Chapter Nineteen

Enhancer?!

Silvejia nearly choked on her own saliva. Enhancers were rare as rocking-horse shit and guarded like nuclear codes. They did not stroll city streets, flopping out radioactive horse-cocks between moralizing lectures. He had to be bluffing.

And yet… the gravitational pull of that leviathan knob was indisputable. Her mindstone burned faintly under her holo-disguise.

Wildfire, of course, didn’t hesitate. With a feral little whimper, redheaded pyromancer deftly wrangled Brick’s mighty fuckstaff in her small hands and lashed a loooong lick up its underside–leaning so far back she might’ve been auditioning for the world’s dirtiest limbo contest.

At the tip, a bead of golden precum gleamed like treasure at the end of a blasphemous rainbow. It shone bright as liquid sunshine, and she slurped it down without hesitation.

“Ohhhhmygaaawd~!” Her body jolted as though zapped by The Human Taser. Instead of retreating, she dove back in, gobbling greedily. “Glooophhh!”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” Brick patted her bobbing head like a coach congratulating a rookie. “A little effort makes all the difference. There’s still hope for you, um…” He squinted, fumbling for her name.

“Wildfire.” Silvejia spat the ridiculous moniker like poison. “The street thug sucking your dick is called Wildfire.”

Her barb skittered off his bulletproof ego without leaving a scratch.

“Oh yeah, thanks. There’s still hope for you, Wildfire. Power and responsibility walk arm-in-arm. Squandering your gifts only hurts you and those you care about.”

“Mmmhmmm!” The fox-girl gurgled in sloppy agreement, peeling open her biker vest to rub what little cleavage she had against his throbbing shaft. Her perky breasts barely dented his drool-inducing dick, so she used her whole torso instead, enveloping that monstrosity in a full-body hug.

Silvejia’s nails bit crescents into her palms. Heat coiled in her belly, shameful and consuming. Lust tangled her tongue, drowned beneath saliva.

“You can’t… you can’t…” Her voice cracked, alien dignity fraying thread by thread. Envy scorched her like acid. “Make her stop—you can’t do that here!”

The uber-hung hero seemed startled by her objection, then barked out a laugh. Wildfire shot her a dirty look but didn’t cease sliding up and down his prodigious pole or slobbering all over the tip, her cheeks slick with spit and determination.

“Ha! It’s been so long since a woman last snapped at me, I almost forgot what it sounded like. Feels refreshing, actually. But…” His tone softened into mock reason as he glanced down at the fox-girl’s slavering devotion. “You do make a fair point.”

Without another word, Brick braced one hand against a nearby dumpster. Metal shrieked. Rusted rivets popped. The whole hulking container—three tonnes of rotting trash and iron—slid across the alley like a cardboard box. He planted it firmly against the opening, sealing them into a rancid steel tomb.

“There. A bit more private now.” He said. “Happy?”

Silvejia gaped in disbelief, clit tingling at the effortless display. He’d penned them in without even thinking. Sealed her in with them, as though she were some complicit accomplice while they… they…

Fuck!

She could escape, of course. A mere dumpster was no obstacle to Silver Streak. But as she watched the fox-cunt gobble that gigantic glowtick, her brain betrayed her with excuses.

She had to apprehend the beastkin for questioning. Yes. That was her duty. The way the ginger’s tail wagged while she gagged herself on his ginormous girth was simply… evidence collection.

And Brick—no, Just Brick—needed supervision. That shimmering, strobing pillar was an obvious Class-A anomaly. For the safety of the public, she could not leave him unsupervised.

At least, that’s what she told herself as the insidious energy seeped into her bloodstream, chipping away at her icy composure. The mindstone on her brow thrummed faintly, valiantly trying to filter the influence, but every fresh pulse from that tonsil-battering tool taxed the diamond's limits.

“Mmmmm, that’s nice. You’re putting in the extra effort to earn that reward. Good girl.” He assured the slathering fox-slut, gently rubbing her pointy ears. “Take it deeper. This is your punishment after all. No pain, no gain.”

“Mmluuuurk!!”

Vibrating like a struck tuning fork, Wildfire howled around his barbaric width, clearly climaxing. Tail flailing, she obeyed, gulping down another throat-stuffing inch.

Silvejia realized, with dawning horror, that she was timing her breaths to the short thrusts of his hips.

Her nipples ached, stiff peaks tenting silk. Moisture streamed down her inner thighs in shameful rivulets. The delicate lace thong clinging to her mound felt like soaked tissue.

She had never been so aroused in her entire life.

The attraction was anathema. Humans were apes with delusions of grandeur—flinging feces in their endless wars, inventing hideous weapons to slaughter one another while ignoring the cosmos yawning above them. Filthy, chest-thumping gorillas unworthy of her royal notice.

Until now.

And this one was looking at her.

She didn’t miss it—the scalding glances Just Brick threw her way even while plundering the fox-bitch’s esophagus. His burning eyes roamed her modest curves, feasting on her svelte frame, drinking down her regal poise as if he might devour her whole.

“Glak… ack… hurg~!”

Silvejia’s lips parted. He was admiring her. Fantasizing about her while half-buried in another woman’s throat. Undressing her with his gaze as the stupid ginger choked and spluttered. It was indecent, obscene, borderline pornographic…

It was the hottest thing she’d ever experienced.

Almost without thinking, she traced a lacquered fingertip over the tops of her breasts. His gaze followed the motion like a predator tracking prey. She let one strap of her dress slide off her shoulder, revealing a fraction more cleavage. His hips bucked harder. Her pussy juiced at the savage hunger burning in his eyes.

“See something you like, Just Brick?” She teased, coyly. The other strap slipped down as well. An arm across her chest kept the white designer dress from dropping in the muck. “Perhaps something more diverting than your… furry plaything?”

Her knees were still weak, her insides still wobbly, but she sensed a shift in her fortunes, a new card to be played—a chink in her wanna-be savior’s armor.

“Yeah. You’re smoking hot, sweetheart.” He was skullfucking Wildfire in earnest now, cramming his gobsmacking girth down the petite vixen’s throat. “Any red-blooded guy would look.”

“Gloorp… urk… gahhh!”

The fox-girl’s face had turned the shade of a tomato, her throat bulging around him, tears streaking down her flushed cheeks. The sight sent a delicious shiver through Silvejia.

She smiled, gathering her courage, and risked a step closer.

“Window shopping is free,” she purred, stripping off her Victoria jacket and tossing the thousand-dollar garment into a puddle, careful to hold her dress in place. “And sometimes, admiration can even be flattering… if it comes from the right kind of man. Tell me, Just Brick. Are you that man?”

His shoulders bunched and thighs flexed as she slowly glided nearer, splitting the seams of his coveralls. Waves of yellow energy buffeted Silvejia, almost cracking her fragile composure. She barely held on, even as she came a little with each new burst.

Wildfire was reduced to a limp, orgasming fuckpuppet in his grasp, her gurgles melting into blissful moans as her tail whipped wildly.

Silvejia stood transfixed. Half-aghast. Half-ecstatic. On edge, awaiting his answer.

“I’m the best kind of man, sweetheart. Are you blind or something?” He grunted, and the heroine would have sworn she heard his balls rumble. “Doesn’t matter either way. I’m about to show you why, and you’ve got a front row seat.”

With a final brutal thrust, Just Brick growled and unleashed a cataclysmic explosion of power.

“YAAAAAAHHH!!” The alien princess screamed as her precious mindstone shattered like a cheap trinket.

A monumental climax knocked Silvejia off her feet. Her defences–and her lacy thong–dissolved under the carnal onslaught. Toppling onto her tight tooshie, she writhed on the filthy ground, squeezing her firm tits and humping the air.

Noxious sludge stained her expensive outfit, but she didn’t care. The galaxy spun in dizzying circles as molten honey replaced her blood. Stars were born, then died in supernova detonations as she spiralled into infinity–a universe of ceaseless pleasure revealed for a brief eternity.

Silvejia didn’t know how long she hung in that glorious space, basking in solar bliss, but a bonfire-like warmth brought her back to earth.

The alley flickered with firelight, and the scent of burning garbage assaulted her nose.

“Yes… Yessss! Breed me… Nyaa~! Breed your naughty beastkin! Punish my dirty pussy like it owes you money and give me pups!”

Annoyed by the noise and stench, Silvejia wearily sought the source of her agitation.

Not ten feet away, Wildfire lay splayed out on the cement, face down and ass up. She blazed with flames, her biker leathers burnt to ashes. The sheer amount of heat she produced was astounding. Far more than she’d exhibited earlier.

And behind her knelt Just Brick, a now-confirmed enhancer, pounding the wanton fox-slut into the pavement. His torn coveralls were singed away, revealing a mountainous physique. Totally unbothered by the white-hot fire coating her nubile flesh, he gripped the base of the moaning degenerate’s fiery tail like a handle, yanking her back into every hammering thrust.

“You’re gonna get ‘em and more! I’ll dump a whole litter in your horny fox-girl womb!”

Bags of trash smoldered around the rutting duo. Oily smoke lingered. Gunner’s **** form looked scalded. An alarm shrieked from the restaurant next door, a metallic counterpoint to the wet, obscene rhythm echoing off brick walls.

Silvejia staggered upright, unable to wrench her gaze from the spectacle unfolding mere feet away.

Would he actually do it? Spill his enhancing seed into some random gangbanger whore in the name of justice?

The thought was surreal. Unthinkable. Morally bankrupt to the point of parody. And yet she couldn’t look away.

A steel door suddenly banged open at the alley’s far end, framing a greasy-faced cook in an even greasier apron. A meat cleaver gleamed in his pudgy fist as he squinted out at the smoking hellscape.

“What da fuck is going on out–”

Chang of Chang’s all-night takeaway didn’t get another syllable out before Silvejia blurred across the short distance and slammed the heavy door in his face.

There was a thunk, the crunch of breaking nose cartilage, and a muted cry from within which she ignored. After warping the door shut in its frame with super-fast palm strikes, New Avalon’s top speedster spun about in time to catch the coup de grâce.

Just Brick’s hard hat sat askew on his head as the hulking hero pinned the fox-slut to the ground, one massive hand clamped on her throat, the other wrapped around her tail like a leash. Sickly yellow radiance poured out of him, flooding into her by way of their joined sexes.

Wildfire’s eyes crossed, her tongue lolling as she burned hotter and hotter, body wracked by pleasure and pain until she was more inferno than flesh.

They both blazed blindingly bright, the beastkin with ever-intensifying flames and the enhancer with his radiant energy. The ginger’s smooth tummy inflated like a beachball below two rapidly expanding tits, her body morphing to accommodate so much cosmically potent seed as she babbled and wept in incoherent ecstasy.

Silvejia gaped in disbelief, watching the bushy-eared hussy’s knockers plumpen like ripening melons, sitting high and full in defiance of the laws of physics–her thickening curves illuminated from within by the shining brilliance sloshing in her distended belly.

When he was done, Wildfire would assuredly be the most powerful–and most pregnant–pyromancer in the city.

Criminal scum raised from obscurity to the superpowered leaderboard by a single carnal act. A Zippo lighter turned into a threat to the National Park Service after one pussy-melting ride on Just Brick’s empowering fuckpole.

Yogi the Great Bear Spirit, Ancestral Protector of Yellowstone, was going to have conniptions.

“Who-who are you, really?” The alien princess asked, awestruck.

“Better question,” he rumbled, eyes glowing as they raked across her taut figure, “who are you? Not as helpless as you first appear, huh? That was a speedster ability, if I ever saw one, but something is hiding your spark from my senses. How is that possible?”

Silvejia took a split-second to consider her options.

She could retreat. Easily evade the handsome lug and his mouthwatering member to regroup and call in the Ladies of Liberty. Together, they could bring this walking disaster down, haul him off to some shadowy government black-site, and lock him away where he’d never trouble the world again.

Or…

And this was a big or…

She could seize this goddess-sent chance. Debase herself (only a little), let him drown her in the same obscene baptism that had transformed that slobbering fox-slut, and claim the same rewards for herself.

A glance at the cum-drunk beastkin, sprawled and twitching in mindless bliss, her flames slowly diminishing, settled matters.

The decision crystallized. Silvejia wanted that power boost more than her next breath. The good she could accomplish—she told herself—outweighed the shame of lowering her royal standards in a filthy alleyway.

Far outweighed it.

Her sodden snatch squelched with anticipation, though she maintained an aloof exterior–if only barely–dabbing a spot of spittle from her chin.

“You may as well know, since my cover is already compromised.” She sniffed, voice regal even as her thighs trembled. With a languid motion, she let the ruined Khaite gown slide down her statuesque frame, pooling at her high-heeled feet. A touch to her bracelet disengaged the holo-emitter. “You have the honor of addressing Silver Streak, human. Founding member of the Ladies of Liberty. Xeno princess. Speedster supreme. Though bowing is customary, I shall forgive your lapse in protocol, given the… extenuating circumstances.”

Later, when she replayed this moment in her head, Silvejia would never decide which had greater effect on the chiseled goliath—the discarded couture or the dropped illusion.

The former returned her blemishless complexion to its natural lavender hue, while her long hair shifted from polished obsidian to glossy plum. The latter unveiled her exquisite feminine physique, devastatingly tall and lean, a masterpiece of whip-thin sleekness, gorgeously bedecked in a soggy lace thong and an ivory demi-bra which emphasized her meager cleavage.

It hardly mattered; the effect on Just Brick was pronounced regardless.

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