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Subject: SG3: Supergirl Breaks the Mold (CR: 10, 9, 9)
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These stories are very naughty, and since only
adults should
have naughty thoughts, you shouldn't read them if
you are
under 18 years old!
Supergirl is a trademark of DC Comics.
The entire Supergirl series and similar stories
can be found on the WWW site:
http://www.cris.com/~tooshoes/PenPartners.html
---------------------------------------------------
Supergirl Breaks The Mold
or
Supergirl and the American Way
The police had the place surrounded. Inside
the
building were thirty plus Cuban refugees. They
were mostly
men, but some of them were families. That meant
little to
the police, because the Cubans were not supposed
to be here
in America, and they were armed.
A mother in the house sent a letter to the
Daily Planet
last week to be printed in the editorial section,
penned in
Spanish. The letter said:
"To the people of the United States:
"We came here because we have no place
else to go.
We will do any job for any pay, because we
did not come
here for your jobs or for money. We came
here because
Castro wants us dead. We found a house that
no one was
using, and so we moved in. We stole some
food because
some of us were starving, but we won't
steal anything
else.
"The police told us that we had to
give up our
guns, and then they would discuss whether
we had to
return to Cuba or not, but we know that
most of us
would have to leave. So we won't give up our
guns, and
we have to defend our home.
"Antonia
Rodrigo"
The letter was never printed, but I saw it
when I
visited the Daily Planet last week. Jimmy Olsen
told me
"the Planet never prints letters unless they are
written in
English," but his eyes betrayed the ugly truth.
For the next few days, I kept a super-eye on
that
house. I didn't know if I was being overly
suspicious. I
wanted to feel foolish for not trusting the
police. But I
knew that popular opinion was against the Cubans.
When a
few days had past, and the police hadn't come, I
began to
relax and think again of America with optimism.
Someone in
charge must have had an attack of conscience, I
reassured
myself. America was welcoming the Cubans into its
bosom, and
the name "America" secured its place in my heart.
What were those words on the Statue of
Liberty? Give
me your poor, hungry and wretched ... something
like that.
America had adopted me when I was poor, wretched
and all
that, and I was truly grateful. I was happy to
fight for
"truth, justice and the American way," and for the
red,
white and blue.
But today, those grand words seemed empty,
and the only
colors I could see were shades of grey. Today, the
police
surrounded the Cubans' home, and the Daily Planet
printed an
editorial about a wave of Cuban terrorists
invading American
shores. My heart sank. The American people
didn't have x-
ray vision, so they couldn't see the suffering in
that home.
They didn't have super ears, so they couldn't hear
the fear
in the children's voices. The media were supposed
to be the
eyes and ears of America, but strangely no one
seemed
interested in the Cubans' story. Even Clark had
described
America's immigration policy as a "necessary
evil." Now, as
ready fingers leaned against triggers, and as
tear-gas
launchers were prepared for the first stage in
this small
war, I had to choose between "truth and justice"
or the
"American way."
"It's all right, Supergirl," said the female
police
officer in charge as I swooped down beside her.
Her voice
sparkled with excitement. Apparently this was her
first
command of a serious police operation, and she was
anxious
to prove herself in action. Maybe she thought I
was here to
rain on her parade. When I looked at her, I
almost felt
like I was looking into a mirror; like me, she was
nervous;
like me, she was preparing to be baptized with
responsibility. "We have matters well in hand,"
she said,
and then she looked away, perhaps hoping I would
leave.
"You mean you'd rather kill them than let me
resolve
this without guns?" I asked. My mouth filled with
a bitter
taste. I felt dizzy, and my heart raced.
The officer looked amazed. "No, of course
not. We're
going to fill the house with tear gas and force
them out.
"Let me go in," I said, "and try to talk with
them.
Maybe we can fix this peacefully."
The officer shook her head, "The time for
discussion
has ended. Now is the time for a show of force.
We need to
show the world that we take our borders
seriously."
"Why don't you just tear down the Statue of
Liberty,
then?" I said, as I set my posture. My will was
hardening.
"These people came here in desperation, and you
are just
going to turn them away?"
Her eyes opened wide. "What are your
intentions,
Supergirl."
"I am here," I said slowly, thinking out the
words
before I spoke them, "to ensure the safety of the
refugees."
Several officers were now gathering around
me. One of
them said, "Do you mean that you are on THEIR
side?"
"Yes," I said. "They only want to survive.
And I can't
allow you to hurt them."
"This really isn't your decision to make,
Supergirl.
America has decided, and we are only doing what
America
wants."
I didn't know what else to say. According to
the
media, America did seem to want the Cubans
removed, but I
knew the media wasn't telling America everything.
Even if a
fully informed America supported the police
action, I
couldn't ignore my own conscience.
I walked to a spot directly between the
police and the
Cubans' house, and I raised my right hand in a
"stop"
gesture towards the police officers.
Then, suddenly, I felt a sharp pain. I
didn't expect
anyone to shoot at me, so when the bullet bounced
off one of
my teeth, I stumbled backwards and covered my
mouth with my
hand. Most people know that bullets cannot injure
me, but
they don't know that Superman and I are very
sensitive to
pain -- that's the price of our super-senses. We
try to
hide this weakness, and we usually brace ourselves
when we
expect to be shot. But this time I was surprised,
and the
pain that exploded from my tooth was excruciating.
"Superdyke!" yelled a young officer with the
smoking
pistol. "Why don't you go back to Krypton?"
I composed myself, and I sneered at him. I
was almost
thankful to the bastard for making my decision
easier. Now
the anguish in my heart was eased, and I felt
assured that
what I was doing was right.
Before they knew what had happened, I
disarmed all
thirty officers. As they searched for their
weapons, I
transformed into Linda Lee and just walked away as
a
pedestrian.
Reporters flooded the area, and a crowd was
gathering
around the confused law enforcement officials. I
looked at
my reflection in a store window and straitened my
brown wig.
I smiled mischievously, as I looked over my
shoulder in the
window and saw the confused police officers.
A hopeful young man offered to carry my large
bag of
"groceries". I smiled at him and shook my head.
I couldn't
let him see what I really had inside the bag --
besides, I
already had a date for the evening.
Hidden beneath a canopy of treetops and
beyond an
assortment of bushes was a four room, brick
house. It sat
in a quiet neighborhood about a mile from the
crowded campus
of Metropolis University. Linda thought it was
the perfect
place for a woman who protected many secrets.
Or for two such women.
Carol Lee and Linda Lee had little in common
besides
the same last name. Carol had small breasts and
skinny
legs; but she had unblemished white skin, the
perfect face
of a doll, and shiny black hair.
She greeted Linda at the door, and glanced in
the bag.
She licked her lips when she saw the guns. "Looks
yummy,"
she said with a smile. Her smile shone like a
diamond in
the black satin of her hair.
"I had a problem with the police," Linda
said, while
placing the bag on the kitchen table.
Carol smiled even brighter. "I mean you. You
look
yummy," she whispered into Linda's ear, as she
slid the wig
from Linda's head. Linda smiled, as Carol's touch
exorcised
her worries about the police and an irate America.
Linda closed her eyes, as Carol ran her
fingers through
Linda's blonde hair.
"I've been hungry all day," Carol whispered
in Linda's
ear, "and I think its time to eat."
***
My life has changed since I met Carol a few
months ago.
I had never really thought about sex with another
woman
before, but heterosexual relationships had too
many problems
for me.
Men thought I was frigid because I wouldn't
go all the
way with them; they didn't know that my restraint
was for
their protection. Then, if I took the chance and
trusted
them with my secret, they couldn't handle it, and
the
relationship disintegrated. One of the men even
became
violent with me, strangely thinking it was a man's
duty to
subdue his woman. He was much more gentle after
breaking
his fist on my jaw, but he also lost all interest
in me.
And then there was Sam . . . but that's a
whole story in
itself.
I was Linda Lee when I had met all my male
lovers. Most
of them felt betrayed when I revealed that I was
Supergirl.
They couldn't see that the gentle and vulnerable
Linda Lee
was real, or that I truly cared for them. They
couldn't see
me as anything other than a woman whose mere
existence
undermined the traditional concepts of men. I was
grateful
to them for promising to keep my secret. But I
was
devastated, as anyone in love would be.
My love affair with Carol was different. Not
only was
she a woman, but she was attracted to the real me.
Actually, she was interested in Superman at
first. Even
now, she sometimes joked that I was really her
second
choice. Occasionally, when we made love, she would
yell out
"Oh! Oh, Superman!"
She had always been fascinated by the subject
of
Krypton, and she had tried for years to meet with
the Man of
Steel. After graduating Metropolis University two
years ago,
she had become a reporter for the Daily Planet.
The Planet
had had a reputation for always getting the scoop
on
Superman. For some reason, Clark had felt his
identity was
compromised, so he had made sure that the only
hero Carol
would ever meet was me.
So I saw Carol time and again, as I stopped a
gunfight,
prevented an accident, or just made a statement to
the
press. She quickly became my favorite reporter --
someone
who never asked a barbed question, and who was
just a
familiar, friendly face among her aggressive
colleagues.
The rest of the story is kinda boring. Over
the past
six months, we've grown closer, and eventually we
found that
we loved each other. So we became lovers, and
Carol Lee
moved in with me. We told everyone that we were
sisters,
which was easy to pull off since we both had the
name Lee.
(By the way, this wasn't a coincidence: Clark
actually was
thinking of Carol when he gave me my Earth name.)
Carol was a little crazy. She had a
fascination with
power. She thought the combination of power and
weakness
was very sexy, and she loved to play games in
which the
participants played both roles. We never had
ordinary sex.
We always played a game, and Carol always invented
the game.
Her favorite sex games involved themes of S&M and
rape, but
strangely mixed with tenderness. She had a wild
and almost
frightening imagination, but somehow sex with her
was always
intensely satisfying.
Today, she wanted to play a variation of what
she
called the Superslave Game. This was a two part
game in
which first I am tied up, and my master has her
way with me
-- then she unties me, and I must pay tribute to
her body.
She would tie my hands and feet to the bed with
rags treated
with a small amount of Kryptonite. The Kryptonite
wasn't
painful, but it numbed my skin where it touched
me, and
after about a minute, the numbing traveled
throughout my
arms and legs, paralyzing my limbs. After a little
more
time, the effects reach my mind, and I feel a
high--
something like the high people get from pot.
Sometimes I
wondered how safe this game really was, but we've
already
played it several times, and the effects wore off
as soon as
Carol untied me.
Carol seemed anxious today. She locked the
front door,
and then she led me to the bedroom.
"Don't you want to know about my problem with
the
police, Carol?" I asked, feeling we should talk
about it.
She was a reporter, after all, and she should be
interested.
Carol shook her head, and said, "Love before
business."
"But..." I started, when she stuffed my wig
in my
mouth. So I dutifully dropped myself on the bed,
and let my
master tie me up.
When we first tried this game, Carol was
tentative
about the rags, constantly asking me how they felt
and
whether I was OK. But now she really got into the
role,
tying the knots tight and staring at me with
apparent
cruelty. After securing both hands and feet, she
left the
room to change, while the Kryptonite worked on my
body.
I laid back and tried to relax. I was tense
from my
encounter with the police, and worried about
public opinion
of me once the police told their story. Then
waves of
tingling crawled down my arms and legs, and a
sense of peace
swept into my brain.
Carol returned wearing a very naughty black
teddy, and
holding a black bag that I couldn't see into even
with x-ray
vision. She had surprises in store for me. She
climbed onto
the bed, and kneeled between my legs.
Just then I realized I was fully dressed.
For this
game, I was supposed to wear clothes that were
easy to
strip. "I'm sorry, Carol," I said. "Untie me and
I'll..."
The first surprise Carol had in store for me
was a gag.
She wrapped it tightly around my head. It was just
an
ordinary piece of cloth, and I could bite it off
if I wanted
to.
"I hope these clothes don't mean much to
you," Carol
whispered in my ear, "'cause they won't won't be
worth a
nickel when I'm through!"
She could have unbuttoned the blouse, but
instead she
tore at it violently, spraying buttons in the
air. She
struggled with my skirt; apparently the fabric was
tougher
than she thought, but her determination defeated
the skirt
in short order. All that remained now between
Carol and my
flesh was the blue and red uniform.
"I'm sorry," she whispered into my ear. "I'll
make you
another one."
I tried to complain through the gag, but
Carol again
whispered, "Shhh, shhh. It'll be OK."
She reached into the black bag and pulled out
a razor
blade.
I fell silent.
She demonstrated the blade playfully, like a
child
discovering a new toy, and then she lowered the
new toy
towards my uniform. Very slowly she began to cut
my uniform
away, between my breasts, with the blade pressing
into my
skin. The pricking sensation was so acute that I
expected
to see blood, but my skin wasn't even marked.
After traveling only a few inches, she
paused. Then
she moved the blade over my left nipple, and began
to cut a
hole in the red and yellow "S". I squirmed from
the
sensation, which was a little painful and a little
exciting.
When the erect nipple was revealed, Carol tried to
excite it
further with her tongue. Then, in the midst of
pleasuring
me, she unexpectedly bit down hard on the tip. I
gasped,
and my whole body shook. Carol kissed my cheek
and consoled
me, "Shhh. It's OK." She proceeded to cut another
hole
around my right nipple, and my body tensed as she
began to
suck on it. She glanced up to meet my eyes, and
she smiled
mischievously. I shut my eyes and prepared for
her sadistic
treat, but she just suckled on the nipple, as her
hand
massaged my other breast.
Carol must have sensed me relaxing. I was not
allowed
to relax. I felt the razor now slicing into my
side,
tantalizingly slow, to enhance my pain or
pleasure. I
watched as she butchered the suit beyond repair.
Carol
kissed each inch of my skin, as she exposed it.
She began to cut the other side. Eventually,
she had
cut enough, and she just tossed the remains aside.
Then she stared at the skirt, concentrating
on the
hidden and not the revealed. Her lips twisted in
apparent
anger, as she heaved away at the elastic
waistband, and the
red cloth tore away easily. She smiled at the
thin cotton
threshold to the prize.
I opened my eyes wide as she raised the blade
again.
What was she planning? She hovered the blade
between my
legs, pretending to consider a slash, or maybe a
slow,
penetrating incision. I almost sighed when she
merely cut
the panties away at my hips.
Finally, with a wave of her hand, and a gape
of wonder,
the rest of me seemed to disappear. I was my
pussy. Carol
paused and just stared at it, and so I just stared
myself.
Maybe it was the drugging affect of the
kryptonite, or maybe
it was Carol's act of awe, but I was fascinated by
my own
pussy. The yellow hairs were tipped with red,
like the puff
of silk on a fresh ear of corn. With my legs
spread, the
lips parted slightly, like a mouth readying for a
kiss. And
I felt the heat building, a movement of blood,
like a
passionate blush.
Carol would usually touch it by now, or
perhaps taste
it. Once she shocked me by biting it. But now she
paused
and just looked. Then, with a smile, she reached
into the
black bag.
And out came an empty mineral-water bottle.
Carol had
removed the label, and had lubricated the surface
to a shiny
glean. It was just a glass dildo, now. The
outside of the
bottle had ridges, as though it was designed for
this
purpose.
Carol touched the cold tip to my thighs,
which were too
numb to respond. But as the tip moved nearer to
the center,
I began to quiver. She began to kiss my nipples
again, as
the bottle peeked inside me. She moved up to my
face, and
removed my gag with her free hand, as the bottle
probed a
little deeper. I closed my eyes, and we kissed,
as Carol
rotated the bottle. I felt my muscles compress
slightly,
and a worry crossed my mind. What if the bottle
should
break?
I tried to talk, but Carol's lips were pinned
to my
own. If the bottle broke, what would I do? It
wouldn't cut
me, but what an irritation! I tried to speak
again, but she
just pushed the bottle in deeper. Then I stopped
trying. I
was at the dawn of an orgasm, and suddenly nothing
seemed to
matter. I arched my head back, as Carol nibbled on
my neck.
My whole body shook under her harsh, knowing
touch. She did
not slow until my body relaxed, and my heart
leaped into the
sky.
At the height of my climax, as I was
beginning to
moan, and rushing towards a second climax, the
sound of
glass shattering stung my ears. For an instant, I
felt
certain that the bottle had broken. An awful
sensation grew
in my abdomen. I opened my eyes to see shards of
glass on
the bed and even on my body. But the suspected
bottle lay
innocently between my legs, whole and without a
crack. Carol
had leapt off me and stared in shock at the broken
window
beside the bed. I was stunned, but not just from
surprise.
I felt an immediate pain strike my stomach. In
about five
seconds, I had gone from ecstasy to the desire to
puke!
***
Andrew had been tense all day, but he was
just
beginning to relax when his cellular beeped.
"Damn you," he whispered into it, as he
walked down the
street, trying to look casual, like a successful
business
man or something. "This better be good."
"Sorry Andy," the little box almost seemed to
yell
back. "But some jokers have just started down the
street,
and they are bound to attract some attention.
We'd better
circle round again."
"Where are they at?" Andy asked, now more
concerned
than angry.
"They are nearing the house," Ernie replied.
"No, no, I mean the subjects."
"Oh, they are getting near the end, I think.
Ted can
barely see them, but he thinks our opportunity is
beginning
to pass. Maybe we should reschedule."
"No quits," Andrew said with as much
authority as he
could. "How many days in a row will they keep up
this game?
No, it's now or never. You don't get that many
chances with
these people."
After a pause ... "Ted thinks you should walk
faster,
then."
"Damn," Andrew grumbled, as he increased his
pace. He
whispered again into the phone, "Don't call me
back, no
matter what." And he dropped it back into his
belt.
He started counting down the houses in his
mind. Eight
to go.
He tightened his grip on the heavy little
book in his
left hand. It looked like a hard-cover novel, but
it weighed
35 pounds. Andrew wondered how conspicuous he
would seem to
someone watching, as he struggled with the heavy
book.
Four houses left.
He fingered the catch on the "book", just to
be sure it
would open. Then those guilty little thoughts
edged into his
mind. What if I'm wrong? they asked. Why am I
really doing
this? But Andrew never paused or wondered if he
would go
through with it. He learned to live with those
voices a
long time ago.
Paul was walking the other way, all grunged
up and
wearing an earring. He was holding a book like
Andrew's,
just in case.
Ernie wore a MU sweatshirt, and he carried a
MU back
pack, inside which slept the cellular phone.
Andrew relaxed a bit. They looked perfect --
just a
couple of random guys from the University,
strolling the
town. And with this feeling of confidence, he
turned down
the front walk, under the canopy of trees, towards
the
little house. He knew Paul and Ernie were pausing
to chat
behind him. Andrew turned the book in his hand,
and flipped
it open, revealing a baseball sized green stone.
With a
quick wind-up, he pitched it through the bedroom
window.
Ernie ran up past him with a gun that looked
like a
small cannon, and he blew away the front door's
lock. Paul
crashed the door down with his shoulder an instant
later.
In about five seconds, all three were in the
bedroom of
the Girl of Steel, who lay naked on the bed.
Andrew, Ernie
and Paul all stopped in their tracks and paused.
Andrew took
a deep breath, amazed that the plan went without a
problem.
He gazed almost blankly at the pussy which almost
seem to
stare back at him.
"What the hell are you doing here!" Carol
screamed.
Andrew was shaken from his trance, and he
glanced at
Ernie and Paul, who smiled with evil intent.
Andrew thought
about it for a moment, and he understood. Not
many men
could say they were in this position, standing
before the
most powerful woman in the world, who lay helpless
to their
whims. But that wasn't why they were here.
"Paul, take Miss Lee -- uh, Miss Carol Lee
into the next
room. I don't want these two together." Andrew
said, almost
yelling to get Paul's attention. He pulled a
blanket over
Linda's naked body, and then his eyes met hers.
She was
overwhelmed with pain. Andrew spoke more quietly,
"Ernie,
snap out of it and call in."
"Stop it!" Linda cried, clenching her teeth
and
struggling against the rags that held her tight.
The kryptonite stone was on the floor, less
than a foot
from the bed. Andrew slid the stone a little
further away
with his foot, and saw the pain on Linda's face
loosen its
hold a bit. He moved it yet a little further:
Linda's
muscles went limp, as she breathed deeply in
relief.
Ernie whispered to Andrew, "Are you sure
that's a good
idea?"
Andrew waved his hand in dismissal, as he sat
on the
corner of the bed and slipped a cigarette from his
shirt
pocket. He stared at the suddenly vulnerable girl
of steel
with intense regard. No, Ernie, he wasn't sure it
was a
good idea. Who knew exactly what affect the
magical green
stones had on these magical people. Who knew how
effectively
those rags binding her suppressed her powers.
Maybe even
crippled she could destroy them with her x-ray
eyes. But he
didn't feel right torturing her. They weren't
here to
punish her.
Linda met Andrew's stare directly, but Andrew
could
tell that she was overwhelmed.
Finally, she asked, "What do you want?"
Andrew lit his cigarette before replying.
"Not much,
really. We never really wanted much. But you've
gotten out
of hand."
Linda smiled slightly, apparently amused by
his
comment.
Andrew nudged the stone slightly nearer with
his foot,
and Linda noticeably tensed. He didn't like that
she felt
comfortable enough to smile.
"We've been watching you, Linda, and you
haven't lived
up to the standards we demand."
Linda's eyes turned to steel, as she
retorted, "Who
gives you the right to judge me?"
Andrew puffed casually. "The American
people. Congress
created our secret little group shortly after
Superman first
amazed the world. You could call us the Superhero
Intelligence Agency. People don't trust power
blindly, and
our job is to know everything about you, should a
problem
arise."
Linda frowned, "What do you know?"
"Oh, more than you people ever imagined," he
replied
with a prideful grin. "Superman and his childhood
in
Smallville. The secret location of the Bat Cave.
The many
wonders of the Fortress of Solitude. But we never
felt
compelled to tell the world of the secrets. We
were not
anxious to make enemies of people with your
abilities,
especially when you were fighting for what we
believed in."
Linda shook her head, "So what changed? Why
are you
here."
Andrew's face grew solemn. "YOU'VE changed.
Heroes
have to follow some standards if they want to be
seen as
heroes. Superman still lives by the motto of
'Truth,
Justice and the American Way.' Batman, while a
bit moody,
never lost sight of the people he served. But you
don't seem
to care for American law. You don't champion
American
morality. And just today you undermined a police
operation,
making our officers look like fools in the
process. You
forced our hand."
Linda looked away from Andrew, trying to
decide how to
judge herself. "I don't know, maybe you are
right. I did
break the law, and alot of people don't like what
I say and
do."
Andrew sighed and said gently, "Maybe with
time, and a
little reassurance from you of a change ..."
Linda interrupted with a little flame in her
voice.
"I'm not apologizing! I was just admitting that I
am not
the world's favorite Kryptonian. I may have
broken the law,
and I may have made the world uncomfortable, but I
have
NEVER gone against my conscience."
Andrew shook his head. "I don't know, Miss
Lee.
America is a country of laws and principles. And
we demand
an even greater standard of our heroes."
"Are you telling me to follow a law that's
unfair?"
Linda pleaded for understanding. "I can't just
watch people
suffer when I know I can help, just because of
some law!"
She closed her eyes, and fought back tears, "And
if I offend
someone, don't I have a right to free speech? I
want the
same right to pursue happiness as everyone else."
Andrew snuffed out the exhausted cigarette on
the sole
of his shoe. Linda's voice had echoed the voices
in his mind
that had bothered him throughout this mission.
"It's tough
being a hero, isn't it? Seriously, I'm trying to
understand. I'm sure you aren't always just
saving some kid
from falling out of a tree. It must be tough
deciding on
people's guilt or innocence, or whether you are
helping or
just interfering."
Linda paused, and then just said, "You don't
need to
ask me."
With a nod and a smile, Andrew pointed at her
and
whispered so Ernie couldn't hear, "I want you to
know that
I've always kinda admired you."
Linda couldn't contain her surprise.
"No, really," he continued, as he drew
another
cigarette from his pocket. "You've had a much
tougher life
than Superman had. You're a bit of a maverick,
and that's
why America is scared of you. But secretly
everyone admires
a maverick."
Linda shrugged, "Thanks, but I need more than
you're
admiration, now."
Andrew rolled the cigarette back and forth
between his
fingers, and looked out the broken window. A van
was turning
onto the main road, and heading towards the little
house. He
wished that he had more time to think things
through.
"I'm letting you go,. I hope I'm doing the
right thing."
He said as he put the cigarette to his lips. "And
I hope you
won't hold all of this against me."
Andrew reached for his lighter, when suddenly
his
cigarette lit apparently by itself.
Andrew glanced at Linda, who smiled weakly up
at him.
He felt a little shaken, but he smiled back.
***
Now I felt that I really understood what the
Cubans
went through in that house. Now maybe I truly
understood
the American Way. To America, the Cubans and I
were the
same. Cuban aliens and aliens from Krypton. Tear
gas and
Kryptonite. Communists and Lesbians. America had
no
sympathy, no due process, and no respect for human
rights.
When those three agents forcibly entered our
house, I
felt that America had betrayed me. When they
stared at me,
naked and suffering and completely at their mercy,
I saw
their thoughts in their eyes -- the desire to
rape, to
conquer, to plant the good ol' American flag in my
womb.
Thank God for Andrew, a man with some sense
and some
heart. Apparently he was also a man with some
influence.
The three agents left as quickly as they had come,
and Carol
and I were able to continue our lives with the
same privacy
that we had had before.
But I could not forgive America merely
because of the
conscience of one man. America and I were in a
state of
cold war. Every day, the media attacked my
character and my
support of the Cubans. I went on strike, refusing
to be
Supergirl, refusing to help the powers that be. I
disappeared into an anonymous college life, and I
could
frequently be seen among the revolutionary crowd.
But no
matter what I did, I still felt dead inside. It
was so
depressing, hating my country and my country
hating me.
Carol was much more forgiving than I, and she
tried to
help me see the good side of America. She
reminded me
constantly of the great humanitarian efforts, the
Marshall
Plan, and Welfare system. Blah, blah, blah. It
was all so
abstract.
Then Carol tried something kind of desperate.
I returned home from a class, as depressed as
ever. My
depression sank even deeper when I thought that
Carol wasn't
home. Sad and lonely. I went into the kitchen
and made
myself a sandwich. I wasn't hungry, though, and I
just left
it on the table. I decided to just go to sleep
and hide
from the world.
When I opened the bedroom door, Carol was
standing
there, holding one hand high over her head. She
was wearing
a Statue of Liberty costume. I couldn't suppress a
smile.
"Oh, I'm so happy to see you, Carol."
Carol pointed at me and whispered with
inviting lips,
"America needs you."
I moved into her embrace and kissed her
lips. Carol
abruptly slipped out of her robe and spread
herself on the
bed. "Its time you explored this great land of
yours,
America the Beautiful!"
I smiled and eagerly fell into her fantasy.
I donned
the appropriate dress for such an exploration, and
I climbed
up over her.
The first stop on the tour was the delta of
her neck,
where the rivers of hair on her shoulders and
breasts met
the vast ocean of hair above. I sailed along the
delta with
my lips and explored a little under the ridge of
her ear.
I could feel the tremors from a sensitive,
subterranean
fault. I decided to test this fault further by
sailing to
the delta on the other side.
Carol mischievously poked a finger between my
legs.
"Hey!" I said, smiling. "That's breaking the
rules.
I'm the explorer."
"Its just a curious little Indian, checking
out the new
visitor to the land," she replied. The little
Indian knew
exactly where to rub.
I moved out of the Indian's reach, and headed
for the
heartland. I settled on the little hill in the
north-east.
At the top of the hill was a basket of fruit, and
it seemed
like a good spot to settle. While I sucked on the
fruit and
stroked it with my tongue, I sent my hands
exploring the
world on the other side. They quickly traveled
from the
mesas to the plains, then diligently land-formed
the
southern mountain range.
The little Indian, frustrated by being
dislocated,
resettled in an area around my cheek.
Eventually, I decided to move on. I became a
pioneer,
and I slowly left trails of saliva across the vast
desert of
her body. I momentarily paused at an oasis,
dipping my
tongue into the well. The oasis was just a
glimpse of the
promised land to come.
Soon, I found myself on the edge of what
seemed like
the Everglades, except that the forest was
removed. It was
a hot, moist place. I knew there were alligators
in the
Everglades, so I detoured around it and decided to
explore
the leg of Florida first. But I never traveled
far from the
Everglades. I hovered nearer and nearer, tasting
the
moisture as I neared the border. At last, I
nuzzled the
rich, fragrant flower. At last I found the
Fountain of
Eternal Youth. Like a good explorer, I explored
the
channels with my tongue, and sought out every nook
and
cranny. I sucked on the tiny swellings and nubs,
while my
nose squeezed into the canals.
Eventually, the natives got restless, and all
ten of
them urged me into the waiting cavern, to drink
from the
fountain. I opened the cavern wider with my
fingers, and
dove my tongue into the spring within, while
massaging the
cave walls with my nose. The fountain refilled
the spring
as fast as I could drink from it. Eventually,
when the
spring was empty, I spread her lips wider,
revealing the
full glory of the cavern walls, and allowing me to
explore
even deeper and wider. Eventually the natives got
so
restless, and the firmament shook and moved so
rhythmically,
I moved to the source of the fountain's power, and
handled
it with expert care. The whole world seemed to
shake and
moan, as my tongue circled and dove, faster and
faster.
Finally, it was the Fourth of July, and I kept
circling and
diving until the last roman candle lit the sky.
It was all over too soon.
With the expedition complete, I climbed up
and laid
beside Carol, who looked over to me and smiled.
"America is
greatly in your debt."
I smiled, and said, "Those natives were
awfully pushy."
Carol rolled on top of me. "Now its time to
explore
the uncharted terrain of Krypton."
I laughed and closed my eyes, surrendering my
body to
America.
tooshoes@cris.com
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