THE ORIGIN OF THE SENSATIONAL G-GIRL
as told to Dennis Mallonee and Mark Beachum
by Billi Jayne Jensen herself!

CHAPTER ONE

Hi, my name's Billi Jayne.

I'm letting my friends call me Beej, but these days, most people know me better as the SENSATIONAL G-GIRL. I'm a full-fledged member of the League of Champions. And according to the tabloids, I'm America's newest superhero sweetheart sensation.

But the truth is, I'm not really a girl at all.

Don't misunderstand. I'm not saying I'm not physically a girl. Not only does the Sensational G-Girl not have any stupidly annoying boy parts danglin' down there between her shapely, well-muscled thighs, even I have to admit that I'm actually kind of starting to like it that being changed into a girl gave me such really nice curves. It's also pretty clear, given the way most guys have been reacting to me, that I'm what you'd call drop-dead gorgeous. Which fact I'm also kind of starting to like. So physically, and maybe at this point even emotionally, I really am absolutely, completely, one hundred percent female.

But a couple of weeks ago, I was a boy.

Back then, my name was William Jefferson Jensen, and I had a really cool superpower. Like my dad and my granddad before me, I could change myself into GIANT, the first and greatest Champion of them all. But that's changed. By it's nature, the power of Giant is a masculine power. And I'm completely a girl.

It's not too bad. I'm nowhere near as strong as I could get back when I could change into Giant, but the Sensational G-Girl isn't exactly weak. I also seem to be a lot more lithe and nimble than I used to be, and I still heal extremely fast. So, all things considered, at least from the standpoint of being a superhero, I don't think I've lost very much. And as I skip along into downtown San Francisco, wearing my skimpy little golden G-shaped bathing-suit costume, trying to ignore the fact that just about every guy I pass is scopin' me out, my G-Girl powers are what I'm about to put to the test.

A bit of background, here. The villain I'm about to confront is the abominable Ogre. He's one of the League of Champions' oldest, most dangerous enemies. He's incredibly strong, almost impossible to hurt, and nowhere near as stupid as most people think. But he's never had a very good grip on his temper, which means he's basically an overgrown monster who has a tendency to go off on destructive rampages. The last time Ogre showed up, it was Giant who stymied him. That's why Ogre's on a rampage right now, calling for Giant to come and face him. He wants a rematch. Problem is, as I've already indicated, Giant isn't available. In fact, except for me, the whole League of Champions is off on a super-secret mission I'm not supposed to talk about. When the Champions left, I was really ticked off that they didn't take me with them. But I suppose, given that Ogre's shown up, it was a good thing I didn't get to go. Because somebody needs to stop him. Which is exactly what I'm going to do.

Have I made it clear that even though there are some things about being a girl that I'm actually kind of starting to like, there are a lot of things about it that I don't like? There are certain obvious advantages to being able to be so completely feminine. And I don't exactly dislike how it feels having a really nice pair of boobs. But benefits aside, this whole business of being a girl is at best problematic. The problem is that I'm not comfortable doing girl things. I like doing guy things. For example, I like playing baseball. I also like hanging out with my pal Joey. And I especially like teasin' my obnoxious little brother Jimmy. On a fundamental level, it really freakin' bugs me that Joey's been going ga-ga over Billi Jayne. And it worries me that I don't get all that upset whenever Jimmy tells me I'm so super hot this way that I need to give some serious thought to the idea of stayin' a girl.

I do, however, have to give Jimmy some credit for cleverness, because the official story of Billi Jayne was his idea. What we've been telling people is that the reason Billi Jayne hasn't been around the past few years is because she's been going to school in England. But now that she's all done with that, she's finally come home, just in time to be here to step in and take care of little brother Jimmy while twin brother Will is off on his first archeological expedition with Mom. Archeology is kind of a family tradition. More on that later.

There's good news and there's bad news. The good news is that the fact I'm with the League of Champions seems to have worked with the police. They're letting me take a shot at taking care of the Ogre problem. The bad news is that now I have to get in there and take Ogre down. And that's not going to be easy. Ogre's a lot bigger than I am. I'm five-foot-eight, and weigh about 130. He's more than seven feet tall, and packs maybe five or six hundred pounds of solid muscle into that bulky frame. Even if, pound for pound, I can match him strengthwise, he still has a huge advantage of mass and reach on me. So I'll have to be clever about this.

I really miss being able to change into Giant. Like I said, back before I screwed up and got myself changed into a such a sexy little girl, I used to be able to change into Giant without even wearing Giant's magic harness. All I had to do was concentrate on getting bigger, and I could transform into a super-sized, super-strong superhero! Problem was, when Mom found out that's what I'd been doing, it so completely ticked her off that she grounded me! Which to me seemed completely bogus, given that Mom was doing superhero stuff herself as the Nemesis Girl. I suppose I kind of understand why me being able to change into Giant bothered her. Mom never really knew grampa. He died when she was little. And when I was only three years old, I saw my own father get himself killed. But what's the point of being able to do superhero stuff if you aren't allowed to do it?

Ha! More good news! Ogre seems puzzled. For the moment, he's stopped ripping things apart. He's trying to figure out why, instead of Giant, there's a sexy little girl in a bathing suit standing in front of him. I suppose, given that me being here has calmed him down, I should be trying to reason with him. But if he pokes me with that oversized finger again... Aw, heck. I'll do it anyway. He's been spoiling for a fight. Might as well give him one.

Gawd, I love this. Goin' toe-to-toe with the Ogre is the most fun I've had in a fortnight. He's still havin' trouble figurin' out how to fight me. And I'm havin' a little trouble with it, too. I'm more agile than he is, which means I'm hitting him more than he's hitting me, but I'm definitely not as strong as he is. Even a glancing blow from one of his fists feels like I'm being hit with a sledgehammer. I wish I were doing more damage. I need to put him away fast. If he takes me down, or I can't keep his attention, he's going to start looking for other targets.

Maybe I should backtrack a bit. Two weeks ago, it was a different kind of sledgehammer that hit me. My pal Joey had found a box of old girly magazines stashed away in his dad's garage, and brought them over to share with me. There wasn't anything in there you couldn't see these days on the Internet, but it was still kind of interesting to see how Playboy and Penthouse used to do it. And it was really interesting to see pictures from a decade or so ago, pictures of today's supermodels like Fala Brazil and Anysha Grant, from back when they were really, really young. But of them all, the centerfold I really liked was one from almost twenty years ago, a bosomy, leggy redhead named J J Johnson. I even said so to Joey, who when I showed him that shot did a double-take, and after a couple of seconds wondered, "Ummm, Will, I hate to rain on your parade, but doesn't that J J Johnson girl look a lot like a teenaged version of your mom?"

The sledgehammer was the fact that J J Johnson freakin' was my mom. I recognized the birthmark. So after I chased Joey off, I went upstairs to talk to her about it. She was not in a good mood. Icestar had just canceled on her. There was some kind of museum event she'd been getting ready for. Icestar was supposed to have been her escort to the dinner. Mom and Icestar had been seeing each other, off and on, for a couple of years. And I guess by this time Icestar was technically Mom's boyfriend. But much as I like him, Icestar can be a real jerk. Mom usually puts up with it. But this time, she was furious. She didn't care that there was something urgent Icestar needed to take care of with Doctor Arcane. She needed him, and he was letting her down. I barged in on her as she was getting ready to slam the phone down. And once I was in there, I suddenly realized she hadn't finished gettin' dressed. Specifically, she wasn't wearing anything up top! And when she turned toward me, those great big, absolutely perfect, perfectly wonderful, gravity-defying bazongas were right there in front of my face. The good thing about that was that me crossin' my fingers over my eyes struck Mom as funny, and actually lightened her mood. Which made it a lot easier, after she obliged me by slippin' into her baggy "I'm an Icestar Groupie" T-shirt, to ask her about that centerfold thing.

There was a whole story behind it. Mom wasn't especially proud of the fact she'd done the centerfold thing, but it was because she'd done it that she'd met my dad. So if she hadn't done it, I wouldn't have been there to ask her about it. And thinking about Dad got her to thinking about maybe taking me with her to that museum event. She absolutely had to have an escort. That's why she'd been so furious with Icestar. Evidently, some rich European guy named Charles Martel had been hitting on her. Given that Martel had been donating big chunks of money to the museum, Mom didn't want to turn him down flat. She'd even gone so far as to dye her hair blonde, instead of her usual red, just because he'd asked her to. But that, she insisted, was as far as she was willing to go with him. And that was why she needed an escort. To keep Mister Martel at bay. Which purpose, come to think of it, bringing her teenaged son with her might serve even better than having Icestar as her date.

Okay, this is weird. I'm still fighting Ogre. But I'm not sure he's all that interested in fighting me. I really gotta figure out how to cut this short.

Before we left for the museum event, Mom showed me a mash note Martel had sent her. There were several suggestions as to things Mom might do for him in order to encourage further donations to the museum, the most innocuous of which was going blonde for him. It was the suggestion that Mom might consider a "threesome with your pretty teenaged daughter" that clued her in on the possibility that Mister Martel might not be as good a catch as she'd been hoping. Never mind the fact that Mom didn't even have a teenaged daughter. It was obvious from the tone of the mash note that Martel, in addition to being fabulously wealthy, was one sick puppy. The trick now was to let him down gently. My thought was to go to this museum event not as me, but as Giant. Me and Mom had faked a boyfriend-girlfriend thing once before, in order to throw the evil Doctor Pomegranate off the trail of who this new Giant really was. And I figured, if we could convince Martel that Mom and Giant were an item, he'd back off real fast. Mom vetoed it. Said there was no way I'd get to use this Charles Martel business as an excuse to use the magic harness. She sent me to dig one of Dad's old suits out of the attic. I picked out one that was a little baggy, but it almost fit.

Oh, good grief. Is that what I think it is? Ogre's definitely stopped trying to hit me! Now he's got somethin' else in mind. And he's freakin' tryin' t'grab me in order to do it!

The thing that made my eyes bug out while Mom and I were in the reception line at the museum was seein' who Charles Martel arrived with. It was none other than the incomprable Fala Brazil! She was a little older than she'd been a decade ago in those girly mag photos, but it was her. All blonde and pert and perfect! And the accent was to die for! She's from somewhere in South America. For some reason, Martel seemed convinced I was a girl, and wondered why in the world Mom had dressed me up as a boy. Mom tried to put him straight on that subject, but it wasn't until Fala put it to the test by giving me a heart-stopping smooch that my reaction persuaded Martel he'd been greatly mistaken. And got Mom kind of upset with Fala, to the point that she briefly considered blowing off Martel's invitation to join him at his table for dinner.

Which brings me to the interesting question of how, being stuck as a girl myself for the time being, I was able to turn that to my advantage in my fight with Ogre. Suffice it to say that no matter how strong you are, if you get caught short of breath, it only takes about a dozen seconds to black out. Never mind how I was able to get him to let me do it. Just accept the fact that I managed to get Ogre's face in a leg-lock and stop him from breathing. The cops have him now. And I'm kind of stuck having to deal with the press. So I guess, for right now, that's about as far as we're going to get with this story. Next time, I'll definitely tell you the rest of what happened with Mom and Fala Brazil and Charles Martel at that museum dinner. And how it all relates to why I figure, in retrospect, it had to have been Martel who set the whole thing up, so that it would be me instead of Icestar sitting with them at that table.

TO BE CONTINUED
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