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[This story is set in Paragon City, taken from the former MMO game City of Heroes. All place names, hero names and registered trademarks belong to their rightful legal owners and are not intended as copyright infringement in any way. This work is purely meant as a piece of entertainment, and not for commercial purposes in any way, shape or form.]

[The precursor to this series is entitled “Mom the Superheroine”.]

[Though there are incestuous elements between a mother and her consenting adult daughter here, this story is really about the personal journey of two superheroines.]

Barbara raged inside.

Her face was a rictus of effort, as she pushed with all her might against the monstrous mountain of muscle that was the Supa-Troll. He had the advantages of height, mass and girth – and just possibly, strength.

This was galling, bitterly galling. She knew the news cameras were catching this, she knew the Trolls were watching and delighting in her apparent suffering – but most of all, she knew her beloved daughter was watching, with love and devotion and faith in her. That belly-battering barrage had winded her, but that was no excuse.

Would she always have to appear this weak, in front of the most precious person in the world to her? Did she have to be seen losing to this odious monster?

He loomed over her now, his bulk almost engulfing her. Her muscles flexed as hard as they could, but any moment now, she could feel it, her strength would give out and her knee would touch the ground.

She could hear Cindy yelling encouragement, cheering her on. That always gave her strength. It was doing so now – but would it be enough?

The foul, reeking stench of the Supa-Troll was overwhelming in such close proximity. She would have gagged, except that she had to take in as much oxygen as she could to fuel her straining muscles.

No, she told herself. She couldn’t lose. She had to be stronger than this. She was Cindy’s mother. She knew how proud Cindy was of her. She couldn’t give such a poor showing. She had to do better. She had to be stronger than this mutated degenerate.

She dug deep, as deeply as she had dug during her duel with Valerie. She called it up again, that boiling anger at the thought of harm coming to her daughter. Her knee was hovering just an inch above the asphalt road surface now… She could not lose. She refused to lose. She was Battler Babe, the proud mother of Battleborn, a defender of Paragon City. She had to be stronger than this.

The long moments passed. By dint of immense exertion, Barbara managed to keep from losing. And, ever so slowly, she began to push back.

Cindy’s screams of support were like a lighthouse in the storm. She closed her eyes, and thought of her daughter. Bit by bit, the pain and fatigue in her lower back, her thighs, and her arms and shoulders began to melt away. She got her second wind – she braced for a big push.

But that second wind did not last long – the Troll roared in frustration, shook his hands free, and wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezing her breath out of her. She stiffened and cried out at the constricting pressure around her torso, just under her ribs. That was the hardest part of the torso to protect: higher, and she could flex her thick lats to resist any crushing pressure; lower, and her formidable abs could do it. But right in the middle, her bones were being painfully grinded, and she had only the small intercostal muscles with which to put up some resistance.

“At least I didn’t lose the test of strength!” she told herself. But it was scant consolation. She had been on the losing end, and every moment of that was a moment in which her strength was not being asserted. It wasn’t helping the larger objective of appearing dominant over the foul Troll.

She gritted her teeth, as the crushing pressure on her torso increased. The ugly, leering face of the Supa-Troll was right in between her breasts. Barbara balled her fists, tensed her arms, and sent them crashing simultaneously into both sides of the Troll’s head.

The Troll’s eyes went unfocused. His arms suddenly went limp, and Barbara slipped out of his loathsome grasp, gasping and holding her aching ribs. While she recovered, the Supa-Troll staggered backwards, holding his head and moaning.

Cindy’s exultant cheering rose above the hubbub of the angry Trolls. “Yes! Go Mom! Pound him down!”

She would have dearly loved to win a contest of muscle, as she remembered she had done, when she was younger and stronger. But that was a luxury for her now, she thought ruefully. Her objective was to win. She had to stay focused on that.

Perhaps she could capitalize on this momentary advantage. She gathered herself, and leaped at the Supa-Troll with a flying straight right – what people in fighting circles called a “Statesman punch”, after the iconic Hero.

It landed with a satisfyingly solid smack, right in the middle of his face, which was knocked back in an explosion of blood and a few teeth. Finally antalya escort – she had scored a meaningful blow! Yelling, she threw yet another flurry of punches at her huge opponent.

Her fists sank into the tough green flesh. This time her punches were having an effect – she could see it. The Supa-Troll was finally getting worn down.

But he wasn’t down for the count yet. He recoiled from a mighty left hook by Barbara, but reacted with a backhand sweep that struck her face. She reeled, stunned. Then, more quickly than she had anticipated, his massive right fist followed, catching her jaw.

Her vision swam. She stood, her legs feeling wobbly. Somewhere, she could hear Cindy yelling, but she couldn’t make out what her daughter was saying. But her opponent loomed up in front of her, a large monstrous presence, and engulfed her, scooping her up and pinning her arms to her sides.

Her head slowly began to clear, but she awakened to a world of pain – once again, she was being squeezed in a bear hug, except this time, the Supa-Troll had lifted her clean off the ground, and trapped her arms. She wriggled and struggled, but to no avail – in this position, he was too strong for her to outmuscle. She had no leverage.

And the nagging thought arose in her, telling her that even if the leverage were equal – even in an even contest of strength – she would lose.

She groaned, weakly, straining to maintain her abdominal resiliency. It felt very nearly as bad as when Valerie had tortured her abs thoroughly during their junkyard duel. That had been one of the most absolutely harrowing ordeals of her life, and this was starting to come very close.

“Girly weak,” the Supa-Troll snorted derisively, his mouth twisted with sadistic glee as he squeezed with every ounce of strength he could muster. “Crush girly hero. Girly hero lose. Supa-Troll win!”

Barbara had one chance left. In her current position, the only thing she could do was to use her legs.

So she did, raising them and snapping her thighs around the Supa-Troll’s torso. His eyes widened in surprise as she began to squeeze, clamping as hard as she could with her leg muscles, locking her ankles behind the Troll’s body.

She locked eyes with the Troll, glaring, matching his fury with her own. “I’m strong,” she whispered, as she squeezed, at a volume only the both of them could hear. “I’m stronger than you.”

Her leg muscles trembled as she did her very best to prove that claim.

***

From her vantage point, Cindy had full view of everything going on. She could see her mother’s lips move, and she knew what her mother had just said.

“Yes, you are, Mom,” she said softly. “Yes, you are. You’re stronger than him. Show them. Show them all.”

She clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles went white, mentally channeling her strength into her mother’s quivering thighs and rigidly-flexed torso, trying to imagine joining her strength to her mother’s.

The seconds turned to minutes. The combatants were almost motionless in that position, almost like statues, except for the trembling, gasping and groaning. Cindy’s heart ached to see the agony of effort etched on Barbara’s face. She glared at the hulking form of the Supa-Troll, willing him to weaken and succumb.

“Stay strong, Mom! Stay strong! You got this! You can do it!” she cried out.

She had a mental image of the Troll winning, her mother’s muscles failing, the Troll shaking her around like a rag doll – she blinked away the tears furiously.

“Stay strong, Mom!”

Barbara’s legs, against the Supa-Troll’s massive arms, which were in fact larger than her legs… Barbara’s battered torso, against the Troll’s which were almost too large for Barbara to have wrapped her arms around… Cindy blinked away yet more tears. Her mother could not lose!

“Stay strong, Mom!”

Then at long last, the Troll groaned and sank to one knee!

It was too soon to be exultant, but all the same, Cindy felt her spirit rise. She practically shook with excitement, as she saw how the Troll’s strength was fading, moment by moment. And her strong, beautiful mother was going on, like a dynamo, pouring on the pressure with those lovely, shapely legs, legs that had crushed bowling balls for charity, legs that she worshipped regularly in the privacy of their bedroom.

“Go, Mom, go!” she screamed, heedlessly. “Go, Mom, go!”

And finally, with a groan, the Supa-Troll’s grip loosened, and he slumped. Barbara landed on her back, but not painfully, and with a twist of her hips flipped the Troll over on his side. He landed with a thump, facedown.

It wasn’t over yet, and Barbara knew it. She looked to be on the brink of exhaustion, after the terrible squeezing she had just endured, but she nevertheless clambered atop the prone Supa-Troll, who was just struggling to his feet. Before he could do so, she wrapped her thighs around his waist again, and her arms around his neck. She then rolled over on her own back, trapping him securely alanya escort in a rear-naked choke.

With normal human beings, this was considered very nearly inescapable – there were certain techniques one could try, of course, but much more often than not this was a straight-out winning submission move if one could pull it off. With a Supa-Troll, however, it wasn’t so simple – Cindy knew her mother still had to pour her strength into the hold to properly knock her opponent out and win the match.

Every line on Barbara’s bulging, curvy muscles stood out starkly. Her mouth hung open with the exertion. Her eyes were glazed – but then they met Cindy’s, and they focused. And holding her daughter’s gaze, Battler Babe squeezed and squeezed, flexing every muscle in her body to the uttermost.

Finally, it was over.

The Supa-Troll lay unmoving, with only the slightest of rise and fall motion to indicate he was even still alive. Slowly, every movement costing her, Barbara climbed to her feet, moving as if her limbs were rubber. The pain and fatigue had to be immense – Cindy could only imagine it.

But she jumped down beside her mother, clapping and cheering, tears flowing down her cheeks. “You did it, Mom! You did it! You won!” And she grabbed Barbara’s hand and raised it in victory, glaring defiantly at the circle of Trolls who were muttering furiously and closing in. Let them gaze upon her powerful, triumphant mother, Battler Babe!

She grew concerned. Weren’t they supposed to be discouraged and dispersed at the defeat of their leader? Instead, they seemed to be growing angrier by the moment.

And then, as one, they charged.

***

Barbara swooned. She felt dead on her feet. The duel had taken everything she had, and then some. She smiled tiredly as her daughter raised her arm to declare her the winner – she could barely hold herself upright. She would need a while to recover.

Then she saw, to her horror, that her victory was not having the anticipated and desired effect. These Trolls weren’t shaken – they were enraged!

Her heart sank. Who could help them now, against a horde of vengeful Trolls? She prepared to draw Cindy in close and protect her daughter’s body with her own. At least she, as a mother, could do that much until help could arrive.

But her daughter had other things in mind.

She gaped in amazement as she saw her daughter spring into action, yelling furiously. The first Troll fist flew in – Cindy caught it by the wrist – the Troll went flying, into two others rushing in – Cindy’s backhand swing threw a few more Trolls back – then Cindy ducked and for a moment Barbara’s heart stopped as she went out of sight – then the air was filled with flying Trolls, including one whose ankles were firmly in Cindy’s grasp. She was using one of them as a bludgeon, and swinging him in circles.

And all the while, she was yelling.

“You vile, cheating little shits! My mom won, you bastards!”

She flung her makeshift weapon into yet more Trolls, and grabbed another one, smashing her forehead into his face. He went cross-eyed. She threw him into yet another cluster.

“You’re supposed to be running already, you disgusting little pieces of shit! Get back to your damn holes, or I’m going to throw you back in there and pull them down on top of you! Bastards! Vile little scum-sucking bastards!”

Barbara had never heard her daughter use foul language, ever. She remembered on the very few occasions Cindy had ever done something like stub her toe, or jam her finger or something, before she had gotten her powers, the most vulgar she had ever been was to say, “Oh darn it! Fish sticks!” She had never so much as said “fuck”, not even when they were both feeling their friskiest.

Now Barbara stood with her hands on her knees, panting, catching a much-needed breather, as she wordlessly beheld the whirlwind of violence a furious Cindy had become. She had apparently decided she liked throwing them – she began to focus on doing that, grabbing any extremities she could and flinging the target as far as she could. At one point, she grabbed a luckless Troll by the ear, and attempted it – only to have the ear come off right in her hand, in a welter of blood. The Troll screamed and collapsed.

That was the final straw. The collective nerve of the Trolls broke. Moaning and gibbering in terror, they ran, the glow of Superadine-induced rage fading from their eyes.

Finally, all was quiet, except for the quiet rattle of the news helicopter overhead. The last of the Trolls disappeared over the horizon. Mother and daughter were left alone with the unconscious Supa-Troll.

Only then did Cindy look at her bloodied gloved hand, and down at her costume. She threw away the ear, grimacing with disgust. “Oh, fiddlesticks! I’ll have to wash this out.”

Barbara sagged. She felt dizzy and overwhelmed. In a thrice Cindy was at her side. Her strong, pretty Cindy was there, holding her up, preventing alanya rus escort her from collapsing. Cindy’s eyes were shining with mingled pride and concern.

“You did it, Mom! You beat that monster! Are you alright, Mom? Come on, let’s get to safety. We need to leave the area and rest. You’ve earned it!”

No, honey, Barbara silently appended. You have.

She had won, indeed, and had overcome her private challenge – not to lose to the Supa-Troll. But the victory felt hollow.

Because she hadn’t won convincingly enough, there hadn’t been the predicted effect. Far from being able to cow the Trolls into submission and defuse the rave, she’d instead caused them to be galvanized and emboldened.

But thank goodness for Cindy – her daughter was nothing short of magnificent. And, as she closed her eyes and slipped gratefully into exhausted slumber, she was proud that the entire city would soon see it.

***

Cindy was hitting it off with her fellow Heroes.

They’d invited their new friends to visit their new base, and it had turned into an impromptu housewarming.

Barbara liked Fusionette – she insisted they, being her friends and fellow Heroes, called her Annette. Her vivacious personality was a close match with Cindy’s, and they seemed to be getting along really well. Her twin ponytails with blue highlights bounced in tandem with Cindy’s blonde one as they nodded and laughed at the same jokes.

She also thought well of the goateed young man, Faultline – Jim Temblor. He seemed reticent at times, but there was a certain caring light in his eyes that flared every time his gaze alighted on his girlfriend. Barbara could recognize a kind man when she saw one, and Jim Temblor was definitely one of the good guys.

She’d heard a little about his personal story, and she was glad, like many others in the city, that his father’s memory had been redeemed. Having been the victim of gross injustice herself, Barbara could sympathize with someone else whose very name had been unfairly dragged through the mud. But for the actions of fellow Heroes, the legacy of Jim Temblor’s father – William Temblor, the first Faultline – might have remained forever tarnished.

However, she thought with a small smile, he really needed better jokes in his repertoire. Some of his cringe-worthy puns were making Cindy groan almost as badly as when she was enduring a painful wrestling hold.

At the moment, as they sat in one of the recreation lounges having tea, Annette was regaling a wide-eyed Cindy with facts about the Rikti they, as members of Vanguard, had learned.

“Humans… like us? Just from a… a parallel Earth?” Cindy exclaimed in shock. Barbara had heard something to that effect a long time ago, but she hadn’t paid it much attention. After the war, all she had been concerned with was aiding in the reconstruction of the city… and the rebuilding of her own life. But it was fascinating, nonetheless, to have it verified by Vanguard members.

She grew sad. So many lives lost, so many comrades hurt or dead… simply because a maniacal arch-villain pulled the strings behind the scenes and pit one Earth against another, for unfathomable reasons.

Was it all futile, what heroes like her and her dear departed friends tried to do? When they defeated enemies, did their victories mean anything?

“Yes, I have a nuclear fusion reactor for a heart!” Annette’s sudden declaration jolted Barbara from her melancholic reverie. The topic of conversation had clearly shifted while she wasn’t paying attention.

Cindy squealed in excitement. “So, do you have, like, a heartbeat?”

“Nope! Feel it for yourself!” So saying, Annette grab Cindy’s hand, and planted Cindy’s palm right in the middle of her chest.

Jim seemed to be the victim of a sudden coughing fit, as Cindy’s eyes widened. “Mom, it’s true! I feel this… vibration and warmth, but there’s no heartbeat!”

“That’s right,” Michelle said, grinning widely at Jim’s discomfiture, “Annette here and 89 other children were born in the same year, with that same mutation. They all got different powers though.”

“I like mine just fine!” Annette declared. “I just love blasting enemies to bits!”

“And flying too,” Cindy said, a little enviously. “It must feel great to fly!”

“Well, it must feel great to be ten times stronger than a normal person,” Annette said, poking at Cindy’s upper arms. “Ow! I stubbed my finger! Gosh, Jim, she’s rock hard – come feel this! Make a muscle, Cindy! Wow, I wonder if you or your mother could match Doc Delilah for strength. How did you get this buff?” she gushed, squeezing Cindy’s flexed biceps with both hands. Jim had not taken her up on her invitation, though – he appeared to be sipping his tea with ferocious concentration.

“I’m as strong as my mom made me!” Cindy stated proudly, as she so often did.

“I work out a bit too – and when Jim and I need to get places, it’s always an extra workout for me. You saw, right? I pick him up and we fly together.”

“Mm, not bad,” Cindy laughed, and obligingly squeezed Annette’s flexed arms, gently. Meanwhile, Jim appeared to have taken up the art of tea-leaf divination, though from time to time his eyes would involuntarily flick upwards at the two superheroines comparing muscles.

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