Naked Girl - Chapter 3: First Super Caper
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Even a Naked super girl has to go to school if she wants to keep her secret identity. Marya certainly wasn't about to give up the rest of her life just because she had powers. 'I may be a mutant, but I'm also a woman with a chance at one of the best schools in the country.'
The first few days were fairly normal. It was like going to high school, only bigger. Walking into a room with so many students you had to watch the professor on a TV screen would take getting used to. Not all her classes were like that, but certainly the general courses ran big and impersonal. With no major yet, her schedule was a bit eclectic: English 1A, Introduction to Anthropology, Trigonometry, and Art: Figure Drawing.
Art class looked promising, a lot of nude models; which would be fun. She thought of signing up to pose. If she had to be nude anytime she went super, she might as well get used to it; learn to like it. Second thoughts crept in on the third class, when the model was a beautiful black girl who kept spreading her snatch at the Asian guy next to Marya. Fortunately it was a day for quick sketches, two minute contour line drawings; no looking at the paper till you where done. Of course that meant she got more than an eyeful of the girl's click just hang'n there wait'n for a kiss. A sight she found disturbing yet beautiful. She wondered why it made her wet, never having been one to look at girls before.
The rest of her schedule was a mad dash of department attempts to get students to wash out. Ranging from a hundred to several hundred students per class, with graduate students doing the real teaching in afternoon seminars. Marya quickly decided most of these professors couldn't teach to save their lives; they were just here to get research grants. She wondered if Berkeley had been the right choice, still it would be a good resume item if she made it through. 'Am I eva gonna need it though? What good's a degree for a job bustin up villains and mad scientists?' Still, she would do her brother proud.
The students were interesting. So out of her world -so many rich kids, foreign kids, and hippies looking to catch a dream over 30 years dead. Filtered through her jaded eyes they were paragons of The Man, suburban kids born to a luxury she never knew.
She doubted any of them had to wear second hand clothes not by choice of fashion, but from poverty. She doubted any of them had ever been raped in the back of a high school bathroom. She doubted any had seen their boyfriend's gunned down in a drive by. She doubted any had ever seen a super turn a blind to her cries for help cause she just didn't matter to his image.
They were the rich kids from over the hill, the people she'd grown up to hate. Now she was among them, cast out of her element into a world she'd only dreamed of joining. Up close, they didn't look so bad -when they didn't know what she was, didn't know a hoodrat when they saw one- they seemed like normal people. She thought she knew better, but found herself wondering more and more every day.
'If Daryl hadn't died, would I be one of them? Are they really so different?' She knew better than to think it was about color, after all, she wasn't even black. It was about class. It's easy to learn hate -part of human nature- but it's hard to give it up. Still, if she was going to make it here, she'd have to learn to accept these people -figure out who they were.
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Those early days went by fast. Every night after school Marya would fly up into the sky looking for trouble. That's what heroes did wasn't it? It was getting rather expensive though -all the burned away clothes. She started dressing minimal, started looking for places to stash outfits. The campus rooftops would soon become a pervert's wet dream; a scattered array of women's clothing. That might get her dressed after the fact, but it still didn't solve the initial problem.
Day three she decided to try something new. Stepping out of art class she went for a secluded set of trees and quickly stripped. Marya put everything in her pack and thought of being Super. The change moved through her, a little less blurry than on the first day. She felt the sudden onslaught to her senses, the growth of dampness between her thighs and the increase of weight on her chest. As for her bag, she tried to put it on and made to jump into the sky; but as soon as her arms were through, it was ashes at her feet; her books and purse spilled out onto the dirt. "Well shit! What am I supposed to do now?"
She bent over to pick up her things, unaware of a group of guys coming down the path with their lunches in hand.
"Hey, check that cunt out!" the voice of a white male called out from behind her.
His black companion filled in "Damn! That's some fine yak butter honey! Check that chassie."
Which led to a chorus of voices joining in "Shiiee..."
"Turn around bitch and give us the rest o' the Product."
"Man she crackin'"
"I'll take a piece o' that."
Marya froze. 'Well, I'm going to have to deal with this sooner or later.' Without looking back she straightened her legs and spread apart a little further, improving the view dramatically as she picked up her books. The boys where treated with the sight of her spread pussy, wetness dripping down her thighs and a click visible even from the 20 feet away where they stood, transfixed. Between the lovely view her breasts hung down and waved to and fro and she worked to gather her supplies, her face still hidden by her activity.
"Damn..." the chorus offered. It was about all their brains could still handle.
Marya rose slowly, turned around even slower. She was turned on like crazy by the act. 'Now I feel like a Twirk. I'm sooo fuck'n ready.' She looked over her audience, licking her lips. 'I better lay some rules down fast, or I'll end up some cheap ass benda, hitting it wit every guy I meet for the rest of my days.'
"You want it boyz?" Marya said as she ran a hand through her slit. "Well come on over and get it..."
As group, they advanced; some of them looking around to see if anyone was watching. There were six of them in all, a mix of black and white, but all dressed like wannabe gangstas.
"If you can stand the heat." Marya finished, as she burst into flames, a devilish look in her eyes.
"Shit!"
"What the fuck?!"
"Da bitch's a super!"
"No... fuck..."
"I think I'm in love..."
"Fuck! Ball out man!"
They scattered and ran. Marya broke out into uncontrolled laughter, still burning like a bright inferno, still clutching her books to her breasts. She was too distracted to notice they weren't burning, and too distracted to see her sister and Marissa watching from a side path.
Tisha had come late, just in time to see Marya straighten her legs when bent over, but not soon enough to see who this girl really was. "Marissa! It's her. Phat! She got game. Seein' that, I could almost go for beatin' it with a bitch."
Marissa edged a step away from Tisha at those words. Then seeing Marya run her hand through her slit, took three steps into Tisha, till their hips touched and the two shuddered unconsciously.
They stood in awed silence as the boys ran off.
For her part, Marya was charged with sexual energy, feeling like she could fuck an army and keep going. "Oh that was tight! But god I feel ready..." She ran her hand through her snatch again. "Oooh... This is gonna to drive me wild... I need a fuck."
Hearing this, Tisha got the nerve to move forward. "Hey girl..."
Marya turned, that voice was too familiar. 'Shit! Not Tisha, not now...'
Marya looked over the girls she knew all too well. Her sister and her high school peer. They were odd friends, having shared the same man. 'Now I really gotta ball out.'
Tisha saw her tense down, ready to jump. "Hey don't go..." But it was too late; Marya was in the clouds.
"Damn..." Marissa offered.
"No shit. Wait'll Marya hears this. Her Art class is just down here."
Marissa looked at her watch. "She aught'ta be out by now. We could get some pizza."
The two friends continued on, looking for Marya; never making the connection.
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Marya was frustrated. This nude thing was bad enough, always loosing her clothes. But the turn on made it a living nightmare. She'd gone solo so many times in the past few days she was starting to worry her muscles would get uneven -worried she'd end up with the right hand of a body builder.
And she still hadn't found anything to bust up. 'Wasn't it supposed to be easier to find crime?'
It took a week to find it: a week of frustration, burned up clothes, and sneaking into the house naked. A week of patrolling the skies and avoiding being sighted as best she could. Not that rumors hadn't begun to spread already.
Saturday evening found a very naked Marya descending from the sky to a liquor store in Richmond, looking to buy a soda. 'Hope they don't have a no shirt, no service policy; cause I'm thirsty.' She'd taken to braiding a few bills into her hair -just in case- for some reason jewelry didn't burn up with her clothes. Anything that might make her look sexier, as long as it wasn't clothing or lingerie; seemed to be able to survive the transformation. 'Cosmic pervert indeed'. It was pure luck, her choice of stop-n-rob...
As she walked the aisles, aware of the shocked lusting stare of the Pakistani clerk, two guys with Asian eyes dressed as gangsta's came in, ski masks already in place. One of the men pulled a pistol as he made his way in, aiming at the man behind the counter.
