Part Two [Warning: DARK]:
“Red and blue again, Mrs Harper? I’m starting to notice a pattern” I say, striding into my office at the Daily Planet.
Before the Great Shift hit, I had been Mrs Harper, the personal assistant to the mild-mannered journalist Clark Kent of the Daily Planet. Back then, his tendency for abruptly vanishing during work hours had struck me as odd but, being the timid little woman I’d been, I’d never spoken about it.
After the Shift, I found myself in Clark’s body and swiftly discovered that he concealed two things. Firstly, his cock was out of this world. And secondly, so was the rest of him. He was Superman. Or, more accurately, I was. Out of all the people in the world, I had been the lucky individual to land inside the Man Of Steel.
“Dress for the job you want, am I right?” I chuckle.
The billowing sleeves of her blouse are almost capelike. The rest of the color coordination is reminiscent of a certain Big Blue Boy Scout. The scarlet skirt she’s plucked from the depth of my wardrobe predates two children, and her mature rear strains delightfully against the too-small garment. “A little vulgar for a grandmother, don’t you think? So tight I barely need my x-ray vision,” I growl, my eyes aglow while I study the body beneath.
As a woman, I’d kept myself under calorie control. Clark, with her once-perfect metabolism, had barely heard of the word ‘diet’ and her new body was turning delightfully plump as a result. In a few months, if she continues eating this way, she’ll become an obese, bloated mess, but for now, she is perfect - my secretary’s juicy peach is the envy of the office, despite her years. Even Louis commented on it. ‘Little Clark’ twitches and throbs at the sight, even if those curves once were mine. Narcissistic, perhaps, but my ego has certainly grown to fill its superpowered vessel during the months I've owned it.
“You shouldn’t use my powers like this,” she stammers, her mousey voice not louder than a whisper as she raises her arms to shield her breasts and pussy from my penetrating gaze.
"Who is going to stop me? You?"
I pin her soft body between the desk and my iron-hard abs, Little Clark pressing against its ex-owner. “Isn’t it time you moved on? You were outside our house last night. Don’t pretend you weren’t - I watched you through the wall while I fucked my wife.” She whimpers as I caress her face. She is beautiful, though the crow’s feet around the eyes… the wrinkles tightening the mouth… Her age is starting to show through the thick makeup.
“Enjoy the life you have left. And let me live mine.” The hardest part about being Clark has always been moderating his great strength, and she mewls softly as my fingers sink into her soft buttocks. “Take my advice - retire," I whisper soothingly. "A woman your age should be thinking of a comfortable pension, taking a cruise in the Caribbean with her husband, and doting on her grandchildren. Not lusting after a man’s wife half her age. Let me take care of being you.”
“Y-you’ll never be the hero I was,” she stammers, a glimmer of rebellion.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I smile. “Remember, I’m immortal. I have all eternity to practice being you. Besides, how long did you get? Thirty years? After a millennia, when you've long been nothing but dust and bones, your contribution to the life of Superman, to my life, will amount to nothing more than a rounding error.”
She trembles in fear, knowing one move on my part - accidental or otherwise - would tear her in two like tissue paper. Her balled fists press against my unyielding chest but she lets me have my fun like a good PA. With a flicker of my eyes, twin laser beams carve her blouse and bra into fluttering ribbons, exposing her exquisite, slightly sagging yet swollen breasts - a gift from my husband for my 50th birthday. I had never appreciated them until now. They feel wonderful in my hands. Staring through her flesh, I admire the inner packets of silicone filling her, enhancing her physique, turning it into an object of pleasure for men.
“Admit it, if you were truly meant to be Superman, you would have stopped the Great Shift. Hah. Some hero you were…”