Prose That Blows

Wicked Game

WICKED GAME

Aether Price flew through the afternoon sky, her blue eyes tracing a route along the rooftops toward the building targeted in her police scanner’s latest dispatch. Already she could see the halo of emergency vehicles surrounding it, and with a swish of her arms, another gust of air filled her gold cape and propelled her swiftly onward.

She landed beside a flashing squad car, her blonde bobcut swishing in the breeze. The police captain ran over to greet her.

“Airstrike, thank goodness you’re here! There are people being held hostage inside the bank; we’ve lost contact with the officers inside—“

“Leave it to me, captain,” said Aether, hands placed authoritatively on her hips. “You and your men set up a secure perimeter for me.”

With that, she strode up the stone steps and into the vaulted lobby of the bank.

Inside the echoey chamber it was suspiciously quiet. In one corner lay a pile of huge skin-toned spheres, shreds of police uniforms still clinging to their surfaces. Every once in a while, one would emit an uncomfortable gurgle, quivering turgidly.

Airstrike knew what was waiting ahead.

Around a bend lay the twisted remains of the bank vault door, wrenched from its sockets. Beside it cowered a group of hostages, headed by a sobbing bank teller. Their clothes were soaking wet. Aether had taken a step toward them when the click of stiletto heels approached from within the vault. A tall, slender seductress strode out, body glistening in a black catsuit, a peaked cap tilted jauntily atop her raven-haired head. She stopped when she spotted Aether.

“Tethys,” growled the heroine, fists clenched.

“Airstrike,” purred the villainess, blue lips curling into a smile. She dropped the moneybags she had been carrying and rested one dainty hand in the curve of her corseted waist. “How nice of you to join us.”

“Are you gonna come quietly or will I have to beat some sense into you?”

“Tsk tsk, Airstrike. You really need to be taught some manners.” In a flash, a long tendril of water materialized in Tethys’s grip. “Why don’t we start now?”

Airstrike thrust a blast of air at her. Tethys stepped out of the way, letting the bank teller take the brunt of it. Fabric stretched and tore as the young woman’s whimpering form expanded like an airbag, billowing into a plump sphere in seconds.

The villainess lashed out with her water whip, striking Aether in the shoulder. The heroine’s already ample bosom swelled within her lavender leotard, jiggling as she moved. Airstrike launched another gust, missing Tethys but disintegrating her whip. Within moments, however, a new one had formed in its place.

Tethys gave a laugh and struck her again. Aether felt her tiny waist surge outward, the sloshing weight nearly throwing her off balance. She looked inhumanly pregnant. Another blow caught her, and Airstrike’s hips billowed comically, her butt swelling to match her engorged front.

Tethys laughed cruelly. “Really letting yourself go, aren’t you, Airstrike?”

The quip was all she needed. With a snarl, Aether thrust a powerful gust at her nemesis, catching her off guard. Tethys dodged, but couldn’t escape all of it. The villainess’s form plumped instantly. Her blue corset stretched slightly, but most of the air went elsewhere. With a squeak, her legs thickened, hips widening obscenely, pneumatic thighs pressing against one another tightly. The heat reddening her cheeks suggested something else had tightened, too. Tethys’s shoulders and arms bulged with air, and her breasts shot upward and outward, the corset pushing them up into her face.

She stood there for a moment, shocked. Airstrike smirked at the image; the latex sheen of the catsuit made the villainess’s bloated form look even more balloon-like. But even like this, she was still dangerous. Airstrike collected air for another gust.

Tethys was ready for her. As the distended heroine launched her attack, her opponent raised a liquid barrier to block it. Three further gusts failed to penetrate the wall of water, although one rebounded and struck another hostage. But the villainess was no longer playing games. As Airstrike paused to rethink her strategy, the barrier suddenly rushed toward her. Encumbered as she was by her swollen body, Aether could do nothing to escape it.

The wall hit her like a ton of bricks. The heroine slid back a few inches, but kept her footing, even as she felt her leotard begin to stretch to contain her burgeoning form. Aether’s belly doubled in girth, her torso rounding into a sphere. Her melon-sized breasts swelled into pumpkins, and her legs bloomed into bulging cones. Her arms fared only slightly better.

Another hit like that would cost Airstrike her mobility, and with it her ability to fight back.

Tethys had taken advantage of her opponent’s temporary disability to attempt an escape, moving as fast as her swollen legs would carry her toward the moneybags she had discarded at the start of the fight. Aether fired a bolt of air at the villainess’s receding backside, eliciting a squeal when the shot hit home. Slowed but not subdued, Tethys retrieved her prize from the bank’s marble floor, and turned to face the heroine.

“This was fun, but I’m afraid it’s time for me to go,” she purred. With that, she raised her arms high and tore open the building’s plumbing, summoning a massive torrent of water. Aether’s heart plummeted as she watched thick tendrils lift the massive vault door off the ground and hold it over the cowering hostages. Tethys gave a final cackle, then rode the crest of the wave out of the bank, letting the tentacles of water supporting the vault door wither to nothing.

Airstrike moved as fast as the wind could carry her, launching herself at the falling mass of steel like a cannonball. The hostages shrieked as gravity drew their doom closer with each passing instant. There was an almighty CLANG of metal on marble, then silence. One by one, the hostages looked up to find their savior lying amongst a pile of rubble just feet away, dazed and bloated.

Airstrike had once again saved the day.

***

Aether Price squeezed herself through the door of her apartment, her great bulk wobbling with every thunderous step. With a groan, she waddled over to the coat-rack and removed her cape.

Behind her came the click of stiletto heels.

“Hey, honey?” purred Thalassa Peterson, waddling in from the bedroom in an absurdly under-sized robe, wiping off her blue lipstick with a tissue. “Could you put these away for me?” She reached down with difficulty and removed her shoes. Without the corset, her body was slightly more flexible, although her thighs still squeaked when she walked. Aether took the heels wordlessly and put them in the closet. Then she turned around and gave her nemesis a kiss.

“Quite a battle we had today,” said Thalassa, running her hands along Aether’s massive curves. “You haven’t gotten this big in a long time.”

“Mmmm,” came the cooed reply. “I certainly hope you plan on deflating me.”

“Oh, there’ll be plenty of time for that later. Besides,” she drew away, slinking as seductively as she could back toward the bedroom, “you still have to catch the bad guy.”

Aether grinned, eyes twinkling as she pulled off her leotard and followed Thalassa into the bedroom.

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