Thursday, March 27, 2014


Wanted to say that Next weeks Story is the end of the current arch, in which the plot( such as it is) wraped up, mysteries are solved and book 1 as i call it ends. I plan to take a couple of months off and then go into the kinda of diffrently directed book 2 as Sarahs life changes-well i won't spoil the ending.  I will say the next chapter is a Story with much violence, but no sex. I'll start up agian  probabbly in July or August. Its been a fun process.  Hope people have been liking the story as it devolops, with its twists turns and ocasional appearance by minor celebrities. 

As always thanks to Andrew Hasset for his help and advice editing these.

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Akward Origin Stories to Tell in Bed

"This is always awkward," observed Max as they sat in the bar.

"Yep" agreed Sarah, as she sipped a craft brew.

Max was her friend and coworker on the show as gaffer. And right now he was meeting her...




That was probably the word to describe her. She and Lana had been dating for a couple of months now. They had secret identities of course as superheroes - that was secret - but the dating part in their civilian lives was not - or at least it wasn't now. And nor should it be.

"I never thought you went..." said Max.

"I've done it a couple of times. Never in college, oddly enough...but a couple of times. This is the first time I've really ever been more then that. It''s kind of scary to be honest."

"I bet," said Max.

Sarah sighed. Lana walked in.

Lana was dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt and what looked like running shoes. Her brown hair was in a ponytail that went over her rail thin back. She looked as if you told someone - hey, you have to go to a craft brew pub with friends so wear this outfit. Perhaps even buy this outfit as you have never worn it before. Still, she was smiling. When she walked over she didn't greet Sarah with any physical affection - no kisses, no hugs...but she was there. This was probabbly a wise move. Instead she offered a hand to max.

 "Hey! I'm Lana. You must be Max. What a pleasure it is to meet you."

They shook hands. Max seemed glad to see her.

Between the plump but curvy Sarah and the razor thin Lana you could build perhaps a perfect example of womanhood. However, separately perhaps it was no great loss...they were off the dating market.

Lana Maclaine worked as a freelance web engineer for medium size websites, optimising server loads and the like. She also had an inheritance of some sort that she didn't talk about. Her tastes where decidedly more...upscale...then Sarahs. She had taken her to the opera already, and a bird sanctuary by the sea. She went to art gallery openings and drank wine there. She knew the artists by name, and artists who weren't there by reputation . She had just enough sense of wry humor that one could call her funny. She talked as if she should have an english accent.

Sarah wasn't precisly sure what to think of her. It was fun in a way to date someone who was different than you. The opera had been a blast. Big and loud and full of cool lights and stuff. The art stuff wasn't bad. Lana wasn't gentle precisely, the kind of glower of the  flame never quite left her, nor the urbane stare of the superior. However, it wasn't bad close to you. And sex with a mind reader was like losing your mind. Or maybe she was a much more skilled lesbian then her occasional tickly sessions had been.

However, it was dating. It was dating at the point now that one could introduce her as a girlfriend. However Sarah wasn't precisely sure she ever wanted to move to something more serious with Lana, and was further worried that she could read her mind and know it. Actual lesbianism kind of frightened her. Drunk, making out - was one thing. Sober, making love - was something else. But, you know, like fucking and living with someone you shared maxi pads with...

Sarah had several times met Lana's friends - never this formally, but at the art openings and such - and it was clear of course, what was so obvious now. But she never figured out before sleeping with her. Lana was a Lesbian with a capital L that she never used when talking. She had done this before, even apparently, she confessed, lived with a girl for a year and a half before coming to LA from Connecticut ("Problems that we never quite worked out. I loved her to pieces, and she me, but it never worked out"). That, Sarah discovered, was a very lesbian thing to do. Discussing your ex-girlfriends frankly.

Lana and Max talked. Lana didn't know what a gaffer did, and he informed her. He didn't know what a web engineer did and she informed him. They didn't have a lot in common but seemed to be progressing socially. Which was a fair metaphor for their relationship too.

"Did I tell you, Sarah? I got saved from a jewellery story robbery by the Flame last week."

"No," said Sarah.

Lana's expression didn't change. She was good at keeping a straight face.

"The weird goth chic hero. Yeah, I was going there after work to look for like a necklace for Justine, when a couple of robbers walked in...and then she came in, but she didn't 'come in' exactly...she just kind of..."

"Appeared," said Lana as he struggled to end his sentence.

"Yeah. Thats the word. Ever happened to you?"

"A friend of mine," Lana told him.

"She appeared...and, like, there was this weird sound of laughter in the store...and then it went dark. And all the robbers were on the floor knocked out, in like five seconds flat. It was amazing. And then I saw her for like a second...but she just walked out the door. 'Never said anything to me. 'Never said anything to anyone."

"What a world," observed Lana. "I once saw Knighthawk in the street. But never anything like that."

"I wonder what she's like," mused Sarah.

"Probably just a bitch," Max speculated. "Goth, right? I went to a club...they have whips and chains and stuff like that."

"I've been to a couple of goth clubs," Sarah said. She had the urge to defend her friend. "The whips and chains are mainly for show."

Lana shrugged. There was something ever so slight in her eye that suggested laughter. "That's the public ones. I don't really know, but you hear whispers in the art world about this dark scene of drugs and's not a good scene unless you like it. I think it's mostly consensual as it goes."

"And that's probably where she is now. They say she burned out her own heart to gain her power."

Sarah shook her head. "Oh, come on! She's not that bad. I for one support are superheroic community in all its endeavours."

Lana shrugged. "Well, there's a difference between supporting it and, well, liking it. It would be a bit  hypocritical of me to question the sexual kinks of others."

Max paused.

"Let's leave that part of the conversation there," suggested Lana.


They were in the bathroom 20 minutes latter. Girls, it has been observed, went to the bathroom together. But when they were...

What happened was that Lana was laughing. The kind of laughter that Sarah had rarely seen from her. There had been a polite chuckle, a guffaw, a smile...but this was beyond that.

"Its moments like that makes all the bruises the lack of sleep worthwhile. I do love the  Flame."

Sarah grabbed her from behind and held her for a second. They didn't kiss, didn't do anything porn-worthy, but she hugged her for a second as Sarah nuzzled her head into her much smaller form.

Lana nuzzled her back. It was a slight gesture. Lana wasn't the warmest in the world, and rarely expressed much emotion but she tolerated effortless Sarah. That suggested she liked it, right?

Sarah smiled. She looked at the mirror. You could easily see Sarah on both sides of Lana, and over her. But she was there and she was there.

"You look pretty tonight," Lana said at last, as Sarah broke the spell.

Sarah was wearing a sundress and old Doc Martins. Come to think of it she looked like a much larger and fater version of the Flame.

"Thank you," said Sarah. "You too."

That was a lie...except in the abstract sense that Sarah did think that Lana was pretty. She didn't think she was beautiful - she liked breasts for fun. But she was pretty, especially when she was smiling, as she was now.

"Was all of this worth burning your heart out?"

And Lana let out a mighty laugh.


Sarah had thought the evening with Max would move at some point to a nightclub or a movie or something like that. Instead, after a couple of beers it ended. It wasn't Lana's fault. She hadn't said no to anything. It took it's natural course, which tonight meant they walked out of the bar after about three beers. Max left them. A couple.

And they had the dreaded uncomfortable pause. They enjoyed spending time together, but unstructured things didn't work out well. Usually one person suggested something or another. And the other person agreed - unless they had the excuse of work or the other work. 

Would they do something else? Fundamentally, the idea of a movie or a nightclub was the same. They had very different tastes in just about everything. Lana didn't much go to movies, even the kind of arty stuff that plays in small theatres. They could have gone fighting crime together, but their styles even here were different. Sarah was a punchy bruiser who saved kittens from trees, while Lana stalked the night like a demonic monster.

It could be a delightful comic team-up. In the funny 'ha-ha' sense, not the graphical media. But maybe....

They ended up going to a comic book store down the way that Sarah sometimes went to. Like a lot of existing shops it was incredibly elaborate with huge figurines, paper machine metal walls from a a haunted lab, the kind of things that cost a bit of money. She supposed only by going big could such a werid business as comics not go home.

It was a pleasant-ish space to browse, and was open 'til 10.

They walked around the store. Most comics come pre-bagged to defer reading, but Lana seemed to be enjoying herself in a smilling way.

"Ooh! These must be the horror comics," she said as she picked up an issue of Venom. "I like the tongue thingy."

(((I got most of my ideas about doing this from old-timey radio I used to listen to as a child. It's interesting to see how the other half lives))

That was the weird thing about dating a telepath.

Sarah bought Lana a copy of something with magic in it by Vertigo. Or maybe it was Stranger in a Strange Land she forgot.

That killed about half an hour.


45 minute later they where naked in bed and Sarah was filling Lana's snatch with the head of a strap-on penis.

"Yeah, God! Please don't stop!"

Yet the strange thing was it was hard to say who said that.

Lana's body was moving with the skill of a dancer agianst her as she plowed into her with her powerful build.

The dildos was Lana's. Lana had a lot of stuff like that, organized in a drawer. Dildos, lubes, something that looked very frightening, and more things that looked even more frightening.

"Yes! Yes!" Lana wrapped her legs around Sarah's butt as she leaned her head down to suckle her tit. Her body kept moving at incredible speed.

It was one of the things about Sarah. She was blessed with strength, yes...but also stamina. For all practical purposes she never got tired - she could run and jump for hours on end..and well (fuck..fuck god yes fuck!!!). Her lovers, of course, were not so blessed, which she didn't mind much. It didn't take much for her to work up a respectable orgasm.

But, well...Lana. The prim and proper software engineer, yes, turned out to be a bit of a demon in the sack (she also performed as a demonic superheo). She didn't seem to possess super stamina normally - not that she had observed - but in bed...they could make love for hours, with each coming dozens of times. She would just keep moving, just keep urging her on to no end. Her voice, her touch, her mind.

((I want you to fuck me...fuck me))

Sarah, before a week ago, had never used a strap-on - never used a dildo with a lady - but found she enjoyed it immensely. She was, of course, a powerful girl. But in bed..there were limits to this. She couldn't **** kegel - IM UNSURE ABOUT THIS ONE...**** in bed, or push. but now she could use her power to thrust into Lana's sweet pussy. She couldn't use all of her strength and speed, but she was moving with the strength, speed, and power of a dozen or so men. And lana was taking it without any discomfort...on the contrary: she was fucking her back.

((God! You're incredible))

Sarah appreciated the compliment.

She lifted Lana's butt off the bed, grabbing and bending the small lady into a contortion. She began to thurst ino her faster and faster - faster then the eye could quite see - filling her up with the 14 inch phallus, working her cunt, each time pulling out to an inch them ramming it in with enough power to break wood.


Then her voice turned to odd grunts.

Lana's eyes rolled back into the top of her head as she came bellow her. She could feel it, see it, see something in her. It made Sarah tense down on the phallus in her, as she felt her own orgasm well up. Her eyes teared up briefly as she slouched a bit, dropping her lover. she looked into her eyes, instead of catching her breath she pulled her down and kissed her.

"Let me reverse cowgirl you a bit," suggested Lana. "While you have it on."

And then she moved without stopping to get on top of her.


This went on until about midnight, before Sarah fell on the side of her and breathed hard. Even she had her limits. Lana next to her, didn't.

It would be hard to give this up. Real hard.

Extra hard.

She had never made love with a superpowered man - someone with increased strength like herself. She thought it would have been like this - perhaps more intense - but also shorter. she liked men, really...lots. But, well...they had to cum sometime. Both of them seemed liked they could keep this up for days before deydration set in. Well, that was an exaggeration but not much of one.

"Penny for your thoughts, Dear?" Lana inquired, smiling and smiling.

"Can't you just read them?" said Sarah.

"I make it a point not to do that with non-criminals. It gets complicated, and hard to sort out. I mean it happens but..I want to respect your privacy, Dear."

'Dear'. It was an affectionate term. Granted, a very old and outdated one, but affectionate nonetheless. It was only in sex, really, that Lana displayed much more then friendly versions of this or the physical or personal variety. Did she feel it? Sarah suspected, but maybe it was like a tiger - you only see it reflected back in her eyes.

"I'm thinking about how come you only call me Dear in bed."

Ouch. That was so not the question to ask right now.

Really...that was terrible.

"It will come in time, I suppose, workup to it. Perhaps I feel a little awkward about it. Of course, in bed perhaps I have a bit less control of things, and they slip out. Hope they don't embarrass"

"No, Dear," Sarah said. That was a joke. She wondered if someday it wouldn't be. That was kind of scary. She changed the subject. "So tell me the super-secret origins of the Flame."

Lana shrugged. "Not much of a story really. Born with amazing powers; my parents were murdered; vowed revenge; brought him to justice. Just the usual boring stuff like that...not too interesting."

"Make it longer."

"Do you really want me to bore you with such banalities?"

Sarah nodded.

"Not much of a storyteller, I'm afraid. I was born with these gifts. I could read people's mind, start fires, others things. I decided to keep them secret from everyone except my brother lest I be considered a freak. When I was 10 my parents were murdered at our home in Connecticut. Ghastly affair. I'm not sure my powers could have stopped it, but I thought so then...which was the important thing. So I well...vowed to bring the killers to justice. I studied martial arts, criminology, the usual stuff a young heroine does. It wasn't hard, really. I wonder what the fuss was. I learned to master my mind. By the time I graduated Yale, I was ready to find the killer."

"And did you?"

"Yes," said Lana. "A bit of an anti-climax that, actually. It turned out it was one of my father's business partners trying to hide the fact that he was embezzling money. Took me less then a week, really. After all that time. But he's in jail now, and I decided, well, to keep on at it. And thus we have the Eternal Flame."

She paused." and Mazing Girl?"

Sarah shrugged. She thought her origin story was interesting, but wasn't that intresting compared to what she'd just heard.  "Well, I was born in Tallahassee, Florida. My parents are still alive, and still love me. I learned very young I was stronger and more athletic then most kids, but it bored me so I read comic books and stuff. I guess about puberty I blossomed and my powers really blossomed with it."

She tweaked her boobs, symbolically.

"I wanted to help people, be a hero. So I made a costume and became The Black Dog."

"The Black Dog?"

"I was 13, and thought it was cool that way. There's a southern myth about a Black Dog that haunts the roadway. But I'm also really white, which made doing it in the south not the greatest idea. But I did that for a couple of years, on but mainly off as my parents thought I should wait until I grew up. I did my best. Was a theatre  tech geek in high school, boyfriends and such."

"A normal childhood," interrupted Lana. "Did you go to Disneyworld at all?"

Sarah shrugged. "I came out here to Cal Arts, got a degree in stagecraft and moved from Valencia to LA. I played around a bit with superheroics in college - I had more free time. And that's when I really became 'Mazing Girl. A friend made the costume, which I intended to be a post-modern take on the traditional superhero persona, but that kind of faded after awhile. Now I'm just a good old fashioned flying brick - well, jumping brick...but it's the same"

"It's a better story than mine," said Lana.

"Your's had villains and revenge."

"I wish it didn't. I wish it was happy. Just to live, to be motivated by virtue and the desire to help others. I can see that sometimes. Sometimes I just see a sad little girl crying."

She shook her head.

"Did I mention that I spent six months studying in a hidden monastery in Tibet? Well...actually Bhutan."


The next day Sarah was at work.  Every couple of weeks they filmed downtown. This time near a shopping alley. In the afternoon, in a non-Chinese shop in Chinatown. There weren't many props other then usual rubber guns to worry about that day. She was reading the script for the final episode of the season, and quite possibly the show (ratings weren't great, but cable ratings were really confusing) There was a Russian nuclear bomb (maybe she could do something fun with a cyclic countdown. That could give the scene a little comic fun).

When Max came over. There wasn't a lot of lighting to gaff either today so he came over during a shoot to talk to her a bit.

"Lana seemed like a nice girl last night. You two have fun after I went?"

Sarah smiled. "In incredible amounts...the details of which whould blow your mind."

Max laughed. "you're a cute couple in a non-porn way."

Sarah smiled.

"You two getting serious?"

Sarah paused.

Damn it.

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

A Man in Ten

There were three stages to the supervillain game, really.

1. The stage where you worked to make your evil plan happen.

2. The execution.

3. Aftermath.

Deca’s modus operandi, as probably one of the most feared and powerful supervillains in the world, seemed to be destroy a massive areas, cause chaos and havoc. However, he did so fairly infrequently. Mainly because he was, if anything, an expert planner and worker who was very dedicated to his craft. His meaningless rounds of murder and destruction were very hard to put together. His next plan had taken him 8 months, really, to put together. Putting in mostly 20 hour days. There were still plenty of people in America who would be very impressed with his work ethic.

Deca drove a truck going up to a security gate. His headquarters were in a desert in one of the surprisingly empty quarters of Orange county. He drove forward it and the door opened allowing him to enter. He proceeded to a building in what looked to be a disused electronics office.

He was nervous. In movies or TV, when a villain hatches an evil scheme the transition between going from the working to the execution was dangerous.  That’s always when James Bond came in to stop them from using the Heiliocent Device. Deca wasn't a stupid man, and he knew the world would try to stop him. He didn't super begrudge the world for it either - but he was so very close...

But wel llife . Richard Maclaine was a former Stock Trader, with incredible Telepathic power. He went to UCLA, where he learned about money and how people think-well litterally he was a telepath that was the main trick. He could read minds there passions and what they planned to do with companies and stocks.

And as he learned was often wrong about it. That was the big lesion. He went out to New York for a week to listen to the minds of the stock exchanges and private clubs- to read in some cases fortune 500 companies ceos minds---and even with perfect knowledge of the world fucked it up a lot in his first six months. He lost money when a big deal he tried to short based on a lower earnines report on a Tech Company ended up overall raising the value of the stock.

It was a humbling experience-but by and by over the next view years he learned to do more-to take the unexpected to balance desires and fears, hopes and dreams-and take all of them.

Somehow it had lead him here as he entered the main floor

Deca watched the group toil.

Robots; all of them robots.

It wasn't that he didn't trust people - that was the wrong word. His superpower was fundamentally super-honesty. He knew what evil lurked in the hearts of men, and he trusted that. No. He mainly used machines because of...well philosophy may be one word, credo may be better.

If he made something, he did it. He was responsible for it. And he wanted to be responsible to have stake in his action. A general of men stood on the backs of his men - Alexander was just a little Greek guy who took credit - but he...well, his robot minions were an extension of him.

It was arguably the ultimate extension of a Rand philosophy, complete with a fair amount of racism against Hispanics.

Of course there where people - he just didn't surface them - tons of workers who made the first robots, plenty of people who did the actual work. And Of course his money had come from stealing information and a little bit of other stuff from people who had worked for them, or at least invested them wisely. Or poorly on gimmicks. He was at heart a simple thief.  Like the government, except unlike the government he didn't give people roads or Columbus Day.

And besides, taking apart Rand’s philosophy was pretty tiresome.

He shrugged. was life. And in the small corner of his mind that would still register human emotion he liked Columbus Day. He didn't have a good reason for it, as he thought Columbus was a dirty Italian.

His robots were neither dirty nor Italian.

And he actually wasn't really an objectivist or anything, he was far crazier then that. Which said something.

He shook his head and went back to his work: programming an override to Airspace control protocols. It was hacking, but well...that was another thing that took of planning to do properly. And also involved both stealing information from air traffic controllers heads, and paying a couple of them off. Ahh, well...

Deca’s eyes glazed over a bit. At some point in his life he had decided to become a machine-based supervillain - which meant he had to learn a lot about machines, and how to program them. It could be interesting actually. He did have some genuine interest in it. But it could be very tedious, looking at numbers on a screen. It had very little do with destroying a city or to draw out his foe, and watching the life be sucked out of her. Well, abstractly it did, yes, have something to with that, but not really.

His first battle with mazing girl was really his second major event. his first major battle  had built his first metal suit and attacked fairly randomly he would admit a Shopping center in Artesia(why artesia he didn't have a good anwser). It had went better then he expected. Police showed up if not swat and he managed to defeat about five cop cars-killing about 26 or so in the process. He had killed before, but never on scale. The metal suit that he had spent about 9 months devoloping work liked a glove- better when the bullets bounced-well..

The real fun part he remembered was destroying the parking metters next to the place- it was fun when he ripped them out and smashed them good in a nice long row. it appealed to his ocd side.

his next attack six days latter when he attempted to destroy a school-well thats when he met her. Thats when he was forced to take a boy hostage to escape, and thats when she managed to save the boy he took hostage, even if he got away. failure.

Decas name came from the fact that his suit was as powerful as 10 men. Well there was a design flaw in there guess what?

Two days letter the FBI peirced together the clues-and sennsibly brought her in as opposed to the army. he had repaired his suit increased its strength as best as he could but she beat him. it was in a small park outside of his home. she jumped in through the trees, which he didn't expect. He punched her a couple of times-and this time, this time he managed to knock her back .Set his auto cannons, and for a second-just 5 seconds really he though he beat. he though the muzzle flash of the guns and the bullets was really going to do her in-

But then she got up. shaken yes but she got up. Yes mazing girl was to powerful for him, she could walk through the hail of bullets and grab him and rip his arm off until he was nude- even the  gortex base layer she ripped off and left him naked and humilated defeated  as she looked down at him, so big so supperiror so......

When a red alert went off on his desk.

And something popped up on his screen. It was a security monitor showing a giant bull-like creature with a green mask and an odd outfit. He was standing on top of his building, little lights coming out of his arm cannons.

Blizzard. The champion of Orange County. The hero inspired by World of Warcraft.



Blizzard looked around, uncharacteristically cautious. There had been something about this place that didn't quite feel right. A check of records suggested that this old building hadn't been used in months - but it was unusually clean.

Then he heard a noise.

"HI," said a voice.

Blizzard turned his head and body to see a gigantic mechanical man 7 and a half feet tall and covered in horrible plating that formed circles around his body in silver. A black cape, an eyeless helmet. He had never met him, never seen him, but he knew who it was. Deca. Standing 20 feet away.

It meant ten Blizzard thought. It was funny how thought processes went


Blizzard considered. He knew he couldn't be cautious. He knew he couldn't be scared. But fear filled a small part of his heart.

Then he screamed.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" he screamed, running towards Deca. He pulled from his back a giant AX. He pressed a button to electrify it to its highest level.

"Electrical attack!"

It hit Deca on the shoulder.

And did nothing at all.

Deca swatted him away, knocking him across the roof.


Blizzard pulled up his gun. Out of which came a giant bullet of liquid nitrogen. He hoped the aiming computer was really good.

It hit Deca in the face.


Blizzard started to run, both arms stretched toward his target shooting bullet after bullet. Some hit. Some didn't. But Deca was pelted.

And started to walk forward.


Blizzard got up, his legs hurt a lot from the throw, and just punched Deca’s chest as he came at him. Blizzard realized that was a mistake. He had broken his hand. It didn't hurt too much. Yet. Shock really, but...


Deca punched blizzard in the face...and the green mask cracked and fell to the ground. As did Blizzard, now a pitiful heap. Deca looked at his opponents face. My god...


"Do what you will," said Mr. Koteck.

Deca grabbed him in his hands, holding him like a piece of limp cheese, as his own mask pulled down to revel his real face.

He looked at the poor mass in front of him.

"Have you told anyone where you are?"

"Plenty," bluffed Blizzard.

"No. You’re lying. I can read your mind. Going out on a lie. That’s a shitty thing," said Deca.

Then he ripped off Blizzards head with a single movement of his arm. 

Deca sighed.

Murder was something he generally enjoyed. In the moment.

Dead bodies were tricky - and by god he couldn't quite find Blizzard’s head.

The mind-read suggested that Blizzard didn't have any particular steps in place if he disappeared, but a man like him was...well, he was the head of one of the top 100 American companies...he probably couldn't stay missing for long.

He could hide the body somewhere – but, head. And people expect that.

He sighed. He liked the pleasure of telling the world what stuff he did - like killing one of the two major heroes in the county...but if put his body out at the front gate people would start snooping - well pretty much anywhere - people would start snooping. This was going to be a hassle, even if he just hid it.

And if he did that, no one would find out that the orc clad superhero of cold justice was really a pudgy business executive in his mid 50s, who had once been in the Brad Pitt movie "Moneyball" as the nebish team owner. And he’d been good in it to.

It was kind of funny really, and Deca wanted to share the joke with the world.

But no head...


Deca built a metal box. A casket of sorts really, though no real funeral was held. He hid into his new...device.

He didn't expect the device to survive his big attack. But that’s okay. Only robots or dead bodies would be there, and there would be many more dead bodies.

However with luck they would find Blizzard...and know.

Deca liked the idea of it.

And he was extra pleased when a small robot came in holding the head.


He patted the little thing, though it was just a machine.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Conventional Bueaty Standards

One day after waking up from a night of anxious dreams, Sarah awoke to find she had abs.  Not the kind of flat tummy that women suggest say "hey: abs!" - but the kind of highly indented, very deep, actual muscle in her abdominal wall. The kind of muscles that appeared after 1000s of hours in a gym, and on a woman suggested maybe she had overdone it. There wasn't actually anything flat about it. They kind of bubbled up from her, well, like bubbles.

Sarah found this surprising.

The night before she recalled her stomach looked fairly normal for her - a kind of slight pudge that maybe was looking a tad less pudgy then general. Sarahs weight, in general, tended to fluctuate a lot - she gained and lost the same 15 pounds once or twice a year.

The night before she had helped out at a charity car-toss event. Which was a lot like it sounds. They had some old cars, and she spent the evening tossing them in the desert to see how far she could throw them (about 3 miles, as it turned out). Then there was an actual bank, robbery which was something she didn't deal with all that much in the overall scheme of things. It wasn't like a superhero movie. It was at night, no one had guns, and Sarah was no master detective. But it was pretty clear that the security guard was in on it - but somehow a silent alarm was tripped. The police called her when she was finishing up the tossing thing, and so Sarah got there in time to see the robbers leaving, which lead to a high speed chase over three three freeways, and an overpass.

Actually, it had been a taxing night. Maybe she had worked out enough to loose the pudge. It was weird for her. She knew abstractly tossing a single car burned more callories then she had pounds of fat on her - but, She wasn't going to deal with how her powers in no way made sense. Someone had written a physics paper about her when she was still in college (not her college - she went to art school - but a college) which posited that she had some kind of acess to some kind of energy source...and well, it happened.

Sarah sighed. She had the incredible urge to wear a half shirt. Except she didn't own a half shirt.

She ran a comb through her hair and looked in the mirror. She was in her own bed, something that... She had a bad case of bed head, and was in her slightly scuzzy bathroom. Even despite the bed head she wanted to show it off to someone, to say 'hey!'

Sarah got out her phone. She went to the bathroom mirror to take a selfie of her stomach to send to her friend - and maybe post on her Facebook page - then she realised she wasn't 17 and decided agianst it.

Instead she went to the kitchen.

What should she have for breakfast?

She looked down. She suspected with the way she ate, that her abs would disappear in maybe a month - if her metabilism went back to normal.

She was considering one of those microwave egg sandwich things, then maybe a donut at work...but really...


She had lunch with Lana...her girlfriend. This was a set day, and it wasn't that tricky. Sarah lifted up her shirt.

"Impressive," observed Lana.

"You like?" Sarah inquired. It was a concept that woman looked good, that they took cared of their body for the men in their life. Lana, the very small petite dress-wearing super, aka the Flame, was not a man. But she was in her life.

(Though she was, as usual, dressed kind of butch: a pair of slacks and a dress shirt)

But the point...was there wasn't. She shouldn't look special for her...ahh well, fuck it.

"Theres a lot of muscle on me" said Sarah. "People don't realize it. Quads, pecs all of that stuff. I'm a very big powerful woman. It's the biceps you most notice's just...well, a lot of it is covered in flub."

Lana nodded. "I've read up on nutrition - most bodybuilders get really muscular and kind of fat - then before the competition loose the fat in a crash diet. It's silly. "

"So....let say I want to keep it...

"Don't eat fatty food; get lots of exercise."

"I get plenty of exercise. I mean, like 300 miles last night. I lifted lots of cars...I..."

"Just observing."

Sarah left an open question. Would Lana still love her if she was fat.

That was a silly question, as obviously she didn't love her.


But Sarah did eat a salad that day for lunch. For dinner too.


That night she watched Lana while she slept. She had abs in the way it's sometimes defined - she had a very flat stomach that, if she tensed or sat up, moved in a way that suggested maybe there was a muscle somewhere in there - but well not really. A kind of blank space between her non existent breasts and her hairy bush.

She stroked it a second, and her little belly button. It was cute. She was cute. Sarah knew in a 1000 years she could never look like her.

Lana was closer to the ideal of human bueaty, and if Lana went to say a plastic surgeon probably could get her there - but Lana never would. Sarah never would anyway, way a damn surgeon could cut her open. They would have to use fucking power tools. But in a way she was closer, much closer, than before. If the diet thing worked again the rest of her pouchy area whould go. Making her closer to, say, wonder woman.

So Sarah was left to ponder.


And for lunch and dinner the next day she had salad.


The second night she went patroling through the city, and saw something.

She landed in front of a house. Now, the image you might think of - a house is something surbiban and pleasent and green - and green it was. But the house was a bit old and run down. It was in Inglewood, a suburb of LA that, well...was "urban" in the same way Aresenio Hall was "urban".

But in front of it was a little girl. 'Mazing Girl adjusted her spot and landed in front of her.

"Help help!" said the girl. "My cat is in the tree!"

That is a litteral quote there. Six years olds can be remarkably direct.

"What happened?" 'Mazing Girl asked. She liked kids about this age. They were good at taking a grown woman in cape, who could kinda fly, at face value.

"Well, I opened the door and I'm not supposed to let the cat out, but I did, and he climbed up, way up the tree."

'Mazing Girl nodded. There was a tree. And there was, about 30 feet up, a cat. A tabby cat. Not a kitten, but a cat.

"I'll help."

"He's scared and he'll bite, but I don't want him to stay up all night!"

"I'll help."

'Mazing girl leaned in, and landed lightly. Trees were tricky. Cats where tricky. She had a hard time gauging weight, but the branch seemed sturdy enough. The cat looked at her - but it couldn't move any further up the big linden tree.

'Mazing Girl looked at it. The cat looked at her. They were going to do this.

It hissed.

Still, 'Mazing Girl thought using her powers of looking at things: We are going to do this.


Still doing this.

'Mazing Girl leaned in, and with two hands and steady motion grabbed for the cat, got bit on the arm to absolutely no effect, and held it.

She jumped down.

"Here you go. Hold on to it"

"Thanks 'Mazing Girl. When I grow up I want to look just like you!"

'Mazing Girl paused.

"I get that a lot. Just try to be nice...and help people...and you can. Wait a second...did you say look like me?"

"Sure. Your so beautiful and thin...and white."

"Wait a second," said 'Mazing Girl "No. That is not okay. Not at all okay. You are bueatiful just the way you are. You can't get any whiter, but you will always be beautiful. Black and beautiful."


"Listen to me, it's very important. That is in no way okay. "

"Then thin then."

"THAT is still not okay. You should be happy with your body image. There are whole books and shows and magazines that are going to want to change what you look like, make you feel like something else, and dumb and ugly. I have been fat my entire life, and you know what? I am healthy and *extremely* strong. It doesn't make me any less displined or special. I have saved the world, and I'm okay - and you will too in your own way."

"Okay then," said the little girl. "It's my bedtime."

"Remember what I said!" 'Mazing Girl insisted. "It's you I like. Every part of you. Your skin, your eyes, your feelings. Whether old or new. The way down deep inside you. Not the things that hide you, not your toys - there just beside you. I hope that you'll remember. Even when you're feeling blue That it's you I like, It's you yourself, It's you, it's you I like..."

The girl walked away.

'Mazing Girl sighed.

And that night Sarah went to Randy's Donuts.

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Uncorn Sparkles

Mazing Girl could do some spectacular things - toss ships around a harbor, travel across the city in a blink, fight a hundred people in a minute (and win).

But there was plenty she could do, but didn't. Steal the US mint and give to poor people; Build peoples skyscrapers in days(she assumed); or sometimes...sometimes get cats from trees. There really wasn't much of a point in that last one, but she could do it - by the standard, you know, of just picking up the tree and tossing it into the stratesphere. That would get rid of the cat's trouble pretty quick.

But she never did stuff like that. That wouldn't be right.

This was different.

Sarah was sitting at a Warhammer 40k painting party - which was something that totally happened, and i am not just making up - when a guy across from her, Eric Shandler, a man she kind of knew and kind of liked as a friend - yes, yes he was a friend casually mentioned something.

"I have a fan script for the seventh District. I was wondering if you could pass it along to the producers."

This amazed 'Mazing Girl. Someone cared enough about Seventh District to make a fan script.

To her, it was that weird amazement. Yes her parents watched the show, some people she knew because who she was, but when she met people who actually watched the show...that kind of threw her at points.


"Because I think its got potential."

She looked at Eric. He was a nice enough guy. Mid 40's, the kind of nerd who maybe at one point had been attractive. He worked in healthcare management.

"Well, I can show it...maybe read it. But unless your part of the writers guild..."

"I am!" said Eric. "About 20 years ago one of my novels got optioned for a movie. They made me join because I wrote a draft. It never went anywhere. Thank you 20th Century Fox...but yeah, I am a member. But I don't have an agent."

Wow. He wrote a novel?


This was not something she normally did, despite what you may think.

Fighting someone in the air.

But here she blows with someone in the middle of the sky.

Glider lived in town, but she never actually fought him - they never had classic two heros meet and fight before becoming allies. Which was good, as no one should fight him. He was a city treasure.


She in general to avoid fighting other superheros. Unless it was traiing. Or they were really jerky. And she would never do it in the air. That was gauche. So she really hoped the guy who was now 5000 feet up, throwing a ball of energy (fire/sonic, some combination) at her, was not a superhero. For his sake.

And hers.

Because when it connected with her lower leg causing her to fling around a bit in the air shaking, it hurt quite a bit.

Eric, she discovered checking online databases, wrote several novels. There was a genre popular in the 90s: Cyberpunk! But with elves. She sorta knew there was something called Shadowrun, and that the premise of it was cyberpunk with elves. This was not that. From what she could see from online descriptions, it was in fact a fairly different stories - the one that aparently had been optioned involved elves trying to build an elvish kingdom in the middle of america in the 21st century. He had written five of them.

15 years ago.

That must have been hard.

She ordered one of them through Amazon, and hoped that in some small way that the residuals for that would help. It was the weird thing about books. We think of them as these deep eternal stories of life, trapped on the page forever. But like all things most flitter on the page and disappear in the ether like some vaguely erotic fictional fantasy, figure books where not like the elves of Tolkien. They were not immortal. Also, books did not have pointy ears.

But today she had his fan script. She had agreed to read it and give it to the producer, if she felt it was good. She liked Eric, simultaneously too much, and yet not enough to pass on crap, so reading it was a necessary step.

And she entered in the world of Seventh District.
It was a world, weirdly enough, she was seldom in. She read all the scripts of course - and had been on the set when they filmed it all. But when she read a script she read it in terms of props. Plots were largely something she ignored. To actually think about the world where two Detectives in an unnamed American city investigated crimes while bickering with each other, was to enter a strange and different - a world she was always in, but never quite all the way. She remembered the star of the show telling her that the reason he took the roll was that in most cop shows the two partners pretend not to like each other, but secretly do. He took it becuse the two cops genuinely hated each other. (also he had just had a kid, and could use income)
This episode got that idea - as most of the plot revolved around the two detectives working at cross purposes through a murder. When the chief calls one of the detectives out at the third act break, it felt less like a normal cop show and more like "wow this cop is legitmeatly hurting the case for personal reasons, and in a normal envorment he whould maybe get fired." She liked that. Reading it, actually yes, this was goof. She didn't really watch cop shows, or even really like them, (which may have tainted her opinion of all of this for the least couple of years) but yeah, if this was on she would have been glad she sat through it.
She could bring this to a producers attention.
But it filled her with...fear was the wrong word, as she wasn't ever really scared. But she didn't want to. There were writing room politics involved somewhere, she heard in whispers, and she didn't want to get involved in that. The head writer, Carlos, was an asshole. She doubted he cared enough to get to mad or had the pull to fire her - unless he really got mad. But that was unlikely. And yet was unpleasantness. Not fear.
'Mazing Girl hit a rock. It was hard. Usually when you see super fights in comics the mighty boulder would smash from the forces that were placed agianst it. This one, on the edge of the San Gabriel Mountains over Pasadena just stood there. It would be just fine. Sarah made a real sickening thud as she hit, landing with an out of control smash, bouncing once then falling, maybe 40 feet down, then rolling 20 more.
It was the bad thing about not being able to actually fly. She didn't have a lot of control in the air, or in this case, ground control. Once she hit something, she was kind of at the mercy of gravity and inertia until it all went away.
She closed her eyes for a second and thought about what she had done.
She didn't, however, have any real clever insights.
She felt punched. Her left foot...hurt. She grabbed it. It hurt, in a non-specific way. Her costume looked very dirty and tangled, as did she. The rest of her body could use a bath for the warming ache curing qualities.
But she got up.
Only to see her foe land.
And, for the first time, Sarah got a look at...her.
It was a girl.
And by a girl, she meant a girl. 14-ish, 5'4 feet tall. Yet as she looked at her she compared her to her 'Friend' and fellow superhero, the Flame, and this girl was already a tad more devoloped. Yeah actually about 16. an akward 16. She was wearing a costume that one could only describe as Anime-influenced. Lots of strong colors, and lines that emphasised her big hair, hair that was a color that may not actually exist in nature. She looked kind of silly, but the kind of silly that in real life flying in the hills of southern california you could kind of respect.
"'Amazing Girl!"
She was liking her already.
Sarah talked on the phone. "So why Seventh district? "
"I like to write," said Eric. "I was a big fan of Firefly and I wanted to watch him agian. After a couple of seasons it started to grow on me. It's not great television, but there's something about it."
"It's kind of generic" Sarah noted.
"I like the props," said Eric. "It's not gritty, persay. The show isn't gritty or all that realistic. But there's a sense that realism and grittiness could break out any minute. The props work for that even when they're like in ren fair land. That's maybe, I guess the lighting, but it's there."
Sarah felt a bit embarassed. She had gotten praise for her stuff before - the first season when there was little bit of critical buzz for the show (the Onion Avclub listed the show as "promising" in an article) but when it did it made her feel a tad of almost shame. The show regularly got about 1.5 million viewers these days. Someone must see the props. This was buttering her up, but...
"I could give you the email of an agent if you just want to work in television."
"I never worked in TV" said Eric. "I Had several meetings at Fox, got day-passes, they even valeted my car. I liked it, but I know how that goes. I have no illusions. But it''s just that you want to see something on the screen. You want to feel that magic. I think can write pretty well. There was, for a bit, a publisher who thought the same. Now...I just want to feel that agian. Even if it is a basic cable show. I want to feel that magic. It's small and pathetic, but..."
Sarah nodded.
The phone conversation pettered out. She needed time to think. She put on her supersuit and went on patrol, and got away from the small problems of her life and went to the big world of the city. It had a way of making her troubles seem a million miles away, as if the little dramas of Sarah Jennings were an insignificant bug.
Then someone shot what felt like a laser at her head.
"'Amazing Girl! I will defeat you and take your place as the greatest hero in the land!" Sarah's new nemesis declared, standing on the side of the mountain.
"Why?" Sarah asked.
"Because I, Fantasy Star, deserve your place!"
Sarah shook her head.

Wait a second...Fantasy Star...that was a video game right? No it was spelled differently. Wait, how would she know it was spelled differently? In any case, that wasn't a good argument.
"Your just a kid!" Sarah pointed out.
"Okay, you can fly. You can shoot those energy bolts. Do it again."
A mighty energy bolt flew out of Fantasy Stars hand - it looked really like something from a video game. Not 'Phantasy Star', more like Street-fighter - but the point stood.
And when it hit Sarah a second latter - absolutely nothing happened. She was ready for it, and while she did feel it, she had enough control not to express it. She doubted, doing an internal judgement, it could actually kill anyone. It felt a bit like a shock of electricity.
"Okay." said Sarah.
"What?" Fantasy was surprised.
"I remember what it was like to be a kid with superpowers. was just mazing. The freedom! Do the kids pick on you at school?"
"That's patronizing!" Fantasy observed.
"Okay, you have a point. But the real point is, being a superhero is all about the responsibilty. With great powers come great responsibility - and I will admit my ankle's kind of hurting, so I don't have the energy to come up with a wittier, more original way of saying that."
Fantasy sighed. "I know."
"I have a very boring job," 'Mazing Girl told her. "For every minute we do this, there's probably...200 hours maybe of nothing. It's a lot patrolling on cold nights. This isn't about the glory, the shinny awards. It's about wanting to help people."
Fantasy nodded.
"Can I just try punching you?"
'Mazing Girl sighed. "Like a free shot?"
"Just to see if this works at all. No backies."
'Mazing Girl stood her ground. Fantasy Star walked over and hit her chin.
'Mazing Girl turned her cheek.
Then Fantasy hit agian.

And the cheek turned the other way.
"I said one," said 'Mazing Girl.
The punch was pretty strong maybe three times a normal adult's. Hard to say. Fantasy Star could be something. And while she had done enough to go to jail, 'Mazing Girl felt that might be a bad idea. It was one of the tricks about the trade you don't get always. Yes, she could take her to jail, and they would spend millions trying to lock her up - only to legally have to release her when she turned 18. And then she would probably turn from on-the-fence about things to hardened super criminal.
But at the same time, she was clearly a jerk.
It was one of the tricks of power. 'Mazing girl was, in someways, Superman (except her penis was very small and was in fact a clitoris. Unlike Brandon Routh's. That man had a snouzer on him. Which is one of the reasons she was a fan of Superman Returns. That and the airplane scene. That was cool. And the scene with the weird thug at the end. Yeah, mini-kid superman was kind of silly, but Kevin Spacey was a memorable Luthor. Unlike Kal Penn, who was in that movie for some reason). Okay the point of it was that 'Mazing Girl was in someways Superman - but the power of superman to be a functional adult, not obsessed with trivia and penis size, was sometimes lost to her. But she had to do it, even if she didn't want to.
"I want you to go to school, for at least two more years. Go to Red Cross, learn first aid. Go to karate lessons, learn that. I did. It pays for itself.," advised 'Mazing Girl.
"Or what?" Fantasy Star demanded "Take me to Juvie?"
"Don't use the word: juvie," said 'Mazing Girl. "You say it stupid. And another thing: Make a friend. A little cripple friend. Learn some humility, for fuck sake."
Fantasy Star sighed.
"Was that 'I am an asshole teenager who thinks I'm a crappy adult', or an 'I am an asshole teenager who knows I'm right?" asked 'Mazing Girl.
Wow, did she just say fuck a second ago? 'Mazing Girl generally made it a point not to do that. Ah well. It was moments like this that made her realise: She was the same person. 'Mazing Girl really was a kind of lacsidical nerd, with a steady job...who was rather cowardly, wasn't she? She didn't want to make waves. No one would think Sarah would jump up into the sky. Maybe spend some money on a poster or make a cool prop for fun. But really stick her neck out? Even just a little bit to forward an email? That wasn't Sarah.
And whoever Fantasy Star was, or is, she seemed that way. Even as she shook her head, there was energy.
Sarah slapped her.
"What?" said Fantasy Star.

"You have a passion about you. You feel. You care. You want. That is power. That is strength. My shit, that's just weird super-genetics. You got that too, but that first stuff: Use that. Maybe they beat you down. Maybe it's cold and it hurts, maybe, you no no...maybe you save the world."
And 'Mazing Girl flew off into the night.
"Its a pretty good script" Sarah told Carlos. She probably could have emailed him, but she wanted to do this in person "I really like the third act."
Carlos nodded, in a manner that didn't indicate instant death. "Send it over."
And she did. And Carlos apparently liked it as well. It was a little to late for the third season, but he and Eric had a good meeting, and it was provisionally slotted for the fourth with a rewrite. It all went pretty smoothly, actually. And carlos wasn't an ashole. He seemed like a pretty cool guy. Which made Sarah feel a bit of an asshole for being hesitant.
But that was life.
It was one thing about her existence: 'Mazing Girl could do spectacular things - but somehow when plain little Sarah did the small ones...that felt just as good.