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From: Ann Douglas <ann_douglas@hotmail.com>
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X-Article-Creation-Date: Fri Sep 29 23:35:07 2000 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} AnnD"Black Cat Got Your Tongue?" MF,FF,Comics (1/3)
Date: Fri, 29 Sep 2000 21:10:01 -0400
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A few months back, I was asked to write
an story with original characters for an upcoming
superhero story site. Originally I was going to
pass on the idea as I really didn't want to go to all
the trouble of creating them from scratch. Not
when I was planning to get back to Supergirl and
Batgirl in the hopefully near future. Then it
occuried to me that I had already done the hard
work with the background characters I had
created for The Adventures of Ultra Woman and
Mega Girl. So by just taking those comic book
ladies and making them real, the story was born.
Black Cat Got Your Tongue?
An Ultra Woman and Mega Girl Adventure
by Ann Douglas
Part One
"Damn, who could that be at this hour?"
Abigail Stone thought as the phone by her bed
rang mercilessly.
Normally a phone call, even at this late
hour, wouldn't have bothered her that much. The
problem with answering this particular call was
that Abigail was practically naked and spread face
down on her bed, weighed down by one hundred
and ninety-two pounds of manhood. Not
counting, of course, the six inches of which was
buried deep between her legs.
As was her usual Friday night practice,
Abigail, or Abby as she normally went by, had met
her boyfriend, Sergeant Nick Hamilton for dinner
and a movie. Tonight, as had become a pattern
the last few weeks, the movie had been skipped in
favor of a rumble under the sheets.
There were times, this being one of them,
when Abby thought she might have acted a little
too hastily when she finally gave in to Nick and
invited him to her bed. The twenty-five year old
hadn't been a virgin the night of that invite, but of
course she didn't tell him that. Even in this new
modern world of 1947, it was still important for a
man to think he'd been the first. Still, it would've
been nice if he'd come up with a ring on her
finger beforehand to at least make it more
respectable.
Those thoughts faded from her mind in an
instant when she realized the phone had stopped
in mid-ring. The caller had either given up or ...
"Oh no, Nick!" Abby thought in a panic
as she looked back over her shoulder and saw her
lover had answered the phone. "I'm not that
modern that I want to explain what a man is doing
in my apartment this late at night, answering my
phone!"
"Sergeant Hamilton," Nick answered the
phone, not even bothering to pull out of Abby.
Unable to get out from under the large
man, Abby could only watch as Nick listened
silently to the call, nodding his head a few time
and then finally saying he'd be right there.
"That was the desk sergeant at the
Twenty-eighth Precinct," Nick said as he finally
climbed off Abby. "The Black Cat has stolen the
Star of China from the Metro Museum. The
Chief wants me down there right away."
Abby sat up and looked at Nick with a
stunned expression, barely hearing what he had
said. All she could think of at this moment was
that the people downtown had known exactly
where to call him. He'd told his fellow police
officers in whose apartment he was spending the
night. They didn't have to be detectives to know
what they were doing. Suddenly, Abby didn't feel
so modern after all.
"Gotta go babe," the six foot two blond
said as he zippered up his pants, "duty calls."
"That's it?" Abby said, now standing in
the center of the bedroom, her well proportioned
figure garbed in only stockings and a black garter
belt. "Duty calls?"
"Hey, what can I say?" Nick said as he
checked his 38 special before putting it back into
his holster. "We'll have to make it another night."
Then, without another thought about her,
Nick Hamilton was out the door.
"Damn him!" Abby cursed as she stared at
the back of her apartment door.
The five foot seven brunette wasn't sure if
she was angrier with Nick because he had left her
unfulfilled or that he treated their relationship so
casually as to make it an open secret. She had
met Sergeant Nick Hamilton almost a year ago,
after she had been assigned to the child welfare
section of the Policewomen's Bureau. She had
soon found herself taken by his rugged good looks
and charm.
The Sergeant, on the other hand, had been
immediately mesmerized by her impressive bust
the first time he had seen her. Remembering the
day they met, Abby cupped her breasts, thinking
how men found them so fascinating. She knew
they had opened many doors in her life, even the
one which had led her to the Policewomen's
Bureau.
Ever since she was a child, listening to the
stories her father told at his knees, Abby Stone
had wanted to follow in what was considered the
family business. Her great grandfather had been a
Texas Ranger. His son, the Marshal who tracked
down Bad Billy Brown and the Walton Brothers.
After the family had moved to the West Coast, her
father and two of his brothers had become
members of the Coast City Police, all rising to the
rank of Lieutenant or better. Four of their sons
now also served on the Force in various positions.
It seemed only natural that she could do so as
well. Or so she thought.
When Abby had first broached the idea of
applying for a job on the Police Force, soon after
her eighteenth birthday, both her Father and her
Uncles had regarded the idea as laughable. She
would be wasting her time, they'd told her. The
Police Department only hired a small handful of
women, usually old matrons to handle those few
tasks that would be inappropriate for a man.
"Better you find yourself a nice job as a
secretary or something," her father has advised
her. "Something to keep you busy until the right
man comes along. Just leave the business of crime
fighting to the men."
After being turned down twice by the
department, Abby had reluctantly done just that.
That was until a manpower shortage during the
war had forced the department to open the way
for the recruitment of more women. Police
officers carried a deferment from the draft, but
enough of them had enlisted to cause a small
shortage.
The Chief of Police decided to solve what
he perceived as a temporary problem by increasing
the size and scope of the Policewomen's Bureau.
This would prevent a swelling of the ranks in the
department when all those police officers turned
soldiers and sailors eventually came home. A law
put on the books after Pearl Harbor guaranteed
them their jobs back with no loss of seniority or
pay.
Members of the Policewomen's Bureau
were paid less than Policemen and were only
allowed to handle certain clerical and non-
operational tasks. Still they were useful filling
positions that would free up male officers for the
real job of keeping the streets safe.
Applying for one of the coveted positions
as soon as they were announced, Abby found that
there was plenty of competition. The odds of
getting one of the limited openings increased
against her when her father, displeased with her
decision, refused to use his influence on her
behalf. He wouldn't stand in her way, he'd said,
but neither would he use his influence to help.
On the day of her interview, Abby made a
discovery that she knew would help her. Almost
to a woman, all of the other applicants were what
could only be described as plain looking. At least
as compared to Abby. When she sat down for her
interview with a Captain and two Lieutenants, she
knew they were more interested in her chest than
her office skills. They reasoned, she figured, that
if they now had to put up with a woman in their
previously all male domains, then it might as well
be one who was nice to look at.
The newly hired Policewoman justified her
use of her sexual attraction to get on the Force by
promising herself that she would advance after
that on the quality of her merits rather than the
size of her boobs. It was a promise that she
would find hard to keep.
The main reason for that inability to
advance was that there didn't seem to be any
second level for Policewomen. Issued a badge
and even a gun, they had absolutely no patrol
duties. For the first two years, Abby had been
assigned as an assistant to the desk sergeant at the
First Precinct, Police Headquarters itself. The
work was hardly difficult, given the secretarial
skills she had developed on her prior job. Still
there was a certain fascination in being so close to
the action and playing what she believed was a
vital part.
That was until the war ended, and as the
old song said, Johnny came marching home. In
her case, Johnny turned out to be Officer Michael
Patrick Mooney, a ten year veteran who was quite
anxious to get back to his old job. A position that
happened to be filled at the moment by one
Abigail Stone. Hardly unique in her situation,
Abby had been called into her Captain's office at
the end of watch one Friday afternoon and politely
informed that Officer Mooney would be returning
to his old job come Monday morning.
"In fact, many of the women hired under
the emergency expansion are being let go," he'd
told her, "but that's not something you have to
worry your pretty head about. In appreciation for
all your family has given to the department, we've
made sure a position has been reserved for you in
the child welfare section."
Abby had been crushed. In the blink of an
eye, she had gone from being a vital cog in the
war on crime to being responsible to changing
dirty diapers and baby-sitting kids passing under
the responsibilities of the child welfare agencies.
When she got home, her father had given her one
of those "I told you so" looks, but thankfully
didn't voice it as well.
One uneventful day seemed to just blend
into another after that. That was until the warm
sunny afternoon that she found herself standing in
the same shoes that had been worn by three
generations of Stones before her.
Abby had decided to walk home as it was
such a nice day. She was headed down Lucas
Boulevard when the alarm of the First National
Bank filled the air. Drawn across the street by the
disturbance, she saw two men racing out of the
bank, bags of money in their hands. Without a
second thought, she drew her firearm and called
out for them to stop.
"Police!" Abby yelled as she assumed a
firing position just beyond the curb. "Drop your
weapons and put your hands up!"
The closest thief brought up his own pistol
and fired, the bullet whizzing past Abby's head.
Standing her ground, she returned fire, a single
shot hitting her assailant dead center.
The other thief had jerked his head around,
taking in the woman with a gun pointed at him
and the body of his partner on the pavement, a
large pool of blood spreading out beneath it. Not
filled with a desire to join him, he opened his
hands and lifted them into the air, letting both his
weapon and the bag of money fall to the ground.
The press had a field day with the Hero
Lady Cop. The Mayor himself had pinned the
medal on her dress uniform with all her relatives
on the force standing behind her on the platform.
The Chief of Police said in his own speech that
she was a credit to the traditions of her family.
Beaming with pride, Abby knew that things were
going to be different from now on.
For the next few weeks, things were
indeed different. The hero of the hour found
herself giving speeches to one civic group after
another. There was even some talk of having her
join the actual Police Force itself. Abby was
overjoyed as her dream seemed within her grasp.
Then the winds of interest changed once
more and all such talk faded away. The requests
for speeches stopped, as did the instances she was
asked her opinion. The following week, less than
two months since the bank robbery, Abby found
herself back at the child welfare section. It was as
if she had never left.
On that night, Abby Stone came to a life
changing decision. If the department wouldn't let
her fight crime as her forefathers had, well then
she'd do it without their help. Aside from her
Father's stories of family history, Abby had also
grown up on tales of other heroes. Zorro, the
Scarlet Pimpernel and most recently on the radio,
the Lone Ranger. Masked heroes who had
wielded their own brand of justice. That all of
these adventurers had been men didn't bother the
twenty-three year old in the least.
Abby took a quick shower, thankful that
her renovated apartment was one of the few in the
building to have one. It wouldn't do for her to go
out with the scent of their aborted coupling still
clinging to her. Stepping back into her bedroom,
her skin still damp, she unlocked an old hand
made closet that had once belonged to her
grandmother. From within it, she pulled out a
specially designed bra.
When she had first joined the department,
Abby had considered the idea that her own
particular dimensions might impair some physical
activities that might be demanded of her. That
was in the days when she foolishly thought the
Department had any intention of letting her
actually fight crime on the front lines. The well
endowed women had sought out the help of Tony
Pastore, the nice old man who ran a neighborhood
shop that specialized in bras and undergarments.
She explained her problem to the sixty-six
year old and he promised that he could solve it.
After working on it for almost a week, he came up
with a support bra that was almost as lightweight
as it was supportive.
Next out of the closet came a red costume,
the tunic of which bore a passing resemblance to
the navy blue uniform Abby normally wore as a
Policewoman. In fact, the design for the costume
had begun with one of her old uniforms.
When she had first decided to fight crime
on her own, Abby had again sought out the help
of the old man who had come to think of her as an
adopted granddaughter. Tony Pastore's still
talented fingers had turned a simple sketch Abby
had made into reality.
The tunic was double breasted with gold
and white trim. A matching skirt was also red,
with the same trim, the boots that completed the
outfit were red as well.
The last item out of the closet was a mask
that was sort of a half cowl. It covered her face
but let her hair hang free.
Abby stepped over to the large dressing
mirror to check her appearance. She smiled,
happy at the result. The image that looked back
at her was not that of an unappreciated and ill
used Policewoman, but rather the adventurer the
press had named Ultra Woman.
"Well, Black Cat," she said to her
reflection, "this time you've gone too far."
The fire escape out of Abby's bedroom
window led up to the roof. Soon after she had
taken the apartment, she had discovered that she
had the only apartment that faced the sealed off
alley between buidling. It made for a perfect and
private route out of her top floor rooms. After a
quick trip up the metal ladder, it was a quick two
rooftops to the Kirby and Lee Garage. Hidden in
a sealed off section of the garage was the sleek
black racer know as the Ultra-Glider. Less than
five minutes after leaving her apartment, Ultra
Woman was on the prowl.
Lifting the small microphone under the
dash, Ultra Woman sent a high frequency message
letting her partner Mega Girl know she was in the
field and her destination. At the same time, she
activated a small electronic homing device in her
belt buckle. Abby didn't pretend to understand half
the gear Mega Girl had set them up with, she only
knew that they all seemed to work flawlessly. The
Ultra-Link, as it had been christened, was a
homing device, would allow each of them to find
the other, anywhere in a twenty mile radius.
As the high powered Ultra-Glider raced
through the dark and for the most part empty
streets, Ultra Woman couldn't help but think how
much her life behind the mask had changed over
the last year. Originally, Ultra Woman patrolled
the city using an old 1938 Ford that Abby had
rescued from the police impound yard. The
Sergeant who ran the yard was more than willing
to lose the paperwork on a car headed for the
scrap heap in order to give much needed
transportation for the daughter of an old friend.
Another friend, one who had more ulterior
motives, had volunteered to restore the car to
working condition. He'd succeeded in that, but
not in obtaining her thanks in the form he'd hoped
for.
Her weapons of crimefighting were simply
those she had been taught to use all of her life.
Carl Stone might not have wanted his daughter to
live the life he envisioned for her brothers, but he
still saw to it that she spent just as many hours
learning self-defense. In her early teens, it was
obvious to all the men in her family that Abby was
growing into a body that would draw men like
moths to a flame. Not all of these men would have
honorable intentions and they wouldn't always be
there to protect her.
Aside from that, there was little in the way
of specialized equipment. At least nothing that
hadn't come her way in the form of misplaced or
even misappropriated police supplies. As a result,
a year into her career and all she had little to show
for her efforts were a few minor accomplishments
and some good press. Most of which had come
from a cynical press that was more curious than
impressed.
It was at one of those press functions a
year ago, a carefully staged event to promote
Coast City tourism, that Ultra Woman had first
met Priscilla Ann Wellington. A month shy of her
eighteenth birthday, Priscilla was the daughter of
John and Cynthia Wellington and heir to the
Wellington Electronics fortune. Five six and a
gifted athlete as well, she was already a
millionairess the day she was born. In addition, the
strawberry blond had also inherited her
grandfather's genius with gadgets.
Fascinated by the mystery woman since
the day Ultra Woman had first appeared; Priscilla
had used her family name to arrange both an
invitation to the event as well as a personal
introduction to her idol. Ultra Woman was
slightly embarrassed by the almost outright
adulation the young girl displayed. In fact, it took
all of her self-control not to laugh when Priscilla
stated her desire to help with the fight against
crime.
Before the Crimefighter could politely turn
her down and give her the standard "you can best
help by growing up to be a good citizen" speech,
the girl had already started her own speech about
all these wonderful inventions she was working on
and what a big help they could be. Ultra Woman
was actually relieved when a reporter she normally
detested interrupted and pulled her away.
Ultra Woman might not have been so
quick to dismiss the girl if she'd known that
Priscilla was a child prodigy who held a college
degree when most girls her age were happy with a
high school diploma. Or the fact that Priscilla
wasn't the type who was used to taking no for an
answer. On her own, the teenager set out to
prove both her worth and that of her ideas.
Two weeks later, there was a highly
publicized threat on the life of Mayor Roger
Browning following the conviction of Boss
Thorne, the head of the local crime family. In an
act designed more to sell newspapers than insure
the Mayor's protection, the Coast City Sun had
called on Ultra Woman to safeguard the Mayor.
Despite having no idea on how to do it, Abby had
accepted the challenge.
Standing besides Mayor Browning at the
opening of the new Civic Center a day later was
a highly visible, if ineffective, bodyguard.
Somewhat out of her league, Ultra Woman gave
no notice to the two men slowly moving through
the crowd. In her defense, neither did the Police
pay much attention to the pair who were working
their way closer and closer to the Mayor.
It was only at the last moment, just before
the would be assassins could draw their weapons,
that a young girl in a home made costume
suddenly leapt from the parapet of the Civic
Center and caught everyone's attention. In her
hand, the red and white clad girl held a small,
unknown electronic device.
"Stop those men," she cried out as she hit
the ground, "they're going to shoot the Mayor!"
Taking the beeping device in her hand to
be a possible bomb, the Police rushed the new
arrival instead. Only Ultra Woman followed the
girl's command and rushed the two men, just as
their guns came into view.
The hard impact of Ultra Woman's
reinforced baton off the side of the closest
gunman's head sent him tumbling to the ground.
A hard right cross took care of the other, but not
before he got off one shot which thankfully went
wild.
The loud single gunshot split the air,
grabbing everyone's immediate attention. In the
deafening silence that followed, a single voice was
heard. The voice of an unknown bystander who
gave birth to a new legend.
"Ultra Woman and her partner saved the
Mayor!" he had cried.
The sudden association of the girl in red
and white with the heroine of the moment caused
the Police to quickly release her. With unbridled
enthusiasm, she quickly explained that the
magnetic anomaly detector in her hand had
allowed her to 'see' the gunmen's hidden weapons.
Photographers clamored for pictures of the two
together, and it was only when they were a few
feet apart that Ultra Woman recognized the girl as
Priscilla Wellington.
"What's your partner's name, Ultra
Woman?" one of the reporters called out.
The older Adventurer was about to explain
that first of all, she wasn't her partner, when
Priscilla cut her off and said, "Mega Girl, that's
Ultra Woman and Mega Girl."
The press ate it up, making it the banner
headline in almost every major daily. Once they
were away from the crowd, Abby made it
clear in no uncertain terms to Priscilla that there
wasn't now, or ever, going to be a team of Ultra
Woman and Mega Girl.
The younger woman just answered her
with a knowing smile. A smile that was still there
three days later when Abby opened the door to
her apartment and found Priscilla standing there.
"What, how ?" Abby stammered
when she saw the girl, totally losing her
self-control.
It had taken the girl less than seventy-two
hours to figure out Ultra Woman's identity. Part
of it had been the result of deductive reasoning;
part of it had been simple luck. Going over her
large collection of both newspaper and magazine
articles about Ultra Woman, Priscilla had come
across an older City Magazine with the front-page
story "Beauty With a Badge" The article had been
about a hero policewoman who had captured two
armed bank robbers.
There was enough of a similarity in both
women's builds to catch Priscilla's attention. That
plus the fact that both were brunettes with
shoulder length hair. Contrary to popular male
belief, there weren't an insurmountable number of
beautiful young women with a build like Ultra
Woman in Coast City. When you narrowed that
down to brunettes, although the idea of a wig had
to be considered, the number dropped even lower.
Given the admittedly superficial resemblance
between Officer Abigail Stone and Ultra Woman,
it seemed as good a place to start as any.
When you are rich, many doors open with
the wave of a twenty-dollar bill. It was a simple
matter to get better copies of the photos of
Officer Stone than those that appeared in the
grainy newsprint. Making blowups of each
woman's face, Priscilla compared them under a
magnifying glass and saw enough in common to
investigate further.
It only took a few more comparisons and
inquiries for her to decide that she had lucked out
on her very first try. The only thing that made it
seem improbable was that how could no one have
not noticed it before. Officer Stone and Ultra
Woman had to have run into the same people in
their official lives. It was like saying you could
just put on a pair of glasses and people would
think you were someone else.
Then, looking again at the pictures of both
women, Priscilla thought she saw the answer to
her question. Whereas she was immediately
drawn to each woman's face, most of the people
they came into contact with centered their gaze
somewhat lower. Even so, Priscilla wasn't totally
sure until Abby opened the door and she saw her
reaction.
Abby had finally given in to what seemed
the inevitable and never had cause to regret it.
Aside from the financing and technological
marvels that Mega Girl brought to the partnership,
she also brought something else that Abby hadn't
even realized was missing. A friend with which
she could share all things. A trip to Mr. Pastore's
shop for a more professional costume soon
followed, and the team of Ultra Woman and Mega
Girl was truly born.
(missing parts may be found at)
Ann Douglas Web Page
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Ann_Douglas/www/
ASSTR Donation Page
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/donations.html
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