The True Nature of Betty McGregor
By Robert Adam Morrison
Betty hides her true nature from her friends and family

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The True Nature of Betty McGregor

	The three-fifteen bell rang through the halls of Northwestern
Secondary School. A sudden rustle of voices overcame the bell. Students
arose from their seats and gathered their books and supplies. The clang
and bang of lockers being openened and closed filled the hallways. The
stampede of students went every which way, moving like a uncontrollable
pool of oil, intermixing within itself.
	Betty McGregor was still sitting at the art desk, applying the
strokes of paint to the paper in front of her. She was using acrylics to
paint the picture of a barbarian wearing nothing but a loincloth and
wielding a large battle axe. She sighed in pleasure as she noted his
humongous pectoral muscles and tree-trunk arms.
	Betty McGregor was a short girl, only five feet tall. She was
nineteen years old, and had grown as much as she would naturally. Betty
had long blonde hair that was straight and came down to her upper back.
Her beautiful blue eyes peered at the painting. Betty wore a simple
blue t-shirt and aqua green shorts.
	'Come on, Betty!' whined a young girl. 'Get with it! We'll be late
for practice.'
	The girl was a black-skinned beauty with dark brown curly hair that
reached to her shoulders. She had auburn brown eyes that hid behind thin-
framed glasses. The girl wore a spice girls t-shirt and a pair of tattered
jeans. She was five feet and six inches tall. Her limbs were long and
slim.
	'Gennifer,' Betty cooly said, 'this kind of art comes before all
other tasks.'
	'Ooh, I see. But, Betty! We've got to rush. You want to be on
the field hockey team again, don't you?'
	'Yeah! I forgot. Let's get going.'
	Betty packed up her stuff into her backpack, and the two 
went to leave. As she stuffed away the painting, Betty said:
	'And I'll see you later.'

	The small orange sphere moved at high velocity towards Betty.
She was caught in slow motion as the orb ripped through the air towards
her. Betty slowly moved her stick up into the air.
	'Betty, get moving!' shouted the coach.

	Betty turned to look towards the coach, and was hit by the ball.
Hitting her in the head, she groaned and fell to the ground.
	The coach walked over to Betty's body. His great round form cast
a shadow over her.
	Coach Hart was a small, squat and round man with the attitude of
a mean nun. He wore with his coach fatigues a single whistle and a hat
that read: Canadian Armed Forces. Coach Hart looked weak, but was
known to reduce the bravest jock football player to a puddle of tears.
His meaness easily surpassed his ugliness. Bottom line: he was an
effective coach.
	Betty groaned and looked up towards the coach. She nursed her
head, where the ball had hit home.
	'McGregor! Concentrate on the ball!'
	'I just was paying attent...'
	'PAY ATTENTION TO ME: IF YOU'RE GOING TO HIT THE BALL, KEEP
AWARE!'
	'But...'
	'THAT'S ENOUGH!' shouted Coach Hart, in a tone that would send
Sgt. Slaughter to his knees. 'YOU'RE OUTTA HERE! YOU AND YOUR WIMP
FRIEND! HIT THE SHOWERS!'
	'Wimp friend?' asked Gennifer to another girl. 'Who do you
think...'
	'YOU, BROCK! GET MOVING!'
	With saddened hearts, Betty and Gennifer headed to the school
from the field.

	After showering, the two felt slightly better from the assault
the coach had given them. They exited the shower room and headed for
the doors of the school. They chatted to each other in the fashion of
teenagers.
	They opened the school doors and exited down the short flight
of stairs. Slinging their packs over their shoulders, they readied
themselves for the trek back to their homes. They continued to talk
about things, classes, assignments that were due, how cute certain
boys were, how others acted like asses, and so on.
	Suddenly, the air was filled with sirens, and the two glanced in
the distance. The flash of police lights came from over the horizon.
From this far, they could only tell that there were about four police
cars and at least one ambulance. They seemed to be readied at one
building.
	Betty turned to Gennifer.
	'Well, Gen,' Betty said, 'it seems like we've got a chance to
finally show the public what we're made of.'
	'What you're made of;' replied Gennifer, 'I'm not made of
much!'
	'In any case,' Betty continued, 'it's time to srut our stuff!'

	The fifth police car pulled up to the outer limits of the parking
lot. There were already four cars there, each with two police officers
taking positions. An ambulance stood near the rear, with two paramedics
ready to spring into action.

	The parking lot they were parked at belonged to the stout, three
story, red-bricked office building. The building was laid out in an
ell-pattern. A sign indicated that the building was the Mutual
Conditional Life Insurance Stratford branch. The life insurance
building was to become very instable.
	The police car stopped behind the others, and a single figure
exited the car. Standing about six feet was the young detective,
Johnathan Wiles. Johnathan had hansome rugged looks, and stood with
some strength and confidence. He wore a fedora, a leather longcoat
and dress shirt and pants.
	He walked up to a senor-looking officer (ranked by the number
of doughnuts he had ate, and the severity of his dirty looks) and
showed his detective's badge.
	'What's the situation?' Johnathan asked the officer.
	'Gang of punks that thought they could make off with some money
from an insurance company.' the officer said. 'Stupid. But dangerous.
They've taken four hostages. This town is going crazy!'
	'Save it for the press.' grunted Johnathan. 'Have they made any
demands?'
	'They want five mil and a helicopter!'
	'Stratford doesn't have that kind of budget even after one year!
The military can hardly rouse a helicopter together!'
	'So what'd ya want to do, detective?'
	'We wait.'
	Suddenly, a shadow came over the detective and the officer. There
was a slight sound of a female scream. The shadow widened, then
narrowed. The scream became louder. Suddenly, two figures dropped in
front of Johnathan, one carrying the other.
	The larger of the two figures was a tall and strong young woman,
wearing a costume of red with gold highlights. The skin tight costume
covered her torso and privates. A red mask with white eyeholes
covered her eyes, protecting her identity. Her long blond hair reached
down to her waist. Red and gold boots protected her feet.
        The costume was skin tight and did little to conceal the fact that
she was well-built. Her thick arms easily carried the other girl. The
biceps and triceps of the arm were well-sculpted. Her legs were smooth
and shaped with generous quads and calves. Her chest was muscled, with
feminine breasts (not over-sized, just at the right porportions). Her
abs were ridged with multiple muscles, the pattern showing through the
costume. Her back was arched in a powerful 'V' that spoke of strength. Her
face was heart-shaped and pretty.
	The smaller of the figures was a black girl with dark brown hair
and a similar costume. She was slim and athletic. She was five feet,
six inches tall. She was nowhere near as muscular as the other girl, but
her arms were toned, and showed signs of development. Her legs had the
classic eye-pleasing shape with some definition. Her stomach was completely
toned, and small bumps appeared. Her face, even behind the mask, was very
beautiful.
        She was the screaming one, and she stopped, finally turning the
scream into a laugh.
	'What the?!' blurted the confused officer.
	'Gentlemen, don't be alarmed,' said the blond heroine,
'everything is under control. My name is Mighty Girl. This is my
companion Fasttrax.'
	'Hiya!' said Fasttrax.
	Johnathan and the officer stood shocked, mouths agape.
	'So, how may I be of assistance?' asked Mighty Girl.
	'Um...' said Johnathan, 'we've got a situation. There's a bunch
of punks taking hostage inside. Are you sure...'
	'Never surer I can handle things.' stated Mighty Girl. 'Come on,
Fasttrax. We've got to clean this place up.'
	'Then let's go!'
	The pair darted over the police cars and ran into the building.

        Fred Robinson was a local hick with a gun. He was well over his
head, and the idea of getting any money was fleeting from him. Fred just
wanted the experience over. What was Mark trying to do? he asked himself.
        The Uzi he carried was rusted over. Fred himself was a plain
looking young man of 25. He had stubble and blond hair. He wore grubby
clothes and a nylon vest. Cigarette butts lied strewn upon the ground
around him. He was standing in the hall of the insurance building,
standing guard near the entrance.
        Why the f*ck am I doing this? he asked himself. I don't know how to
fire this damn thing off! Why did I get drunk last night?
        His thoughts were cut off suddenly as the door adjacent to him
swung open rapidly. Standing in the doorway were two figures: Mighty Girl
and Fasttrax. Fred's mind was stuck in neutral as the two strode forward.
He managed to get his hands in a firing position around the Uzi, but he
was not quick enough to get one burst off. Mighty Girl quickly grabbed the
Uzi, and snatched it from Fred's hands. She took the Uzi with both hands,
and used her mighty arms to crush the weapon into a ball. Her arm muscles
bulged up in the effort, and there was a great creaking noise as the metal
succumbed to Mighty Girl's great strength. Fred could only gape and stare.
        Mighty Girl tossed the useless piece of metal aside. Fasttrax

proceeded to grab Fred. She took him by the shoulders and used her legs
to propell him into the air. She fell back onto her back, and completed
the backroll throw, sending Fred through the open doorway and onto the
parking lot. He landed with a 'wumph,' causing a dust cloud to fly up.
        The two heroines gave each other a 'thumbs up,' and continued down
the hallway.

        The hostages were tied up with extension cords, and muzzled with
masking tape. They sat in a circle in the middle of a conference room. The
conference table had been propped up against the windows of the room. Two
doors exited the room.
        The five gang members hovered over the hostages. Each of the gang
members had a rusted sub-machinegun, one different than the other. The gang
members were all young men in grubby clothes. All of them but one were
caucasian: the fifth gang member was korean.
        The hostages were all businesspeople, two of them men, two of them
women. They wore fine suits and had were well-groomed.
        The korean turned to one of the other gang members.
        'So,' the korean asked, 'what are we going to do now, genius?'
        'Shut up!' said the gang member. 'I've got it all planned out.
We'll make some more threats, and eventually the cops'll give in!'
        'Oh, well thought, Mark! Like that's worked before!'
        'Well, Phil, what's your plan then?'
        'Easy!' said Phil. 'We kill one of the hostages. Simple enough.'
        The hostages' eyes bugged out.
        There was a knock at the door.
        'Frigging hell!' cursed Mark. 'I thought I told the pigs not to
come in! See who it is, Ernest.'
        Ernest, a black-haired youth, walked over to the door of the room.
He slowly opened it, sub-machinegun in hand. Before it was fully opened, the
door suddenly flew open, as a powerful arm pushed it. Ernest stepped back
and fired the trigger on the Heckler & Kock MP5. Bullets flew forwards, and
there was the sound of scattering shots.
        The powerful arms of Mighty Girl reached out and took the H&K from
Ernest's hands. With powerful strides, Mighty Girl charged forward and held
her elbow in front of her, catching Ernest with full force in the chin.
Ernest's head snapped back, and he collapsed to the ground, flying a few
feet backwards.
        Mighty Girl and Fasttrax stepped into the room, taking heroic poses.
The gang members were stunned at the two magnificent figures in front of
them.
        Striking while the iron was hot, the two heroines charged forward.
Fasttrax ran with lightning speed up to Phil. She lept up onto his shoulders,
and forced his head between her calves. She swung down to the ground, taking
Phil's head with her. Still attached, the rest of Phil's body followed.
Fasttrax swilleved around at the last moment, using her weight against Phil's
body. There was a sound of impact as Phil landed fully on the ground. He
slumped, unconscious.
        Mighty Girl swung her fist in an overhead jab at Mark. He dodged
aside, but this put him right in the path of Mighty Girl's left fist. Her
belly punch impacted into his gut, forcing the wind from him. Mark stepped
back, stunned. Not resting for a second, Mighty Girl lept up and executed
a roundhouse kick, catching Mark on the side of his head. Her leg hit his
head, forcing the last bit of consciousness from it. Mark slumped to the
ground.
        Mighty Girl turned around, and looked at the two remaining gang
members. They stood unsteadily. Mighty Girl let a smile loose on her face,
and pulled one of her arms up. She flexed her bicep back and forth, letting
its peak rise and fall. The strong muscle smashed the remaining confidence
from the gangers, and they dropped to the ground, letting go of their
weapons.
        The two heroines turned to each other and smiled.
        'That was awesome!' Fasttrax said.
        'Let's free these people.' said Mighty Girl.

        Johnathan stood in amazement. The two heroines stepped from the
building, carrying the unconscious gangers. The hostages followed. The two
young women had gone in and come out without a scratch.
        Mighty girl plopped the gangers to the ground. A few officers
rushed forward to cuff the prone men. The two other gangers came out of the
building, and gave theirselves up.
        Johnathan stepped towards the two heroines. They stood proudly over
the prone villains.
        'Nice work.' Johnathan said. 'Who are you really?'
        'Hey,' said Fasttrax, 'you know the rules. We can't say.'
        'Hope we can meet again.' said Mighty Girl. 'Next crime.'
        'Hey,' Johnathan said, 'maybe we'll meet on off hours!'
        'Maybe.' Mighty Girl let a slight smile. She nodded to Fasttrax.
        Fasttrax sighed, and let herself be carried by Mighty Girl. Mighty
Girl crouched down, and leaped up, high into the air. She disappeared into
the horizon.
        'Amazing!' mouthed Johnathan.

        'Maybe?' quipped Fasttrax sarcastically. 'That guy wanted you! You
should have taken him up on the unsaid offer!'
        The two heroines were in the basement of a house. The small room
they were in was obviously a laundry room. A washer and a dryer stood in
the dimly lit chamber. A number of drying shirts and pants hung from the
pipes of the ceiling.
        Betty McGregor took off her mask revealing her face fully. She
was Mighty Girl. She was changing in her house with her crime-fighting
partner and friend Gennifer Brock, also known as Fasttrax.
        'I don't know, Gen.' Betty said. 'I mean. He saw me like this. How
would he deal with me if he saw me like...'
        Betty suddenly started to shrink. Her muscles ebbed and shrank.
Within five seconds, she had changed back to her normal state. Her costume
hung comically over her five foot frame.
        '...this.' Betty completed her sentance.
        'Who says you have to go like that?' said Gennifer. 'All you have to
do is buy some clothes suited to your heroic frame and go after him all big
and strong!'
        'Yeah, right.'
        'No! Think about it.'
        Betty did. She always wondered what it would be like to go around in
her heroic form.
        The pair changed into their normal clothes, concealing their costumes
in the special hidden pockets in their backpacks. They left the laundry room
and climbed the stairs to the main floor of Betty's house.
        They entered the kitchen. The well decorated kitchen was full of
food. An island housed a range and table top. Stools stood around the island.
The fridge had numerous magnets stuck on it, holding pieces of paper. A spice
rack held a great number of spices.
        A middle-aged woman in a business suit leant against the island. She
was reading a newspaper. She was attractive, with blond hair and blue eyes.
Her body was slim and well-kept for her age.
        'Hey, mom!' Betty called out.
        'Betty!' the woman said. 'And Gennifer. How was school?'
        'Great!'
        'Fantastic!'
        'Anything happen?'
        The two teens looked at each other with knowing glances.
        'Nothing much.'
        'Coach Hart yelled at us.'
        'You two. I swear!'

TO BE CONTINUED...

A VILLAIN OF YOUR CHOOSING!