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Message-ID: <32845asstr$1002327003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Johnny D." <mr_johnny@bigfoot.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Cheerleader with No Panties in "Sibling Juices" (superhero parody mf ff inc teen) by Johnny D.
Date: Fri,  5 Oct 2001 20:10:03 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Well, here's another of my self-contained stories starring the superheroic
Cheerleader With No Panties.  I don't think it quite scales the heights
of my previous story, "The Cheerleader with No Panties meets Kaylok
the Barbarian", but I don't think it's come out too bad either.  As ever,
if anyone has any comments, just drop me an email.

All of the Cheerleader's previous adventures, together with everything
else I've written, can be found on my splendiferous website at:

  http://member.newsguy.com/files/Authors/j/wwwondfic/jd/

Enjoy!


Sibling Juices
==============

Another exciting story starring the Cheerleader with No Panties

by Johnny D.



The alley was dark.

Darkness lurked in the alleys, cringing in mortal terror from the
bright lights of the main streets and thoroughfares of New York City.
They were crammed with people, decorated with colourful shop-signs.  It
was in the alleys that darkness skulked, slimy darkness amongst the
grimy and the dirty, the druggies and the drunks.  Only feet from the
hustle and bustle was a dirty otherworld of vice and danger.

And crime.  Criminals are a cowardly, superstitious breed.  The bright
lights and the efficient policing of Chief O'Lada's men frightened
them, kept them away from the main shopping streets, but the alleys
were their domain.  There they could prey upon the innocent or even
each other, taking what they could and what the could not, ruling the
roost.

The woman knew she shouldn't have come here.

The short cut had seemed so tempting, a direct route back home instead
of the massive detour around the crowded main streets.  A half-hour
spent pushing her way through a torrent of people or a quick ten minute
dash through a deserted alley; she'd thought about it many times, many
days after work, but always she'd stuck to the wide, safe streets.
Never had she risked it.  Never, until today.

Today she was running late, kept back by her boss to finish one last
letter, check one final invoice, then give him a blow job once everyone
else had gone.  She was late, very late; her husband would be angry and
her children would want their dinner.  The alley would be perfectly
safe, just ten minutes and she'd be through the other side, fifteen and
she'd be home.

Now she was running.

She wasn't sure what was following her, if anything.  Perhaps it was
the dark.  Perhaps the dark was running after her on little legs.  No;
the dark didn't have legs.  It slithered, like a snake, spreading like
poured honey.  And so she was running, the dark snapping at her feet,
carrying nasty little men who would steal her purse and her virtue and-

She ran into him.

He stank of beer; beer and fart and mouldy socks.  She recoiled from
him, tried to run, but he had her by the arm.  Fat, dirty fingers
against her sleeve.

"Let go, you're hurting me!" she yelled.

"Wassamatta, you scared?" he slurred.  His breath smelled of beer.  His
teeth were rotting in his mouth.

"Let me go!"

But his hand only gripped tighter.  And he had two, and the other one
was on the front of her blouse.  "Whattav ya here?"  And he gripped and
pulled, popping the buttons.  His hand thrust inside.  Pushing on her
chest.  Fingers wriggling into her bra.

"NO!" screamed the woman.

"You want it really." He tried to kiss her; a sloppy, slobbering
attempt.  His fingers twisted her nipple and he thrust his erection
against her thigh and-

And then he froze.

His skin was cold, cold as ice.  Frost had formed on his stubble.

At the end of the alley was an angel in spandex; blue costume with a
white stripe hugging every curve of her body, her hair a brilliant
silver against deathly pale skin.

"You saved me.  Thank you." said the woman.  "But who are you?"

The angel considered for a moment before replying: "You can call me
Frigid Girl."


In every girl's life, there comes a moment when only a big wide
strap-on dildo will do the job.

Linda Carpenter tried to muffle her screams as her best friend Diana
thrust the four-inch-wide fake cock in and out of her cunt, her lips
stretched obscenely wide to accommodate the intrusion.  The knobbly
surface of the dildo was rubbing against her clitoris, every motion
sending her to a new height of pleasure.

It wasn't supposed to have been like this.

It had started as a dare.  Linda had dared Diana to wear a strap-on to
school all morning, then fuck her in the janitor's closet after Maths.
She hadn't expected her friend to choose _that_ dildo.  It wasn't long
but it was wide and heavy, and it must have been awkward to wear, a
lead weight dangling between her legs through periods of History and
English and Biology.

It wasn't supposed to have been like this, but Linda wasn't
complaining.

Diana panted, a sheen of fine sweat on her forehead as she pumped her
cock roughly into her friend, who was spreadeagled on the janitor's
desk, her cute little nipples hard as pencils, her mouth open and her
eyes vacant.  She loved making people cum, and cum, and cum, almost as
much as she loved cumming herself.

She felt the base of the dildo rubbing against her own clit and groaned
gently.

And Linda stifled a scream with her fist, trying not to attract a
teacher who would snatch her from heaven.


Finally she fell back to Earth.  Her friend had pulled up her skirt and
gone to her Art class, where she was working on getting into the pants
of the cute new Art teacher, Mr Julius.

Linda looked at herself in the mirror of the girl's toilets.  She
looked like she'd just been fucked; her hair in a state of wild
abandon, her cheeks flushed with blood, her eyes hooded.  Her school
uniform was crumpled from her earlier hasty undressing.

Linda thought this was her best look.  She ran her tongue over her red
lips, fixing herself with a smoldering gaze, then giggled.  What a
slut.  She loved looking like this!

But her teachers wouldn't like it, and her mother wouldn't like it.  So
she took out her comb and began to run it through her hair, restoring
order to her appearance.  And she was half-way done when she heard the
screams.

"Help!  He's got a gun!  Help us!"

People were in trouble.  And when people were in trouble, it was
Linda's job to save them.  Because Linda Carpenter, schoolgirl slut
extraordinaire, led a secret double-life.  She breathed deeply, glad
that for once her duty hadn't interfered with her orgasms, and began to
whisper her magic chant:

  "One, Two, Three, Four,
   We know how they want to score!
   Five, Six, Seven, Eight,
   We'll let them glimpse but no mistake,
   They can't have our pretty tails!
   Cee Aich Eee Eee Arr Ell Eee Aye Dee Eee Arr Ess!"

Linda watched in the mirror as her brown hair was bleached blonde, her
breasts grew in size, her school uniformed shimmered as a cheerleader's
pleated skirt and colourful shirt replaced it.  She looked down and saw
the neat ankle-length socks and pink-and-white trainers on her feet.
She felt fresh stirrings in her cunt, now naked to the air.

And if anyone saw the Cheerleader with No Panties, New York City's own
superhero protector, zooming out of the school toilets, or heard the
sonic boom that trailed in her wake, they never mentioned it.


The screams had come from a jewelers on the other side of the city.
By the time the Cheerleader arrived, the police were already present.
The Cheerleader alighted beside Sergeant Wolfe, a newcomer to the
N.Y.P.D.

"Okay Sergeant, what's the situation here?" she asked.

Only now did the Sergeant look at her.  That in itself was unusual, as
most of his colleagues would gaze up at her cunt as she descended from
the skies.  "It was Triplicate Man, Cheerleader.  He tried to rob the
store with a three-barelled shotgun, but it's all over now."

"All over?  Did the police subdue him?"  That would be above your
normal level of success in dealing with supervillains, the Cheerleader
added silently.

"Not quite." answered Wolfe, adjusting his collar nervously.  The
Cheerleader's super-hearing detecting the bell of the jewellery store
door ringing, and she looked up to see two officers carrying Triplicate
Man out into the road.  He was like a statue, frozen in position.
Rigid.

"What happened to him?" asked the Cheerleader.

"We're not sure." said Sergeant Wolfe.  "But I don't think we'll
need you here.  Sorry."

The Cheerleader considered for a moment.  "I think I'll accompany your
guys taking Triplicate Man to prison." she said, eventually.  "Make
sure he doesn't escape again."

Wolfe shrugged his acceptance.


And miles away, in a residential suburb, Tom Pritchard slammed the
front door and was half-way up the stairs before his mother called to
him.  "Just a minute young man, what do you think you're doing,
slamming doors like that!"

"Sorry, mum!" he called back.  "I forgot."

"Forgot, was it?  You may be seventeen but you're not too old for me to
take you over my knee." she shouted, only half in jest.  "Now, dinner
will be ready in five minutes, so get down here and tell your sister to
come too."

Tom stomped off up the stairs.  It wasn't fair that he had to do
everything around the house.  He threw his schoolbag down onto his bed
then barged into his sister's room.  "Mum says dinner's ready and you
should come down right now." he announced, then stomped out.

He'd half-noticed his sister's scrambling motions on the bed, as if she
were trying to cover something up, but he was half-way down the stairs
before he suddenly realised that there had been a strange smell in her
room.  A strange, wet smell.  Like sweat and something else, something
unmistakable.

Could his sister, his prim twin sister, have been masturbating?


Dinner was nice, as Tom's mother was a really good cook.  Tom tucked in
with gusto, answering his mother's questions about his day
monosyllabically.  His sister was more forthcoming.

"So Lydia, did you enjoy your Biology class today?"

"It was interesting." replied Tom's twin sister.  "We were doing the
mating cycle of the chimpanzee."

Tom found is slightly spooky that Lydia fixed him with a stare as she
explained all she had learned.

Finally, the food was all gone and Tom sat back in his chair, feeling
satiated and content.  Lydia leant over to pick up his plate, and for a
moment he could see down her shirt, see her breasts hanging free in
there.  Beautiful, unblemished cleavage.

He shook his head and the moment was gone.  Lydia collected the dishes
and went to load the dishwasher.


They called it The Dungeon.  Three hundred feet beneath New York City,
lined with toughened concrete thick enough to withstand a nuclear
blast, the only entrance through a tightly-defended compound at the end
of a mile-long tunnel.  A custom-build institution for the imprisonment
of super-criminals whom normal prisons couldn't hold.

The Cheerleader with No Panties hadn't been to the Dungeon for some
months, but it was still as grim and depressing as she remembered.  She
carried Triplicate Man down one of the many clean white corridors back
to his cell; he had de-frosted on the journey and was now threatening
to sue for the trauma, claiming he had remained conscious throughout the
ordeal.

She met the prison's Director once the force-field had been
re-established around the Triplicate Man's cell.  "Greetings,
Cheerleader with No Panties." he said, his clean white teeth shining
like beacons against his black skin in the brilliant ambient lighting.

"Mr Director." the Cheerleader nodded formally.  "How did he escape
this time?"

"We're not sure yet," he replied.  "But there are three possibilities."

"Somehow, I thought there might be," smiled the Cheerleader.  "So
Mr Director, how goes this facility?"

The Director of the Dungeon smiled back, as men were want to do in the
presence of the Cheerleader with No Panties.  "Good.  The facility is
secure, with the exception of this most recent outrage.  For each
inmate we have developed a unique policy to neutralise their
extraordinary talents and prevent escape."

He led the Cheerleader down the corridor to stand outside another cell.
Looking inside, she saw a big, muscular, ginger-haired man sitting on a
bench.  She recognised him instantly.  "Ejaculation Man."

"Yes.  His cum explodes on contact with the air," said the Director.
"So we only feed him meals laced with bromide.  Now he can't even get
an erection, let alone ejaculate.  While he's here, he's no danger to
anyone anymore."

"That's good.  But I wish...  I wish it wasn't necessary to lock these
people up.  I really wish we could rehabilitate them."

The Director nodded.  "We have been experimenting with using hypnosis
to remove these people's criminal tendencies, so we can release them
and they can become normal members of society."

"I know, and I hope it works," said the Cheerleader.  "I really hope it
works."


As she flew away from the Dungeon's entrance, the Cheerleader's mind
was whirling with the question: what had happened to Triplicate Man?
Was it related to the frozen criminals who had been found in the
downtown area?  What did it all mean?

She looked down and saw that the security cameras surrounding the
Dungeon's external compound were all trained on her; looking up skirt.

She smiled and wiggled her ass playfully.


Time passed, hours turning into days turning into weeks.  Headlines
ran across the newspapers like mice, one in three about the new
superhero sensation that was gripping New York.  "CRIMINALS FROZEN
IN MID-HEIST", "SUPERHERO ICE-MAIDEN STOPS BANK RAID WITH ICY GLARE",
"FRIGID GIRL SAVES THE DAY AGAIN", "ELVIS WAS MY LOVE-CHILD".  People
loved, lost, found, and had lots of sex.  Criminals tried to commit
crimes and were inevitably foiled.


Lydia's fingers traced the outline of her hard nipples through her
schoolshirt.  The tiny sensation caused her to shiver in delight.
Moving too quickly, her hands fumbled to unbutton her shirt, taking far
too longer to ease each little round nubbin through its appointed
orifice.  Finally she just gripped the two sides of her shirt and
pulled them apart, sending buttons spinning off into the dark corners
of her bedroom.  She thrust one hand inside immediately, roughly
kneading at her right breast.

She wasn't even wearing a bra.

Her shirt fell to the floor.  Her left breast was displayed proudly for
all her flowery wallpaper to see; a perfect upturned mammary topped
with a darker nipple as hard as a pencil.  The other was buried beneath
her left hand, glimpses of the soft flesh being forced through splayed
fingers.  Her breath was become shorter, sharper, her face blushing
slightly beneath her light schoolgirl make-up.

Lydia's right hand dropped down, gently running across her thigh before
settling on the zipper of her skirt.  Easing it down, one little notch
at a time, in an almost teasing display totally at odds with the
desperate pummeling actions on her chest.  Finally it reached the
bottom and she stepped out of her skirt.

Now she was naked except for a pair of fine lace panties.  She tore her
hand from her tit and hooked both thumbs under the waistband, pushing
the panties down her legs, bending over as they reached her ankles, her
firm buttocks mooning her row of teddy bears.  And between these tight
second cheeks a glimpse of something else, something soft as a cloud
and pink as a pig, as precious as a diamond and as hot as the sun.

She stood up and sprayed her legs slightly, with a practiced ease
suggesting that this was a position she had used many times before.
Her fingers roamed in her rough unshaven bush, tangling in her pubic
hair for a moment of glorious teasing before thrusting down.  One of
them dipped into her wetness while three others started to rub the
sensitive areas around her clitoris, peeking from under its little hood
at the top of her mound.  Circling closer and closer, by decreasing
amounts avoiding that most sensitive of organs, while her finger below
sent soft squelchy noises echoing around her bedroom.  Finally they
brushed over her clit, lightly, delicately, and she threw her head back
in the naked ecstasy of it.

And then she stepped up a gear, pushing her finger in and out of
herself quicker now, her other hand no longer avoiding her clit but
actively exciting it.  She fell backwards onto her bed, her hands in
her crotch, her breasts standing forward between her arms, her nipples
looking like cherries laid on top of two iced fairy cakes; sweet and
firm and red.  She was breathing hard and fast, her fingers moving
quickly, almost like worms squirming in and out of her, rubbing around
and round her most intimate and private areas.  Her body rolling around
on the bed, a sweaty mass of teenage flesh, out of control, disconnected, 
feeling only her fingers and her genitals.

Her hips were making little circular motions as she rolled about with
total abandon.  Then she fell off her bed.

And then something covered the keyhole and Tom couldn't see her
anymore.

He'd been spying on her for weeks now, watching his sister dress and
undress through the keyhole of her bedroom door.  He wanted very
much to fix up some kind of spy-camera in the shower, like they had 
in porn movies and in the sex stories he read on the Internet, but 
he had no idea where he could get one.  Once or twice he'd been lucky 
enough to see her masturbate, and when she'd arrived home today looking 
a little flushed and impatient, made a pathetic excuse and rushed to 
her room, he'd known just what she was thinking of.

The door opened and he found himself staring at her pussy from
close-range.  It was even more beautiful than he had thought; thin,
gentle lips glistening in the light, with a prominent clitoris at
its top.  Droplets of pussy-juice nestled amongst the tight curls of
her pubic hair.

Tom was enchanted.  He had been caught, a small part of his brain
informed him, but all his mouth could say was "Urrrhhhhh."  His
nostrils inhaled the sweet, moist smell of his sister's sex, while in
his pants his cock, a fully erect seven inches, strained to break free
of its confinement.

"Well Tom, did you enjoy my little show?" came a voice from thirty
inches above.

"Urrhhhh...  show?"

"I knew you were watching me," smiled Lydia.  "And I have to say, it
really turned me on.  But that's enough teasing, now it's time for the
main event."

"Thu...  urrhh..."

Lydia pulled her brother to his feet and planted a big, wet kiss on his
lips, gently teasing them with her tongue, rubbing her hand over the
big, hot bulge in his pants.

But Tom pulled away.  "Lydia, stop.  You're my sister, this isn't
right."

"It's okay for you to spy on your sister but not to touch her?" Lydia
responded, taking Tom's hand in her own and placing it on her breast.
"Come on brother, fuck me!"

Tom's resistance crumbled like their mother's bread.  He grabbed Lydia
and kissed her roughly, mashing his lips against hers, pressing his
hand against her tit and rubbing the tip of his mountainous crotch
against his sister's hip.  She responded by rubbing her own wetness
against his trouserleg, sighing around her brother's tongue as his big,
hot hand roamed down her back to her perfect buttocks.

She dropped to her knees and unzipped Tom's zipper with practiced ease
and pulled out his thick, long, throbbing member.  Lydia ran her
tongue along it, from the balls to the head, then slurped it down into
her mouth.

"Oh God, Lydia," Tom groaned as his sister worked an oral spell on his
tender regions.  Her tongue was everywhere, dancing around the head and
slipping down the shaft, tickling the underside and the upperside and
all over, while her lips ventured so far down the shaft he could swear
she was about to swallow his balls.  "Suck my cock Lydia, suck your
brother's cock!"

Lydia moaned around his meat, the sheer naughtiness of what they were
doing causing her lower reaches to drool gently onto the carpet.  She
had been dreaming about this for weeks, masturbating wildly every night
to fantasies of her brother's cock, the big hard man-thing of her
little brother, a full twenty minutes younger than his big sister, his
big sister now gulping down his cock, rubbing his balls in the palm of
her hand.

Tom pulled her off him and pushed her back onto his bed.  "Now I'm
gonna eat some Pritchard pussy!"  He pulled off his t-shirt and his
pants, eyes fixed on the precious treasure that was between his
sister's wide-spread legs, being gently teased by her delicate little
hand.  He pulled the hand away and dived in, kissing and licking at her 
mound, slurping up the delicious juices that coated her thighs.  His 
sister jerked as his tongue found her clitoris and so he concentrated 
on that tiny little button, hearing and feeling her breathing quicken 
and her body tense.  He worked a finger inside her and began to wriggle 
it around, feeling her hot wet innards tightening spasmodically around it.

He eased himself onto the bed so Lydia could suck his cock while he ate
her, and she was upon it without hesitation, licking and sucking like a
hoover with a tongue.  Tom for his part didn't let up his assault on
her clitoris for one moment, as each moment drive her audibly higher.
Higher and higher and higher, and her lips around his cock were
lifting him up to join her on her cloud.  He pushed his nose against
his sister's clit then shoved his tongue deep into her dripping gash,
wriggling it around like a little worm, and then she came.

Lydia squealed like a cat, humping her crotch into his face as Tom held
on for dear mercy.  Her juices oozed forth as never before and Tom
sucked them all up.  He could feel Lydia's mouth pumping on his cock
like an animal, causing his balls to swell with his cum, hot thick cum,
more and more building up, until finally it exploded through his cock
into his sister's mouth.

Lydia swallowed every precious drop of her brother's cum, licking his
cock clean before falling back exhausted onto her bed as her own climax
eased.  Tom kept licking at her but it was gentler now, the peak of the
wave having passed.

Tom felt more utterly content than at any point he could remember.  His
cock had shriveled to a totally limp four inches, Lydia still
gently sucking on it like a baby on a dummy, and he could still taste
his sister's girl-cum in his mouth.  Sweet, delicious pussy-juices
causing his taste-buds to tingle with delight.  He could remember
the feeling as he had gulped them down, feeling them slide down his
throat, and the moment of pure pleasure as they hit his stomach,
spreading a warm glow through every part of his body.

Tom felt more utterly content than at any point he could remember;
utterly content yet utterly alive.  He could feel his sister's face
cheek against his thigh, the rough blanket against his buttocks, and
the pattern of the wallpaper on the other side of the room.  He felt
content and alive and strong and...  different.  Yet different in a
familiar way.

His sister looked up from his cock and into his eyes, and he saw that
she was different too.  She radiated power amongst her afterglow, a
kind of power he had never seen before, yet was very familiar to him.

He looked his sister in the eye and felt the memories flooding back.
"Oh Lydia," he moaned, "how did we forget?"

His sister frowned.  "And how will we make them pay?"


The bank was like a waxworks; criminals frozen in mid-heist, cold to
the touch and unable to move.  The Cheerleader with No Panties walked
amongst them, feeling every eye watching her even though the bodies
were rigid.

She had been too late again.

She looked up as the door opened to admit a young, fresh-faced cop, his
badge glinting in the bank's fluorescent lighting.  "Oh, hi there
Cheerleader with No Panties," he said in a manner far too familiar for
her tastes.  "I don't think you're needed here though; Frigid Girl has
dealt with these criminals for us."

"Yes. She has," the Cheerleader responded guardedly.

"I'm really glad she's come to our city," the cop blathered regardless.
"If she keeps this up then she'll almost put us out of a job!"

"Yes," said the Cheerleader with No Panties.  In the distance she could
already hear the sound of another burglar alarm.  "I'm needed
elsewhere."

And she flew from the shop far too quickly for the cop to catch even a
glimpse of her groin.


She could see the city spread out below her as she flew over it.
People swarmed like ants in the streets and the shops, slept safe in
the suburbs, had copious sex all over the place.  And she was its
protector.  She was, dammit.  Not that she didn't appreciate a little
help, from time to time, but this was _her city_.  And she hadn't
stopped a crime in weeks.

All this the Cheerleader thought in the three heartbeats it took her to
fly from the bank to the electronics store three blocks away.  The
alarms were ringing loudly, sending shoppers scurrying.  Her x-ray
vision could detect no sign of Frigid Girl within the store.

She pushed the shop door open with a force that cracked the glass,
planted herself imposingly in the doorway, and only then spent a moment
to consider just what she was seeing in the cavernous shop.  The
storeowner was unconscious behind the counter; the perpetrators of the
crime crouching at the back, loading electrical components into a sack.  
They were young and muscular, wearing green-and-purple lycra costumes 
with large shoulderpads and crotch-protectors forming a triangular 
motif.  The slightly shorter of the two turned to face her, a word 
snarling from between pursed lips.  "You!" she said.

The Cheerleader was shocked to recognise them instantly.  "Incest Girl?
Incest Boy!?  But you- you were rehabilitated!"

Incest Girl just growled in reply.  She made a move towards the
Cheerleader, but her partner in crime put a hand on her shoulder.  "No.
It's not time for this yet.  Cheerio Cheerleader, we'll catch you
later," said Incest Boy.

Incest Boy stood - and then he froze in place, an icicle extending an
inch down from his nose.  Overbalancing, he fell, statue-like,
backwards and landed rigidly on the floor.

"You're going nowhere." said a voice.  The Cheerleader turned to find a
new figure standing beside her; a girl with smooth, snow-white skin and
shoulder-length hair the most frightening shade of silver.  A blue
spandex jumpsuit clung to every curve of her body.

Though they had never met, the Cheerleader with No Panties recognised
her from her description, not to mention her rather distinctive trick
of freezing criminals.  "You must be Frigid Girl," she said.  "Go
away."

Frigid Girl raised an eyebrow.  "I'm just trying to help.  That
adolescent male criminal can't hurt anyone now."

"I don't need your help." stated the Cheerleader.  And then Frigid Girl
was suddenly swept backwards as if by a giant invisible hand, flying
through the air and hitting the wall hard enough to leave a mark nine
feet up.  She slid down to collapse on the floor in a heap.

"Besides," added the Cheerleader.  "Incest Boy is a telekinetic.  If
he's still conscious, he can hurt you with his mind.  Better let the
professionals handle this, love."

She turned back to the criminals with a smile on her lips.  "Well, boys
and girls, I'm just a little lost Cheerleader, can anyone show me the
way to the girl's locker room?"  She ran her hands down her torso, over
her breasts, to her thighs.  "I'm really hot...  and wet...  with
sweat...  and I think I really need to take off all my clothes and have
a shower."

She could see that she had them in her grasp, as she always did when
she concentrated her sexuality on criminals.  Incest Girl was staring
at her with eyes wide open, a small trickle of drool leaking from the
corner of her mouth.  Incest Boy was still frozen solid, but she
fancied she could detect just a hint of lust in his eyes.

Everyone thought the Cheerleader with No Panties was sexy, but when she
made the effort she could be not just irresistible, but enchanting.

She pulled her right hand back up her thigh, allowing her skirt to ride
with it for just an instant, giving them just a glimpse of her fresh
young pussy before the hand travelled further up to her breast.  She
squeezed it gently through her shirt, feeling the nipple harden and
press against the material.

She spun around and bent over, making an exaggerated show of reaching
for her toes.  "I have to take my clothes off for the shower, but I
don't think I can quite reach my shoes," she said, a coquettish smile
showing that she knew full well what was happening with the back of her
skirt as she bent over.  "I'm just so hot, I really think I should lay
down..."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Incest Girl's hand tracing
the outline of her nipple.  The other was fumbling with her costume's
pointed crotch-protector in an almost absent-minded desire to get to
grips with her sensitive girly areas.  In about another two minutes,
Incest Girl would have brought herself to an enormous, exhausting
climax and be helpless when the police finally arrived to arrest her.

With a large CRACK!, Incest Boy's penis burst free of its icy
confinement and rose as a huge bulge in his costume.

The Cheerleader with No Panties turned back to them and sucked her
finger gently into her mouth.  "Do you think-"

"NO!" screamed Incest Girl suddenly.  "No.  NO.  NO!!!"  She fell down
beside Incest Boy, screwed up her eyes -

- and vanished in a puff of smoke.

"Fuck!" swore the Cheerleader with No Panties.  "I was afraid of that."

"Wazzzzzzzup..." slurred a voice from behind her.  Frigid Girl was
dragging herself back to her feet.  "What's up...  she can
teleport?  Does your power not work on females?"

"Of course it does.  All women are bisexual." the Cheerleader tutted.
"But those two share a very strong bond.  It's hard to break down.  And
yes, at full strength Incest Girl can teleport across a few city
blocks." She stepped up to the shorter girl and looked her in the eye.
"Now, I'm warning you.  Don't get in my way again."

And with that, she was gone.

Frigid Girl watched her fly away.  As the other superhero became a
speck on the distant horizon, a neutral expression settled upon
her face, and she said: "Well, I was only trying to help."


Whenever the job of protecting New York City became too hard or too
stressful for the Cheerleader with No Panties to handle, there was
always someone who could help her to see things in perspective.
Someone who always knew just what to say.

He was called The Coach.

The warehouse was dark.  It was always dark.  Even in the height of
summer, when sunlight should have been streaming through the skylights,
it was dark in there.  The windows cast nothing more than a spectral
gloom throughout the whole building.  The Cheerleader sometimes fancied
that even if she brought a giant spotlight into the building, it
wouldn't illuminate the shadows.

"Coach?" she shouted.  "Are you here?"

"Of course." said the Coach as he emerged from a particularly dark
shadow.  He always looked the same; a little short, rather fat, and
wearing the New York Yankee's latest kit.  He smiled at her benignly.

But the Cheerleader wasn't in a smiling mood.  "Who the fuck is Frigid
Girl?"

The Coach frowned.  "Language, Cheerleader, please.  Remember who you
are.  Remember where you are."

"Just tell me who she is!"

"Do I sense a little aggression, Cheerleader?"

"You bet I'm aggressive.  You bet!"

"But why?"

"Well-" started the Cheerleader.  And then she stopped for a second.
"Well I just-...  I mean, she-...  She's been stopping all these crimes
before I even get there!  Everyone thinks she's so great - I tell you,
she's not up to much.  She couldn't even stop Incest Boy!"

The Coach considered for a moment.  "So she stops crimes.  This is bad
because...?"

"That's not the point." the Cheerleader shouted.

"So what is the point?"

"I'm the superhero around here.  Me!  It's my job to save people and
stop crime, mine!  Not hers, mine!  Mine mine mine!"

The Coach smiled at that.  "I see.  You want to be the hero, you want
everyone talking about how great you are.  Even though you couldn't
stop Incest Boy escaping, either.  You're jealous."

"I am not." said the Cheerleader.  She watched the Coach's eyebrow
raise and reconsidered.  "Okay, maybe just a little.  I shouldn't be,
should I."

"No, you shouldn't."

"And I guess it's no big deal if she stops a few crimes.  Sure would
save me the trouble!  And-  well, that hair.  And that body.  She's
really quite sexy."  The Cheerleader grinned, her aggression having
vanished in sixty seconds flat.  "You always do it, don't you.  You
always know just what to say.  It's almost like you know me better than
I know myself."

At this her mentor made a non-committal grunt.  "I think you can hear
something."

The Cheerleader with No Panties listened.  Indeed she could hear
something; a distant screaming.  Someone screaming for help.  "Sounds
like someone needs me.  Thanks for the pep-talk, I don't know what
I'd do without you!" With that, she flew back into the sunlight.

"I'm always here," the Coach told the empty warehouse.  "I'll never
leave you."


The screams had come from a small car-park positioned between two
skyscrapers, but when the Cheerleader alighted on the tarmac she
initially couldn't see their source.  Then she spotted it; a woman in
her early thirties, clad only in bra and panties and gag, huddling
in a metal cage in the back of a large lorry's trailer.

Well, thought the Cheerleader, this would be simple enough to deal
with.  She stepped into the back of the truck, and was somewhat
surprised by the terrified expression that grew on the woman's face.
"Don't worry," she said reassuringly.  "I'm here to save you."

And then four glass walls descended from the roof, trapping her in 
a box three feet square.

A pained applause came from the back of the truck.  A bulb flickered 
to life on the wall, revealing the familiar costumes of Incest Boy and 
Incest Girl.  "Well I must say that I didn't think it'd be quite that 
easy, but it worked." gloated Incest Boy.  "By the way, try looking at 
the glass with your microscopic vision before you think about breaking 
it; you'll see that there's actually a network of microscopic wires 
running through it.  If just one wire gets broken, your half-naked 
friend in that cage will be quite violently electrocuted."

"My brother's a technologic genius." snarled Incest Girl.  "That's
something else your friends made us forget."  Incest Boy smiled at his
sister and they kissed, a big open-mouthed most-unsiblinglike kiss,
with tongues quite obviously venturing into foreign oral environments.
And when they broke, Incest Girl started to lick and nibble at her
brother's ear.

"Oh, the glass with the wires extends across the top and the bottom of
your little coffin.  Sorry, you're trapped.  Forever."

"Tom, Lydia," said the Cheerleader.  "You don't want to do this."

"Tom?  Lydia?  After what you did, you dare to utter those names?" spat
Incest Girl.  "Lydia Pritchard was an athletic teenager, the best
soccer player in her school, totally in love with her hunk of her
brother.  She could teleport across a city block just by concentrating.
And you took all that away!  You and your friends at the Dungeon
rewrote her as some 'normal' teenager stereotype.  You took everything
that made me what I was...  well congratulations, you killed Lydia
Pritchard.  There is only Incest Girl now."

"You were criminals, you tried to rob the Bank of America!" shouted the
Cheerleader.  "If we hadn't tried to rehabilitate you you'd have spent
the next thirty years locked in the Dungeon!"

"We'd have had ourselves, and each other." said Incest Boy.  "Well, now 
we have each other again."

The Cheerleader turned away as Incest Boy pulled his sister to him in a
big wet snog.  As his tongue explored the familiar spires of her teeth,
his hands roamed down her back and over her ass, cupping the firm
globes through their lycra covering.  Pulling out the spiky
crotch-protector from her costume, Incest Girl raised her left leg and
started to hump gently against her brother's right thigh, rubbing her
sensitive labia and even-more-sensistive clitoris against his thick
hard leg.

"Oh God Tom, I want you." she whispered into his ear.  Already she
could feel her loins moistening from close proximity to her ideal
lover, a man born of the same womb, created to fit perfectly within
hers.  And she knew he felt the same; his cock was pressing almost
painfully against her stomach, a steel flagpole flying the colours of
desire.

"I want you too Liddy, I want you too!" Tom groaned.  Taking a step
back, he looked at his sister and with but a thought shredded the lycra
costume on her body.  He reached and pushed a few scraps of material
from her breasts, watching the nipples shiver to full hardness beneath
his touch.  And then he couldn't resist any longer and dived at her
chest, kissing and nipping his sister's titty-flesh with a wild
abandon.  Lydia threw back her head and guided her brother's lips to
her yearning nipple, feeling the soft point being enveloped in a warm
wet welcoming orifice.

And the Cheerleader with No Panties tried not to watch.

Lydia grinned back a moan as she felt her brother telekinetically
manipulating her clitoris.  She could remember now the first time he
had done that, two years ago; she had been scared that he would hurt
her, but he had been so gentle that she had realised for the first time
that they weren't just playing games, that she really did love him.
She reached down and, unzipping his fly, took her big little brother's
penis in her hand, pumping it gently, feeling it respond to the
stimulation in joyous ecstasy.

Tom telekinetically removed his costume and laid himself to the floor.
His sister followed, sitting astride his crotch and lowering herself
onto his straining member.  He slid in easily, as he had been designed
to, and moaned in pleasure as she started to ride him up and down, up
and down.  "Oh God, oh Jesus Liddy that feels so good." he said, before
raising his head to lick at her swinging breasts.  Each one a globe of
joy, two mammaries that he could not avoid, that would one day nourish
their children.

Lydia giggled as her brother nipped at her nips.  The slick rock-hard
rod she rode felt it was penetrating her more and more on each
down-thrust, and she upped her pace, drawing pants from her lungs and
grunts from her brother.

"Ride me, sis," he gasped.  "Fuck your little brother's big hard cock!"

"I'm gonna fuck it till it bleeds!" she cried in response.  The
friction of his member against her labia was sending little vibrations
up to her clitoris, which was sending little bolts of delight to all
the parts of her body.  To her toes, to the heels of her feet, to her
hips, to her stomach, to her elbows, to her fingertips, to her
straining nipples, to her heart, to her neck, to her forehead, to her
ears.  She prepared to surrender herself to the waves of pleasure.  And
then she felt something probing at her anus.

Her brother, with the power of his remarkable mind, had levitated a
screwdriver out of the tool-bag and, after giving it a little squirt of
motor-oil, had floated it down towards them.  Now he parted her
ass-cheeks with his telekinetic powers, feeling with his mind their
firm softness, and teasing at her tight sphincter muscle.  With each
tickle it became looser, and finally it was open enough for him to
gently ease the lubricated plastic handle of the screwdriver into her.

(HEALTH WARNING: Motor oil is not a good choice of lubricant for anal
sex.  Incest Boy and Incest Girl are slightly unbalanced
super-criminals; please do not copy their actions.  Johnny D. accepts
no responsibility for any diarrhoea, bleeding, death or other illness
that results from imitating any practices described in this story.)

Lydia Pritchard, the Incest Girl, grabbed her brother and held him
tightly as she enjoyed the hot cock squelching into her pussy and now
felt this cold makeshift dildo invading her guts.  Now that a
half-inch of plastic was securely embedded in her, her brother was
moving it in tiny circles, easing it in further millimetre at a time.

Finally the shocks of pleasure from her pussy met with the bolts of
delight from the sensitive nerves of her anus and burst the bubble of
sanity around them.  "Fuck me, brother, fuck MEEEEEE!" screamed Lydia
as she came, screwing up and down her brother's cock as fast as her
muscles could manage.  Beneath her Tom bucked.  "Oh God, I'm coming,
sis, I'm coming in you!"

"Fill me up, fill me with the family seed!" Lydia screeched as her
pussy spasmed around her brother's spurting cock, and her asshole
clenched at the screwdriver handle for all it was worth.


The Cheerleader with No Panties felt the floor shudder slightly as the
truck's engine started up and the lorry began to move.  When she had
finally come down from her long and noisy orgasm, Incest Girl had
pulled on a spare shirt and disappeared into the cab of the lorry,
while Incest Boy had sat himself in a chair and inhaled deeply of a
post-coital cigarette.

"Those things will kill you." said the Cheerleader.

"Like you care." said Incest Boy, with a very fake-looking smile.  "But
as it happens, you're wrong.  They're my own invention; free of
nicotine, tar, and every all harmful substance you'll find in the
normal brands.  They're not gonna kill me.  You, on the other hand, are
going to die, slowly and painfully."

"You can't hurt me," said the superhero.  "Not even a bursting shell
can penetrate my skin!"

"That's right." said Incest Boy.  "Your body is most remarkable.  But
it has a weakness; it requires food.  You see, we're not going to feed 
you.  Sooner or later, you'll starve to death, and that will be the 
end of you."

If the Cheerleader was unsettled by this, she didn't show it.  "And
what about her?" she asked, indicating the woman in the cage, who was
now huddled in a foetal position on the floor.

"We'll feed her.  When you're dead, maybe we'll let her go."

"She's clearly traumatised, she needs to see a doctor.  If you let her
go, I promise I won't leave this box." pleaded the Cheerleader.

Incest Boy pretended to think about it before answering: "Nice try,
but somehow I don't believe you."

The Cheerleader with No Panties pouted at this.  "But I'm just a little
girl, why would I lie to you?"  She ran her hand deliberately down the
side of her costume, outlining her shapely curves to their best extent.
"Don't you think I'm a good girl?"

Incest Boy giggled at this.  "That's solid glass around you.  All those
pheromones you release, they can't get through it and cloud our minds.
Did you really think I wouldn't have thought of that?  Face it,
Cheerleader, this is the end for you.  There's no way out."

And then he collapsed unconscious on the floor.

Frigid Girl eased herself through the doors of the moving trailer, a
tranquilliser gun cradled in her arms.  "So he can hurt me with his
mind?  Only when he isn't unconscious.  Do you want me to help you now?"

An embarrassed smile danced across the Cheerleader with No Panties'
lips.  "Uh...  yes please!  This box is wired to electrocute that
woman if I break it, so you'll have to free her so I can let myself
out."

Frigid Girl examined the cage door critically.  "A relatively simple
lock; I should have it open in thirteen seconds."  She pulled a
hairpin from a small pocket in her costume and by jiggling it about in
the lock had the door open in no time.

When Frigid Girl had carried the now-catatonic woman from the cage, the
Cheerleader with No Panties placed her hands against the walls of her
glass coffin and PUSHED.  The glass cracked and broke, big shards of
glass falling to the floor where they shattered into a million pieces.

The cage hummed, massive blue sparks dancing between the metal bars,
occasional lighting-bolts flying across the interior.  The Cheerleader
shuddered; if anyone had been inside that cage they would have been
killed instantly.

Frigid Girl was examining the woman in a manner that suggested she knew
what she was doing.  "She's in deep shock; we need to get her to a
hospital." was her diagnosis.

"Okay." said the Cheerleader.  "And we still need to catch Incest Girl-
wait.  We've stopped moving."

The rear doors of the trailer opened wide and Incest Girl stepped in.
"Tom, what's-" she started, before her eyes registered the scene before
her.  Her brother, unconcious, and two superheroes between her and him.

"It's over, Lydia." said the Cheerleader with No Panties.  "It's over."

Incest Girl's face screwed up with despair.  For a moment the
Cheerleader thought she was going to cry, and in fact a tear did roll
down her cheek - before she vanished in a puff of smoke.

"She can't go far - I'll get after her." said the Cheerleader.  "You
stay here and make sure she doesn't come back for her brother."

Frigid Girl nodded and continued to tend to the injured woman as the
Cheerleader flew out of the trailer.


The Cheerleader with No Panties' followed the sounds of muffled sobbing
to the roof of a nearby building.  Incest Girl stood on it, hugging a
chimney close to her as if it were a lover.  As the Cheerleader
alighted gently behind her, Incest Girl turned around, her tear-soaked
fact contorting into an expression of hatred.  "Stay AWAY from me you
bitch!"

"Give it up, Lydia," urged the Cheerleader in her most level voice.

But Incest Girl shouted "NEVER!" and again teleported away, leaving
only a whiff of smoke -

A foot clinked on the roof.  The Cheerleader turned around, to where
Incest Girl had rematerialised a few feet away.  "Your powers are
fading." she said.

"No...  NO!" cried Incest Girl.  "Not now!"

"You get your powers from drinking your brother's cum, don't you." the
Cheerleader continued.  "And you have to drink it; so that load he shot
in you a few minutes ago doesn't count.  I'm thinking it's quite a
while since you had your last dose."

"No...  we will go on.  You won't stop us!" Incest girl cried.  And
while she was speaking, the change happened.  It wasn't anything
physical, anything you could describe, and yet it was clearly visible
to anyone who watched.  A little less rosy in the cheeks; an aura of
power fading away.  One moment Incest Girl was standing on that
rooftop, and the next it was just plain Lydia Pritchard.  "I want Tom,"
she cried.  "He'll make everything right."


The Cheerleader with No Panties sat beside Frigid Girl on the edge of
the roof, watching the police load Tom and Lydia Pritchard into the
back of a van. The Cheerleader had already flown the kidnapped woman to
the local hospital.

"I want to apologise for earlier," said the Cheerleader suddenly.  "For
the way I acted, the things I said.  I just- freaked out.  I'm sorry."

Frigid Girl smiled gently.  "That's alright.  After all, you're only
human."

And the Cheerleader with No Panties smiled back.  "You know, you saved
me.  Before you came in, I thought this was finally it.  I thought that
a supervillain had finally beaten me."

"I don't think so.  You'd have found a way out, in the end."

"You're very generous," grinned the Cheerleader.  "Tell me...  Who are
you?  Where do you come from?"

But this caused Frigid Girl to look sad.  "I don't know, I don't
remember."

"You have amnesia?"

"My fist memory is waking up in the city dump, about two months ago."
she said.  "Before that, I don't know who I was, and I don't know how I
got these freezing powers.  I only know that I'm supposed to use them
for good.  I'm supposed to wear a costume and help people."

"Well you helped me today."  The Cheerleader looked into Frigid Girl's
bright blue eyes.  She continued, "You helped a lot of people today."
The Cheerleader ran her eyes over Frigid Girl's unblemished pale face,
her large forehead, her unnatural silver hair tied back in a
pony-tail.  "And I hope you'll stick around.  The city needs you."
She could see the swell of Frigid Girl's breasts clearly in her tight
spandex costume, right below her perfect chin, right below her pale
grey lips.  "You're beautiful."

And she leaned forward, placing a kiss on those lips, teasing them with
her tongue.  Yet the lips stayed closed, adopting the Maginot line, and
Frigid Girl gently disengaged herself from the Cheerleader's advances.

"No."

"It's okay," urged the Cheerleader with No Panties.  "Your first
time with a girl, right?  But it's like I said before; all women are
bisexual.  Just relax, and you'll enjoy it."

"No." repeated Frigid Girl.  "It's not like that.  I'm not bisexual,
I'm not heterosexual, I'm asexual.  Sex just doesn't interest me."
Frigid Girl smiled.  "Why do you think I'm called Frigid Girl?"

"Oh," said the Cheerleader, smiling the smile of one who is embarrassed
to have missed the blindingly obvious.  "Sorry."

"That's okay."  Frigid Girl extended her hand.  "Shall we be friends?"

They shook hands.  "Friends." said the Cheerleader with No Panties.
"And let the criminals of New York City beware!"

***

COPYRIGHT NOTICE: This story remains at all times the exclusive copyright
of the author known as Johnny D.  You, the reader, are hereby granted
permission to keep a private copy of this story, and to make paper copies
for your own personal use only; however, my authorship and this warning
must NOT be removed from the manuscript.  You may show this story to other
people individually.  You may NOT distribute the story publicly without
my permission.  This includes (but is not limited to): placing the story
on a web site, FTP site, mailserver; posting it to a mailing list or
newsgroup; putting it on a CD-ROM.  Do any of these without my say so and
I will be very angry.

In other words, if you want to use this story for anything, you have to
ask me first.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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