ULTIMATE POWER SIDE STORY: THE TRIPLETS (Part 1)
by DustyBottums - written for DTM / Amy's Conquest

*** The Below is an extended segment from this story, written for us by the
Extremely talented author and CGI Animator, DustyBottums (creator of Mankillers)
!

For the Full Story of "Ultimate Power Side Story: The Triplets (Part 1)", please
 
visit our Member's Section at Amy's Conquest (www.amysconquest.com), OR check us
 
out at our New sister site, Amy's Conquest Store (www.amysconqueststore.com).

Thanks all, and as always, I hope you all Enjoy! ***

**********
12:37 a.m.

The Bradley Gallery at the Baltimore Museum of Art and Science



The world swam back into focus, slowly, followed swiftly by a thudding pain in
his temples that was not unlike some of the hangovers he remembered from his
college days, some 15 years before. The enormous space of the gallery was dark,
as it usually was this time of night. Small, dim cones of yellowish accent light
shone onto the paintings on the walls of the hall; the pale night lighting shone
in crescent moon shapes on the polished marble of the floor.


More of Stephen Nelson's senses came back into focus, some of them in
razor-sharp detail ... including his memory of his last few conscious seconds ... .


***

A normal night ... quiet ... he had been walking his patrol through the dark halls and
auditoriums of the museum ... the silent, watchful eyes of the portraits on the
walls ... the haunted countenances of artistic subjects long dead ... the lonely,
singular sounds of his shoes on the floor ... all normal ... until that one strange
sound. A soft rustle ... a barely audible sound of disturbed air ... a strange, quiet
grinding sound.


Then he had noticed the rope.


The thin, black braided length of climber's rope hung down from the high ceiling
to a height about twenty feet from the floor. He craned his neck upwards
quickly, tracing the rope to where it disappeared in the gloom; above even that
was the dim outline of the huge atrium-style skylight, dimly illuminated by the
night lights of the city outside. A rope! Right to the window ... .and in the murky
depths of darkness ... .


 ... he thought he could make out the shadowy form of a person up there!


He shifted, his hand going to his side where we wore his pistol, and suddenly
everything - and the course of his life - changed.


A huge impact rattled him. It was almost as if he had been tackled from behind
by the NFL's biggest linebacker. A thought buzzed through Steve's mind - Damn! A
thief! Already inside! - and he staggered forward, a weight settling onto him.
He realized someone had grabbed him from the back as an arm snaked around his
throat, lightning-fast. Two legs slammed down against him, trapping his arms
against his sides.


He wobbled a bit, his legs suddenly compensating for the weight of two people,
but he didn't go down ... .yet.


The arm tightened against his throat, and again he heard the strange grinding
sound ... and then his situation got even stranger. He caught a scent, high and
pleasant, almost like strawberries. He was thunderstruck. His eyes glanced down
in time to see his assailant's feet lock together before him, and his shock was
doubled: His attacker was a woman!


Her feet were clad in black, shiny boots; the heels weren't quiet stilettos but
they were definitely tall. The boots clung tightly to the attacker's feet and
leg; the shiny surface reflected even the dim lighting of the gallery, and the
calf bulged noticeably as she adjusted her hold. The boots ended just below the
knee, and Steve saw that the woman's legs were covered in the same material as
the boot. Her hold on his neck was too tight for him to rotate his head downward
for a better look, but he could just barely make out two thick, sleek thighs
gripping him tightly. His eyes were wide in shock and surprise. His confusion
grew even more when he heard her speak.


"Why, hello there," his attacker whispered in his ear. "You're a little early on
your round, this time. That's okay, we'll still play with you. Just, not quite
yet. Maybe you should take a little nap till you're ready," she purred.


Then Steve heard the grinding sound again, and realized it was the shiny,
leather-or-latex-like material she was wearing making a creaking as she moved.
She adjusted her hold on him, and he felt her body come alive in an impossibly
tight muscular embrace. His arms were driven into his sides, and all feeling
below his shoulders disappeared suddenly. His ribs shifted painfully, and he
could feel a sudden, ominous creaking as the very air was driven from his lungs.
He felt as if he was trapped in a hydraulic winepress.


Panicked, he realized he couldn't draw in a breath. It didn't matter, though;
his unseen assailant increased her hold on his neck as well. He felt her forearm
harden into a granite lever against his throat; the round iron ball of her bicep
pushed against the side of his neck as she pushed his head down with her other
arm. It took only a few seconds.

***


"Oh, look, he's awake," Steve heard a woman say as his eyes slowly batted open.
"I guess I didn't kill him after all."


If Steve Nelson hadn't been shocked by his sudden and savage attack, he was
shocked now.


He was sitting down, his back propped up against a display case. His hands were
bound behind his back, his legs stretched out before him. And in front of him
stood the most exceptional example of womanhood he had ever seen.


He couldn't be sure of her age; she was fairly young, mid-to-late 20s perhaps,
although her voice wasn't nasal or chirpy; it was a medium-low, throaty voice
that would have been just as at home on a phone sex line as in person. Her hair
was jet black, a few stray lengths of bangs falling over her forehead, the
majority woven into two large braids that were almost but not quite pigtails
that started above and behind her ears and ended at about her shoulders. Her
eyes were framed by arching eyebrows and thick black lashes, and peered at him,
cat-like, the iris a shockingly iridescent - almost electric -- greenish-blue.
Her skin was a flawless, a china-white that spoke less of paleness than it did
of perfection never damaged by the sun. Her full, cupid-bow lips were ruby red,
wet and shining. Her jaw was the tiniest bit more square than the classic
feminine ideal, the chin showing just the hint of a cleft indentation. Her
beauty was, quite literally, stunning. Her neck was thick; the fullness of a
trained athlete. Her body ... 


This was the point where Steve Nelson stopped trying to make sense of things.


The woman's body was human perfection incarnate.


Her entire body was encased in a form-fitting catsuit of a shiny black leather
or maybe even latex-type material ... so tight and so thin that it seemed it must
have been applied with an airgun. It was the same material that he had heard
creak and groan as she had shifted her hold on him, and now he understood why:
The woman had the body of a comic book superheroine. She didn't have the
disproportionate, awkward build of the biggest classic bodybuilder; she instead
sported the thick, full, sleek and feminine musculature that the very biggest,
most muscular of modern figure competitors would kill for. The shiny black
material must have been very thin indeed, for it easily put the shocking
muscular definition of the woman on full display: the small rounded cobblestones
of her abdominals, the meaty sweep of her quads as she shifted her weight from
foot to foot, the girth and muscular separation of her arms, the sheer width of
her muscle-capped athletic shoulders. She flexed her hands, which were encased
in shiny black, tight fingerless gloves that matched the rest of her attire.


She squared her shoulders and thrust out her chest as she watched him look her
over, her eyes sparkling as she did so. She wore a thin webbed belt, also black,
from which dangled a few items that looked like professional climbing gear. The
thin line of a zipper ran over the ridges of her abs, toward her collar ... and
ended suddenly, where the plunging V-neck of the catsuit revealed the most
stunning display of huge, incredibly firm cleavage he had ever seen. The woman
sported a bust that could launch a thousand ships ... and maybe sink them, too.
Perfectly round, full, and obviously firm; the zipper revealed enough of the
wondrous twin globes to take his breath away, the impossibly firm inner edges
just barely touching in a delightful display as the zipper was just below the
mid-nipple line.


"So ... .whaddya think?" the young woman said crisply, and drew her arms up in a
double bicep flex. The sleek, full girth of her arms swelled visibly, an ominous
mound of muscle pushing against the slick, shiny fabric with an audible creak of
leather. The twin globes of granite-like muscle rose higher, encased in the inky
black material, silvery-white spots of reflected light dancing across the
surface. As her body swelled with power, she went from stunning and obviously
athletic to truly intimidating in the flash of a second.


Steve's mouth worked in a silent stammer, his eyes taking in the scene before
him. And if that wasn't enough, the situation got even more surreal when his
ears got into the game.


"So, do we play with him now, or later?" his attacker's voice said. Which was
impossible, as Steve was staring at her as he heard the words and her mouth
hadn't moved. His eyes widened even further when another woman stepped out from
behind the first.

She was another black-haired beauty, dressed in exactly the same kind of
glistening catsuit, similar tools dangling from an identical webbed belt. She
stepped off to the left a little, her hands balled into fists that rested on her
hips. She arched an eyebrow, and she and the first woman broke out in identical
smirks. It was then Steve realized the women looked exactly the same; they were
obviously twins. They could have been carbon copies of each other, except only
that this new intruder wore her raven-black hair curled in a tightly twisted
bun.


"Well, I say we play with him now, and later," another voice intoned, and
Steve's mind reeled again as yet a third woman stepped out to the right. She too
was dressed in black, the skintight material hugging every centimeter of her
powerful frame. This third woman stepped out to the right, her awesome body
seeming to radiate strength, much like her companions. She smirked, and
stretched mightily, her thick, sleek muscles bulging with power. She sighed with
delight and rested her hands on her hips, and cocked her hips to the right. Like
the second woman, this one was identical to the first; the same stunning build,
the same clothes, the same tool belt ... and the same flawless, gorgeous face. She
shared the same bit of bangs in her black hair, but the rest of the
shoulder-length of it was drawn back in a ponytail that bobbed sexily as she
tilted her head to look at him. "What's the matter, big boy? Cat got your
tongue?"


"But ... .but ... uh ... .wh ... wh ... "


"Aw, poor little guy," the second woman mocked. "Look, you already broke part of
him. He can't talk right anymore."


Steve shook his head as if to clear it, and concentrated. "Wh ... who ... who are
you?!?" he demanded.


All three women smiled even more broadly, the first leaned forward a little and
winked at him. "Isn't it obvious? We're sisters," she said.


"Identical," the second moaned.


"Triplets," the third breathed sexily.


"But ... but ... but what are you doing here?" Steve demanded angrily, his senses coming
back to him at last.


"Isn't that obvious, sugar?" the first sister asked him mockingly. "Why, we're
robbing you, of course."


"Robbing me?"


"Yes, isn't this a museum?" the second asked.


"And aren't you being paid to guard it?" the third asked.


"But"""


"And," the first woman took a menacing step toward him, the thick, meaty
fullness of her latex-encased leg bulging as she did so, "haven't you already
failed? After all, I knocked you out cold in seconds. And now, we're going to
introduce ourselves. Then, we'll introduce ourselves to your coworkers."


"They won't enjoy that process at all," the second woman interjected
cryptically, her dark eyes sparkling with ill-concealed malice.


"And then we'll take what we came for," the third added.


"And then, just before we leave, we might play with you for a bit," the first
'sister' finished. "That is, if you're a good little boy." She shared a glance
with the other two and they all giggled evilly.


"But ... why are you here? Why are you in this place?"


"Every year, for only one night ... my sisters and I play a game. It's a very
special game, and we love playing it. We choose a theme, a type of occasion ... "


"A clich', if you will," the second added.


"We train for it, all year long ... and then we re-enact it ... our way," the third
finished.


"For instance, two years ago, we were firefighters," his attacker said.


"Only, we had to take over the firehouse first," the second said.


"Those big, strong firefighters never had a chance," the third sister said.


"And there were nine of them," his attacker went on. "What chance do you think
three little security guards have in tonight's game?"


Warning bells went off in Steve's head. Something seemed familiar about her
story ... something about a firehouse virtually torn apart, along with the entire
regiment of firefighters in it, their bodies hopelessly mangled ... somewhere on the
other side of the city ... why didn't he pay more attention to the news? And, they
knew how many guards there were in the museum. Himself; Paul Donnelly, a
40-yr-old 6'2" brute of a man, and Dan Kincaid, the new guy, a fit fellow of
only 27.


"And last year, what lacked in number made up for in ... intensity. One poor little
boy found out what it was like to play with three little girls at a tea party."


"Play hard with three little girls," the second said.


"Hard," the third emphasized.


The first sister smiled broadly. "Ummm ... .he was a lovely toy. It's a shame that
we break our toys so easily."


The second sister stepped closer to the third and wrapped an arm around her
waist in a strangely suggestive way. "Yes, we broke him in such a lovely way,"
she moaned.


"Airplane," the third sighed, and all three of them giggled again at the
remembrance.


"So, this year, we're trying something new!" First Sister said. "Guess what we
are!"


"Huh?" Steve asked stupidly.


"Guess what we are playing this year," Second Sister said.


"Uhh ... "


"Only one guess," Third Sister said, and cracked her knuckles threateningly. "Or
you will have to pay the penalty."


"And you don't want that," Second Sister added.


"Ummm ... burglars?" Steve said, unsure and intimidated by the sheer size of these
three fearsome women.


"Bingo!" First Sister cried, and touched the tip of her nose with the pad of her
index finger. "Right on the nosey!"


"But more specifically," Second sister said.


"This year we are ... " Third said.


All three sisters struck a pose, their sleek latex-encased muscles bulging.
First Sister spread her legs in an action stance, hands raised in huge fists.
Second sister turned left, crouched low, hands extended in martial-arts chop
fashion; Third knelt to the right and thrust out her hands in a palm strike
pose.


"SUPER-KARATE-CHOPPING-CAT-BURGLARS!" they cried in unison from their 'Charlie's
Angels' stance. They laughed at their silliness, but they still looked plenty
intimidating to Steve.


"Now, the formal introductions," First Sister said. She stepped forward,
twiddling the twin ends of her braided pigtails with her fingertips. "My name is
Lilly," she said, and then did something extraordinary.


She leaned down to where Steve sat, hands bound, and grabbed the front of his
shirt and jacket with her right hand, and balled it into a fist. Then, with no
visible effort, she thrust the fist upward, slowly, and Steve rose up with it.
He rose until his feet dangled above the floor. She saw his look of wonder as
she held him effortlessly at arm's length, and she chuckled. Then, equally
amazingly, she drew him down and closer, and covered his mouth with the slick,
velvety softness of her own crimson lips, her tongue pushing into his mouth and
playing with his own, rolling, twisting, and turning; his mind spun at her
unthinkable feat of strength and then her incredible kiss. He heard her moan
softly with desire before she broke the embrace.


"Pleased to meet you," she said, her eyes flashing in the dim gallery light.


"He's glad to meet you, too!" Second Sister cried, and pointed.


Steve's pants were tented out in a fashion that spoke of his huge and sudden
erection. The two other girls laughed, stepped forward, and gripped the leather
of his belt from opposite sides. With a subtle nod from Lilly, they tore his
uniform pants and underwear from his body with a sudden flex of their mighty
muscle-packed forms; their combined motion easily tore the fabric and thick
leather belt in two ... .suddenly he was dangling from Lilly's grip naked from the
waist down, his member bobbing hugely.


"Hmmm," Lilly sighed questioningly. "I'm not sure. Are you glad to meet me,
mister?" she asked, and then swirled her tongue through her mouth, and then
licked the latex-clad palm of her left hand and her bare fingertips wetly. Still
holding him aloft without any sign of effort, she wrapped the long elegant
fingers of her left hand around his shaft and squeezed gently, and then slowly
stroked the length of him. "Are you glad? Hmmm? Are you glad to meet me?"


Steve fought it, struggling in her incredible grasp, his feet kicking in the
air, but to no avail.


"Stop struggling," Second said, nearly hypnotically.


"Enjoy it," Third said.


"Mmmm," Lilly added. "Yeah. He's going to show me just how glad he is to meet
me. Watch this."


She drew him closer, his feet still off the ground due to her nearly 6-foot
height. Her hand gripped him tightly in its slick embrace, making quick
twitching movements. She put her ruby lips near his ear.


"Come for me, mister," she whispered, and stuck her warm, wet tongue in his ear.

"Oh, God!" Steve groaned as his body went rigid as if from a shock. A thick
white rope of seminal fluid shot from him, arcing through the air for a
considerable distance. The sound of quiet, muted clapping came from the other
two women. When his spasms had passed and he went slack in her grip, Lilly
maneuvered around him, handling the weight of his 205-pound body as if she were
holding a small stuffed teddy bear.


He now found himself dangling off the ground, his weight borne by Lilly's grip
on the outside of his hips. Her hands gripped him tightly, almost painfully, as
if she were using the outer edge of his hip bones as handles. Now behind him,
Lilly continued the introductions. The identical woman with the single ponytail
stepped toward Steve now.


"This," Lilly said, "is Holly. Say hello to the nice man, Holly."


"Hello, Mister Man," Holly moaned, and with a quick ducking motion of her head,
took Steve's semi-flaccid length into her mouth.


Steve gasped at the sudden and delightful sensation. Shocking him, it took only
seconds for him to become fully engorged and rock hard once again. Then, even
more amazingly, Lilly began rocking his hips forward and back, using only the
strength of her arms to hold him in midair and move him toward and away from the
hungry, greedy sucking mouth of her seeming twin.


Holly's ministrations were just as expert as her sister's. Her tongue swirled
along Steve's entire length, the tip of his member squeezed by her powerful
throat. She drew her slick scarlet lips to the head of his length, paused,
titled her head to the side, and muttered softly to him.


"Come for me, mister," she commanded quietly.


Again Steve was seized in the throes of pleasure, his body spasming wildly as he
groaned in surprised delight. Holly drew on his length even harder, greedy and
demanding. When he was finished, she let his already diminishing length slip
from her wet lips and murmured "Pleased to meet you," softly to him.


"And now," Lilly said with a note of finality from behind him. "I want you to
meet Willow. Say hello, Will."


The last remaining sister, the one with the tightly wound bun in her hair,
stepped forward. Her gloved hands rubbed the heaving expanse of her chest, the
huge, firm twin globes perfectly round and firm under her grasp.


She pursed her lips, and allowed a quantity of saliva to drip down into the
valley of her impossibly deep, firm cleavage exposed by the catsuit's plunging
neckline. She rubbed it in and smeared it, shining, with two of her fingers. She
placed her hands on the outside of her impossible large, firm bosom, and smiled
wickedly. Incredibly, the combination of her allure, strength, muscle-packed
appearance, and impossibly sexy display of her assets brought Steve's flagging
part to full attention once more.


"Hello there, big boy," she said out of one side of her lopsided, knowing grin.


Lilly took a step forward then, and pushed out on her fearsome hold on Steve's
hips. The ache that her handhold on his hips was starting to cause was forgotten
as the full length of Steve's throbbing member had nowhere to go but into the
deep, spit-slickened chasm of Willow's warm, firm cleavage.


Forward, back, forward, back, forward, back --- Lilly's delightful and regular
arm pressing drove him up and down in the wonderfully firm valley of Willow's
bosom. Willow closed her eyes and tilted her head back on her thick, muscular
neck, and played with her breasts, kneading them, pushing their considerable
mass this way and that, and then, at last, pushing in on the sides, mashing
their shockingly firm cleavage around Steve's pulsing length. The feeling was
indescribable; Willow's cleavage felt as firm as the grip of her sister's hand.
He stood no chance.


"Come for me, mister," Willow cooed, her eyes nearly lit from inside by her
merriment and power.


Lilly pushed forward and held him out at arm's length, the very tip of Steve's
penis poking out of Willow's cleavage. A line of creamy white fluid erupted from
him and shot skyward over Willow's shoulder as Steve cried aloud in combined
delight, fear, pleasure, and exhaustion. He hung there in Lilly's grip until his
spasm had passed away.


Lilly then tore his shirt and jacket from his body, leaving him completely nude.
She tossed the clothing aside and then let him go, she dumped him
unceremoniously onto the floor. Steve's breath whooshed out as he hit the
smooth, hard granite, and then he drew himself up against the display case once
again, arms tied behind him, legs drawn up trying to hide his tingling wet
nakedness.


"I think he liked meeting us," Holly said.


"Part of him liked it, anyway," Willow said, her fingertips still tracing the
small, thimble-shaped rise of a nipple under the latex of her catsuit, and the
trio giggled girlishly.


*** Continued in our Amy's Conquest (www.amysconquest.com) Exclusive, Members
Only, Text Stories Section OR from our Brand New Amy's Conquest Store
(www.amysconqueststore.com) where ALL of our AC material can now be purchased
individually! ***