DPS - The Social Responsibility of a Supergirl, or, Debate Club Starts Early

I've been sitting on this chapter for a while. Truth is, I'm a little burned out on DPS... if you have any suggestions for future chapters, please feel free to pitch in.

Three sexy images are in your Story Lovers folder!

The Social Responsibility of a Supergirl, or, Debate Club Starts Early

“How strong are you!?” one of the girls shrieked out, alternating between looking at Dana in fear and looking at The Bro, face bloodied and clearly in pain, sitting in a student desk.

“Ah, a good question!” Dana smiled genuinely. “I have to say, I don’t know for sure,” she tapped her sexy chin with a single finger. “And even if I did know, it would be hard to put into words. A demonstration would be far more effective, don’t you think? That’s the problem with our teachers: all they do is tell us what to do, and not why, or how, or show. Well, I’m going to be a new kind of teacher.” Dana’s smile was predatory and wicked. “Oh Mr. Bro, why don’t you pick a student to come up and arm wrestle with me?”

The Bro shifted from moaning and wincing in pain to a different sort of terror. A psychological one. He watched Dana hover there menacingly, checking her perfectly polished nails as she extended and flexed her long, slim fingers, wondering just how much force she could exert with just a squeeze. He wondered

“Come now, Mister Bro, what’s the matter?” Dana’s voice dripped with honey, not at all masking the underlying sinister tone. “If you don’t pick someone, I’ll just have to fling everyone across the room. Use them all as my little pets. Is that what you want, hmm? For me to break every... single... student of yours?” Dana rested her chin in the palm of her hand and gave The Bro a sweet smile. Her teeth were pearly white, her lips thick and crimson red.

The Bro’s heart began to pound even faster as it climbed upward toward his throat. He tore his eyes away from the vision of that teenage goddess as he looked at his class in abject terror. Which student was he supposed to subject to her power?

“Or if you like...” Dana drummed her feminine chin with her fingers, “I won’t even touch them if you don’t choose.”

The Bro sighed a breath of relief, though he knew it was probably misplaced.

“We can just play from here!” Dana giggled, her green eyes illuminated with mischief.

She “sat” up straight in midair, extending her long, beautifully muscular arm. Extending her sensual limb, Dana opened her hand, palm pointing toward the sky, long fingers splayed out. Then, with a little smirk and playful twirl, one of the students, Dirk Bagnowski, squealed as his body began to float out of his chair.

“Whoa! Shit! What!?” Bag screamed as his body betrayed him while simultaneously ignoring the force of gravity. He tried to grip his desk as his feet raised toward the ceiling, as if caught in an alien abduction tractor beam.

“Douchebag! Er, I mean... Dirk!” The Bro corrected himself, reflexively using the nickname that all of their fellow students called him. The students gasped, but Dana’s super hearing had long since eavesdropped on that little insignificant detail.

“That’s right, Mister Bro! Even you think he’s a Douchebag, don’t you? So you don’t mind the student I chose to demonstrate my powers then?” Dana winked a long lashed illuminated green eye at the class.

“W-wait! W-with great power,” Bag managed to squeak out as the grip of his fingers was slipping, his body rising toward the ceiling.

“Oh god, don’t say it...” Andrew, another classmate, muttered under his breath. The whole class seemed to collectively groan without even uttering a sound, their body language entirely palpable.

“With great power comes great responsibility!” Bag yelled as his fingers slipped from the desk, flying straight toward the ceiling. “You all know it’s true!”

“What a douche!” Dana guffawed, tossing her head back in mirth. The casual, joyful motion did not stop her from aiming her terrifyingly powerful green lasers from her eyes in the very instant that Bag intersected her vision, turning him into a smoldering black stain against the top of the room. His flesh and bone, all vaporized in an instant from the tender caress of Dana’s deadly vision.

The entire classroom screamed in terror.

“Quiet,” Dana ordered nonchalantly, flexing her tits. Those massive jugs bounced inside of her blouse, her nipples threatening to spill out of the checkered top. The males immediately found their gazes drawn to those breasts, their protests silenced by Dana’s sexuality. About half of the females were affected too. As for the others, Dana sensed them out in nanoseconds with her super senses, and the slightest pressure of her hypnotic trance shut them up as well.

“Now, where were me, Mr. Bro... ah yes! You want to pick someone to arm wrestle with me? Or do you want to see me roast another student? What if I flex my tits at you again, hmm? That would be worth it to you, wouldn’t it? Sacrificing your class, one at a time, just to see my boobs,” Dana smirked.

The Bro gulped and could do naught but stare at those breasts. Her smooth, tanned skin, the exquisite swell of her mounds, the sheer size on her shockingly fit and slender frame... her breasts called to him, tugged at his swollen, leaking erection with a phantom force that he could only describe as sexual gravity...

“Tick tock... 3... 2...” Dana counted down.

“I-I’ll go!” a brave student raised his hand and stood up from his seat.

“Tsk tsk, saved by your students. How pathetic!” Dana mocked. “And Andrew... who do you think you are? Spartadork?” she sneered.

“S-Spartacus...” The Bro corrected.

“Whatever! Come on up, Andrew. Time for you to demonstrate to the class how strong I am. Or I should say, how weak you are. How weak you all are,” she crooked her long, slim finger at him, beckoning him forward as her levitating body went from seated in midair to seated in The Bro’s chair.

Andrew gulped, his legs wobbly as he advanced. Certainly he was scared of the impossible feats that Dana was performing, but there was another reason. Long had he fantasized about being overpowered, emasculated, utterly dominated by a superior female, let alone an absolute goddess. And now that his fantasy appeared to be in the flesh, right in front of him, in this very class... surely, a personal and up close encounter with her would be worth the risk of death... wouldn’t it?

“Let’s try something classic, shall we?” Dana rested her elbow on The Bro’s polished wooden desk, hand up, palm open. A spare chair floated into the air and floated around to the opposite side of where Dana was sitting, as if being set in place by an invisible butler.

Andrew gulped and surreptitiously tried to adjust his erection with his gait. He was going to get to arm wrestle Dana?

For her part, Dana remained completely motionless and unreadable. She just sat there, a smug and superior look plastered on her gorgeous visage, the tension in the air palpable considering she had killed the Douchebag just by looking at him.

Finally, Andrew reached the seat. Sweat beaded down his brow as he placed his own elbow on the table. With trepidation, he slid his hand into Dana’s waiting grasp. He gasped at how soft and warm her skin was, the fragrant scent wafting off her body... the feeling of how absolute steely and solid her large, delicate palm was. It was as if she were crafted out of tungsten, completely unstoppable, completely unforgiving.

“Do we need... a... countdown?” Andrew suggested, actually knowing something about arm wrestling competitions, unlike Dana.

Dana stared at him blankly, and then broke into a condescending cackle. “A countdown? Pfft! What the fuck for, you weak little worm? Go ahead, try to move my arm, twerp.”

In preparation, Andrew clasped her hand as hard as he could, his fingers turning white as he squeezed as hard as he could. Then, with a heave of exertion, he grunted and tried to press her hand down toward the table, his elbow remaining glued to the table per the rules.

Dana yawned, covering her mouth with her spare hand. “Did you start yet?” she sneered.

Andrew grunted again and subconsciously grabbed the edge of the desk with his own spare hand, putting extra weight into it. Still Dana remained completely motionless.

“Come now,” Dana chided. “Isn’t that the hand you touch yourself with? You think it’d be strong at this point!”

Dana gently, lightly, applied the tiniest of pressure against Andrew’s hand with her long, silky fingers. But for some reason, Andrew began screaming and crying tears of pain, using his other hand to try and pray Dana’s sexy fingers off of his hand. He really leaned into the effort, standing up, his fingers white from exertion.

“Ooh, that’s it! Really put your whole body into it!” Dana cheered Andrew on.

He squealed and screamed, clearly unable to break Dana’s grasp. Out of desperation, he instead tried to win the arm wrestling match, his body tilted at a 45 degree angle as he put his entire body weight against Dana’s slim, toned arm. His face flushed red with pain and exertion, his sneakers squeaking against the polished floor as he did his best to win.

“So you see...” Dana gestured with her free hand at the struggling Andrew, “none of you can compare to a single hand of mine. And I’m not even trying! I guess I lied when I told you I would show you how strong I am,” she mused. “There is just literally no way for your stupid puny minds to understand the level of power I have!”

Without warning, Dana actually let Andrew’s full body weight tilt her arm back. The sudden lack of resistance caused Andrew to slip, his arms straightening and his legs and body falling forward, faceplanting right onto Mr. Bro’s desk.

“So pathetic!” Dana cackled. “But my hand isn’t down, by the way.”

Andrew raised his face off the desk, his nose and lip bloodied. Indeed, Dana’s smooth skin was less than a centimeter away from the surface of the desk.

He knew what was going to happen next.

His whole body flipped as Dana pivoted her arm from her elbow, lifting his hand—and therefore, the rest of his body—along with it. He flopped like a dead fish as his arm did the full 180 degree arc, carried by Dana’s effortless push. His shoulder popped from his socket, and the sheer force flipped his body, his feet leaving the ground briefly. The back of his hand slammed into the desk, which subsequently cracked in half. Amidst the splinters of the cheap wood lay Andrew and his dislocated shoulder, moaning in pain.

Dana’s feet barely left the floor, hovering above the rubble of the desk. Her green eyes glowed as she examined Andrew’s body with her x-ray vision, seeing the damage she’d done to his body with a gentle flick of her wrist. There was a rather conspicuous bulge in his jeans as well.

“Well, well, well...” Dana sneered, jabbing a long finger at Andrew’s saluting rod. “Look at how much Andrew loves pain and being emasculated!” Dana flexed her arm, a smooth round mound of muscle swelling in her arm, rising like a mountain underneath the sleeve of her flannel.

“So. Now that you know but don’t know how strong I am, what would you say about tyranny?” Dana grinned, flashing her pearly white teeth. “It’s debate club time!”