Alpha Angel vs the Matador
in... The Running of the Superheroines!
Author's Note: this is a revision of an older story originally published elsewhere. Characters have been changed and events edited in accordance with site policy. No characters depicted in this work are under the age of 18.
When Alpha Angel arrived in the arena she did not realize that she was the grand finale.
As she slunk down the dark underground passage, Angel was dressed in her traditional patriotic costume. Above, her curvaceous torso slunk close to the concrete wall, clad in a blue star-spangled jacket. Below, her long athletic legs crunched in the soft gravel floor, clad in long blue thighboots, also with a pattern of white stars running up the front. Between them, her stunning body was clothed in what amounted to a skimpy, vertically red-and-white striped bikini. Upon her face, her sculpted glared out from behind her blue star-spangled mask.
Stepping out of the long dark secret passage, she slowly scanned her eyes across the empty sandy field of the underground arena... and smirked. The only man in sight was her target, and he had his back to her. The Matador stood at the far end of the dark bullring, black cape draped over his back, slowly sharpening his sword. Smiling smugly, Alpha Angel slowly and quietly sauntered forward, her ample curves jiggling silently in her bikini costume as her boots crunched ever so softly in the gravel.
But as she advanced, her eyes fixed on her would-be opponent, the stalwart superheroine unfortunately missed several ominous warnings scattered all around her. A torn scrap of her Katy Colt's pastel Texas Flag bikini bottom crunched unseen into the gravel under her boot. Several streaks of cum splattered across the gravel were stepped over or through, leaving the oblivious heroine's heels dripping and tarnished. Even the Jewel of Virtue, its soft red glow shining clearly from where it lay half-buried in sand, scraps of pure-white bustier peeking through to either side, remained unseen. Arriving in the very center of the ring, Alpha Angel put her hands upon her hips, planted her boots wide apart, and grinned.
"The game's up, Matador!" she announced, loudly. Her gorgeous face glared at his back sternly, from amidst her swirling bright pink hair, and beneath her shining golden headband. "There'll be no performance for your wicked sport tonight!"
"That is where you are wrong, Senorita," the Matador said, in a thick Latin accent, without turning. "The sport is just about to begin... now that the biggest bull - or should I say cow - has arrived!"
Slamming his sword into its sheath he whirled to face her, his cape billowing dramatically.
Alpha Angel gasped. Despite having had many tall tales about him whispered into her ear by various Latin-quarter prostitutes she'd arrested in the last few weeks, this was her first time actually laying eyes upon this particular villain. He looked the part. He was tall and lean, dressed in a traditional-looking red and black suit and wearing a red rose in his hair. His cape billowed, layers of red silk under its black outer sheath. The only hints that he was a super-villain were the Zorro-like domino mask on his face... and the tremendous bulge that extended down one leg of his tight pants.
Licking her lips, Alpha Angel found herself briefly distracted by the latter, despite herself. 'It's fake...' she told herself desperately, 'it has to be...' and returned her focus to her task.
Then the Matador gave a dramatic, flourishing signal. The house lights came up... and Alpha Angel gave a second, louder gasp. For instead of being empty as her informants had promised, the rising lights revealed the shadowy stands all around her to be packed full. Of criminals, by definition, as this was an extremely illegal performance. Moments later a thick iron grate slammed down over the entrance to the 'secret' passage behind her, sealing her in.
Alpha Angel whirled to gape back at the sealed exit behind her, then spun back to snarl at her foe. "What... what is the meaning of this?!" she demanded of him
"Miss Angel," the Matador said. Not even looking at her, he held out his fingers and examined his black-painted nails. "I want you to know something. I am a normal man. I have neither mutant strength nor magical power. I am no match for a true superheroine like you. I want you to know this..." he said, and reaching up, drew the flower from his hair and extended it towards her as if making a romantic gesture, "so that it will be all the more humiliating when I tame you."
Angel snorted. "Fat chance!" she said.
"Bold words," the Matador instantly replied, "for an American woman with such a gigantic, blubbery ass."
Angel's jaw dropped. Though 'blubbery' was not the word anyone would use for the two taut yet enormous spheres extending out from beneath the back of her star-spangled jacket, his words still hit a nerve. Her exceptionally voluptuous ass wiggled briefly back and forth as if struck, as if the two giant buns were fighting to escape her red-and-white-striped bikini bottom. "Oooh... " Alpha Angel hissed, brows lowering and hands forming into fists. "Oh, I am going to have fun with you!"
And with that she charged.
The Matador remained stock still as the proud American champion pounded towards him, gravel rising in gouts behind her each thundering boot-step.
"Note," he purred softly, "that I said nothing... about chloroform." Extending the flower toward the charging superheroine, as if offering it to a lover, when she was almost upon him he gave it a tiny squeeze. A cloud of gas immediately burst from the fake flower and into her face.
"Oh!" Angel gasped. She was moving too fast, and breathing too hard, to avoid it. Almost instantly, she had breathed a full lungful of the insidious vapor down into her curvy, well-endowed torso.
Her charge promptly stumbled and ceased, and the mighty heroine came to a wavering halt just a few feet in front of him. Gasping, Alpha Angel wobbled slowly back and forth, barely staying on her feet. She had managed to avoid taking in enough to knock her out, but her head, indeed the entire world, had suddenly started to spin.
Moving without the slightest haste, the Matador drew his sword and stood facing the dazed, wobbling superheroine. "Let us get this show started properly!" he said. Then, darting past her, he sent his sword arcing up in front of her chest and sliced straight through her bra. The crowd roared as the severed vertically-striped cups flew apart - and two titanic bare breasts spilled forth to bounce and jiggle naked before them.
"Oh, Goddess!" Alpha Angel gasped. Shaking out of her daze she looked down and gaped in shock to see her twin enormous jugs, wobbling back and forth in the cold air and harsh light that bathed down upon her. Then she whirled round, and found the Matador had already escaped to the far side of the arena. He stood, again ramrod straight, his cape held before him, waiting for her.
Glaring at him, she growled. Her eyes narrowed.
"I know your game," she said to him.
Instead of charging she put her hands upon her hips, trying to ignore the whistles of the crowd at the ponderous sway of her enormous unsupported breasts.
"You're playing me like a bull," Alpha Angel asserted. She raised an eyebrow. "Distract me, enrage me, and then wear me down with cuts.... that's the plan isn't it?" Slowly, she smiled, her face growing smug. "It's a good strategy," she admitted. "But what works on an animal? Won't work on a superheroine."
"Are you sure?" the Matador said. "Because it worked on your friend fine."
Reaching up, he tore what proved to a be thin layer of silk off the exposed lining of his cape to reveal, beneath it, a layer printed with a graphic, full color photo of himself fucking the brains out of Rebel Belle. The gorgeous redhead was on her hands and knees facing into the camera. Her trademark Confederate Flag panties were tugged halfway down her mighty thighs, binding them together. Her glowing jewel, which granted her her powers, along with scraps of the pure white bustier upon which it normally lay nestled, now lay in the dirt, just beneath her enormous hanging breasts. The Matador was perched behind her - with both hands down to get eager handfuls of said giant swaying tits. But his pelvis had just slammed up into her buns with what the blurring made clear was a devastating stroke. The once-proud Southern heroine's masked face was caught in the shooting backwards, her hair flying and her eyes rolling up, at how forcefully he had just slammed up into her.
Alpha Angel stared at the image in shock. Her hands trembled upon her hips. "That... that's a fake!" she gasped. "It... it has to be!"
"Is this?" Matador asked, tearing off another layer to reveal a shot of the same position, with Rebel Belle rearing up in squealing ecstasy as he slammed his hips straight up against her bountiful round ass. "Or this?" He tore out another sheet, revealing a new shot of he and the once-noble Daughter of Dixie lying belly-to-belly in the dirt... her pale head, trapped in his hand, nevertheless caught in the act of giving the foul swarthy criminal what looked for all the world a deep and passionate kiss.
