Photomanips by Piston Thorn. Caption by Mr. K.

1.

                For the third time that night, he strangled me. This time is was more precise and more clinically brutal than the other ways he had mastered me that night. It was from behind, again, with him on my back; it was important to him, still, that I felt his weight on my body and the massive swelling of his cock against my ass. This time was different, though.

                The first time he strangled me, he used my nylons. He used the smoke-grey nylon pantyhose that he found in my top, left drawer. It was midnight, exactly, when I was slipping through the bedroom window of my apartment. I was in my Gold persona. I had just spent the evening defeating and rounding up the costumed bandits that called themselves The Skeleton Crew. Now, at midnight, I was coming back my life as Tracey.

                I was ready to channel my golden liquid costume back into its bottle, take a shower, and put myself to sleep. My costumed, stocking feet, touch the carpet of my bedroom, and I breathed in the musk of a man. In split seconds, a whole narrative played itself out for me: Whoever this was, he knew my secret identity. He watched me, knew I was out being Gold, and snuck in to wait for me. He took a pair of my pantyhose from my dresser, some of the clothing that I wore in my civilian life, and he waited. He could have used anything, but he wanted to use something intimate. He wanted me to know that he knew and that I would never be safe again.

                That first time that he defeated me, I smelled the musk of a man, I felt movement in the air behind me, and my windpipe was suddenly squeezed shut. There were powerful hands twisting something around my throat, choking me, arching me backwards. The man doing, I could easily tell, was taller than my six-foot height.

                And I was powerless.

                My magic was still there, but I couldn’t harness it. My physical strength was still there, but I couldn’t use it.

                “Helpless, right,” he growled. My apartment was dark, but the few streaks of moonlight that beamed through allowed me to see us in the full-length mirror of my bedroom. He was a few inches taller than I, and broader as well. His massive chest and wide shoulders ( I could only see him as shadow, still) seemed to form a wall behind me. I could see my body, just as long and muscular as ever, but helpless. My arms were just as sculpted, but they sagged limply at my sides. Every effort to lift them was met by numb, stiff, powerlessness.

                I tried to conjure a golden energy blast. There was nothing.

                There was the strict band of nylon twisted around my throat. There were my lips pursed and my mouth gaping open. There were my eye watering, starting to squint, and fade.

                “No magic, no super strength, Gold. Or, shall I say Tracey?”

                He used the nylon garotte to swing me hard enough to make my breasts bob and sway.

                “Shhhhhhh … You need to just go to sleep. Go to sleep, and when you wake up, you will be in whole new world.” sic

                My tongue was spastically lurching forward, my blood pounding in my head. With my magic and super strength drained from me, I was simply a tall, blonde woman being choked into unconsciousness.

                Weakness flowed through me, and darkness closed in.

                “My world,” he laughed as I black out.

                I awoke on the floor of my apartment. It was an hour later, he was gone, and my pantyhose were still twined around my throat. He could have finished me off once my long body went limp in his arms. Instead, he left me with my pantyhose as a collar around my throat. They were secure, but loose enough for me to still breathe.

                As I slowly pulled myself up from the floor, muscles aching, I realized there was something wedged between my lips. My mouth was dry and rife with the alkaline taste that choking brings about but, I pulled myself up and tried to snake my tongue out, I realized that there a dry, sharp-cornered shape between my lips. He left a business card shoved in my mouth.

                I plucked it from my lips and let it rest in my golden palm. It was a business card. It was a name, an officer number, and an invitation to his den. This man who simply walked into my secret identity life and strangled me into unconsciousness not only knew who I was, but wanted me to know exactly who he was. He was inviting me over. With my powers and strength returned, I slowly took myself to the open window and stretched out. There was little I could do but go out to find him.

                I flew there, and I crashed through the window of his corporate office. I wasn’t sure what power he had used to overcome me, but I knew that I had to face him again. It was still dark, and there was his silhouette in the only lit office.

                The second time he strangled me was in his high-rise office.

                Just as he planned. It wasn’t much of a fight. I understood, now, as he stood and faced me, that it was his pheromones that made me helpless. After I  crashed through his window, and stood facing him, I was suddenly wash in that masculine scent again. 

                “You get it now, right?” he laughed in a sonorous, deep voice.  “I shut down your nervous system each time. You become helpless.”

                As he stood up from behind his desk, I felt my body betray me again. This time, he stood in front of me and looked me up and down. His eyes lingered on my large breasts, my hips, my thighs.

                “I know how it works,” he laughed. He pressed his palm against the relief of my abs. His hand was inverted, the fingertips pointing down. Slowly, he slid the palm down the slick sheath of my costume.

                “I know how it works. When you powers are engaged, this golden gloss is impenetrable and your powers are immense. When the power is shut down, your basically a woman in gold paint, maybe a golden skinsuit at best.”

                He continued his palm down. His fingertips slowly edged towards my mound. 

                “When your powers are there, they protect you,” he began. “When they are gone, I can do this.” He curled his fingers up and in and up some more, finding my lips. He smiled and my eyes widened as he pushed his index and middle fingers into me. There was the wet, sopping sound of my sex almost sucking at his fingers.

                He felt my body stiffen and shudder.

                “Come here, slut.”

                I curled my lips and released a groan as he tugged, and pulled. He walked to the shattered vestiges of the window. Crisp autumn wind was blowing in and I felt it tickle me as he dragged me by my cunt. He pulled, and I followed, until we stood by the window.

                “There we go,” he laughed.

                His fingers were suddenly out of my sex, and both hands were at my throat. He spun me around so that my back was at the window. Again, with massive force against my entranced body, he pushed me back and arched me in the window frame. With my head and shoulders hanging out over the city, he began crushing my windpipe with two brutal hands.

                I could feel the burning in my lungs and the throbbing in my head as my body struggled for air. He leaned in, smiling as, again my mouth hung open in a silent howl and my eyes faded to black.

 

2.

                When I finally lured her to the beach, I used my cord. I did as I was supposed to: Do one strangulation with a household object. Use your hands for one. Use the proper cord.

                As I twisted and pulled, her eyes took on that distance, empty stare. I had seen it hundred times before. I had seen it in the dead of one nameless battlefield after another. Now, I finally saw it creep into the eyes and the strong Nordic features of the woman in gold. I had defeated Gold with my third strangulation of the night.

                “Good,” said my mentor.

                She wasn’t dead. Gold was not dead. She was unconscious, strangled, and helpless on the sand of that deserted beach.

                “You did everything perfectly.”

                He had watched from the shadows as I made myself invisible, slipped in silently and low. I had paused, watching Gold search for me in the moonlight of that empty and desolate beach. She was the last portion of my testing process, and I felt as though I had been handed a gift. She was a full six feet tall, but not spindly as some very tall women are. Her breasts were large, and her limbs had the thickly feminine muscle of a fitness competitor. I remember looking at that silhouette and thinking how I wished I had the power to freeze her, just so I could marvel at the high, wide curves of her big breasts and the powerful thickness of her thighs.

                Her blond hair cascaded as she turned, and I swept in behind her. You would have thought that at my moment of truth I would have been nervous, but I felt as smooth as a whisper. I had already defeated her twice and now was the final piece.

                I had learned to use stealth, and it worked. The tall beauty in the golden skin sheath never sensed me, even for a moment. I flung the garrote, my Punjab lasso, just as I’d been taught to.

                Weighted on one end with a coin in a knot, its weight carried it through the air and wrapped it around her tender neck. There was a beautiful synergy as I pulled and twisted the cloth, closing the airway of the lush, blond heroine. I felt her long body tense, as her hands reached helplessly for my strangling cloth. She arched, pressing those high, firm breasts up in the chilly night. Now, long, muscular legs were stretched out and her body was displayed as consciousness left her.

                I pressed my swelling against the firm curve of her ass. I inhaled her thick, blond tea tree hair. I felt the slick, silk-like texture of her golden skin sheath. I smiled as her strangled chirping sounds died away, and her long, fit body went limp.

                I lowered her to the ground.

                My mentor knelt by my side.

                “Her eyes are open and she’s out.”

                We both slid our hands along her body, cupping our rough assassins’ hands on those perfect breasts.

                “You passed,” he said. “You captured Gold. You strangled her. You are a Thugee now.”