"Time for you to get out of the house, girl!?" Moira Conroy snapped at the young blond woman seated at the small apartment's kitchen table.  "Sure an' you've been cooped up in here these past four days now, with no sun at all.  An' didn't you yourself say that you need the energy of the sun?"

The young blond DOES need energy - any natural energy is best - to power her alien physique.  Known to these people as Kathryn Fairchild, Cai Trin of Velor is also Suprema, the (self-appointed) Planetary Protector for *this* Earth.  Thrown through a dimensional rift in an accident, she found herself on an Earth which had been conquered by Nazis, Italians and Japanese in the 1940s (with the help of Arion infiltrators).  Instead of becoming the planet's superheroine Protector, Suprema is now hunted by human and Arion forces as a terrorist.  Only the Conroys and some other members of the American Republican Army know her identity and are willing to help shield her from her powerful foes.

"Me darlin' Kevin says the ARA has information about Peter's family, macushla," Moira continues.  "Why don't you and the lad walk over to Murphy's store and see what Ian O'Brien has to say?"

"Oh, okay, Moira," the young woman says, with some reluctance.

Although she and Moira had found some used clothing a few days ago at a thrift store, Kathryn hadn't been outside the apartment since then and, in fact, hadn't changed clothes in three days, either.  Anyone observing her behavior would have seen her as a typical teenager *moping* around the house.  In fact, the young heroine was usually lost in thought about her purpose here on this strange planet.

Kathryn slowly rises up from the table as Moira yells for Peter to come to the kitchen.  As Kathryn adjusts her long skirt and bulky shirt, Peter Barlow enters the kitchen.  His parents *disappeared* a short time ago in Neuhafen (New Haven, CT) - presumably snatched by the hated German secret police (Gestapo).  He's been living with the Conroys since then, awaiting word on the fate of his mom and pop.

"C'mon Kathryn," Moira says, tossing a long cloth coat at the young blonde.  "Both of you get out of here, go down to Murphy's, see what O'Brien has for yah!"

"Any sign of that Velorian bitch, Technician?" Duk-em storms at one of his bridge crew aboard CS-1120, the Command Ship for Arion forces in the Sol system.

The young Arion Beta quakes inwardly, expecting punishment from the tempermental Alpha but, when no blow comes, manages to squeak out, "Lord, I've had all sensors scanning the New Danzig area but she hasn't appeared.  We can only detect her, Lord, when she flies, for some reason.  She has a very distinctive signature when flying."

"See that you continue your diligence, Technician," Duk-em says softly.  He places a hand on her shoulder and applies enough pressure to melt steel.  The technician, possessed of (by human standards), awesome strength herself, still winces in pain from the grip.  Duk-em releases her shoulder and slowly crosses the bridge toward another station and the technician sighs in relief.  Betas live almost like slaves under the domination of Alphas.

"Kar-lem is on the radio for you, Lord," the signals officer says to the approaching Force Commander.

"What news do you have?" Duk-em asks Kar-lem, known on Earth as Gauleitier Karl Messner, chief administrator of New Danzig (New York) for the German Reich.

"Lord," Kar-lem says over the radio, "we've had no luck locating the Velorian.  Ja-ber says his agents haven't seen her, either.  They had intelligence which led them to believe she was in a certain part of the city but they have not been able to find her since her appearance at the power plant."

"Ja-ber - he's the head of your local secret police, isn't he?" Duk-em asks, only vaguely aware of the name of the Beta who's been aggressively seeking the Velorian Protector.

"Yes, Lord," Kar-lem replies.  He would have *punished* Ja-ber days ago for the way he's conducted his investigation but Kar-lem knows that the Force Commander wants Ja-ber left alone.  But when this hunt is finished . . .

"The Beta reports that one of his human agents may have found the terrorist cell that is protecting the Protector," Kar-lem continues, a smile drifting across his harsh visage at his play on words.  "Ja-ber hopes to lure the bitch into a trap he's setting up."

"Keep me informed, Kar-lem," Duk-em replies curtly, ending the signal.  "And do not fail again," the Alpha says under his breath.

"David Smith, meet Peter Barlow and his friend, Kathryn Fairchild," Ian O'Brien says to the thin, pock-marked man in the small office under Murphy's general store.  The four are seated around O'Brien's desk.  "Peter, David here says yer ma' 'n da' are being held by the Gestapo in Neuhafen, as we suspected.  It's a just a wee office - no more than two men on duty overnight, David says.  We're trying to get together a team to break into the place.  It's going to be rough, though, because there's a Wehrmacht company in Neuhafen.  We don't have enough people to stop a whole company of soldiers, lad."

"Maybe Suprema can help free them," the young blonde says.

"What's a Suprema?," Smith asks, looking more closely at the young woman.  She's attractive, slender but a bit busty and, at 5'9", too tall for 5'6" stature.

"David, lad, I t'ank you for your information," O'Brien hastily says, rising.  Pulling Smith up by his elbow, the ARA cell leader hustles the other man out of the office.  Turning to look back at Kathryn, O'Brien says, "be right back, kids, and we can talk about this later."

A few minutes later O'Brien and Tim Feeny, another member of the *Fightin' 69th* cell of the ARA, enter the small office and take seats.  "Now, Peter, lad," O'Brien begins, "we sympathize wit' yah, but there's no way we have the force to get your folks away from those Nazi bastards!"

Tears start to well up in the teen's eyes when Kathryn again announces, "but maybe Suprema can help!"

"Now, why would you be helping this lad," Feeny begins in a harsh voice, "when a not even a week ago you wouldna' help us kick the Nazis outta the U.S.?"  Feeny has been a constant critic of the young heroine's reluctance to interfere in Earth politics, even though those politics were largely shaped by hidden Arion influence.  And she's stated that she's here to protect Earth from those Arions!

"I've been thinking that maybe I've been wrong about some things," the young woman replies, looking at Feeny.  Her slight smile and lovely face manage to soften Feeny's stony grimace.  "Maybe I can break into this jail thing and get his parents out.  I think I can knock out the Nazi guards.  Nobody has to die, and Peter gets his folks back.  All we need is your help in getting to this Neuhafen place."

"I think we can help you on that account, lass," O'Brien replies, patting the girl on her knee.  "And we'd best plan to go out tonight, before those bastards do anything to his parents.  Tim, lad, will you arrange to get these kids up to Neuhafen?"

The four people spend the next hour discussing plans to conduct the raid on the secret police building, and are joined by David Smith, who has knowledge about the layout of the building and German forces in the town.  It is early in the afternoon when the group finally breaks up, agreeing to meet at sundown for the short trip to Neuhafen.  Kathryn and Peter return to the Conroy's apartment to tell them of the plan.  Smith returns to Neuhafen to conduct a last-minute reconnaissance as O'Brien and Feeny make ready travel papers and a car to take the team out of the city.

The non-descript delivery truck stops just a block from Neuhafen's Gestapo headquarters shortly after two a.m.  Inside the truck, Kathryn Fairchild begins to remove her dress and blouse, revealing a blue, red and yellow costume.  There's a yellow and red *S* wrapped across her magnificent 38D breasts.  As Suprema, Planetary Protector of Earth, she leaves the truck, accompanied by Peter and Tim Feeny.  Wrapping an arm around each one's waist, she leaps into the air and slowly floats above the block and lands seconds later on the HQ's roof.

"Sure 'n I never believed this would happen," Feeny whispers to his companions as they land.  "Not only can you lift the two of us like we've no weight at'all, but you even FLY!" he continues, shocked.  Suprema smiles warmly as she sets the two down on the roof of the headquarters.

Gazing intently into the building, Suprema's super vision reveals to her eight people in two cells and two other men, in uniform and apparently guarding the prisoners.  None in the building have the dense cell structure associated with Arions.  "Let me enter first to knock out the guards, then you two can join me," she tells the two with her.  Without another word, she moves over to an entry way from the roof to inside the building, carefully pulls on the doorknob, and opens the door after it crumples in her powerful grip.  Moments later she flies slowly, floating, actually, down the stairs and along one corridor toward the guards' room.

Pausing briefly outside the guardroom, Suprema takes one last look through the walls and, seeing no obvious traps, suddenly bursts into the room, startling the two Germans.  In the blink of an eye, she taps each one on his chin, rendering them unconscious.  A quick search reveals some cuffs which Suprema uses to bind the two Nazis, first to each other, then to a pipe far from their desks.  Finally, she rips off their pockets and scatters the contents, in case they had hidden keys.  Finished, she returns to the stairwell and calls for Feeny and Barlow to join her.

The trio proceed to the cells and Peter gasps and cries when he sees his parents.  Both are worn, haggard, and bruised from their time in the *care* of the Gestapo.  After Suprema opens the doors to the cells releasing three women and five men, Peter and his parents hug, shedding tears over their reunion.

"We're with the ARA," Feeny declares, "and we'll get you all away from this Hell hole, if you'll just hustle along with us, now."  Feeny turns to lead them to the back door of the headquarters.

"Not just yet," one of the just-released women says, reaching for a fire alarm lever on the wall outside the cells.  She flicks the alarm switch and, apart from a low hum, nothing seems to be happening.  Suddenly one of the overhead water sprinklers begins to emit bolts of a strange energy - bolts that flash in the narrow hallway and seem to seek out Suprema.

"NnnnOOOO!" Suprema screams, hands rising to cover her breasts as the strange energy hammers at her breasts.  "St-stop it!  It's too powerful!  It . . . it HURTS!" she screams.  Sobbing, the super heroine drops to her knees in the hallway as her powerful body is battered by the strange energies.  Around her, the humans move away from the costumed woman and look warily for other threats.

Feeny and Barlow look at the stricken woman.  Minutes ago Feeny had been overwhelmed by her apparent power, now he is confused - what's happening to this amazingly powerful girl?  Instinctively, he pulls out his .45 semi-automatic pistol and points it at the woman who pulled the fire alarm switch.  "What th' Hell did you do, bitch!" he hisses.

"You'll never know, American," the woman says, backing down the hall toward the guardroom. Her hand whips behind her back and she pulls a small handgun from a holster hidden in the small of her back, under her blouse.  Before she can do anything though, Feeny's gray .45 barks twice in rapid succession and two holes appear in the woman's chest.  She's thrown back down the hall, skidding on her back, a thick blood trail tracing her path.

"C'mon," Feeny yells to the others in the hallway, "let's get her outta here!" he says, pointing at Suprema.  The heroine is know lying on the floor, one hand moving vigorously between her legs against her nether regions, the other is roughly massaging one of her breasts.  The fabric of her blue leotard top is bunched in her fist as she grinds her palm against her pert breast.  Her eyes are half closed and a low throaty moan flows from her mouth.

Before anyone can react, two of the men just released from a cell leap at Feeny and slam him against the wall, sending his gun flying from his hand.  As the three men struggle, the Nazi plants land blows on Feeny's face and stomach and drive him to his knees.  Suddenly, gunshots again roar in the narrow hallway.  Peter's dad has retrieved Feeny's pistol and expertly puts a slug in each man's back as they pound the ARA man.

"LET'S GET OUT OF HERE!" Jack Barlow says, grabbing Feeny's arm and pulling the man to his feet.  "Grab the girl," he says to the two remaining men, "drag her if you have to but let's get moving!"  Peter quickly grabs Suprema's legs just above her red boots (causing the girl to moan loudly and writhe in his grasp) as the two men grab her upper arms.  Together, they lift the struggling woman off the floor and follow Jack Barlow as he helps Feeny toward the back door.  Peter's mother and the other woman try to help support Suprema's torso by putting their hands under the stricken girl.  All of their limited strength is needed to carry the woman as she shakes and writhes in their hands.  Overhead, the strange energy bolts continue to rain down in the room.  All of the energy spikes seem to head directly at the costumed woman, each strike causing her to moan and writhe piteously.

The small party manages to break open the back door and as they shuffle along the alley toward the truck parked a block away, they can hear sirens and the sounds of heavy vehicles heading toward Gestapo headquarters.  The group makes it back to the truck, luckily escaping detection by the Nazi (and Arion Beta) force that has arrived at the headquarters.  As the secret police force scours first the building, then the surrounding streets and alleys, the non-descript delivery truck slowly drives out of Neuhafen and heads toward New Danzig.

In the back of the truck, cradled across Meg and Peter Barlow's laps, Suprema writhes and moans, her hands playing across her body, her eyes closed, her mind - elsewhere.

One way to stop a Velorian Protector is to attack her with orgone energy.  This insidious Arion invention hyper-stimulates a Protector, driving her into sensual overload.  The more energy her body absorbs, the more aroused she becomes until her mind shuts down, dedicated only to reveling in the waves of pleasure coursing through her super body.

The Arion force in the Sol system had only two orgone projectors.  They didn't see a need for them - Velorians hadn't been seen for 300 years!  Ja-ber had Arion engineers rig one of the bulky orgone projectors in the headquarters building, anticipating a visit from the Velorian thanks to David Smith's warning.  Gestapo agents were planted in the cells to ensure the capture of the Protector.  The Arions did not, however, anticipate that she would be accompanied by others who might help her escape.

Kar-lem glared at the two Beta engineers and the two (now uncuffed) human guards.  Without a thought, his heat vision suddenly flared out and burned the two humans into ashes.  "As for you two - so far I can assign no blame to you," the Alpha says to the quaking aliens. "Surveillance cameras show that the device worked as we planned.  If not for the help of the humans, we would now have the bitch.  These stupid humans, though," he says, waving his hand toward the ashes on the floor, "failed us with their ill-conceived plan to overwhelm the girl.

"However, at least we know the orgone device will disable the bitch," he says, more to himself than to the two engineers.  "Now, we need more of these projectors!  Make more, and make them smaller so we can handle them ourselves, in the field!  Dismissed!  Return to the Command Ship."

As the sun begins to rise over the city, a by-now-revived Tim Feeny and the two Barlow males help carry Suprema into an ARA safe house back in New Danzig.  The girl is barely conscious, definitely not aware of what is happening to her.  She's lost in the pleasure coursing through her body.  Feeny leaves the apartment to contact the Conroys and the ARA cell - their apartment and Murphy's store must now be known as ARA properties.  The cell has to move!  Even now, the Nazis and their alien overlords must be hunting them!

The Barlow's hover over the supine heroine as she tosses and turns on the couch in the apartment's living room.  "What should we do?" Meg asks her husband.  "This looks . . . well, obscene!"

"She's not from Earth, ma," Peter explains.  "This must be something done to her by that weapon of those Arions," he continues.  In a few moments, Peter tells his parents about the strangely-clad young girl and about the other aliens who helped the Nazis enslave most of the planet.

"MMnnnhhh!  M-must get - nnnnnhhh - get rid of this energy!" the girl moans as she slowly regains awareness of her surroundings.  "Ohhh, Rao! MAKE IT S-STOP!!" she gasps, shocking the humans with the erotic movements of her hands.  The room fills with the honey and wildflower scent of Suprema's pheromones, released by her hands' treatment of her body.  All of the Barlows stagger backward as they are overwhelmed with erotic feelings toward the costumed woman.

"Wh-what must we do?" Meg Barlow asks in a pleading voice.

"Or-orgASMMMS!" Suprema gasps.  "N-need to have lots of ORRgasms - gasp - to nnnnnhhh bleed off this damn org-uuuuuhhhnnn," she struggles to say as her body is wracked with pleasure.  "He-help me, pleaseeee!" she cries, looking up at the humans.

Jack Barlow drags his family into the kitchen of the small ARA apartment.  "Peter, what the Devil have you gotten us involved in?" he hisses.  His strong Fundamentalist Christian upbringing leaves him repulsed by the heroine's behavior - dressing in a too-tight, almost slutty costume, playing with her body, talking about, well, the *o* word!  Meg Barlow is equally aghast at the young blonde's behavior.  And poor Peter is too young to understand what the girl needs!

"Dad, yah gotta do something for her, PLEASE!"  Peter begs his dad.  "She got you outta that jail, didn't she?  Can't you help her!?"

"I don't even know this . . . this . . . whatever the Hell she is!" Jack replies.  "And as for what she asks, well, that's just not something I want to do to a stranger.  I'm not even sure I would know how to help her, Peter!"

"Can't you TRY!"

"Jack," Meg interjects, "I think we should just leave her alone.  Let the ARA deal with her.  They know who she is, maybe they can help her."

Despite Peter's strong, animated protests, the Barlows remain in the kitchen, seated at the table.  They try to ignore the moans and cries from the living room as Suprema battles her body and the orgone energy coursing through it.

Several hours later, Kevin and Moira Conroy arrive at the safe house.  Suprema is still writhing on the couch and the Barlows are still in the kitchen.  Moira rushes to the couch and drops to her knees beside the stricken heroine.  While one hand goes to Suprema's head in an attempt to soothe the woman, Moira's other hand goes to her cover her own mouth.  Moira turns to face an obviously-concerned Kevin and asks, "Sweet Jesus, what's happening to her?"

Before Kevin can respond, Peter rushes into the room, followed by his parents.  They quickly relate to the Conroys how Suprema broke into the jail, freed some prisoners, but was then attacked by some strange rays that only hit her body.  "And she says she needs, ah, how do I say this?" Jack says, "well, she needs to, ah, sexually release the energy."

"What the Hell does that mean?" Kevin asks, moving toward Jack.  "We gotta do something for her, mate.  Stop pussy-footing around and tell us what to do?"

"She wants orgasms!" Peter blurts out, wincing slightly under his mother's withering glare.

Both the Conroys recoil in shock at the lad's comments.  "How do we do that?" Moira asks, her eyes pleading with her husband for guidance.

"Well, I only know the one way," he says.  At other times, he might have smiled guiltily at what he said and thinks, but now he's serious and concerned about the young blonde's obvious agonizing pleasure.

Moira rises from Suprema's side and grasps Meg Barlow by her elbow.  The two women retreat into the kitchen while the males stand around the couch, watching the blue and red-clad girl continue to pleasure herself.  All of them harden from the girl's powerful pheromones, filling the room and arousing everyone in it.  From time to time, her body rises off the couch as she balances on her shoulders and heels and cries out, obviously experiencing a powerful orgasm.  More of her scent floods through the room

"Get out!" Moira says as she and Meg return to the living room minutes later.  "Shoo, now, all of you!  We've got women's work here!"

Alone with Suprema, the two women kneel beside the girl and begin to lay hands on the stricken girl.  Moira's hands expertly begin to work on Suprema's thigh as Meg hesitantly leans down to kiss Suprema's bright red lips.  Meg's hands grasp the back of Suprema's head to steady it as their lips touch.  Suddenly, the blonde's tongue darts out and penetrates Meg's mouth, plunging hungrily into the woman's mouth.  Shocked and revulsed, Meg tries to pull away but one of Suprema's hands has slipped behind Meg's back and pins the two together.  Meg struggles but is unable to resist either the probing tongue or the powerful grip holding her.

As one of Moira's hands slides up Suprema's creamy thigh, under her red skirt, and against the blue fabric covering her sex, Moira's other hand reaches up and envelops one of Suprema's breasts.  When Moira's fingers and thumb squeeze the engorged mound atop the plump and throbbing hemisphere and her other fingers come in contact with Suprema's sex, the blonde screams and thrusts her body upward.  A powerful burst of energy flows through the human, from the Velorian's breast toward her crotch!  As the energy spike lashes out, Moira is thrown across the room.  Her back smacks against the far wall and her body slides down the wall to form a crumpled heap on the floor.  Moira moans deeply as she tries to remain conscious.

The same energy blast strikes Meg just as her face is forced away from Suprema's by the blonde's scream.  The orgone energy hits Meg's shoulder, knocking onto her side, dazzing her.

"Mu-more!" Suprema gasps, begging the women for more help.  "Puh-please d-don't - nnnnhhh - don't stop!" she cries out.

Kevin and Jack rush into the room immediately after the outburst, each moving to help his spouse.  Each man staggers slightly as the overwhelming scent of the Velorian's sex washes over them.  They can barely stand, can barely focus on what they're doing.

"Oh, Kevin, what can we do," Moira sighs as she's helped to her feet.  "The girl nearly killed me with that . . . that thing she did!"  Moira explains how her touch seemed to cause an energy burst from the girl's body.

"I'm an engineer," Jack Barlow says, "and I think I know what's happened here."  The other humans move closer to Barlow, ignoring the stricken Suprema for the moment.  "Whatever that . . . that machine did to her back in the jail, it seems to have turned her body into something like a battery.  It seems like its burning up her own energies by causing her to give herself one, ah, one orgasm after another.  Look how exhausted she seems to be after, what, six hours of playing with herself?"

The blonde is a piteous sight.  Her costume is in disarray, her hair is wet, limp and matted across her face, mostly covering it.  Her arms continue to move across her lovely body, but with less vigor than before.  Her moans are softer and occur less often.  When she does orgasm, her body doesn't arch as high as it did a few hours earlier.

"From what she said to us, from what happened to you, missus," Barlow says, nodding his head toward Moira, "I reckon she needs have a bunch of really powerful orgasms to discharge all the energy that was pumped into her body.  When you touched her, it sounds like you closed some kind of circuit and gave her a strong orgasm.  I'm afraid that she probably needs a bunch more.  And more than just touching her on the outside, if you get my meaning.

"Thing is," Barlow continues, obviously disgusted with what he's thinking and saying, "I suspect that if she gets the kind of stimulation she needs, she's probably going to, ah, throw out energy like she did with you.  Dang it, and excuse my potty mouth, Meg, but this woman needs to be screwed hard and many times but the man who does it will probably be electrocuted doing it!"

"Pipe . . . get me - mmnnhhh - a pipe!" Suprema moans, her half-closed eyes looking up at the humans.  "Please!"

A few minutes later, Jack Barlow returns to the living room.  He carries a 3 foot length of lead pipe he found in the cellar of the apartment building.  As he hands the pipe to the blonde, he recoils in shock as she reaches between her legs, moves the blue fabric covering her sex to one side, and rams the pipe into her body.  In mere seconds, she begins pumping the pipe in and out of her body.  The humans retreat across the room, disgusted and shocked by the display.  They turn and enter the kitchen, trying to not hear the girl's moans and cries and the thumping of the couch as it bounces on the floor.  They can also hear loud bursts of . . . static? as the orgone energy flows out of her body through the pipe.

After more than an hour the noise from the living room fades away and, after fifteen or so minutes of silence, Moira and Kevin move to the living room doorway.  The couch has lost one of its legs and most of its fabric.  It's now in the middle of the room.  Suprema lies halfway off the couch, her legs are draped across the back of the sofa.  She's unconscious and is a disgusting mess - her skirt is hiked up near her breasts, her hair splayed over her face and across the rug like wet strands of spaghetti.  One hand lies on her stomach, still gripping the remains of the lead pipe - it's crushed and contorted into a six-inch lump.  Bits and pieces of lead lie around the room, as if someone dropped liquid lead on the floor and let it cool.  The air in the room is rich with the scent of honey and wildflowers.  Even in the doorway, Kevin feels himself harden in arousal as the scent enters his nose.

Moira grabs his arm and says, "Honey, let's move the poor gel into the bedroom, see if we can make her comfortable?"  She notes with some embarassment a growing wetness between her legs and wonders if it's related to what she sees or what she smells.

"This is worse than the problem she had with the gold, darlin'," her husband replies.  The wife nods her head and together the two people pick up the unconscious woman by her arms and drag her down the hall, her red boot heels dragging on the floor.

Several minutes later, after rejoining the Barlows in the kitchen, a knock on the front door is heard.  Conroy approaches the door, pulls a .38 from a holster on his belt in the small of his back, cocks the hammer, and opens the door.  Ian O'Brien and three heavily-armed ARA men quickly enter the room, closing the door behind themselves.

"Feeny told us about the raid on the jail," O'Brien begins.  "We've learned that the man who said he was David Smith was an imposter - the real Smith disappeared three days ago.  Smith must have told the imposter that we were looking for the Barlows, but how they knew we would send Suprema to rescue them - we just don't have a clue.  Maybe they sent agents to other cells, too, to flush her out of hiding?  But I think we were well and truly fucked when Kathryn slipped and mentioned Suprema in Smith's presence.  That plant must have told his Nazi masters what he heard and what we planned to do."

"So what do we do now?" Kevin asks.

"Well, first, how is the girl?" O'Brien asks.  "Tim said she was pretty messed up after the raid."

"We don't really know what they did to her, Ian," Kevin replies, "but it was as bad as, or maybe worse than when they covered her in gold."  He briefly and very vaguely describes the girl's ordeal.  "She's in the back, sound asleep.  Or maybe unconscious.  Poor kid has had a rough time of it!"

"You and Moira can stay here with her," O'Brien says, "and we'll get the Barlows out of here.  We need to find out why they were picked up before we send them out on the *underground railroad*.  Our whole team has moved, out of Murphy's store and into Troy's pub.  Murphy's was raided early this morning, just minutes after we pulled out of it.  The bastards killed him and his staff and trashed the place.

"Your young friend has made things very hot for us, Kevin, Moira," O'Brien concludes.  "I think we need to get her out of here, and make sure those Nazi bastards know that she's left us.  We're getting too much pressure from the Gestapo, and that's not good for our regular activities!  I'll be back in a few hours, after we get the Barlows settled elsewhere.  Figure out what we can do about Suprema.

"I think we've discharged our obligation to help her," O'Brien says soberly, lowering his eyes.  "Especially since she isn't inclined to be helping us, now."

"Wh-where am I?" the young blond Protector asks, her mouth feeling like it's filled with cotton.  She's standing in the doorway to the kitchen, looking at Kevin and Moira Conroy, who are seated at the table.  Suprema is still in her blue, red and yellow costume but she looks disheveled and in pain - her hair hangs in matted clumps and her eyes seem to be puffy and swollen.  Her once-neat costume is stained by sweat and other bodily fluids and her cape is missing.  Her once-magnificent 38D breasts now seem to be little more than 32Bs, causing the front of her blue leotard to almost sag over her chest.

Both humans leap to their feet and rush to her side.  Moira gently wraps Suprema's arm in her own and ushers the girl to a seat at the table.

"How yah feelin', girl?" Kevin asks the Protector.  "You've had sixteen hours of sleep, you have.  Are yah feeling any better?"

"No," Suprema replies, sighing, "not really.  There's still a lot of that orgone energy inside me.  It's been eating at my energy all night, I guess, draining me, making me weaker.  I'm having a hard time staying awake.  I learned about the stuff back at school but I had no idea it was so powerful!"

"What can you do about it," Moira asks, reaching across the table to grasp Suprema's two hands into her own.  "Anything we can do to help you?"

"Unless I have a lot of intense intercourse with someone," the young woman replies, "it's going to take a week or more for the energy to fade from my system.  Until it does, I'm going to be not much stronger than a human.  And if I try to *recharge* my powers," she continues, looking down at her deflated breasts, the reservoirs of her power, "the orgone energy left in me will just siphon it off and keep me weak and aroused."

The two humans continue talking with the alien woman, trying to commiserate with her problem but not entirely able to help her.  They broach the subject of Suprema *disappearing* for a while, to protect the cell, but nothing definite is resolved.

After an hour or so, Suprema accepts Moira's suggestion to go for a walk.  She wearily and slowly rises from the table and walks stiffly off toward the bedroom.  A few minutes later she reappears in the kitchen doorway, dressed in a long brown skirt and a plaid shirt, her hair tucked under a black beret atop her head.  She slips into a long gray cloth coat, groaning as she stretches her arms to fit into the sleeves.

"Would you like some company, lass?" Kevin asks brightly.

"Thanks, no," Suprema, in her Kathryn Fairchild disguise replies, "but I won't be gone long.  I just need to think about what I can do to get rid of this stuff inside me."

A light snowfall blankets the city, muffling sounds, as a solitary figure walks along a sidwalk on the upper east side.  Her cap and shoulders are covered with white, and one can barely see her red boots in the deep white mess around her feet.  Although 2001 has just begun on this world, Kathryn Fairchild, the Velorian Protector named Cai Trin, notices only that this version of New York is a far cry from the sunny Los Angeles she expected to be in.

Here less than three weeks and she's already had several almost-deadly confrontations with Arions.  Her potential allies seem to be disappearing, too.  First a Haitin witch doctor was fried by an Arion's heat vision.  Then she somehow was betrayed by, and cut off from Warrior Maidens of Themyscira.  And now her *oldest* allies, the American Republican Army, no longer want her around.

"Maybe I should just go back to California, or whatever it's now called.  Maybe I can find someone out there who will help me," the girl reasons.  "I'm sure I won't have to deal with Arions as often as I have back here!"

Kathryn suddenly notices that she has company.  A pair of large men have moved close to her as she walks in a reverie.  She's now flanked by them and a quick look around shows two more men walking behind her.

"Bit chilly out here tonight, isn't it girlie?" one man asks Kathryn, moving close enough to bump her with his body.  "Whyn'tcha come with us, honey?  Maybe we can find a way to warm up?"  Just as the Nazis have crushed the spirit of most Americans, some try to pass the pressure they feel onto others.  Some prey on their compatriots just as Nazis prey on them.  And the ones on the bottom, the weak and defenseless (in fact or in appearance) are the ones who suffer the most.

Kathryn turns her head toward the man and is brusquely seized by the man on the other side.  Quickly and expertly he grabs her arms and pins them behind her back in a powerful arm lock.  Cruelly he bends each at the elbow, moving her hands up toward the back of her head.  As she gasps in surprise at his action, the other man steps forward and places on hand on her hip.

"Keep quiet, don't fight us, and this'll be all over real soon," he says, his fetid breath washing across the young woman's face.  He puts his other hand on her hip and slides both hands behind her back and down across her buttocks to lift her legs off the ground.  The two other men move up to shield this action.

"Rao help me," Kathryn thinks to herself.  "I should be able to crush these men with one finger but now I'm still too wasted by that orgone energy to fight back!"

As the men hustle into an alleyway, Kathryn starts to become aroused by the feel of their rough hands on her sensitive body.  The hands on her butt seem to send tingles of excitement through her loins.  Before the men are all in the alleyway, Kathryn is shocked when she senses that she's already wet between her legs from the orgone-fueled excitation of her body.

"Please . . . don't do this!" she pleads.  The men laugh quietly in her face.  The five pass through a doorway and enter a small room - the office for an auto repair shop, apparently.  The contents atop a desk are shoved to the floor and Kathryn is roughly deposited onto the desk, her legs from her thighs down hanging off the desk but supported by the man's firm grasp.

She struggles weakly but her legs and arms are pinned and she's unable to prevent the last two men from undoing her coat and shirt buttons.  As they peel back her blouse and rip open her skirt, the costume of Suprema appears before their eyes.

"Hey, Bill, getta loada this!" Mike says, displaying Suprema's costume.  "Ever seen underwear like this?"

The girl's beret falls off her head and her blond tresses cascade down as she struggles to free herself.  She can feel her strength returning but realizes that if she starts to get too aroused, the orgone energy will weaken her again.  She tries to calm herself, to drive out of her mind the sensations that are flooding her taut body.

"Mike, you ever listen to that Harvey Paulson guy?" one of the other thugs asks.  "Didn't he say there was some female terrorist in fancy dress that the Gestapo wanted?"

"Yeah, Ken," Bill interjected, "and I think this must be that bitch they want.  Whaddaya say, sweets?  Wanna go downtown?"

"Nnnooo!" Suprema cries, suddenly shaken from her concentration.  Again she tries to free her arms but as she begins to flex her biceps, Mike reaches down and cruelly grasps her severely-shrunken breasts and squeezes them.  "MMMnnnnnhhhh - n-nnnOOOO!" she moans as massive shocks flood through her system, battering her brain.  Her chin falls to her chest as she bites down, hoping to stop the orgasm building within her.  The orgone energy is again sapping her will and weakening her ability to resist these strong men.

"Let's do her, then drop her off with the Gestapo," Mike suggests.  "Not much here, though," he observes as he manhandles her shrunken breasts.  "Not much more than a little girl's titties.  Damned if she doesn't like to have them squeezed, though," he says, watching the girl twist and buck under his hands.  Her moans seem to spur him to even harsher treatment of her tiny tender mounds.

"I - I can't get this damned fabric away from her pussy!" Bill mutters.  He's tried repeatedly to force a way into the girl but the bottom of her leotard is too tight to move and impossible to penetrate.  "Take that damned suit off'n her so I can get in here!" he commands.  For a few moments, Mike and Ken, the men on either side of Suprema struggle with the neckline of her leotard, trying to pull it down.  Not only do they fail, they can't even get their fingers inside her leotard.  The fabric seems to be unstretchable.  Mike even fails to cut the top with a knife.

"Lemme try," booms Red, the man who has been holding her arms pinned high up behind her back.  He releases the girl's wrists and moves to her side.  Before one of the others can even think about Red's actions, Suprema realizes that her arms are now free.  She quickly reaches out with each hand and deftly grabs Red and Ken by the private parts.  She squeezes.  With the strength of maybe 10 men like those who now hold her.

Red and Ken drop like sacks, holding their groins and squealing in pain.  Before Bill and Mike can react, Suprema sits upright, her eyes still glassy from the orgone energy coursing through her body in response to the molestation she's experienced.  Her left fist lashes out to one side and nails Mike on his chin, throwing him back across the room and into a wall.  She snaps her legs like a whip and watches Bill sail backward into another wall.

The room seems to spin around her as Suprema tries to stifle the sensations wracking her body.  "Gotta . . . gotta get out of here," she pants, struggling to rise to her feet.  She sways slightly and presses her knees together as a weak orgasm ripples through her mind.  Only a hand on the desk keeps her upright.  Slowly, almost painfully, the girl turns and leaves the dingy office.  She staggers up the alleyway and is back on the sidewalk as the first of the men starts to recover.

"Go get the bitch!" Bill moans, holding his broken left arm with his right.  Mike tries to rise but can't stay on his feet without the support of the wall.  He slowly sags back to the ground.  Red and Ken are still out of the fight due to their crushed genitals.

"Are you sure you have to leave, darlin'?" Kevin Conroy asks the blond goddess before him.

"Yes, I think it's for the best," Suprema replies.  She's spent the last day and a half *recharging* herself.  A Haitian witch doctor taught her how to *tap into* natural energies all around her.  Suprema was surprised to learn that she could still do this, although not as effectively as when the Haitian helped her.  Nonetheless, she was able to gather some energy into her body.

And when the Conroy's weren't around, she was able to *discharge* the orgone energy.  Repeatedly.  Almost painfully, but completely, she assumed.  She would have preferred to have a real man assist her, but Suprema knew that no one on this planet except one of the detestable Arion Primes would be able to fully satisfy her.  For the time being, her hand and long tubular objects were her best methods to shed orgone energy.

"I'm going to fly out to what used to be California," Suprema says.  "Maybe I can escape the Arions for a while, get my bearings, and figure out what I'm going to do on this crazy world," she says, leaning over to kiss Moira's cheek.

"We'll be here, machushla," Moira says with a tear in her eye.  Suprema busses Kevin's cheek and turns to open the door.

Saying nothing, the Protector walks out of the apartment and leaps into the air.  Still severely drained by the orgone, she slowly heads westward in the early evening sky.  A single tear is quickly blown off her cheek as she flies toward the setting sun.