Action time
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 7
by
copier
· original author:
an188
The alley still crackled with ozone and the faint, sweet scent of their electric-blue-green release. Glitz and Glam stood there, daphne-blue skin glistening under the flickering streetlamp, silver hair cascading in metallic waves down their backs, shredded outfits hanging off newly sculpted bodies like battle flags. Six feet of shredded, vascular, bikini-model perfection—abs like carved marble, thighs that could crack walnuts, breasts so full and perky they defied physics. The lightning tattoos on their upper arms pulsed softly, electric blue against electric skin.
Glitz flexed one arm experimentally, watching the bicep peak with vascular detail. “We’re doing this. Right fucking now.” Her voice was thick with post-orgasm haze and manic glee. “We’re goddesses. Let’s rob like goddesses.”
Glam’s lips curled into that signature smug, snobby smile. “Obviously.” She crouched low, silver ponytail swaying, then leapt.
Electric currents snapped along her shapely legs—blue-white arcs dancing over thick quads and diamond calves. She soared effortlessly, clearing the second-story height in one graceful arc, landing lightly on the narrow window ledge with a dancer’s poise. She glanced down at Glitz, one electric-blue eye glinting. “Try not to embarrass me, darling. Some of us have finesse.”
Glitz grinned wide, black lips stretching. “Watch this.” Without a second thought she bent her knees and jumped.
The super strength kicked in harder than intended. Electric currents exploded around her legs—brighter, wilder than Glam’s. Her body rocketed upward like a missile. Too fast. Too hard. She missed the window entirely and slammed shoulder-first into the brick wall beside it.
CRASH
The wall gave way like wet cardboard. Glitz’s solid, unbreakable body punched straight through, showering the room inside with bricks and dust. She landed on her back in the middle of the office, floorboards splintering under her weight. Two perfect, deep dimples cratered the wood exactly where her massive, gravity-defying breasts had slammed down.
Glam’s smug expression vanished. “Glitz!”
She panicked—just a little—and dove through the window after her sister. The frame was far too narrow for her new, voluptuous proportions. Her shoulders caught. She grunted, pushed harder—and the entire window frame buckled outward with a metallic screech, bricks crumbling as her body forced the opening wider. She tumbled inside in a shower of debris, landing in a crouch beside Glitz.
Glitz pushed herself up, silver hair falling in her face, completely naked now except for a few clinging scraps of dark-navy fabric. “Ow—wait. No ow.” She patted her ribs, then her breasts, then her abs. “I don’t feel anything. Like… nothing.”
Glam stood, brushing dust off her own ruined outfit—her jester skirt now little more than a belt, heart cutout stretched obscenely over swollen tits. She stared at the two perfect breast-shaped craters in the floor. “We need to learn to control these bodies before we accidentally level the city. This is officially no longer a clean job.”
Glitz looked down at the dimples, then cupped her own breasts with both hands and lifted them, smirking. “Look at these babies. They literally imprinted the floor. That’s hot.”
“Stop joking,” Glam snapped, though her nipples visibly stiffened under the remnants of her crop top. “Grab the cash. Move.”
They stormed the room like overexcited toddlers with sledgehammers.
Glitz snatched a wooden chair to move it aside—SNAP—the legs shattered in her grip. She dropped the pieces with a sheepish “Oops.” Glam yanked open a filing cabinet drawer—metal screeched and crumpled like tinfoil. Desks buckled when they leaned on them. A lamp post toppled when Glitz brushed past it. Every touch was too much. Excitement made their strength flare uncontrollably.
They found loose stacks of bills on a side table—twenties, fifties, hundreds. Glitz swept them into a canvas duffel with one swipe, accidentally tearing the zipper off. “Score!”
They gave up stealth entirely. Drawers ripped out, shelves collapsed, a computer monitor exploded when Glam flicked it aside too hard. “Where’s the real stash?” Glitz growled.
They found it: a massive steel safe, wardrobe-sized, bolted to the concrete floor with industrial anchors. Thick. Heavy. Impenetrable.
Glitz cracked her knuckles, silver hair swaying. “My turn.” She drew back and punched the door with everything she had.
CLANG
The safe shuddered but held. A dent the size of a dinner plate appeared.
She punched again. And again. Each hit rang like a gong, the safe rocking on its bolts but refusing to open. Glitz snarled, growing frustrated—and hornier with every failed blow.
Glam stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “Brute force isn’t working. Use your brain.” She extended one long electric-blue talon and pressed it to the seam of the door. A thin, searing arc of electricity leapt out—Electrical Cutting. The metal glowed cherry-red, slowly melting along the edge.
Glitz, meanwhile, rummaged through the electrical cabinet on the wall, looking for keys or fuses. Her delicate hand brushed live wires. Sparks jumped eagerly into her palm. She yelped—“Shit!”—and yanked back. The cabinet erupted in flame. Flames licked up the wall in seconds.
“Glam! Fire!” Glitz shouted, snatching the duffel before it could catch.
Glam cursed under her breath. “Of course you set the place on fire.” She gripped the half-melted safe door with both hands, planted her feet, and pulled.
Metal screamed. Anchors tore free from concrete. The door ripped open like wet paper.
Bundles of cash spilled out—bricks of hundreds, fifties, twenties. Glam hurled them at Glitz, who stuffed them into the bag with manic speed. The room was an inferno now—flames roaring up the walls, smoke billowing.
“Can’t take the stairs,” Glitz coughed, peering at the firewall blocking the hallway.
Glam raised one perfect silver eyebrow. “Maybe we’re fireproof now.”
Glitz grinned. “You volunteering to test it, sis?”
“Pass.” Glam jerked her head toward the window. Outside, a crowd had gathered—phones up, sirens already wailing in the distance.
“Fuck,” Glitz muttered. “We can’t just stroll out.”
They looked at the back wall—the one facing the dark alley and neighboring rooftops.
Glitz smirked. “Through the wall it is. Like superheroes.”
Glam rolled her eyes but stepped close. “For luck.”
They kissed—deep, filthy, desperate. Electric currents arced between their lips, saliva stretching in bright blue-green ropes as they pulled apart.
Hands linked, they sprinted.
BOOM
Concrete exploded outward in a cloud of dust. They felt nothing—no pain, no resistance. Their bodies punched clean through the wall like it was cardboard, silver hair whipping, daphne-blue skin gleaming.
They landed on the neighboring roof, rolled in perfect acrobatic sync, and leapt again. Roof to roof—Electrically Enhanced Jumps launching them twenty, thirty feet at a time. Their old trapeze instincts took over: flips, twists, perfect landings despite superhuman speed and strength. They bounded across Havenridge’s skyline like twin silver-blue comets, laughing breathlessly the whole way.
Eventually they dropped into the abandoned alley where their beat-up hatchback waited. Tires squealed. They vanished into the night.
Later—after a frantic shower in their cheap hotel room—the sisters lounged in matching silk robes the color of midnight. Glitz sprawled sensually across the sagging couch, one long leg draped over the armrest, silver hair fanned out, idly flexing her bicep and watching the vascular lines dance under daphne-blue skin. Glam reclined in the armchair opposite, legs crossed, robe gaping just enough to show the curve of one perfect breast, examining the glowing lightning tattoo on her upper arm with cool fascination.
The duffel bag of cash sat between them like a trophy—easily thirty grand, maybe more.
Glitz traced her tattoo with one electric-blue nail. “Why lightning bolts? Why us?”
Glam shrugged, though her eyes were sharp. “Doesn’t matter. We’re better now. Stronger. Hotter. Richer.”
The ancient TV flickered on low. A local news anchor appeared, voice calm: “Investigators have ruled the Havenridge Currency Exchange fire an electrical failure—likely caused by outdated wiring in the transformer unit. No evidence of foul play at this time. The owner reports significant cash loss but is thankful no one was injured…”
Glitz exhaled slowly. “They think it was an accident.”
Glam’s lips curved. “No one knows it was us.”
They looked at each other—smug, horny, invincible.
What do the Glam Sisters do next?
1. They decide to better understand exactly what happened to them before they start exploiting their new bodies and superpowers for profit—researching lightning accidents, urban legends about Havenridge, or even hunting down the source of the storm that changed them.
2. Feeling confident that no one connects them to the robbery, they immediately plan their next break-in—something bigger, flashier, using their full arsenal of electric powers and unbreakable bodies to hit a high-security target and make real money.
Glitz flexed one arm experimentally, watching the bicep peak with vascular detail. “We’re doing this. Right fucking now.” Her voice was thick with post-orgasm haze and manic glee. “We’re goddesses. Let’s rob like goddesses.”
Glam’s lips curled into that signature smug, snobby smile. “Obviously.” She crouched low, silver ponytail swaying, then leapt.
Electric currents snapped along her shapely legs—blue-white arcs dancing over thick quads and diamond calves. She soared effortlessly, clearing the second-story height in one graceful arc, landing lightly on the narrow window ledge with a dancer’s poise. She glanced down at Glitz, one electric-blue eye glinting. “Try not to embarrass me, darling. Some of us have finesse.”
Glitz grinned wide, black lips stretching. “Watch this.” Without a second thought she bent her knees and jumped.
The super strength kicked in harder than intended. Electric currents exploded around her legs—brighter, wilder than Glam’s. Her body rocketed upward like a missile. Too fast. Too hard. She missed the window entirely and slammed shoulder-first into the brick wall beside it.
CRASH
The wall gave way like wet cardboard. Glitz’s solid, unbreakable body punched straight through, showering the room inside with bricks and dust. She landed on her back in the middle of the office, floorboards splintering under her weight. Two perfect, deep dimples cratered the wood exactly where her massive, gravity-defying breasts had slammed down.
Glam’s smug expression vanished. “Glitz!”
She panicked—just a little—and dove through the window after her sister. The frame was far too narrow for her new, voluptuous proportions. Her shoulders caught. She grunted, pushed harder—and the entire window frame buckled outward with a metallic screech, bricks crumbling as her body forced the opening wider. She tumbled inside in a shower of debris, landing in a crouch beside Glitz.
Glitz pushed herself up, silver hair falling in her face, completely naked now except for a few clinging scraps of dark-navy fabric. “Ow—wait. No ow.” She patted her ribs, then her breasts, then her abs. “I don’t feel anything. Like… nothing.”
Glam stood, brushing dust off her own ruined outfit—her jester skirt now little more than a belt, heart cutout stretched obscenely over swollen tits. She stared at the two perfect breast-shaped craters in the floor. “We need to learn to control these bodies before we accidentally level the city. This is officially no longer a clean job.”
Glitz looked down at the dimples, then cupped her own breasts with both hands and lifted them, smirking. “Look at these babies. They literally imprinted the floor. That’s hot.”
“Stop joking,” Glam snapped, though her nipples visibly stiffened under the remnants of her crop top. “Grab the cash. Move.”
They stormed the room like overexcited toddlers with sledgehammers.
Glitz snatched a wooden chair to move it aside—SNAP—the legs shattered in her grip. She dropped the pieces with a sheepish “Oops.” Glam yanked open a filing cabinet drawer—metal screeched and crumpled like tinfoil. Desks buckled when they leaned on them. A lamp post toppled when Glitz brushed past it. Every touch was too much. Excitement made their strength flare uncontrollably.
They found loose stacks of bills on a side table—twenties, fifties, hundreds. Glitz swept them into a canvas duffel with one swipe, accidentally tearing the zipper off. “Score!”
They gave up stealth entirely. Drawers ripped out, shelves collapsed, a computer monitor exploded when Glam flicked it aside too hard. “Where’s the real stash?” Glitz growled.
They found it: a massive steel safe, wardrobe-sized, bolted to the concrete floor with industrial anchors. Thick. Heavy. Impenetrable.
Glitz cracked her knuckles, silver hair swaying. “My turn.” She drew back and punched the door with everything she had.
CLANG
The safe shuddered but held. A dent the size of a dinner plate appeared.
She punched again. And again. Each hit rang like a gong, the safe rocking on its bolts but refusing to open. Glitz snarled, growing frustrated—and hornier with every failed blow.
Glam stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “Brute force isn’t working. Use your brain.” She extended one long electric-blue talon and pressed it to the seam of the door. A thin, searing arc of electricity leapt out—Electrical Cutting. The metal glowed cherry-red, slowly melting along the edge.
Glitz, meanwhile, rummaged through the electrical cabinet on the wall, looking for keys or fuses. Her delicate hand brushed live wires. Sparks jumped eagerly into her palm. She yelped—“Shit!”—and yanked back. The cabinet erupted in flame. Flames licked up the wall in seconds.
“Glam! Fire!” Glitz shouted, snatching the duffel before it could catch.
Glam cursed under her breath. “Of course you set the place on fire.” She gripped the half-melted safe door with both hands, planted her feet, and pulled.
Metal screamed. Anchors tore free from concrete. The door ripped open like wet paper.
Bundles of cash spilled out—bricks of hundreds, fifties, twenties. Glam hurled them at Glitz, who stuffed them into the bag with manic speed. The room was an inferno now—flames roaring up the walls, smoke billowing.
“Can’t take the stairs,” Glitz coughed, peering at the firewall blocking the hallway.
Glam raised one perfect silver eyebrow. “Maybe we’re fireproof now.”
Glitz grinned. “You volunteering to test it, sis?”
“Pass.” Glam jerked her head toward the window. Outside, a crowd had gathered—phones up, sirens already wailing in the distance.
“Fuck,” Glitz muttered. “We can’t just stroll out.”
They looked at the back wall—the one facing the dark alley and neighboring rooftops.
Glitz smirked. “Through the wall it is. Like superheroes.”
Glam rolled her eyes but stepped close. “For luck.”
They kissed—deep, filthy, desperate. Electric currents arced between their lips, saliva stretching in bright blue-green ropes as they pulled apart.
Hands linked, they sprinted.
BOOM
Concrete exploded outward in a cloud of dust. They felt nothing—no pain, no resistance. Their bodies punched clean through the wall like it was cardboard, silver hair whipping, daphne-blue skin gleaming.
They landed on the neighboring roof, rolled in perfect acrobatic sync, and leapt again. Roof to roof—Electrically Enhanced Jumps launching them twenty, thirty feet at a time. Their old trapeze instincts took over: flips, twists, perfect landings despite superhuman speed and strength. They bounded across Havenridge’s skyline like twin silver-blue comets, laughing breathlessly the whole way.
Eventually they dropped into the abandoned alley where their beat-up hatchback waited. Tires squealed. They vanished into the night.
Later—after a frantic shower in their cheap hotel room—the sisters lounged in matching silk robes the color of midnight. Glitz sprawled sensually across the sagging couch, one long leg draped over the armrest, silver hair fanned out, idly flexing her bicep and watching the vascular lines dance under daphne-blue skin. Glam reclined in the armchair opposite, legs crossed, robe gaping just enough to show the curve of one perfect breast, examining the glowing lightning tattoo on her upper arm with cool fascination.
The duffel bag of cash sat between them like a trophy—easily thirty grand, maybe more.
Glitz traced her tattoo with one electric-blue nail. “Why lightning bolts? Why us?”
Glam shrugged, though her eyes were sharp. “Doesn’t matter. We’re better now. Stronger. Hotter. Richer.”
The ancient TV flickered on low. A local news anchor appeared, voice calm: “Investigators have ruled the Havenridge Currency Exchange fire an electrical failure—likely caused by outdated wiring in the transformer unit. No evidence of foul play at this time. The owner reports significant cash loss but is thankful no one was injured…”
Glitz exhaled slowly. “They think it was an accident.”
Glam’s lips curved. “No one knows it was us.”
They looked at each other—smug, horny, invincible.
What do the Glam Sisters do next?
1. They decide to better understand exactly what happened to them before they start exploiting their new bodies and superpowers for profit—researching lightning accidents, urban legends about Havenridge, or even hunting down the source of the storm that changed them.
2. Feeling confident that no one connects them to the robbery, they immediately plan their next break-in—something bigger, flashier, using their full arsenal of electric powers and unbreakable bodies to hit a high-security target and make real money.
15 views
·
June 13
Log in to comment