It was nearly fully dark when the fourteen-year-old girl opened her eyes again. Emitting a groan, she sat up and looked around herself. It took her eyes several moments to adjust to the dim light filtering into the alley from the streetlights outside. It took another several moments to remember where she was, how she'd gotten there, and what she had done there. When the memory returned, with the gruesome sight before her and the smell of blood and gore and her own retching, she was again sick. This time her stomach had very little left to give. That didn't stop it from trying to empty itself again.
The dry heaves lasted several minutes. Finally, her entire body still trembling with horror, Mary Chandler managed to get up to her feet. She had to get away from here, and get away now. She had to get home.
Even as she thought that, she also realized that she couldn't go home looking like this. What if her mother saw here? How was she going to explain the red dress? And the dark stains --- bloodstains --- on the front?
Looking down at herself, she realized for the first time that she wasn't still in that strange red dress that had appeared on her earlier as if by magic. She was wearing the same T-shirt and jeans she'd worn to school in the morning and then to see the movie afterwards. And there were no bloodstains, either on her shirt or on herself, though everything was more than a little dirty from her having lain on the ground in the dirty alley.
The T-shirt was also filled the same way it had been that morning; that is to say, it was all but empty. There was no sign of the magnificent mounds that had swelled the red dress to its limits.
They had been her mounds that had swelled that red dress, weren't they? What had happened? Had she dreamed the whole incident?
No, she hadn't, for the gory, mangled remains of her attacker were still there.
Fighting another rising tide of nausea, she carefully edged her way around the mess. As soon as she was clear, she began to run. Reaching the sidewalk outside the alley, she turned toward home and continued to run as fast as she could.
She got about two blocks before stopping, leaning against the side of a building, gasping to catch her breath, fighting the stitch in her side. Her legs felt like they were made of lead. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. Her heart felt like it was ready to burst. But she couldn't take the time to stop. Staggering to remain on her feet, she continued on.
She avoided all other pedestrians. She started every time a car backfired. Somehow, despite legs that didn't seem to want to work properly, she managed to make it to the street in front of her home.
All the lights were off in the house next door. Apparently the Carlsons hadn't yet come home from dinner with Tanya's uncle.
Then there was one more house to go.
Still somewhat hesitant, she went up the walk to the door. Digging into her pocket, she was relieved to find her keys present. Opening the door, she went inside. "Hi, Mother," she gasped out. "I'm home."
The clattering of computer keys ceased, and her mother's answer came from the study. "You're late, dear. Where were you?"
"With friends." Closing the door behind her, she headed toward the stairs. She had to get upstairs and into her room before her mother came out and saw her dirty clothes.
"Did you have fun?"
"Yes, Mother," Mary called over her shoulder as she went up the stairs on leaden legs. She hated lying to her mother, but she certainly couldn't tell her the truth. She hadn't been with friends, and she hadn't been having fun.
"Have you eaten yet?"
"Yes, Mother." Eaten, and thrown it all back up again. But she wasn't about to face food again.
Once in the safety of her room, she closed the door behind her and collapsed onto the bed. Without bothering to undress, she drew her knees to her chest and curled up into a fetal ball.
What had happened?
She'd been attacked on her way home. That was clear. But what had happened after that?
She still had no answers when she finally drifted off into sleep.
The fire was coming closer. The old man Mary Chandler thought of as Gandalf the Gray was still waving his staff and mouthing a word. Again, Mary had to warn him, get him to safety. She tried to move toward him, tried to reach him...
... and sat up in her bed, amidst gray.
The gray had nothing to do with any wizard. It was coming from the window, where the sky outside was already beginning to lighten.
There was no need to get just up yet, though. This was Saturday. The first weekend after the start of school. Saturday. The day after Friday.
Mary lay back in bed and thought about what had happened the previous evening. Something most definitely had happened, but exactly what?
Walking home from school, she had encountered a man. A mugger. No, not a mugger, he'd been after something other than her wallet. He'd wanted her body. He was a rapist.
And she had somehow dealt with him.
She had done that, hadn't she?
Yes, she had. It had been her, not somebody else.
Sitting up again, she looked down at herself in the dim light. She obviously had fallen asleep without getting undressed. She still had on the T-shirt and jeans but had kicked off her sneakers sometime during the night. One was lying on the floor, the other was still on the bed.
But how could her small girlish body have dealt with such a big strong man? A man who'd had a knife.
But that knife hadn't hurt her at all. The blade had shattered against her body. And then she'd not only dealt with the man, she'd crushed his body to a pulp.
And she'd enjoyed doing it. At least a part of her had enjoyed it.
Her hands came up to her chest. They encountered her breasts. The same small breasts she'd had before, not the fabulous mounds she'd had last night.
What had happened? She could swear the knife had shattered against a fantastic pair of breasts. Then those same breasts had crushed the man's body.
Had the whole thing been some kind of dream? Like Gandalf and the cave and the fire? But no. Why would she still be dressed, one shoe lying on the bed?
She kicked the shoe off the bed and lay back again, pulling the covers up to her chin. She tried to make sense of out what had happened but couldn't. Things just didn't make sense.
The girl was still in bed when her mother came to call her for breakfast.
"Okay, Mother. I'm coming." Throwing aside the covers, Mary Chandler rolled over and turned on the radio on the nightstand, filling the room with soft music. She always kept it tuned to radio station WHIZ, the most popular station in Fawcett City. Then she climbed out of bed and got to her feet. Walking toward the bedroom door on her way to the bathroom, she stopped and looked at her reflection in the mirror hanging on the closet door.
The song on the radio ended and went to a series of commercials. She had just started to turn toward the bathroom when a velvet and honey voice on the radio riveted her attention.
The thirty-second ad quickly stated that a psychologist, Dr. Dominique Vasquez, treated several problems, including "Repressed Memory Syndrome." The voice sent a warm chill up Mary's spine, appealing to a longing that she had been barely aware of having before hearing the voice.
"I'm an expert in hypnotherapy and your problems will be treated with confidentiality, and with concern." The wondrously powerful yet quiet voice then gave an address and telephone number for further information.
It was only after the commercial ended and the next song began that Mary recognized the doctor's name as that on the flyer Tanya had shown her yesterday.
God knew that Mary needed help with her memory --- or to be exact, her lack of memory.
She realized that she hadn't caught the phone number. But that was okay, she could get it from the flyer Tanya had shown her when she went back to school on Monday.
After breakfast, Nora Chandler spent much of Saturday in her study with her computer, going over hospital budget and staffing requests. Besides being the largest hospital in the city, it was the core of the university's medical school and the start of the school year was always a hectic time, even more hectic than usual.
Her mother's occupation gave Mary an excuse not to discuss what had happened to her Friday evening. Instead, she took the opportunity to do a load of laundry, not wanting her mother to see the dirty clothes from the alley.
Nor did Mary mention anything to Tanya when she went to the Carlsons' for lunch.
Mary kept trying to engage Tanya's brother Rick in conversation, but he merely gave polite responses while gulping down his lunch. He left as soon as he had finished, to join some friends to shoot some hoops on a neighbor's driveway.
"Earth to Mary," Tanya said, when Mrs. Carlson left the table to take Rick's empty plates to the kitchen.
"Huh?" Mary said, blinking and turning her eyes from Rick's vacated seat to Tanya's.
"He doesn't even know you exist, you know," Tanya said.
"Huh?" Mary repeated. Had she been that transparent?
Tanya rolled her eyes. "You're not the first girl to make eyes at him, you know? What I don't know is what they see in him."
"That's because he's your brother."
Tanya rolled her eyes again. "So I should know him better than anyone else."
Fortunately for Mary, that was the end of the discussion. With Rick out of the house, the two girls used the opportunity to play video games without interruption and interference from any older, more experienced boys.
Sunday was a quiet day for Mary Chandler. Almost a repeat of Saturday, except Tanya came over for lunch --- without Rick. Mary's mother again spent much of the day in her study with her computer spreadsheets. Again, Mary refrained from saying anything about Friday evening. She still couldn't put it into words, not even for her best friend. Instead, the two girls spent much of the afternoon watching videos while Rick stayed at home watching football on television.
When the doorbell rang on Monday morning, Mary Chandler had just started eating her cereal. She checked her watch. "Tanya's early," she said, putting down her spoon and getting to her feet. "That's a switch." She headed for the front of the house.
But it wasn't her best friend at the door. "Hi, I'm Monica Jackson, you new neighbor."
Mary recognized the woman who had waved at Tanya last week. Today she looked a little more ordinary, in blue jeans and a T-shirt, but her hair was still red and wild. "Hi. I'm Mary Chandler."
Mary's mother had obviously heard the strange voice. She hurried into the living room. "Yes?" she asked sharply, coming to stand behind her daughter.
The woman began to introduce herself again. "I'm Monica Jackson..." but Nora Chandler didn't let her get any further.
"Yes, what do you want?"
Mary was surprised. Her mother might not be the most outgoing person in the world, but she wasn't usually this rude, even to total strangers, let alone a new neighbor.
Monica, too, appeared to be taken aback by Nora's tone. Her own voice became slightly frosty. "Sorry if I'm disturbing you. I just moved in, around the corner, and I was wondering if you might have a hammer I could borrow."
Nora visibly relaxed. "Oh. Of course. Please, come in. I think the hammer's in the kitchen."
Mary followed the new neighbor as she followed Nora to the kitchen. "Excuse me if I was rude," Nora was saying. "People have been coming to the door lately, trying to sell magazine subscriptions. I've learned that if you're just the least bit friendly, it's impossible to get rid of them."
"That's okay," Monica said. "Thanks for the warning."
Mary hadn't noticed any people coming by to sell anything recently. She figured they must come by after she left for school and before her mother left for the university hospital where she was an administrator. She sat back down at the table to finish her breakfast.
Across the kitchen, Nora began opening drawers. "I know I've got tools in here somewhere."
Monica was looking around the room. "This is great. I love the way you've decorated the kitchen." Her eyes rested on the collection of photographs. She moved closer and began to study them. She picked one up. "Is this you?"
Nora turned to look. It was the picture of her university graduation. "Yes, that's me," she said cautiously.
"I thought you looked familiar!" Monica exclaimed. "You went to Fawcett State, didn't you?"
"Yes." Nora was still sounding cautious.
"So did I! I think we had a class together, sophomore year, or maybe it was junior year. Did you take Art of the High Renaissance, with Bertinelli?"
"Yes, I did!"
Mary gaped. "Mother!" she said around a mouthful of cereal. "You took art courses?"
"Don't talk with your mouth full," her mother said. "History of art. It was an elective. Believe it or not, Mary, I do have some interests outside of shuffling papers." She looked at Monica in a more direct and friendly way. "You know, I think I remember you. But something's different."
"My hair," Monica said, bringing her hand up to her head. "It was long, brown, and straight. I ironed it daily so I could look like every other hippie."
"You ironed your hair?" Mary asked in disbelief. This time she managed to swallow before speaking.
"Ironic, isn't it? We thought we were free spirits, rebels against society. But we were still conformists, we just adopted a different set of status symbols." Monica looked at Nora. "Flared jeans and leather sandals with straps that ran halfway up the leg, right?"
Nora nodded. "Love beads and peasant blouses."
"Indian headbands, remember those?" Monica offered.
They both started laughing.
Mary was floored. "Mother! You never told me you were a hippie!"
"Well, I dressed like one," Nora said. "What have you been doing since school, Monica?"
"I studied art in Paris, spent a couple of years in New York, and for the past fifteen years I've been working for an advertising agency in Chicago. I got sick of the snow, so I moved back out here."
"Do you have children?"
"No, and I never married. I paint, and I make jewelry. To pay the bills, I design covers for paperback novels. What have you been up to?"
I got a doctorate at Berkeley, and I went to work in a research lab in Washington, DC. Now I'm an administrator at the Fawcett State University Hospital. Here's the hammer."
"Thanks. Are you divorced?"
Nora hesitated a second before answering, "No. Widowed."
"Oh." Monica replaced the photo of Nora on the shelf. "I'm sorry." Then she gasped. "You married him?"
Mary was alarmed to see her mother go pale. "What?"
Monica had picked up the photo of Mary's father. "Isn't this Nick Anderson? He was two years ahead of us at Fawcett State?"
"You knew Nick?"
"Oh, no, not really. I never even spoke to him. I just remember seeing him on campus."
Nora's face began to return to its original color.
"Wait a minute," Mary interrupted. "Nick Anderson? I thought his name was Nick Chandler."
"I kept my maiden name after I married," her mother told her. "Then, when you were born and Nick was... gone, I thought it would be less confusing if you had my last name."
"When did you two marry?" Monica asked.
"Oh... a while after graduation," Nora said vaguely. "He died in an accident, just before Mary was born."
"How sad. I'm truly sorry." Monica studied the photo. "He was awfully good-looking. I remember thinking that when I saw him around campus."
"Do you remember anything else about my father?" Mary asked eagerly.
"No," Monica said regretfully, putting the photo back on the shelf. "Like I said, I didn't actually know him."
The doorbell rang again. This time it was Tanya Carlson.
"Guess who's in our kitchen?" Mary greeted her as she stepped inside. "Monica, the artist! She was in school with my mother, and you're not going to believe this, she knew my father! Well, she didn't really know him, but she remembers seeing him around when she was at Fawcett State. Isn't that amazing? All she remembers is that he was really good-looking."
"That's nice," Tanya said when Mary finally stopped for a breath, but it was clear to Mary she hadn't really been listening.
"What's the matter?"
Tanya spoke glumly. "Aunt Emily's flying in this afternoon."
Both of Mary's parents, according to her mother, were only children. Tanya, on the other hand, had aunts and uncles coming out of the woodwork on both sides of her family. Mary thought her friend was lucky to have so many relatives and often wished she had a few. Though probably not quite as many as Tanya. Mary had long ago given up trying to keep track of all of them. She wasn't sure whether Tanya could keep them straight herself.
"I can't stand that woman," Tanya was saying. "You remember that sweater she got me for Christmas last year?"
Going by her friend's mood, Mary tried to remember the ugliest sweater Tanya had ever shown her. "That red and green one?"
"That red and puke one, you mean." Tanya made gagging sounds.
Mary hadn't thought it was that ugly. Though come to think of it, she wouldn't want to be seen in it herself.
"And of course, my mother's going to make me wear it tonight."
"Tonight?" What was tonight?
"We're taking her out to dinner, as soon as Rick's done with football practice."
Mary went back into the kitchen and put her empty bowl in the sink.
Her mother was looking out the kitchen window. "Do you have an umbrella, Mary? I think I see clouds."
But Mary had already started out of the kitchen and ignored the question. "Bye, Mother! Nice meeting you, Monica."
"How long's your aunt gonna be here?" Mary asked Tanya when they'd reached the street.
"All week. And she doesn't like cats, so Tiggy has to stay in my room the whole time."
"Oh, poor Tiggy."
" 'Poor Tiggy'? What about 'poor Tanya'? When Tiggy moves in with me, so does his litter box."
Mary hadn't considered that. As much as Tanya's kitten ate, some of it had to come out the other end. The litter box --- and the taking care of it --- was the one part of owning a kitten that Mary didn't envy her friend. "Okay," she conceded, "poor Tanya."
"Well, thank you."
Tanya's mood improved the closer they got to school. Or perhaps it was the increasing distance from her Aunt Emily. By the time they walked up the steps and separated to go to their first-period classes, she was back to being her usual self.
Mary had made no mention of her intention to see the therapist when she walked to school with Tanya. She didn't have time before the start of classes, but after her second period class she swung by the cafeteria and jotted down the number in her notebook.
She wolfed down her lunch, hardly saying a word to Tanya and her other friends. Excusing herself, she put away her tray and then went to the pay phone outside the cafeteria. Dropping a quarter into the slot, she dialed the number.
The urgent needs of the young girl on the other end of the phone were so clear, yet so familiar to Dr. Dominique Vasquez. And yet, there was something else, something more.
"Well, sometime we can help and sometime we can't." She looked at the open appointment calendar on her desk. "Can you stop by my office today?" She normally didn't make appointments for the same day, but there had been a cancellation. "Great. Why don't you stop by at 4:00 PM and we can discuss it then, dear?" Her voice had a power even now in her soft response.
She listened to the response.
"Okay, I'll see you then, dear." She wrote down Mary Chandler in her crisp hand in the empty slot on the calendar.
Now, just what had it been about the girl's voice that had struck her mind so?
Whatever it was, she would find out in a few hours. She could hardly wait.
Mary Chandler hung up the phone and jotted the appointment in her notebook. Then she had to hurry to her locker to get her things for Math.
William Atkins was already at his seat. Walking behind him to her seat, Mary opened her textbook. She covertly watched him throughout the class, but he never turned around toward her. A couple of times, though, he turned to the other side and whispered something to the girl beside him, an early-blooming, well-developed blonde, or leaned over to hear what she was whispering to him.
Clouds had indeed moving in during the day. It wasn't raining yet when school ended, but it definitely looked threatening. Tanya Carlson wanted to linger after school. Unfortunately, she had to get home so she and her family could go out for dinner with Aunt Emily. Mary made appropriate noises, then quickly headed to the bus stop for the ride downtown.
It was just starting to drizzle when Mary got off the bus. She dashed through the drops to her destination, a modern professional building only half a block from the bus stop. Promptly at 4:00 o'clock, Mary walked through the office door on the third floor of the professional building. Dropping her backpack onto a luxuriously padded chair, she walked around the well-appointed office and saw the usual grouping of certificates on the wood paneled walls. According to the diplomas, Dominique was a Ph.D. in psychology, a certified hypnotherapist and a graduate of an Asian institute specializing in something called NLP, whatever that was.
"Good morning," was the quiet greeting that came from behind the girl as she was studying the certificates. Startled, Mary turned quickly to see the doctor. She was tall, at a little under six feet, a good eight inches taller than Mary. She was at once both lean and full figured. She had a dancer's body with the muscle tone and grace of a ballerina and full, large, firm breasts. Her long, dark, lustrous hair framed a dusky, achingly beautiful face. The hypnotherapist's eyes were Liz Taylor violet, deep, large and compelling. Her legs were well shaped and very, very long.
She was dressed in a well-tailored suit, a dark jacket and a matching skirt that was both professional and sensual, exposing just the right amount of those long sexy legs. A white silk blouse finished the outfit. Mary noticed that the top two buttons on the blouse were undone, revealing just a peek of the full firm breasts and a good view of Dominique's long slender neck and a single gold chain which encircled it. She wore dark stockings and high, black, shiny heels. She was truly stunning!
The hypnotherapist extended her graceful yet firm hand to the young girl. "Hi, I'm Dr. Dominique Vasquez, you must be Mary Chandler. I'd really like to help you, dear, so let's get started."
Dominique took Mary's hand and took her into an inner office as luxuriously furnished as the outer, guiding her to a large leather chair. The doctor did not release Mary's hand but continued to hold it softly as her eyes took in her latest client. Mary Chandler, she saw, was a potentially pretty girl on the verge of womanhood. She was dressed in the typical teenage style, a plain shirt and a pair of khaki slacks. There was still more than a hint of childish innocence in her lightly freckled face, yet her clear brown eyes reflected a quick intelligence and her full red lips hinted of a hidden sensuality.
Dominique felt a tingle working its way upward, thinking to herself, Well my pretty young thing, we have quite a few things to do today. I'd wager that before our session is over, you will learn much about yourself... and even more about me.
Dominique spoke to Mary in a soft, yet authoritative voice, "As you may know, our dreams often reveal hidden, lost memories. Often just one session of hypnosis will open pathways into the darkness of those lost memories. Would you be willing to have me place you in a hypnotic trance to reveal your past memories?"
Mary hesitated, then nodded, slowly. "Yes, if you think that would help, but I've never been hypnotized before, so I don't know if I can." She bit her lip nervously and looked around the room, "I just don't know... there are so many things I don't know."
Dominique moved just a bit closer to Mary, still holding her hand. Her eyes fixed the girl with a compelling stare as she whispered to her. "Its okay, dear, just keep holding my hand, darling, and look deeply into my eyes as I speak to you... look, Mary... look at me..."
Mary was captivated by the darkly beautiful woman. She loved the sound of her sexy voice and found comfort, and something more, in those compelling violet eyes.
"Just look into my eyes, dear, and hold my hand...all that exists for you are my eyes, my voice and my hand... listen to me... look into my eyes... feel my hand... so warm... so soft... hold it tighter... tighter... don't let go, Mary... deeper, darling... deeper... deeper..."
Mary felt confused. What exactly was happening to her, her body feeling so light, almost as if she had slipped into flight? No, a dream of flight. She continued to stare into Dominique's beautiful eyes, feeling more and more relaxed with each breath she took, each beat of her heart.
"Hold me tighter Mary... don't let go... you can't let go... no matter how hard you try... you can't let go... so tight... holding on to my hand tighter and tighter... just following my instructions... looking deep into my eyes... listening to my commands as I talk to you... holding so tightly... obeying my commands... you CAN'T let go because I don't want you to...because I tell you not to let go... even if you try to let go you will have to hold on even tighter... because that is what I want... you can't let go, darling..."
Dominique felt Mary's hand quiver as she felt a chill moving deeply inside her, as she tried to release herself from the dark-haired girl's grip. The girl tried to break the spell Dominique was so skillfully weaving but then, much to the hypnotist's delight, Mary's grip quickly tightened and then remained firm. The girl was quickly falling under Dominique's influence.
The doctor lowered her voice to a sensual almost catlike purr. "Now, Mary, keep looking directly into my eyes... still deeper... deeper... my eyes hold your thoughts just as my hand holds yours... you can't look away... you can't look away... because I don't wish you to look away... you can't look away... can you, darling?'
Mary shook her head, seemingly moving in slow motion. "I... I can't look away..."
Mary's head was spinning, she felt so dizzy yet so alert. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Dominique's. Somewhere deep in her subconscious an alarm bell rang ever louder. If she surrendered herself to Dominique, now, would she ever be free again? But the alarm came to late as she found herself gazing helplessly into the hypnotic, violet eyes of the beautiful doctor. It was as if the hypnotherapist's eyes were ablaze, burning away her will to resist. She couldn't look away, she could think of nothing else.
Dr. Vasquez's hypnotic words penetrated deeply into Mary's mind, pushing aside the girl's own thoughts. The words the woman whispered slowly became Mary's thoughts, their minds merging, yet under the control of the woman with the violet eyes.
"Mary, darling... as you continue to look deep into my eyes you know that most of all you want to obey me... not to resist my commands... just to obey each and every order I give to you... you must obey me, darling... obey me... obey... obey... you must obey... nod your head if you understand, dear..."
Mary nodded without hesitation. I must obey, she thought, feeling happy to have such simplicity in her thoughts again, such clarity… finally!
"Good, dear... very good..."
Mary's lips turned up into a shy smile, somehow it made her so happy to please Dr. Vazquez, it seemed so right just to listen... and to obey...
"You may let go of my hand now, Mary, but remember who is in command and who must obey... you MUST obey..."
"Yes... Doctor... I... must... obey... always."
"You're going to enjoy this, my little pet," Dominique whispered softly into Mary's ear, tiny goosebumps moving across her skin as her soft fingers touched the young girl's cheek. She pulled the lovely young girl's face toward hers. A slight move brought their lips in contact, the doctor's tongue darted out, flicking Mary's parted lips.
The girl closed her eyes and sighed.
Dominique pulled her closer and pressed her lips harder on Mary's, They kissed, hungrily, the hypnotherapist's tongue invading the entranced girl's mouth, touching, twirling, darting. Wet. Warm, so sensual.
Her eyes still closed, Mary's breath came in gasps as she instinctively reached out to hold the doctor, a young girl's passion not restrained, not conscious. Dominique pulled away and laughed.
Dominique had often taken advantage of her patients in this way, turning them into love slaves. Several times she had even commanded her entranced lovers to give her money and valuables from their homes before she had released them from her erotic spell.
She now pushed gently away the girl as she spoke. "Before we explore these dreams, let me ask you a question. Are you working with the police, my darling?"
Mary shook her head no and Dominique relaxed a bit. She often worried that previous victims would report her to the authorities and that they would send an undercover officer to investigate her. It had never happened, and the girl appeared much too young to be a police officer, but she was always cautious.
"That's good, Mary. Now tell me about yourself, my pet... talk to me... tell me about your dreams... tell me the truth... all your truths."
Dominique had expected her command to elicit a little background on the entranced girl just to verify that she wasn't working for the medical society or that she wasn't related to any of her previous victim/patients. But that revealed nothing and she went on to the girl's dreams.
"Now... tell me about the dreams... everything..."
The girl's dreams riveted Dominique's attention. She dug deeper into them, yet was not fully prepared for Mary's revelations, hidden truths behind her dreams that were now forced to the surface by her hypnotic trance.
Dominique's command to tell the truth had indeed penetrated Mary's subconscious and released all her suppressed knowledge, knowledge she herself hadn't known she possessed. Her mind was suddenly becoming so clear. The dream made perfect sense now.
"I'm Mary Chandler! And I'm more than that, much more. I couldn't remember my legacy until now, but now I can remember EVERYTHING. I'm also a Marvel! All I have to do is say the magic word and I become Marvel the World's Mightiest Girl. I can fly! I'm invulnerable! All I have to do is… I have only to say..."
"Go on, dear," Dominque urged, "say it..."
Under the doctor's hypnotic sway, the girl had no choice but to obey. She took a deep breath, then said the magic word.
"SHAZAM!"
As she spoke the word, booming thunder shook the office, a bolt of lightning crackled across the room, thunder and lightning that had nothing to do with the storm building outside. Dominique responded by diving behind the couch. Carefully raising her head, she could not see the girl, a strange smoke obscuring the girl, a smoke that smelled of burning incense, which spoke of an ancient time, or perhaps a time that never was.
At the same time, the room was filled with an unknown energy, the power of it making Dominique's hair appear to stand upward, her body suddenly energized… energized and aroused.
As powerful as it was, the effect the energy had on the doctor was nothing compared to the effect it had on the girl.
As the smoke that wasn't smoke drifted away, Dr. Dominique Vasquez could see that in the young girl's place a mature, muscular, and very sexy young woman now stood, her hands clasped behind her, her legs crossed at the ankles. She was taller than Dominique, several inches over six feet tall. She was dressed in a red and yellow costume that was a variant of a costume that had once been a familiar sight in Fawcett City. In her youth Dominique had seen pictures of Captain Marvel, and this costume was very similar to his, similar but ever so feminine as befit the body it barely covered. Staring at the taller and visibly stronger girl, Dominique rose to her feet, still looking upward as a young woman who had been Mary Chandler looked down at her. She saw that Mary's eyes were now confused, her head shaking gently, her long brown hair flying, as she was clearly breaking free of the hypnotic spell.
Mary spoke in a voice that was deeper and richer, a voice that did not belong to such a young girl, the voice of a supergirl. "How dare you try to take advantage of an innocent like Mary? She came to you for help and you were seducing her. You… you bitch!" She took a step toward Dominique, placing her feet apart, unclasping her hands from behind her and placing them on her hips.
Dominique observed the caped superheroine shaking her head. The girl's breathing had become deep and normal, not the regular, shallow pattern of someone in a hypnotic trance. In fact, her eyes were quickly becoming clear and bright, not at all like the vacant stare of just moments ago. There had been some kind of mystical change in Mary and she was breaking free. Dominique knew she had to act, and act quickly.
The doctor looked up into Mary's beautiful yet strong face, a face that betrayed no sign of the earlier freckles. She focused her violet eyes on Mary. In spite of the other physical changes, the girl's brown eyes still looked the same. Dominique narrowed her powerful gaze to exert her full hypnotic powers on the young superheroine, straightening up to her full height and taking a deep breath as she continued.
"Have you forgotten who is to command and who is to obey? Remember, I am in command and you must obey... look into my eyes and remember... look, Mary... look..."
The girl who had been Mary Chandler and was now suffused with the power of SHAZAM, stood towering over the hypnotist. Her body filled the red and yellow Marvel costume so tightly, breasts that were not of this world jutting out, gravity seemingly having no effect on such a supergirl. Dominique looked at the yellow boots, the white cape, and the lightning bolt, symbolizing power, her power, emblazoned across the dramatic curves of her chest. Mary Chandler WAS now indeed the World's Mightiest Girl, physically. But no one in the world, but not even a superhuman, not even one with such incredible powers, was immune to the power of hypnotic suggestion. And Dominique Vasquez was the Mistress of hypnotic dominance. She had entranced many men and women before and they had all become her willing slaves for as long as she willed them to be so. No one had ever been immune, neither to her beauty nor to her power. She knew she must try to overcome this superpowered female or suffer the consequences. She took another deep breath and focused all her concentration on the mental struggle ahead. The dark hypnotist spoke softly, her voice compelling Mary's attention.
Mary fought against the influence, muscles that could tear steel flexed, muscle opposing muscle as she tried to avert her gaze, to look away from Dominique's violet eyes. But she was too weak, too new to her power; try as she might, the hypnotherapist's soft commanding voice penetrated Mary's mind, spoke to her soul, urging, asking, tempting, commanding her to look at her.
"Look at me, Mary... remember how easy it was to obey me? To let all your troubles go away... to let me control... to obey me... to obey... let me have control Mary... obey me Mary, darling... give up, Mary... give up... all you have to do is to look into my eyes and surrender... surrender..."
Mary knew she could fly away. She knew she could smash Dominique like a bug. But it seemed so much easier to obey instead, to let the doctor control her thoughts... to obey... to surrender. The World's Mightiest Girl was gazing into the hypnotherapist's deep, compelling violet eyes… and she would not, could not look away.
Dominique kept talking in her soothing, relaxing, hypnotic voice. "Mary... relax... let me have control... don't fight against it... you want me to be in command... you want to obey my every command... you want to obey me... you must obey me because... you love me..."
This was the riskiest part of the hypnotic induction, but if she was to subjugate this awesome superheroine completely she had to use every psychological weapon at her disposal. Love was the strongest bond of all. Yet if Mary had no sexual feelings for Dominique she could break free of the spell at any time. But the hypnotherapist had remembered the sigh when she had first kissed Mary Chandler. She counted on her sexual power as well as her hypnotic influence to enslave the caped superheroine.
She continued fearlessly. "From the moment you saw me, you wanted me, darling, you desired me... you loved me... as you look so deeply into my eyes you know what I say is true... you are a slave to my love, Mary, yes my love! You will do anything I ask...anything I command, Mary...because you love me... say it, Mary... say it Mary... say it..."
As she stared helplessly into Dominique's eyes, Mary knew it was true, it must be true! The doctor was so lovely. Her face, her lips, her eyes...so beautiful. Her full lush body so sensual. It was true she loved her. But it was wrong to love her! She was a woman. She shouldn't. She wouldn't. She couldn't. Yet, she must...
Mary was frozen in place as the doctor moved closer, her body trembling visibly as Dominique reached out and haltingly touched the softness of Mary's breast. Under the red costume her nipples became erect, the doctor's expert touch was so erotic.
"Ohhhh, that feels so good... Oh, Dominique..."
The hypnotist reached up and gently entwined her fingers in Mary's long brown hair. She knew she had no chance, physically, of forcing Mary's head to move. Yet she now controlled the young woman's powerful body before her, the steely contours of a supergirl whose muscles were not of the ordinary world.
Still, she whispered so softly in her ear, "Give up, Mary...surrender to me!" And with that, she gently pulled Mary's head down so that they were eye to eye, superheroine facing hypnotherapist, the contest of wills determined so many minutes before.
Mary was unable to resist, Dominique Vasquez's power beyond even that of SHAZAM.
Dominique again focused her powerful hypnotic gaze on the now helpless superheroine. Eye to eye, their lips almost touching, Mary felt so powerless, yet so wonderful.
She knew she could not even exist now without the approval of her beautiful Mistress. Mary was ready to surrender everything to Dominique. Her body. Her mind. Even her very soul. Her brown eyes lost focus and went blank, staying open in a vacant, mindless stare. Her mouth opened softly, her full red lips slightly parted, her chest rising and falling with her excited breathing.
Dominique smiled in triumph. It was obvious that Mary was in a deep trance and was open to any suggestion, any order, any command. Mary was now under her control, her powerful body now owned by the doctor. Mary smiled vacantly, a simple joy filling her, a joy at just being near her new owner, her lover.
"Mary..." A broad, evil, yet sexy smile grew broader on Dominique' face as she spoke. "Mary Marvel... kneel before me and tell me what you desire most in this world."
The mighty brunette's knees suddenly felt weak and, as ordered, she fell to her knees in front of the ever dominant hypnotist. Tears ran down her pretty cheeks as she grasped the hem of Dominique's short skirt and begged her. "I want you to love me."
Dominique silently thrust her fist into the air as she grinned wickedly. Out loud, she spoke to no one, to everyone, expecting no response, turning her head toward the heavens. "Yes! Now she's mine!"
Mary continued to cry softly, tears falling from her dimpled cheeks. "Yes Mistress," and nodded her agreement, unable to deny even the slightest urgings of the sensual hypnotist. "I am yours."
Dominique liked the sound of that word… Mistress! Yes, she was a Mistress, in control of the strongest woman in the world, perhaps the most beautiful woman in the world! Mary Marvel would do anything --- steal anything, destroy any enemy --- all for her. God, she felt invincible!
Dominique walked over to a sofa on the other side of the office. She crooked her finger toward Mary and spoke, "Come here to me, Mary... no don't get up... stay on your knees... crawl to me... come to me, my slave..."
The red and yellow clad woman followed her orders and crawled sensually to her owner.
Dominique felt light-headed, giddy with her power as the girl moved gracefully across the floor, her body almost floating, moving unlike any other woman. Reaching beside her, she lifted a heavy statue from the end table, the solid bronze bust taxing even her considerable strength. Looking down at the girl as she prostrated herself before her, Dominique tested her reputed powers of invulnerability, swinging the statue downward, striking the girl's forehead with it, the ring of bronze striking flesh that was stronger than any steel rang through the room. A blow that would crush an ordinary woman's skull did not even have the power to change the expression of the girl who knelt before her. Shocked at the ease with which the girl shrugged off the mighty blow, she composed herself, speaking sharply to her.
"Rise to your feet Mary, stand before me!"
Dominique's heart was pounding, her breath coming in excited gasps as the tall girl rose to her feet, her face more than three inches higher than Dominique's, her body seemingly sculpted from sensuous steel by a sculptor with a superhuman imagination. Dominique saw the promise of enormous power beneath curves that were softly feminine, yet were formed of flesh that did not belong to an ordinary woman.
Her voice was strained as she struggled to lift and hand the bronze bust to the girl. Dominique noticed only the slightest tensioning of the girl's arms and shoulders as she easily took the weight from her. Holding it casually, the weight inconsequential to such a being, the girl looked back at her with a quizzical expression on her face.
"Mary… Marvel… I want you to show me your strength, your power! Show me how you are now different than any woman who has ever walked this planet before you!"
An innocent, almost a shy smile lit the girl's face, a mixture of pride and embarrassment suddenly making her look so appealing, so young. Despite having used her powers only once before, she had no trouble deliberately showing off the strength she possessed in this form.
Holding the statue before her, the woman's and the girl's eyes looking downward, the tendons on the back of Mary's hands suddenly growing so pronounced, tendons like steel cables rising along the back of her hands and across her wrists, her skintight costume moving in such exciting ways.
Dominique could barely breathe as she saw the bronze moving, squeezing outward from fingers that were now empowered with a strength beyond mortal ken, muscles that did not belong on this Earth slowly flexing across her arms, breasts rising upward so rounded as the underlying power was slowly unleashed. The bronze casting of Dr. Freud yielded to the girl's strength as if it was made of the softest modeling clay, the venerable image of the famous man distorting as the girl molded and shaped his form almost unconsciously, her eyes rising back to meet Dominique's. Her face now radiated with pride, the unfettered and naked display of her powers, of her superhuman muscles, filled her with pride. She was not an ordinary girl, she was not like any girl who had ever lived. She was Mary Marvel... heiress to Captain Marvel... she was the World's Mightiest Girl!
Dominique could not resist the curves that appeared across the girl's upper body, impossibly sensuous curves appearing in places that had only been hinted at before. Her breathing was coming in gasps as she struggled to speak.
"Mary… my love… let me see your body... now!"
Demonstrating her awesome power, Mary casually tore the statue into two pieces as if it was mere tissue paper, then dropped the warmly distorted metal to the floor at her feet. Hands that had just molded metal in their powerful grasp now clawed at her costume, removing first her cape and tunic, then the boots, and finally the short red skirt and panties, exposing her impossibly taut naked body to Dominique's eyes.
Seeing the direction of the older woman's lustful gaze, the girl suddenly turned shy, bringing her arms up and crossed them across her chest, tilting her head forward as if to hide her face under her lustrous dark hair.
"Don't cover yourself, my love," the doctor commanded, "let me see your body."
The girl looked up at her and then dropped her arms, letting them hang at her sides. Her full breasts heaved upward, her nipples stood pink and so erect. Dominique could barely take her eyes off of them.
But she did, moving her eyes downward. Dominique was staggered as she saw the girl's clitoris parting her nether lips, reaching out nearly a half inch, so pink, so needful.
Her own legs grew weak as she sank to her knees, her fingers gently reaching out to touch this superheroine's clitoris, the sensation of her touch sending shivers of passion through the doctor, and through the omnipotent supergirl who towered above her.
"I love that... I love you... Mistress..." Mary gasped, her body exploding in warm tingles as she was touched in ways she had never experienced before.
Her delicate kisses replaced her fingers for a moment before Dominique used all her willpower, restraining herself as she rose back up to her feet.
"Now undress me, my lovely slave."
Mary smiled so softly as she gently unbuttoned and removed the doctor's suit coat, now wrinkled from the afternoon's passionate activities. Then she lovingly removed the doctor's skirt and blouse.
Underneath, the doctor was wearing blue silk panties and a matching bra. Caught up in her own growing arousal, Dominique raised her hands to her shoulders, slipped her thumbs under the straps of her bra, and started to slip them off her shoulders, all before her newest slave could do it for her.
Mary thought the doctor was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. And she had to have her.
More importantly, she had to have the doctor have her. Possess her in every way, in body as well as mind and soul.
"Please, Mistress... allow me," she pleaded, dropping to her knees before the doctor. Her voice was filled with desire. She looked up at her beautiful mistress, eyes wide with desire. The need in the girl's eyes was as apparent as the desire in her voice.
"Of course, my pet." Pulling her thumbs back and letting the straps fall back into place, Dominique dropped her hands to her hips, cocking her body to one side and thrusting her hips forward. The posture made her even more beautiful, more desirable.
Remaining on her knees, Mary bent her head forward and used her shining strong teeth to removed the blue silk panties the hypnotherapist wore, savoring the fragrant juices that Dominique had exuded, her tongue stroking upward to capture those that had escaped her fragrant sex, all the while feeling so sexy and so powerful. Rising upward, Dominique's bra fell to the floor as Mary gently held her now exposed breasts, the grip of her powerful hands so much gentler now than they had been only minutes before when she had torn apart the bronze bust. Her fingers flicked across the older woman's wildly tingling nipples, the softness of the girl's touch, of her silky skin, the latent power of her hands thrilling the older woman.
Again that wicked, powerful smile played across the doctor's face as she whispered, "My toes, darling... kiss them."
Mary immediately fell to her knees, kissing and licking Dominique's feet, suddenly reduced from towering superhero to foot slave with just a barely spoken request.
Dominique reached down with both hands and cradled Mary's face between them. She gently guided her dark-haired servant up, her lips tracing a path up Dominique's body, embracing her. Their breasts touched, the thrilling softness of femme touching femme, of two women, one so empowered, both so impassioned. Dominique boldly kissed Mary in an open mouthed, exciting kiss, tongues intertwined, lips moving, searching, warm, wet.
Dominique knew Mary was totally helpless, enslaved by her spell, helpless to resist her. But she wanted to dominate her so completely that she would NEVER be able to free herself.
She again stared sensuously, powerfully, into Mary's eyes, knowing she was totally in control, "Look into my eyes Mary... you can never resist me...anytime I command it...now and forever...you are mine... embrace me... love me ...obey me... love me... obey me... FOREVER..."
Mary was just her toy as she stare powerlessly into those deep violet eyes, their gaze reaching to the very depths of her soul! She was helpless before Dominique Vasquez. She stared vacantly into her eyes. She nodded. "Oh, yes, my Mistress," her arms passionately embracing her dark Goddess, muscles that were far more than simply human starting to flex ever so gently, yet with a power that could bend the hardest steel.
Dominique gasped as she felt the air rush out of her lungs, the softly bare and perfect breasts of Mary pressing so firmly against the softly yielding contours of her own. Struggling against the sudden pressure, her breasts suddenly flattened against her own chest by ones so much firmer, Dominique struggled to fill her lungs. Yet Mary embraced her harder and harder, the gentleness of her soft passionate smile belying the immense pressures that had begun to bend Dominique's ribs inward.
Struggling with all her considerable strength, the doctor tried to speak, to push Mary away from her, to command Mary to let go. Her violet eyes grew wild, the doctor suddenly realizing that she had made a grave mistake, that this young and innocent girl would only do as she had been told, unable to stop her as Mary's powerful unyielding embrace slowly collapsed her lungs, leaving her without the ability to speak, without the ability to command her to stop.
But she didn't have to speak, she didn't have to command the young girl. Mary remembered her orders so clearly. They echoed vibrantly in her entranced brain, Dominique's words so clear, her passion so powerful.
Hold on Mary... don't let go... you can't let go... if you try to let go you will just have to hold on tighter... tighter Mary... you can't let go...tighter.
Mary heard the commands in her head, over and over, fantastic feminine muscles flexing with but a fraction of the strength that once had made Captain Marvel a living legend. The strength that one day would make Mary an even greater legend.
And in less than a second, it was all over. Mary felt a soft crunch, much like the collapse of a child's balsa wood airplane in a strong man's hands. Dominique's body snapped in half, collapsing against the unyielding steel of her own.
The doctor went limp, a look of growing frustration on Mary's face as her arms suddenly closed completely to embrace the firmness of her own naked body, a expression that quickly turned to horror as she looked down at the woman she still held. The doctor's magnificent body was now no larger than that of a small child, her formerly magnificent body compressed into the cleavage of her own proud breasts. A gasp of horror escaped Mary's lips as she panicked, dropping the lifeless body of the doctor to the floor, the boneless remains that a moment before had been a strong vital woman crumpling grotesquely and broken at her feet.
Her mind suddenly freed by the doctor's unexpected demise, Mary's brown eyes blinked several times, her own thoughts returning in a rush as she appeared to wake from a dream, a nightmare. Mary simply stood and looked at the crumpled, lifeless body, momentarily overcome by what she had done. Yet the memories of Dominique's exploitation rushed in on her, her mind's eye seeing the last half hour so clearly now.
She shook as if from a sudden chill, a tight knot forming deep in her stomach. She suddenly knew she had to get away from here. Moving almost too fast to see, she ran about the room, gathering up her things, running out into the waiting room with her backpack and costume in her arms, the eyes of two waiting patients momentarily meeting hers, the man's eyes moving downward across her perfect body, her beauty and her nudity shocking him.
Turning her back to the two people, she felt an eerie calm suddenly coming over her, suddenly realizing that what had happened was not really her fault. The stares of the woman and the man did not concern her now as she slowly pulled her red and yellow costume back on, her nudity become only virtual once again as the skintight costume covered her upper body, as she pulled her short skirt up over her marvelously long legs. And as she dressed, she contemplated what had just happened.
She now clearly saw her future as the heiress to Captain Marvel. Yet she had just killed the woman who had freed her mind, as she had tried to enslave it in a new kind of prison. She knew that she had been helpless to resist those imagined commands to hold tighter, yet she still felt the horror of splintering bones and crumbling flesh as it had yielded against the steel of her own body.
Picking up her backpack again and walking confidently out the door, she turned down the hallway toward the fire escape. Looking out through the window, she saw that the earlier drizzle had changed into a full-fledged downpour. It was going to be a long trip home, and she'd be soaked to the skin.
But did she really have to walk or ride the bus home? What was it that Dr. Vasquez had awakened in her?
Fly.
Yes, that was it! She could fly! Without giving it another thought, she pushed open the door, unmindful of the small depressions her fingers made in the brass plate, and stepped out onto the small balcony.
The wind blew cold rain against her. A small part of her mind told her she should be cold, but it felt bracing, almost refreshing.
Her conscious mind had very little to do with what was happening. It was as if her body knew what it was doing. Barely sparing a glance at the evening rush hour traffic on the street four stories below, she leaped over the wrought iron railing.
She didn't fall. Instead she rose.
Lightning seemed to follow her as she rose higher and higher into the sky, right into the heart of the storm.
Rain turned to hail, little pellets of ice pummeling her body. They should have hurt but didn't. In fact, she barely noticed them at all. Nor was her flight affected in the least by the swirling wind currents as she flew straight as an arrow.
Everything was clear to her now. The glass cage and the fire. The old man. He was indeed a wizard, but his name wasn't Gandalf the Gray. His name was...
No, she couldn't say it. Not now, not while she was in flight, lest she change back to Mary Chandler, who couldn't fly and thus would fall to her death.
She also knew that her father, her real father, was not Nick Anderson, or Nick Chandler, or whoever that photograph in the kitchen was of. No, her real father had to be the great superhero Captain Marvel, the World's Mightiest Mortal. Mary had never actually seen him; he'd disappeared --- killed fighting some supervillain? --- about the time she'd been born.
And her mother... Had she been married to Captain Marvel? Or was she illegitimate, a love child? Or maybe the result of a one-night stand? Maybe he'd discarded her when he'd found out she was pregnant?
Mary decided that it didn't really matter. Whether or not her father had stayed or abandoned her, Mary's mother loved her enough for two, and that was what really mattered.
Her thoughts were interrupted as she broke out of the clouds into the afternoon sunshine. That reminded her that she --- Mary Chandler, that is --- had to get home before her mother --- Nora Chandler, that is --- got home from the university.
Looking down, she saw nothing but the tops of the clouds. From above, they were white and fluffy, like a mound of pillows. No, more like big piles of cotton candy. It was hard to believe that a violent storm raged within them, even though she'd just flown through them. Even now, the sun and the speed of her passage was drying her off.
She realized she wasn't going to be able to find her house from up here. She would have to go back down, down into the storm. But how? She was still rising, on her original flight path. How was she to change direction? She didn't want to find herself in orbit, or worse, escaping Earth's gravity well completely and heading out into outer space.
She nearly panicked, picturing herself flying off into outer space, never to return. But another, calmer part of her mind reminded her that she was heiress to Captain Marvel. She was now the World's Mightiest Girl. She was supposed to be able to fly wherever she wanted to go. This was part of her birthright.
Concentrating on what she was doing, she managed to slow her flight, still ascending but now at a much more sedate pace.
Eventually Mary remembered that while she might be the World's Mightiest Girl, she still had a home she had to return to. Having practiced some maneuvers, she managed to stop her ascent and hovered in place and looked down.
Clouds covered the ground as far as she could see, still looking like big piles of cotton candy. Somewhere down below those clouds was Fawcett City, and home. But where?
There was only one way to find out. Feeling like a swimmer about to go off the high board, she took a deep breath and started to descend toward the fluffy white cloud tops far below.
The clouds may have been fluffy and white on top, but it was a completely different story inside. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed around her. Wind buffeted her body. Hailstones pelted her. Between lightning flashes, it was almost pitch black. She held her course until she was through, coming out into the driving rain below the clouds.
The wind and rain continued to buffet her body. And again, without any appreciable effect on her course.
The problem was, she didn't know what course she should be taking. She'd never seen downtown from the air, and with the storm reducing visibility, she couldn't orient herself. From above, one building looked pretty much like another. She ventured lower, hoping to spot something recognizable.
She got lucky. Crossing over a broad highway, she saw a sign directing drivers to the campus of Fawcett State University, where her mother worked. She followed the arrow, turning right. Climbing slightly until she was almost into the clouds again, she soon spotted the sprawling campus. From here she could navigate home; she'd ridden with her mother enough times.
Though flying above the roads was quite different from sitting in the passenger seat of a car. Lacking the confidence to take a more direct route, she followed the route her mother usually took. Eventually, she reached the familiar neighborhood.
From above, it didn't look familiar at all. She flew back and forth several times before she finally located her home.
Now what? She couldn't very well fly into the house. Nor could she just land on the doorstep. Not with her control being what it was.
In fact, she wasn't sure whether she could land at all.
Flying up in the air was one thing, where she didn't have to worry about bumping into things. At least nothing bigger than a hailstone. But coming back down to earth was a different matter entirely.
She thought about making a try for the back porch. But if she misjudged it, she could end up going right through the wooden deck. Or maybe even through the wall and into the kitchen. She wasn't too afraid of hurting herself --- she was now the World's Mightiest girl, after all --- but smashing the deck into kindling or knocking a hole in the kitchen wall was not a very good way to make her first aerial homecoming. Not to mention making her mother cross with Mary.
She finally decided there was only one way to come down from the sky: fly low and then stop flying and just let gravity do its thing. The fall wouldn't hurt her, she was sure, and if she was low enough then she wouldn't make a crater in the yard upon impact --- she hoped.
She made a practice pass over the back yard, swooping in from left to right, over one neighbor's yard then hers and then the Carlsons', under the trees and over the fence. Satisfied that she could come in below the level of the trees without actually crashing into something, she turned, circled around, and came in again. Then, right over the center of the yard, she willed herself to stop flying, forcing herself to relax and going completely limp.
An experienced flyer would never have made that particular mistake. Someone with a decent grasp of high school physics might not have made that mistake, had she taken the time to think about it, though she may not have known how just much to adjust her flight to correct for it. If Mary had let her body control her descent, she might have made a better landing. But the finely tuned instrument that was the body of the World's Mightiest Girl were obeying the signals coming from the mind of Mary Chandler.
Unaccustomed to flying under her own power, Mary had failed to account for the forward velocity component of her magically powered flight. Instead of dropping straight down when she stopped flying, that momentum continued to carry her forward. Limbs flailing loosely, she came down hard, plowing headfirst directly into the hedge separating the Chandler's yard from the Carlsons'. The prickly leaves tore at her costume, her face, her hair, her exposed arms and legs, as she tumbled through the hedge. Coming through the other side, she cartwheeled once, then bounced once on her head, before her motion finally stopped and she came to rest, her face pressed into the wet grass, her arms and legs spread wide, her backpack beside her.
