Gerry Manheim AKA The Patriarch. A misogynist supervillain in a world of female-only superheroes (DC and Marvel mixed universe)

I grunt as I roll out of bed and pull myself up into a sitting position. I sneer a little as I look around at my shitty little hideout. It was basically an industrial looking studio apartment with a few supervillain odds and ends here and there. My king sized bed, my supercomputer set up that was about five years out of date, a costume in a glass display case, and a decent sized kitchenette with top of the line appliances.

If it actually was a studio apartment in Metropolis, it would’ve been nice. The thing is, it isn’t though. It’s my freaking lair. My freaking supervillain lair. I hear the top tier supervillains like Lex Luthor and Norman Osbourne have multiple elaborate complexes to sit and scheme all of their little plans. And here I sit in what amounted to a big empty room. Hidden in a sewer. A fucking… SEWER.

I grumble to myself a little more before climbing out of bed and padding over to my supercomputer. I power it on and start circulating through the news feeds. It was the same old rig marole as usual, supervillains foiled here and there, the world’s superheroine population getting interviewed for saving cats from trees, more superheroines campaigning for feminist causes, the same old shit.

I sigh and slump back in my seat.

What was the fucking point?

Those women had all the power. Anyone who dared to make a living via crime ended up getting stomped out as quickly as they popped up these days. It was all so fucking oppressive and unfair. Seemingly only women developed these super powers, while us men are supposed to be content with living an entirety mundane fucking existence.

It was so fucking unfair.

But hey, what could you do? Not like the answer to my prayers was going to drop out of the sky anytime soon.

I pull out my phone to kill some time before I get started on my late breakfast. The moment I unlock it though, an app catches my attention.

“The Submission Accelerator?” I read aloud.

I didn’t remember installing it, and I sure as hell haven’t gotten drunk enough recently to download something without remembering it. In other words, this app has popped up on my phone without rhyme or reason. In the circles that I roll in, that might as well have been a big flashing neon button that said, “Press me and watch as something horrific happens to you because a rival supervillain has decided to eliminate the competition!”

I press and hold on the offending app and move it towards the Uninstall icon. Better to just get rid of it. As I’m about to do so though, I pause. There was something about this app that was needling at me more than it should. I got this sense that if I didn’t take advantage of it now, that I never would. That activating this app and turning it on was my destiny. Which was a strange thought, because I didn’t believe in crap like fate.

Also, didn’t The Submission Accelerator app icon sort of look like my own supervillain logo?

My finger lingers over the Uninstall button.

Should I?

*Author's Note- Okay, finally committed to adding my own little thread to probably my favorite story on the entire site. My story is gonna be taking a lot of cues from drek's Jack Dingle story, mostly because I think the rules he establishes in it are a fantastic set of tools for a writer to mess around with and include some audience participation. Also, I'm a big fan of that story. (Hi drek, you're the one approving this chapter, just wanted to say I think you're bloody wonderful and to please come back to Patreon so I can continue throwing money at you whether you like it or not.) Anyway, this note has gone on long enough, hope all of you reading enjoy this tale of powerful super women getting turned into cum receptacles. -ButchHardback*