Heading to the showers.

The Watchtower showers (and, he mused, it was a damn shame they didn’t call them the Watchshowers) kept the same motif as the rest of the station: simple, clean, almost boring except for the minor concession that it was a shower in space for superheroes. It reminded him of a locker room, with a small area with benches, door, mirrors, and of course lockers in front of a separate area with shower cubicles. In fact, it seemed awfully similar to the LexCorp showers he cleaned on occasion. Maybe they had the same designer, or maybe there just wasn’t much to explore in washroom architecture. Still, he was glad to see something straightforward. The walls dividing the shower stalls didn’t go all the way to the ground so he could see who was where just by stooping, the curtains protecting the girls’ modesty were easy to pull to the side, and each stall was big enough for the tallest, widest heroine, which conveniently made them plenty large enough for a heroine and any man who had his way with her.

The girls didn’t have many clothes to remove, and they didn’t notice that their lockers held only four boots and one staff between them. They “undressed” in private and draped towels over their shoulders; Brandon wondered if they would have wrapped the the towels around their bodies were it not for the amulet’s influence, or if superheroes regularly paraded in front of each other wearing nothing but smiles. Maybe he should hide some cameras? They would never suspect they were being filmed in the one of the planet’s most secure rooms. No, best not to risk it. He could get all the fap material he needed just by doing his job.

When the trio entered the room, Brandon paused at the sound of running water. For just a moment, he forgot about the amulet’s effects, and he took a step back to hide until it hid him from their senses. But a tall, busty, and very leggy blonde poked her head out of her stall, looked at the heroines next to him, and asked “Good spar, girls?”

“Eh, she got a couple of hits in,” Supergirl sassed, and Stargirl swatted her on the arm. “Ow.”

“You didn’t go on any missions, did you?”

“Ugh, this again.” A new voice moaned from a different occupied stall. “They’re adults. They can handle themselves.”

“I know they can. I’m just being careful.”

“Right. So careful, none of our younger women can fight crime without a chaperone. Seems a little backward, doesn’t it?”

“It’s just temporary, to prevent any other footage from…oh, sorry.”

Supergirl shook her beet-red face and ducked into a stall. “N-no, it’s nothing.”

“We know it’s not nothing. Trust us. Huntress and I have only had a taste of it, and I know how bad that feels. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

The voice barked again. “Tell me about it! I’ve been chasing uploaders for a week now. You know how many crime syndicates are selling fake ‘spy vids’ now?”

“Huntress!”

“You can use my name, Canary. And it’s better to know about a problem than not.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Brandon noticed Supergirl and Stargirl entering the same shower stall, with Supergirl’s hand already kneading her ally’s ass. He chuckled to himself, wondering how many lesbian trysts there were within the Justice League. If it wasn’t for the amulet, he’d have…oh, the amulet! That was it! The amulet **** women around it to strip and masturbate. Why wouldn’t it also coerce them into helping each other out? Stargirl and Supergirl weren’t lovers, they were just getting frisky because the amulet made them do it without their knowledge. If he hung out long enough on the Watchtower, he could make some very, very interesting flings happen.

But while they soaped each other up, he turned his attention to the older heroines in the room: Huntress and Black Canary. He was glad Huntress had said something, because he doubted he would have recognized Black Canary without her outfit. He’d seen her without her leather jacket only once or twice, in footage from supervillain battles, and even then she was almost unrecognizable. Only the fishnet stockings differentiated her from any other well-developed blonde woman. While she bickered with Huntress about whether or not to use code names in private, he yanked the shower curtain out of her grip and ogled her naked body. Locks of wet hair stuck to her shoulders and her full, perky rack, and a neatly-trimmed patch of blonde on her child-bearing hips pointed the way to his goal rather than obscuring it. He’d only been in the room for a moment, and already she rubbed her thighs together and pinched her nipple, working her way to the same state he had already inflicted on the others.

Revealing Huntress’s body proved slightly less interesting, but only by comparison. Huntress was a lower-key hero and her wheelhouse was handling organized crime, which probably meant more stealthy investigations and fewer laser battles in the street. He hadn’t jacked off to her as much as to other heroes, though he did appreciate her fashion sense and he wouldn’t mind if more women fought crime in leotards with stomach cutouts. He couldn’t wait to watch her belly grow through the hole in her outfit. But outside of costume, she was basically any other attractive woman. Nice chest but not massive, a cute ass but not a bubble butt, and a face a little too angular for his taste now that he saw it without a mask. Like her partner, her best feature was undoubtedly her legs, long and toned and smooth, begging to be pushed back to her shoulders. He had to catch her some time when she had her mask on. Then she would really feel like a superhero.

On second thought, did Huntress even have powers? He guessed it didn’t matter. Luthor had told him to knock up the whole female side of the Justice League, not just the ones with super strength, even if his “women with powers” to “regular humans with lots of training” ratio was a little low to start off.