An Ultra Woman and Mega Girl Adventure

“Damn, who could that be at this hour?” Abigail Stone
thought as the phone by her bed rang mercilessly.

Normally a phone call, even at this late hour,
wouldn’t have bothered her that much. The problem with
answering this particular call was that Abigail was
practically naked and spread face down on her bed,
weighed down by one hundred and ninety-two pounds of
manhood. Not counting, of course, the six inches of
which was buried deep between her legs.

As was her usual Friday night practice, Abigail, or
Abby as she normally went by, had met her boyfriend,
Sergeant Nick Hamilton for dinner and a movie.
Tonight, as had become a pattern the last few weeks,
the movie had been skipped in favor of a rumble under
the sheets.

There were times, this being one of them, when Abby
thought she might have acted a little too hastily when
she finally gave in to Nick and invited him to her
bed. The twenty-five year old hadn’t been a virgin the
night of that invite, but of course she didn’t tell
him that. Even in this new modern world of 1947, it
was still important for a man to think he’d been the
first. Still, it would’ve been nice if he’d come up
with a ring on her finger beforehand to at least make
it more respectable.

Those thoughts faded from her mind in an instant when
she realized the phone had stopped in mid-ring. The
caller had either given up or …

“Oh no, Nick!” Abby thought in a panic as she looked
back over her shoulder and saw her lover had answered
the phone. “I’m not that modern that I want to explain
what a man is doing in my apartment this late at
night, answering my phone!”

“Sergeant Hamilton,” Nick answered the phone, not even
bothering to pull out of Abby.

Unable to get out from under the large man, Abby could
only watch as Nick listened silently to the call,
nodding his head a few time and then finally saying
he’d be right there.

“That was the desk sergeant at the Twenty-eighth
Precinct,” Nick said as he finally climbed off Abby.
“The Black Cat has stolen the Star of China from the
Metro Museum. The Chief wants me down there right
away.”

Abby sat up and looked at Nick with a stunned
expression, barely hearing what he had said. All she
could think of at this moment was that the people
downtown had known exactly where to call him. He’d
told his fellow police officers in whose apartment he
was spending the night. They didn’t have to be
detectives to know what they were doing. Suddenly,
Abby didn’t feel so modern after all.

“Gotta go babe,” the six foot two blond said as he
zippered up his pants, “duty calls.”

“That’s it?” Abby said, now standing in the center of
the bedroom, her well-proportioned figure garbed in
only stockings and a black garter belt. “Duty calls?”

“Hey, what can I say?” Nick said as he checked his 38
special before putting it back into his holster.
“We’ll have to make it another night.”

Then, without another thought about her, Nick Hamilton
was out the door.

“Damn him!” Abby cursed as she stared at the back of
her apartment door.

The five foot seven brunette wasn’t sure if she was
angrier with Nick because he had left her unfulfilled
or that he treated their relationship so casually as
to make it an open secret. She had met Sergeant Nick
Hamilton almost a year ago, after she had been
assigned to the child welfare section of the
Policewomen’s Bureau. She had soon found herself taken
by his rugged good looks and charm.

The Sergeant, on the other hand, had been immediately
mesmerized by her impressive bust the first time he
had seen her. Remembering the day they met, Abby
cupped her breasts, thinking how men found them so
fascinating. She knew they had opened many doors in
her life, even the one which had led her to the
Policewomen’s Bureau.

Ever since she was a child, listening to the stories
her father told at his knees, Abby Stone had wanted to
follow in what was considered the family business. Her
great grandfather had been a Texas Ranger. His son,
the Marshal who tracked down Bad Billy Brown and the
Walton Brothers. After the family had moved to the
West Coast, her father and two of his brothers had
become members of the Coast City Police, all rising to
the rank of Lieutenant or better. Four of their sons
now also served on the Force in various positions. It
seemed only natural that she could do so as well. Or
so she thought.

When Abby had first broached the idea of applying for
a job on the Police Force, soon after her eighteenth
birthday, both her Father and her Uncles had regarded
the idea as laughable. She would be wasting her time,
they’d told her. The Police Department only hired a
small handful of women, usually old matrons to handle
those few tasks that would be inappropriate for a man.

“Better you find yourself a nice job as a secretary or
something,” her father has advised her. “Something to
keep you busy until the right man comes along. Just
leave the business of crime fighting to the men.”

After being turned down twice by the department, Abby
had reluctantly done just that. That was until a
manpower shortage during the war had forced the
department to open the way for the recruitment of more
women. Police officers carried a deferment from the
draft, but enough of them had enlisted to cause a
small shortage.

The Chief of Police decided to solve what he perceived
as a temporary problem by increasing the size and
scope of the Policewomen’s Bureau. This would prevent
a swelling of the ranks in the department when all
those police officers turned soldiers and sailors
eventually came home. A law put on the books after
Pearl Harbor guaranteed them their jobs back with no
loss of seniority or pay.

Members of the Policewomen’s Bureau were paid less
than Policemen and were only allowed to handle certain
clerical and non-operational tasks. Still they were
useful filling positions that would free up male
officers for the real job of keeping the streets safe.

Applying for one of the coveted positions as soon as
they were announced, Abby found that there was plenty
of competition. The odds of getting one of the limited
openings increased against her when her father,
displeased with her decision, refused to use his
influence on her behalf. He wouldn’t stand in her way,
he’d said, but neither would he use his influence to
help.

On the day of her interview, Abby made a discovery
that she knew would help her. Almost to a woman, all
of the other applicants were what could only be
described as plain looking. At least as compared to
Abby. When she sat down for her interview with a
Captain and two Lieutenants, she knew they were more
interested in her chest than her office skills. They
reasoned, she figured, that if they now had to put up
with a woman in their previously all-male domains,
then it might as well be one who was nice to look at.

The newly hired Policewoman justified her use of her
sexual attraction to get on the Force by promising
herself that she would advance after that on the
quality of her merits rather than the size of her
boobs. It was a promise that she would find hard to
keep.

The main reason for that inability to advance was that
there didn’t seem to be any second level for
Policewomen. Issued a badge and even a gun, they had
absolutely no patrol duties. For the first two years,
Abby had been assigned as an assistant to the desk
sergeant at the First Precinct, Police Headquarters
itself. The work was hardly difficult, given the
secretarial skills she had developed on her prior job.
Still there was a certain fascination in being so
close to the action and playing what she believed was
a vital part.

That was until the war ended, and as the old song
said, Johnny came marching home. In her case, Johnny
turned out to be Officer Michael Patrick Mooney, a ten
year veteran who was quite anxious to get back to his
old job. A position that happened to be filled at the
moment by one Abigail Stone. Hardly unique in her
situation, Abby had been called into her Captain’s
office at the end of watch one Friday afternoon and
politely informed that Officer Mooney would be
returning to his old job come Monday morning.

“In fact, many of the women hired under the emergency
expansion are being let go,” he’d told her, “but
that’s not something you have to worry your pretty
head about. In appreciation for all your family has
given to the department, we’ve made sure a position
has been reserved for you in the child welfare
section.”

Abby had been crushed. In the blink of an eye, she had
gone from being a vital cog in the war on crime to
being responsible to changing dirty diapers and baby-
sitting kids passing under the responsibilities of the
child welfare agencies. When she got home, her father
had given her one of those “I told you so” looks, but
thankfully didn’t voice it as well.

One uneventful day seemed to just blend into another
after that. That was until the warm sunny afternoon
that she found herself standing in the same shoes that
had been worn by three generations of Stones before
her.

Abby had decided to walk home as it was such a nice
day. She was headed down Lucas Boulevard when the
alarm of the First National Bank filled the air. Drawn
across the street by the disturbance, she saw two men
racing out of the bank, bags of money in their hands.
Without a second thought, she drew her firearm and
called out for them to stop.

“Police!” Abby yelled as she assumed a firing position
just beyond the curb. “Drop your weapons and put your
hands up!”

The closest thief brought up his own pistol and fired,
the bullet whizzing past Abby’s head. Standing her
ground, she returned fire, a single shot hitting her
assailant dead center.

The other thief had jerked his head around, taking in
the woman with a gun pointed at him and the body of
his partner on the pavement, a large pool of blood
spreading out beneath it. Not filled with a desire to
join him, he opened his hands and lifted them into the
air, letting both his weapon and the bag of money fall
to the ground.

The press had a field day with the Hero Lady Cop. The
Mayor himself had pinned the medal on her dress
uniform with all her relatives on the force standing
behind her on the platform. The Chief of Police said
in his own speech that she was a credit to the
traditions of her family. Beaming with pride, Abby
knew that things were going to be different from now
on.

For the next few weeks, things were indeed different.
The hero of the hour found herself giving speeches to
one civic group after another. There was even some
talk of having her join the actual Police Force
itself. Abby was overjoyed as her dream seemed within
her grasp.

Then the winds of interest changed once more and all
such talk faded away. The requests for speeches
stopped, as did the instances she was asked her
opinion. The following week, less than two months
since the bank robbery, Abby found herself back at the
child welfare section. It was as if she had never
left.

On that night, Abby Stone came to a life changing
decision. If the department wouldn’t let her fight
crime as her forefathers had, well then she’d do it
without their help. Aside from her Father’s stories of
family history, Abby had also grown up on tales of
other heroes. Zorro, the Scarlet Pimpernel and most
recently on the radio, the Lone Ranger. Masked heroes
who had wielded their own brand of justice. That all
of these adventurers had been men didn’t bother the
twenty-three year old in the least.

Abby took a quick shower, thankful that her renovated
apartment was one of the few in the building to have
one. It wouldn’t do for her to go out with the scent
of their aborted coupling still clinging to her.
Stepping back into her bedroom, her skin still damp,
she unlocked an old hand made closet that had once
belonged to her grandmother. From within it, she
pulled out a specially designed bra.

When she had first joined the department, Abby had
considered the idea that her own particular dimensions
might impair some physical activities that might be
demanded of her. That was in the days when she
foolishly thought the Department had any intention of
letting her actually fight crime on the front lines.
The well-endowed women had sought out the help of Tony
Pastore, the nice old man who ran a neighborhood shop
that specialized in bras and undergarments.

She explained her problem to the sixty-six year old
and he promised that he could solve it. After working
on it for almost a week, he came up with a support bra
that was almost as lightweight as it was supportive.

Next out of the closet came a red costume, the tunic
of which bore a passing resemblance to the navy blue
uniform Abby normally wore as a Policewoman. In fact,
the design for the costume had begun with one of her
old uniforms.

When she had first decided to fight crime on her own,
Abby had again sought out the help of the old man who
had come to think of her as an adopted granddaughter.
Tony Pastore’s still talented fingers had turned a
simple sketch Abby had made into reality.

The tunic was double breasted with gold and white
trim. A matching skirt was also red, with the same
trim, the boots that completed the outfit were red as
well.

The last item out of the closet was a mask that was
sort of a half cowl. It covered her face but let her
hair hang free.

Abby stepped over to the large dressing mirror to
check her appearance. She smiled, happy at the result.
The image that looked back at her was not that of an
unappreciated and ill-used Policewoman, but rather the
adventurer the press had named Ultra Woman.

“Well, Black Cat,” she said to her reflection, “this
time you’ve gone too far.”

The fire escape out of Abby’s bedroom window led up to
the roof. Soon after she had taken the apartment, she
had discovered that she had the only apartment that
faced the sealed off alley between buildings. It made
for a perfect and private route out of her top floor
rooms. After a quick trip up the metal ladder, it was
a quick two rooftops to the Kirby and Lee Garage.
Hidden in a sealed off section of the garage was the
sleek black racer known as the Ultra-Glider. Less than
five minutes after leaving her apartment, Ultra Woman
was on the prowl.

Lifting the small microphone under the dash, Ultra
Woman sent a high frequency message letting her
partner Mega Girl knew she was in the field and her
destination. At the same time, she activated a small
electronic homing device in her belt buckle. Abby
didn’t pretend to understand half the gear Mega Girl
had set them up with, she only knew that they all
seemed to work flawlessly. The Ultra-Link, as it had
been christened, was a homing device, would allow each
of them to find the other, anywhere in a twenty mile
radius.

As the high powered Ultra-Glider raced through the
dark and for the most part empty streets, Ultra Woman
couldn’t help but think how much her life behind the
mask had changed over the last year. Originally, Ultra
Woman patrolled the city using an old 1938 Ford that
Abby had rescued from the police impound yard. The
Sergeant who ran the yard was more than willing to
lose the paperwork on a car headed for the scrap heap
in order to give much needed transportation for the
daughter of an old friend. Another friend, one who had
more ulterior motives, had volunteered to restore the
car to working condition. He’d succeeded in that, but
not in obtaining her thanks in the form he’d hoped
for.

Her weapons of crime-fighting were simply those she
had been taught to use all of her life. Carl Stone
might not have wanted his daughter to live the life he
envisioned for her brothers, but he still saw to it
that she spent just as many hours learning self-
defense. In her early teens, it was obvious to all the
men in her family that Abby was growing into a body
that would draw men like moths to a flame. Not all of
these men would have honorable intentions and they
wouldn’t always be there to protect her.

Aside from that, there was little in the way of
specialized equipment. At least nothing that hadn’t
come her way in the form of misplaced or even
misappropriated police supplies. As a result, a year
into her career and all she had little to show for her
efforts were a few minor accomplishments and some good
press. Most of which had come from a cynical press
that was more curious than impressed.

It was at one of those press functions a year ago, a
carefully staged event to promote Coast City tourism,
that Ultra Woman had first met Priscilla Ann
Wellington. A month shy of her eighteenth birthday,
Priscilla was the daughter of John and Cynthia
Wellington and heir to the Wellington Electronics
fortune. Five six and a gifted athlete as well, she
was already a millionaires the day she was born. In
addition, the strawberry blond had also inherited her
grandfather’s genius with gadgets.

Fascinated by the mystery woman since the day Ultra
Woman had first appeared; Priscilla had used her
family name to arrange both an invitation to the event
as well as a personal introduction to her idol. Ultra
Woman was slightly embarrassed by the almost outright
adulation the young girl displayed. In fact, it took
all of her self-control not to laugh when Priscilla
stated her desire to help with the fight against
crime.

Before the Crime-fighter could politely turn her down
and give her the standard “you can best help by
growing up to be a good citizen” speech, the girl had
already started her own speech about all these
wonderful inventions she was working on and what a big
help they could be. Ultra Woman was actually relieved
when a reporter she normally detested interrupted and
pulled her away.

Ultra Woman might not have been so quick to dismiss
the girl if she’d known that Priscilla was a child
prodigy who held a college degree when most girls her
age were happy with a high school diploma. Or the fact
that Priscilla wasn’t the type who was used to taking
no for an answer. On her own, the teenager set out to
prove both her worth and that of her ideas.

Two weeks later, there was a highly publicized threat
on the life of Mayor Roger Browning following the
conviction of Boss Thorne, the head of the local crime
family. In an act designed more to sell newspapers
than insure the Mayor’s protection, the Coast City Sun
had called on Ultra Woman to safeguard the Mayor.
Despite having no idea on how to do it, Abby had
accepted the challenge.

Standing beside Mayor Browning at the opening of the
new Civic Center a day later was a highly visible, if
ineffective, bodyguard. Somewhat out of her league,
Ultra Woman gave no notice to the two men slowly
moving through the crowd. In her defense, neither did
the Police pay much attention to the pair who were
working their way closer and closer to the Mayor.

It was only at the last moment, just before the would-
be assassins could draw their weapons, that a young
girl in a homemade costume suddenly leapt from the
parapet of the Civic Center and caught everyone’s
attention. In her hand, the red and white clad girl
held a small, unknown electronic device.

“Stop those men,” she cried out as she hit the ground,
“they’re going to shoot the Mayor!”

Taking the beeping device in her hand to be a possible
bomb, the Police rushed the new arrival instead. Only
Ultra Woman followed the girl’s command and rushed the
two men, just as their guns came into view.

The hard impact of Ultra Woman’s reinforced baton off
the side of the closest gunman’s head sent him
tumbling to the ground. A hard right cross took care
of the other, but not before he got off one shot which
thankfully went wild.

The loud single gunshot split the air, grabbing
everyone’s immediate attention. In the deafening
silence that followed, a single voice was heard. The
voice of an unknown bystander who gave birth to a new
legend.

“Ultra Woman and her partner saved the Mayor!” he had
cried.

The sudden association of the girl in red and white
with the heroine of the moment caused the Police to
quickly release her. With unbridled enthusiasm, she
quickly explained that the magnetic anomaly detector
in her hand had allowed her to ‘see’ the gunmen’s
hidden weapons. Photographers clamored for pictures of
the two together, and it was only when they were a few
feet apart that Ultra Woman recognized the girl as
Priscilla Wellington.

“What’s your partner’s name, Ultra Woman?” one of the
reporters called out.

The older Adventurer was about to explain that first
of all, she wasn’t her partner, when Priscilla cut her
off and said, “Mega Girl, that’s Ultra Woman and Mega
Girl.”

The press ate it up, making it the banner headline in
almost every major daily. Once they were away from the
crowd, Abby made it clear in no uncertain terms to
Priscilla that there wasn’t now, or ever, going to be
a team of Ultra Woman and Mega Girl.

The younger woman just answered her with a knowing
smile. A smile that was still there three days later
when Abby opened the door to her apartment and found
Priscilla standing there.

“What, how?” Abby stammered when she saw the girl,
totally losing her self-control.

It had taken the girl less than seventy-two hours to
figure out Ultra Woman’s identity. Part of it had been
the result of deductive reasoning; part of it had been
simple luck. Going over her large collection of both
newspaper and magazine articles about Ultra Woman,
Priscilla had come across an older City Magazine with
the front-page story “Beauty With a Badge” The article
had been about a hero policewoman who had captured two
armed bank robbers.

There was enough of a similarity in both women’s
builds to catch Priscilla’s attention. That plus the
fact that both were brunettes with shoulder length
hair. Contrary to popular male belief, there weren’t
an insurmountable number of beautiful young women with
a build like Ultra Woman in Coast City. When you
narrowed that down to brunettes, although the idea of
a wig had to be considered, the number dropped even
lower. Given the admittedly superficial resemblance
between Officer Abigail Stone and Ultra Woman, it
seemed as good a place to start as any.

When you are rich, many doors open with the wave of a
twenty-dollar bill. It was a simple matter to get
better copies of the photos of Officer Stone than
those that appeared in the grainy newsprint. Making
blowups of each woman’s face, Priscilla compared them
under a magnifying glass and saw enough in common to
investigate further.

It only took a few more comparisons and inquiries for
her to decide that she had lucked out on her very
first try. The only thing that made it seem improbable
was that how could no one have not noticed it before.
Officer Stone and Ultra Woman had to have run into the
same people in their official lives. It was like
saying you could just put on a pair of glasses and
people would think you were someone else.

Then, looking again at the pictures of both women,
Priscilla thought she saw the answer to her question.
Whereas she was immediately drawn to each woman’s
face, most of the people they came into contact with
centered their gaze somewhat lower. Even so, Priscilla
wasn’t totally sure until Abby opened the door and she
saw her reaction.

Abby had finally given in to what seemed the
inevitable and never had cause to regret it. Aside
from the financing and technological marvels that Mega
Girl brought to the partnership, she also brought
something else that Abby hadn’t even realized was
missing. A friend with which she could share all
things. A trip to Mr. Pastore’s shop for a more
professional costume soon followed, and the team of
Ultra Woman and Mega Girl was truly born.

Part Two

Before Ultra Woman knew it, the Metro Museum was in
front of her. She smiled at the uniformed patrolmen
waiting by their cruisers outside. A smile from a
beautiful woman usually got a positive response. She
knew that the Police Commissioner had standing orders
that she be allowed to investigate crime in the city,
as long as she didn’t get in the way of real
policemen. There was only so much even he would put up
with, even if she had the gratitude of the Mayor.

Once in the hall where the Star had been displayed,
Ultra Woman saw Sergeant Hamilton talking with another
Detective. When she wore the mask, she tried to think
of him as a fellow Crime-fighter, and not the man who
shared her bed. Still, not willing to press the
effectiveness of her disguise too much, she kept a
safe difference from him, instead looking over the
display case.

The closest uniformed Officer stepped out of the way
to give her an unobstructed view of the case. Although
at the same time, she couldn’t help but notice that he
had moved into a position where he had a better view
of her as well. Ignoring eyes that she was sure were
peeling away her costume, layer by layer, Ultra Woman
carefully surveyed the scene of the crime.

To her surprise, the display case was still intact.
None of the glass had even been broken. All of the
alarm wires were also intact, just as they had been
when the guard had made his rounds before the theft.
The Star of China had simply vanished.

At the bottom of the small pedestal where the diamond
had once sat, Ultra Woman notice a small amount of
fine powder.

“Had anyone taken a sample of this for the lab?” she
asked.

“That’s already been taken care of,” she heard a
familiar voice say from behind her. “The lab boys say
it’s just silicone dust.”

The Lady in Red tuned around to Sergeant Hamilton,
suppressing a smile at the situation. At least he
wasn’t staring down at her chest. Then again, he
didn’t need to. Not when he had a more personal view
of Abby’s.

“Silicone dust,” Ultra Woman repeated. “Any idea where
it came from?”

“That, they’re not sure of,” Hamilton answered. “Just
as they’re not sure how the Black Cat managed to open
the case, deactivate the alarm, take the diamond and
then put the whole thing back together — all in
twenty seconds.”

“Twenty seconds?”

“That was the time between when the Museum Guard last
saw the diamond on his rounds and the main alarm went
off,” Hamilton went on. “It was as if he reached right
through the glass and took the diamond. As if he was a
ghost.”

Ultra Woman listened silently. Too many pieces didn’t
fit. If the Cat was skilled enough to disable the
pedestal alarm in so quick a time, why hadn’t he also
taken out the one on the upper window he had come in
through. Surely he had a lot more than twenty seconds
to do that. Then, why reconnect the pedestal alarm at
all if he had already tripped the other one.

“Any thoughts, Ultra Woman?” the Sergeant interrupted.

“I don’t suppose anyone got a look at the Black Cat
this time?” she asked. After more than a dozen big
thefts over the last year, no one had even gotten so
much as a description of the Black Cat.

“No such luck,” he replied.

“Then how can you be so sure it was the Black Cat?”

Nick held out a small calling card which simply said –
“You have been robbed by the very best – The Black
Cat.”

“You did check everyone in the building at the time?”
Ultra Woman asked.

“Of course we did,” he said with a touch of annoyance.
“You’re not dealing with amateurs here you know. No
one walked out of here with that diamond!”

“I didn’t mean to suggest that any of your men were,”
Ultra Woman apologized.

Deciding that she wasn’t going to learn anything more
here, Ultra Woman thanked Sergeant Hamilton for his
help and headed back to the Glider. It was just as
well that she knew Nick wouldn’t be back tonight to
finish what they’d started, the woman behind the mask
told herself. When he was in this kind of mood, Nick
was a truly lousy fuck.

Ultra Woman started down the long steps of the museum,
passing the two patrolmen she had passed on the way
in. Thinking she was out of earshot, one of the
officers made a comment she wished she hadn’t
overheard.