Super Sister 10 The Mother Son Swap
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Super Sister #1: Losing A Son, Gaining A Daughter free porn video
Susper-Sister #1: Losing a Son, Gaining a Daughter
By Heather St. Claire
April 8, 1946, From the Diary of Martha Kent--These have been the most
amazing couple of days. I have lost a son but gained a daughter.
Yesterday started out like any other Sunday. Jonathan, Clark and I went
to church in the morning, and came home to a meat loaf dinner--Jonathan's
favorite! I cleared the table and had just settled down with a basket of
knitting, when a strong feeling, really, an overhwelming premonition,
came over me. I looked at Clark, who was changing to Superboy in
preparation for his daily patrol, and told him:
"Son, I have a strange feeling something amazing will change your whole
life today!"
Clark laughed and asked, "Your feminine intuition, mom?" With that, he
turned toward the stairs and the secret basement tunnel that allowed him
to exit our home unobserved.
It was the last time I would ever see our son.
A little more than an hour later, Jonathan and I were in that same
basement, when the tunnel door popped open, and we saw a familiar violet
streak.( Clark's uniform is primarily red and blue, you know, so when he
flies, the colors blur together.) But it was quickly clear that
something was different; in fact, something had profoundly changed.
"Jehosephat!" Jonathan cried. "That isn't our son."
And it wasn't. Standing before us, dressed in Clark's Superboy costume,
was a girl; a girl who looked enough like Clark to be his sister. She
was a pretty young thing, with a sweet oval face and shoulder-length
hair. She wore Clark's super-uniform, the same one I had sewn from the
blankets he was wrapped in when he landed on Earth. It had adapted
itself to the girl's smaller, and much curvier, frame. Our stunned
silence lasted only a moment, but it felt so much longer, before she
ventured her first words.
"Yes dad, it's still me," she said, in a soft, unfamiliar, trembling
voice. "Mentally, at least."
And then the whole tale unfolded--about his mountainside encounter with
an alien woman named Shar-La. Clark had spotted her spacecraft streaking
through the clouds, and it seemed, the sight of a flying boy had
startled the alien woman, causing her to lose control of her craft.
Rather than stopping the craft abruptly, which might have injured her,
he used his body to scrape a smooth landing path onto the mountainside.
Clark might be the strongest boy in the universe, but he is, or was,
still a boy, and sometimes could be as headstrong as any teen. That's
what got him into trouble.
He told us his first thought when the craft began to plunge earthward
was, "Just like a woman to lose control!" When Shar-La stepped out of
her craft, I'm sure Clark expected thanks. Instead, he was greeted by
anger. It turned out the woman was a telepath, who had read his
insulting thought. When she informed him that her world was run by
females, not men, Clark's response sealed his fate:
"If you women run your world the way you run your spaceships, I'm glad I
don't live there!"
Shar-la decided to teach my son a lesson at that moment, bathing him in
the rays from a strange jewel on a ring she wore. Clark flew off
dismissively, telling her the only thing that can harm him is
Kryptonite. He said he felt absolutely nothing; he had no idea anything
had happened. Then he caught sight of his reflection in a pond below....
He, now a she, had rushed back to the mountaintop intending to demand to
be changed back, but all traces of Shar-La were gone, and she had no
idea what part of the universe the woman called home. At that point, the
realization of what had happened to her began to sink in. By now I had
wrapped my arms around my child. Her head rested on my shoulder. It was
so strange, yet so wonderful, to feel her breasts pressed against my
own. As amazing as it was, the reality of my own senses couldn't be
denied. I had a daughter.
"So here I am--a girl!" she said. I could hear the bewilderment and fear
in her voice. I had to reassure her that she was loved as much as ever,
maybe even more. "Well, I'm delighted," I told her. "I've always wanted
a daughter as well as a son." I knew I had to take charge of the
situation. I directed Clark to box up her clothes for storage while I
headed into town on a shopping trip.
I'm so glad Mabel Parker started opening her dress shop on Sunday
afternoons not too long ago. This made my job easier. While I walked, I
began composing a cover story. I would tell her that Clark had gone east
for an extended visit with the family of one of Jonathan's brothers, and
their daughter Claire--yes, Claire, a feminine form of Clark seemed to
fit--would be staying with us. But the railroad had lost all of the poor
girl's baggage, and she didn't have a stitch to wear other than the
clothes on her back. And what teen girl can survive long with only one
outfit?
As I selected an assortment of outfits, I wondered how Clark would deal
with this change, which to all appearances was permanent. I couldn't
help but think of my own mother, Mabel Hudson. When I was growing up,
she told me about her life as a little girl in Georgia during the Civil
War, and all the suffering she and her family had endured when General
Sherman's men swept through her daddy's farm like an avenging whirlwind.
They had been wiped out, and rather than try to start over there, they
had moved to the plains of Kansas.
It was here that she met my father, Joseph Clark. Oh, she had a hard
life. Until the day she died fifteen years ago, right before Clark's
rocket landed, she never had electricity or running water in her home.
Kerosene lanterns for light, wood for cooking and heat, a pump on the
rear porch, a chamber pot under the bed, an outhouse in the yard.
What would she have thought of a world with an atomic bomb? A world
where ever someone without super-powers can fly from coast to coast?
What would she have thought of her alien grandchild?
But she was strong, oh so strong. She taught me that a Clark woman can
cope with anything life deals her.
When I returned home, I helped Clark, or Claire, into her new garments.
I could see her blanch as I pulled dresses, blouses and skirts from the
shopping bags I had carried into the house. She could only manage a
mumbled, "What--" before I asserted, "You'll have to wear dresses now."
She was able to figure most things out without my help, but I did have
to show her how to put on a brassiere. Soon I saw an average teen girl
standing before me, dressed in a long-sleeved white blouse with a Peter
Pan collar, a red checked skirt, saddle shoes and bobby sox. She would
have no trouble blending in physically; but could she make the emotional
transition? Appearances inside, it was clear to me that "she" was still
a "he" inside.
Once Claire slipped on her glasses, I felt assured she was ready, or
ready as she could be at this moment, to face the world. I called the
Lang home next door and invited Lana over to meet our "guest."
Lana arrived minutes later, excited to have a new girl next door. I
stepped onto the porch to watch them walk to the Lang house. It was a
beautiful spring afternoon. I noticed the breeze gently lifting Claire's
skirt, and wondered how she would react to something so unfamiliar. I
could hear Lana saying she wanted to try out a new recipe she had heard
on the radio, and how much fun she found cooking to be. I knew Claire
would have given anything to be anywhere else at the moment; like coming
up to bat at the baseball game in the vacant lot across the street. I
offered a prayer for her, then stepped back into the house, where I had
more work to do. I had a bedroom to redecorate.
Claire had emptied her closet and dresser drawers as I requested, and I
filled them with my purchases. It had been the most expensive shopping
trip of my life, but a girl needs a variety of outfits, and I've
scrimped and saved from my household allowance, always wanting to be
prepared for an unexpected emergency, and this certainly qualified.
Next the heavy curtains came down to be replaced by something light and
feminine; a new floral bedset was next. My last project was to set up a
dressing table. I had asked Jonathan to bring Mother Kent's old dressing
table into the house from our garage. It was a beautiful old piece, and
I hadn't been able to bear parting with it after her passing; now I was
doubly glad that we had kept it. I dusted it off and laid out an array
of brushes, combs, a couple of bottles of perfume, and a couple of
lipsticks. I would introduce her to this aspect of womanhood later this
evening, to help her prepare for her first day of school as Claire. Of
course, I had never worn makeup when I was her age, and still rarely
wear it, but times are different now.
Once I had assured myself that the room's transformation was complete, I
headed for the kitchen to begin preparation of our evening meal. A
woman's work is never done!
When Claire returned home, she had quite the story to share. I sensed
she had endured her time at Lana's house; baking a cake and listening to
records didn't meet her standards of fun. But as she sat uncomfortably
in the Lang living room, she said she had heard a persistent voice in
her head, telling them that someone called Arrow Girl was in danger at
the Smallville Amusement Park. Claire had told Lana that she had
promised to run an errand for me before dinner, and slipped away quickly
to change into her super costume.
As she streaked toward the park, she caught sight of the traveling
carnival that had set up there the day before. There was a giant
mechanical archer, and a young girl in costume about to be launched
toward a metal target. If all went as planned, she would pass harmlessly
through the bulls-eye to a waiting net. Claire hovered over the crowd,
unnoticed. For a moment, she thought the mental warning had been a false
alarm; but at the same moment the girl was shot toward the target, a
sudden gust of wind forced her off course and toward a certain collision
with the target, and injury or worse. Then the crowd saw what they
thought was a familiar streak of violet...
Of course, once Claire slowed in flight, they realized that they weren't
looking at Superboy; a super-powered girl stood before them.
Claire quickly improvised an explanation, telling those who had gathered
around her that she was Superboy's sister, who had been living on
another world, and had now switched places with him. She told me about
one dismissive man who harrumphed as she flew away: "You may not be as
able as Superboy, Super-Sister. After all, super or not...you're just a
girl!" I could tell my daughter was indignant about that remark. I felt
pride in her determination to prove herself to the world all over again,
and just a hint of sadness that it was the first of what would no doubt
be many experiences any woman faces in this world. We are almost always
underestimated by men.
But her main concern at the moment was figuring out the source of the
mental warning she had received. I was glad to be able to offer an
answer. "It's simple, Clark," I said, slipping up from habit. "Er,
Claire. You have feminine intuition now. Men don't have it. It's like a
sixth sense that warns many women of dangers in advance."
My daughter smiled, and it was her first genuine smile since her
transformation. "Then the laugh's on Shar-La," she said. "Instead of
punishing me, she gave me a new super power...super-intuition." I couldn't
help but feel a wave of pride at that moment. Jonathan and I raised her
right; her first concern is always helping others. She paused, then
cocked her head slightly as if hearing something only she could
discern...which was exactly the case. Her intuition was telling her that
her secret identity was in danger, and the source was Lana. Claire used
her x-ray vision and super-hearing to eavesdrop on the Lang household,
where the professor was reading an "extra" edition of the Smallville
Ledger that had been rushed to press to herald the arrival of Super-
Sister and her first amazing rescue.
Claire may have changed, but Lana's suspicious nature had not. My girl
heard Lana putting two and two together. Claire had disappeared moments
before Super-Sister appeared, and Lana would test her suspicions in
school the next day. Fortunately, our girl would be prepared.
After our usual light Sunday supper, Claire retired to her remade
bedroom. If she was startled by the new feminine touches, she didn't
betray that. I sensed that ever so gradually, she had decided to make
the best of the strange hand she had been dealt. I poked my head in
about an hour later to find her, wrapped in her new pink dressing gown,
busily remaking one of her Superboy robots. The secret panel in her
closet was open, exposing the mechanical doubles of himself that
Superboy had created.
It must have been difficult for her to be confronted by this
representation of who she had been just hours before, but she was busily
going about her task: converting one of the robots into a perfect
doppelganger of her new form. She looked up when she realized I was
standing in the doorway. "What do you think, mom?" she asked.
I walked in to give her handiwork a closer inspection. "Land sakes! It's
your spitting image!"
She smiled. "Thanks, ma. It may not be that good, but it should fool
everyone from a distance."
I gave her a hug and a kiss goodnight. "You're going to be fine,
daughter. You're going to be fine."
She seemed to give me an extra-firm squeeze as she said, "Thanks, ma.
Thanks for everything." I couldn't but help thinking about my own
mother, and how special the mother-daughter bond can be. No matter how
careworn she was, taking care of the home, helping pa with the farm and
taking care of all of us, she always had extra time for me. Time to
teach me how to sew, cook, bake and take care of a house; time to teach
me how to fulfill a woman's role in life.
This morning, Claire came downstairs in the same outfit she had worn
yesterday. I informed her that simply wouldn't do; girls today were more
clothes-conscious than in my day. She offered a small sigh, and her
shoulders slumped just a bit, but knew I was right. Soon she was seated
with us at the table wearing a purple dress. "Better, ma?" she asked as
she sat down. I nodded and watched her dig into her plate of potatoes
and eggs. She still attacked it like a hungry boy instead of a dainty
girl; I suppose she will learn new behaviors with time.
The school day was about as uneventful as it could have been, given the
circumstances. Claire's test came right before the first bell of the
day. She was already seated at her desk when Lana approached, fingernail
clippers in hand. "Hi Claire! Let me show you how neat my new fingernail
clippers work!" Of course, she knew she was springing a trap; if Claire
and Super-Sister really were one and the same person, the clippers
wouldn't be able to cut her super-hard nails.
Claire didn't even have time to protest, because at that instant, Lana
caught sight of a streaking form in the sky outside the window. It
appeared to be Super-Sister on patrol. Lana backed away without another
word. I wouldn't learn this until later, just as I wouldn't learn the
details of her next adventures on the way home from school today, when
her super-intuition alerted her to a girl in danger on a tropical island
and a girl performer in trouble in an underwater show.
I had to wait to hear those stories, because, being the responsible
youngster that she is, she knew she was late for her after-school job
helping her pa in the general store. I'm so glad I helped persuade
Jonathan to give up the farm and move into town a few years ago. I know
he misses the wide open spaces, but given his heart issues, it was time
for him to do something less strenuous.
I heard Claire arrive through the basement tunnel. She came running up
the stairs and moved toward the front door with haste, calling out,
"Sorry I'm late, ma! Please call pa and let him know I'm on my way!" By
the time I managed to say "But, Claire--" she was already out the door
and down the street. I knew she was in for another change to the life
she knew. Her father could deal with this one.
She breezed through the front door of the store, the tiny tinkling bell
heralding her arrival, no doubt intent on putting on her apron and
helping her father stock shelves, when she was confronted by a familiar
sight: Pete Ross. Only Pete was wearing what had been her apron. Pete
smiled at my girl, and Pa stepped forward, seeing her confusion.
"Claire, did you meet Pete Ross in school today? He's been a good friend
of Clark's."
"No Uncle Jonathan, " Claire said. "I saw him in a couple of my classes,
but we weren't introduced."
"Pete's taking Clark's job helping out at the store while Clark is
away," pa explained. After a couple of minutes of small talk, pa filled
a small bag with groceries and handed them to Claire. "Your Aunt Martha
asked me to send this home with you. Thanks for coming in."
Claire walked into the kitchen, looking as lost as she had the day
before. I beckoned her to sit down; I hoped she'd sample one of the
cookies I had baked this afternoon, but the plate sat before her
untouched. "Daughter, I'm sorry, but I tried to tell you. You have to
understand. Working in a store is a boy's job. A girl's place is at
home, helping with the household."
She nodded in agreement, but remained silent. I reached for her hand.
"Something else is bothering you, isn't it? Come on, you can tell your
Ma anything."
She nodded. "I know that, Ma. I'm just not sure how to explain it. When
I got to the store, and I saw Pete....I had this strange fluttery feeling
inside. He's the same Pete I've known for years. Could that mean....I have
feelings for him? The way a girl has feelings for a boy?"
I nodded. "I think that's exactly what it means, daughter. And don't you
think that's a good thing? Whatever power changed you seemed to leave
your mind untouched at first. But I think that's starting to change now,
too. And doesn't that make sense? If you are going to be a girl, isn't
it better to be one, inside and outside? And if you are going to have
feelings for a boy, there couldn't be a nicer one than Pete."
She nodded, and smiled. I sensed she had fought back a stray tear.
"You're right, ma. Of course, you're right."
We prepared supper together, and it felt like a normal family meal when
we all sat down together. Poor Jonathan had been as stunned as Clark by
what happened yesterday, but I sensed he was adjusting to having a
daughter as well.
As I write this, Claire's cleaning up in the kitchen. I have to admit
it's going to be nice having a super daughter to help me with the
chores. I'm not getting any younger.
The phone just rang.
"Ma? That was Lana. After I finish cleaning up, can I go over to her
house? We're going to study together, and she said she picked up the new
Nelson Eddy record today."
I smiled. "Of course. But listening to music? I thought that bored you
yesterday."
Claire nodded. "I know. But that was yesterday. Something's different
today. I like that Nelson Eddy. He's kind of...dreamy. He kind of reminds
me of Pete."
"Have fun, daughter, and be home by nine please."
"You bet, Ma." With that, she ducked back into the kitchen. I felt a
sense of peace. My girl's going to be just fine. We Kent women can cope
with anything life deals us.
The End
(Authors note: For my 75th story on Fictionmania, I wanted to reach back
to my first inspiration, the 1960 Otto Binder/John Sikella Superboy
story, "Claire Kent, Alias Super-Sister!" I want to acknowledge the
series of Super-Sister stories here by Bob H., which I have greatly
enjoyed. Those envision Super-Sister in a present-day setting; I've
positioned this one in the original Silver Age time period.)
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