by Jay Manus

 

Janey and Elsa had taken about 60 minutes to travel the 250 miles or so from Sunnyvale to Folsom – or rather they would have taken 60 minutes if they hadn’t stopped for kicks along the way.  They had run hand-in-hand most of the way, with Janey in the lead.  She knew exactly where to go – follow the freeway here, a surface road there, leap over a small valley to rejoin a descending road where it ascended the other side.  Elsa was impressed by her partner’s competence. 

 

They’d had some fun along the way, of course.  As they climbed Altamont Pass they were greeted by the eerie spectacle of hundreds of giant electric power generating windmills topping the ragged ridge in both directions as far as their eyes could see.  These were not the lazy old grinders from rolling Dutch landscapes, but sleek metal propellers perched atop hundred-foot steel-alloy masts.  They weren’t all the same, either.  It looked like somebody was experimenting with different designs – which was in fact the case.  Some propellers had two blades, others had three or four.  Some blades were long and narrow, others short and fat.  Some of them were spinning madly in the howling wind, but others were rotating rather slowly, and still others were not moving at all.

 

It was the latter group that caught Janey’s interest.  “I wonder why those over there aren’t turning.  Maybe they’re stuck.”

 

Elsa was fascinated by the sight of so much wind power at work.  She appreciated this environmentally conscious experiment in energy production, and wished the government of her own country had the wherewithal to initiate a similar trial.  Still, she was amused by her friend’s suggestion.  “Hmmm, maybe you can get them unstuck,” she said.

 

Janey needed no further prodding.  She shot up the hill to the nearest stationary 4-blader, taking a flying leap at the last moment to catch her arm around the propeller’s hub.  “Wow,” she called down, “this is big!”  And indeed it was, surprisingly so.  The downward blade extended the full length of Jane’s body, and then some.

 

Thinking the best way to get it going again was to place her weight on one of the horizontal wings, she pulled herself up to stand on top of the pole.  Taking aim then, she jumped, and landed her crotch right near the end of the blade.  “Oooh, that felt good,” she said to no-one in particular.

 

But the blade didn’t budge.  She tried wiggling and bouncing, riding the thing as if it were a bucking horse, but it wouldn’t move.  Still, her nipples felt rather good rubbing the rough inner surface of her denim coveralls, so she continued the bouncing somewhat longer than was strictly necessary.

 

Trying another tack, Janey backed up until her butt was against the hub.  From there she tried pulling the blade upwards.  That had the unfortunate effect however, of bending the steel wing upward until it rested between her breasts, forming a crazy-looking right-angle turn.  “I keep forgetting how strong I am,” she thought with a bit of disappointment, pushing the misshapen steel part back into position.

 

Deciding to give it one more try, Janey maneuvered herself so she was sitting atop the mast.  Looking down, she was impressed again by the size and mass of this contraption.  She was a hundred feet from the ground, and the mast was two feet in diameter even up here.  It looked like it was six or more feet wide at its base. 

 

“Let me see if I can get this thing going,” she thought.  She grabbed the vertical blade and pushed it gently to one side, and it did seem to move.  Encouraged, she gave it a solid send-off.  Her efforts unfortunately turned out not to rotate the propeller, but to bend the blade.  That send-off had enough force to rip the entire blade from its hub and shoot it off into the distance.  The other three blades, she noticed with disappointment, stayed right where they were.

 

Pouting, Janey hopped to the ground.  “I give up.  It’s broken.”

 

“Hey, I have and idea,” called Elsa.  “Come on back down here.”

 

Janey shrugged and jogged down the hill to where her friend was standing.  “What?  What’s your idea?”  She clearly didn’t think anything would work anymore.

 

“Maybe it just needs more wind,” Elsa responded suggestively.

 

Janey smiled mischievously.  Both girls turned toward the stuck windmill.  They nodded to each other and began blowing.

 

Their combined super-breath was more than the windmills could take.  As the two beautiful young women blew, the closest machine gradually leaned away like a tree in a hurricane.  The weakened horizontal blade that Janey had bent finally tore off its mooring and accelerated backward.  Eventually the huge steel mast itself kinked and bent all the way back, at right about the 4-foot diameter point.

 

Other windmills in the vicinity didn’t fare very well, either.  Several of the slow-moving propellers were now spinning like pinwheels, and a hail of sparks could be seen around their centers.  The fast-moving ones didn’t stand a chance.  Two of them were revolving so fast now that they literally broke free of their masts.  Continuing to spin, they actually rose higher into the wind, and then overwhelmed, took off backwards.  One of the doomed propellers crashed into another spinning two-blader, knocking one of its blades backwards where it quickly struck its own mast and broke off.

 

The gale ended abruptly.  Janey and Elsa looked at each other for a second, then began laughing heartily.  Laughter faded though, as both gorgeous girls gradually became aware of a growing sense of desire.  As if by some silent signal, they stopped laughing completely, and their sobering faces moved closer together.   Elsa noticed the soft smoothness of her friend’s skin, the perfect whiteness of her teeth, the full wetness of her parted lips – lips that had channeled hurricane force winds just moments earlier.  Jane’s awareness was occupied by the taste of Elsa’s sweet breath, the same breath that could so easily overpower these huge steel machines.

 

First the tongues, then the lips, then the lithe bodies of these two superwomen came together in a powerful and irresistible embrace, their well-endowed chests pressing so hard against each other that the material of their clothing was quickly ground to dust.  The girls kissed each other madly, hardly noticing when their balance gave way and they began rolling together toward the freeway.  Their tangled bodies continued down the hill and across the roadbed, colliding with ascending cars and trucks and sending them flying into the guard rails.

 

* * *

I was still playing with my nymph’s watermelon-sized breasts when I heard a sound outside my cell door.  Could it be Janey?  No, definitely not.  Her entrance would have been much grander than this. 

 

There was a scraping noise, and I sat bolt upright.  “Disappear,” I whispered, “Make it happen!”  My naked playmate vanished – and not a moment too soon.  A Styrofoam tray slid through the notch beneath my door, and very quickly thereafter the tiny window cover opened.  A pair of eyes peered in and rested, I thought, a little too long on my erect penis.  “You’re blind,” I thought, “Make it happen.”  I was treated to the satisfying sound of the window cover slamming shut.  I chuckled to myself.

 

The food was pretty close to inedible.  It consisted of a Styrofoam bowl containing  something that looked faintly like oatmeal, and a plastic cup of orange juice.  And a stale roll.  I was hungry, but this stuff turned my stomach.

 

“Let it be a juicy hamburger and French fries, and Make it happen,” I thought, and  I was soon munching a delicious all-American charcoal-broiled dinner.  I slid the tray back under the door, and sat down sidewise on the bed.  I called for my nymph again, but for fun this time I made her 7-1/2 feet tall, with breasts proportionately larger as well.

 

* * *

Folsom State Prison was a maximum security institution.  Its walls and fortifications could withstand many kinds of attack – from the inside.  It wasn’t designed to repel external intruders.  But intrusion wasn’t a piece of cake, either.  The sheer concrete walls were long, high and featureless, and topped with two rows of razor wire.  Every 20 feet or so was mounted an arc lamp, flooding the flat vegetation-free dirt run that surrounded it with a spooky pinkish light.  Every hundred feet was stationed a guard post – a small steel-roofed hut mounted diagonally on top of the wall, its corners overhanging it on two sides.  And there were a lot of them.  The compound was enormous.  The guard posts were dark inside, but if you happened to see one against the moonlight you might notice the silhouetted nozzles of several rifles resting on its low sills.

 

If a would-be escapee managed to scale the concrete, brave the razor wire, drop to the ground without breaking a leg, and avoid being noticed in the pink light by vigilant trigger-happy guards, he would still have to contend with another obstacle before reaching his freedom.  The prison’s perimeter was surrounded by a 10-foot high chain-link fence with its own bales of razor wire hanging from the top cross-pole on the inside.  And the fence was electrified.  During Folsom’s long and storied past, several prisoners had managed to reach that final barrier, but none had ever gotten past – except in a rough wooden coffin.

 

And now, two lovely women crouched in the shadowy bushes across the street and took all this in.  They were about to add a new story to Folsom’s history.  They were also both topless now, the upper half of their clothing having succumbed to their passionate love-making.  That, they knew, would make the story that much more interesting.

 

“Do you want to make a grand entrance, or do you want to sneak in?” asked Elsa.

 

“Oh, grand entrance, I think,” was her companion’s response.  “But I want to fool around a little first, Ok?”

 

“Hey, it’s your gig,” shrugged the Brazilian.  “Whatever you want.”

 

“Ok then, you wait here.”

 

Janey crossed the street so fast that even the occasional auto wouldn’t have seen her, much less struck her.  In less than a quarter of a second she was kneeling in a shadow outside the chain link fence, picking up a handful a gravel.  Experimentally, she flicked her thumb and forefinger, and one little stone shot out like a bullet, penetrating the nearest arc light’s glass faceplate.  Deprived of its seal, the gas quickly escaped and the light went out.  Satisfied, Janey flicked stones at one light after another in rapid succession, until a large area of the dirt run was dark.

 

She was going to tear through the fence, but received a shock instead, literally!  The moment she touched the metal links with her hands, a bolt of electricity ran through her.  And continued to run through her.  It was like a tingle in all her veins at once, but much stronger.  Not that it was an unpleasant sensation for this gorgeous superwoman.  No, not unpleasant at all!  She experimentally thrust her chest forward so both nipples could touch the metal, and then let go with her hands.  “Mmmmm,” she said in a low voice, “that’s nice.”  Ten thousand volts flowed through her body via her nipples for several minutes of enjoyment before she remembered why she was here.

 

“Oh yeah, Jim.  We’re here to rescue Jim.”  She stepped reluctantly away from the electrified fence.  She cupped her oversized breasts and twisted her nipples until the sensation faded.  “If I tear this fence,” she thought, “it might stop working and we won’t be able to enjoy it later.” 

 

Stepping back, she looked up at the top of the fence, seeing its razor wire loops hanging from the other side.  “Big deal,” she shrugged.  Janey bent her knees and leaped 15 feet into the air, landing silently inside the fence. 

 

So far, no-one had noticed her presence.  If anyone knew that an 80-foot section of lamps had been destroyed, they weren’t exactly raising an alarm.  Well, she was about to do something that would raise the alarm.

 

Standing below the nearest guard post, Janey bent her beautiful legs again and leaped into the air.  The peak of her trajectory took her just below the guard post’s floor, where her fingers shot out and sunk themselves into the concrete on top of the pillar on which the guard post sat.  There she hung for a moment, her glorious breasts fully exposed to any who happened to watch – but nobody did.  She could hear breathing in the small cabin above her, but nothing else. 

 

“Alarm time,” said to herself, and with her free hand she gently lifted her corner of the hut upwards.  The sounds of splintering wood and groaning metal suddenly filled the air, together with confused yelling above her, and even a pointless rifle shot rang out.  The heavy concrete-sunken bolts which held the guard post in place bent and stretched thinner and thinner, until they finally gave way to the raw power of Janey’s easy lift. Then, just as the entire cabin slid sideways and fell into the yard, the claxon began its ugly racket.

 

“Yuk,” said Janey out loud from her perch on the concrete wall, “why couldn’t they use sirens or something?  I hate that noise!”  Remembering what she did with the arc lights, Janey broke off a piece of concrete with her free hand and threw it at the nearest claxon, silencing it permanently.  “That’s better.”

 

Other bells were still ringing, but Janey decided to let them ring for now.  Looking back at her friend then, she leaped from her position on the wall, back over the fence, and over the deserted highway.  She landed lightly next to Elsa.  “Ok,” she said, “let’s go.”