvaceous legs crossed beneath her, is a woman with long, black hair and eyes that glint like polished coal. She is wearing an outfit of red leather: A mini skirt, with a "rape me" slit going all the way up to the thin white belt hanging jauntily on her slim waist, and a matching red leather brassiere, which just barely contains her 38DD's, and vest. Boots, also of red leather, hug her legs up to mid-thigh. While muscular, she has the well-toned body of a dancer, as opposed to the high-definition one of a body-builder, although her stomach, clearly visible between the bra and skirt, ripples with muscle.

"Geez, sis," the brunette sighs, exhaling smoke languorously and stubbing out a cigarette in an already crowded ashtray, "I thought you'd never get here. What took you so long?"

The woman in black reaches up and removes her hood, allowing hair the color of a Summer sunset to cascade down and around her shoulders. She fixes intense green eyes on the other and scowls slightly. "`Sis'?" she inquires. "I have no sisters." She begins to slip out of her black suit, revealing her own well-developed body.

The raven eyes of the brunette glide appreciatively over her form, lingering on the firm, conical breasts, and noting with satisfaction that her own are the larger of the pair. "Well, not technically, perhaps," she concedes. "Sisters in spirit, though."

Jessica is now wearing only a one-piece thong body suit made of black fishnet. Her scowl deepens at the brunette's words. "Who are you?" she demands.

"My name isn't really important, just something somebody else gave me, but, if you must know, it's Melanie. Melanie Chaos," she replies, giggling slightly. "Not as haughty as yours, Jessi dear, but, like I said, I didn't choose it." Melanie cocks her head slightly as Jessica drops into a defensive pose, arms raised as if expecting an attack. "What are you doing, practicing for a black belt?"

"I already have a tenth degree black belt in several disciplines, I don't need to practice," she replies, tensing in anticipation.

"You honestly think I'm going to physically attack you?" Melanie laughs. "Honey, I don't need to touch you to hurt you."

Jessica is suddenly slammed against the wall of the room, hard. The quickness of the assault leaves her stunned and gasping for breath as it felt as if a giant fist drove itself into her solar plexus.

"But, I don't want to hurt you, sis. Not yet," the other adds. "First, I want to have some fun. Daddy, er, the General, rarely lets me have any fun, so I have to take advantage of this situation."

"General Winsome is your father?" Jessica pants, rising shakily to her feet.

"That's what he tells me. Personally, I don't see much of a resemblance, do you?"

"Only in your characters," nods the redhead.

"Hmmm? Oh, I see what you mean. Yeah, I suppose we do resemble each other in that regard," she chuckles. "Daddy tells me you've never killed anyone, that you refuse, and that you won't have anything to do with guns. Is that true, sis?"

"It is. Life is precious and guns are immoral. Just how did you come to have psychic powers? Project: Angel was disbanded years ago."

"Well, the project may have been officially disbanded, but, let's just say that others continued on the work of the late Dr. Smitrovich and I am the end result of their efforts," she proclaims.

Jessica braces herself for another psychic attack, while preparing her own mind to lash out, if need be. "You can't be more than 19 or 20, two years younger than I am at the most. Which would mean that you were born before the General even knew about Project: Angel," Jessica points out.

"Oh, I may look 19 or 20, but I'm really only five," she giggles, and Jessica realizes with a start that it is the innocent laughter of a child. "The Aegis Group has perfected a method of rapidly accelerating the growth process in prenatal animals and humans. Also of slowing it down postnatally. I'll look like this for many, many years."

"I would have thought the General would be looking for some way of reversing the aging process, not accelerating it," Jessica muses.

"Oh, Daddy is working on that, he just isn't having much luck yet," Melanie confesses. She begins to smile and Jessica suddenly feels something caressing her whole body at the same time. It is as if hundreds of soft, delicate hands are touching every inch of her. "What else have you never done, eh, sis?" the brunette grins, her own hands cupping her breasts and gently massaging them.

Then, Jessica senses a presence entering her, probing, tickling, nibbling at her clitoris, and, against her will, she finds herself enjoying the sensation.

"Never been fucked either, have you, sis?" demands Melanie. "Never had anyone inside you physically, or emotionally, have you? You really do think you're some kind of holier-than-thou angel from Heaven sent to save humans from themselves, don't you? Fuckin' Daddy was right about you, sis. You are a virgin, in more ways than one. But," she adds, sliding off the desk and approaching the redhead, who is quivering helplessly with ecstasy, "that's about to change." She picks up a large black dildo and slaps it hard against the palm of her left hand.

Jessica, her tongue lolling from her slack mouth, shakes her head, even as the hundreds of hands suddenly became thousands, and then millions, invading every centimeter, every atom, of her it seems.

"Oh, yes, sis. Oh, yes, indeed. Now, turn around," as she says this, Jessica, not of her own volition, spins around, presenting her beautifully rounded ass, divided by the thong's "butt-floss," to the brunette. Melanie licks her lips and thrusts the dildo up and into Jessica's anus, pressing her breasts to the redhead's back and leaning around and taking the lolling tongue in her mouth, playfully biting it.

As the dildo pumps up and down inside her, Melanie, releasing her tongue, but caressing Jessica's ass cheeks with her left hand, whispers:

In the five years since I was born, I've lived more than you have in your twenty-two, sis. I was raped shortly after my first breath and killed a man on my second day--The same pig of a technician who raped me the day before. I have been in training since my first week and have mastered all of the martial arts. I am also proficient in the use of weapons and can use a Lugar and a falchion with equal expertise. I've made love--Okay, I admit it, I fucked 'em or raped 'em; love is for losers--to thousands of men and women (and livestock and inanimate objects, but who's keeping track?), usually just before I snuffed 'em. Including, I might add, your precious Dr. Smitrovich. Smitty was a bit reluctant at first--Guess he really believed all that crap he and the other Angel Team personnel forced down your throat and into your head--but I managed to persuade him. He came in my mouth just as I snapped his neck, so I guess the guy wasn't the saint he wanted to be, after all.