A Tramp Stamp

In her career as a superheroine, the Invisible Woman had been chloroformed, concussed, subject to mystical paralysis, tazed, had her mind and body manipulated by psychic powers, been **** by every means known—yet she had never felt that combination of sudden powerlessness and yet utter awareness. In the light of the yellow crystal, her invisibility failed and her muscles lost all strength. Weak as a kitten, she still struggled in Porkum's grip, until the mutant pressed the glowing crystal against her neck. Instantly, Sue Storm struggled to breathe, her body limp as a cat that didn't want to be moved.

Yet worse than that, she was still aware of everything that happened to her. How Porkum carried her, limp and unable to resist, away from his trash-strewn lair and into the kitchen, which was unusually clean and hygienic.

Porkum laid Sue down on a long, stainless-steel countertop, breasts down. The Defraudium crystal he laid between her shoulder blades. Even without direct contact with her skin, Sue Storm could barely move. Her breasts smooshed against the hard metal surface, just to suck in air meant a fight against gravity. Satisfied that the Invisible Woman was incapacitated, Porkum got to work.

Sue could do nothing as he rattled through various drawers. She heard metal implements. The buzz of something small and electric. Then one pink paw fumbled at her back, until he found the seam in her costume that separated the top and bottom halves. Porkum whistled as he pulled her pants down, just far enough to expose the crack of the Invisible Woman's ass. If she had the strength, Sue would have sworn at him. Instead, she steeled herself for the inevitable violation.

Except the pig-man stopped short before he exposed her entire ass. Something cold and wet was wiped on her lower back, just above her buttocks and the crack of her ass-cleavage. The buzz started. Sue's mouth went dry as her body instinctively froze in place. Not sure what was about to happen. Her mind conjured up grisly surgeries, or perhaps the implantation of some kind of mind control chip at the base of her spine—

Then a needle penetrated her skin. Little more than a bee-sting. Sue grimaced—and continued to grimace harder as the bee-sting was drawn through her flesh. Again and again, as Porkum whistled, the small dark eyes brought down close so that he could see to work, the hot breathe from his snout almost on her ass cheeks as the small pain continued, sketched slowly over a larger and larger area...and Sue's lower back was a mass of dull pain, from hip to hip across her back, just above her buttocks.

Sue Storm wasn't sure how long the ordeal went on. Minutes, perhaps an hour or more. Porkum only paused to refresh the ink on the electric tattoo gun, or to stretch a cramped hand. The captured heroine was cognizant of her own body's needs. The exhaustion from lack of sleep, the strange sensual heat that built up in her body from this close proximity to the pig-man's musk, her bladder **** for release. Yet after an intolerably long while, Porkum sat back to eye his work critically.

"Not much of an artist," he admitted. "But I took some art classes in prison. Mostly out of a hope we'd have a nude model some day. Didn't happen. Not like they thought it would, anyway. But I've got good hand-eye coordination. Steady hands. And when I've got a canvas like this to work on, well!"

One pink paw slapped the heroine's ass—than lingered and squeezed a cheek. Sue couldn't see the dark gleam in the mutant's eye as he admired his handiwork.

"Now," he said. "Time for nighty-night."

Sue gasped as the needle was jabbed into her ass. Powerless, she felt the darkness creep in on the edges of her vision as Porkum applied a bandage.

A cab pulled up in front of the Baxter Building. The door of the automobile opened up just long enough for the Invisible Woman to be laid on the ground. Then it pulled away. That early in the morning, there was little foot traffic. None of the cars on the road stopped. It was still New York City, after all. Sue Storm's head swam as she raised herself onto her hands and knees. She crawled toward the Baxter Building. Then, as her powers returned to her, invisible hands lifted her up. Until the Invisible Woman limped into the building.

Her face burned with humiliation as she rode the elevator up. The Fantasticar, she remembered, was back near Porkum's hideout. Numbly, she tapped the remote control that would bring it back to the Baxter Building on autopilot.

She knew by the time she returned, Porkum would be long gone. Whatever else he was—a cruel, lecherous pig of a man—he wasn't stupid. A part of Sue was aware that she was in shock. Yet as she entered the Fantastic Four's living quarters, all she could think about was the full-length mirrors in her bedroom. Shed clothing along the way. The costume that smelled so much like him.

Naked, Sue Storm stood before the mirror. Eyes red, though all the tears had been cried out. She saw the square white bandage, secured with medical tape. Her fingers trembled as she pulled it away from her skin. Sue ignored the pain. She had to know what was under it. What he had done to her.

The blood-stained bandage fell away. Sue stared at the great raw wound that would, in time, scab over and heal. Yet right now it was sharp and vivid. The mark Porkum had left on her flesh.

A tramp stamp.