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Chapter 13
by
fyreant
What's next?
(Lynn #1) You get teleported unexpectedly and find yourself stuck in an awkward, compromising position...
Just as you are wondering what you're going to do next now that Nigthingale has fluttered off, you are looking in the fridge to see if Petite Mort had any snacks worth stealing.
"Hot damn! There's a whole plate of little ham sandwiches in here! I was worried it'd be health food or something. Maybe that little science geek ain't so bAHHHHH OH GOD, OH LORD JESUS HELP ME!!!"
Mid-sentence you have been sucked into some kind of terrifying, gloom-shrouded hellscape and feel so cold that the very life is draining out of you. You fumble around for any kind of light. Ever since you became a heroine you've been afraid that a supervillain would suddenly kill you with no warning and no chance to fight back, by making your head explode before you ever knew you were under attack, or something like that. Reassurances that supervillains didn't do that sort of thing usually came with some kind of qualifier ("usually", "generally", "as far as I know") that didn't comfort you.
But just as you are starting to protest to anyone listening that you were a good girl, aside from a little underage drinking and premarital sex, and should be going to heaven, the dreadful cold ends and you see light again.
You've never been so happy to see the inside of a grimy, low-rent liquor store. You sigh with relief and look around yourself. No one is in sight, and the lights are off. It seems odd they'd be closed at this hour, as it's only the late afternoon. However, that quickly proves to be a secondary concern.
"What in the devil is..." you look down as you notice that you can't walk and feel something cold and hard poking your ribcage. Looking down, you see that your body is emerging from a wall! Feeling it with your hands you can see that you are wedged into the wall at your lower chest as if it was built around you. Fearfully, you try to move your leg. You can still feel your legs and even the breeze on your exposed butt-cheeks. You try to push forward so that you can get yourself out of this tight spot. Unfortunately, although there's a little bit of slack, your hips are a bit too wide to easily slide out without forcing it... and your costume is snagged by something.
Instead, you try pulling backwards so that you can yank yourself out, exhaling as much as you can. You are just about to slide out when the pair of hefty, bouncing-prone boobs that have made you so popular with photographers get in the way, starting to get painfully pinched by the edge of the hole. By the feel of it, there's metal rebar in there, bent into a circle around you. If you were at full strength you MIGHT be able to smash your way free with your fists, but you're not.
"Well, shit." you say with a sigh. "Good thing I used the bathroom before this lil' trip. I better wait here for now. If she was teleporting around I bet Magik Whatsername did this. I'd hate to have to damage a citizen's store any worse just to get out. Hmm... maybe there'll be a good samaritan out there. I reckon if I held my chest with both arms I might be able to squeeze out without getting hurt, I just can't get no leverage with my feet, all bent over and awkward like this..." You start knocking on the wall with your fists and stamping the ground with one of your boots. "Hey! Is there anybody out there? I could use some help over here!"
What's next?
Perils of a Novice Superheroine
A generic superheroing setting drenched with sex and scandal
Acropolis City, the center of super-human and caped crusader activity in this particular world - with its own dizzying highs and lows, high-tech skylines and slums standing in stark, four-color contrast, it provided everything that a costumed megalomaniac or masked vigilante could ask for. In fact, as is usually the case where colorful masked characters are the norm, it has become something of an institution by this point. But although the mere existence of costumed heroes and villains no longer shocks people, these people - who, by their very nature, thrive on attention - keep finding new ways to stand out from the crowd and attract the eye. This last goal tends to get a lot of emphasis in the most simple, sexualized way possible. For reasons that the world's most brilliant scientists have yet to explain, latent super-abilities seem to manifest more often in women than men by a ratio of 3 to 1 or more. This is true even when the superpower isn't "natural"; paranormal artifacts fall into their hands, esoteric martial arts schools never seem to have a male heir, the technological prototypes they test always seem to be the ones that are most easily used or abused for good and evil. Unfortunately, the glory days of the past where citizens were happy to see any old masked do-gooder show up are over - in recent years, Acropolis City has established a ranking system of heroes where those who get high marks from the citizens and resolve incidents are rewarded with corporate sponsorships and (most coveted of all) seats at the prestigious League of Propriety. Those who intimidate the populace, cause excessive collateral damage, or simply don't excite anyone, garnering low rankings, get 'asked' to move to less prestigious cities. Few superheroes want to get stuck battling clans of villainous hillbillies and corrupt small-town sheriffs for the rest of their careers, so they're always eager to please the influential citizens of Acropolis City (judges, eminent scientists, first responders, and of course the all-important reporters). On the other side of the law, a similar dynamic predominates; only the most glamorous and charismatic costumed ne'er-do-wells can make it in this town. And so, the novice superheroines just learning the ways of battling for justice and order, without any team to back them up, always end up patrolling the skeeviest, most undesirable slums of the city and taking on the most thankless rescues. As if that weren't bad enough, most of them feel obliged to dress in ways that get more outlandish and revealing with every passing year while they fight the good fight and/or feed their craving for attention, depending on how you see the 'cape life'. As if that weren't troublesome enough, the superhuman mutations that make so many of these heroes' careers possible also result in greatly increased sexual sensitivity, particularly in females. The adventures and misadventures that these spandex-clad lady crusaders get into are often too hot to print for the kind of comics that their young admirers would read. Messy mistakes will be made, but you don't want to disappoint your readers, do you? So let the League know what kind of superheroine you are, your chosen name, powers, and appearance, and they'll send you out on your first patrols. Good luck.
Updated on Dec 27, 2025
by micdan282
Created on Nov 30, 2016
by fyreant
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