The Adventures Of Ben Her free porn video

Benjamin Blount sat in the back of his freshman history class scribbling in his notebook as the teacher spoke. He did this to keep from looking as Miss Mathews. Miss Mathews was smart, pretty, and caring and had a really nice voice and looking at her made him get an erection. Not that he could do much to avoid that. Ben was a fourteen-year-old boy and just waking up in the morning gave him raging wood. It really sucked being a teenager. The good thing was that Ben was actually very interested in what she was saying as she talked about the Union army's siege of the southern city of Vicksburg during the American war between the states. He loved history. All those different times and people and places and events. Ben loved science fiction for the same reason. Stories of adventure and heroism and excitement, stories of bad people getting the royal crap kicked out of them by the Good Guys. It beat the crap out of reality. In reality, Benjamin Blount was an average looking kid with brown hair green eyes a slight pimple problem and parents that treated him as if he were some kind of career criminal. Dad was always telling him to do chores and mom was always reading some scare story about something kids did in another city and then acting as if Ben was going to run right out to do drugs or shoot up a schoolyard or rob old ladies and little kids. She had no sense of proportion or perspective. Ben was on the Rexford Tugwell honor roll and had never in his life even so much as shop lifted a candy bar. Ben unfailing did as he was told, achieved a solid 3.9 to 4.0 grade average and never got into anything that even whiffed of trouble. His parents unfailingly presumed him to be a lying stealing shiftless heel that needed to be minded and watched all the time simply because he was a teenager. It angered Ben, but never to the point of actually doing anything about it. Nothing EVER angered Ben to the point of doing anything about it. He just endured it, picked himself back up, and did the best he could to get through what passed for his life. Instead, Ben studied hard, went to class, did his chores, and read and watched science fiction stories. Being a fourteen year old boy in good health, Ben also masturbated at least four to five times a week, privacy permitting. On some days, he was good for two sessions in one day. Ben was dropping his report on the New York and Chicago draft riots on Miss Mathews' desk and walking out of class when a tall wide beefy young man sideswiped him into the doorjamb with a dismissive, "Watch it, queer." Ben did not really worry about it; instead, he checked himself for major injury and went to his next class without complaint. That was what he did every day. Ben lived with the bullying, the injustices, and the little and not so little indignities, because he knew, or at least thought that it was the nature of the system. Benjamin never plotted revenge. He never entertained vindictive fantasies and he never reported any of it to the school authorities because he assumed that either they would do nothing, and he would gain a reputation as a crybaby, or they would only make it worse. At least they did not strip him naked and steal his clothes any more. They stopped doing that when he asked Biff Larchmont, "Are you so desperate to drool over my body that you have to do this to gain fantasy fodder?" The beating he got nearly put him in the hospital and both Ben and Biff were suspended for fighting. That was how it worked. They did not want to show favoritism so when a bigger boy beat the crap out of a smaller boy, BOTH were punished for Fighting. Ben once likened it to imposing sanctions against Poland in September of 1939. The entire system was inequitable, unfair, and badly skewed in favor of those already in power. In this way, it bore a shocking semblance to real life. Ben's operational plan was as follows. Get through the next three years, buckle down, nut up, and do what he had to do to make his parole date in 2014. Until then, Ben did what he had to do and took his joy where he could, and above all Benjamin Blount kept his head down and avoided notice as much as he could. That evening, after school, Ben went home ate his supper, did his homework and then looked through his telescope up at the stars. Thinking about worlds and life and civilizations far, far away from Clarendon Indiana. That was why he was able to see the shooting star arcing into the upper atmosphere. It was actually quite a shock to see the object enlarge in view and, rather than burning out, it impacted in Devareax woods outside of town. Ben dressed in hiking boots, jacket, backpack, and binoculars and climbed out his bedroom window and on his bike. Then in the next hour, he was biking for all he was worth toward the landfall site of that meteorite. Caution, discretion, measured responsible patience? Screw that, Ben thought, 'I need to get out there before the Air Force scoops it up and makes as if it never happened'. Two hours later, Benjamin reached the landfall crater. The object was coated in what seemed to be a charred crust of dust and dirt, but under that, it was clearly artificial. Ben immediately thought it was a satellite launched by a terrestrial nation that fell to Earth when its orbit decayed. The first thought he had was of reward money for turning it in. That was until the energy beam lanced out from the large round orb and speared Ben Blount right through the chest and it felt like it was burning him to a cinder. Ben Blount found himself in the midst of a fever dream filled with grand battles and space fleets and valiant heroes battling terrible villains for the sake of the survival of planet Earth. He felt as if he had great powers, power over machines, powers of speed and strength and agility. In other words, the textbook wish fulfillment fantasy of a Sci Fi and Comic book geek. When Ben woke up, he felt cold, cold, and dirty. He was covered in ash and his body felt sore and raw. This was bad enough but what was worse, he felt wrong, out of place, almost misshapen. As if it wasn't his body any more. Looking down at himself he saw why. Breasts. Rather large ones. A smooth athletic abdomen, a tapering almost sculpted waist widening gently into well shaped hips and a perfectly formed feminine pelvic region that finished in perfect legs and a pubic mound frighteningly devoid of either penis or testicles. The ash covering the naked female form was almost certainly the burned remains of his clothing. That was the good news. The bad news was the Air Force. They finally woke up and their helicopters were on the way. Ben did the first thing to pop into his head, (Her head?) (S)he ran. Ben ran as fast as the new legs and feet would carry him/her. That turned out to be faster than Ben had ever run. Benjamin Blount ran, not knowing in what direction or where to go, all (S)he knew was that (S)he had to avoid the authorities if (S)he didn't want to end up as a dissected laboratory animal. When the startled, frightened transformed youth finally stopped running, she was standing on a street corner near the Clarendon merchant's bank, still naked and dirty. By this time the streets of the small town had rolled up and only the occasional police car or night errand runner broke the emptiness. Benjamin was awash in confusion and hunger and tiredness, but s/he was clear headed enough to realize that this was real s/he was physically an adult human female. Ben fell back on an old maxim 'be where, what and who you are, and do what you must do.' That settled she hid in the ATM alcove as a police cruiser passed, hoping to conceal her nudity. When 'five-oh' passed without incident, she looked at the Automatic teller Machine. That machine had money, and Ben needed it. Ben closed her eyes, put both hands on the front of the machine and thought. It was almost as if she could see inside the machine. The controls and commands were right in front of her mind's eye. Ben told the camera to turn off. It did so. Then she told it to activate it's vending operation. The machine began dispensing twenty-dollar bills in groups of five at a time and they started to pile at her feet. This startled her into taking her hands off the front casing. When she did, the money stopped coming. Ben bent down and scooped the money up in both hands. Then she looked around and ran as fast as she could into the alley. A naked woman with over seven hundred dollars in cash in her hands was bound to draw attention. Ben needed to get indoors fast. She needed to get warm, get clothed, fed, and then probably get some sleep. If she had, had the bad fortune to live in a less socially advanced, less enlightened era, Ben would have been in a truly bad way. Not so for the early 21st century. Ben took a cardboard box for a plasma T.V. and used it as a makeshift piece of clothing, then she walked to Clarendon's Wal- Mart super center, witch was the only store open all night. The greeter was an old man who blinked at her in surprise and shock until she said apologetically, "Prank recovery, my friends are jerks." The old fellow nodded sagely and let her enter. Ben took a cart and made her way to the ladies clothing section barefoot wearing nothing but the box suspended from her shoulders with the nylon cord found In the same dumpster as the box. Then she took a package of panties, a bra, Jeans shoes woman's socks and a T-shirt to the dressing room. She had to guess on sizes but guessed right and the only real problem was the bra. It turned out to be a tad snug. The final items were a jacket a purse and a lady's wallet. Ben saved every tag and price marker and presented them at the register by way of explanation. The store manager watched Ben pay then smiled and apologized for following her around the store. Ben was glad she was paying cash. Ben Blount was about to leave when she circled back bought a more comfortable bra with a bigger cup size and then left the store having spent a total of $97.45 The next stop was the Best Western on the edge of the hamlet she called home. Ben walked down the deserted street lost in thought when a gun appeared in her view. Before the assailant could open his mouth Ben swept the gun from his hand, broke his arm kicked his legs out from under him and rendered him unconscious via a leg kick to the left temple. Then, realizing what she had just done, Ben ran the rest of the way to the hotel room checked in without ID with a $200.00 bribe to the desk clerk and went to her room. Ben just sat on the edge of the bed and shook for several minutes. Then she had to run from the bed to the bathroom to throw up. Ben heard and felt the impact of her foot on that man's head and knew she had killed him. Ben disrobed, got in the shower, and let the water flow over her body while she commenced to have a long overdue freak-out. She could not help talking to herself during said freak-out. "Oh, god, oh, oh, oh Christ, oh, fucking-Jesus-tap-dancing Christ, What am I going to do? I'm a woman, that thing turned me into a woman that damned thing turned me into a fucking killer bimbo from outer space, oh mother fucking Jesus, what the fuck am I supposed to do, I can't go home, not like this. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Present body maturity notwithstanding, Benjamin Blount was a fourteen year old who had lost the most fundamental part of his identity and, at the same time lost his home, his family and the entire life he knew. While it was true that it had been kind of a crappy life, it was still a life. Benjamin Blount cried. She cried for the parents she could never see again. Ben cried for the friends she had that were now lost to her. She cried for the struggles that were now ahead of her as well, but strangely, she did NOT cry for her lost masculine gender. That brought Ben up short as she realized that, when she really stopped to think, she was NOT particularly broken up about not being a male anymore. Ben had liked looking at naked women, but strangely, a part of him had liked looking at other naked males. Most times Ben's masturbatory fantasies were of naked women but sometimes when he masturbated, he thought about naked men. Not often, but sometimes. Ben had never been particularly vehemently "MALE" and he always laughed at guys who acted as if their penises were the be-all and end-all of the identities. Finally, at the last, Benjamin Blount cried for the man she had killed. He had been on the ground, disarmed and out of the fight. He was no longer a threat. Why had she delivered a killing blow? Ben thought about that and unwrapped the bar of hotel soap. Then she lathered up the washcloth and started using it to scrub herself. Normally, or more correctly previously, when Ben showered, there was about fifteen to twenty minutes of utilitarian scrubbing followed by a hard fast wank. Then a rinse and Ben was done. This time the body responded in a powerful and very sensual way to what Ben's hands were doing. Scrubbing felt good, very good, the soap the hot water, her own hands on her skin. Ben's skin flushed and seemed to warm up and Ben's hands migrated to breasts, hips buttocks and vulva. This was the first time Ben had really taken the chance to explore the new shape and what greeted her was the most incredible sexual experience of her life. The warm, hot sensual incredibly erotic feelings Ben was having were so good and so overwhelming that she kept at herself. Ben ended up masturbating herself to a series of orgasms far stronger than she had ever felt. When she finished, she rinsed off, dried off and put on the hotel robe. Then she went into the main room and dressed in a fresh pair of panties (pack of three) and the T- Shirt from before the shower. After that, Ben crawled under the covers and fell asleep as if she had been sedated. Ben had a nightmare of wandering lost through a blasted ruined hellscape of fire, soot ash, and death. Bodies were everywhere, and the stink of cooked flesh hung in the air. This was not a movie for the ruins were recognizably that of Clarendon and some of the dead were people she knew. When she reached the ruins of his house, her parents were dead and it looked as if her father had been emasculated. Ben screamed awake and then ran to dry heave into the toilet. Afterward she gained control of herself, and walked back into the main room. Ben was hungry, almost painfully so and she felt weak, almost as if she might fall over. She dressed in the same jeans, shirt, and jacket she wore last night by dint of the fact that it was all the clothes she owned, and then went to the Flying J truck stop diner for breakfast. Ben ate. She ate more in one sitting than she ever had as a male. A big breakfast of chicken fried steak, hash browns, two eggs, toast and link sausage, with an extra side of biscuits and gravy. And a cinnamon roll with glass after glass of orange juice. The whole meal plus tip ran her 25 dollars. Ben then had to return to the Wal-Mart for more jeans, more T-shirts, more underthings, and other sundries. That cost a further $250.00 Ben was going to need more money, and soon. Living on one's own and having to pay one's own way in the world was turning out to be an expensive proposition. That afternoon, Ben took the bus across town to a Bank of America location and emptied their bank teller machine into a gym bag she bought at Wal-mart that afternoon. Then she willed the machine to slag it's own electronics and thereby explain the extreme malfunction. She cleared twenty grand, from that. That let her buy the nicest and most expensive laptop and remote cellular Wi Fi connection the store had. That night Ben hacked into the national database and started in on the hackwork to build a new identity. It was actually a lot easier to do this than Ben thought it would be, or should be to create, Beatrice Banner, age, 25 Then Ben thought, it would be. She ordered her Driver's license, birth certificate and all other relevant documents sent to the Hotel address. Then she logged off and immediately felt weak, faint, and painfully hungry. After another mega feast, this time at the Hardee's Ben felt better. Not good but better. The conclusion was inescapable. Using this body's special powers cost. It cost energy, calories. She would have to eat, and apparently eat high fat, high sugar high carbohydrates, just to keep her power usage from starting to feed off her own body. The other minor detail was the repeated and consistent dreams of calamity and disaster befalling Clarendon and, by extension, the rest of the country and possibly the world. The warnings, for that was what they obviously were had probably been preprogrammed into the body she now wore, kind of like firmware that comes with a new computer. Something bad was coming and someone else knew about it. Ben's current body and it's powers were probably some kind of biological weapon intended for use by the people of Earth. The only question was, why her, she had been just some high school kid, just some Portnoy. What was she supposed to do now? Ben thought hard about that and came up with a nice tidy answer. She needed to find out what this body could do, what was it capable of? Ben stood up and walked out of the fast food restaurant. When she reached the sidewalk, she did something that at the time seemed the best thing to try to do. Ben Blount jumped as hard as she could straight up into the air. Ben shot into the sky at a speed that scared the daylights out of her and by the time she gained control of her willy-nilly flight, she was hurtling past a jetliner and had to bank hard to the right to keep from slamming into it. Ben then spent the next twenty-five minutes careening crazily around the sky trying to get control of her flight and not lose too much altitude too quickly. Ben did not know it, but for most of her semi-controlled flight, she had been headed northeast. By the time Ben stopped, she was in the sky over Manhattan Island and dropping like a stone. Ben slammed straight into the roof of a medium sized skyscraper and shook her head in confusion. She seemed to be all right at least physically, but her clothes were shredded. The wind at high speed and in high altitude had really done a number on them and the face plant into the roof finished the job. Ben would not find out until much later that she had been traveling at Mach two. The U.S. Air Force was now investigating the human sized object that careened across the sky towards and then dropped off the radar over New York. Ben stood up a bit shakily from the pit of rubble and roofing material and shook the gravel and tarpaper and other detritus off her body before staggering toward the edge of the building. Walking toward the edge, Ben picked the tatters of cloth off herself and looked down. She seemed to be thirty stories above 57th avenue near central park west, but she could not be sure. This was not good. For one thing how was a naked woman going to get down from the roof of this building, for another, what in the world else could she do? Finally, Ben walked around the edge of the artificial crater in the roof walked over to the roof access door and tried to open it. It stuck a bit, but after she gave it a good yank, it came open. Walking though the door, Ben realized, it had not been stuck it had been locked. She looked at the splintered pieces of the doorjamb and thought to herself, {I hope nobody notices.} Ben was oblivious to the reality that, in her current state of undress, no passerby was going to be looking at the doorjamb. Regardless of that, Ben knew she needed clothes, she could hardly walk around the Big Apple in her current state as streaking had most defiantly gone out of style. Ben was just peeking out of a stairwell door to see if the coast was clear, when she suddenly felt faint. The last thought she had was the power usage curve she had calculated in relation to her headlong flight and the crash into the building's roof. The system needed energy and in lieu of that was going into standby mode. Blackout. Ben woke up much later in a hospital bed, but she was not in any hospital she had ever seen. In addition, she was handcuffed to the bed by both hands and there was a glucose drip in her left arm. There were two heavily armed female Air Force goons in the room guarding the door. They both gazed at Ben without comment or emotion. This was not good. Twenty minutes after she regained consciousness, an older man in a U.S. Air Force class A uniform entered. He had a nice collection of fiddly bits on his uniform and a set of silver eagles on his shoulders. Ben used her keen deductive mind and said, "Hello, Colonel Dyson." The Air Force officer was actually taken aback for a moment until he realized his Colonel's eagles and nameplate were rather prominent. He was simply not used to people taking direct notice of them upon seeing him. "You have me at a disadvantage, miss,..." "Blount, Call me Ben" "That is a rather odd name for an attractive woman who can fly and has other impressive powers, isn't it?" "It would be, if I had not been a teenaged boy, before I found that space doohickey near my home town of Clarendon." "The Clarendon object, you found it and it did, this,...to you?" "Yes sir one instant super hero gender bender served up all in my face." "I see, you realize we can check your story and if it doesn't pan out, you go into the deepest darkest hole I can find and you get the door welded shut on top of you." Ben flexed her arms and tested the cuffs holding her to the bed. Then she pulled hard on both arms inward. This action snapped the hinges on the cuffs and left her free to climb out of the bed, then Ben pulled the syringe from her arm and surged forward, grabbing Colonel Dyson by his torso and lifting him up off the ground. When the two female Air Police pointed their pistols at her, she told them. "You open fire in here and all that happens is you shoot Colonel goofus to hamburger, but hey, It's your thing, so do what you want to do." The two women looked at each other, and then looked at the Colonel. Colonel Dyson told them, "Stand down, she's right. For all intents and purposes she's bullet proof, stand down." The Air policewomen holstered their weapons and backed off. When they did, Ben put the Colonel down. The crisis seemed to have passed. Ben worked to collect the shreds of her dignity, and asked Dyson, "Now, do you suppose I could have a set of clothes that won't leave my butt hanging out?" The Colonel straightened his uniform front and answered, "I think we can arrange that, Ben. That reminds me, we have a red flag from homeland security of someone in your hometown hacking the various identity databases and creating the identity of "Beatrice, Banner' Was that you?" Ben was a bit shamefaced at that and confirmed, "Yes, sir, that was me. Seriously though I was just trying to make a plan and what was I going to do, walk up to my mom and dad's house and say, 'Hi mom and dad an alien machine turned me into a grown woman with superpowers, what's for breakfast?" Dyson smirked at that and rejoined reasonably, "No, I don't suppose that would work out very well, would it?" Ben's face took on a serious aspect and her shoulder's slumped and she asked Dyson, "What about my parents? I can't face them like this, they would never understand. Mom and Dad are pretty strict, and they would never believe it. Even if they did, they would never accept that I did not somehow secretly WANT it to happen. My Parent's my friends, school, my science fiction club, my whole life, it's all gone." Colonel William Dyson looked at the 'Superwoman' and suddenly it became very easy to see a scared lost kid that didn't know what to do and had lost everything. This 'woman' suddenly reminded William of his own son. She was just a kid who did not understand anything that had happened. "This is pretty scary stuff, huhn kiddo?" "The worst part is the dreams." Colonel Dyson perked up and asked with unexpected urgency, "What dreams, son?" "I can't seem to go to sleep without having these horrible nightmares about the end of the world and destruction and people dying and monsters and stuff, real summer blockbuster nightmare fuel." Ben, why don't we get you dressed, fed, and cleaned up and you can tell me about these dreams. "Yes, sir, that sounds good." Colonel William Dyson realized that he had been going about it all wrong. A big tough superwoman would have been impossible to control and handle, but a scared 14-year-old boy in a woman's body could be easily controlled if he was given a kind and understanding mentor figure. The United States may just have been handed it's greatest weapon since the atomic bomb and it was a weapon no other country would be able to match. Ben Blount needed a benevolent parent figure, not a harsh overseer, and if she was given one she would do whatever was asked of her as long as it was phrased the right way. Ben was given a name, 'Benita D. Banner. She received quarters at Nellis Air Force base in Nevada and she received a special commission in the United States Air Force as a brevet second Lieutenant. She also endured a rigorous battery of test that established her 'powers' as the following, Flight at supersonic speeds and even into near space. Invulnerability when fully powered up by sufficient caloric intake. Control over any machine using an electronic control system. Strength and speed in the 'super' range. Supernormal reflexes and a perceptible foreknowledge up to one minute in advance. Her weakness was primarily the energy needed to sustain and fuel her powers. She had to eat a diet that would kill a normal human and could have been prohibitive absent the Air Force's budget. The second weakness was that any clothing she was wearing could never survive the stresses of supersonic flight. Nor could it stand up to the damage her body easily shrugged off. At one point, one Master Sergeant W.A.G. quipped that her super hero name could be 'Naked Woman'. The problem was (Mostly) solved by a multi pocket body suit made of a nylon/Kevlar polyweave that was resistant to most high altitude flight stresses, even then re entry from space really did a number on it and she would need a new one. Ben's flight gear and by default her action gear consisted of her special body suit, a helmet and rebreather and custom high impact tac-boots with polyweave gloves a utility harness and a pack for oxygen for when she voyaged into near space. Her top-secret Air Force code name was 'Angel flight" Ben had a nice apartment on base and a fairly comfortable setup. She also had official standing in the Air Force witch did wonders for her self esteem. She learned U.S. Air Force regulations and comportment easily and behaved as an officer in front of others. This eased the minds of many of the brass considerably. They were relieved to see that she knew not to embarrass the Air Force. In reality, Ben was an asset. Colonel Dyson and the other staff members of team 'Black Flight' were skillfully and professionally handling her. Every night, Ben had the terrible dreams and every morning she told her 'friends' in the Air Force about them. They catalogued and analyzed them by the numbers. They were valuable intelligence and Colonel Dyson was more and more convinced that something nasty was headed Earth's way and that orb was supposed to creat defenders against it. They still had the orb and Dyson's superiors wanted to figure out a way to use it again to create more super powered flyers. One week after Ben settled in at Nellis, she received her first assignment. Trans World Airways Flight 6704 had been hijacked by the Jihad Al Moghrebi militia. It was now enrout to the continental U.S. and demanding fuel, food and the release of all inmates of the detention facility at Guantanamo bay, Cuba. Their demands had been supposedly agreed to and they had dropped to an altitude of 10,000 feet, supposedly to receive the fuel and the negotiator. The KC 135 starlifter fuel tender had an extra passenger. Second Lieutenant Benita Banner, AKA Angel Flight. Ben had received a fast crash course in how to land a 767 airliner and was told she might have to land her solo, because the 'tangos' had killed the flight crew. Ben was ready to go as the airliner came into view. She had to move fast and deal with this before the 'tangos' could react. The computer specialist aboard the starlifter used a remote modem to turn on the airliner's "Fasten seat belts" sign and the passengers did just that, belting themselves in. Ben left the starlifter and flew as if she were lightning to the rearward port hatch of the liner, then she tore it from its hinges and entered, moving so fast that the bad guys only saw a blur From her own perspective, Ben was moving at a receptively normal speed. It was the OTHER people in the cabin that seemed to be stuck in amber, almost as if they were a three dee still photograph. First, the man at the end of the aisle, Ben struck him in the solar plexus, then struck his larynx and groin, killing him with those blows. Before that terrorist could fall, Ben moved forward, disarmed the man in the center of the craft, and put her hand into his chest killing him on the spot. Then she darted forward and sweep-kicked the third man to the ground. There was a loud crunch as his skull collapsed under her heel. Ben tore the cockpit door open and entered pulling the last terrorist to his feet and snapping his neck in one two handed twisting action. Then she seated herself in the pilot's chair and commenced landing the bird before it could begin to fall. Trying to fly, and then land a 767 passenger airliner was not nearly as easy as it looked. For one thing it's forward momentum and mass had to be contended with and the downward drop of the nose was not helping her. Ben worked the right levers and told ground control of her progress but she still had to work the control yoke WITHOUT tearing it from it's mounting. Subduing the terrorists was cream cheese compared to landing this beast without ripping the wings from the fuselage. Ben finally remembered what her flight instructor told her. "Fly her, don't fight her, easy does it. She wants to fly easy." Ben eased off and let the planes avionics do the work they were designed for. Once she did that, the aircraft practically landed herself. The passengers were hurried off and corralled into the main building. When they sat down and received warm blankets, hot food and medical aid, they also received the subliminal suggestion that it had been a TEAM of Delta force fighters that had freed them and stopped the terror plot. The human memory being a pliable thing to begin with was even more malleable now in a time of high stress. 'Angel Flight" was not one woman with apparently super powers, 'Angel Flight" was a team of ten highly trained men, just as their preconceptions told them it would be. Ben met Colonel Dyson in a smaller separate room and the Colonel told her, "Outstanding, Ben, simply outstanding, no hostages killed all the terrorists were neutralized and you brought the plane down like a champ. You did great, kiddo. Now, why don't you go and get cleaned up and get some food in you, I'll bet that mission burned a lot of fuel. I'll debrief you later, O.K?" Ben stood up, saluted the Colonel, turned, and left. She was ecstatic. She had done the job, performed well, and received praise for her efforts. On top of that, she had performed an unequivocal good. A plane full of innocent civilians had been saved from a crew of really nasty murderous zealots, and Ben had done it. Not only that, but she was the only one who COULD have done it. Ben went to the room provided for her and skinned out of her flight gear and flight suit and underthings and took a much needed shower. Ben realized as she stepped under the warm shower that she was horny. She felt hot and flushed and exited and aroused and Ben could smell her own vaginal juices. The last time she felt this way was when she killed that mugger back when this first happened. Fighting made her horny. Ben tried to think about why, but she was having trouble stringing complex thoughts together given her level of sexual excitement. She was alone, so her old poindexter reflexes resurfaced and she started rubbing herself and caressing herself and working her body to a fever pitch. Ben worked her breasts and stroked her thighs and massaged her clitoris and even penetrated her vulva, bringing herself to several hard all consuming screaming orgasms, the last of witch nearly blinded her and caused her to collapse in the shower. When she got back up and checked to make sure she had not hurt herself, she cleaned herself and dried off, dressing to go to the dining hall. Ben was a flight officer in the Air Force and therefore was entitled to wear the standard duty flight suit and air wings along with her rank of second lieutenant. She was also entitled to receive military courtesy from enlisted ranks. This obligated her to pay military courtesy to higher ranks, but she did not mind. It was all part of the big blue machine. To her primary handler she was a joke. A dumb kid that stumbled into superpowers packaged with boobs and a pussy who got off on pretending to be a 'real flyer' Colonel Dyson did not realize that, as of her mission against the terrorists aboard that mid air flight, she had earned it. In the eyes of the rest of the air force personnel she was one of them, she paid her dues. That afternoon when Ben entered the dining hall there was a crowd of second lieutenants sitting at a table off to the side in view of the flight line. They waved at Ben and beckoned her to join them with her tray. Ben did not talk much she just sat, eating her meal and listening to the 'shop talk' of the five flight officers at the table. It gave her a good feeling to be 'included' in their club. It gave her the first real sense of belonging she had since the last time she hung out with Benjamin's old R.P.G club buddies. As much as Ben loved getting to know her fellow flyers it was not to last. Colonel Dyson summoned Ben to his office and seemed most disturbed about something. Ben entered, snapped to attention, saluted colonel Dyson and told him, "Second Lieutenant Banner reporting as order, sir." Ben held the salute properly and correctly, until colonel Dyson returned it telling her, "At ease Lieutenant, We have a problem." "Some bright boy over at Groome Lake tried to activate that orb again. This time they had a willing volunteer. Good part is, it worked, bad part is, now he seems to have gone axe crazy and the only way to contain him is by keeping him borderline starving and unconscious." What did he do, sir?" "The crazy bastard stared killing personnel and destroying everything he could reach. We only stopped him because we dropped about a ton of ordnance on him and exhausted his carb reserve. He shut down." "I see, sir. If I may ask, how many people did we lose?" Dyson was both surprised and pleased that Banner's first concern was for the people. It showed an uncommon maturity for her years. "That's the bad news, the butcher's bill was one hundred and ninety dead half that wounded." We had to mob up on him with a fighter group out of Edwards once he took to the air. That was how we got him, he could fight seven F-22's at one time" "Yes, sir, and now you need me to talk to this guy and find out why he, or rather she went axe crazy and I didn't." "That's right, Lieutenant" "Yes, sir, when do I leave?" "I need you packed and on the flight line in an hour you're wheels up in two hours." "Yes, sir" The two officers exchanged salutes and colonel Dyson told her, "You're dismissed." Lt. Banner turned smartly on her heel and left the office. Colonel Dyson had not been joking about the speed of their departure and Ben was running in her Air Force relaxed class "A" uniform with the skirt and hose and low heeled dress shoes and 'wooly pully' sweater with the delta neckpiece. Ben had her flight bag in one hand and her cover held to her head with the other hand as she ran to the Air Force modified Eclipse jet on the flight line. This was actually a new experience for Ben. She had never actually flown in an aircraft before. Ben had also never worn heels and skirt and hose before or been an important part of a classified operation before the device hit her with that beam, but all of that was secondary to the one big question. Why had an Air Force officer with a lot more discipline and training and experience than Ben had gone sluggnutty when this beam hit him/her when Ben had not. Ben then remembered his status and self applied title as the 'killer bimbo from outer space' and realized the two might be connected. After the plane took off Colonel Dyson looked at her sitting in her seat and commented, "No makeup Lieutenant?" "Uh, yeah, no, sir, I uh, don't really know how to do makeup, sir." "But you managed the skirt and hose?" "Uh yes, sir, they were pretty self-explanatory, the hose were just like extra long socks built into a set of tights, and the skirt straps obviously went over the bra panels." "I see, close you legs, Lieutenant, women sit with there feet together, not apart." "Yes, sir." Ben answered shamefaced as she realized her faux paus "SO, where did you find a slip?" "What's a 'slip'?" Ben realized then that she had a lot more to learn than just how to put on makeup The Air Force Eclipse jet landed at Edwards Air Force Base and the damage was obvious. Repair crews were still picking up the pieces and attempting to salvage some damaged aircraft, repair some destroyed structures and collect the bodies of those killed. There were very few wounded and a lot of dead aircrew. The most frightening thing about the visible damage and casualties, for Ben was how closely they resembled the nightmares she had been having. Lt. Ben Banner began to get a very bad feeling about this as she disembarked from the aircraft. The colonel followed her and was visibly sickened by the damage and the dead. Lt. Banner looked at Colonel Dyson as he took in the frankly nearly wrecked base. His expression was a mix of shock, horror and a terrible sadness. AN Air Force Captain drove up in a staff car and got out, Dyson asked him, "How bad it is Captain, what's the butcher's bill, here?" "Well sir, we have over two hundred dead all told with the ten people who died in the infirmary today. That woman really did a number on us, Sir. She was firing energy blasts from her hands and sometimes just flying up and knocking our planes out of the sky. We finally had to just mob up on her to take her down." "I see, where is she now, Captain?" "The big docs have her doped to the eyeballs in the basement of the NBC bunker, sir. There's enough ordnance pointed at that place to level Las Vegas, in case she busts out." "Very good Captain, did she do any harm to the dependent housing? "No sir, we kept her on the defensive long enough to keep her from lashing out at that section" "Good work." "Thank you, sir." The Captain's staff car served to carry Lt. Banner and Colonel Dyson to the Nuclear Biological and Chemical warfare protection bunker, where they would find out why the transformed pilot 'went crazy' Ben's biggest worry was that the pilot did NOT 'go crazy' that instead he/she simply followed the correct programming. If that was the case, why didn't Ben just start blasting away and Clarendon when he changed to her?"