Soviet Superwear part one

"IT'S HERE!! Itshereitshereitshereitshereitshere!!" Valentina squealed happily as she heard the breaks hiss on the delivery truck outside. She began jumping up and down and clapping, her feet pounding on the floor with every excited hop.

She dashed over to the door and threw it open violently. The upper most hinge on the ripped loose, and the heavy oak door sagged in defeat after having been torn open so savagely. The knob punched a hole in the drywall, cracks and fractures webbing outwards from the point of impact. The delivery man walking up the pathway from the street popped his eyes open in a mixture of surprise, terror as an enormous redhead barreled out of the house and began charging him. He screamed a decidedly unmanly scream and tossed the box he was carrying at her and bolted back to his truck. Valentina caught the medium sized box with ease and hugged it to her body.

"Thank you!" she called with a wave as the delivery man fumbled with the gear stick to pull his truck out of park and peel out down the street, streaming a long blue cloud of exhaust.

"The hell is going on down here?" Andy demanded from inside the house. His face switched from confusion to annoyed confusion when he saw the destruction Valentina's excitement wreaked upon their front door "What happened to the door?!"

"Oh, nevermind that!" Valentina replied, waving him off. She giddily marched back into the house, shifting the light box from both hands to one, and scooping up her irked boyfriend under the other arm. She kicked the door shut as she carried him back into the house, causing it to flap against the doorway, but bounce back ajar with a horrible rattle. Andy groaned, adding one more thing to the list of home repairs his girlfriend 'accidentally' necessitated. "It's finally here!" Valentina dropped the box onto the kitchen table and tucked her hands under her boyfriend's armpits and hoisted him up into the air. She hummed a happy little tune and spun him around.

"I'm almost afraid to a-a-a-a-ask!" Andy intoned nauseously against the g-forces he was subjected to. "Alright already! Put me down, woman! I'm going to be sick!" Valentina crushed him against her steely body with a warm, loving hug and a cute giggle and then complied.

"My new workout gear finally came! Isn't that great?" Valentina exclaimed, checking him with her hip. Andy wobbled off balance, catching the counter to prevent sprawling on the floor.

"Outstanding," he grunted, still dizzy from being tossed around like a ragdoll and miffed about the damaged front door. "What's could this possibly be to warrant such insanity out of you?"

"My new gymwear, silly!" Valentina stated turning her attention to the box sitting on the table. "Remember?" Andy opened one of the drawers to retrieve a boxcutter for Valentina so she might open her package, but she had already set about eviscerating the corrugated paper like a wild animal trying to get the tasty vittles inside. He pursed his lips and put the useless tool back into the drawer. Valentina produced a plastic bag with what looked to be a couple of t-shirts inside. "Ta Da!" she crowed, holding it out for him with a cheesy grin. A sheet of paper fluttered to the ground. Andy picked it up, and gave it a once over.

"We see the pain in your eyes. We sense your anger, your feelings of betrayal, and your disgust. And we at Soviet Superwear are with you. The time is coming, comrades! The time to stand up and be heard is nearly upon us and you must be prepared. You must be outfitted with the best! No more will inferior Capitalist Pigdogs outfit you with clothing made from the blood, sweat, and tears of the Oppressed! Soviet Superwear was designed for this moment in time. Seize it! When you don our apparel, you will know at once that you are not alone and that you can be heard. You will be heard! All Soviet Superwear apparel are constructed in the factories of your brethren and designed to even the most strenuous of labor. The oppressors will be fast - we know this - Soviet Superwear helps you to be even quicker, stronger, more fashionable! Rise with us! Together we will forge a better tomorrow! Да здравствует великая теория Маркса, Энгельса, Ленина-Сталина!" 

"All of this for a couple of shirts?" Andy balked, gesturing to the leaflet incredulously.

"Not just any shirt, sweetie!" Valentina said, gripping the front of her current shirt and ripping it to pieces and letting the tatters fall to the floor. Valentina's mighty, nude physique rippled with the slightest impulse as she tore open the plastic bag. Andy couldn't help but rake his eyes over her naked torso. "My new Soviet Superwear!"

"'Soviet?' You're about 30 years too late for that party, babe," Andy remarked drolly.

"Ha ha," Valentina shot back, rolling her blue eyes and pulling out one of the shirts. It was grey with black markings on the shoulders and a red Hammer and Sickle insignia with a red star hovering above it on the chest. The shirt initially seemed way too small, but it stretched powerfully as Valentina pulled it over her head. The shirt conformed to her enormous muscles easily. The contours of her muscles filled the shirt out marvelously. The bouldered might of her enormous shoulders blasted outwards when she placed her hands on her hips. The shimmering fabric of the sleeves caught the light, casting the nooks and crannies of her deltoid striations in the light. Valentina's biceps stretched the sleeves to the zenith unflexed. Andy's mouth went dry considering what they might do to the shirt at full mast. The depth and breadth of her pecs stretched the poor communist insignia out horizontally. Her nipples poked through the shiny grey fabric. The outline of her abs stood in relief on the underside of her shirt. "What do you think?" Valentina asked with a smile too ravishing to ignore.

"It's-it's-it's-it's... still a shirt," Andy said shrugging, unsure of what was expected of him. Valentina shot him an annoyed look.

"I mean besides that," she prompted him.

"One that actually fits for once. You can't say that about 80% of your wardrobe. It hasn't burst into confetti yet. You've got that going for you, which is nice."

"Exactly!" Valentina said. "It's made out of the same material that Soviet Superwoman's outfit is made out of. It's guaranteed to hold."

"Wait," Andy said, holding up a finger. "Soviet Superwoman? Isn't her outfit always getting torn in conveniently alluring ways whether she's spreading Trotskyist propaganda to school children or taking Nazi MG-42 fire? Hell, a slight breeze blows by her and she's naked, seems like. Not that I'm complaining, of course."

"Now see here," Valentina said in a surprisingly commanding voice. "Soviet Superwoman is a hero of the people. I will not tolerate any mouthiness out of you about her."

"Who's getting mouthy?" Andy protested, spreading his hands conciliatorily. "I'm not saying she isn't. I'm just saying it's not exactly a great selling point on a piece of apparel to be made out of the same material as one of her outfits, which seems to be wet Kleenex. I mean, it's an absolute engineering marvel to make and entire jumpsuit out of such flimsy fabric don'tcha think? You give me a couple of cobwebs and a loom and I'm sure I might be able to cobble together something a little stronger."

"I'm getting ready to give you a swat on the bottom if you keep that up," Valentina warned firmly. "She's a hero. End of discussion."

"Alright, alright," Andy conceded. "I'm done. How much did that cost?"

"It wasn't that expensive," Valentina deflected with shifting eyes.

"Oh, really?" Andy questioned, seeing right through her attempt at fibbing with an irritated quirk of his brow. Valentina just couldn't act. "Isn't that kind of anti-thetical to the whole 'Work, Land, Bread' thing they're pushing here?" he said gesturing to the propagandist leaflet he still held in his hand.

"Oh, that's just a little bit of flavor. Soviet Superwoman is donating all the proceeds of this stuff to good causes around the world!"

"Uh huh," Andy grunted dubiously running calculations in his head as to how much this clothing cost, figuring that he probably wasn't even close and deciding for the sake of his blood pressure not to press the issue. "How's it fitting?"

"Perfectly," Valentina replied, rolling her neck, and swinging her arms. The marvelous shirt somehow held. She balled her fists and willed her muscles to expand as much as they could. The shirt continued to stretch and conform to her body. "Rragh!" Valentina uttered, throwing her arms into a double bicep flex. Her muscles ballooned into huge peaks. Her biceps rapidly ascended like a stereoscopic time-lapsed projection of the formation of Mt. Everest. She held the flex, her fists quivering from the strain of such a powerful display. She directed it at her doubting boyfriend. Andy couldn't help but swallow drily, or feel his erection blossom in his pants. She smirked superiorly, both at his apparent arousal and his stunned silence. "You see? Soviet Superwoman would never lend her name to such and inferior prod-" Almost as if on cue, Valentina felt the seams burst all over the shirt.

"You were saying?" Andy commented with a darkly amused grin.

Valentina's face transformed from smug, to shocked, to wrathful in the span of a second.

"Вы ебля шутишь?!"
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Soviet Superwoman belongs to . I'm sure she would never allow such shoddy manufacturing to fly. Let's just say there are people out there willing to put her name to their clothing line, and Valentina, being a massive fan, was swayed with wearing the colors of her hero. This was meant to be a little silly. Hopefully she won't mind.