Super Sister 2 My Husband Walks A Mile In My Shoes
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Super-Sister #4: Secrets Revealed free porn video
Super-Sister #4: Secrets Revealed
By Heather St. Claire
"In Smallville one day, the people blink is disbelief as they see a girl
dressed in the super uniform of Superboy, patrolling in his place! You
will be even more amazed to enter the privacy of the Kent home to find a
daughter living with mom and dad! Yes, the most freakish twist of fate
imaginable changes the boy of steel into a lass of steel, when Clark
Kent becomes...Claire Kent, Alias Super-Sister!"
April 30, 1948, From the Diary of Claire Kent: If you knew me, you'd
think of me as a pretty normal girl. I'm seventeen years old and I'm a
junior at Smallville High School. I live with my "aunt and uncle,"
Martha and Jonathan Kent. My best friend lives next door; her name is
Lana Lang. She's a cute, sassy redhead, and her father's a famous
explorer. Lana and I spent a lot of time together hanging out at the
soda shop, the library or at each other's houses, studying, listening to
music, or cooking, baking and sewing. We work on a lot of sewing
projects together; after all, we're in charge of the end-of-year fashion
show the school's sewing class will be presenting. The whir of a sewing
machine has become one of my favorite sounds. It means I will soon hold
a creation all my own in my hands; maybe it's something I will wear
myself; maybe it will be a special gift for someone. When Mrs. Spencer
put us in charge of the show, she said we were the two most talented and
responsible girls in the class. That made me very proud.
I've got a steady boyfriend, a very sweet boy I've known since we were
both children. His name is Pete Ross. Lana doesn't have a regular beau,
she seems to enjoy playing the field. Pete and I and Lana and whoever
she's dating are pretty much a foursome around town. When Lana and I
aren't hanging out in person, we're on the Ameche, talking to each
other. I slather on some face cream, curl up with the receiver, and get
settled in for a long spell of girl talk. Uncle Jonathan sees me, shakes
his head and asks what we've got to talk about, since we've been
together all day.
I just laugh and tell him we've got oodles to talk about. But then, men
just don't seem to understand women, do they?
Bedtime eventually comes, and when it does, I always make sure to brush
my shoulder-length hair one thousand times. They say it's the best thing
a girl can do to keep her hair shiny, healthy and strong. Most girls I
know only do one hundred strokes, but I put my hair through more than
most of them.
Yes, it's a very nice life, and like I said, it seems pretty ordinary.
There are just a few of out of the ordinary things about me. Although I
look like an average girl, I'm not from Earth. I was born on a destroyed
planet called Krypton and was sent here in a rocket by my scientist
father right before the planet blew up. Under Earth's yellow sun and
lesser gravity I've gained all kinds of super-powers I use for good in
my costumed identity as Super-Sister.
Just a few weeks ago, I had my last encounter with Lex Luthor, the evil
boy genius who also grew up in Smallville and now seems to be intent on
enslaving the world. He kidnapped Dr. Wernher Von Braun and was going to
force him to help him out. Lex was working on a cure for his baldness at
the same time. It worked and he ended up with a nice head of red hair
again. Unfortunately for Lex, there was a minor side effect; he was
changed into a girl. He, or rather, she, is at the girl's industrial
school. They call her Leslie Luthor now.
Oh, there's one other thing about me that's out of the ordinary. Like
Luthor, I was born a boy.
That changed a little over two years ago when I had an encounter with an
alien named Shar-La. I was on patrol one day when the sight of me flying
by startled her, causing her to lose control of her ship. I rescued her,
and she paid me back by changing me into a girl by bathing me in the
rays of a strange ring she wore.
OK, to be honest, there's more to the story than that. I really kind of
asked for it. I was pretty mean. I said, or rather I thought, a lot of
insulting things about women. It turned out she was a telepath, that she
thought I needed to learn a lesson, and she had a magic gem on her ring
that could teach me that lesson. Well, when I realized what had
happened, I was pretty shocked at first, but I think I quickly decided I
had to adapt, or maybe my mind needed a little time to catch up to my
new body. Sure, I had to do a lot of adapting; the way I thought, felt,
and acted; what I wore. It still only takes me seconds to dress when I
need to change in a hurry, but it does take a little longer to put on my
bra, panties, saddle shoes, socks, half-slip, blouse or sweater, skirt,
and lipstick than it did to put on Clark's clothes. Maybe an extra three
seconds; and if it's Sunday and we're on our way to church, add about
two more, as I also have to take off and put back on my nylon stockings,
hat, gloves, jewelry and girdle. Ma says a proper young lady always
wears a girdle to church. It's not so much about the way it shapes you
as in the way it makes you carry yourself differently; it's a state of
mind.
The fact that I gained an extra super power that allowed me to foresee
dangers other women were facing in advance was one of the good things
that came out of my change, as it meant I had one more way to help
people.
Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Martha have raised me right. They've given me my
moral compass and taught me that my powers are a gift that must be used
for good. But they've also taught me that in order to help people, I
really need to understand them, and that's why they've encouraged me to
live as normal a life as possible. Aunt Martha and I have had a lot of
talks about what my life will be like as an adult, including whether I
can ever marry and have a family. My great fear is that if I were to
take a husband, criminals would discover my secret identity one day and
try to get at me through those I love.
Just when I think I've tucked away the thought of a family of my own in
a back corner of my heart and mind, something happens. Something like
the arrival of the Haggerty's new baby. They live just down the block
from us. Bert works at the machine shop and he came home from the war a
couple of years ago. He and Shirley got married on Valentine's Day last
year. Last month, she gave birth to the most beautiful, most absolutely
perfect baby boy.
The first time I got to hold him after he came home from the
hospital...well, it was just the most amazing feeling! I pretty much
gushed when I got home, telling Aunt Martha, "He is so beautiful! Such a
sweet little face, those ten little perfect fingers, ten little perfect
toes...Ma (I still call her ma a lot of the time, though she's always
'Aunt Martha' in public), what is this?"
She smiled gently, and a bit sadly, when she said, "It's maternal
instinct, Claire."
I sighed. "Ohh, I thought so. I suppose I'm never going to get to know
it myself." I felt myself fighting back a tear.
She drew me closer and we hugged. "Never say never, child. I thought the
good lord would never bless your pa and I with a child. Then one day you
dropped out of the sky."
That helped me to feel better. Ma always has a gift for making me feel
better.
For now, I've just been happy to go steady with Pete. I know his name is
going to fill my card at every school dance. We snuggle at the movies or
in his car, but we've never gone past first base--that's not the way our
families raised us. So why am I feeling jealous?
It's so very silly, really. I know Pete cares for me, he really does.
But he's also wild about Super-Sister. It seems like he can't stop
talking about her, and how amazing she is. He'll come running up to me
with the latest issue of the Smallville Ledger in hand and say, "Claire!
Did you see how Super-Sister rescued all those horses from the burning
stables at the Fairgrounds?"
I just smiled and said, "Yes, Petey. I heard already."
If it happened every now and then, it would be one thing. But it happens
all the time. I finally told Aunt Martha that I was beginning to resent
Super-Sister; it felt like there was an extra person along on our dates.
I shouldn't let it bother me. I know Pete thinks I'm cute; he tells me I
have a classy chassis. That's despite the fact that I always try to play
down my looks. I only wear pale shades of lipstick and no other makeup,
and my skirts, blouses and dresses are a little on the plain side.
Still, I've got the sort of body that stands out, whether I want it to
or not. Thanks to my super-hearing, I can hear boys on the other side of
the school yard saying I'm stacked. It makes me blush, but it also makes
me feel good. Girls never seemed to notice Clark, but boys sure notice
Claire. I guess that's something else I can thank Shar-la for.
Somehow, Clark was able to slump his shoulders and wear clothes that
were loose fitting, and no one noticed Superboy's muscles; but the
roomiest sweaters don't seem to conceal my most prominent assets. The
boys notice, and so do the girls, but they can be so jealous. Ma and Pa
taught me that I shouldn't eavesdrop, but it's hard not to tune it out
when people are talking about me, and somehow, it's harder still when
they're being nasty. My super-hearing can pick up whispered comments on
the other side of the library; comments like, "Claire is SUCH a goody
two shoes!" That was from Lisa Davis.
"She can afford to be!" Mary O'Donoghue.
"What do you mean by that?" Ann Selfridge.
"Well, they say boys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses, but I
guess they make an exception when they're built like Claire." Lisa.
Giggling from everyone.
"My brother says she's built like a brick outhouse." Ann. More giggling.
They call me the Girl of Steel, because my skin is invulnerable.
Sometimes I wish I had a heart of steel as well. Thank goodness my
super-intuition sounded at that moment and I had to streak away to stop
an auto accident on Main Street before it happened. Of course, that
meant another front-page newspaper story and more talk from Pete about
how wonderful Super-Sister is.
"Oh, Aunt Martha!" I sobbed one night long after all this when I was
feeling particularly blue. "Sometimes I wish Super-Sister would just get
lost!"
She hugged me and did her best to soothe me, but I could also tell she
had to fight not to laugh. Before too long, I was laughing and wiping
away my tears at the same time.
Pete asked me out the movies tonight. At first, I assumed we'd be going
to the Majestic, but I felt a shiver of delight when he said he wanted
to take me to the new drive-in that just opened north of town on the old
Perkins property. Uncle Jonathan said he couldn't understand why anyone
would want to cover over perfectly good farmland, but Aunt Martha
understood. "Think of the young families, Jonathan," she said. "They can
go to the movies together and not have to worry if the baby cries."
I was doubly looking forward to tonight because it was going to be our
first date in Pete's new car, a '34 Ford sedan, which replaced his '23
Model T he had been driving, sometimes, for the past couple of years. I
say "sometimes" because it seemed like the car spent more time up on
blocks than rolling down the street.
The movie playing at the drive-in? "The Bachelor and the Bobby Soxer"
with Cary Grant, Myrna Loy and Judy Garland. Gosh, what a fitting choice
to mirror my feelings. Judy's got a crush on Cary Grant (well, what girl
doesn't have a crush on Cary Grant), but of course he ends by with her
older sister, played by Myrna.
I love going to the movies because I can get lost in another world for a
couple of hours. Unless my super-intuition interrupts me, I can forget
I'm the mightiest mortal alive and just pretend I'm another girl out on
a Friday night with her boyfriend. And we get to enjoy some serious
cuddle time. When Pete puts his arm around me, and I rest my head on
his shoulder, I feel comfortable, safe, protected, loved. He takes a
deep whiff of my perfume and tells me how nice I smell. I smile and tell
him, "Well, I'm glad you like it, since you bought it for me." At a
moment like this, It doesn't matter that I can fly, that I can see
through walls and lift mountains, that bullets will bounce off my nice
big bosom that everyone seems fixed on....I'm just a girl with her
boyfriend. And I'm happy.
I think I might have gotten a little carried away tonight, though. At
one point, when Pete and I were kissing, I took his hand and placed it
on my breast. My nipples immediately became erect, and I felt such a
wonderful electric tingle, not only in my breast, but between my legs,
too. Our breathing was more rapid, and I could hear both our hearts
beating faster. I pressed closer to him as he gently kneaded the breast
for a few moments before whispering, "Claire--I shouldn't...." I nodded in
reluctant agreement, and I think we both did our best to put the moment
out of our minds.
(I'm still trying to sort out why I was so bold. Ma would be horrified
if she knew; she'd call it the act of a "brazen hussy", but I think I
know. I think it all goes back to that jackhammer that Luthor created
and used when he imprisoned me. It's the most powerful vibrator ever
created. I've been studying it very carefully these past few weeks,
trying to better understand how his, or now, her mind works. I'm afraid
it might have been responsible for me getting carried away like that.)
As we started driving toward home, Pete told me he felt sorry for Johnny
Sands, who played Shirley's forgotten boyfriend. "Once Cary Grant came
along, she forgot all about him!"
I laughed. "Oh? Kind of like the way you act whenever Super-Sister comes
along with another one of her good deeds?"
He seemed to be at a loss for words. "Now Claire! That's different!" he
finally spluttered.
"How is it different?"
"I...I admire her. I appreciate all the good she does for people. I'm not
in love with her. If that's what you're thinking. I'm not in my car
making out with her!" He was getting defensive, even angry, but I
couldn't let it go.
"But wouldn't you be making out with her if you had the chance?"
"Claire, I don't understand what this is all about," Pete pleaded. "I
thought we had a wonderful time together tonight. I thought--" Pete
didn't get a chance to go on, because at that moment, just as my super-
intuition began signaling that danger was ahead, we spotted a car in the
ditch by the side of the road. It was on its side; it looked like it had
gone out of control and rolled over a couple of times. A woman was
standing by the car in tears, waving her arms frantically.
I gave her a quick but careful appraisal. I realized it's instinctual
for me, both as a super-heroine and as a woman. She appeared to be in
the early to mid-twenties. She was wearing a very tight polka dot dress,
heels that were at least four inches high, and a LOT of makeup. Her hair
was a really brassy shade of red that had to have come from a bottle.
Definitely not from around here, and very likely trouble.
Pete, good guy that he is, pulled over. "Poor woman probably needs a
ride," he said.
"Be careful!" I called out. But it was already too late. Before Pete
could take another step, a man who had been laying on the ground
alongside the car suddenly sprang to his feet. He held a gun.
"NO!" I screamed, and hopped out of the car. If I had been thinking more
clearly, I would have used my heat vision to make the gun so hot he
would have been forced to drop it. But I wasn't thinking clearly. All I
could focus on was saving the boy I love.
The punk with the gun smiled when he saw me. His girlfriend wasn't,
well, as endowed as I am. Apparently he's what they call a breast man.
His sick smile told me exactly what he was thinking. "Well, I was just
gonna take your car, but I think I'm gonna bring you along for the ride,
sugar. You're a real dish." He was a hollow-chested little man with
greasy hair and a nail-file mustache. A thin mustache looks handsome on
Clark Gable. It didn't do much for this guy.
"Petey, do whatever he says, give him whatever he wants," I said in the
most trembling voice I could manage. I could see Pete was fuming. In the
meantime, the punk was moving closer to me.
He reached for my chest; at first I thought he wanted to cop a feel,
then I realized to my horror that he was grabbing for my pearls. Great-
grandma Clark's pearls, that ma had given me last Christmas. A family
heirloom. The one thing that had survived the Civil War; they had lost
everything else of value. I never, ever wore them except at church and
the most special occasions, but tonight, I had put on my peach angora
sweater over a cream-colored blouse, and I thought those dazzling
perfect pearls would set things off nicely. "And these will help pay to
get a new car," he declared as his stubby fingers grabbed for the
pearls. I could go diving in the sea and in a couple of minutes have
the most beautiful pearl necklace ever, but it wouldn't be Great-Grandma
Clark's. Some things can't be replaced at any price, and I was heartsick
that I might lose them now. But better to give up the pearls than to let
my secret identity be revealed.
Pete cried, "No!" and lunged toward the punk, who immediately fired.
There was nothing else I could do. I had to save Pete. Maybe I could
have figured out another way; maybe I didn't want to.
The punk and his girlfriend only saw a blur; they blinked and Pete and I
were gone. That's because I was already hundreds of feet in the air with
Pete cradled in my arms. I hadn't even been able to spare the split
second I would have needed to change.
"Claire," he said. For some reason, he didn't seem surprised at all. I
put him down on the porch of the old Kent farmhouse, vacant ever since
we moved to town and ma and pa had rented the fields out to a neighbor.
I asked Pete to turn around and quickly shed my civilian clothes for my
Super-Sister costume. All he would have seen was a blur, but a girl
still has to maintain her modesty. When Pete turned around and saw me
facing him in costume, all he managed was a strangled, "Wow."
"No time to talk, Pete. I've got to go round up a couple of criminals."
Within minutes I had the bewildered punk and his girlfriend delivered to
Chief Parker, and I flew back to where I had left Pete.
""So," I said.
"So," he repeated with a nod.
"So now you know."
"Ciaire," he said gently. "I've known for years."
"You've known what?"
"That you're Super-Sister, and that you used to be Superboy...and Clark."
"But how?"
He swallowed hard. "I'll tell you." He looked in the empty front windows
of our old house, almost as if he expected to see the ghost of Clark
Kent, as well as the younger Jonathan and Martha Kent, lurking in the
shadows. "Being here brings back a lot of memories for me. I'm sure it
does for you, too. A lot has changed in a few years, hasn't it?" I
nodded. It seemed like he was working his way toward unburdening himself
of something he had held onto for a long time.
"Remember that camping trip we took back when we were freshmen, and the
thunderstorm in the middle of the night? You stopped that out of control
train. What you didn't know was that I woke up just as a bolt of
lightning illuminated the tent. It was as bright as day. I saw you
changing to Superboy."
I shook my head. "And I never knew. And how did you know I became Super-
Sister?"
"Well, I didn't witness that, so I don't know the how or why. I just put
two and two together when Clark disappeared and Claire arrived and
Superboy disappeared and Super-Sister showed up, all at the same time.
Frankly, given Lana Lang's suspicious nature, I'm surprised she's never
put two and two together."
I laughed. "Oh, Lana has had her suspicions, believe me." A long silence
followed. Finally I took a step toward him, put my hand on his shoulder,
and spoke again. "So, Petey, if you were so sure it was me, and you know
I'm invulnerable, why did you jump at him? Didn't you figure I could
save myself?"
"Super....Claire," he said. "It's how my parents raised me. They taught me
that a boy stands up for his girl, and takes care of her, no matter
what."
I felt tears welling up inside of me. "Oh Petey," I said. "That is so
sweet. You really do love me...for me, not just because I'm Super-Sister?
And it doesn't bother you that I used to be a boy?"
He smiled. "Oh Claire, it's really swell that you have all those powers,
but I'm not impressed just by that. It's how you use them to help
people. That's why I think you're wonderful. You're so generous and
sweet....and yeah, you might have been a boy once...." He smiled, looked me
up and down from head to toe, and it felt like he was peeling off my
super-costume with his eyes..."but you're sure all-girl now."
We pulled closer to each other and kissed. It was a kiss to always be
remembered on a night I'm never going to forget. Where our lives go from
here, I don't know. But I do know things will never be the same.
The End
NOTES: "Ameche" was forties slag for the telephone, after actor Don
Ameche who played telephone inventor Alexander Graham Bell in an early
biopic. This story, and others in the series, are based on the 1960
Superboy story, "Claire Kent, Alias Super-Sister." Clark is transformed
into a girl in the story, but it all turns out to be a "mental vision"
projected by the alien Shar-La. In this series, I assume the
transformation actually happened.
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