[Anonymous]

Hi all, Im looking for a story called : The Girl who wanted to become a SuperHero. It first appeared on DTV about 2-3 years ago, possibly more, after a search multiple times i cant seem to recover it- Any help would be great, thanx!

[rob000]

The girl who wanted to be a super-heroine

By Morphinman

My name is Don. You might not believe the story I’m gonna tell you … but that’s okay. I know what happened and I can hardly believe it myself. There’s really no way I could prove any of it, and Brittany’s not around anymore, so … well, anyway … here’s the story and you can believe it or not, I don’t care. It all started when I was fourteen years old and a young couple moved into the house across the street. They had a cute kid named Brittany who was four years old. The mother’s name was Gail and she was a really nice lady. I didn’t get to know her husband very well, and it was only a few months later that I found out they were having trouble with their marriage. Before a full year had passed, Brittany’s father had moved out and had filed for divorce. It was sad, because Gail was a really great person and now she had to switch to working full-time to make ends meet.

Brittany was five now, and she had started kindergarten, so she needed a baby sitter in the afternoon until her mom got home from work. It was a good way for me to earn a little extra money during the school year. Brittany was obsessed with comic book heroes. She had a box of old comics her father had given her and she was always bugging her mom for new comics when they went to a store. Her favorite was Supergirl, and she liked to pretend she was Supergirl by running around the house holding the end of a bath towel around her neck so that it fluttered out behind her like a cape. I read the comics to her – some of them over and over – and Brittany told everyone that when she grew up she was going to be a super-hero. It was kind of cute, and everybody laughed. One afternoon my mom dropped Brittany and me off at the mall. The kid was pretty patient while I shopped for some new clothes, so I told her I’d buy her a treat before we left. I expected her to run over to the toy store or maybe the candy shop, but on the way out of the department store Brittany suddenly stopped and pointed. " There … I want that!" she yelled. At first I didn’t see what she meant. she was pointing at a rack of children’s pajamas. Brittany ran right up and grabbed a package on the bottom of one of the shelves. It was the only one with a little blue color showing on the edge. When she handed it to me I saw it was a pair of Supergirl pajamas that looked just like the real Supergirl outfit. It was blue, with a red "skirt" printed on the bottoms. I couldn’t figure out how she had seen it, much less how she had known what it was. " Are you sure this is what you want?" I asked. " Yes! … Yes! … Yes-s-s-s!!!" she shouted, jumping up and down. The cashier scanned the bar code and the register made a rude noise. She tried it again with the same result. After calling over the manager and checking where we had found it on the shelf, the manager just shrugged and told us we could have it for half the price of the others. That was fortunate, because I didn’t have enough money left over otherwise. So everything worked out just right, and Brittany got her Supergirl PJs. Back at Brittany’s house she had to try them on right away. It was all I could do to keep her from tearing her clothes off in the car on the way home. There was a full-length mirror on the closet door in her bedroom, and Brittany liked to stand in front of it in her Supergirl outfit and admire her image. She really loved those PJs and wore them all the time at home, not just at bedtime. She even had her mom buy a red bath towel, to make a more realistic cape. I took off my wallet chain and used it to attach the towel around Brittany’s neck so she didn’t have to hold onto it. I didn’t get my chain back after that. " I’m Supergirl!" Brittany would say, making her voice as low as possible. she would flex her muscles and pose. Of course, she didn’t have any muscles yet, but that didn’t stop her from flexing an arm in front of my face or puffing her chest and telling me to feel it. It was my job to act impressed and tell her how strong she was. This would satisfy her, and she would run off through the house holding her arms out in front of her and making whooshing noises as she pretended to fly. It kind of surprised me that Brittany never seemed to tire of this game. she wanted to play Supergirl every day, and frankly, I got sick of it. But I got a break when Brittany went to live with her dad over the summer. Because of this, I hardly got to see her at all until the fall. I didn’t really have time to spend with Brittany anyway. The coach of the swim team got me a part-time job as a junior lifeguard and I had another job doing clean-up work at two local businesses.

When she started the first grade, Brittany was six and I had just turned sixteen. Brittany had grown up a little over the summer and was just as full of energy as ever. She could read a little bit now, and we would go through her box of old comics almost every day after school. she still put on those Supergirl pajamas and ran through the house. She filled them out a little tighter now, and the way the knit fabric stretched over her body looked pretty good, I thought. It almost looked like a real costume. One day I was reading Brittany an old Supergirl comic that showed the team working out in their gymnasium. Supergirl was lifting weights and her sidekicks, Diamond Gal and the Quartz Girl were doing gymnastics on the rings and parallel bars. Brittany got really excited and asked me what they were doing. I told her that they were exercising to keep in shape. Brittany figured that this was what she needed to do to become a super-heroine and get all muscular and strong like Supergirl. Once the idea got into her head, she was determined. Brittany had seen that I had a set of weights in the corner of my bedroom. I’ll admit I didn’t use them as much as I should, but Brittany wanted me to teach her how to lift weights and get strong. So we started working out almost every day after school. Of course, Brittany could barely lift the bars without any weight on them at first, but she kept trying hard every day. The next week she showed me a new little set of plastic weights for kids that her dad had bought for her. Now Brittany could stay home and put on her Supergirl pajamas and go through all the exercises on the instructional poster that came with the weight set. Then she would stand in front of the mirror on her closet door and flex her muscles, looking hard for any sign of improvement. The gymnastics thing took a little longer, but as usual Brittany was determined to get what she wanted. she wore her mom down until she arranged with her dad to pay for lessons at a private gymnastics school. The little kids her age started out with just some tumbling and stretching, but Brittany complained right away that she wanted to work out on the other equipment like the big girls. The instructors held off for a while, but even they got worn down by Brittany’s determination. After only a few lessons, Brittany was trying out the smaller practice parallel bars. Both her instructors and I were impressed by her ability and strength at such a young age. And Brittany had one other quality that was even more important for her success – she was completely confident and fearless. Even when she fell, she didn’t hesitate to try something again and again until she got it right. It was about this time when I realized that Brittany was a natural athlete, and she would probably use her natural strength and coordination to develop into something special.

By the time spring came around, Brittany had learned a few simple gymnastic routines. She told me she had outgrown her little plastic set of weights at home and she would sometimes ask if we could go to my bedroom and lift. It was strange to see a little six year old put iron plates onto each dumbbell and do curls with real weight. And she attacked her workouts like a demon. It was kind of spooky to see the mature attitude she took toward working out and developing her body. I thought it was for her gymnastics, but Brittany kept insisting that she was doing it to become a super-hero. She would always put on the Supergirl pajamas before she lifted weights, and she would flex in the mirror and talk to herself like Supergirl afterward. When she asked me to feel her muscles now, I didn’t have to pretend to be impressed. Brittany’s muscles had really firmed up and become stronger, and the fabric of those pajamas was starting to fit tighter over the body of a young girl athlete. That summer I got my dream job at the country club as an assistant lifeguard. Even though I was still too skinny for my height, I felt cool sitting up there in the lifeguard’s chair. I wasn’t one of the fastest guys on the swimming team in high school, but I was good with kids and enjoyed my job and my boss told me I was one of the best lifeguards on her staff. I probably saw Brittany even less that summer than the year before. So when fall came around and I resumed my job as her babysitter, it was a shock to see how much older Brittany looked now that she was a second-grader. I had worked out a little over the summer, mostly doing laps in the pool, but Brittany had obviously worked out a lot! The first thing she did when she saw me was pull up the sleeve of her tee shirt and flex her arm. My eyes just about popped out of my head when I saw a little ball of muscle rise up on her arm that looked about as hard as any teenager’s muscle! And when I felt it there was no doubt that Brittany was a lot stronger than she was last spring. I pinched and squeezed that solid little lump from every angle and told her her muscles were getting really hard. She just smiled and ran off to put on her favorite pajamas. When she called me into her room I found her flexing in front of the mirror, as usual. But this time I nearly fell down with shock! That pair of pajamas that fit her loosely as a five-year-old was now so tight that it clung to her seven-year-old body like a second skin. The sleeves and legs were several inches too short now, but the effect of seeing Brittany in that suit really did make her look like a miniature super-hero. she put her fists on her hips and stood with her feet apart just like Supergirl. Then she would tense her whole body and admire how her growing young muscles would bulge and stretch the material. I had to keep reminding myself that Brittany was only seven years old. She was bigger than a lot of ten year olds I knew from working at the pool over the summer. I put one hand on her shoulder and rubbed the other hand over her chest, sliding it across the S logo. Brittany threw back her shoulders and puffed out her chest a little more as she flexed her young pecs as tight as she could. I couldn’t believe how broad her chest had become, and my hand kept stroking the muscles as I tried to comprehend how much Brittany had transformed her body since I first met her. I got a little carried away squeezing her shoulder and stroking her chest, but Brittany didn’t seem to mind. She was proud to have bigger muscles than all the other girls her age at school, and she loved to show them off. We still looked at comic books together, but now Brittany did more of the reading and I just helped a little. Things were a little different when she put on her " suit" and played Supergirl, however. Brittany used to just run around the house and battle " pretend" villains, but now she wanted me to play the bad guy and she would catch me. She was getting a lot more physical, and when she caught me and wrapped those strong little arms around my body she would pick me up and throw me to the ground like it was easy for her. I had to be careful when she pretended to throw punches and beat me up. She didn’t try to hit me, of course, but when I heard the rush of air as her fist flew in front of my face I realized that if Brittany made contact she could do real damage. I was still shocked whenever I grabbed her and felt how solid her body was … there was real strength in those young muscles now, and I was always surprised to discover how much trouble I had trying to hold her down when we wrestled. Brittany was becoming a pretty good gymnast as well. her coaches entered her in a competition and put her in with the 10-12 year old girls because they didn’t have a division young enough for her. I heard she did really well, even though Brittany didn’t brag about it. Most of the judges didn’t even know she was three years too young to be in the competition. She sometimes did things around the house that showed off her gymnastic skills. She could not only do a handstand, but she could walk on her hands for long distances. Brittany told me she could do an " iron cross" on the rings and proved it by setting up two high-backed dining room chairs and assuming the position with outstretched arms as she bent her knees and lifted her feet off the floor. She held that pose for several seconds to show how strong she was. She also was quite flexible from her gymnastic training and could do the splits easily. I assumed she would go on to become an accomplished gymnast, but I was wrong. The only thing that kept Brittany interested in gymnastics was that it was making her stronger. She still talked about becoming a super-heroine, just like she did when she was five years old. she wanted to learn how to fight, and asked her mom if she could take karate lessons. She told her that she couldn’t afford it on top of her gymnastics, so she dropped the gymnastics and took up martial arts. Her coaches were devastated, but Brittany was adamant. Knowing how to fight was more important for a super-heroine, she said. Brittany’s martial arts instructor said she was her most dedicated and hard-working new student. You could always tell when Brittany was out on the floor. Her shouts were the loudest and her movements were the most vigorous and violent. She was faster than the other students her age, too. Her punches and leg kicks were so fast they were a blur, and her fists and feet made whooshing noises as they flew through the air. Brittany was a natural at almost every sport she tried. Brittany was still lifting weights, too, but she didn’t come over to my house to lift anymore. She convinced her dad that she had outgrown her little plastic dumbbell set and needed some real iron now, and her dad loaned her her own weight set complete with workout bench. Sometimes when she was real quiet and I wondered what she was doing, I would walk down the hall toward her room and hear the soft little grunts that told me she was lifting weights again. she liked to be alone now when she lifted weights, so I usually didn’t bother her. I figured it was something she did when she was feeling frustrated and wanted to let off a little steam, or maybe when she was feeling angry about her parent’s divorce. Brittany was still putting on her Supergirl pajamas and pretending to be a super-heroine. But playtime was becoming more and more violent as she started using her karate fighting skills when we played Supergirl vs. Bad Guy. She once threw a pretend punch to my gut and when I doubled over in mock pain she followed with a karate kick to the side of my head that laid me out flat. It was an accident – she didn’t mean to make contact – but I was really stunned for a moment and Brittany was concerned. She helped me up off the floor and scooped me up in her arms and carried me over to the sofa to lie down. I was still clearing my head when I realized what had just happened. Not only did Brittany almost knock me out with a kick that moved too fast for me to see, she lifted me up and carried me across the room like I weighed almost nothing! I blinked up at her and noticed the way her arms and shoulders were stretching out the material of her tight pajamas and wondered just how strong this seven-year-old kid was. For the first time I felt a little spooked by it all, and a little confused. The school year was almost over when Brittany had her first martial arts competition. I went with her mom and watched Brittany defeat girl after girl in her age group throughout the afternoon. As she sat with us before her final bout, Brittany told me she was wearing her favorite pajama bottoms in place of underwear. She couldn’t wear the top because they all had to wear the special white robe for competition, but Brittany said she was going to be tough and strong in the final match, just like Supergirl. I looked at her taking deep breaths and calming herself before the competition. Her big chest pushed open the front of the robe and revealed the swelling size of her surprisingly muscular young pecs. I wondered to myself how much weight she used now when she did bench presses. It must have been a lot to build that kind of muscle on such a young girl. Her pecs even had some definition, with a split down the middle that showed off how the muscles were starting to build thickness. I was going to ask Gail what she thought about how muscular Brittany was becoming when they called her name over the P.A. system, and we started clapping and shouting as Brittany walked out onto the mat. The girl Brittany was facing in the final match was supposedly eight years old, but I thought she looked at least nine and I wondered if her parents were lying about her age. She was clearly bigger than Brittany, but that didn’t intimidate our little Supergirl at all. When the match started, Brittany attacked like a lion, and the other girl was forced into defensive moves right away. Brittany made some mistakes and paid for her aggression sometimes, but overall she was making the most moves and scoring the most points. Ultimately, she wore the larger girl down and dominated the end of the match. You could see the exhaustion on the bigger girl’s face as she struggled just to hold her hands up, while every punch and every kick Brittany threw knocked her outmatched opponent to the ground. Finally, the referee waved her arms and called the match. she raised Brittany’s arm in victory and Gail and I went wild as the whole room cheered. Brittany came over and gave her mom and me a big hug before the trophy ceremony. Her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing hard, and her robe was all undone and open in front. You could see all the perfect little squares of muscle in her stomach heaving and tightening as she panted, and her barrel chest was expanding bigger than ever as she drew in a few deep breaths. Brittany was not just an active little girl anymore … she was a top young athlete with the training, skills, and conditioning to be a winner. Watching her go back out to the center of the mat to receive her trophy, I started to look at Brittany in a new light. For the first time, I really admired and respected her for all she had accomplished, and yes, I even looked up to her as someone who had used hard work and determination to build herself into a champion. Brittany stood in the spotlight holding the trophy above her head while the crowd applauded and Gail took pictures. At that moment I was feeling very envious of Brittany and her athletic ability. her open robe showed off her strong upper body, which was glistening with sweat. She flashed them all the perfect smile of a confident young jock. I knew things were going to be different that summer, but I didn’t know how much things were going to change.

I graduated from high school and prepared to go on to college. My dad got a promotion and would soon be moving up to company headquarters in another state. Brittany’s dad married her live-in girlfriend. All this news seemed to hit Brittany kind of hard. I had been sort of a big brother to her over the years and now I was going away – perhaps for good. Brittany was starting to act sullen and moody, and her temper was flaring more often. I was made the assistant supervisor for the lifeguards, so I had to work even more hours that summer, especially weekends, and I found it hard to make any time for Brittany. My job ended on Labor Day, and I didn’t have to be at college for another week, so I told Gail I would baby-sit Brittany on Friday and try to get her used to the idea of me leaving. Brittany was eight years old now, and I had just had my eighteenth birthday. I never got used to how fast Brittany was growing. Over just the last few months she had gotten taller and bigger, and even her features were taking on a more mature look. When she came home after school on Friday, I spread my arms to give her a hug, but she just said, " Hi!," and ran off to the kitchen for a snack. I could sense that Brittany was going to be upset about me going off to college. she didn’t want to read comic books with me anymore … she read them to herself now. she was kind of cold and distant, and it made me sad. I tried to sit her down and explain things to her, but it didn’t go well. I don’t remember exactly what happened, but we ended up getting into an argument. Brittany ran off and I heard her bedroom door slam. I gave her about half an hour and then went and knocked on her door. I heard the soft little grunts and the clink of iron plates that told me she was lifting weights again. I opened the door just as she was finishing a set and dropping the heavy weights to the floor. My mouth nearly hit the floor as well. Brittany was wearing that old pair of Supergirl pajamas, even though the legs and sleeves now barely covered her knees and elbows. The knit fabric was stretched to it’s absolute limit over the young athlete’s pumped muscles.

Brittany was flushed and sweaty, and a few damp reddish blond curls were plastered to the beads of perspiration on her forehead. she turned and stood looking at me with a blank expression. I couldn’t believe the physique on the little girl that stood right in front of me. Brittany’s bulging muscular shoulders looked almost as broad as my own, and her waist was tiny by comparison. I had never seen a V-taper like that on such a young kid. her chest muscles showed their thick, square shape as they pushed out the fabric and caused the shirt to pull up until it exposed the bottom half of her stomach. The neat little squares of muscle that made up Brittany’s abs were sharply defined around her belly button, and they looked hard even as she stood there relaxed. Her thighs were so big they touched in the middle, even though her knees were a few inches apart. You could also see some definition in her quads through the straining blue fabric. The lower part of her legs were bare, so it was easy to see the width of her strong young calf muscles. But Brittany’s eight-year-old arms were just sensational! I admired the rippling cable-like muscles of her forearms before focusing my attention on the amazing thickness of her upper arms. With her arms just hanging loose at her sides, each biceps was like a thick ridge of muscle running from elbow to shoulder. And you could see the wider triceps muscle pushing out the blue fabric behind. I took a deep breath and swallowed hard before I could say anything. In the past I’d been pretty cool and avoided giving her too much praise about her athletic body. But all that composure went out the window in an instant!

"Wow!! … Brittany!! … Look at you!! … Look at those muscles!! … You’re lookin’ huge, girl!!" I sputtered. Brittany didn’t smile or anything. She tightened her hands into fists and curled her arms up halfway a couple of times. her little-girl biceps knotted up into tight balls of muscle. The fabric was stretched so tight it actually changed color, becoming a lighter blue. I couldn’t resist … I walked up and grabbed her upper arm and gave it a squeeze. It was not just hard … it was shockingly hard! I just kept shaking my head in disbelief. There was no way a kid could have muscles like that! I expected Brittany’s biceps to feel firm, but not as hard and dense as a rock! " Girl, how strong are you?" I exclaimed. " I can’t believe what I’m feeling!" Brittany jerked her arm away from me and took her super-heroine stance, with her fists on her waist and her legs apart. " I’m Supergirl!! Supergirl is the strongest girl in the universe!!" she said. " You don’t stand a chance against the power of Supergirl!" Brittany continued. " I’m going to capture you and take you off to jail!" That was my cue to start running. I turned and headed out the door and down the hall. Brittany followed and tackled me by the ankles. I fell down flat and hit my chin on the carpet. Brittany jumped up and down on my butt with her bare feet. As I tried to scramble up I felt Brittany grab the rear waistband of my jeans with both hands and pull me up and back. I hollered as I felt myself being yanked all the way backward until I hit the floor again, this time banging the back of my head. Brittany jumped onto my stomach and I felt her toes dig into my tummy. I had fallen in the archway at the end of the hall, which was just narrow enough so that Brittany could extend her arms and place her hands flat against each wall. " Try and get up!" she said. I lifted my shoulders and tried to prop myself up on my elbows. Brittany tightened her hands against the walls and pressed down with her feet on my stomach. I groaned as I felt her heels digging deep into my abdomen. I looked up and saw her arm and shoulder muscles standing out in sharp relief as she pressed against the walls. She was grinning and gritting her teeth at the same time. She took a deep breath and I watched the big " S" on her chest grow as her chest expanded. Brittany exhaled and I watched her belly button narrow as her stomach muscles tightened. The V-shape of her torso was amazing! Then she flexed her legs and pressed down with her toes as her calf muscles began to contract. I couldn’t breathe as I felt the balls of her feet crushing my diaphragm. Brittany’s shoulders were really bulging now, and I became worried as I remembered how long she could hold the " iron cross" position when she demonstrated it to me last year. " Okay, you got me … I give!" I said, but Brittany didn’t let up. I grabbed her ankles and tried to pull her feet off me, but they were digging too deep into my gut and her leg muscles just kept flexing harder! I ran my hands up to her calves and tried to bend her knees by pulling them forward, but her legs were as rigid as a steel beam! I looked up to see Brittany straining as she flexed every muscle by pushing out against the walls and down on my stomach at the same time. Then she looked down at me and smiled, knowing that she had me helpless. Brittany was clearly enjoying the feel of her strong young muscles as she worked them to the limit. By this time I was starting to panic and I badly needed to get some air. " Come on … I’m captured!" I sputtered. " Take me off to jail!" Brittany made me groan some more as she tightened her leg muscles and crushed me with her feet again. " You need to be taught a lesson!" she said, in her super-heroine voice. " Supergirl is going to crush you until you say you’ll never do bad things again!" " Okay … okay!" I gasped. I had both hands wrapped around her calves and I felt them tighten again as she dug her toes deeper into my gut. I coughed and sputtered as I felt her young calf muscles flex into full hardness under my fingers. My insides felt like they were being squished down to the floor! " Okay … what?" she growled, staring at me with an angry scowl on her face. I gulped a few shallow pants of air and tried to compose myself. " Okay … I promise to … never do … bad things again." I said, trying to remember exactly what she wanted me to say. " That’s better!" Brittany declared. But she kept crushing my stomach a few more agonizing seconds before she jumped up in the air and landed a final hard blow to my aching gut. I grabbed my stomach and rolled on my side, panting to catch my breath. Brittany kept nudging her foot against my shoulder. " Get up! I’m taking you off to jail now," she said. I slowly got to my feet and headed for the living room. I needed to lie down on the sofa for awhile. " Hey, where do you think you’re going?" Brittany said, trying to cut me off. I pushed her aside and went into the living room. " Leave me alone," I said. " Game’s over." " Oh, no you don’t!" Brittany cried. she pulled the waistband of my jeans from behind again and I stumbled backward. While I was still off balance Brittany grabbed two handfuls of the front of my shirt and with a mighty heave she slammed my back hard against the wall. Then Brittany did something he’d never done to me before. She reared back with her right arm and gave her best karate yell as she threw a devastating punch deep into my aching gut. I doubled over with an agonizing groan and my knees buckled as I collapsed to the floor.

Just at that moment I heard Gail’s voice. " Brittany! … My God! … What are you doing?" she gasped. Brittany backed up and froze. Suddenly she wasn’t Supergirl anymore, she was just a little girl. I got to my knees and tried to speak. " Are you all right, Don?" Gail said, as she helped me up. " I’m okay," I said, but I was panting and I’m sure she could hear the pain in my voice. " We were just playing and it got a little rough, I guess." Brittany didn’t say anything. she just stood there like a statue. " I don’t care what you were doing, Brittany knows better than to hit someone like that!" she cried. " You’re going off to bed right now, mister! And I’m not letting you wear your favorite pajamas either!" She made Brittany raise her hands up as she pulled her pajama tops off. It fit so tight that she had to go slow while she wiggled her beefy little torso loose. Gail grabbed Brittany’s bare shoulders and turned her to face me. " You apologize to Don right this instant," she demanded. Brittany stuck out her lower lip and stared at the floor. We waited in silence for several seconds. " That’s all right," I said. " I know she didn’t mean it." " No, it isn’t all right," Gail insisted. " I think it’s time my daughter had a good old fashioned spanking." She sat down and pulled Brittany over her knee. I felt like I should leave, but I figured she wanted me to witness the punishment. Gail pulled down the waistband of Brittany’s’ pajamas, exposing her bare bottom. She raised her hand and gave it a good slap. It made a loud smacking sound, but Brittany didn’t cry. Her head was down nearly touching the floor, but I could see her face remain calm. Gail spanked her twice more, each time raising her hand higher, as if she realized she wasn’t causing her any pain yet. Brittany’s face stayed relaxed as her mother struck her a fourth and fifth time. Then she did something amazing. She put her hands behind her head and began to raise her shoulders until her back was parallel to the floor. I saw the muscles in her buttocks dimple as they flexed tight. Gail slammed her hand down again and I think I saw her wince as it made a higher pitched sound, like she was hitting something very hard. " Hey, stop doing that!" she yelled. She placed her free hand between her shoulder blades and pushed down. Brittany’s shoulders dipped several inches before she resisted her. With a determined effort she slowly raised her back up again until it locked in place parallel to the floor. Gail continued to push down hard but she could not get her to budge. Brittany’s lower back muscles were standing out in two sharp ridges. The gluteus muscles of her buttocks were flexing hard with deep indentations on each side. Finally, in frustration, Gail raised her hand high and brought it down as hard as she could. She let out a little scream and a look of real pain came over her face as she realized her hand had hit something as hard as a rock. She pushed Brittany off her lap and grabbed her aching hand, trying to massage the pain out of it. I stood there open mouthed and swallowed hard, not knowing what to say and hardly believing what I saw. Brittany pulled up her pants and stood there with a frown on her face and her lip sticking out. " That didn’t hurt a bit!" she whined, and I believed her. Her eyes were dry and she never reacted at all to being hit. Brittany ran off to her room and left us there to marvel at what we’d just seen. Gail apologized to me and said she didn’t know what had come over her daughter.

"I have an idea," I said. " My boss at the country club has a nice old farmhouse out in the country and he’s out of town for the weekend. I told her I’d stay there Saturday night and feed her dogs and look out for the place. Maybe Brittany would like to come along so we could spend the last night together before I have to leave for college on Sunday." At first Gail thought that was too much of a reward after her misbehavior, but she agreed when I said I needed some time to make Brittany understand why I had to leave. On Saturday afternoon, Brittany and I drove out to the farmhouse. She had a great time playing with the dogs and exploring around the property. After dinner, it was still light outside so I had Brittany go for a walk with me. I talked about going off to college and said we could write letters and talk on the phone if she wanted. Brittany was really quiet and I didn’t know if she was accepting all this or not. When we got back to the house, Brittany said she had a surprise for me and she ran back to her room. When she came out she was wearing the Supergirl pajamas again. I didn’t realize she had packed them in her bag. she wanted to play the game one more time. I was a little reluctant after what had happened the last time. I told her it was getting late. But Brittany typically wouldn’t take no for an answer. she whipped out the red towel and clipped it around her shoulders. " I’m Supergirl!" she shouted, pointing at me, " and you’re going to be taught a lesson!" Brittany ran towards me and the chase was on. I used to be able to outrun her easily, but lately she was getting so fast that she could catch me quickly. I tried to outmaneuver her by darting through the house, changing directions quickly. She trapped me a couple of times and caught me, squeezing me in a crushing bear hug a few seconds before letting me go so she could chase me again. A few seconds in a bear hug by Brittany was all it took to force the air out of your lungs. I began to worry that she didn’t know her own strength, and she might end up hurting me again. I didn’t have Gail to rescue me this time. Brittany stopped chasing me and I realized that she was lying in wait for me somewhere. I rounded a corner and saw her leap off the back of the sofa and fly through the air at me. She tackled me by the shoulders and we fell to the floor. Brittany had me on my back and she put both of her hands around my neck. She was squeezing just hard enough to let me know she meant business, but I could see the muscles in her forearms bulge through the stretched material of her " suit." " Take it easy, Brittany," I said. " You remember what happened last time." Brittany squeezed tighter and I felt her thumbs press into my windpipe. It made me gag. She laughed, then jumped up and ran off pretending to fly away. I figured the game was over, but I was wrong. Brittany kept jumping up on furniture and leaping off to tackle me to the ground. Every time she would wrap her hands around my throat and say, " I’ve got you again!" before letting me go. I quickly got tired of this and wanted to stop. Brittany kept attacking me, jumping off the kitchen table or the side of the stairway as I passed. Finally, I just sat down on the sofa and refused to play anymore. This made Brittany angry. she took off her towel and wrapped it around my throat from behind, tugging on it until my tongue came out of my throat as I started to choke. I tried pulling it loose, but she twisted the ends and poured on the pressure like she was tightening a screw. Brittany was giggling like she thought it was funny. I thrashed around with all my might until I finally pulled the towel out of her hands and was able to stand up. I loosened the towel and tossed it aside as I gasped for air. Brittany stood there with her hands on her hips and said she was going to take me off to jail.

I knew Brittany thought she was just playing, but she was so strong, practically everything she did was dangerous. she could really hurt me without realizing it. I kept telling Brittany to stop the game, but she didn’t listen. I was the bad guy and she was going to punish me. The game ended only when she said so. The fear and panic that I felt was real, even though the situation was incredible. Here I was, a high school graduate and one-time athlete in my own right, being terrorized by a little eight year old kid who was trained in gymnastics and karate and had a body that was pure muscle … and she thought it was all a game! For some reason, I ran out the back door into the yard. The sun was just setting and the puffy clouds were all golden. Brittany caught me from behind and tackled me. She jumped on my butt and grabbed my wrists, pulling them up toward my shoulder blades. I couldn’t believe the strength in her arms as she muscled my wrists higher and higher. I groaned in pain and tried to resist, but she had me good. " Do ya give up?" Brittany asked, and I said yes immediately. " Do ya promise to be good while I take you off to jail?" she said, and I agreed. We stood up and she held my hands together tight behind my back using just one of her hands.

She marched me toward an old animal hutch that was built next to the shed. It was a former pigeon or rabbit house or something – made of a simple wooden frame covered in chicken wire, about six by eight feet. The door was covered in chicken wire also, and closed with a hasp, but there was no padlock. Instead there was a stick wedged into the loop of the staple. Brittany pulled out the stick, opened the door and shoved me inside. she closed the door and replaced the stick, then pointed at me and gave me a very stern look. " You stay there!" she yelled. " You’ve been a very bad boy!" I felt some relief that the game was over. Brittany went and got the dogs out of the shed and started playing with them in the yard. I wondered when I would be allowed out. It was starting to get dark. There was a hole cut in the door near the latch. I stuck my hand through and pulled out the stick. Brittany saw me and ran over, shouting, " No, you don’t!" I pushed open the door, but she pushed back. Incredibly, she was able to force me back inside, even though I leaned with all my weight against the door. Brittany’s toes dug into the turf and she drove with her legs and back until the door was shut again. Then she picked up the stick and replaced it in the latch. I saw her looking around the yard for something. She found a piece of metal rod near the shed. It looked like a two-foot piece of iron rebar about 3/4 of an inch thick. Brittany took out the stick and slipped the metal bar through the loop. Then she grabbed each end of the bar and raised her elbows high as she began to push down on the ends. I couldn’t believe what she was trying to do. She was actually trying to bend the bar to lock me in! I laughed when her feet left the ground without bending the rod. " Is Supergirl having a little trouble?" I snickered. Brittany dropped back down and scowled at me. she started scuffing her feet on the ground where the wooden frame met the soil. I looked down and saw that she had shoved her feet under the structure, locking them in place. Then she grabbed the ends of the bar again and began to push down with all her might. Brittany’s face became red and her arms were shaking as she pushed down on the two ends using maximum force. When the bar began to bend slightly my mind became a swirling mass of confusion. I kept thinking, this was impossible! Brittany’s grunts became louder as the bar continued to bend slowly. With each grunt the ends of the rod moved down another fraction of an inch. I reached through the hole and grabbed Brittany’s arm. She ignored me and kept forcing the bar to bend slowly. When I felt the rippling muscles in her forearm I freaked out. " Jesus, Brittany! … How can you do this?" I yelled. " You’re bending solid iron!" Brittany screwed up her face and poured on the pressure. Her fists moved down steadily as the rod yielded to the amazing power of Brittany’s little arms. It was taking all the effort she could muster, but Brittany wouldn’t give up. I had seen that fire in her eyes before. She wasn’t going to stop until it was bent all the way. When it was ninety degrees bent Brittany took a few heaving deep breaths, then shifted her elbows out wide and started to push the ends toward each other. Her chest muscles were making the material bulge around the big "S" as they flexed tighter and tighter. I was freaking out at the sight of such a little kid generating that much power. " No!! … NO!! …" I shouted. " You can’t be that strong!!" Brittany just gritted her teeth and continued to fight that metal bar with everything she had. I ran my hand up her arm and gripped her biceps, which felt like a steel cable. " Oh my God!" I cried. " How can your muscles be this hard!". Against Brittany’s combined muscle and determination, the bar had no choice – it had to bend! But Brittany was straining harder than she ever had in her life, and this feat of strength required muscle she didn’t even know she had. The little girl closed her eyes and took a few more gasping breaths. She was digging deep down for some inner strength, and with a furious growl her trembling arms forced the ends of the bar closer and closer. I moved my hand to Brittany’s chest and tried to press my fingers into the swelling pecs. Her flexing chest muscles were dense and hard as rock. I curled my hand into a fist and thumped it a couple of times against her solid flesh. My knuckles bounced off Brittany’s stone hard pecs with a satisfying thud. " Jesus, Brittany!" I cried. " You’re body is like a brick wall! It’s awesome!!" Brittany seemed to be inspired by my comments and increased her effort. She threw her head back and started to growl with her entire upper body flexed to the max. I saw the cords stand out in her neck as she strained. With a yell of triumph her trembling fists slowly moved the final few inches together until they touched. My heart was pounding and I could hardly force myself to breathe! " My God! Brittany, you did it! ". Brittany didn’t even seem to hear me. she wasn’t finished. She continued to twist that metal bar a bit more until the ends passed each other, forming a loop. Only then did she release the bar and step back, breathing heavily as she recovered and the red color began to drain from her face. " That oughtta hold ya!" Brittany said, proud of what she was able to do. I frantically reached through the hole and grabbed the ends of the rod. I tugged at it myself but couldn’t get the bar to budge an inch. I was totally freaked! " This is unreal!" I yelled. " Brittany … how could you be strong enough to do this? … No little kid your age is!! … You’re only eight years old, for crissakes!!!" Brittany looked at me seriously and made her voice as low as possible. " My name isn’t Brittany!" she shouted. " And I’m not a little kid! I’m Supergirl! Supergirl is the strongest girl in the universe! Supergirl can do anything!" Brittany took her super-heroine stance with arms akimbo and feet shoulder-width apart. Then she slowly took a deep breath that expanded her chest impressively. As I watched the S-logo in the shield grow larger and larger on her chest, the fabric began to pull apart down the middle like a run in a woman’s stocking. The flaw ran from the collar down the length of her breastbone. Brittany held her breath and kept her chest expanded at maximum size. " Wanna see me flex my muscles?" she asked. Even before I could answer, Brittany began to flex her back muscles. You could see the girl grow " wings" as her lats flared out. This was too much for the fabric, and it started to tear at the top near the collar, opening a large hole. Finally, Brittany flexed her chest muscles, and her pecs swelled out with all their new pumped-up power. The material made a loud ripping noise as it burst open down the front, spreading wide to reveal the two halves of her flexing pecs where they met in the middle. I brought my trembling fingers to my mouth and let out a whimpering cry of shock. If Brittany was upset at ripping her favorite pajamas, she didn’t show it. She seemed to know it was going to happen. I was staring in wonder and gasping as if I had just run a marathon. Brittany saw my wide-eyed confusion and smiled at me. " Supergirl’s muscles are bigger, harder, and stronger than anybody’s!" she said. " Watch this!" Then she raised her right arm and slowly began to flex it. That little mound of muscle began to swell up and tighten. When her arm was bent only ninety degrees, her young biceps was already peaking up higher than I’d ever seen. The stretching material just couldn’t contain it anymore – another run in the fabric started at the top of her biceps and made a ring halfway around the sleeve. As Brittany very slowly continued to move her fist toward her shoulder, you could see her amazing biceps contracting into a tighter and more fully rounded baseball of muscle. She stopped when her forearm reached the 45-degree angle and her muscle was at maximum flex. " Lookit how big my muscle is!" Brittany bragged. " Do ya think I can make it bigger?"Her fist was trembling as she grit her teeth and flexed her arm as tightly as possible. Brittany glared at her arm as if she we willing it to flex larger than it ever had before. I held my breath as I saw the look of extreme concentration on her face. Then, giving a little grunt, Brittany moved her fist up slightly and with a loud ripping noise her sleeve suddenly tore wide open. Brittany’s fully flexed biceps burst up through the shredded fabric like a little mountain of solid granite. It was the most incredible display of muscle I had ever seen! My knees were trembling and I was making little moans of disbelief. I thrust my hand through the hole in the door and reached for Brittany’s arm. She stepped closer and kept her right arm flexed for me. " Feel how strong I am!" she commanded. I squeezed the bulge and felt its unbelievable hardness. I moved my fingers back and forth across the peak of the little rock-like mound and felt the smooth warm skin stretched tight over the bulging girl-muscle. " Brittany, how did you get all this muscle? You can’t be stronger than me! It’s just not possible!" I couldn’t believe that a girl could have such strength!

It was frightening to think how strong Brittany could become as she grew up. Some wild things were running through my head … like maybe she was some genetically gifted mutant that would be studied by scientists. Suddenly, Brittany backed away and ran off. she grabbed both dogs by the collar and led them back to the shed for the night. The sky was darkening as twilight settled in. I watched Brittany walk into the house without looking back. I shouted at her for about ten minutes, but she didn’t reappear. I took one more shot at unbending the rod and quickly gave up on that idea. Kicking at the bottom of the chicken wire as hard as I could, it finally tore loose from the frame. A few more kicks and I was able to widen the hole until I could crawl under and escape. I switched on the light and saw Brittany had removed her torn shirt and was lying face up on the sofa, asleep. I decided not to disturb her, so I tucked a pillow under her head and reached for a blanket at the foot of the sofa. When I pulled it up she squirmed and stretched a little without waking up. I put my hand on her broad chest and felt the rise and fall of her slow breathing. Even asleep, you could see and feel the strength in her little body. Brittany had already become a powerful young athlete. I went off to bed thinking about the events of the last couple of days and tried to put them together in my head. The next morning I woke up to find Brittany sitting cross legged in front of the TV watching Sunday morning cartoons with a huge bowl of cereal in her lap. I briefly admired the way her broad shoulders and back looked without a shirt before I made myself breakfast. I decided not to question Brittany about what happened last night, and she didn’t seem to want to talk much either. We took the dogs on a morning walk and made sure they had enough food and water to last until their masters returned that evening. Brittany and I quickly packed up and drove back to town. I had only a few hours left before catching my plane. Before leaving, I got down on my knees and said goodbye. It was the first time in quite a while that I’d seen tears in Brittany’s eyes. she gave me a big hug that took my breath away – of course – then she ran off into her house. I said my good-byes to Gail and that was it.

I couldn’t have known it would be the last time I’d see Brittany. College was exciting and fun and scary and different and difficult and … exhausting. My parents completed their move and it was strange to spend Thanksgiving at a new house in a new city. I sent Brittany a postcard and never got anything back. I tried calling her house once and left a message on the machine that wasn’t answered. I decided Brittany had moved on and maybe Gail wanted it that way. I was glad to be rooming with Frank, a friend from high school. Her mom sent packages of baked goodies that kept us going through our freshman year. She packed them with lots of crumpled newspaper, and Frank and I would spread them out on the floor and read the news from our home town. One day I smoothed out a front page and saw a picture of a horrible traffic accident. Above the charred remains of a mangled car wrapped around a pole, the caption said, " GIRL SAVES MOM FROM FLAMING WRECK." Somehow I knew it was Gail and Brittany. I read under the picture how Gail crashed into a pole after she swerved to avoid a car that had run a red light. The front end caught on fire, but she was pinned under the steering wheel. Brittany managed to free her mother, then collapsed in the road and was rushed to the hospital as soon as the paramedics arrived. Her condition was unknown. " Full story on page 3," it said, but I searched frantically for page 3 without success. I checked the date on the paper. It was several days old. I ran to the phone and dialed Gail’s number. A recorded message said my call could not be completed as dialed. I decided to call the newspaper and talk to the reporter. She assured me that Gail was all right and Brittany was recovering in the hospital. The reporter happened to be driving nearby and witnessed what happened right after the accident. " When I got out of my car I saw little Brittany pulling frantically on the door handle without success, then she managed to force her fingers into the crack at the edge of the crumpled door and tugged with all of her might. The crowd was yelling at her to get away from the car because of the fire, but she didn’t listen. The door wrenched open a bit with a loud metallic groan, then it continued to move open inch by inch with more loud creaks and groans as that little kid kept tugging repeatedly with everything she had. We were all amazed at how strong she was, but no one was brave enough to go help her. Once the door was open wide enough, Brittany grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and pushed upward, bending the steel column and forcing it away from her mother’s body. Then she grabbed her under the arms and pulled her to safety just as the flames engulfed the car. " You know, it was a funny thing … I was there later when the tow truck drivers tried to force the door closed and they couldn’t do it. Two huge, muscular men, and they couldn’t get the door to budge. I took a closer look and saw a wave of little dents where Brittany’s fingers had grabbed the edge of the door. When I pointed them out and told the men about Brittany wrenching the door open they didn’t believe me. They also didn’t believe that Brittany had pushed up the steering wheel. It wasn’t one of those wheels that tilt, and they said no girl or man could force it up that way. But I could swear it happened just like I said. And you know what else? The paramedics tore open the girl’s shirt and she was wearing Supergirl underwear!" " It wasn’t underwear," I said. " Those were pajamas." Her mom must have sewn them up for her. " Whatever …" she continued. " I thought it was cute the little kid was dressed like a super-hero."

I’ve been trying to find out what happened to Brittany and Gail ever since. I made the long drive that weekend and tried to visit Brittany in the hospital, but she had checked out the day before. The nurse said the doctors were all amazed at how quickly Brittany had healed from her internal injuries. I went out to her house and peered in the window when no one answered the door. All the furniture was gone. It was as if they had just disappeared. I’ve had a few dreams lately where I get into trouble and Brittany comes flying down out of the sky to rescue me. She tells me everything’s all right, then she flies off in her Supergirl pajamas, with the red towel flapping in the wind. I sometimes get a funny feeling when I see a flash of blue up among the clouds – was it a bird … or a plane … or something else? I used to tell Brittany she was the kind of kid who could grow up to become anything she wanted. But it really isn’t possible to will yourself to become a super-heroine … is it?

THE END

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