A Superheroine 4th of July

A Superheroine 4th of July

Author's Note: a little holiday-themed smut. As you might imagine given the nature of this particular holiday, this story partakes in quite a bit of rub-your-face-in-it sort of nationalist posturing. As is typical for my stories in this area, no larger geopolitical point or what have you is intended by what is being done by or to various flag-clad characters - it's just a superheroine-porn thing.

Walking slowly along the teeming boardwalk, Alpha Angel grimaced. Her pink hair shone around her golden headband, as she slowly shook her head.

"By all that is just and sacred, the Fourth of July should by rights be my favorite holiday..." she said to herself. She took another step, her rounded haunches swaying slowly back and forth in her skimpy red-and-white striped bikini bottom, beneath the hem of her blue star-decorated jacket. Shaking her noble head, she heaved a dismal sigh. "It's just too bad that I just can't enjoy it," she said. "Because - everyone else is always too busy enjoying it first!"

"Woooo!" one drunken frat-boy promptly hooted from the edge of the teeming boardwalk just beside her, before folding over the railing and decorating his sandals with vomit. He appeared to be wearing an American-Flag-themed T-shirt - although it was difficult to tell, given how rapidly it was being covered by his lunch.

"Show us your tits!" his pot-bellied fellow said, hanging on to his shuddering comrade and, distracted by Alpha Angel's huge hooters, apparently oblivious to his distress. But, when the patriotically-clad superheroine turned and shot him a dirty glare, he promptly yelped back and ducked back behind his still lunch-unloading chum - as if seeking safety in the lee of the stream of spewing vomit.

For avoiding the vain superheroine's ire, it was a decent enough tactic - but he needn't have bothered. Though under normal circumstances such public drunkenness and lewdness would have earned them a swift trip to the drunk tank courtesy of her sleek yet supernaturally mighty physique, today there were far too many such offenders for her to deal with such minor insurrections personally. Instead, turning to face forward again, she had no choice but to saunter onwards - through a sea of similarly publically-drunken revelers. As she put one mighty thigh in front of the other, Betty Rose just had to hope the Beachport P.D. could get the most unruly off the streets, while she continued to use her imposing image to maintain order.

As the sun slowly started to set upon the shoreline of Beachport, all up and down it, all around the patrolling superheroine, a massive sea of drunken merry-makers whooped and jostled. They fought one another for the best spots to park their coolers, lawn chairs, and keisters, in preparation for the coming fireworks. On the streets along the harbor the traffic was a perpetual snarl, full of honking horns and screamed insults. Occasional thunders of miss-prepped illegal fireworks caused screams of pleasure, and terror.

The Beachport police were overloaded, meaning the city's famous crew of superheroines, the Aegis Host, had to pull in the slack. Valiant Valkyrie, Betty knew, had her hands more than full downtown, and Daring Diva and her cohort were handling the club scene. Alpha Angel herself had volunteered to take the shoreline, with its prime views of the impending harbor fireworks show - and despite the glory of her post was already regretting it. Already she had had to break up four fights between drunken low-lifes, stop one attempt by a gang of ne'er-do-wells to roll up on an innocent family's picnic, and confiscate a gigantic sky-rocket from some seriously impaired revelers that, if lit, would have shot straight into a packed group of eighth-graders. Her nerves were frazzled and she was in no mood to brook anyone's bullshit.

So naturally that was exactly when bullshit came looking. Her first clue was a sudden stir of commotion behind her sauntering vertically-striped ass. Existing in a universe made entirely of commotion, she thought little of it. Then, suddenly, the air behind her grew calm. Now that was very unusual.

"Hey, Alpha Angel!" a brash, fetchingly-accented female voice suddenly called out from behind her. "How you say... long time, no see!"

Alpha Angel's eyes widened. She recognized that voice, if only dimly.

"No..." she said. "It can't be..." She turned. It was.

Before her, stretching across the boardwalk about a dozen yards away, stood five gorgeous heroines each in a different national flag bikini. Centering on the leader, Alpha Angel's eyes widened and her jaw dropped in recognition. "Princess Peace!" she gasped. "What are you doing here?!"

The towering blonde in the center smirked, her gorgeous face twisting smugly. She was such a tall and irritatingly perfect, statuesque blonde, Alpha Angel might have mistaken her for her own frenemy-and-leader Valiant Valkyrie - save that her model-perfect features smirked at her from behind a Swedish Flag mask. The tallest of the five, her eyes were level with Alpha Angel's forehead. Behind her and stretched out to either side were the muscular, voluptuous, and defiantly well-presented bodies of the Pax Vexillatis, or Pax Vex for short. A Latin phrase that roughly translated as 'Battalion of Peace,' or so Alpha Angel hazily remembered.

"We heard you American heroines had more than you could handle today, so we decided to fly over and lend a hand," Princess Peace said, her luscious lips smiling smugly. Below, her spectacular curves strained proudly against her skimpy bikini, both her thong panties and each of her huge straining cups emblazoned with a golden Swedish cross upon a scanty field of blue. Above her face, like all four of her fellows, she wore a glittering and diamond-studded tiara upon her regal brow.

"Perhaps we can show you a better way of doing things," Princess Unity cooed. Standing to Princess Peace's right, the Teutonic heroine's sleek and slender body nevertheless equally strained against the confines of its equally skimpy German Flag bikini. Running a hand through her honey-blonde hair, Princess Unity put both hands upon her rounded hips and smirked. "Less barbaric and violent than your usual methods perhaps, no?" she cooed.

"We could hardly make things worse," Princess Defiant purred. Standing at the extreme right end of the Pax Vexs' line, she smirked beneath the spill of her flaming red hair, her own voluptuous curves straining against the confines of a Union Jack bikini. Lifting a gloved hand from her own fertile curvy hip, she drew a single finger in a circle to take in the drunken, braying... yet fearfully distant crowds. "Your culture seems to have completely gone to shit since you kicked us out, after all," she cooed teasingly, her smirk broadening.

"Oui!" Princess Glory purred, from just behind and just to the left of Princess Peace's sculpted shoulder. Her own gorgeous face smirked, from beneath a spill of chocolate-brown hair. Her tight, athletic, yet curvy body was clad in a red-white-and-blue tricolor bikini - yet she had a glittering fleur-de-lis signet ring upon her finger. It was rumored that all of the Pax Vex had been genetically engineered from royal bloodlines, the better to enhance the mystic artifacts that gave them their powers, but supposedly Princess Glory took particular pride in her guillotined heritage. Casting her eyes about, the Princess's smirk broadened behind her matching mask. "Every time I come this place looks less and less like a civilized nation, and more like, how you say, a third-world shit-hole!" she taunted the American heroine, her smirk broadening.

Meanwhile, at the very far end of the line, beyond Princess Glory, the shortest, bustiest, and most buxom of the Pax Vex said nothing. Princess Honor, her staggering endowments straining gloriously against the vast yet inadequate cups of her red, white and green bra, and her bikini panties. To reflect her own proud heritage, she had added a golden eagle atop her green-white-and-red tricolor, tipping both of her enormous jiggling jugs as well as front and center upon her matching skimpy thong. Rather than make any witty comments, she merely turned to look at the array of drunken Americans panting and staring at her shapely scantily-clad ass, sniffed disdainfully and, hands upon her fertile and extremely round hips, turned her raven-haired head back around to glare at the American heroine disdainfully.

All five of the mighty Pax Vexes wore gleaming crowns upon their gorgeous brows, all but confirming the rumors of their engineered royal lineage, and boots and gloves to match their skimpy flag-themed bikinis. Each, upon a gloved finger perched archly upon her glowing hip, also bore a signet ring - the crest of which seemed to glimmer, slightly, with eldritch energy.

Alpha Angel regarded the five of them in visible surprise, her eyebrows high. Then, slowly, turning fully to face them, she placed her hands upon her own red-and-white-striped bikini-bottom-clad hips, and let a matching smirk slowly spread across her full red lips.

'What the hell?' she thought, to herself. 'I could use some amusement.'

"Sure," Alpha Angel purred to the five Princesses, keeping her outward expression as controlled but haughty as theirs. Lifting one star-spangled sleeve of her blue jacket, which resembled that of a military dress uniform in cut, she pointed one finger back up over her shoulder. "As a matter of fact, I know just the place," she said.

Behind the proud, patriotically-clad American superheroine towered the looming edifice of Forest Heights Park. A rocky bluff protruding into Beachport bay like... well, like something long and rock-hard, its craggy edifice was covered in trees and brush cut by only a few shadowy winding trails. On a normal day the park and nature preserve was quiet and populated mostly by yuppie joggers and families with strollers. But on the Fourth its prime position for viewing the harbor fireworks and its concealing shrubbery made it a notorious nest for druggies, gang-bangers, and other assorted undesirables -- to the point that even the city's superheroines marched their scantily-clad asses in at their own peril.

"Why don't you ladies take the bluffs up there?" she cooed. "I haven't had a heroine to spare on that sector for quite some time, so there are certain to be some ne'er-do-well skulls that need cracking by this point."

Princess Peace looked up at the verdant and tranquil-looking park, and smirked. "It would be our pleasure," the golden-haired Swedish heroine purred.

"We will show you weak and inferior American superheroines how this is done," Princess Honor said, in a lilting Italian accent, hands upon her hips to either side of her straining golden-Eagle-emblazoned bikini panty.

Turning her head, Princess Defiant noticed a couple of extremely fat and drunken revelers, both wearing Irish-American garb, making rude gestures in her direction - and just shook her head and smirked. "Yes," she cooed. Hands upon her Union-Jack-bikini-clad hips, she turned back to Alpha Angel. "Why there are probably nothing up there but a few rowdy lads waiting to be herded into line - like those couple of plastic paddies over there!"

Alpha Angel frowned, and tilted her head slightly. "No..." she said slowly, scratching her head in confusion. "The Plastic Paddy isn't up there, he's helping to keep order near the University. But we're quite glad of his help, regardless."

Princess Defiant seemed momentarily befuddled by this. But then, with a flick of her hair, she smiled and seemed to take it in stride.

"Whatever," she said. "Either way, all you need to know is - prepare to see how this 'superheroine' thing is really done!" She gestured up and down her own scantily-clad body, as if showing where her rival's gaze should be directed.

Meanwhile, Princess Unity and Princess Glory didn't say a word. Both simply lifted their regal chins, and nodded their smirking agreement.

Alpha Angel shrugged, and then grinned - a big toothy grin so broad, it appeared worthy of Mount Rushmore itself. Stepping to one side amidst the crowds of her patriotic drunken countrymen - all of whom were still ogling the European arrivals with great if slightly skittish interest - she gestured invitingly up towards the bluffs. "Be my guest," she purred, her other hand upon the hip of her swooping red-and-white-stripe decorated panty. "We are ready to learn anything you have to teach us!"

"That is good!" Princess Unity said. The rest of the Pax Vex laughed along with her joke. Then, breaking from a row into a line, they sauntered up past Alpha Angel and towards the waiting bluffs.

As she passed the American heroine Princess Peace, at the head of their busty bikini-clad column, paused for a moment and, turning, smirked into her face. The two mutually defiant heroines stood so close, their flaring fertile hips nearly brushed.

"Prepare yourself, Alpha Angel," the Swedish superheroine purred. "Once your craven citizens see how much better we maintain order on your nation's birthday than you do, you may never be able to wear that brave little bikini in public ever again."

Finger twitching upon the hips of her red-and-white-striped panties, Alpha Angel smirked right back. 'I bet you'd like to see that, wouldn't you, you rug-munching Euro slut?' she thought, behind the impeccably calm surface of her masked face. Though moments later, she could not keep her own eyes from darting down, to get a brief taste of the Princess's enormous, jiggling, Swedish-Flag-cup-squeezed cleavage. She gasped slightly, and very briefly licked her lips. Then her eyes darted back up, and returned up to the smirking blonde's face.

"Be careful, Princess," Alpha Angel cooed, politely. Reaching out an extended finger, under the cover of correcting her she tapped it, briefly, to the very tip of the blonde heroine's gargantuan left boob. "You may find Beachport criminals..." She licked her lips, considering her phrasing. "A little better armed than the sort you're used to dealing with," she said. Her fertile hips squirmed back and forth, and she felt a sudden rush of moisture between her thighs, as she briefly imagined the sort of impressive weaponry she had in mind.

Princess Peace didn't get it, nor did any of the other Pax Vexes.

"Yes, we've heard about that," Princess Unity cooed, from her place just behind Princess Peace.

"Mere mortal weapony isn't anything we can't handle," Princess Glory purred, from behind her.

Alpha Angel smiled, and shrugged. "Very well," she said, and lifted her arm invitingly towards the bluffs. Her smile grew ever so slightly broader. "Just don't say I didn't warn you!" she added.

Chins lifted high, and feet marching higher, the boot-and-bikini clad heroines marched on past her, and to the winding stone staircase that had been carved in the side of the bluffs. Ascending it, they rapidly elevated themselves above the whooping crowds down by the shore, and left Alpha Angel's star-spangled form far below their haughtily-swaying and flag-pantied behinds. At last, reaching the top, they found themselves with their backs to the forested park, and the decayed waterfront and beer-can-strewn beaches of Beachport stretched out before them.

Princess Honor wrinkled her nose, and frowned as, alongside her sisters, she surveyed the view. "What a disgusting pit," she declared.

"Agreed," Princess Peace said. She whirled about. "Come girls," she said. She continued to speak English, despite being away from Alpha Angel, as did the others, as it was their best mutual language.

Turning as one, forming a long and jiggling and smugly smirking wedge, the Pax Vexes strutted on into the leafy park, down a wide, twisting, and shade-dappled path. As they marched a lone butterfly flitted out of the verdant foliage, and fluttered past their bouncing and enormous cleavage, to vanish back into the forest. Princess Peace watched it fly past, and rolled her eyes.

"I don't know what that American heroine was thinking, assigning superior beings such as we to a meaningless sector like this," she said. "But we'll show her anyways. When our superior tactics and more advanced methodologies make this a model zone amongst the bedlam, the world will see how outdated she and her fellow backwards American heroines really are!"

As the gorgeous Euro-heroines strutted forward, bodies moving like they were on the catwalk, from the bushes to either side of the trail an awed junkie's face or three occasionally peeked out, gulped, and vanished once more. The marching Princesses paid them no mind. Rounding a bend in the trail, the five European heroines suddenly found themselves face to face with a pair of trashy lip-ring-decorated American sluts and a pair of greasy-looking ne'er-do-wells. It looked like a deal was being made. What for what it was impossible to say, but one of the greasy thugs was in the process of pulling open his jacket and reaching inside, while one of the sluts had her hand on the zipper of her jeans and was halfway through pulling it down. All four turned and gaped in shock at the jiggling wall of European-flag-decorated flesh that had suddenly appeared before them.

Putting her hands upon her hips, Princess Peace smirked. "Do go on," she purred. "We weren't interrupting anything... illegal, were we?"

The four startled Americans gulped in shock. Then, as if on cue, both pairs turned and fled in opposite directions into the brush. The five European heroines did not stir a single sculpted panty-clad muscle to chase them, but simply watched them go. Then, smirking haughtily, they continued marching onwards.

"Hmmph," Princess Defiant said, smugly. "See? At the mere sight of us the yank degenerates flee. For all their reputation for violence and unruliness, I dare say American crims may yet prove the easiest we have ever had to face!"

The five flag-panty-clad lasses laughed, and then continued marching onwards through the dappled brush. In the distance, the whooping of a city's worth of revelers echoed, accompanied by the occasional crackling bang of an early and illegal firework. Rounding another bend in the trail, the royal heroines once more came face to face with a group of huddled Americans. Two groups, actually -- a band of white thugs in leather jackets and covered in Aryan Nation tattoos, and a band of scuzzy-looking boys in frat-rat shirts. This time the deal was obvious -- the thugs' leader had out a large bag of white powder, while the frat boys' spokesman was in the midst of counting out a large wad of bills.

"Shouldn't you boys be playing with sparklers instead?" Princess Peace purred, as both groups whirled to gape at her and her voluptuous scantily-clad comrades in shock.

Princess Unity took one look at the bikers and, folding her arms beneath her large Teutonic tits, shook her head and sighed like a disappointed mother. "Is this really how you filthy yanks choose to celebrate your nation's day?" she said.

Gulping in shock, the frat boys promptly whirled and fled. But this time the thugs stood their ground. Some of the rank and file did grow skittish and shrank back at the sight of the unfamiliar wall of heroines. But their leader, his face twisting in fury to be left holding the bag and with the money having fled, barked out something furious yet unintelligible and they swiftly regrew their cojones and formed up into a macho-postured line to either side of him.

"I don't know what you stupid sluts are thinking," the leader of the gang said, snarling. "But here in Beachport, the dollar is king. And no super-cunt, no matter what stupid flag she got on her butt, is gonna interrupt a deal like that without paying the price!"

"Oh?" Princess Peace purred, smirking smugly. Beside her, her buxom comrades formed up into a defiant wall of jiggling scantily-clad flesh, hands going to their buxom flag-pantied hips. "And what is this price you expect to exact from us?" she asked him.