Introduction: This is a fictional story about Crystal Lass, a young super-heroine. Not long ago, there were a number of super- heroines in the US. They were scattered throughout different metropolitan areas to help and assist the local police departments maintain peace and civil order.
To become a super-heroine, a young lady had to be dedicated, young, gorgeous, tall (at least 5' 10"), strong, and smart. Crystal met the gorgeous requirement with her high cheekbones, wide set blue eyes, and full lips. Graduates were always an expert in martial arts. A typical super-heroine graduate was 6' tall, weighed about 140 pounds, with a gorgeous face, great ass, tits, legs, and arms. They were always a complete package.
Potential super-heroines had to succeed in a very difficult training period. Think of it this way: the training of a super-heroine is similar to the rigorous Navy Seals and Army Rangers training. Not every potential super-heroine passed the rigorous training regimen and harassment thrown at them. Those who succeeded received their own "Magic Belt" at graduation. The Magic Belt enabled them to possess limited super powers and recover quickly from wounds and bruises.
Every super-heroine graduate was given the opportunity to design her own unique crime-fighting outfit. The super-heroines were also smart enough to realize that a sexy, scant, revealing outfit often distracted the bad guy; so, they tended to wear sexy and revealing clothes while working.
Crystal Lass was no different. Crystal had platinum blonde hair, was 5'11" tall (disappointed that she was not 6' tall), and weighed 138 pounds (with almost no fat). Any "fat" on Crystal was in her breasts; not a bad place to have a little more "bulk".
Crystal, after much thinking, decided that her crime-fighting outfit would be tight-fitting red shorts, a silver top that hugged and barely covered her large breasts, and red high-heeled boots. The high-heeled boots would make up for what she thought was her minor deficiency: not being tall enough. Crystal often mused that her boots were "fuck me" boots.
By age 21, Crystal Lass was a gorgeous super-heroine who wore a tight sexy outfit, a magic belt, and more important, was dedicated to fighting crime.
The adventure begins: I grew up in a large metropolitan area with affluent downtown and manufacturing sectors. Our apartment building was located next to a manufacturing sector. It looked out over a community park with a fenced basketball court. On the other side of the park were factories and manufacturing facilities.
Also living in this complex were three longtime buddies: Bernie (Bern), Robert (Bob), and Albert (Al). We were all 21 years old, tall, big, and strong. We were intelligent, attended college, and in the sexual prime of our lives. We worked in summer jobs; something to do before starting a career. As young guys do, we often bragged to each other. More importantly, we liked each other.
A weekend Saturday morning adventure for us was to challenge some of the local black guys to a game at the basketball court. Eight to ten black guys would arrive in two old beat up "custom" vans at 9 am every Saturday morning. The black guys were big, strong, talented ex-college players that were not quite good enough to make the pros. The games were contested; beating the other guys made your day. The four of us would challenge four of them to a game. Four big, strong white kids versus four big, strong black kids. We could match them physically, and the games were always contested and physical. We often lost the games but vowed to beat them next week.
Early one evening the four of us were walking by one of the manufacturing plants that appeared to have been closed. I noticed a side door that was slightly open. Being curious, we entered and explored. We discovered the building was being maintained; all the electrical, plumbing, cooling, and heating functions were operational. It even included two operating elevators. The lights in the rooms were on timers and kept dimly lit at night. We surmised the government knew they might be required to reopen the manufacturing facility with short notice and kept the building functional.
Since it was empty and not being used, we decided to make a room on the eighth floor our new "Headquarters". We met there almost every evening after dinner. Besides drinking beer and smoking joints, we reviewed our daily activities, bragging to each other how great we were. The manufacturing complex, although not being used, was valuable property. The police patrolled the manufacturing section of town. Crystal Lass would also patrol the area, and we could often see her when she was walking the beat. She was beautiful and always somewhere in our individual "fantasies".
One evening as we watched her patrol the area, Bern wistfully asked:
"How can we get Crystal Lass in here; and how can the four of us take full advantage of that gorgeous creature. Fuck her brains out. Make her our Fuck Doll?"
We laughed nervously as our comments bordered on fantasy, but we soon began to think more seriously. How could we overcome her super-heroine abilities? Crystal wasn't invincible. How could we get past her strong defenses? After much discussion, we came up with a plan. Crystal would not be able to defend against a bullet fired from two or three feet. If we could just get very close to her and nullify her advantage, we could overpower her and make her our Fuck Doll.
Our plan: all four of us would carry a pistol. We would rig two windows with red flashing lights. Crystal would see the lights and, if she investigated, we would trap her. After much discussion, we came up with a finished plan. Bern would bring the important medical supplies: Ecstasy and hyaluronic acid fillers. Al and Bob would bring the ropes, neck collar, handcuffs, and bondage restraints to hogtie Crystal Lass. If successful, we would turn Crystal into a sucking, fucked Fuck Doll.
On Friday night, the start of a weekend, our Crystal Lass Fuck Doll adventure would begin. During the next few days, we were busy completing our individual requirements. As the Friday night encounter became closer, we were showing signs of apprehension and worry. What if our plan failed? We vowed to not let that happen.
On that Friday night, we arrived after dinner with our supplies. We retrieved the flashing red lights and two packing boxes from storage. As it was getting dark, the police cruiser completed its nightly surveillance sweep of the area. As the cruiser departed, I said:
