Martha and the Supergirls

Martha made her way from the bar to the table at the back of the pub without spilling any of her pint. A small miracle given how crowded the place was. Jack and Harry had been drinking for an hour already and it showed. Their voices were raised, they were gesticulating wildly as they argued, and their faces were flushed.

"Finally!" said Jack when he spotted her. "The philosopher is here. She'll settle this."

Martha took a seat across from the two men. She toyed with the ends of her short dreadlocks.

"I told you," she said, "I forgot everything I learned about philosophy when I was done with my finals.'

"And I don't believe you," said Harry. "You don't graduate from Cambridge with a first-class degree in Philosophy without some of it sticking in that big brain of yours."

Martha shrugged. "So what are you boys arguing about tonight?"

Jack and Harry worked with her at an investment bank. Jack had been her boss until the League of Supergirls had issued an edict last year that men could no longer hold positions of authority over women. Now, both of them worked for her. There had been an awkward period of transition when she'd first taken over, but eventually their friendship had won out.

"The nature of evil," said Jack. "As it concerns Supergirls."

"Shit," said Martha. "You shouldn't talk about things like that. What if one of them hears you?"

"Come on," said Harry. "The Supergirls have better things to do than listen in to conversations in random pubs."

"No they don't," said Martha. "Finding new ways to torment us is literally all they do."

She looked out the window, across to the other side of the Thames and imagined she could see the lights of the estate where she had grown up. She shuddered at her memories of the place. The decay, the filth, the crime, the drugs, the elevators that never worked, the stairwells that always smelled of piss and shit, the unceasing grind of poverty that had chipped away at their souls, day after day. She'd managed to get out by focusing like a laser on her education, but there were so many that hadn't.

She imagined what she could do with the power of a Supergirl. She could clean up the estate in a matter of minutes and drive out the drug dealers and thugs. She could repair the leaking, drafty school where she had absorbed every piece of knowledge she could while shivering in the damp cold. She could root out the corruption and graft that sucked away the funds that should have been used to make people's lives better. She could inspire a nation to do better.

But the real Supergirls did nothing like that. They built grand palaces wherever they liked. They terrorized people for fun. They took whatever they wanted and left scraps for the rest. They issued bizarre edicts and enforced them with threats of terrible retribution for disobedience. Some were worse than others, but they were all selfish, vain, petulant, and malevolent. It was grotesque that these women had been granted godlike power and they chose to use it to such vile ends.

She turned back to the boys. "Okay, the Supergirls are evil. So what?"

Jack leaned forward. "But were they born evil or were they made evil?'

"Ah… Nature vs. nurture," said Martha. "One of the oldest debates in the world."

"Exactly," said Harry. "Is it in the very nature of someone as powerful as a Supergirl to be evil, or are they indoctrinated into evil by the League?"

The League of Supergirls took every new Supergrl under their wing. The rumor was that when a woman first became a Supergirl, she would spend months at the League's headquarters - the Spire. Nobody knew what happened to them at the Spire. It was possible brainwashing was part of it. Did the League take Supergirls with the potential to be good and make sure they became as evil as the rest of them?

"What about the first Supergirls?" asked Martha. "The three that formed the League. They obviously weren't indoctrinated."

"Maybe they were evil before they became Supergirls," said Jack. "Then they made sure that the ones who came after them were molded in their image."

"That doesn't track with what we know about Kara Lang before she became Supergirl," said Martha. "Everyone who knew her back then said she was an honest, hard-working woman with a good heart."

"Who became a widow at the age of twenty-four," said Harry. "Grief can do strange things to people."

"I don't think we'll ever know why the Supergirls are the way they are," said Martha. "Especially since they don't like people sticking their noses into their business. If anyone came close to figuring it out, they'd be eliminated before they could tell anyone."

"If any of us are going to find out, it'll be you, Martha," said Jack.

"What do you mean?"

"It was your birthday yesterday," he said. "Do you feel any different? You're twenty-five now. That's the age when it happens."

Martha laughed. "For one woman a year. There are about sixty million women who turn twenty-five every year. I'd be better off playing the lottery."

Harry winked at her. "You'd make a good Supergirl. I can just imagine you prancing around with that little black skirt fluttering up around your waist. Dreamy…"

"I would remind you once again that I'm gay and I'm your boss," said Martha. "And that was far more than I needed to know about your fantasies… Besides, if I were Supergirl, I'd make a few changes to the costume. Trousers are far more practical for flying around."

"I don't think the Supergirls care about being practical," said Jack. "The costume makes the point that they're so powerful, they don't have to be careful. Yeah, there's a chance someone might see her knickers while she's flying around, but if she catches you she'll disintegrate you with her heat vision."

"I wouldn't be that kind of Supergirl," said Martha, insistently.

"Maybe you wouldn't have a choice," said Harry, "Nature vs. nurture, remember." He raised his empty glass.

Martha took the hint and went to the bar to get another round in. As she was ordering the drinks, a woman came and stood next to her. The stranger was dressed in a figure-hugging red dress that showed a generous swathe of cleavage, black knee-high boots, and a long black coat. She was tall, incredibly beautiful, and very imposing. She flicked her long, brown hair out of her strikingly blue eyes with one hand. The other held a glass of white wine.

"Martha Smith, I need to talk to you," said the woman. She had an American accent.

"Excuse me?" replied Martha. "Do I know you?" She took a closer look at the woman. "I do know you. Where have I seen you before?"

"I show up on the news every now and again," said the woman. She held out her hand. "I'm Rachel."

Martha gulped. She quivered as she accepted Rachel's hand in hers, a hand that could crush coal into diamond. "Sup-" she began.

Rachel hushed her by putting a finger on her lips. "Don't say the 'S' word. We wouldn't want to cause a panic in your quaint little English pub would we?"

Even though Supergirl Rachel was based in San Francisco, her propensity for casual mayhem was well known across the globe. She'd visited London once before; it had taken a year to repair the damage and some bodies were yet to be recovered.

"Are you here because of our conversation? We didn't mean anything by it. It's just silly pub talk. Please don't kill us."

Rachel looked confused and shook her head. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Grab your drink and join me outside."

"I should give Jack and Harry their pints first."

"Don't worry about them. Not having to be concerned with the needs of men is one of the perks of your new position."

Rachel walked to the door, her long strides crossing the distance in no time. Martha scurried after her. Somehow she was able to keep from spilling a single drop of beer from her pint, even though it was full to the brim. It was as if her sense of balance was almost perfect.

"Excuse me," said Martha. "What new position? I'm quite happy with my current job."

The late autumn nights were starting to turn cold and they were the only people outside. Martha was surprised the chill didn't seem to bother her. Supergirl Rachel sat at a small round table and took a sip of her wine. "Oh, that's just awful," she said. "I should burn the place to the ground for serving this."

Martha took a chair on the other side of the table. "That's what you get when you order chardonnay in a real ale pub. I apologize on behalf of London, but please don't burn my local to the ground."

Rachel laughed. "You're a feisty one. I can see why you were chosen."

"Chosen for what?"

"A little slow on the uptake, though."

Rachel's blue eyes locked onto hers, causing butterflies to rise in Martha's stomach. How could a woman so beautiful be so evil? She fought back a sudden, ridiculous urge to lean across the table and kiss the infamous villainess on her luscious lips.

"You're one of us," said Rachel. "You're a Supergirl, Martha."

Martha sat there in shock as the words slowly sunk in. "No. No fucking way. Not happening." She paused. "One in sixty fucking million," she muttered under her breath.

"More or less," said Rachel. "I'm here to take you to the Spire."

"Now? Can I say goodbye to my friends first? I'm supposed to give them a ride home. You know men aren't allowed to drive any more."

"No. They are no longer relevant to your life. They're beneath you."

Anger rose in Martha's throat. "Nobody is beneath me! I'm not going to be like you. I'm going to be a different kind of Supergirl. I won't let the power change me. I'll be a force for good."

"You're not the first one to say that. I may have said something similar myself eight years ago. But I'm afraid being some kind of comic book superheroine is not your destiny. Drink up. It's time to go."

Martha slumped in her chair. She went limp as Rachel lifted her to her feet, put one arm around her waist, and soared them up into the air. She barely felt the cold as they quickly reached a high altitude. She looked down and saw the bright lights of London laid out like a fairy tale. Her three years at Cambridge were the only time she'd ever lived anywhere else. She loved the stupid city.

"We'll be at the Spire in half an hour," said Rachel. "I apologize, but it gets a little bumpy over Kazakhstan."

Rachel steadily accelerated until they were flying at an astonishing speed. The only landmarks she could make out in the darkness were the lights of cities far below. The speed at which they passed beneath them gave her an indication of how fast they were going: far beyond the capabilities of any aircraft. Rachel's arm had a satisfying solidity to it. She knew instinctively that there was no force in the world that could break the hold the Supergirl had on her. Under other circumstances, she would have been happy to have a woman as hot as Rachel hold her so close and so tight, but knowing their destination was the Spire made it a far less pleasant experience.

Martha was quiet and lost in thought. She was terrified of what the future held. Was it inevitable she would turn evil if she was a Supergirl? The theoretical discussion from earlier was now her reality. As they flew above the Himalayan mountains and approached their destination, Martha made a silent vow to herself. She would fight to hold on to her moral compass, no matter what. She refused to be just another selfish Supergirl using her powers to dominate and destroy those weaker than her.

Suddenly they were there. The Spire was how Martha imagined the mythical Mount Olympus, home of the Greek gods. It was a four mile high column of rock, carved from the bones of Mount Everest by the hands and heat vision of the first three Supergirls. The top of the column was flat and home to a complex of buildings that resembled ancient temples: white marble and columns abounded.

"This is your stop, Martha," said Rachel. "Welcome to the Spire."

Martha swallowed nervously as Rachel landed softly and released her hold. The sight of the headquarters of the League, a place only accessible via the personal power of flight, brought home the enormity of her situation. It was really happening. She was a Supergirl.

One month after becoming a Supergirl…

Martha lay on her back on her enormous bed, trying to concentrate on the exercises Chao-Xing had taught her earlier that day. She closed her eyes, allowed her mind to drift, then refocused on a point at the base of her spine. She imagined herself no longer bound by gravity, with the ability to soar through the sky as she pleased.

Slowly, she levitated up until she was floating six inches above the silk sheets. She slowed her breathing and concentrated on maintaining her horizontal position in mid-air. After fifteen minutes, she lowered herself back onto the bed, controlling her slow descent the whole time.

"Not bad," she said to herself. "At this rate, I'll be able to fly off this rock by the time I'm fifty."

The League of Supergirls had not explicitly said she was a prisoner on the Spire, but since her only way off was to be, or be carried by, a Supergirl, the question was moot. Martha couldn't go anywhere until she learned to fly by herself. She returned to her exercises and hoped that day would come soon.

She wasn't suffering by any means. Although the buildings on the Spire looked like temples from the outside, on the inside they were more like miniature palaces. Martha's room was three times the size of her flat in London and furnished in an opulent style.

The first thing she'd learned about being a Supergirl was that her powers would not arrive all at once, or with perfect knowledge of how to use them. Over the next six months, her body would complete the transformation that had begun when she had turned twenty-five. She would gain height and muscle. She would become more attractive, eventually attaining the effortless beauty of the other Supergirls. She would become stronger, faster, and increasingly invulnerable over time.

Her super-senses, heat vision, and ability to fly would also grow, but she had to learn how to use these powers. Without the ability to control it, super-hearing was a curse: a constant cacophony of every sound within a thousand miles. Heat vision could burn off her own eyelids if she tried to use it too soon. Flight was the hardest power to master. Her brain had been conditioned by millions of years of evolution to believe she was not able to fly: breaking that conditioning would take months of mindful, meditative training.

There hadn't been any indoctrination or brainwashing so far. If anything, her first month on the Spire reminded her of being at university. The other Supergirls seemed to take the responsibility of teaching Martha to master her powers quite seriously. It was very different to the way they behaved in the outside world. Chao-Xing was infamous for the debauchery she engaged in at her palace in Shanghai. On the Spire, she was like a zen monk, calmly teaching Martha the mantras and mental exercises that would eventually allow her to fly with ease. It had been a shock when Martha had visited Chao-Xing in her lab and discovered that the hedonistic Chinese woman was also a brilliant scientist who had invented the bulletproof material used to fashion their iconic black and silver costumes.

Martha did not yet have a Supergirl costume of her own. She would receive one when she was inducted into the League. Something she was determined would never happen: she had no intention of being part of the organization that ruled the world in such a cruel fashion. For now, she wore a simple pair of black cotton drawstring pants and a black t-shirt. One immediate advantage of being a Supergirl was that she no longer needed to wear a bra: her breasts, which had grown slightly over the last month, supported themselves quite admirably.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," said Martha.

To her astonishment, Kara Lang, the original Supergirl, opened the door and walked into Martha's room. Kara stood six foot, four inches tall even without the heels of her black boots. She had short golden blonde hair and icy blue eyes. At almost sixty years old, she still looked the way she had at twenty-five. That she was beautiful went without saying - all Supergirls were - but she held herself in a way that pushed her beyond beauty into something regal. Of all the Supergirls, she was the one with the strongest presence. Dressed in her iconic black crop top and miniskirt, she was the personification of what people imagined when they heard the name "Supergirl."

"Good evening, Martha. Do you mind if I sit and talk with you for a moment?"

"Of course, Supergirl. Make yourself comfortable."

"Call me Kara."

Kara settled herself into a leather armchair. Martha sat on the bed with her legs crossed.

"How are you enjoying your stay on the Spire?" asked Kara.

"I never would have guessed that learning to be a Supergirl would be so much work. You all make it seem effortless."

Kara laughed. "It will get easier as you reach your full potential, but it's important to lay the groundwork before that happens. I had to figure all of this out by myself at night, while trying to save my farm from foreclosure during the day. You're lucky to have so many Supergirls to teach you. It's hard to believe there are thirty-four of us now."

A single Supergirl could destroy the world given enough time. Now there were thirty-four of them: all of whom apart from Martha were part of the League of Supergirls, ruling over a world of ordinary humans that could never hope to oppose such an overwhelming concentration of power.

"I've only trained with Chao-Xing, Rachel, Adrianna, and Michele."

"You'll learn from the others as well. All of us spend time at the Spire when there's a new Supergirl to train." Kara paused and her expression grew more serious. "I'm told you have some moral concerns about the League and your destiny as a Supergirl. You think we're evil?"

Martha tried to keep her voice steady so as not to betray her fear. "Well… yes. The League of Supergirls rules the world with the threat of violence against anyone who dares raise a voice against them. Individual Supergirls use their powers to terrorize ordinary people without any remorse. You take crucial resources from the world - the best of everything - and give nothing in return. How is that not evil?"

"You're thinking like a human."

"I am human. We're all human."

Kara shook her head. "You were human. You're now superhuman. Good and evil are things that humans do to one another. Supergirls exist on a level that transcends human morality."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you sure don't sound like a farm girl from Kansas."

Kara laughed. "I've been Supergirl for thirty-four years. If you live long enough as a goddess, you think - and talk - like a goddess."

"You see the Supergirls as divine?"

"Aren't we? If a Supergirl had appeared at any other time in human history, she would have been worshiped as a goddess without question. Even now, in a supposedly rational age, millions of people have put aside their old beliefs to pray to us. Our powers are beyond comprehension. Any one of us is worth more than seven billion humans combined."

Martha began to cry, great heaving sobs accompanied her tears. "I don't want to be a Supergirl. Not if it means becoming a monster."

In a blur, Kara left the chair and sat next to Martha on the bed. She put an arm around the young woman.

"I'm sorry, Martha. I know how hard it is to shed the last vestiges of your humanity, but you have no choice. You are a Supergirl. Your destiny is to wield your incredible powers as you see fit, to indulge your desires. Nothing can stop the process and soon, nothing will be able to stop you. We're not monsters. We're not villains. We're not human. We're goddesses and the sooner you accept that, the happier you'll be."

Kara stood and looked down at Martha with kindness in her eyes. "We'll talk again soon. Get some rest. Tomorrow, you're going to the gun range with Fiona."

Martha was confused. "Why do I need to learn how to shoot?"

Kara smiled. "Don't be ridiculous. You're the target. Feel some bullets disintegrate against your invulnerable chest and then tell me you're not a goddess."

Kara was right. When the first bullet flattened against her bare skin where it struck between her breasts, she did feel like a goddess. She was only one-sixth of the way through her transformation and she was already immune to conventional firearms. She looked down and saw the deformed slug nestled in her cleavage. The physical sensation of being shot was a pleasant tickle, but the mental thrill was something far greater. There was a difference between knowing she was bulletproof and experiencing the moment when the lead struck and was found wanting.

Fiona moved on from the Glock to an increasingly lethal range of guns. High velocity, high caliber bullets were basically liquefied when they hit Martha. Thanks to her enhanced senses she could watch the impacts in slow-motion, each round erupting like a little geyser of molten metal when its supersonic progress was interrupted by her nigh-invulnerable body.

"This doesn't suck," said Martha.

Three months after becoming a Supergirl…

Supergirl Aiko burst into Martha's room holding a garment bag.

"Hey, English girl! Get dressed. We're going on a field trip."

The Japanese Supergirl wore a pink miniskirt and tube top that made her look like a delicious treat that Martha yearned to unwrap and lick all over. Martha hadn't had sex in three months and the process of becoming a Supergirl had pushed her libido through the roof. She had never been so disappointed in her life as when she'd discovered the rumors of Supergirl sex orgies at the Spire were not true. The only people she interacted with were gorgeous, irresistible Supergirls. No matter how much she masturbated to fantasies of these women pleasuring her one, two or three at a time, she was still dying of sexual frustration.

Aiko tossed the garment bag at Martha, who easily snatched it out of the air. Martha unzipped the bag to reveal a red minidress.

"This looks very small."

Aiko sighed, impatiently. "It's form-fitting. Bodycon. It's a style. Come on, English girl! We're going to be late."

To her surprise, she was able to fit into the dress easily.. It showed a lot more cleavage and thigh than she was used to putting on display. Aiko hadn't been kidding when she'd said it was form-fitting. The slightly stretchy material clung to her curves like a second skin. She looked down at her chest and noted the pert bulges her braless nipples made in the fabric. She'd reached the point where she was even turning herself on.

Aiko looked her up and down with an approving expression. "Now you look like a damn sexy Supergirl instead of a frumpy grumpy English girl. Hot stuff!"

Martha's ability to fly had improved considerably. She could now take several laps around the perimeter before the wind eventually wore her down. However, she was still a long way from being able to fly herself off the Spire. Aiko put one arm around her waist and lifted them both into the air.

"Where are we going?" asked Martha.

"London!" said Aiko. "We'll be there in fifteen minutes.'

"I thought it took half an hour."

"If you're a scaredy cat Supergirl like Rachel. I like to fly fast!"

Unlike when Rachel had flown Martha to the Spire, Aiko reached cruising speed in just a few seconds: Martha's body was now durable enough to handle the insane level of acceleration. A normal human would have died instantly. Her super senses were now sensitive enough for her to measure exactly how fast they were going. Aiko threw them through the night sky at an astonishing speed in excess of Mach 22. She appreciated the Japanese Supergirl's firm hold on her waist: although she was invulnerable enough to survive the impact of hitting the ground, she didn't relish the thought of going through the fall that would precede it.

Aiko rarely flew in a straight line. She liked to swoop down and fly through clouds. The shockwave she left in her wake was big enough to tear the clouds apart, scattering their water droplets far and wide across the sky. Martha's dress would be damp for a moment afterwards, but the air rushing towards them soon dried it off.

Martha's burgeoning telescopic vision spotted an airliner ahead of them. In an instant, they flew past it as if it were stationary in mid-air. The most advanced form of transportation humanity had devised was more primitive than a horse and buggy compared to the incredible power a Supergirl possessed.

At the end of their terrifying flight, Aiko landed in Mayfair. They walked the rest of the way. Martha immediately realized that they were headed for Eclipse, the hottest and most exclusive nightclub in the city. The line for the door stretched halfway down the street. To her surprise, Aiko joined the end of the line and gestured for Martha to join her.

"You're not going to push to the front of the queue?" asked Martha. Supergirls didn't wait for anything. If there was something they wanted, they took it right away.

"Not unless you want to," said Aiko. "I know how you feel about Supergirls abusing their power."

Martha had no intention of throwing her weight around like the other Supergirls. "You're right. I can wait. This doesn't look so bad."

An hour later, the line had barely moved. "Are they even letting anyone in? This is ridiculous," said Martha.

Aiko smiled. "It's not fair, English girl. You've been cooped up on the Spire for months. You deserve a break. You need some London style girl tongue to lick your pussy. You finally get a chance to let off steam, grab some cocktails, hit the dance floor, find a nice girl to fuck, but this line is sooo long!"

Martha felt her impatience begin to boil over. Aiko was right. She deserved a fun night out after three months of hard work. Where was the harm in pulling rank as a Supergirl just this once and taking her rightful place at the front of the queue? It was just a nightclub, for goodness sake. It wasn't like she was taking food from starving children.

"Okay, let's do it," said Martha.

Aiko laughed. "All right, English girl. Watch and learn. This is how Supergirl does it in Japan."

Aiko pulled herself up straight and marched to the front of the line, when someone objected she batted them aside like a toy. Martha followed, sheepishly.

"Hot Supergirls, coming through!" said Aiko. "Move or be squashed like a bug."

They reached the front of the line. Two huge bouncers stood in front of the door with their arms crossed. They glowered at Aiko and Martha.

"Nobody gets in until someone leaves," said one of them.

Aiko sighed. One arm moved in a blur until her hand was around the man's throat. She effortlessly lifted him off the ground.

"What are you waiting for, English girl? Grab the other one before he does something stupid."

"Um, okay."

Martha grabbed the second bouncer by the throat and lifted him with ease. Since she hadn't reached the end of her transformation, she wasn't as strong as Aiko, but she was far more than strong enough to handle three hundred pounds of bouncer. His bulk didn't tax her incredible muscles even a tiny bit. She pushed the man flat against the wall and slid him up as far her arm could reach..

She was surprised by how good it felt to overwhelm such a big man without even trying. She felt powerful, in control, and a little aroused. The thought crossed her mind of how easy it would be to squeeze just a little harder and choke the life out of the man with nothing more than her hand. She imagined the desperate sounds he would make as her steely grip closed, and the thrashing of his huge body fighting for life against the relentless crush of her super-strong fingers. She had the power to end him if she chose and it would take less effort to use it than not.

The bouncer at the end of Aiko's slender arm began to babble. "I'm sorry Supergirls, I didn't know. Welcome to Eclipse. Drinks are on the house!"

Aiko snorted as she put the man down. "Of course they are. Supergirls don't pay, dumb guy!"

Martha put her bouncer down as well. He landed with a thud and fell to his knees, clutching his throat. A bruise in the shape of Martha's fingers had already begun to form. Apparently she had squeezed a little harder than she had intended. When the difference between restraining a man and killing him was only the tiniest fraction of the strength she possessed, control was critical, and Martha was still learning.

"Even if we don't pay for the drinks, we should still tip the staff," said Martha. "They work hard. Do you have a card we can use?"

Aiko looked at Martha like she was crazy. "Supergirls. Don't. Pay," she repeated slowly. "This is basic. Haven't they taught you anything on the Spire? You see a car you like: you take the car. You see a dress you like: you take the dress, even if a girl is wearing it. A little kid has candy that looks tasty to you: you take the candy and you don't care if the kid cries!"

Martha knew it was wrong, but the idea of being able to take whatever she wanted when she saw it was undeniably seductive. She'd grown up poor, unable to even comprehend being able to have what she wanted. Even working at the bank, there were things that had caught her eye that were out of her reach. Now, if she was willing to break the rules she'd lived by her entire life, she could have anything she desired. She shook her head and tried to dismiss the thought, but it kept creeping back in. Did the rules even apply to her now that she was a Supergirl? Should they?

"Come on, English girl," said Aiko. "Let's do some drinking and dancing and find you a pussy to break in half! Is English pussy okay? I heard a rumor that you want to get your hands on some tasty American style San Francisco pussy."

Martha blushed. "What? No! Who told you that?"

Aiko smirked. "You just did! Now you do as I say or I tell Rachel about your girl crush!"

Martha followed Aiko into the club. The bright lights and pounding music were almost overwhelming. She had to remember the training she'd received to filter her super-senses to the point where the sensations were bearable.

She felt an illicit thrill as she took her drink from the bartender without paying for it. When she thought about it, men had been giving free drinks to pretty girls forever. Was this any different? Supergirls were so very pretty, after all. She thought back to when she'd met Supergirl Rachel and been overwhelmed with the urge to kiss her. If the chance came up again, she wouldn't hold back. She closed her eyes for a moment and imagined what it would be like for her and the gorgeous American Supergirl to kiss and explore each other's mouths with their tongues. She opened her eyes again and had to resist the urge to stroke her wet pussy.

She downed her cocktail in one and, feeling cocky, snapped her fingers at the bartender to bring her another. After a few drinks, Aiko and Martha tore up the dance floor like only a pair of Supergirls could.

"That girl in the blue dress is checking you out," said Aiko as they danced.

"I know," said Martha. "Her boyfriend is pissed off about it."

"Who cares?" said Aiko. "She's pretty for a London girl. Dance with her. It's not like he can do anything to stop you. Tonight is about you having fun. Don't be such a stuck-up, no-fun English girl."

Martha laughed. It wasn't her fault if a guy couldn't stop his girlfriend's eyes from wandering. Maybe if he was a better boyfriend, she wouldn't be looking around for other options. She gestured to the girl in the blue dress and raised her eyebrows. The girl blushed in response and trotted over. The two of them danced as the girl's boyfriend watched, enraged.

She put her hands on either side of the girl's head, pulled her in close, and kissed her. The way the woman's body completely melted in response made Martha feel like she was sexually irresistible. The sensation was intoxicating. She knew she could have any woman in the club with a single word or gesture. Was this how the other Supergirls felt all the time?

"Hey, get your lips off my girl!"

Apparently the kiss had been too much for the boyfriend to bear and he stormed across the dancefloor to confront Martha.

Still heady from the passionate kiss, and a little drunk, Martha turned to him and said: "What are you going to do about it?" She kissed the girl again and gently squeezed her boobs for good measure.

The boyfriend swung at Martha. As soon as she noticed his intent, her adrenaline spiked and the world slowed down. Her lightning fast reflexes and super-senses gave her perfect situational awareness. She saw the clenched fist approach and knew it was coming at her fast, but she had all the time in the world to respond. She had any number of ways to deal with his attack, and enough time to consider them all before his punch landed.

She could grab his wrist and stop his attack in mid-air before it reached her. His feeble human strength was no match for hers and no matter how hard he struggled against her steely grip, he would be unable to press home his attack or even escape her grasp. A voice in her head pointed out that she could snap his wrist using only the tiniest fraction of her strength. She ignored the voice, but couldn't ignore the surge of pleasure she received at the thought of breaking the angry little man into pieces. Why stop at the wrist? She could work her way down his arm, snapping each bone in multiple places. Then the other arm, and then his legs. The pain he would feel as she broke his body by degrees would be unimaginable, and there wasn't a single thing he could do to stop her. His body was hers to destroy if she chose and the thought was more attractive than it should have been.

She could allow him to land his punch on her invulnerable jaw. The bones in his hand would snap just as surely as if he'd punched a block of solid steel. She imagined the sound of the crunch of his ruined fingers against her invulnerable flesh and almost moaned in ecstasy. Her skin felt as soft to the touch as any other woman's, but it was also impervious to harm. The body of a Supergirl was the toughest substance on Earth. Martha was only halfway to that point, but she was already tough enough that the man couldn't hope to hurt her with anything less than a tactical nuclear weapon. In three months, even the nuke wouldn't be enough. Why did the thought of how ineffectual he was compared to her turn her on so much?

Other, darker thoughts crowded in and she tried to dismiss them. His neck firmly grasped between her hands. One little twist was all it would take to snap it like a twig. She imagined her fist pushing through his face and skull like he was made of tissue paper. She could crush his spine with a press of her foot, crippling him for life. She had just enough control over her heat vision to unleash a single blast - the damage it would do to him was sickening to contemplate. She imagined laughing as he screamed and was burned alive. Where did these violent thoughts come from? Was it a darkness that had always been within her that her new powers had set free, or were the powers twisting her mind?

The man's life was entirely in her hands and that horrified and excited her in equal measure.

She chose to be merciful. Faster than the man could follow or react, she stepped to one side. When the person he had expected to hit suddenly wasn't there, he overbalanced and fell flat on his face.

The girl in the blue dress pointed and laughed. "Oh my god, Kevin. You're so pathetic." She turned to Martha with a hungry gleam in her eye. "There are some private rooms upstairs. You want to see if one of them is free?"

The man looked up at them, humiliation etched on his face, clutching his bloody nose, which Martha used her X-ray vision to confirm was broken. Martha weighed whether or not to complete her victory over him by taking his girlfriend as a trophy. She was high on adrenaline, lust, and alcohol. She had merely humbled him when she could have killed or crippled him just as easily. Surely he should be grateful for her mercy? Hadn't she earned a reward by showing restraint?

Martha caught Aiko's eye and the Japanese Supergirl winked at her and nodded. She took the girl in the blue dress by the hand and led her off the dance floor into paradise.

Three and a half months after becoming a Supergirl…

On her second visit, Kara Lang brought a full bottle of bourbon and two glasses.

"Do you drink bourbon in England?" she asked as she settled into the plush leather armchair.

Martha shook her head. "I never have."

Kara poured two generous shots. "You're in for a treat. This is the good stuff. The owners of the distillery and I are the only ones who get to drink it and I take most of it for myself."

Martha took a sip and was surprised at how much she liked it. "Thank you, Kara."

Kara leaned back in the chair. "I heard you had a fun night out with Aiko the other week. Did you learn anything new about being a Supergirl?"

Martha wasn't sure what Kara wanted to hear. Was Aiko's 'field trip' a test or a lesson of some kind? "I learned that self-control is hard when you're so much stronger than those around you."

Kara nodded. "Hmm. Is it even giving in to temptation when it's that easy and there are no consequences? You're the one with the philosophy degree. What's the old saying about power?"

"That power corrupts." Martha paused, remembering the rest. "And absolute power corrupts absolutely. Is our power absolute?"

Kara finished her bourbon in one swig and poured herself another. "In less than three months, your transformation will be complete and your power over humans will be absolute. If you continue to cling to their notions of morality, corruption is inevitable. If you accept that you are a goddess and therefore transcend human morality, then you are free to define yourself on your own terms."

"What if I define myself in a way the League of Supergirls doesn't like?"

Kara smiled. "I'll let you in on a little secret. We don't agree on much. I don't like most of the Supergirls. A lot of them are silly and have absurd ideas. A few of them are just batshit crazy. Are you familiar with Greek mythology?"

"A little.' Martha had read Homer's Iliad and the Odyssey when she was twelve.

"Then you know that divinity is no guarantee of wisdom. I don't know where you will land in our little pantheon. Maybe you will be a kinder, gentler Supergirl. Just because none of us have done it before, doesn't mean it's impossible. But I think you're starting to appreciate how hard it would be to go down that path."

"This power," said Martha, "It's just… intoxicating. My father was an alcoholic and I never understood how he couldn't have just one drink without going off the rails. I think I understand now. Having this much power is like being an alcoholic, except your own body is constantly producing alcohol, so you can never avoid it. At the nightclub, I gave in and took the tiniest sip and now I can't stop thinking about doing it all over again, but more. I want to go back and humiliate every man and fuck every woman in the place. I could beat them all, one at a time, or all at once, without breaking a sweat. It would be over in a matter of seconds. Last night I dreamed of stomping that man beneath my feet until the dance floor was slick with blood from end to end. It wasn't even a nightmare. I woke up happy and aroused."

"And you haven't even reached your full potential," said Kara. "If you think you have power now, just wait. You don't realize how much you've already changed and you have miles more to go."

"Why do I have this power? Where does it come from? Why was I chosen?"

"I don't know, Martha. Nobody does. It doesn't appear to be entirely random. There would be more Supergirls from China than just Chao-Xing if it were. That would imply conscious intent rather than a natural process. But who or what is behind that intent or what drives it to select one woman over another are mysteries we may never solve. But it doesn't matter where it comes from. You have the power. It's yours to use as you want."

Martha slumped. "I thought I would make the world a better place if I had powers, but I don't know how. I don't even know if I still want to."

Kara took Martha's hand in hers. "The world is better with us in charge. It's at peace in a way that could never have been achieved without our dominance. We destroyed their armies and melted their weapons to useless slag, so there can be no more war. We destroyed their nuclear bombs - except the one Ziana used to show off - so they can no longer destroy their planet. We forced them to confront climate change before it reached the point of no return."

"But you also terrorize and torment them mercilessly, you use them for your pleasure until they're broken, you demolish their homes to build palaces. You strip men of their rights on a whim. Your quick fix for climate change left tens of millions freezing in the dark for years. What Victoria has done in Costa Rica is horrifying and she brags about it."

"I will admit that Victoria and Eden have gone too far and need to be reined in, but it's only fair for humanity to pay a price for all we give them. If we didn't exist, they would wipe themselves out. Being playthings for a few dozen petulant Supergirls doesn't seem so bad compared to extinction does it?."

Martha shook her head. "I don't believe you. Is that why you did all of this? Took over the world, formed the League of Supergirls, carved the Spire out of a mountain. Was saving humanity from itself your plan from the start?"

"Heavens, no. In the beginning, I was just lashing out at a world that had taken everything from me. I used my powers to punish them for taking away the only things I had ever loved: my husband and that stupid fucking farm. Please excuse my language. Left to myself, I would have kept going until the world was burned to ash. It wasn't until Morowa, Katerina, and I sat down and talked that we realized we could be something greater together than we were apart."

"So you took over the world?"

"It was surprisingly therapeutic, and it wasn't done for the sake of humanity. They may benefit from our rule, but that's just a side effect. We dominate the world because we are goddesses and to rule over mortals is as natural to us as breathing is to a human." She looked at Martha's nearly full glass and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't come here to drink alone. I can do that any time."

Martha downed the rest of her bourbon. Kara poured another.

"Cheers!" Said the original Supergirl.

The next morning, Martha's head was pounding like it was home to a runaway jackhammer. She realized that this was the first time she'd felt pain since her birthday.

Supergirl Rachel knocked and entered without waiting for a response. She was wearing her black and silver costume and looked like a trillion dollars. She took one look at Martha lying in bed clutching her head and laughed.

"I see you've had the traditional drinking session with our philosopher-queen," she said. 'We've all been through it."

"I'm a Supergirl," said Martha. "How can I have a hangover? Shouldn't I be immune to alcohol?"

"It's a little joke by whoever or whatever gave us our powers. Cyanide, chlorine, nerve gas, heroin: we're immune to them all. The only poisons or drugs that have any effect on us are caffeine, alcohol and nicotine. Not enough to really hurt us, of course. So, yes, we can get drunk and be hungover the next day. Just like Katerina smokes an entire carton of those shitty Russian cigarettes every day because she's a filthy nicotine addict."

"It's not fair," grumbled Martha.

"If life were fair, there wouldn't be Supergirls. Get dressed. I'm supposed to give you an introduction to super-breath today."

"Fuck. My head. I'd forgotten what pain was like. Can we skip the lesson? Super-breath sounds kind of lame."

Rachel sat on the bed. Her short black skirt rode up, exposing more of her long, creamy legs as she pressed against Martha. Martha's heart skipped faster knowing that she was naked under the covers and the only thing separating her from Rachel's thigh was a thin silk sheet. Rachel's chest, covered by her skintight crop top was close enough to touch and Martha had to fight to keep from reaching out and caressing Rachel's prominent nipples.

"Super-breath is not lame," said Rachel. "Is freezing a lake in under five seconds lame? Is blowing a cruise ship on its side with a single puff lame? Is collapsing or exploding a man's lungs with a kiss lame? Gross but not lame." She paused and pressed her thigh tighter against Martha. "What did you think of Kara?"

Martha tried to control her breathing as she imagined kissing her way up Rachel's inner thighs all the way to the edge of her panties. And then biting those panties and ripping them off with her teeth. And then… The other Supergirl was so hot, it was easy to forget what an awful person she was..

"Um, Kara wasn't what I expected."

Rachel laughed. "Very diplomatic. Yeah, I wasn't expecting the OG Supergirl to be a crazy old broad spouting a bunch of hippy shit either. Just don't take anything she says too seriously. Don't fret about philosophy or being a true goddess or whatever kick she's on at the moment. Just be Supergirl and make your own fucking fun."

"So… what kind of fun do you like to make?"

"Oh my God, girl. You are as subtle as a sledgehammer. You think my super-hearing doesn't spot your heart rate rising every time I press a little bit closer?" As she said that, she squeezed against Martha a little more. "Just how fucking wet are you for me right now?"

Martha blushed. "I'm drenched. My pussy gushes every time you move. It's really not helping with the dehydration."

Rachel stood up and straightened her skirt. "Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to get you a gallon of water and watch you drink it. Then, I'm going to burn your pussy to the ground for an hour or two. If you can still walk after that, I'm going to teach you the fucking fundamentals of super-breath. How does that sound?"

Martha hadn't heard anything after Rachel had mentioned the plans for her pussy. "Good stuff. Totally on board with all of that." It took all of her self control not to masturbate while Rachel was getting water.

Five months after becoming a Supergirl…

Chao-Xing adjusted her laser scope one more time and measured Martha's bust again.

"Don't breathe! It messes up the measurements when you breathe. You're a Supergirl. You don't need to breathe. If I'm even a millimeter off, your top will rip when you arch your back and stick out your boobies."

"So, this is as big as they're going to get?" Asked Martha, looking down at her breasts.

"Yes," said Chao-Xing in an irritated tone. "Your physical changes are complete. Your boobies are done growing."

Martha looked at herself in the mirror again. She had grown seven inches and gained lean muscle across her body, including an insane six pack of toned abs. Her bust was larger than it had been, but nowhere near as big as some of the other Supergirls. Michele's record as the bustiest Supergirl was in no danger of being broken. Martha's features were still recognizably her own, but somehow far more attractive than before. She had to admit that she was a knockout.

Now, Chao-Xing was measuring her for a Supergirl costume.

"I don't even know if I'm going to join the League," said Martha. "I may not need the costume."

Chao-Xing swiped across the back of Martha's legs, hard enough to sting. "Don't be silly. All Supergirls join the League."

"I'm not even sure I want to be called Supergirl."

Chao-Xing gasped. "Who has given you these stupid ideas? Was it Kara? She has many strange notions that you should not listen to."

"It's not Kara. I just don't know if I feel like a Supergirl."

That wasn't entirely true. Almost every night for the past six weeks, Rachel had made her feel like a Supergirl over and over, and she had eagerly returned the favor. Martha felt a strange sense of shame about her ongoing situationship with Rachel. The sex was amazing, but there were constant reminders of how cruel Rachel could be. On nights when she stayed over, as they were drifting off to sleep, Rachel would tell her about some twisted torment she'd inflicted on one of the innocent humans unfortunate enough to cross her path.

Last night, after they had given each other dozens of orgasms that were more intense than mere humans could have handled, Rachel had described how she'd forced the world heavyweight champion to step into the ring with her for a televised fight. The sadistic Supergirl had toyed with the human boxer for ten rounds, slowly breaking him down from a peak human specimen to a bag of pulverized meat in unbearable agony. Ten seconds before the final bell, when the poor man had barely been able to stand, Rachel had unleashed a right hook with all of her strength behind it and had reduced his head to a fine spray, coating the front row of the audience.

At first, Martha had been horrified by Rachel's stories, but as time went on, she almost began to enjoy them. Rachel was so passionate about ruining the lives of ordinary people for her own entertainment that it was hard not to get swept up in her excitement. It was easy to forget that Rachel's victims were real people. Over the last month, humans had begun to seem more and more like insubstantial shadows instead of people. They were wisps of smoke compared to the solidity of Martha and her lover. What was one less wisp in the grand scheme of things?

"You will join," said Chao-Xing. "Supergirls always do. Fiona, Adrianna, and even Rachel had cold feet as well, but in the end they were glad to be a part of the League."

There was one very good reason to join: the vote she would have on all decisions made by the League. She would be one of only thirty-four people with any say in running the world. She could do a lot more good from the inside than she ever could from the outside.

Would the other Supergirls even accept her not joining? With all the power at her command, it was easy to forget there was one thing in the world that could hurt a Supergirl: another Supergirl. Thirty-three against one were not odds she was eager to explore.

Then there was Rachel. Martha wasn't sure if she was in love, but if she wasn't already it was only a matter of time. Rachel would feel betrayed if Martha didn't join the League and the thought of disappointing Rachel made her heart ache.

What would she even do without the resources of the League? As her powers grew, her interest in using them to help others diminished, even if it hadn't completely disappeared. The idea of flying around like some kind of super-powered girl scout solving trivial human problems didn't appeal to her. It wasn't like she could make a real difference on her own. Humans created problems for themselves faster than even a Supergirl could solve them.

"When will it be ready?" asked Martha. "Can I try it on before I join the League?"

"Two weeks," said Chao-Xing. "I need to synthesize enough strange matter, then the quantum loom has to extrude the material, and then I have to cut and bind it using heat vision. You can try it on at the final fitting."

"It almost feels like I'm getting married and waiting for my wedding dress."

Chao-Xing laughed. "Don't mention marriage around Rachel or you'll scare her off!"

Martha blushed. She hadn't realized the other Supergirls knew about her and Rachel, but obviously they did. Keeping a secret like that from women with super-senses would have been impossible.

Five and a half months since becoming a Supergirl…

"I can't do it!" screamed Martha. "I won't do it!"

Rachel threw her arms up in frustration. "It's part of the initiation. All the Supergirls have done it. Fiona did it last year and she was as soft as a kitten when she arrived on the Spire."

"You're talking about murdering people in cold blood so I can join a club."

Martha had just found out about the final part of the initiation process for a Supergirl to join the League of Supergirls. Five men would be brought to the Spire - the only time that humans were ever allowed to set foot in the Supergirls' sanctuary - and Martha would be expected to end each of their lives using a different superpower.

"These are not innocents," said Rachel. "The men selected for the ritual are the worst that humanity has to offer. Each of them has plenty of blood on their hands."

Martha crossed her arms in front of her chest. "It's sick. I've never believed in the death penalty."

"You killed a man last week in Vegas. How is this any different?"

A chill ran through Martha as she remembered the day trip she and Rachel had taken to Las Vegas. It was non-stop fun. For Martha's sake, Rachel had held her worst instincts in check and the damage left in their wake had been minimal and limited to buildings and property. Then a drunk had made the mistake of pinching Martha's ass while she was leaning over the craps table. She had reacted instinctively and slapped him across the face. The horrifying image of the effect her unrestrained super strength had on a normal human body was seared into her memory. The palm of her hand had parted the man's flesh and bone as if it had the consistency of pudding. He had slowly crumpled to the ground with the top three-quarters of his head missing, blood spraying everywhere. The worst of it was that she'd enjoyed it. The feeling of her power fully unleashed against a defenseless human had been exhilarating.

"That was an accident," said Martha.

"Supergirls don't have accidents. Your reaction time is so fast, you could have stopped yourself at any moment before you struck him. You chose to end his life because he disrespected you."

She knew what Rachel said was true. She'd been furious at the man, but she'd been in control of her actions every step of the way. She could have held back but she hadn't wanted to, she hadn't needed to. The man was beneath her and snuffing his tiny life out was of no consequence. He had messed with a fucking Supergirl and he had paid the appropriate price in full. She had killed someone for the first time and it felt good when it should have horrified her.

"Oh fuck. What's happened to me? I don't even know who I am any more."

Rachel kissed her gently. "You're no longer simply Martha. You've become a Supergirl Martha. That's who you are now."

Martha returned Rachel's kiss with interest. "Does it get easier?"

"It did for me, but every Supergirl is different. You've held on to your humanity longer than any Supergirl I've seen, but even you cannot deny your nature. Kara may talk a lot of nonsense, but she's right about one thing: compared to the rest of the world, we really are goddesses."

"With great power comes great irresponsibility," said Martha.

Rachel laughed. "Something like that. Come on, Chao-Xing has finished your costume. I can't wait to see what you look like wearing it. And then we can explore a few things when you're not wearing anything."

Six months after becoming a Supergirl…

With a small and rapidly fading twinge of guilt, Martha turned away from the remains of the five men she had ended as part of her initiation into the League. She couldn't entirely explain why she had agreed to take part in the barbaric ritual. She didn't understand it herself. But in the end, the lives of five bad men seemed irrelevant next to becoming part of the League. Now that she was a Supergirl, the others were the only beings on the planet who could understand her. It was a sisterhood of goddesses and the idea of being on the outside of it was inconceivable.

At the start of the initiation, Kara had presented her with her custom-tailored Supergirl costume. After changing into the black and silver costume at super-speed, she had then used her powers to snuff out the lives of the sacrificial men, one after the other.

She had killed the first man using her super strength. Humans bodies were fragile things when confronted with the nearly limitless strength she wielded with her delicate-looking hands. She could have killed him with her little finger. She had lifted him over her head and ripped him into two halves with a single pull. He had come apart like a Christmas cracker.

The second man had discovered the terrible power of her heat vision. The beams she could project from her eyes at will burned hotter than the sun. She had reduced him to a floating cloud of ash in under a second. She comforted herself that his death had at least been quick.

The death of the third man both intrigued and haunted her. She had grabbed him firmly by the shoulders and shaken him at supersonic speed. The mechanics of his death were as fascinating as they were horrific. His insides had liquefied when subjected to that much acceleration. The sound of what had once been his organs sloshing around inside his skin would stay with her for a long time.

The fourth man had met his end pressed against her invulnerable and impossibly firm breasts. In the contest between his weak flesh and her impenetrable body, there could only be one winner. The man's face had caved in to form a perfect impression of her boob. His ruined face had left a bloodstain on her uniform which she had burned away with a quick flash of heat vision.

Finally, she had frozen the last man to a solid block of ice with her super-breath. She had breathed in a massive volume of air and unleashed it against him as a frigid funnel of wind only a few degrees above absolute zero. The process was almost instantaneous. Then she marched over to his statue-like frozen form and pushed it over. He had shattered into a thousand shards of flash-frozen meat when he hit the floor.

Martha looked at the assembled League of Supergirls as they applauded. The thirty-three incredible, beautiful women who dominated the world like it was nothing were all casually hovering a foot above the floor.

She looked down. The silver 'S' symbol emblazoned across her chest proclaimed that she was one of them. Now that she was wearing the costume, any thought of how impractical it was disappeared. The short skirt that showed her long, lean legs in all their glory felt right. The skin tight crop top that bound her magnificent breasts and left her powerful midriff on display was almost a part of her. The black boots made her feel like she could crush the world beneath her feet. The long black cape fluttering behind her was just the right finishing touch: it told the world that she was not just powerful, but that she was an authority. She truly was a Supergirl.

"What happens now?" she asked.

At the front of the group, Kara smiled. "First, we have cocktails. Then we get down to business with your first League session. Aiko has proposed that males should be required to wear heavy metal collars at all times, and Eden wants to turn Indonesia into a nature reserve. I'm sure you'll have something to say about both of those interesting ideas."

As they made their way to the meeting chamber, Rachel floated alongside Martha and took her hand.

"This is the tedious part of being a Supergirl. Meetings. So, have you given any thought to where you're going to build your palace?"

The best way Martha could think of to improve the estate she'd grown up on was to tear the bloody thing down and build her fucking palace on the ruins. And if some of the thugs and drug dealers ended up in the foundations, where was the harm in that?

"London, of course. Greatest city in the world, innit?"