Tomboy: The Big Leagues (Chapter 1) (Patreon)

Tomboy: The Big Leagues

FEM Fighters Super Heroines in Peril

By Don Ship

Chapter 1

Dallas, Texas, Friday, 1:35 AM…

“Shut up!” Kelly Kingsley cried, making her girlfriends squeal in delight. “You girls are crazy!”

The four of them walked toward campus. The brightly lit “Strip” lay two blocks behind them, and what a difference. The roads between the Strip, the small club district, and Taurus University, were dark and foreboding. Very scary compared to the Strip which was full of exuberant college students, on brightly lit streets, neon signs flashing above.

Kelly, Jenny, Ana-Marie, and Whitney clattered down the sidewalk, hanging onto each other, and giggling at each others’ antics back in Comet Club. After only a week of classes, those three young women felt like lifelong friends to Kelly.

“My favorite,” Jenny cried. “Was when Kelly stood up to go dance with Greg, and her bigass boobs brushed across Robbie’s face.” She screamed. “Oh my God, Kelly didn’t even notice, but Robbie looked like he died and went to heaven!”

“I think he creamed his undies,” Ana-Marie cried. “Oh my God. Oh my God, it was so fucking awesome.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault,” Kelly said. She cupped and shook her large, barely contained tits. “Do you girls even care how traumatized I was when these puppies grew in? They are a curse, I say!”

“I should be so cursed,” Jenny said. “Those things are constantly in everyone’s face. I even got Kelly titted tonight.”

Kelly’s jaw dropped. She didn’t remember rubbing her tits in anyone’s face, especially not Jenny’s. But the club was packed, and it was impossible to move two inches without rubbing against five other people.

Movement above pulled Kelly’s eyes up. Two scantily clad women flew by, heading toward the Strip. They wore red, white, and blue, so Kelly assumed it was Lady Texas and her sidekick Texas Girl. Seeing them gave her that familiar ache in her bones, a desire to join them in their nightly fight for Truth, Justice, and the American Way.

“Oh my God,” Ana-Marie said, pulling Kelly back to reality. “I have Post Traumatic Tits Disorder after Kelly whacked me in the face TWICE tonight.”

“In my defense, I was pushed both times,” Kelly cried. “It was an accident.”

A black sedan came up behind them on the street. Kelly glanced back at it when she heard the driver let up on the gas. The car slowed, and four male faces stared at the four young coeds. The girls stood taller and walked confidently under their scrutiny. The driver hit the brakes, and Kelly tensed up. But then a police car came up behind the sedan and flashed its headlights.

The sedan quickly left.

“Are you ladies okay?” the cop riding shotgun said. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”

Kelly was only eighteen. A freshman. Jenny was also a freshman, while Whitney was a 19 year old sophomore and Ana-Maria was a 20 year old junior. None of the coeds were old enough to drink, but Kelly wasn’t sure how the cop could know that.

“No, officer,” Kelly said. “My friends can’t walk straight because they’re laughing so hard at my misfortunes in the club tonight. I might need new friends.”

“Hey!” Whitney cried. “We love you. Don’t be mean.”

“Well, take care,” the cop said, and the squad car drove away.

“No, come back and handcuff me,” Jenny cried. “Momma wanna have a good time tonight.”

“Oh my God!” Ana-Marie cried. “You are so bad!”

And that’s how it went all the way back to campus, where the girls split up to go to their various sorority houses and dormitories. Kelly wasn’t pledged, and she had a room in Jester Dorm, home of the school’s athletes thanks to her softball scholarship.

“I love AC so much!” Kelly cried once safely locked inside her dorm room. The AC was cranking hard in that late August Texas heat. “I can’t believe how hot it is at 2 o’clock in the morning here.”

Kelly paused and looked around her tiny dorm room. It was less than half the size of her childhood bedroom back in Ohio, but it was all hers alone. No roommate, thanks to her scholarship. She gave up a queen-sized bed back home for a twin-sized, but she had her own tiny bathroom. No bathtub, but she was a shower kind of girl. The closet proved too small, as well. The desk was built into the wall, and she didn’t have a TV. Yet. Nothing to do in her room but study and sleep.

Her bed looked pristine. She made it every morning, seven days a week. It also served as her couch when friends came over. Kelly considered going to bed. She had softball practice at 10 o’clock the next morning. But she couldn’t stop thinking about that pair of super heroines she spotted.

She smiled, biting her lip. Should she? “Let’s see someone stop me.”

It only took a moment to strip off her tight, sexy dancewear. That dress was half-again too skimpy. It barely contained her large, firm tits, hugged every dangerous curve of her body, and the hemline only reached her upper thighs. The fabric was so thin she couldn’t wear any kind of underwear. Yeah, she got a lot of propositions that night, not all of them were for a dance.

Kelly pulled on a pair of cut-off daisy duke shorts, a red tank top, and then slipped on a pair of white sneakers. Then she grabbed a black gym bag and headed out. There was a 24/7 gym on campus, so she hoped anyone that spotted her would just assume she was heading out for a workout. She did turn in that direction, but slipped off the sidewalk before she made it halfway.

The busty blonde changed in the dark nightshadows behind some overgrown shrubs. She replaced her tank top with a white spandex sports bra that showed a lot of cleavage yet provided a remarkable amount of support. She kept the daisy dukes on, but replaced the sneakers with red and white, high-top Converse basketball shoes. A blue mask covered the upper half of her face, held on by Spirit Gum glue. And then she finished out her “costume” with red, fingerless batting gloves and a red and white baseball cap. Her ponytail fit through the back of the cap.

Kelly then armed herself for a night of meting justice: baseball bat and a utility belt lined with pouches containing baseballs, handcuffs, and a pair of brass knuckles.

“Oh crap, I forgot to put on my pantyhose,” she whispered. “Doesn’t matter. It’s too hot for that anyway.”

Sticking to the nightshadows, Kelly slipped through campus on her way toward the Strip. That dark sedan on the way home worried her. Were the men just out cruising for a good time? Or did they have more sinister plans? Two young coeds had already gone missing, and the first week of classes just ended!

The police and university said they’d just run off with boys or something stupid like that. Kelly couldn’t imagine ditching college for a guy after all the time and effort it took just to get into college. Who would throw their future away like that?

“I’m making it my mission this semester to ensure everyone makes it home safe and sound,” she whispered. “I need a super heroine name.”

Her first instinct was to call herself “Blonde Justice.” But there was a good chance the media, and bad guys, would trace that name back to her hometown. And since she was the only person to move from that town to Dallas in the last few weeks, it might not be too hard to identify her.

“Is that the same car?”

Kelly stopped and dropped to a knee. A single coed practically danced down the sidewalk, heading toward campus. A black sedan was coming up behind her, and slowing down. She could just make out four men inside. The redheaded coed was clueless to the danger. Kelly tensed up as the car came to a stop.

The redhead glanced over just in time to see two men coming at her in a rush. Kelly took off running at them at the same time. The coed squeaked, dropping her purse and phone as she stumbled back.

“Be quiet, girl,” one of the men snarled, slapping a hand over the coed’s mouth. “And you won’t get hurt.”

The two men started dragging the struggling girl toward the car. Kelly arrived seconds later.

“She won’t be hurt,” Kelly shouted. “But you guys will be!”

They stopped to gawk back at her. Kelly leapt and lashed out with a kick. Her foot connected with the guy on the left’s face, sending him reeling away. The busty blonde landed behind the coed, grounded one foot, and kicked at the second would-be kidnapper. He blocked her kick aside, so she dropped low and swept the coed’s feet away, as well as the man’s feet.

“Run!” Kelly screamed at the coed.

The girl scooped up her phone and took off running. Kelly heard her calling 911.

The first man charged back into the fight. She ducked under his vicious haymaker swing, before she whacked him in the knee with her bat. Yeah, that dropped him like a rock. The man howled in agony, out of the fight. So she turned back to the other man, just in time to see him swinging at her head.

“Not tonight, jerk,” she snapped, bringing her bat around so that his fist slammed into it. She heard bones snapping. “Ouch! I bet that hurt almost as badly as being beat-up by a girl.”

Kelly brought the butt end of the bat up into his chin, and the man was out before he hit the ground. A police car rounded the car corner, and the black sedan raced away amid squealing tires and burning rubber. That first police car followed in pursuit, with a second squad car rolling up a moment later.

Two cops got out, pistols aimed at Kelly. “Halt! Hands up!”

“Hey, I’m the good guy here,” she said, but raised her hands.

“What are you guys doing?” the coed cried, running back. “I’m the one who called 911. That woman saved my life. Those men were trying to kidnap me.”

“What are you?” one of the cops asked. “Some kind of super heroine? What’s your heroine name? Is it registered? What team do you fight for?”

“Team?”

“Yes. What are you? FEM Fighter? A Sisterhood heroine?”

“She’s just a tomboy vigilante with dreams of grandeur,” the other cop said. “Cuff her. And rip that stupid mask off.”

Kelly backed away. This wasn’t going anyway close to what she’d expected. It wasn’t a crime to be a masked vigilante.

“Don’t you dare!”

A dark-haired woman came flying down to land between Kelly and the cops. She was an Amazon, or Alpha Meta woman. A woman born with Power. She looked taller than Kelly, but only because of her sky high stiletto thigh boots. Her body was spectacular, crowned with the most gorgeous dark brown hair.

A real live Sisterhood heroine! Kelly thought, breath catching.

Kelly’s heart raced. It was the legendary Lone Star! Her costume was a red, white, and blue leotard, that was printed to look like the Texas flag. A red mask, opera gloves, and thigh boots finished out her costume.

“You have no authority here, Lone Star,” the cop said. “We can arrest that tomboy wannabe if we want.”

Lone Star’s bright blue eyes narrowed, and she sensuously flowed into a classic super heroine stance: chin high, chest out, back slightly bowed, and hands on well-rounded hips. And then another heroine roared up upon a racing motorcycle. Kelly’s jaw dropped. A second super heroine, this time a FEM Fighter!

Oh my God! Another heroine, Tomboy thought. They are fighting crimes in the Big Leagues. I’m just in the minors.

“Hello, Vixen,” Lone Star said, and then indicated Kelly. “Is she one of yours?”

The newcomer proved to be a gorgeous Asian woman, with long straight black hair and full red lips. She paused to look Kelly over, before rubbing her full red lips together.

“What’s her name?” Vixen asked.

Vixen proved quite striking when she swung off her bike, and stepped around it to face Kelly. Her body proved just as curvy as Lone Star’s, though she looked a few inches shorter. The FEM Fighter wore a cobalt blue spandex leotard, with plunging neckline and high cut legs. Her opera gloves and thigh boots were the same shade of blue. A black FEM belt encircled her tiny waist, and black Power Bracers encircled her forearms.

“Tomboy,” Lone Star said.

Kelly wanted to object. That wasn’t her heroine name at all. She wanted something heroic sounding. But then Vixen caught her eyes. Their gaze was intense, and fear blossomed within Kelly’s heart. Was she about to be arrested, ending her heroine career before it started?

“Ah, Tomboy. We finally meet,” Vixen said, and hugged her. “What kind of mischief have you gotten into?”

“I… I stopped some men from kidnapping this student,” she said, indicating the coed.

“Before you received a FEM Belt and Power Bracers?” Vixen asked, acting shocked. She looked at Lone Star and shook her head. “Was I ever that crazy?”

“Yes. Maybe worse,” Lone Star said, and they grinned at each other. Then the Sisterhood heroine turned back to the cops. “Why haven’t you put these two kidnappers in cuffs? Do I need to call the Chief?”

That got them moving. More police arrived, and soon everyone was giving statements. The captured kidnappers were taken away, and the coed was given a ride home by the police. Before she knew it, Kelly found herself alone with the two heroines.

“That was stupid,” Vixen snapped. “Are you trying to get yourself killed, woman?”

“Don’t tell us your name, or address, or anything,” Lone Star said. “But here in Dallas the cops like to keep track of all super heroines, Tomboy.”

“Tomboy is not my heroine name.”

Lone Star gave her a curious look. “Shame. Tomboy rolls off the tongue nicely.”

“What is your heroine name?” Vixen asked.

“I haven’t figured that out so far,” she said.

The two heroines looked at each other again, and then shook their heads.

“Tell you what, Tomboy,” Vixen said. She pulled a card out of her left thigh boot, along with a pen. She wrote a number on the back of the card. “Go to the FEM Fighters website on the card, type in the code I just wrote on back, and it’ll take you to a secure section where you can chat with a rep, and maybe y’all can figure out if being a super heroine is really what you want, and if so, then you can apply to become a FEM Fighter.”

“Good luck,” Lone Star said, hugged and kissed her cheek.

“And go home before you get into trouble,” Vixen said, hugging and kissing her too. Then she smiled at Kelly. “I kind of hope you do join our team. Bye-bye.”