Fuchsia Fox: "Broken Wings - Part I", By Centurion

[flirty_but_nice]

Fuchsia Fox: "Broken Wings - Part I"
By Centurion


Chapter 1 -- Fairfax, Virginia


A crowd of students and interested onlookers had gathered on the campus of George Mason University, dressed casually and enjoying the sunny afternoon as they listened to people speaking from the platform set up near the athletic field. It might almost have been a holiday if not for the protest signs scattered here and there, most aimed at immigration issues. Fairfax County was what is known as a "sanctuary county", ignoring most requests for deportation by ICE, the Immigration Control and Enforcement agency, unless the immigrant in question was guilty of a crime. At the moment, an attractive young political science major named Elaine Adams was speaking heatedly in opposition to the travel bans against Muslims ordered by the current U.S. President, and the crowd clearly agreed with her sentiments.

The protest rally was a peaceful one. Two campus security patrol cars were parked at the edge of the parking lot as a formality, the guards lounging against a nearby tree. A couple of television news cameras were covering the event. No one expected any trouble.

Just then, two dark green helicopters swooped in and hovered overhead. Their bodies were sleek and undecorated, with no markings or registration numbers. The crowd looked up, murmuring uneasily among themselves.

With a flash of light and a sound like rolling thunder, six armed men abruptly appeared from thin air on the speaker's platform. They were all dressed in hunter green military uniforms with body armor and black harnesses over them. Each wore a red patch on his right shoulder with the single word, "Guardsmen". Four of them unslung compact machineguns from their shoulders and aimed them at the crowd.

Elaine Adams was too astounded at first to say anything. The leader of the Guardsmen, Colonel Magruder -- the only one not wearing a mask -- strode forward and pushed the girl roughly aside.

"You've had your say, missy," he growled. "Now let a real American talk."

"You have no right to do this," Elaine protested boldly, but two of the Guardsmen grabbed the girl's arms on either side and lifted her off her feet, letting her long legs dangle. Seeing this, the crowd grew restive, shouting out in protest.

"SHUT UP!" Magruder yelled. Immediately the two hovering helicopters opened fire with machinegun pods, aiming at the two security patrol cars. The security guards themselves dove for safety as the vehicles went up in flames. The spectators screamed in panic, but the aircraft tilted their guns downward as if to make it clear that they would be cut down if they tried to run. The crowd huddled together like cattle, uncertain what to do.

"That's better," Magruder said, snatching the microphone off the lectern. "I've had about as much whining from you terrorist-lovers as I can take! You make me sick! We've got wetbacks and towelheads pouring across our borders in hordes and you just want to give this country away to them? It's time you woke up! The President is doing his best to make America great again, and all you wusses can do is whine and complain! Well today that stops! America belongs to Americans, and the Guardsmen are taking it back! All you Liberals, queers, and feminazis can kiss my ass if you don't like it!"

The crowd fell into a shocked silence, the camera crews edging closer to pick up every word. One person spoke. "What... what are you going to do?" Elaine Adams asked in a small voice, still held in between the two Guardsmen.

"The only thing that seems to get through to people these days," Magruder said grimly, as the other three men on the platform, still aiming their machineguns at the crowd, pulled back their cocking levers.

Suddenly the two helicopters whirled around to face to the east, each of them firing off a missile which streaked away and exploded a hundred feet off. Magruder clicked his communications earpiece. "What's going on?" he demanded.

Before any reply could come, a reddish-purple streak slammed into the body of the first helicopter just below its rotors. The aircraft tilted over, floundering, its engine sputtering wildly as it limped away from the collision, badly damaged.

The streak resolved itself into a stunningly beautiful young woman, her short brunette hair dancing around her creamy bare shoulders as she hovered in mid-air with her arms outstretched like an angel's wings. Her graceful, supermodel-worthy legs were bare except for reddish-purple ankle boots, her slender arms clad in the same color elbow length gloves. Her heavenly body was sheathed in matching tight, clingy boy-shorts and a halter top, showing a fox head chest emblem hugging the contours of her pert young coconuts.

"The Fuchsia Fox! Shit!" Magruder cursed.

The crowd cheered the sexy young superheroine's appearance. The second helicopter opened fire with its machinegun pod, the bullets pinging off the alluring girl's invisible force shield before she could evade them. The Fox answered with an energy beam which lanced out from her outstretched hand, clipping the rotors and practically sheering them off. The aircraft wobbled alarmingly as it spun out of control. The heroine darted forward, grabbing hold of its tail section to hold it steady. Spinning around in the air, the Fox gave a mighty heave and tossed the helicopter over toward the athletic field, where it would crash without harming anyone.

"Cover me!" Magruder ordered, as he unhooked a pack from one of his men's back.

Elaine Adams let out a squeak of fright as the Guardsmen dropped her rudely to the platform, aiming their guns at the oncoming superheroine. The girl curled up in a frightened ball, covering her ears against the deafening racket of their automatic weapons fire.

But the Fox swept down straight through the fusillade and landed on the platform, tearing into the five men like a whirlwind, slamming one of them twenty feet with her first punch. At close quarters, the next two swung their guns like clubs. The spunky young heroine ducked and spun like a dancer with a kick and a right jab, her boot and her fist thudding into the men's body armor as she dropped them.

The last two drew stun rods and jumped her. ZAP! ZAP! The twin electrically charged prods on the business ends of the rods sparked against the Fox's force shield, momentarily driving the spunky girl back. Steeling herself, the Fox charged. Block, punch, parry, punch. Her assailants could barely keep up with her as the stunning super-lady slipped past one man's guard, snaking her exquisite arm around his neck so that she could flip him off the platform, following through smoothly with a flying kick which slammed both feet into the other's chest.

"Alright, Magruder," the heroine said. "The party's over."

"Stand back, Fox!" the Guardsmen leader warned, taking a step back from the object he had unpacked. It was a black canister approximately the size of a two-gallon propane tank. "This little beauty is a dirty nuclear bomb! It has an effective radius of two miles, and in exactly one minute it's going to go off and contaminate the whole area with lethal radiation."

The Fox froze. Sure enough, on the top of the canister was the ever-popular red LED timer, displaying "00:01:00", and then rapidly beginning to count down.

The heroine licked her lips. "That's crazy, Magruder, even for you!"

"Maybe so," the terrorist conceded. "But it will wipe this so-called 'sanctuary city' off the map. Maybe that'll make people think twice. Good luck picking up the pieces."

Abruptly he turned a dial on the front of his black harness and punched it. There was a blinding flash of light and a sound like rolling thunder, and Magruder seemed to step through an invisible doorway into someplace else. His teleportation harness!

The Fox looked around, wishing that she had moved fast enough to stop him. The other five Guardsmen had done the same thing, leaving her alone on the platform with the ticking bomb.

"Did... did he say that was a bomb?" Elaine Adams asked timidly, her eyes wide with terror.

"Don't panic," the Fox said, dropping to her knees in front of the device. "I've got this under control." The LED was just approaching the 30 second mark.

"Are you sure?" Elaine asked, her voice quavering.

The casing appeared to be sealed, leaving no exposed wires or jacks to be pulled. The heroine started to unscrew the top, but then stopped. That might not be a good idea, since it could very well be booby-trapped. The timer passing 20 seconds now.

Oh hell. The Fox picked up the bomb and shot straight upward like a rocket, pouring on the speed. When she judged that she had gone at least three miles, the superheroine threw the bomb upward as hard as she could. Her brown eyes followed the arc of the missile upward as she silently counted down, then she concentrated on her golden bracelets of Ishtar, drawing as much power from those two amazing alien artifacts as she possibly could, reinforcing her force shield.

BLAM! The explosion itself seemed a bit of an anti-climax. But then a shimmering cloud of drifting colors burst out of the center of the blast like glittering confetti. A second later, the shock wave hit the Fox like a solid wall, buffeting and spinning her sylph-like body like a leaf in a hurricane. Overcome with vertigo, the sassy superheroine lost control of her flight, spiraling downward and downward until she quite suddenly and unexpectedly impacted with the ground, making a Fox-shaped impression on the soft earth of the university field.

Spectators gathered around the beautiful super-babe, her smooth, delicious body lying spread-eagled and defenseless on the grass, completely unmoving. Many were taking snapshots with their phones. "Is she dead?" someone whispered. "If she is," another voice answered, "I got dibs on the body."

Suddenly the Fox's lungs expanded with a gasp, her succulent breasts rising and falling. "Fox!" Elaine Adams shouted, rushing to her side as the fuchsia-clad girl sat up shakily. "Are you alright?"

"Oh sure," the heroine said, drawing up her luscious legs and giving her a reassuring smile. "I do this kind of thing all the time. I told you I had it under control."


***


Chapter 2 –


The next morning, Jennifer Fletcher awoke with the sunlight pouring through the east-facing windows of her apartment. Her lean young body stretched luxuriously under the sheets, hugging her pillow to her. After about twenty seconds, she realized that the other half of her bed was empty and she sat up, running one hand through her tousled brunette hair.

"Hey, I brought you coffee," said her husband Martin, coming in from the kitchen already dressed in his U.S. Army uniform.

"Thanks, darling," Jennifer said, sitting up and letting the sheet fall away from her breasts as she accepted the hot cup with both hands. "What time is it?"

"Seven thirty," Martin said. "Are you sure you don't want to sleep in today?"

"I'm perfectly fine," the brunette replied. "I've taken worse hits than that. My force shield protected me as it always does."

"Thanks to you, the airburst was so high up that the radiation dispersed harmlessly before it reached the ground. But you were right there next to it. Most people would take a sick day if they'd just lived through a tactical dirty nuke."

"I'm not most people," Jenn smirked. "Anyway, the paramedics checked me over--"

"And I'll bet they're still bragging about that to the other guys down at the fire station," Martin inserted with a wink.

"--and they even used a Geiger counter," his wife continued. "No residual radiation. I'm fine."

"Okay," he conceded. "I've got to run." He leaned over and gave her a burning kiss that made her nipples stiffen with warm arousal, before taking his leave.

Jennifer finished her coffee and tossed aside the sheets, scrambling out of bed and heading for the shower. She passed the dresser where her bracelets of Ishtar lay gleaming in the sunlight coming through the window, and if the alien metal seemed to have a faint hint of a glow around it, the brunette was too focused on getting ready for work to notice.


***


Jennifer dressed in a light blue U-neck top and a matching paisley maxi-skirt. Of course, everybody at the National Archives was talking about the terrorist attack the day before. The news programs, when she had time to look at them, were even running parts of Magruder's tirade. The Guardsmen had hardly been heard from in nearly two years, not since their attack on the Channel 3 television station, and everyone was wondering out loud what had made them crawl out of the woodwork now. Even the President had sent a tweet to the effect that, scumbag though Magruder may be, there were undoubtedly some decent people in the group. Jenn herself was too busy to give it much thought.

And so the workday passed. Jenn left the building at six thirty that evening, already talking on the phone to her husband as her high heels clicked down the rear staircase. "No special projects pending for once, so I'm on my way home," she said. "How about you?"

"I'm about to start dinner," Martin answered. "Is tacos and salad alright with you?"

"Sure, that's fine," Jennifer said. It was already growing dark out, and streams of traffic were flowing past on the street. She crossed along with a bunch of other pedestrians heading for the Metro station. "Barbara Wright is on that trip to the U.K., isn't she?"

"Yeah, the seminar on counter-terrorism. She doesn't get back until next Monday."

"Okay, good," Jenn said. That meant that her sparring practice was cancelled for this week. "See you in a few."

As she clicked off her phone, however, the gorgeous young brunette, always alert to her surroundings, happened to notice a family of tourists -- two men, two women and an attractive younger girl of about seventeen -- across the street taking photographs of the Navy Memorial. That was hardly unusual, but Jenn also spotted a couple of young men loitering by one of the fountains, listening to music on their ear-pods. They looked about eighteen or nineteen years old, dressed in jeans and sweatshirts. Jenn couldn't have said what had drawn her attention to them, but when the tourists walked on down the sidewalk, one of the guys nudged his friend and together they quietly began to follow the family up Pennsylvania Avenue. At the corner they all turned up 9th Street, heading in the direction of the Convention Center.

Jenn let out a sigh. It hurt her to think the worst of people, but at the same time you couldn't be too careful. If it turned out that the boys were really just innocently walking the same way, it would be no big deal. At least she would save subway fare. But where could she change?

Her long maxi-skirt was a little awkward as Jenn trotted around the fountains of the Navy Memorial. On the other side was 8th Street and the Capitol One and Wells Fargo Banks, which meant CCTV cameras all over the place. Instead she dashed up the steps and through the columns of the monument itself. Once she was out of sight, Jenn concentrated. The bracelets of Ishtar on her wrists let out a small burst of light as all of her clothing vanished, replaced by her brightly colored Fuchsia Fox costume -- briefs, halter top, gloves and all.

Normally the transition was instantaneous or practically so. This time, though, there was a perceptible lag of perhaps two seconds, during which Jennifer had time to feel a distinct breeze wafting between her legs and onto her naked tush, giving her goosebumps before her costume materialized around her body.

The superheroine's cheeks flushed, but there was no time to worry about it now. Quickly the Fox kicked off from the sidewalk and skimmed over the intervening rooftops, swerving in a wide arc around the block.

Meanwhile the teens had been following behind the strolling tourists, waiting until they were passing a line of brownstone buildings before speed-walking forward to overtake them. "Hey mister!" one of the punks called, holding a cigarette between his lips. "Can I borrow a light?"

"I don't smoke," one of the male tourists answered back nervously over his shoulder. The other man shook his head. The two women instinctively drew together in a defensive huddle with the girl between them as the boys drew nearer. Traffic was passing by on the street, oblivious. At that point a third punk appeared in front of them blocking their path.

"How about a little cash then, gramps?" the mugger said, cocking the nickel-plated automatic pistol he was carrying. "Or jewelry or credit cards; we ain't that picky."

"Hey that's a nice watch," the punk who had asked for a light said, grabbing at the other man's arm. "Is that a Rolex?"

"Maybe we'll take the chick, too," grinned the third mugger, reaching out toward the girl, who shrank back in fright into the arms of the older women.

Suddenly the Fuchsia Fox landed lightly on the sidewalk. "That's enough, boys," the stunning superheroine smirked, planting her hands on her gorgeous hips. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

The punk with the gun whirled, aiming point blank at her chest emblem. "Why don't ya stay out of my business, babe?"

The Fox was expecting something of that nature. Before he could squeeze the trigger, the spunky super-girl dodged to her left, spinning with a graceful roundhouse kick that knocked the gun out of his hand, following through with a left-right combination that drove the punk backward, sprawling across the steps of the brownstone.

"Let me at her," grinned the punk with the cigarette, tossing it aside as he rushed her. The Fox evaded his charge, deflecting his groping hand and catching his wrist in a judo hold. To her surprise, he didn't go flying on top of his friend as she intended. Not only was he able to resist her attempt to throw him, he reversed the cocky superheroine's hold, twisting her lissome arm behind her.

What the Hell? Jennifer was thinking, for a moment completely befuddled. But she hadn't been trained in martial arts by Barbara Wright for nothing. Her left elbow arced upward and back, smacking her attacker in the jaw, breaking his hold and allowing her to execute a hip throw. The boy landed flat on his back, momentarily dazed, but as mad as a hornet. "Grab the bitch, Tim!" he shouted.

The Fox took a couple of steps backward, blundering right into the third hoodlum. His arms wrapped around her sleek, scantily-clad body, pinning her arms to her sides as his hands groped at her nubile breasts.

"Shit, bitch," the boy grinned, squeezing her left boob with his face right up against hers. "You look a lot tougher on TV. Is that all just hype?"

The tourists took their chance to slip through a gap in the traffic, escaping to the other side of the street. At least they were safe. Meanwhile the Fox squirmed and struggled, breaking out of her captor's clutches and turning on him with a flurry of left-right/left-right punches that sent him tumbling to the ground. This was ridiculous! Normally one or two of her punches were enough to knock most men out, and yet these kids were taking three or four. And her knuckles were beginning to ache!

The other two were already back on their feet, the first punk picking up his fallen gun. The Fox spun around in a flash and charged...

BANG! The sassy superheroine felt the searing impact of the bullet on her ribcage, forcing the air out of her lungs and throwing her slim body backward five feet to land flat on her pert little butt. Her force shield had stopped the bullet as it always did, but somehow the full force of its kinetic energy had still gotten through to her. Her ribs felt bruised.

"Hey, what do ya know?" the gunman gloated. "It's looks like bullets can hurt this bitch after all."

Flat on her back, the Fox struggled to catch her breath. The mugger stood over her, this time with the gun aimed at her head. Numb with shock, she blurted out, “Please, no ...”

The punk fired again, the bullet defecting off the young heroine’s forehead. Although again protected by her force shield, the impact sent her head slamming hard into the unforgiving concrete sidewalk, very nearly knocking her out.

"Come on, Leroy!" the mugger said to his companion, tucking the gun into the waistband of his trousers. Before the Fox knew it, both punks had seized her arms on either side, lifting her slim, lightweight frame off the ground and hustling the limp superheroine off the sidewalk, pinning her bare back against the rough brownstone wall.

"Well, what have we here?" the punk sneered, his clammy hands caressing the exposed skin of her midriff. "We done captured little Miss Fuchsia Fox. Ain't that something?"

"Unnnnnn..." the heroine moaned, feeling dazed and confused as she squirmed helplessly in the combined grasp of both of them.

"I betcha she's real juicy under this costume, Johnny," the other punk grinned, as together they grabbed the lower edge of the Fox's halter top and pulled it up and over her chest, exposing her heavenly pair of coconuts. "I betcha she's just like a regular girl down where it counts, too."

The Fox couldn't speak, her mind full of fog and cobwebs. Her pulse was racing, her nipples rising up like little bullets as the boys fondled her pliant, exposed globes. To her dismay, not only had her nipples become hard, but she felt an unwanted moistening of arousal between her legs. Thankfully, though, from out of nowhere it seemed, she heard the welcome sound of an approaching police siren.

"Oh crap! Somebody must have reported the gunshots," Leroy said. "We'd better vamoose." Tim was recovering now, getting to his feet.

"I'd sure love to hang around and fondle you some more, babe," Johnny said, giving the Fox's right boob another squeeze. "Hey, how's about a souvenir?" The punk grabbed hold of the heroine's left wrist and began tugging at her bracelet of Ishtar.

Jennifer's heart pounded in near panic. What if he managed to take it off of her? Jennifer tried to concentrate, not accidentally slipping up and granting mental compliance in his attempt to undo her bracelet. Meanwhile the police sirens drew louder and closer.

“Shit, Johnny! Hurry up, man!” Leroy urged, nearly dancing with anxiety. Hoping to hurry things along, he began pulling and tugging at the bracelet on her other wrist!

Oh no! the Fox thought in shock, struggling to contend with both of them trying to remove her power bracelets. This is like some kind of nightmare!

"Crap, it must be locked or something," Johnny said. "Fuck it.”

Not hearing the nearly imperceptible sound of the hidden latches on the Fox’s bracelets releasing, the three muggers let go, turned and ran off down the dark alley between two buildings, letting the Fox fall to the ground. The heroine struggled painfully to her knees, one hand rubbing the knot on the back of her head where she had hit the sidewalk.

A District of Columbia Metropolitan Police car screamed to a halt on the street. The Fox quickly tugged her halter top back down, re-locked her power bracelets, valiantly pulling herself together and getting ready to make up some excuse for the police officers. But foremost in her mind was the big question of what was going on with her bracelets of Ishtar!


***


Chapter 3 –


Martin Fletcher had the tacos and the salad ready. He grabbed a beer from the fridge as he checked his watch. What was taking Jenn so long?

A cold breeze momentarily blew through the apartment from the bedroom where the balcony was, but Jennifer herself didn't appear. Martin strolled into the bedroom to find his beautiful wife sitting on the edge of the bed in her Fuchsia Fox costume, looking down at her hands.

As always, the sight of her in that sexy, clingy, two-piece costume made his blood stir. He could feel his cock getting pleasantly tight with longing for her body. But at the same time, it was not lost on him that she seemed to be upset. Quickly he tried to pull in the reins on his libido. "What's the matter, Angel?" he asked with concern, sitting down beside her.

Jennifer immediately jumped to her feet, restlessly pacing back and forth. For a moment Martin watched her classy legs, her pert derriere looking so hot in those taut boy-shorts.

"Martin, I think I'm in trouble," she said nervously. "I just had my butt kicked by three teenage muggers."

Her husband frowned. "How did it happen? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine now," the Fox admitted, reaching up to rub the knot on the back of her head. "I had a slight problem at first drawing strength from my bracelets, but even so I was starting to get the better of them. Then one of them shot me. Right here." She touched the spot on her ribcage where the bullet had struck.

Martin got off the bed, setting his beer down on the dresser as he kneeled in front of her to examine her lean torso minutely. There was no tear in the fabric of her halter top, but when he looked underneath, he could see a bruise in her tender flesh.

"It knocked me flat on my ass," Jennifer confessed, her cheeks flushing rosily. "I was helpless. They picked me up and yanked up my top and fondled my breasts. They even tried to get my bracelets off. I couldn't seem to do a single thing to defend myself."

The image of the Fox overpowered and defenseless would normally have been pretty erotic to Martin, but this time it was different. "Hey, don't panic," he said, snaking his hands around Jenn's slim waist and pulling her into his arms. "We'll figure it out."

"Figure it out?!" Jennifer blurted, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears. "What is there to figure out? Do you realize what this means? What if my force shield goes out entirely in the middle of a fight?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Martin urged. "We don't know that's going to happen." He could feel the superheroine's body trembling against his. She was really spooked. After some initial reluctance, she rested her head submissively against his broad shoulder, her face in the crook of his neck.

"You were exposed to a nuclear blast yesterday," Martin pointed out, his fingers rubbing gently and soothingly up and down her bare back. "Remember the time you were struck by lightning, and your bracelets shut down temporarily? Could this be the same thing?"

"That time they shut down entirely," Jennifer said, shaking her head. "This time they're working, they're just not generating enough power. Let me show you."

The girl slid from his embrace and turned to the dresser. Full of clothes, it must weigh something like four or five hundred pounds. Jenn gripped it awkwardly on either side and started to lift. With an effort, she managed to hoist it two feet off the floor, but it was wobbling. Martin grabbed his beer bottle before it tipped over.

"See what I mean?" Jennifer said, setting the dresser down again.

Martin could remember her picking up a fully loaded city bus last winter during the big blizzard, but he sense this was not the time to remind her of that.

"Jenn, you're still at least twice as strong as an average man," Martin said. "Oscar couldn't pick that thing up the way you just did, and he’s an animal when it comes to lifting weights."

Jennifer let out an impatient sigh, as if Martin wasn't getting the point.

Martin reached his arm around her waist again, patting her tight, rounded bottom. "I know you're worried," he said, "but you're assuming the worst because you were caught by surprise. Give it a little time, a week or two, and then we'll see. Okay?"

After a moment, her lips twitched in a half-hearted smile. "Okay. I'm glad you're here for me, darling."

"Are you hungry?" he asked. "You'll feel better after you eat something."

"I can think of something else," Jennifer said slyly, "that would make me feel even better." She slid her right hand down the front of her husband's Army trousers and in between his legs. Instantly she felt his one-eyed monster begin to expand, growing thick and hard and stirring up warm, erotic feelings within her own body. A groan of pleasure erupted from Martin's throat as her glove-sheathed fingers delicately caressed his erection.

The Fox raised both hands to him submissively, palms upward. He knew what she wanted right away. With trembling fingers, he put down his beer and unlatched her bracelets of Ishtar, setting them on the dresser. A moment later he had taken hold of the bottom edge of her halter top, peeling the garment upward over her chest and then her head, setting her perfect breasts bobbing free as he tossed it aside. Jennifer herself slipped her boy shorts over her hips and down her lissome legs, perching on the edge of the bed so that he could remove both her boots and panties. By that time she had also peeled off her gloves and thrown them on the floor.

Naked, Jennifer got up on her knees, tearing off his t-shirt, unbuckling his trousers and letting them drop. She seized his stiff and erect penis with both hands, sucking and running her mouth along the side of his velvet shaft, caressing his balls with her hands until he was as rigid as iron.

At that point Martin climbed onto the bed, his mouth claiming hers with passionate kisses as he gently pressed her body backwards against the bedspread. Jenn was soon pinned underneath his hard, masculine frame as his lips moved along her swanlike neck, blazing trails of heat along her bare shoulders. Her arms snaked around his broad back, hugging him closer as he kissed her soft little breasts, his tongue sucking softly on her erect nipples and causing her to arch her back against the mattress with a groan of pleasure. “Unnnn!” Down between her legs, she could again feel the wetness of arousal.

Just then she felt Martin's fingers between her parted thighs, caressing her creamy skin and stroking her moist pussy lips. His touch felt magical and in no time her body was building up to an impending climax at any moment. Gently he guided his cock into her, sliding smoothly inside her tunnel. "OH GOD!" Jenn moaned as her lover braced himself on the bed, slowly mounting her. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

Martin responded by redoubling the tempo. "Oh Jenn," he gasped, kissing her face. "Jennifer, I love you, I want you..." Taking hold of her right leg, he rested her calf against his left shoulder, stretching her cleft. From this angle, the exquisite pressure of his love stick as it rubbed against her clitoris with each thrust was mind-blowing. Her left leg hooked around his hips, her vagina flexing and squeezing his rod tightly every time he plunged his length deep inside her, right up against her pubis.

It felt like hours of sheer paradise before she felt him cum, which drove her past the heights of ecstasy, fireworks exploding inside her head. Hot jizz seemed to fill her cavity as she climaxed for the second time, and a moment later he pulled out, still squirting sperm along her belly.

"Oh wow!" Martin gasped, collapsing onto the bed.

"Oh God, Martin that was amazing!" Jennifer gushed, breathlessly hugging him and kissing his broad shoulders.

After a moment he said, "After that I'm absolutely ravenous! And the tacos are getting cold."

"I'll be right in," she smiled, kissing him again. "I want to take a shower first."

Jennifer watched her man with loving eyes as he put on his trousers and then padded to the kitchen. Languidly she got off the bed and moved into the shower stall. The cascade of water flowing over her head felt refreshing and revitalizing, cooling her overheated body and cleansing her spirit at the same time. Martin was right, so what if her powers were temporarily somewhat dampened? It wasn't the end of the world. After all, Zumerian technology was capable of self-repair.

As water continued streaming over her lithe, young body, in her mind Jennifer was beginning to drift back to the last time she had spent with her mother in her Zumerian starship, when Ishtar had tried patiently to teach her how to use her bracelets more efficiently.

"Don't think of them as just machines, Jennifer. They should be almost a part of you. Their purpose is to gather and focus ambient cosmic energy, allowing your body to make use of that energy in constructive ways."

"You mean like beating the crap out of bad guys?" she had replied.

"That's a very crude way of putting it, dear."

"I'm sorry, mother."

"You need to concentrate," Ishtar had said with a touch of impatience. "Meld with them, feel how the energy flows through them. As you get older and more experienced, your body will learn how to focus cosmic energy on its own. But you're years away from doing that yet."

Jennifer abruptly returned to the present and turned off the shower. Maybe she was going to have to learn how to do it a lot sooner than she thought.


***


Chapter 4 –


Over the next several days, matters did not seem to be improving, but on the other hand neither were they getting any worse. Jennifer meditated every chance she got, trying to meld her mind with her bracelets and feel the flow of energy through them. Every morning she tried picking up the dresser, but it didn't seem to be getting any easier. In the evenings, she would get Martin to spar with her for a few minutes just to test the strength of her force shield. It could stop a fist easily enough, but it was still not up to par. Her husband flatly refused to fire his service pistol at her.

The good news was that the Guardsmen hadn't been heard from again. A few people at work remarked on it, including Jerry Callahan from I.T. "It looks like those nuts have crawled back under their rock," he was saying to Dr. Angela Pace, the beautiful African-American director of the National Archives, as the two of them came out of her office and bumped into Jennifer.

"Thanks to the Fuchsia Fox," Dr. Pace replied. "What an extraordinary young woman she is, as I've said many times before."

"Yeah, I suppose," Jerry admitted grudgingly, looking at Jennifer who was wearing a sleeveless pastel print sheath dress and carrying a couple of thick file folders in her left hand, propped against her hip. His eyes started with her modest but shapely bust, skimming over delicious willowy curves which were highlighted by the body-hugging polyester of her dress, all the way down her silken legs.

The brunette's cheeks felt hot, as they did every time she ran into Jerry. Jenn couldn't help wondering if he was thinking of his bachelor party a couple of months back, and a certain exotic dancer he had seen on stage.

"Um... Dr. Pace?" Jennifer said, if only to shift his attention off of her. "Speaking of the Guardsmen, have you heard if NASA has had any results yet?" A team of scientists from the Goddard Space Flight Center had set up radiation monitors all over the Washington area a week ago, checking for fallout from the bomb Magruder had set off.

"So far they've detected traces of cesium and cobalt," the director said, "but not enough to make anyone sick. I'm glad I ran into you, Jennifer. Lauren in Public Archives has a problem she needs an administrator for, but I need to talk with Jerry about a security upgrade, and then I'm due for a meeting with Dr. Morrison at the History Museum."

"I'll take care of it," Jennifer volunteered. "I just need you to approve these files."

"Leave them on my desk and I'll look at them when I return," Dr. Pace said, hurrying toward the elevator with Jerry.

Jennifer herself took the stairs to the third floor where Lauren Durocher's office was. On the way she crossed paths with Dana Fazio from Human Resources, and the two young women exchanged pleasantries.

"Oh Jennifer," Dana said, "your intuition was right about that security guard applicant we interviewed yesterday. When we did his background check, it turned out he had belonged to a militia group in Pennsylvania. How did you know?"

"I guess something just felt hinky about him," Jennifer said with a shrug. As she continued on to Lauren's office, she felt good about herself. It was nice to know that she had learned something from her time spent crime-fighting.

As the Fuchsia Fox, she still had some moderate martial arts skills. She could still fly; her force shield could still stop bullets. As Martin had pointed out, the physical strength she could draw from the bracelets was still twice or more than that of a normal man. There were still contributions the Fox could make as a superheroine. She would just have to exercise a little more caution than normal and she should be fine.

At six thirty that evening, when it was time to lock up the Archives for another night, Jennifer stood in her office in the empty building, looking thoughtfully out the window at the busy traffic flowing down 9th Street. She made a decision. Picking up her phone, she dialed Martin's number.

"Hey, Angel!" he said, answering on the third ring. "I'm sorry but I'm going to be running late tonight. Do you want me to pick up some take-out?"

"Um... I was just calling to let you know I might be a little late myself," Jenn said. "I'm... I'm going to take the Suit out for a spin."

She could feel the tension in his silence. To give him credit, her husband didn't try to talk her out of it. Tonight would normally be her sparring session with Barbara Wright, anyway.

"I know how much this means to you," he said, "so I won't even say 'Be careful'. I love you."

"I love you, too," Jenn said. She hung up the phone and put it carefully in her purse.

With a flash of light, her pastel dress vanished along with her shoes, underwear and accessories, sent away as an invisible stream of z-particles to her apartment. In their place her Fuchsia Fox costume materialized around her nubile young body -- elbow-length gloves, halter top, ankle boots, and this time a tiny, 14-inch miniskirt. The Fox did a quick practice spin, the flirty little skirt rising slightly around her alluring waist before falling seductively back in place around her creamy bare thighs. Once again, she looked out the window and took a deep breath. "Let's do this," she said to herself.


***


A plain gray van was speeding along the back streets of northwest Arlington. The two Hispanic men in the cab looked nervously in the rear-view mirrors at the long black sedan which was chasing them. The driver spun the steering wheel, skidding the van around a corner and then under an overpass. Desperate to shake off pursuit, he took another left and felt his stomach lurch as he passed a "No Thru Traffic" sign. Sure enough, fifty yards later the street came to a dead end against a chain link fence, and beyond that the Potomac River. "Shit!" the driver cursed.

Immediately to their left was an empty lot in between two condemned buildings. The driver quickly spun the vehicle around, bumping over the curb and into that lot. He and his companion threw open the doors and scrambled out, drawing automatic pistols.

The black sedan stopped at the curb, its headlights shining onto the lot and illuminating the van. Two men got out of the front, dressed casually in slacks and jackets but no neckties. A third man was vaguely visible as a shadow sitting in the back seat, but he stayed where he was as they both drew pistols from shoulder holsters and walked sedately forward into the light.

"You were warned," said Suit Number One. "You don't move merchandise in this city without paying your percentage. So now you forfeit it all."

"You touch this van and you die," warned one of the Latinos, a huge man who looked like a professional wrestler.

The driver of the van was smaller, and he looked nervous. "Your boss doesn't own the whole city of D.C.!" he blustered.

"Yeah, he does," said Suit Number Two, cocking his pistol loudly.

And just then a beautiful girl with short brunette hair dropped from the dark evening sky, her fuchsia miniskirt slightly riding up her silken thigh and flashing a tantalizing glimpse of panty as she alighted on the ground between the two gangs. Her sleek, sexy, supermodel-worthy body was dressed in that miniskirt and a matching halter top, accessorized with gloves and ankle boots. Across the swell of her succulent young breasts was an emblem in the shape of a fox's head.

"Caramba! The Fuchsia Fox!" the driver of the van whispered. All four of the men licked their lips, their eyes bulging as they drank in the sight of the sexy superheroine's luscious bod. In the back seat of the black sedan, a pair of eyes narrowed.

"In the flesh," the Fox said. "What are you guys up to?"

"It's no concern of yours, babe," Suit Number One said. "Push off." All four of the guns were pointing at her now.

"Give me a break, sparky," the stunning girl said. "If I only went where I was wanted, I'd miss out on all the fun stuff. Why don't you put your guns down and let's talk about this?"

Four fingers tensed on four triggers. This is it! Jennifer said to herself, feeling butterflies in her stomach. Remember the bullets will sting a bit, so stay loose, keep moving, don't let them draw a bead on you, and maybe you'll live through this...


***


Chapter 5 –


Multiple shots rang out as the four gang members opened fire. But the Fuchsia Fox was already moving like a whirlwind, feeling bullets whizzing past and narrowly missing her sylph-like torso as she angled toward the two men in suits, who happened to be closer. Whop! Whop! Her fists smacked into their brawny torsos. Suit Number One took a swing with the butt of his automatic pistol, which the stunning young heroine dodged, catching his wrist and flinging him across the hood of the black sedan. Suit Two tried the same thing, but got a silken knee into his ribcage as her left fist came around and socked him in the jaw.

The two Latinos were still firing their guns. The Fox winced as she felt two bullets hit her in the back, ricocheting off her invisible force shield. But this time she was a moving target and the impacts were only glancing, feeling about like getting punched by a man's fists. Instantly the spunky superheroine went into a reverse somersault, barreling down at them with a graceful kick that sent the smaller one flying backward and slamming against the rear doors of the van.

POW! The larger one landed an unexpected punch on the side of her head with enough force to make the Fox stagger, seeing stars even through her force shield. He followed through with a second punch which the heroine just managed to block, catching his fist in her hand and quickly spinning to bring her gorgeous gam up into his breadbasket. The hoodlum let out a grunt but kept coming, lunging at her with both arms. The Fox evaded, but he was incredibly fast for his size.

His left hand snagged her left arm, yanking her backward into his clutches as his other muscular arm snaked around her smooth, bare midriff like an anaconda and lifted her off her feet. The superheroine squirmed and fought in his tightening grip, her alluring legs flailing helplessly. The arm around her slim torso shifted upward, rubbing against her pliant boobs while his other arm wrapped across her creamy thighs, trying to pin her while his hand groped under her skirt. The strong male scent of his sweaty body almost made the Fox feel giddy.

"You are the Fox, eh chica?" her captor said, grinning. "I am El Toro. I was a luchador back in Mexico. I am going to peel you like a grape and squeeze those tasty tits."

"Don't count on it, amigo," the heroine gasped. With a jerk, she snapped her head backward against his jaw. The blow didn't seem to make much of an impression, but it did distract him while her hands found his right wrist, twisting it outward so that she could slither out of his powerful, boa-like grip. Once free, the Fox aimed a lateral kick to his midriff and tried to dart away to regroup, but his left hand grabbed the tail of her miniskirt, yanking her back into his grasp.

SMACK! Her right elbow arced upward into El Toro's chest. Spinning in place, the spunky super-lady brought her knee up into his stomach, followed by a rapid left/right into his chest. Grabbing the front of his shirt, she flipped her dazed opponent over her shoulder, bringing his body slamming down hard on the ground, flat on his back.

And that seemed to be it. All four of the gang members were down, if not out cold, then in the very least hurting and not up to continuing the fight. "Not a bad night's work," the Fox said smugly, cocking her shapely hips. "Now to see what's in this van that everybody wanted so badly..."

As she reached for the door handle, a shadowy figure got out of the black sedan and stepped forward into the light. "Don't touch that, Fox Baby!" a male voice commanded.

The heroine spun around, her brown eyes wide with surprise and her heart thumping with alarm. The man who had spoken was a handsome Black man, wearing what looked to be a violet pirate shirt with puffy sleeves over black jeans tucked into Wellington boots. The open front of his shirt showed off a broad, hairy chest sporting gold chains. Demetrius Van Meter, lately known as D-Man! He was not the sort of person she wanted to scuffle with right now, not with her power levels so low!

"So what's the deal here, D-Man?" the Fox asked casually, hoping to bluff him. "Don't tell me El Toro and his gang are giving Mr. K a hard time?"

"Strictly Amateur Night," Demetrius shrugged, strolling closer. "If it was up to me, I wouldn't waste my time with losers like them." His eyes started with her breasts and wandered hungrily along her svelte body to her miniskirt, like a gourmet looking over a banquet table and wondering where to start.

"Oh, I get it," the Fox said. "After that debacle in New York City, you're back to being just Kodosky's little errand boy."

Demetrius' jaw muscles tensed. "I lost considerable status thanks to you, Fox," he said testily, reaching up with his right hand and rubbing something on the back of his head. "Don't think you're getting off the hook for that."

"I'm heartbroken, DVM," the superheroine deadpanned. "But somehow I'll just have to choke back my tears and forge ahead."

"You'll do more than that, Fox Baby," the villain said, reaching out for her.

The Fox soared straight up into the air, hoping to keep her distance, but before she could get far, a retractable metal tentacle shot out of Demetrius' right sleeve from the powered harness he wore concealed under his shirt. The cool metal whipped around the heroine's slim ankle, twining sinuously around both of her smooth, shapely stems and pinning them together.

NO! The Fox bent forward, struggling to disentangle herself, but the grip of the tentacle around her legs was too powerful.

"It's useless to struggle," Demetrius smiled, yanking her back downward. The Fox's slender body couldn't resist the tug, plunging feet downward as her miniskirt flew up. Desperately she fought to break free as the metallic tendril continued crawling up her body, tightening and constricting as it encircled her waist.

"I said stop struggling!" Demetrius ordered. Sweeping the tentacle around, he swung the heroine across the empty lot and slammed her into the brick wall of the condemned building.

The Fox tried to brace her force shield against the impact. Shards of brick and mortar crumbled around her as she pushed away from the building, fighting the strength of Demetrius' tentacle and turning back toward him. Once she got within reach, a couple of solid punches should make him let go of her.

In response, the villain threw out the other whip from its sheath on his left arm. Together both tentacles slithered up over the heroine's slender torso, crushing her so tightly within their irresistible coils of constricting metal that she couldn't draw breath. There was no strength to break free. Gasping for air, the girl squirmed and struggled, feeling darkness closing over her brain as her body went limp and defenseless.

"Are you going soft on me, Fox Baby?" Demetrius said, retracting the tentacles to bring the heroine's unconscious body into his arms with her pretty head lolling against his shoulder. "I didn't even have to use a lightning bolt this time."

He withdrew the left tentacle back into its sheath, his left arm wrapped the Fox's lissome waist, patting her delicious booty and supporting her weight while his right hand felt up her left breast through the fabric of her halter top. When the superheroine didn't respond to this impertinence, he reached up to grasp her swanlike throat and feel her pulse.

"Out like a light," Demetrius said, smiling. He looked around the empty lot as the other four men began to recover and get to their feet. "Alright, you jerks, front and center! Cherny, watch those two punks. Svoboda, get me the Black Bag. Move!"

The two suits scrambled to obey his orders. Suit One ran back to the black sedan while Suit Two secured the guns belonging to the two Latino gang members and stood by as they sat up. El Toro glared angrily at Demetrius.

"Don't even think about it," the Black man warned. "I just took down this sassy little super-babe without raising a sweat. Do you really think you can give me a hard time?"

Svoboda came running back carrying a black satchel. Although Kodosky's organization dabbled in gun running and drug smuggling, their primary source of income was traditionally from prostitution and human trafficking. The contents of the satchel were needed when they had a particularly troublesome girl who wouldn't behave. Looking inside, the henchman brought out a pair of bright steel handcuffs, which he secured around the Fox's wrists just behind her gold bracelets.

"Drug her, too," Demetrius ordered. "One of the Fentanyl patches should do the trick."

The henchman obeyed, tearing open a paper packet and placing the adhesive patch on the superheroine's smooth throat, over her jugular vein where the drug would most easily get into her bloodstream. It was especially potent, custom-made by a pharmacist on Kodosky's payroll, and powerful enough to keep a normal woman sedated, or at least groggy for twelve hours.

"That should do until we can get her into some tougher restraints," Demetrius said, retracting his other tentacle into its sheath. "Open the van and let's see what we got."

Cherny kept his gun trained on El Toro and his driver so that they couldn't interfere, while Svoboda stepped up and opened the rear doors of the van. The headlights fell upon four beautiful, dark-haired and olive-skinned young women wearing flimsy dresses, huddled together on the floor of the cargo area and shrinking away in fear from the sudden light.

"Lord have mercy," Demetrius commented, looking them over. "These girls look barely legal, amigo. Good thing we stopped you before the cops did. Fox Baby, looks like you're going to have company on your ride. In you go." The Black man stepped forward and ungraciously laid the captured superheroine down on the floor of the van while the girls watched him warily, too terrified to even speak.

"Oooh, Mr. K's gonna love this," Demetrius said, as he closed the doors on them.


***


Chapter 6 –


The van drove through the night, while the Fuchsia Fox lay stretched out in the cargo area, slipping in and out of consciousness. From time to time her brown eyes would flicker open momentarily and close again with no sign of recognition of where she was. The interior of the van was dark, lit only by the briefest flashes of light from passing cars. There wasn't much to be seen apart from the frightened faces of the four young girls, like ghostlike figures in a nightmare.

The Fox’s body felt drowsy and lethargic, like she was swimming in treacle. Her arms flexed listlessly and came up sharply against her cold and rigid metal handcuffs, holding her imprisoned. The Fox looked at them without comprehension and slid smoothly back into sleep.

…..

"Don't treat your bracelets as just machines, Jennifer," Ishtar was saying, reclining in the command chair of her spaceship. "They're a part of you. You need to concentrate."

"I'm trying, mother," the superheroine replied. "It's just... it's just so hard..."

"Nonsense. If you didn't insist upon staying on that primitive planet with your talking ape, you'd be able to do it. You'd have more discipline."

"I'm trying, mother," Jennifer whined. "I really am."

"You are half-Human after all," her mother said a sigh of disapproval. "Not a full-blooded Zumerian. I suppose I shouldn't have expected any better." Her image began to fade as if she were walking away into the dark.

"No, mother! Don't go! Please don't leave me!"

…..

Through the metal mesh screen that separated the cab from the rest of the van, the profile of the driver could just be made out, taking a quick glance back at his cargo. The four captive girls were sitting on the floor where they could stretch their legs, their backs leaning against two long wooden crates, their wrists bound in front of them with simple cords. None of them was older than 20. Since they had been kidnapped from the dance club in Mexico City, it seemed like they had spent days in the back of a big truck with twenty other illegals, kept in the dark and rarely given food or water until finally they were moved into the back of this van. Their entire ordeal had been terrifying and bewildering. Now they whispered quietly to one another as they solemnly watched the beautiful young superheroine, lying there in her skimpy costume, muttering softly in her drugged sleep.

"Who is she?" one of the girls finally asked tremulously in Spanish.

After a long moment, another of the girls inched cautiously closer until she could make out the fox head emblem adorning the prone beauty's nubile chest. "I know her," she whispered. "This is the Fuchsia Fox."

A third girl sat up hopefully. "The Fuchsia Fox? She is an American superhero! She rescues people, like Mujer Maravilla does! They say she is invincible!"

"Is she here to rescue us?" the fourth girl asked, her heart swelling with an upsurge of faith.

"She doesn't look very invincible right now," said the one girl who was closest. She saw the handcuffs on the superheroine's wrists, and the newborn hope died. "Who is going to rescue her?" she said, bitterly.

The van drove over a narrow stone bridge and through a gate. The rear door of the van opened, allowing light to pour through. A pair of strong male arms reached under the Fox's body and picked her up easily, letting her head rest against a man's broad chest. It had to be Martin! Jennifer let out a soft moan of pleasure, a smile flickering around her lips. She felt such a rush of relief to be safe in his arms that she wanted to put her arms around his neck and kiss him, but for some reason her wrists were fastened together by handcuffs. Handcuffs? Oh right -- then they must be at another Club X party. The smiling faces of Dora and Michelle swam disjointedly before her vision and then dissolved like sugar cubes in hot tea.

"Please don't," she muttered, playing along with the bondage game. "I'm your prisoner. I'll do anything you ask, kind sir. Anything..."

"I know you will, Fox Baby," replied a deep male voice. With a quiver of alarm, Jennifer realized that it wasn't Martin after all. The heroine's pulse thumped with shock as she saw Demetrius Van Meter's grinning face hovering just above hers. And then she passed out again, defenseless in his strong arms as he carried her inside.

Sometime later the Fox woke up again, this time for good because the Fentanyl patch had been removed from her neck. She blinked sleepily as she looked around the room. It seemed to be just a plain single bedroom such as might be found in a low-rent apartment building or boarding house. It had one barred window, a narrow closet door and a wider outside door. She was lying on a single bed with clean sheets. There were no other furnishings.

Was that morning sunlight streaming through the window? Had she been held prisoner all night then? Jennifer sat up and realized that she wasn't restrained apart from the handcuffs on her wrists. Almost by instinct, she flexed her arms, snapping the short steel chain taut. No good. At her full strength, breaking something like this would have been practically effortless, but with her new limitations, they defeated her.

The Fox sat there with her left leg curled beneath her, poised to get off the bed and explore, when the door suddenly opened. An Asian-American man wearing a doctor's lab coat walked into the room, carrying a computer tablet which he was consulting. He left the door open so that Demetrius Van Meter could be seen standing outside in the corridor with a big grin on his face. Two armed guards were out there with him. Jennifer had the strangest feeling that she had met this doctor somewhere before, but she couldn't quite...

"What is your name?" the doctor asked blandly, still looking at something on his tablet.

The superheroine instantly felt a tickling sensation in her scalp. "The Fuchsia Fox," burst out of her mouth before she could stop herself. At the same time, an indefinite sense of well-being seemed to spread through her brain, racing along every nerve in her body.

The Fox suddenly felt a strong sense of deja vu. She reached up to her forehead and found a metallic band clamped snugly around her skull.

"Do not touch the device," the doctor commanded her, and Jennifer's hands immediately dropped back to her lap without her willing them to. Her eyes focused on the name plate attached to the front of his coat which identified him as "Dr. Harold Yu". Oh no! It couldn't be HIM again? The memories came flooding back of the last time she had fallen into Dr. Yu’s hands, when he had been employed by the industrialist Damien Devlin.

"I must tell you," Dr. Yu said, "what a privilege it has been to study your reactions. You are a remarkably strong-willed young lady. I have learned a great deal about pleasure center operative conditioning from the data I have amassed from you."

The Fox was sorely tempted to reach out with one hand and grab him around the throat before he could say another word, but in the corridor, Demetrius was watching her as if daring her to make the slightest move. The heroine shifted position so that both of her classy legs dangled over the edge of the bed, preparing herself to spring.

"As I remember," she said casually, "your little mind control device didn't work very well."

"The Cerebral Adjustment Module, yes," the doctor said with a slight smile. "I assure you, the Mark Two is a considerable improvement in design. Observe." He held out his right hand, palm up. "Hand me the golden bracelets I see on your wrists," he commanded.

At the words of command, the tickling feeling returned to the Fox's skull even stronger than before, a numbness like an itch inside the tissues of her brain. She had the sense of a tantalizing pleasure held just out of reach, teasing and tempting her to obey the order. The prickling sensation spread down her spine and to all her internal organs, becoming more irritating the longer she resisted. The stunning superheroine's butt squirmed uncomfortably against the bed. She couldn't take it anymore.

Her trembling hands worked the catches of her bracelets of Ishtar, releasing them. Biting her lip, she watched her hands in disbelief as they surrendered her bracelets. Immediately a surge of euphoria spread through her body. Gasping out loud, the Fox closed her eyes and embraced the feeling as it flowed through her, making her heart flutter between her nubile breasts with incredible arousal. Then it gradually died away, leaving the superheroine feeling drained.

"Yes," Dr. Yu said, stepping back out of her reach, still holding her precious bracelets. "As you can see, the matrix is much improved." He turned to Demetrius. "You may tell Mr. Kodosky that the operation is a success. The Fuchsia Fox will not be giving him any trouble."

The Black man grinned even more broadly. "I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear that."


>>> to be continued

[scwank]

That. Was. Awesome

Drama, great descriptions, and a cliffhanger. And I'm a sucker for a heroine running into unexpected trouble from regular guys, so Chapter 2 was one of my favorite Fox chapters ever. I almost wish it had been them and not Demetrius who hauled her away. But great story!

[GeekyPornCritic]

Bravo! Bravo!

This story is awesome. Centurion always keep his stories fresh. I was not expecting The Fox to be weaken like she is in this story. It makes perfectly good sense as well.

The peril is perfectly executed. Fox's overconfidence got her TWICE! I just wished the three thugs forced her to orgasm in public. That would have been humiliating. I also like reading regular guys causing unexpected trouble for a heroine.

[DrDominator9]

Terrific story with an intriguing new dilemma for the Fox to overcome. The only aspect I found truly disturbing is the idea of the President giving a partial pass to a group that tried to set off a dirty nuclear bomb in the nation's capital.

[GeekyPornCritic]

Terrific story with an intriguing new dilemma for the Fox to overcome. The only aspect I found truly disturbing is the idea of the President giving a partial pass to a group that tried to set off a dirty nuclear bomb in the nation's capital.

They're his base! The president cannot anger his voters.

[scwank]

I forgot about one gripe I had . . . we have to wait for part 2!

[flirty_but_nice]

Hey guys. Thank you so much for the wonderful feedback! I've forwarded all of it on to Centurion.

I agree about the peril of the Fox having so much trouble against "regular" guys. For me as well, it was one of the highlights of this story. It was so exciting and I am so glad Centurion incorporated the idea into the story. Oh, and I also agree with the notion of wishing it was the normal guys that apprehended her. Those darn police sirens!

As for Pat II, I hope to get it edited and uploaded within a week, so the wait will hopefully not be very long.

[dodosony]

Hi Flirty and Centurion,

There is rare to see Centurion applies multiple parts to tell an integrated story, and if it happens, it must come with amazing and juicy details!

The mainstream of the SHIP (superheroine in peril) idea usually based on three classical scenarios: defeated superheroine by the superior power, stripped/absorbed the source of superpower (Red and Gold Kryptonite), and limited the use of the superpower (like blackmail or take the risk to transform into a superheroine in public).

The first and second scenarios can be found in lots of superheroine stories. In this time, Centurion tries something new that limited the power output of Fuchsia Fox weakens in the right level. For example, Fox may fear to be hit by bullets because it hurts her. However, the force shield still protected Fox’s body away from be damaged too severely (may recover in next few days). Also, Fox still strong as three to four muscle men— it not against the foundation of superheroine (like Centurion mentioned in his reply “it should n’t easy to capture a superheroine” — that the definition of super), and in other words, the protagonist must stronger than an average man.

For me, I am a big fan of such style (stronger than 4-5 average men) because it not only leaves plenty room to fill up SHIP ideas but also keep in the balance of power between superheroine and her opponents. That is to say, in the "normal heroine" story like Batgirl, the heroine did not have any superpower. It means there is less chance to see Batgirl directly defeated thugs by her fists. On the other hand, Supergirl, Wonder Woman, and Captain Marvel may too strong to be defeated by ordinary thugs. As a result, the author usually set up an apparent weakness of the superheroine ( kryptonite for SG and power belt for WW) to make sense of the storytelling.

By the way, I have no idea about how Dr. Harold Yu realized that Fuchsia Fox’s power may be linked to her bracelet — from their last encounter in the Mayborn Clinic — Fox only shared this top secret to Major Barbara in the story “Fuchsia Fox: The Wright Stuff." Yet, this plot may not be a big deal because Dr. Harold Yu can do a lot of background research to make an assumption which identifies the source of superpower from Fuchsia Fox.

Whatever, the next part will no doubt be an exciting and amazing one— not only because the secret of Fox’s power may be revealed and exposed in front of her enemies, as well as Fox must find a way out of her crisis in the situation of de-powered and captured in hand of evil scientist Dr. Yu and Fox’s old enemies Demetrius.

Again, thanks for both Centurion and Flirty’s hard work, and best wishes.



Dodo

[flirty_but_nice]

Hey, Dodo. Thanks for the feedback. To your query about the bracelets being taken by Dr. Yu, Centurion replied with this, which aligns with my thought when I read that part of the story ...

“Actually Dr. Yu DIDN'T realize that the Fox's bracelets had anything to do with her powers. He merely seized upon them as a simple test to see if the Cerebral Adjustor was working. This becomes more clear in part 2.”

[GeekyPornCritic]

Thinking about her bracelets......It was mention in Fuchsia Fox: The Wright Stuff that a deposition of a case mentions her bracelets being linked to her power. The defendant made this statement and it was included in the deposition.

[flirty_but_nice]

Thinking about her bracelets......It was mention in Fuchsia Fox: The Wright Stuff that a deposition of a case mentions her bracelets being linked to her power. The defendant made this statement and it was included in the deposition.

Hmmm, interesting. I'm going to have to go back and read that story to confirm. Edit: Okay, I went back and checked … it wasn't so much a deposition of the case, but rather, an admission made by the Fox to just Major Wright. Thus, still not widely known fact about the bracelets being the source of the Fox's power.

Also, sorry everybody for my delay in getting Part II posted. I don't think I will be able to this week (unless by some miracle I can find the time this morning), so likely Part II will be posted next week. Your patience is appreciated.