Galatea Watches the News With Her Fellow Gym Junkies

The Watchtower's gym was a true marvel of fitness, putting any earthbound facility to shame in its size and scope. Within its halls was contained a dizzying array of equipment from around the universe - Martian psionic treadmills, Thanagarian gravity manacles, Tamaranean solar infusers and more were available to the World's Finest women and femmes, keeping them in tip-top shape as they battled injustice and invaders on Earth and in the solar system at large. That was one of the main reasons that Power Girl - and now, to a lesser degree, Galatea - liked it so much; there was always something to challenge her, to help her push even her limits. The second reason that Power Girl - and now, to a much greater degree, Galatea - liked it so much was the smell. Years of blood-pumping, muscle-stretching, strenuous exertion by women and femmes looking to work up a sweat in the name of self-improvement had infused everything in the room - from the leather, to the rubber, to the metal, to the air itself - with a faint-yet-heady bouquet of sweet perspiration and musky pussy-juices.

Galatea's cock, so recently placated by her dicking-down of Miss Martian, began to twitch back into life at the subtle scents of the gym - and, more importantly, the sight of three fertile femmes. Dinah Lance, the Black Canary, was working on her cardio on one of the mundane treadmills, her boobs and butt jiggling with every footstep as she jogged away the miles. Zatanna was fighting one of the AI-optimised leg press machines, thigh and calf muscles tensing deliciously to the Kryptonian's superdetailed gaze. Donna Troy was curling a pair of dumbbells that looked to be made of an exotic alloy, dressed in a tight black sports bra and shorts instead of her usual Troia costume.

In an uncharacteristic display of self-restraint, Galatea decided to get her body's daily routine in and let her physical prowess speak for itself. Retrieving her first item, a set of salvaged Kryptonian compression rings, she let her cock slip free through the hole in her costume that it had torn for her to fuck Miss Martian and slipped the five bands of metal over its length. She cooed as they tightened around her hardening length, forcing even her heart to really work to pump the blood into her swelling erection. She turned to make sure that the three women in the room would have an uninterrupted view of her 'workout', tensed herself and-

-dropped to her knees as powerful, honeyed beats dripped onto her brain. Around her, she was dimly aware of crashes and bangs as the other three femmes in the room shredded and mangled their gym equipment in bursts of unnatural strength and speed, but her eyes and ears were focused on the screen mounted on the wall across from her - indeed, on all of the screens in the gym, from the smallest smartwatch to the largest television - as it received an emergency override from the Watchtower's control centre.

The ASS that appeared on-screen was beyond compare. Out-massing Fire's bountiful Brazilian bubble butt, out-muscling Galatea's own concrete-crushing Kryptonian caboose, so highly trained that it bounced and jiggled like jelly despite its overwhelming strength, it smothered Galatea's smug sense of superiority like it was a pretty girl's face. Galatea tried to look away, to **** her alter-ego nature to escape the trap that had ensnared her body's eyes, but it was hopeless. Power Girl's back arched, thrusting her chest upwards and her crotch forwards as her arms pulled back and down, like some unseen **** was binding her wrists and ankles together and to each other. Hog-tied and kneeling, her head - and Galatea's vision with it - was **** back by a phantom hand that coiled in her hair and gave it an insistent, dominant tug.

**** to look at the enormous screen that spanned the gym's ceiling, Galatea moaned in horny despair as Power Girl's body **** her Nth metal buttplug free with a wet slurrr-pop and a heavy thump. In its place, there was an insistent tapping on her clenched anus, like a slick, rampant femme cock was taunting her with her helplessness. Galatea's heart filled with hopeless, needy rage as she stared up at the phattest ASS ever to exist, on a white girl or otherwise. Phantom fingertips caressed her cock, perfectly manicured nails shredding the indestructible metal, and Galatea felt her body's ability to resist crumble to nothing as a surge of blood **** her cock to full mast in an instant. stroke-stroke-stroke The phantom fingers closed into a silky, oiled handjob that sent needles of pleasure up her spine. schlick-schlick-schlick The phantom cockhead prodded more forcefully, now spreading Power Girl's asshole ever so slightly around its head, still slick from its latest conquest. donka-donka-donka Her body's heart thumped in time with the heavy, throbbing beat blasting from the speakers and the relentless bounce of the glorious ASS that filled her vision.

thump The ASS jerked back into the camera, leaping out of the screen. thump And again, just a little further. thump thump thump Again and again, every few bounces, the ASS would bump the camera, jumping out of the screen and getting that much closer to Power Girl and Galatea's upturned face. Galatea's collar was a prison - a pair of soft yet unyielding hands wrapped around her throat. Its once glorious red kryptonite radiation was now pulsing purple and gold with the flashing lights; sapping her strength, leaving her to stew in her impotent rage and arousal. Her tongue snaked from her dopily grinning mouth, flopping down over her chin like its strength was entirely spent.

With one last thump, the camera panned back enough for the body attached to the ASS to be visible and Galatea felt the radiant heat of it briefly bathe her face. Her peripheral vision, that small sliver not taken up by the twerking of the ASS, took in a dark office. The owner - if indeed such a term could be applied to such a rump - of the ASS was bent over a shiny, ebony desk, twerking to a backdrop of thumping club beats and strobing lights from the dancefloor that the office seemed to overlook. Galatea felt her body sigh with an almost religious ecstasy as she caught a glimpse of the woman's perfectly sexy face, plump and glossy lips suckling at a deep purple buttplug flecked with gold. With a wicked grin, the Mistress of the ASS rolled the tip of the plug around the rim of her delicate asshole, drawing a sympathetic shudder from Galatea as she felt the sensation overlayed on the relentless prodding of the phantom cock.

"Hello, Gotham City..."

Whorish, **** moans burst from the throats of three occupants of the gym, desperately wishing that they were residents of Gotham so that their Mistress was speaking directly too them, rather than just letting them bask in the sound of her mesmerising contralto purr. Cocks and clits throbbed as they humped the air, their invisible bonds loosening just enough for them to try in vain to fuck that perfect ASS.

"I'm your new goddess, Power Bottom."

Even Galatea, insulated as she was from the chains of lust that bound Power Girl's body and dormant mind, suffered an outpouring of pleasure at the knowledge bestowed upon her. The Kryptonian's ecstatic cry reverberated with the **** of two souls, setting off a round of near-orgasms from all four femmes that would have soaked their surroundings in pearly spunk, imagining they were the ASS on-screen, or the long, thicc legs that supported it wrapped in purple leather from thigh to ankle and supported in turn on the shining chrome platform heels of their Mistress's favourite thigh boots.

"Come worship your goddess at my exclusive fitness center and dance club, The Squat Rack."

Joy surged through Power Girl's body at the realisation that her goddess owned her favourite hang-out, carrying Galatea along for the ride. The edging she was receiving was insane, the pleasure matching the ultimate high of flooding a woman or femme's eager womb with her seed. She was going to be spending much more of her free time at The Squat Rack from now on, maybe even all of her free time, at her goddess's command.

"And now I'm speaking to Batgirl pers...”

ZZZZZZZZ

White noise ripped through Galatea's mind, blanketing everything. When she came to, it was to the sight of Power Bottom squatting in front of the desk with her back to the camera, still looking over her shoulder and twerking her ASS to the relentless beat.

"And now I'm speaking to you, Galatea."

Galatea had just enough time to realise that her body was lying on its back with legs spread wide into perfect splits and arms stretched above its head - and that Power Bottom was in the room, right over her dick - before her Mistress dropped and swallowed up the entirety of the Kryptonian's cock with her divine asshole.

"Damn, girl! Your cock is fine!" Power Bottom moaned as she leaned back, platform heels planted firmly on the floor and her hands planted firmly on Power Girl's tits as she bounced her ASS on the blonde's cock. Galatea gasped as the edging grew every more intense, doubling every second, and grabbed Power Bottom's wrists in a parody of control. Power Bottom giggled and squeezed as hard as she could. "Oh, my," she crooned mockingly, "what a beast. You're wasted in this body, babe."

Power Bottom's ASS held total control over Galatea's body. When it rose up, it dragged her hips with it - though even her superspeed was too slow to prevent Power Bottom's squeezing, sucking asshole from sliding up her shaft until only the head remained trapped. As it went, the powerful muscles of her Mistress's ASS flexed, making it clap around Galatea's cock and forcing the helpless femme's own ass to clap in time. As it came back down, it met Galatea's rising hips as it swallowed her shaft and then smashed them into the floor of the gym, hammering a perfect imprint of the blonde's butt into the mirrored floor. The double cla-clap of their asses was invading Galatea's mind.

Cla-CLAP!

She needed to break into the Fortress of Solitude.

Cla-CLAP!

She needed to clone Power Girl.

Cla-CLAP!

She needed to become Power Girl's villainous twin sister.

Cla-CLAP!

She needed to knock Power Girl up.

Cla-CLAP!

She needed to get knocked up by Power Girl.

Cla-CLAP!

She needed to become The Squat Rack's chief enforcer.

Cla-CLAP!

She was Power Bottom's tool.

Cla-CLAP!

She needed to be a Rave ****.

Cla-CLAP!

Her Big Alien Cock would discipline the other Rave Slaves.

Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP!

Power Bottom's ASS was no longer there. Instead, Galatea was twerking in a line alongside Zatanna, Troia and Black Canary for their Mistress's pleasure. They swung their hips, dropped into splits and reached out to either side to squeeze each other's tits, but they never stopped twerking. Power Girl's superspeed let them feel like she was groping and squeezing all of their tits at once, but they never stopped twerking. Black Canary's cry thrummed against their bodies, but they never stopped twerking. Troia glowed with divine energies, the Goddesses of Olympus pouring their power into her and her fellow Rave Slaves-to-be, but they never stopped twerking. Zatanna chanted spell after spell, warping reality around them until the Watchtower's gym was resonating with The Squat Rack and they could look over their shoulders not at the ceiling screen, but at Power Bottom's slutty, gorgeous, dominating face peering down from her office as she watched them, but they never stopped twerking.

Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP!

Only Power Bottom could order them to stop twerking. Only Power Bottom could let them cum. Only her ASS. ASS controlled them. ASS was all they thought of. ASS was all they were. None of them saw the goings-on in Gotham that night - Supergirl's challenge to Superwoman, Vicky Vale's expanding booty, Batgirl's helpless cock being mastered by Power Bottom's ASS. How could they, when they were twerking at The Squat Rack as Power Bottom's loyal Rave Slaves, just like they'd always dreamed of?

Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP! Cla-CLAP!

CLAP!

Galatea looked around the Watchtower's gym. The whole room - the floor, the walls, the ceiling, the equipment, the three **** femmes there with her - was coated in an oozing, lubricating layer of gold-flecked purple jizz that squeezed and massaged it into perverse new shapes. Turning on her heel, and licking her lips as the move made the inside of her ass rub against her buttplug, Galatea ignored the dildos sprouting from seats and other wicked changes as she marched Power Girl's body towards the nearest hangar.

She needed to make a trip to the Arctic. She needed to become Power Girl's villainous twin sister. Only then could she cum...