Megaton vs American Idol/Lana Powers

something i threw together between comissions over the last few months. thought it would be fun to write a superheroine catfight. hope to do more some time, and open to suggestions and criticism

“And what exactly is the problem now, Powers?”
Lana Powers fidgeted awkwardly under the gaze of her gym coach. She was a stereotype in and of herself, a highschooler with messy, dark brown hair that got in her face. Her bangs were only kept at bay from poking herself in the eyes by the black-rimmed glasses she wore, and her skin was a shade that suggested she had some unknown, darker minority lurking several generations in her past. She wore jeans and old sneakers, and a baggy red hoodie she kept on constantly these past few months.
“I just… don’t need to take off my hoodie, that’s all,” she muttered meekly in reply, shuffling her sneakers on the gym floor as the other girls watched in amusement. Everyone else wore the standard gym uniform, shorts and jersey-like tops or tees, making her stand out all the more.
“Nobody else seems to have a problem with the uniform, Powers. What exactly makes you so very special?” the coach persisted.
“Well,” Lana said with a perky tilt of her head. “I had a weird run in with my science teacher a few months ago. See, we were messing around with his research project, which I THOUGHT was just in developing new ideas for an electric car or something, but found out way later it was for weaponizing some energy source he’d invented. He sprung the idea of testing it on me, but you know, not in the bad way where he just shoots me with it, but stuck these gloves on me… no, gauntlets, I guess. But yea, he sticks em on and they strap onto me, giving me superhuman powers like punching shit, only they don’t really come off. So it was ok to wear this through health class, but if it’s ok with you, teach, I’d rather leave my super identity a secret, okay?”


Then she stopped daydreaming. “I um… I have a weird birth mark there…” she mumbled to her teacher, avoiding eye contact. Powers or not, she was a pretty crappy liar. It was her status as already being a freak at school that kept this from sticking out too badly.  She was unpopular, didn’t like wearing popular or trashy clothes (they were usually one and the same), and kept to herself. She wasn’t even one of the science geeks, just above average intelligence and needed the extra credit from her science professor. If she were smarter, maybe she could help him figure out how to get the power gauntlets off, or come up with a better way to hide them.
“And I’m not special or anything, it’s just…. I don’t think that it’s important that everyone dress up for gym, is all.”
The gym coach kept up her sour expression and looked ready to give her a final warning to when a booming came from the distance outside, and the ground rumbled beneath their feet, a minor earthquake that caused everyone to have to reclaim their footing. “What in the red white and blue hell?” grumbled the coach before there was a loud crash, the wall of the far side of the gym suddenly gaining a large hole in it as a tall figure barged through it.
The woman lifted her head and shook her body like a dog, shedding the leftover dust and rubble that clung to her largely bared body. She stood comfortably over six and a half feet tall, a no part of her even allowing the thought that she showed any sign of weakness. Sharp green eyes, a firm jawline, black hair straight (if not a bit dirty) just above her shoulders, broad shoulders, a full and outthrust chest, hard flat abs, thick sturdy legs, a skimpy black outfit that showed off a farmer’s tan. Nothing on earth would whole-heartedly want to fuck with this woman. There would, of course, be those who would want to just plain fuck her, but the handful who could survive it would be lured in by the cleavage- baring, thigh-hugging black leather outfit that seemed so popular with heroines and villainesses alike.
The woman grinned, her face marked with a small, seemingly useless streak of chamoflauge on each cheek, and a headband wrapped around her forehead, another around the bulging bicep of the arm that held the large duffel back. People gaped on, most unnoticing of the bag itself being partly open, a large wads of bills inside.
“SO sorry, little ladies,” she chimed casually. “You know how police can get. They’re squishy and fragile and all, but annoying enough that you might as well avoid em, and this was the only shortcut to the ol’ base I knew about. I’m sure you understand.”

“Fucking Megaton,” Lara hissed under her breath in the locker room, slipping away while everyone else was distracted. She ditched her hoodie and went to work with the supplies from her backpack. “She has a figure that can pull off that kind of slut suit. And a body that doesn’t have a way too identifiable scar from falling off her tricycle as a kid…”
Lara threw on her makeshift hero disguise. She decided early on a traditional superhero outfit wouldn’t be very practical to drag around, so she’d made do with using her own unpopularity to her advantage. She’d swiped a spare cheerleader outfit some time ago and tailored it a bit to be less recognizable. She slid on the red and blue low-cut top and short skirt, a pair of thick boots (practical ones, not those hooker boots), and tied up her hair behind her in a cute set of ponytail. She put a bit of pink lipstick over her full lips and a very brief, quick application of makeup. She adjusted her top to make sure the push-up bra was in place, and that the diamond shaped hole was perfectly placed to expose as much of her breasts (namely cleavage and sideboob) as seemed casually legal.
And there! She was disguised! American Idol was her tentative name in the news, but it wasn’t something she was in love with. Just couldn’t come up with anything better. But her alter ego was working wonderfully. Nobody noticed the dorky girl in the hoody, so the slutted up cheerleader with the eye-drawing rack would be her polar opposite, like in those teen movies where the nerd gets a makeover. Then she has to infiltrate a frat and learns about herself or something. She didn’t watch a lot of those… but either way, if the disguise didn’t get them to avoid putting two and two together, the “over here!” tits window would keep them from studying her face too closely.

But Megaton... she was big leagues. Lara had beaten up plenty of thugs and muggers, and she knew there were mutants and wizards and aliens out there with actual powers. She even tangled with a few of them, but tried to keep her crime fighting fairly mundane leveled. Megaton was a majorly powerful bitch, apparently a former military trainee who had been hit with some experimental bomb. The radiation or whatever was involved gave her exponential growth in her strength and size (everywhere, it seemed, based on her DDD cup rack), but had also done odd things with her hormones and brain waves. In short, she was a normal, very strong woman, but now and then her mind and body would shift into a semi-primal state of rage, greed and ferocity, a vicious alpha female who raged and did whatever she wanted until some hero or massive military force put her down.

"And lucky me, I get to play 'massive military force' today..." She sighed. If she did come out on top, it would be good for her popularity. It might also bring down a new arch enemy, as these things tend to do, but... she couldn't just ignore it.
Megaton held a pair of screaming girls up by the hair, grinning proudly to them. "Well, not a total loss. I did pick up a pair of sexy little hostages in the process."
BOINK!
Megaton barely registered the feeling, pausing before looking at her feet. A dodgeball. She turned and looked up the bleachers, where small-time hero the American Idol stood, tossing another dodgeball up and down in her hand.
"Sorry, tons of fun. That means you're out," Powers said proud and loud (another reason she wasn't recognizable). "So why not sit on the sidelines until the police comes to take you home?"
Megaton laughed at her, dropping one of the girls and cracking her knuckles with one hand. "Oh, you should have killed me with that free shot, not made a fucking pun." She reared back her hand and whipped the remaining blond hostage at AI, flying screaming through the air.
"It wasn't so much a pun as a rhetorik, I guess OHFUCKINGHELL!" Powers panicked and threw up her gauntleted mitts, grabbing annoying gossip bitch Becky Winters out of the air. She looked dizzy when Powers set her back down, maybe short an inch or so of hair, but alright.
"Oh wow... you just saved me..." Becky muttered, looking in surprise at AI... and was she blushing.
"Lez out later, promise," AI insisted with a frown, turning back just as Megaton was barreling up the bleaches, smashing each seat beneath her feet as she went.
"Ok, big guns time is now!" Powers thought, he gauntlets glowing a bright green within its various tubing and fortified glass. She clenched her fists and clapped her arms together, giving off a violent subatomic shockwave that blasted out as a green laser beam into Megaton, hurling her back across the entire gym and through the wall.

"Oh please, let this be a short anti-climax," American Idol whispered under her breath as the rubble fell over the hole in the wall. Her bracers blinked their green light, indicating it would be able to uphold the thin barriers that would provide her super strength and protection, but her trump card (the power beams) would be out of the game for a while until its mini-generators repopulated it with quasi-matter... or something. Again, she didn't actually make them...

"I'm gonna hang your naked ass up a flagpole for that!!!" raged the voice on the other side of the wall.
"Nope, that's not melodramatic enough," Powers sighed, hopping down from the bleachers in one go. She had to distance herself from the crowd of other teens before they got hurt or started asking questions. She hopped out of the hole in the wall, looking around for the propelled villain... and finding nothing.
Megaton had leapt up to the roof, now hurling herself and swinging a beachball-sized hunk of concrete at the heroine's head. The improvised weapon shattered into debris against American Idol's head, knocking the teenager to the pavement with a loud grunt, which was in turn drowned out by the smashing stone. The barriers made by the gauntlets saved her from dying on the spot, but still stung as it acted more like a genuine suit of armor than invincibility. A blow to the helmet won’t crack your skull open, but it will still leave your head rattling around plenty.
She was downed and groaning, holding her head when Megaton stooped down, grabbing her by the hair Powers cried out in pain, lifted clean off her feet by the powerhouse villainess as she shook her, body flopping like a rag doll as she tried to hold her scalp to reduce the pain.
“No more laser suckerpunches out of you, super tart” she growled, winding up and hurling Powers several blocks through the air. By the time she opened her eyes felt the wind in her hair and was sailing over the rooftops, and shortly thereafter she felt herself landing roughly on a rooftop to a skyscraper and bouncing a few times before stopping, wind knocked out of her and her ribs and scalp sore, but long run… probably ok.

Powers boosted herself up to all fours, huffing some air back into her lungs but hearing more smashing distant below. She leaned over the edge, seeing Megaton stalking her up the wall, fists and fingers slamming handholds into the wall as her muscled arms hauled her up after her. It was a good 10 stories down, high up but at least Megaton had some work to get to her.
"Dammit," she groaned, but at least she was focused on fighting her rather than some squishier normal person. "Gotta think fast." Powers browsed over her assortment of super powers, but decided to stick with a classic maneuver. As Megaton's head came into view, Powers was standing there waiting with a leg drawn back, kicing to launch dust and dirt into her eyes.
"I'll take an antihero point for that one, if it means keeping my head" she excused in the back of her mind. Megaton gave a sharp cry and clutched her face, leaving her blind as Powers leapt up and performed a spin kick to slam her in the face. A chunk of the rooftop cracked and gave way under her strong strong grip as Megaton tilted back a bit. Powers went for another, but this time Megaton caught her by the foot as it hit her in the chest, falling back up taking her with her off the roof.
The two fell down towards the streets,Megaton blinded and swinging long, hard blows at her. Powers took a few to the chest and jaw, bouncing her head and tits around, but dodged the worst of the unaimed shots. Powers grabbed Megaton by the hair, swinging a fist rapidly into her face adn trying to mount herself on top of her to keep her aimed at the ground, so she would hit it full blast.
There was indeed a massive crash as over 200 lbs of muscle smashed into the pavement from 10 stories up. And that was not counting Powers. It was  a combination of the sound of flesh colliding and a cracking of pavement, leaving a crater about 4 feet deep at its center and easily 12 feet wide. The impact hurled Powers off of her foe, bouncing wildly away, but Megaton's loud groaning clearly showing she took the brunt of the impact.
Powers shook out her head, laughing a bit as the adrenaline still rushed in her from the freefalling brawl. "Ha! Had enough, big guy?" she huffed, standing up but having to lean on the wall after a second whens he got dizzy.
"Urghh... gonna milk those super tits dry when I get my hands on you," Megaton groaned, starting to stand up slowly, leaning on her knee.
"Ok, no time to rest after all," Powers sighed, rushing at her and leaping to deliver a crushing blow across the face. Megaton's head bucked, but barely bruised let alone bleeding for all the beating she'd taken. Blasted through two walls and dropped off a roof, and the muscle bitch still looked good.
Megaton was knocked back to rest on one arm, but grabbed Powers around the neck with one massive hand. She lifted her up and slammed her head by it repeatedly into the pavement. Her nose crashed rapidly into the hard ground, cracking it with her face in spreading fractures. Her face itself remained largely in tact, if not dirtied, but the pain still shot through her teen tender face plenty.
"DIRTY! CHEATING! TRAMP!" Megaton snarled at her, hurling her to the ground like a frustrated ape. She raised a boot to stomp on her head, but Powers rolled aside by instinct when the attack let up. Megaton's boot damaged the pavement in the alleyway further, Powers lashing up and grabbing hold of her opponent's hair. She swung it hard into the nearest wall, Megaton's head slamming through the brick. She wound up to slam her head down again, but Megaton's thick arm reached out around her shoulder, grabbing and smashing Powers' head through the wall after her. She was almost face to face with the villainess again, apparently their necks and up inside someone's kitchen as a random housewife nearby screamed.
Megaton snarled and slammed her head forward again, and Powers felt no hard impact of steel or concrete this time, but a swelling sensation at her head. She realized she was submerged in the kitchen sink, as well as the fact that the kinetic barriers of the gauntlets didn't do much for drowning. She gurgled and struggled, spitting out bubbles under the water and clawing at Megaton's iron grip.
Realizing that wasn't getting her much of anywhere, Megaton still grinning madly down at her, Powers leaned into her dunking, grabbing the hole in the wall she was pressed through and shooting a kick into Megaton's knee and making her lose her footing.
Powers spent a moment rising to gasp for air when Megaton grabbed at her aching knee joint, then turned and grabbed the edges of the kitchen sink, ripping up the sink and its entire counter space before turning and swinging it as a crude club, smashing Megaton across the face and sending her tumbling through the alley and into the streets. Civilians and cars sped and swerved away from the action, Powers catching her breath a moment before rushing after her, wet hair whipping behind her.

Megaton was rising dazed from the streets when Powers came sprinting after her. She leapt up and braced a foot on the overgrown she-beast’s thigh and a knee on her breasts, supported by the villain’s bulk as she started to swing away with a barrage of punches to the face. Megaton’s head whipped back and forth. There were no bruises or blood showing on her inpenetrable skin, but the winces and grunts of pain told Powers her amplified bombardment was doing a number on her all the same.
Megaton reached up when she got used to the shocks of pain, throwing up her arms to grab Powers by the shoulders. She yanked on her arms, pulling straight out to stretch the limbs outward.
“If I can’t beat you to shit, I’ll tear you to pieces!” fumed the villainess, pupils changing visibly changing size as her chemical-ridden brain was going more and more berserk as the possibility of loss entered the recesses of her mind. Powers screamed out as her arms felt ready to come out of her sockets, thrashing and writhing a bit to try and dislodge herself. When that failed, she thought fast and swung her legs up, using Megaton’s grip like parallel bars to hook her thighs around Megaton’s neck. She twisted and flung Megaton off balance, tumbling into a truck and banging her head on the door.
Powers rushed after her while she was leaned up against the truck, dragging herself up by it. That was how it appeared, at the time, she’d tell herself. Really, Megaton wasn’t grabbing support, but a weapon. She let out a giant snarl and swung her hips, digging her fingers into the tanker truck and smashing Powers across the face with it. It shattered at the impact, hurling Powers away and utterly soaked.
The stink gave it away quickly. “A beer truck,” she groaned in her dazed and battered brain as she laid out on the sidewalk sticky and wet. “Wait til I have to explain this to mom…” She barely got a hand on the pavement to push herself up when Megaton was already back on her, discarding the remains of the vehicle. When she stood up on shaky legs, there was a sound of tearing wood. She looked up to see Megaton wielding an entire telephone poll, swinging it like a club to smash Powers cross the face. Spit flew from her mouth, stumbling to one side awkwardly. She struck again, thrusting it forward to ram Powers in the belly. She huffed and doubled up, wet ass sticking out under her skirt. Worse still, her legs spread out to let her balance in this awkward stance, and Megaton lowered her giant weapon before swinging it upward. Powers’ eyes went wide and her mouth hung open in a pathetically silent squeak, choking as the telephone pole swung like a rising hammer into her teen pussy.
She fell to the ground paralyzed in pain as Megaton threw her weapon aside and stood over her, raising a booted foot and smashing it down onto Powers’ guts before one more between Powers’ legs for good measure.
A high shriek left the heroine as she spasmed under her pussy stomp, Megaton’s teeth bared in a wild grin. “That’s what I like to hear! Scream, blondy! Tell me how much it hurts!”  She grinded her heel into her, Powers fearing even her barrier wouldn’t hold up to stop her pelvis from being crushed between her foot and the sidewalk. Powers threw desperate kicked up at Megaton’s thighs and legs, even landing a pussy shot of her own in her desperation, but adrenaline and super skin let her grin and bear it, even as it stung Megaton’s own tenderized body as her powers seemed near their own limits.
“See? Not all of us are such lightweights. Now let’s see if I can’t pop that little hero cherry of yours… and the REST of you while I’m at it!!” Megaton raised her boot for another curb stomp that would turn any other human into an indistinguishable blood stain. Powers felt her life flash before her eyes, mind racing between prayers, tactics, and regrets in wardrobe as her skirt and soaked panties did not allow much for fans to imagine.
But a few panicking brain cells collided. Her cunt could be hurt even under the barrier when it was hit hard enough. She couldn’t hit with enough power to match Megaton’s raw power or endurance, but…
She didn’t have time to check the meter on her gauntlets, just throwing up an arm and grabbing hold of Megaton’s crotch. The villainess hesitated a split second before trying to continue, only for the gloves to glow and give a freshly recharged explosion of kinetic energy. The last blast to the pussy had Megaton howl in pain just before flying backward and through an entire office building before landing on the ground, holding her smoking crotch that was seared down to her underwear. Powers distantly wondered what it was about super underwear that never burned or blew off, but she ignored it for now as she limped after her.
Megaton still squirmed and groaned, rubbing her burned and aching thighs and cringing weakly. She felt her hair pulled, yanking her into a sitting position so Powers could kneel behind her and wrap an arm around her throat. “Can suck up all the bullets you want, chunky,” she huffed, arching her back to pull the hold harder and mash her boobs into Megaton’s shoulderblades. “But even us supers gotta breathe.”
The brutish woman gurgled and grabbed at her with her big ape hands, but couldn’t get the power or leverage to do a thing beyond pull Powers’ hair. Powers felt her struggle for a few minutes before even her super lungs gave out, going limp and drooling messily over Powers’ arm.
“Gross,” she grunted, standing up and staggering back as police finally dared to approach. “Take em away. She’s harmless, for a while.” She knew about Prometheus Island, the place off the coast where they had special gear to contain all sorts of super villains. It worked great, and it had to, because Powers shuddered to think of the sorts that could get loose if it failed.
“Thank  a lot, Idol,” one of the officers said, and Powers had to blush and smile back.
“Thanks,” she sighed, starting to walk off before he spoke up.
“Don’t mind me sayin’ so, you’re a real hero, ma’am,” he said with a charming smile. “They all say Major Muscles is a sellout, and Magnum Man’s a nut ball, and Righteous is a good doll but she’s kinda preachy… But you, you’re a real favorite down at the force.”
She was bright red now, shuffling her feet. “Well…. Thanks. That kinda means a lot to me…” Better than Major Muscles? She had to wonder how she stacked up to the other female heroes like Amazonian and She-Beast, but she felt sure he counted them too.
She gave them a proud little salute before walking off, not too quickly in case they had more compliments for her. It was all the same for the cops, because in her mind-numbing soreness and exhaustion, she didn’t notice the tear in her skirt from all the beatings it took, and that the beer-soaked panties were wedged right up her ass crack for all to see as they watched her go.
“Like I says,” the cop smiled and shook his head, tucking that mental photograph away for later. “A real favorite.”

Spy Harder

**recent commission, customer wanted a one-sided beat down. not my favorite setup, but I can write it. Kind of like writing the delusion of hope into the loser's perspective, though**



Amanda Pines entered the hotel, presenting her fully prepaid registration to the clerk. Nothing out of the ordinary about her at a glance, apart from a particular rare beauty about her. She was preened and primped with extreme effort, finely done makeup and hair and reasonably expensive clothes. A fine fur-lined coat covered most of her body apart from some boots and slacks on to keep out the cold winds of a New York winter. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially for another American traveler.
Of course, Agents Pines wasn't necessarily a normal traveler, beneath her cover. She went upstairs, entering her room and reviewing her schedule as she shed her winter clothing. The cleaning staff was supposed to be working this level about now, but she'd seen that the usual worker would be delayed from car trouble. It left Room 158 without a cleaner for the day, but Ilsa wouldn't be expecting this. It was a perfect chance for Pines to launch her ambush and stop the crooked commy spy once and for all, quickly and quietly.
Pines granted herself a look into the full-length mirror attached to the closet. She wore her trusty form-fitting catsuit underneath it, hugging her slim and sexy 5'8, 112 lb figure tightly enough to leave nothing to the imagination. A healthy and well defined body; slim waist, long legs, well-kept hair and makeup, a tight ass, and perky, shapely C-cups. She was the envy of girls half her age, and she knew it. A part of her adored it, and while her suit was ideally chamoflauged as a dull black, left no loose bits to leave skin samples or clothing fibers to identify her with, and provided minimal friction to her movements, she loved most of all was the faces she got on distracted targets and henchmen who got a look at her.
She flashed herself a winning smile at the mirror and walked briskly and quietly out the door to her room. She knocked lightly on Ilsa's door. "Housekeeping," Pines called softly.
"Come in," responded a clear, American-sounding voice. Pines still recognized the voice, swinging the door open and bursting in. Ilsa awaited her inside, a gun raised at her. Amanda was ready for such an occurance, a quick slam of her palm hitting the side of her pistol and pinning it to the wall, a twist of her wrist spiraling it out of Ilsa's grip.
Ilsa shook a strong wrist to break her hand free from Amanda's grip rather quickly. The girls took a half pace back, regrouping and giving Amanda her first good look at the Russian agent.

Ilsa was shorter but significantly bigger than Agent Pines, for better or worse. She was 5'4, and 250 lbs, and had a lovely face with thick dark hair, and most resemblances ended there. Ilsa was a full figured woman, plenty of muscle even if it was mostly buried under a few layers of dense fat. Her tits were huge, almost spherical E cups, soft and with a low enough cut on her suit to show them jiggle with almost any movement. Her arms were widely built, though the muscles only showed much when she flexed, and thighs and belly were far wider and meatier than Amanda's. While Amanda was poured into her costume like a liquid, Ilsa's body barged inside of her outfit and demanded it make room for her.
 When she confidently cocked her hip, placing a hand on her side, just above her buttock, her own catsuit bulged in reaction to contain her broad body. "Cute. Is this the best the Americans  have to stop me?" she grinned broadly.
"It's all we need for a lousy spy like you," Amanda insisted, maintaining her confidence. Ilsa was bigger than she'd expected up close, but she was still a trained secret agent. She'd fought bigger targets, usually armed. She rainsed her hands in a flexible martial arts stance, while Ilsa strut after her with at least as much confidence as the American agent, big hips wiggling with her stride.
Amanda lashed out with her fingers extended stiffly, a thrust trying to stop the fight quickly with a jab to the throat. Ilsa surpised her as she easily batted the hand away in mid-strike with her forearm, Amanda taking a desperate swing with her other hand at the Russian's head. She halted the sloppy move just as easily, both arms raised and ready as she swung her big hands inward to box the American's ears. A nasty pop went through Amanda's head from the move, knees getting weak as her nerves reacted poorly to the whole experience. She caught herself on the wall, leaning on it and wincing painfully as she held her head. It was more than enough of an opening for Ilsa to swing a meaty fist up into Amanda's belly, knuckles sinking into her shallow stomach and beating the wind right out of her.
"UHFFF!" Amanda wheezed, holding her belly and falling to her knees. She coughed some air back into her lungs while Ilsa towered over her, laughing loudly down at her. "Puny American barbie doll! Is U.S. so short on soldiers they send street walkers to fight me?"
Amanda growled lowly, pulling herself back to her feet. More infuriatingly, Ilsa LET her. She stood with an almost impatient posture that goaded her on. Ilsa wasn't going to be afraid of her, she'd have to make her learn to be.
Agent Pines was only mostly upright when she blindsided Ilsa with a horizontal kick to the leg, connecting with her beefy thigh. Ilsa barely budged, her juicy tits wobbling more than her tree trunk legs. Ilsa took a moment to look down at the stunned American agent, grinning before she took her by the hair, her hefty hand pulling her closer to her as Amanda flailed and screamed at the painful pull. Ilsa yanked her head under her arm, locking a meaty arm around her head and snaring her in a headlock.
Pines was begrudgingly forced to face their size advantage up close, her face pressed up against Ilsa's chubby side as a brawny limb pushed down on it. Ilsa fought for breath a moment before swinging her smaller fists into Ilsa's sides, a wild spray of punches to try and deter the meaty Russian. Her fat sides wobbled from the hits, Amanda worrying at first that the blubber was outright absorbing them before Ilsa let out a frustrated snarl, twisting her body to slam Amanda's head into the nearby wall. The American saw stars and stripes as she hit the carpeted floor, taking some tiny amount of pride in the fact her attack had at least aggrivated Ilsa, or hurt her if she was lucky.
Ilsa, meanwhile, was grinning over her. This was the agent at her best, and after a few hits like those, she looked spent. She wanted to toy with the American, break her body and her pride some more.
"Come on, super girl! This the strength of your precious country?" she goaded, waving her hands out invitingly. Amanda dragged herself up to a knee, holding her head. She threw a punch for Ilsa's big belly, bouncing off and getting a rather tiny grunt out of the dark-haired Russian. Amanda's spirits sank as it felt like her fist had barely even penetrated her hated enemy's natural padding. Ilsa flashed her a mouthful of teeth and a cruel booming laugh before grabbing Amanda by the wrist. The sheer power in her fingers made Amanda give a shout, body quivering in a jolt of pain as Ilsa twisted it, bending her arm so the rest of Amanda's body had to twist to follow.
"AHH! AHH! AHH!" she pleaded wordlessly, the pressure strong and steady on her arm in Ilsa's grip. Utterly at her mercy, Ilsa grinned down at her. She stepped over the American girl, straddling her body a moment before her big body came crashing down. Ilsa's big round ass hammered into her lower back, smashing Amanda to the ground as her slender body couldn't possibly hold over 100 pounds more than she weighed, especially in her condition.
Amanda did her pancake impression on the carpent, modest tits crushed under her ribs as she flopped pathetically. Ilsa's center of weight was apparent, as her huge ass enveloped and spread out over the skinny agent's own toned bum, as if devouring it as the weaker of its kind.
"Have I mentioned I love American girls?" Ilsa gloated over her as Amanda groaned and moaned as she grabbed for anything to pull herself free or arm herself with. But her firearm, and even the bedstand and tables, were too far for even her long lanky arms. "You all make such beautiful noises when you're in pain! Just like eeevery other yankee who comes after me!"
Ilsa was facing Amanda's feet by now, so she grabbed the taller girl's long sexy legs, bending them up until her pelvis left the mat. Amanda let out another groan as her slender back was agonized, not helped by Ilsa having still pinned her down with her grand backside. Amanda's legs were bent backward and upward, mimicking a boston crab hold from pro wrestling but practiced enough in hurting and killing to make sure the pain was real.
When she felt Amanda was satisfactorally pained, thigh and calf muscles stretched near their limits, Ilsa shifted her position, hooking her legs out and wrapping them around the American beauty's. While Amanda's were long, tight and slender, Ilsa's body once again outdid and overpowered hers, her fat but solid limbs crushing them towards her back. It wasn't much stronger than Ilsa's brawny arms, but the legs that had taken Amanda's leg sweep like a summer breeze were sturdy as could be. They supported a body like Ilsa's, after all, on top of the excess training and exercise under her (very wide) belt, so the combined weight made her legs not even consider budging against the puny might of Amanda's.
"I could do this all day, American," Ilsa smirked. "Tell me. Make Ilsa laugh. What is it you were trying to do when you found me."
"I won't talk," Amanda growled, clearly more spirit than power behind it.
"Good! With lovers and prisoners, Ilsa likes screams more than talk anyway." She leaned back, arching her chubby body until her tits looked ready to quit their current position and explode right out of her catsuit. It also served to yank her legs back further, getting another feminine howl out of Amanda.
Amanda seemed to only have the strength to claw and beat on the carpet, Ilsa using her new angle to admire herself in the mirror, much like Amanda had minutes earlier. The difference was, naturally, that she had a prize to pose with, and the original poser was now buried under 200+ pounds of Russian plus-sizedbeauty.
"Come now, princess," Ilsa said when she was done preening. "Much more time to play!" She unwrapped her legs from Amanda's, which fell like lifeless stumps to the floor. Amanda was panting, finally able to get a breath in that wasn't quite so forced or part of a scream. Ilsa stood up over her, patting Amanda's ass condescendingly.
"Come come, on your feet for Mama Ilsa!" she urged, and when Amanda's body failed to obey, whether her mind did or not, Ilsa grabbed onto her hair with a rough fistful. Amanda let out an "AIEEE!" of pain, skinny body writhing at another shocking jolt. Ilsa used her other hand to get a grip on Amanda's catsuit, just below the waist, and tugged up hard with a hefty grunt, reminding Amanda distantly of one of those strong man contests or weight lifters.
It came to her why, as she felt herself whizz through the air. She saw briefly in the mirror that she was horribly accurate with her association. Ilsa had lifted her clean off her feet, and lifted her with no minor effort, but still completely over her own head like a dumbell. Amanda flailed and screamed in surprise, then in fear as she realized just how far down it was between her face and the floor.
"Oh, you want down!?" Ilsa laughed loudly, clearly sweating but only just so with the force of lifting and balancing the invading American. "Ilsa can help with that!"
She swung her arms down and let go, abruptly smashing Amanda down on the bed. She hit hard and bounced clean back off the springy bed, not once but twice before settling on her back, staring agape at the ceiling splayed out like a corpse.
"No time for bed, sleepy girl!" Ilsa grinned, suddenly appearing in her line of sight. It was getting incredibly strange for Pines to keep seeing the shorter, thicker girl appearing over her. Then again, the last time she was above her was when she was being lifted like a rag doll, so maybe it could be worse.
Ilsa wrapped her thick gorilla arms around Amanda's slender waist, lifting her up off the bed in her strong but loose grip. She pulled Amanda sharply into her, bearhugging the skinny American into her bigger body. Amanda cried out painfully, Ilsa recklessly wrecking her back with the hug as none of thestaff would be there to overhear them. She lifted Amanda up higher, the American agent able to rest her head briefly on her shoulder. Ilsa made sure even her long legs wouldn't be touching the ground at the angle, concentrating the pain of her squashing grip right into Agent Pines' back.
Amanda's face went red and wide-eyed from the cracking in her spine as Ilsa played chiropracter on her. She slapped at Ilsa's back, for leverage at first to minimize the pain, the clawing and thumping her fist between her shoulder blades. Even that couldn't budge the burly Russian, as she swung herself in one direction, leaving Amanda's spindly body to buck along with her and snap to a halt in the iron grasp, giving another jolt through her spine. Ilsa's belly wobbled aginst hers, like miniature slaps to Amanda's own tight and slender stomach.
"Aghhh!!" Amanda howled out, managing to get her body back to an angle where she could get her hands between her and Ilsa, shoving at the shorter thicker woman's chest. It ached her back further, bending herself like that as her hands sunk into Ilsa's impressive tit flesh like shallow quicksand. Ilsa smirked confidently at her struggles, getting nowhere fast in the sturdy arms of the Russian. Amanda tried to grab at her biceps and shove them outward, but they were all but set in stone, her biceps twitching a bit but unrelenting in the squeezing.
Desperate for a way out, Amanda had nothing more to prove. She brought her painted nails up in a quick rake across Ilsa's face, the beastly strong woman letting out a sharp surprised growl as releasing one arm to hold her face and the red marks that lashed across her eyes. Ilsa's eyes watered, but she still held on tight to Amanda with her remaining arm. Amanda shoved and kicked at her, pushing away with both hands... and STILL she barely moved! Ilsa was still keeping her captive with one arm to her entire body! She was fighting a miniaturized mountain of a woman!
With all her might, Amanda ripped her body from the blinded Ilsa's monstrous grasp, panting and muscles screaming at her in agony. She had to escape. Regroup. Try another approach! Anything to get away and fight another day! Her body was beaten, and her catsuit was stretched and starting to get torn from her being tossed around so frequently. Her throat was sore with screaming and groaning, head was throbbing from all her deprived oxygen.
With Ilsa still fighting blind, but wiping up the last of the reactive tears as her face was twisted in more rage than pain or fatigue, Amanda cursed the broad woman's endurance. She tried to pad her chances of escape by swinging a kick at her. "Go DOWN you fat bitch!" she huffed desperately, her foot swinging up between Ilsa's thighs... and staying there, as her meaty thighs got in the way and slowed the blow a split second enough to slap shut around her leg. Amanda looked with her mouth wide open in shock and horror, realizing she was trapped on one foot with her long slender leg caught in Ilsa's beartrap of a pair of legs.
"Just what I'd expect of cowardly American cowgirl," Ilsa spat, opening her eyes up fully again to leer at her prey. Amanda's heart sank as they met eyes, the fury in the Russian's and the despair in Amanda's making it more than clear who would be walking away from this matchup.
Ilsa slammed a fist down onto Amanda's knee, getting a pained scream from her as her body tried to double up, locked in her awkward one-legged dance to stay up. Ilsa grabbed out at her standing leg, ripping it out from under her and forcing Amanda's body to obey gravity and slam backward onto the carpet, banging her shoulders and skull against the ground until she swore she could see little canaries spiral around her eyes. Still, her leg was crushed and twisted in Ilsa's snaring thighs, fat legs devouring her limb like a toothpick as her body jiggled with every twist of her figure.
"Tell me that's not all, American! Tell Ilsa you've got more fight left in you! Tell me you're not as pathetic as you look right now!" Amanda was on her back, writhing miserably and looking ready to cry from the constant agony brought on by the dominant Russian dom. "Get up!" Ilsa barked, finally parting her legs enough for her foot to fall weakly to the mat, marked with a bit of sweat from Ilsa's crevice. "Take your beating and PRETEND you are self-respecting woman!" She put a sharp stomp to Amanda's ribs and belly, making her curl up weakly.
Ilsa grabbed her hair, trying to rip Amanda to her feet as she'd demanded like her blond strands were painful puppet strings. When all Amanda did was sob, she reached her feet and collapsed the second Ilsa let go, only managing to get to her knees and stay there. She crawled on all fours backward, like a cowering dog until her back hit a wall. Ilsa marched after her, big feet and weight thundering the floors as she moved, adding to her intimidation. She grabbed Agent Pines by the throat, shoving her semi-upright against the wall as her nails traced against the skin of her neck.
"Now one more time, please." Ilsa flexed her fingers against Amanda's throat, lifting her another few inches off the ground. Her weak legs flopped like noodles in the breeze to try and get under her, but  the angle was bad enough as it was for her long legs to try and find purchase. "What are you doing here?"
Amanda's training and resistance broke almost instantly at this point, so broken and beat up now that she just wanted a chance to survive her enounter withthis Russian monster of a woman, proving herself superior to her in every way she could think of.
"I'm here on a counter-terrorism mission!" she blurted, teary-eyed and struggling for air in Ilsa's vicious grasp. "We found you were in the city and wanted to thwart you from any assassination attempts on the diplomats meeting tomorrow."
"I am not here to kill your diplomat," sneered the Russian. "Is just what I wanted you to expect." When Amanda gave her a dumb, dazed, half-lidded stare, she grinned.
"Is like I said. Ilsa just lovs to hear American girls scream. Especially your high and mighty agents." Ilsa hit Amanda's face with a loud cracking slap that rattled her head. She gave a  mighty swing of her arm to toss Amanda to the ground like a used up toy, letting her flop ragged to the ground choking and spasming. She stood over Amanda, putting her large foot down onto Amanda's neck. She gurgled and choked under the woman's superior weight, feeling Ilsa lean into it with enough force that she could her feel her brain cells sputtering as she blacked out, but only just enough to do that. Still, Amanda could register enough flexing of her calf muscles and the held back pressure that it seemed Ilsa could crush her neck as easily as an elephant at this position.
"I do not have to kill you, Yankee slut. And for now, I won't. But this is your warning. Once. If I ever run into you again. Spot you on my mission, ee you on a street, hear you in a crowd... I will find you again, and I will end you. Much worse than I did tonight. Longer, more painful, much more... final." A derisive wad of spit his Amanda's face moments before her last conscious breath. "Remember this. Stay out of my way, pigdog."


Amanda woke back up in her own hotel room. It was not hard to imagine that Ilsa had figured out where she'd come from and had an easy enough time carrying her back. There was no trace of Ilsa when she did some more reconossaince, and the diplomats at the city were indeed left alone. But whenever the Russians were involved, the once fearless Agent Pines would always find a way to back out of the mission, fearing what might befall her if a particular counter-agent was on the scene.