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From: Imagineer <imagin8r47@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Cruel Summer 04 {Imagineer} (MF reluc viol exhib ScFi)
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Date: Sat, 10 Apr 2004 06:10:03 -0400
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Cruel Summer

copyright 2001-2004 by Imagineer.

comments to 
imagineer 47: yahoo green eggs com ham
but without the green eggs or ham

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Imagineer/www/


// 4: Protection


  Sapphire Protection

  Angela was exhausted. A full eight-hour shift at the fabric store, on
Saturday -- their busiest day. And she'd thought high school was hard
work... Then several more hours in the back, working on her new
costume. 

  She'd used the new bolt of stretch plastic they'd gotten. It was
super expensive, but she'd talked her boss into giving her a half a
yard for "product experience" after she'd argued that everyone would
want to know how to work with it and what they could do with it. Angela
hoped that it would solve her durability problem, being a solid sheet
of rubbery material, not a woven fabric. Unfortunately, half a yard
didn't amount to much. At first she tried making some kind of shorts
and halter-top combo, but the sewn seams split when she tried it on.
The plastic was stretchy and resiliant, but once punctured it ripped
easily. Now she had to make something out of the leftovers. She finally
settled on the simplest possible construction -- a tube top and
miniskirt with a superglued seam in back. With so little material left
to work with, she had to run it the other way, making for an
unstretched waist and bust of just under eighteen inches -- good thing
it stretched. It was barely decent, her breasts threatening to spill
out of the five-inch top and her bottom just barely covered by the
ten-inch skirt. It didn't help that it was an electric, almost metallic
blue. Clearly she couldn't go out like this; but if she covered up she
knew her forcefield would be compromised.

  As she pedaled home she had an idea. The next morning, she made a
trip to the nearest thrift store and managed to pick up an old worn-out
canvas trenchcoat. The lining was ripped out, the buttons were gone,
and one sleeve was missing, but it would do. By that afternoon she'd
removed the other sleeve and finished off the ragged edges and narrowed
the shoulders and waist. She could wrap it closed to cover herself when
she wasn't active -- a bit cliche but serviceable -- and when tied at
the waist it naturally billowed open enough to let her forcefield work
at half-strength or so without completely exposing herself. When
untied, it basically became a cape. Asthetically it demanded she forgo
the wings, but a little aerial stability could be sacrificed for her
next mission. She wished she could wear her high-heeled patent boots,
but the gems were dead on them, so she'd have to stick with the
stiletto mules.


  "Hurry up, I don't have all night." Jim felt the shove in the back as
he fished for his wallet. He recognized the voice; it sent his heart to
pounding and his hands to shaking, which didn't help his efforts to
extricate money from his front pants pocket. He looked up at Azmid
behind the counter, but the cashier just stared back with bored
disinterest.

  "Hey, faggot, quit playing with yourself and pay the man." This shove
was harder -- Jim fell against the counter, hand trapped in his pocket.
Azmid sighed, "Please sir, you are not helping." Dirk smirked as he put
up his hands in retreat, at once complying and disrespecting. "I'm just
trying to buy something," he said, bringing the hand with the six-pack
down on the counter, stepping forward and hip-checking Jim to the floor
in one ruthlessly graceful movement. 

  Azmid sighed again, looking down to see if Jim would get up. When it
became clear that Jim intended to stay where he was put for the moment,
the cashier cancelled Jim's sale and rang up Dirk's beer. "ID..." he
prompted. Dirk brought down his other hand to slide the five and the
twenty across the counter. "Mr. Andrew Jackson, pleased to meet you."
Dirk's self-satisfied smirk grew into a self-congratulatory smile
acknowledging his cleverness. Azmid remained unamused, dropping the
five in the register and stuffing the twenty in his company-issue
windbreaker pocket.

  Dirk picked up the six-pack and turned to leave, looking down in mock
disgust at Jim maintaining a low profile on the floor. Dirk nudged Jim
with his foot. "Cleanup on aisle 3," he joked to Azmid, then stepped
over Jim on his way out the door. "Catch you later, faggot," he called
over his shoulder. Jim got up.

  "You should stop letting him push you around," Azmid said as Jim
threw two dollar bills on the counter, his tone implying the scene was
entirely Jim's fault. 
  "You should stop selling him beer. I should report you."
  "Shut up, I'll kick your ass myself." Azmid threw Jim's change down
on the counter and shoved the plastic bag with the Cheetos Puffs Big
Grab and Dr Pepper. Jim took the bag and left, pausing in the doorway
to brush himself off.

  As soon as Jim passed the end of the Quick Mart building, he heard
something behind him. He knew it was Dirk. Apparently Dirk was in a
foul mood today. Jim steeled himself for another hazing as he kept
walking. "Hey, faggot, don't you wanna come over here and suck my dick?"
  "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Jim failed to check his attitude,
and immediately regretted the slip.
  Jim could hear Dirk straighten up and start walking up behind him.
"What'd you say, faggot?" Dirk's tone was ugly. Jim knew running was
pointless; Dirk was bigger, stronger, and much faster. He forced
himself to keep walking.

  "Hey, DICK." A girl's voice, from behind Dirk. Jim heard Dirk stop
and turn around; he did likewise. "Who the fuck are..." Dirk fell
silent as his eyes interrupted his mouth with an urgent message for his
jock brain.

  Standing where Dirk himself had been a moment before was a hot babe,
dressed to thrill in an open trenchcoat, tight blue miniskirt and
tighter blue halter top that shimmered under the parking lot's sodium
lamps. Her fists rested on her hips, thrust forward by her sky-high
heels. Her build and her costume seemed at odds with the attitude
oozing from her super-hero pose. Neither boy recognized the face under
the heavy makeup and framed by straight blue-black hair.

  "Who the fuck are you?" Dirk managed to finish, cocky anger surging.
  "A friend of Jim and Ricky. Leave them alone." Dirk took a
threatening step toward her; she didn't react.
  "Funny, they never mentioned you. Of course, they're probably too
busy fantasizing about each other's cocks to give you much thought." He
looked back to Jim, whose face showed confusion and fear, his eyes
darting back and forth between Dirk and the girl.

  The girl stepped right up to him, less than a foot of space between
them. Despite her heels her eyes only came up to his chin. Dirk was
tall and muscular; the girl seemed fragile by comparison. "Listen,
*Jerk*," she punctuated the name with a hard finger jab to his chest;
he staggered back a half-step. "I suggest you *leave* *them* *alone*."
Three more jabs pushed him back another step; she stepped forward to
close back the distance. Though the sodium lamps behind her kept her
face in shadow, he could see her eyes piercing his with a fierce look.

  "Back off, Bitch," Dirk spat, throwing his chest forward and
shoulders back; she flinched but didn't move. He lunged forward,
throwing his chest into hers; she fell back, but instead of landing on
her ass like he expected, she glided back a step with surprising grace
and resumed her defiant pose.

  "You think you're hot shit, don't you?" the girl asked. "Well, you're
half right."
  "Look, babe, I don't know what those two dick-lickers have been
telling you, but this is none of your Fucking business. Now step off
before I slap you into next week." With that he turned around to resume
his antagonism of Jim. He heard her heels click on the pavement; 'Good,
she's leaving.' But two clicks later she was standing to Dirk's left,
ready to insert herself between the two boys. Her tone softened. "Go
home, Dirk," she said quietly, "I don't want to have to hurt you." This
bitch was serious! Dirk couldn't believe it.

  "The problem with girls is they Just Don't LISTEN!" Dirk ended in a
shout, a swift left backhand sweeping up toward the girl's face. She
was so close it caught her on her left cheek, knocking her a half-step
to her right, drawing even with him, but she kept her footing. Her
right hand grabbed his left wrist. "I warned you," she said through
gritted teeth. Dirk felt his arm being pulled behind him. Apparently
she was trying to pin it behind his back. As slow and deliberately as
she seemed to move, apparently she was all attitude and no experience.
Dirk moved his left foot back, turning his body toward her and pulling
his left hand away from her. His muscles tensed and flexed as he swung
his right hand around, still holding the six-pack, and cold-cocked her
in the side of the head. At the same time he pulled his left arm back
sharply, spinning her around him like a viscious dance move. The
six-pack exploded, cans flying off in all directions as it impacted her
left temple; this and his yanking her right arm down sent her sprawling
to the ground. Her grip on his wrist released as she hit the pavement.
'Out cold,' Dirk thought. He turned back to Jim, who stood stunned like
a statue.

  "You're gonna pay for that, faggot," he sneered at Jim. Jim began to
backpedal as Dirk stepped toward him.

  Sapphire lay still on the ground, gathering her wits. She slowly
brought one hand up to her forehead, adjusting her tiara. Her
forcefield had saved her from injury but could only do so much to
deflect the force of the blow. Gems or no gems, she was still just a
girl of 115 pounds or so. Bulletproof and immovable weren't the same
thing. And Jesus Dirk was quick! Sapphire had underestimated his
athleticism (as much as she'd overestimated her own non-existent
fighting skill). She wiped her temple with her hand and checked it --
no blood, and she didn't feel any pain exactly. Just a little
dizziness. She shook out the cobwebs as she stood up and looked herself
over. Her skirt had hitched up one hip. She tugged it back down. And
her nipples peeked out over her top; she yanked it up, restoring the
narrow stretchy band of plastic to covering the middle half of her firm
breasts, curves evident both above and below the tight blue band. Both
wristbands were still intact. Sapphire looked up; Jim had retreated
some twenty yards across the parking lot, and Dirk was looming over
him. She heard the Thud! of the first gut-punch as she saw poor little
Jim double over. Dirk raised both hands over his head to deliver a chop
to the back...

  "Hey!" she yelled. Dirk froze. He looked at her, the anger giving way
to disbelief as he watched her get back on her feet. "I'm not finished
with you yet," she seethed.

  What the hell? He expected her to be out cold. He expected her face
to be swollen and bruised from the six-pack he belted her with. (He
hadn't meant to do that, but she grabbed him and he reacted instantly
without thinking. Served her right, though.) He expected her to be
crying home to daddy. But there she was, standing there looking tough,
ready for more, and without a scratch on her.

  Dirk shoved the still-bent-over Jim, who fell to the ground with a
grunt. Straightening up, Dirk turned to face her. "Go home, you stupid
cunt. This is between me and the faggot." This was supposed to be a
quick beating before going back home for a night of beer and pirated
satellite porn. Then she had to butt in. "Go home before I hurt you."
He flexed his muscles to punctuate the threat.

  The girl crouched slightly, her gorgeous legs flexing. Dirk's
football experience told him what would happen next: her stance and the
way her hips moved she would leap into a run toward him. But his
instincts weren't calibrated for what he saw next. She leapt into the
air, higher than he expected based on her size and the handicap of her
high heels. And she kept rising. And coming toward him. Like she'd
bounced off a trampoline. His head kept tilting back as his eyes
followed her impossible progress.  Her sleeveless long coat flaring out
behind her like a superhero's cape, long black hair swept back, both
tracking upward, indicating her descent. The tiny girl 20 yards away
was now looming over him, arms up, one leg straight down, the other
bent at the knee and pulled up underneath her, like that chick in The
Matrix just before she kicked that cop... he thought he saw her
panties...

  Sapphire had misjudged her leap. Too low, too fast. She'd intended to
land in front of him with a quick kick to the nuts. Instead she reached
him still four feet off the ground, her kick landing squarely in his
chest, driving him backwards right in her path. She was coming too fast
to get her feet clear of him. He landed hard on his shoulder, and she
landed hard on top of him, their legs tangled.

  Dirk couldn't breathe. His whole body was numb from the impact. This
little girl on top of him couldn't weigh more than 125 pounds, but she
hit him so fast, and he hit the pavement so hard, it knocked the wind
out of him. Before he could recover, she'd grabbed his wrists and
slammed them to the ground.

  Dirk had been tackled before -- pavement wasn't much harder than
artificial turf. Numbness gave way to full-body pain which gave way to
adrenaline. He raised his arms...

  Or not. Even with all her weight pressing down on his wrists, he
should have been able to lift her up by the arms -- he bench-pressed
cheerleaders as a warm-up before every game -- but it felt like his
arms were pinned under a truck.

  He bucked his hips and kicked his legs, trying to throw her off him.
She rode him like a cowboy on a wild bull, her knees gripping his
thighs. He felt her ample chest bouncing on his. All the while his
wrists felt nailed to the ground.

  Sapphire held on for all she was worth, all the while using her
gem-force to hold his wrists down. She pointed her feet up into the air
behind her, using gem-force to push back down each time Dirk bucked.
She felt her miniskirt inch up to her hips. Her breasts bounced up and
down violently. Her knees smacked the pavement repeatedly as Dirk
kicked and bucked. She felt her coat flap up and down, caressing her
backside and the backs of her legs. She couldn't see straight. After
nearly a minute, Dirk stopped, breathing hard.

  Dirk lay there motionless, staring hate into this... gorgeous girl's
eyes. Her long black hair hung down around her face, but he could see
her piercing blue eyes as if they glowed.

  "You're going to leave Jim and Ricky alone from now on, right?" She
seemed to press his wrists right into the pavement as she said this;
Dirk hoped his wrists weren't broken.

  "Yeah, whatever," he acquiesced.

  Sapphire relaxed her legs, and began to push herself up off him. Then
suddenly, she found their positions reversed, she pinned to the ground
on her back and he on top of her. Dirk had levered her over with his
legs, too quickly for her to realize what was happening until it was
too late. Sapphire unleashed a bolt of force, but all she could do was
knock the top off the garbage can at the other end of the parking lot.

  Dirk lay there, all of his weight pressing down on her. The girl
flailed her legs and pushed weakly against his hands holding down her
arms; he could hear her high heels scratching for traction. His crotch
pressed against hers; he felt himself swell against her warmth.

  Sapphire squirmed underneath him. She was powerless in this position;
her movements only served to grind herself against his hardening rod.
And her body was beginning to respond to the stimulation. He leered at
her. "You like that, don't you slut?"

  Her trenchcoat was twisted to one side. With her skirt rucked up
around her hips, her tissue-thin panties perforated against the rough
pavement as she struggled. She felt her heel slip off one shoe as a
string unraveled. Her heart skipped a beat; she could ill afford to
lose a shoe now. She stopped struggling.

  Dirk brought her hands together over her head, pinning both wrists
down with one big paw. He leaned his weight into that hand; she tested
him briefly but realized she couldn't break free from the strong
weighted grip of the football star. Being almost a foot taller than his
would-be attacker had its advantages...

  Now he had one hand free. Predictably, he grabbed and rubbed
Sapphire's breasts. He tugged clumsily at her stretch plastic tube top,
but it clung to her skin so tightly he couldn't quite get it worked
down all the way from this awkward angle. He resumed squeezing,
watching her face for her reaction. Sapphire squirmed a bit; despite
her look of hate her nipple hardened at Dirk's rough pinches.

  His rock-hard cock nestled up against the slut's moist lips felt
good. "Baby, we should be fucking, not fighting." He thrust up against
her, slowly, with an increasing range of motion.

  Sapphire felt a flash of heat run through her. This wasn't good. She
had to focus. She had to take control of the situation. That's what a
superheroine would do.

  She felt the pressure on her wrists lessen slightly with each of
Dirk's thrusts. She began slipping one hand out a little bit with each
cycle. She almost had it free when Dirk stopped suddenly. He stiffened
up. She felt a wetness down below that wasn't her own. Looking up at
him she saw Dirk's eyes lose focus momentarily.

  The girl yanked her arm out, freeing it. Dirk's eyes opened wide in
surprise and anger, but not fear. What could she do, slap him? He could
take it. Unfortunately, it was her right arm -- the wrong side, he
couldn't grab it because his opposing hand was holding her other arm
down. Then it occurred to him that girls fight dirty; she might try to
claw his eyes out. He brought his free hand up above her head to switch
her restrained wrist from one hand to the other so he could grab her
free arm.

  Sapphire balled her hand into a fist and slammed it into his ribcage.
 From her position she couldn't have put much speed into the punch, but
her gem's force augmentation lifted Dirk right off the ground. His grip
on her other hand slackened. His eyes looked like they'd fall right out
of his head as the air left his lungs forcefully. His throat made a dry
deflating sound. The jock collapsed on top of her, his stomach muscles
quivering. He took a half-gasp, his face contorting with pain. Sapphire
gathered her hands under his sagging chest and bench-pressed him off
her violently; he flew up in the air like a marionette jerked up off
stage and crumbled to the ground between her feet. 

  The heroine quickly got to her feet and took a step back; she
wouldn't let him get close to her again. Dirk slowly rolled back and
forth, gasping for breath; he was sure his ribs were broken. His coach
was going to kill him, if his dad didn't kill him first.

  "Get up and fight like a man," she taunted. He slowly reassembled
himself, getting up to one knee, pausing to let the bolt of pain in his
side fade. "I give," he said through clenched teeth.

  "Did you leave Ricky or Jim alone when they asked you to?"
  "Yeah..."
  "Liar!" she taunted. "But you're going to leave them alone now,
aren't you?"
  He said nothing as he got to his feet, a shooting pain taking his
breath away.
  "Aren't you?" Sapphire repeated.
  "You can't protect them all the time," he said weakly.

  She pointed both fists at him and blasted him back off his feet,
fifteen feet out of the parking lot and into the gutter. He lay there,
motionless, a barely-audible groan the only indication that he was
still alive. 

  Sapphire floated across the parking lot, landing on the sidewalk in
front of him with twin clicks of her heels. She hadn't meant to hurt
him so bad, but he hadn't given her a lot of options. She called over
her shoulder. "Jimmy?" She turned to look for him. He stood, still
clutching his stomach, staring in amazement. Sapphire realized that her
gravity-defying move was hard to explain. "Jim, come here and help Dirk
to his feet." She wasn't going to take any chances getting close to
Dirk herself, even in his current broken condition.

  Jim stood next to her, looking down at Dirk. "Wow, you really busted
him up." Looking her over: "Are you okay?" Amazing -- other than a
little dirt on her knees and elbows and a few hairs out of place, she
looked ready for a night of clubbing. Jim stared hard at her face for a
long moment, looking for some sign that Dirk had hit her; he found none.

  "What?" Sapphire asked when she noticed Jim staring.
  "Well, I was gonna say you should get some ice on that eye to keep it
from swelling, but it doesn't look like Dirk hit you at all."
  "It was a glancing blow," Sapphire lied. Jim looked unconvinced.
"Yeah, whatever," he responded.

  Jim bent down to help Dirk up.
  "Don't touch me, faggot," Dirk wheezed. "I'm fine." He coughed. He
got up, one halting limb at a time. His torso crooked to one side; he
would be hurting for a while. Without another word, he turned and began
limping home.

  "Don't ever touch Ricky or Jim again," she called after him, "unless
you want to get your ass kicked by a *girl* again!"

  When her adrenaline subsided, she turned to Jim. "Let me walk you
home," she said.
  "Who are you? Did Ricky put you up to this? You a friend of his?"
  "A friend of a friend.Call me... Sapphire."
  Jim saw the streetlight sparkle off the baubles on her high heeled
shoes as they walked. "Oh, I get it."
  They continued in silence for half a block.
  "Listen," Jim said finally, "thanks for what you did, but you really
don't have to get involved."
  "I don't mind." Her unsecured right shoe keep slapping the bottom of
her foot as she walked.
  "Really, don't. He'll hurt you."
  "Do I look hurt?"
  "No, but he had you pinned. He could have killed you."
  "Doubt it. Besides, he's not the killing type."
  "Well anyway, thanks but no thanks. I don't want you to get hurt
because of me. He'll just find me later anyway. He's not usually this
bad."
  Sapphire was unconvinced. "He'll leave you alone if he knows what's
good for him."
  "No he won't. He doesn't like being told what to do. Especially not
by a girl."
  "We'll see."
  "Anyway, I just try to avoid him. Most of the time he just pushes me
around a little. It's not so bad."
  "It's not right."
  "That's life. I'm used to it. I have to be. Another month, he'll be
too busy with football to have much time for me."
  "If he's recovered from tonight by then."
  "Well, thanks, but really, don't interfere. It'll just make him
worse."
  "I can handle Dirk."
  "If you say so."
  "Trust me. Tonight he got lucky. I was careless. I won't make the
same mistake next time."


  Dirk's head hurt. Did he get hit without a helmet again? He started
to get up, but stopped on his hands and knees; his head swam in
dizziness. As he waited for the world to stop swaying, the events
leading up to his current condition came back to him.

  He was on the floor in his room. He'd collapsed there after limping
home. Some... *girl* had beaten him up. Some kind of kung-fu slut. It
wasn't fair, ambushing him like that. But he'd be ready for her if she
dared show her face around him again. And as for Jim and Ricky... there
were gonna pay.

   


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