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Chapter 13
by otx
What's next?
Homeward Bound
When you get to Mood Ring's cell you see Meter Maid - your Meter Maid - has the one of the League's Big Seven tied up in police tape and is tribbing the shit out of her. The squishy buildup around their conjoined crotches tells you this has been going on for a while. The remaining shreds of Mood Ring's body suit are all a brilliant violet, which hopefully means something.
Meter Maid (yours) looks up when you come in.
"About bloody time. What have - no, don't tell me. Let's get the hell out of here."
"All right. But what about Photon?"
Mood Ring is shaking a trying to cover herself. "I can get her back if I can get my Ring."
"All right then. Just say 'purple mode exto, emergency function now'."
"Where did you learn that? Nobody else knows the ring's command syntax."
"A shadowy man who knows way too much about what's going on told me. Will it work?"
"I don't know; I've never even heard of that command. But here goes: 'Mode EXTO, emergency function, now!'"
Her suit glows, filling the room with shreds of purple light. You suddenly feel an intense longing for everything from the normal world. A part of your brain could swear it hears Judy Garland saying 'There's no place like home... there's no place..."
You (Heather) appear in a rush of falling water. Bunny is there, floating six inches off the ground in a heroic pose. She's nude, except that her hair is strategically flowing over her nipples and she's actually wearing a skin-tone bikini bottom. Her face lights up in surprise and there's a flash of light behind you.
"Sacre! Who are you? Get out of the shot, s'il vous plait."
You whirl and there's a man with a huge camera, obviously a professional photographer.
"Bunny, you must look serious for this shot, not like you've just found a long-lost puppy!"
"But this is my sister!"
"I don't care if she's Maiden America. Come here, young lady; you are not part of this photo shoot."
You (Meter Maid) appear in Ready Room at the precinct, right beside the coffee machine. 9-1-1's eyes snap wide open when he sees you.
"Maid? You look awesome enough to fuck right now!"
"Get a grip, One. I am not doing you in an open Ready Room."
"My predictive sense says no-one's coming through that door for 14 minutes. You are going to get and enjoy a big black cock, girl."
He unzips his pants. After a day of lesbo lunacy you need a cock right now. You walk toward him.
You (Bondage) appear in The Dungeon. Your current project, mob leader Danny Carlotti, is still shackled to the floor by his balls.
"What the hell? Why didn't I go to the other dimension?"
You (Nudge) fall to the floor as Mom falls onto you. Her panties are hobbling her ankles and you can see her blouse on the coat rack. A man wearing an expensive suit from the waist up and nothing from the waist down gets a surprised-but-pleased look on his face and a very pleased look on his erection.
"Mom?"
"Mister Hewing, this is my daughter Maya. Maya, this is Mister Hewing, the senior partner who's going to fuck us both so I can get a pay raise."
END OF ISSUE
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Perils of a Novice Superheroine
A generic superheroing setting drenched with sex and scandal
Acropolis City, the center of super-human and caped crusader activity in this particular world - with its own dizzying highs and lows, high-tech skylines and slums standing in stark, four-color contrast, it provided everything that a costumed megalomaniac or masked vigilante could ask for. In fact, as is usually the case where colorful masked characters are the norm, it has become something of an institution by this point. But although the mere existence of costumed heroes and villains no longer shocks people, these people - who, by their very nature, thrive on attention - keep finding new ways to stand out from the crowd and attract the eye. This last goal tends to get a lot of emphasis in the most simple, sexualized way possible. For reasons that the world's most brilliant scientists have yet to explain, latent super-abilities seem to manifest more often in women than men by a ratio of 3 to 1 or more. This is true even when the superpower isn't "natural"; paranormal artifacts fall into their hands, esoteric martial arts schools never seem to have a male heir, the technological prototypes they test always seem to be the ones that are most easily used or abused for good and evil. Unfortunately, the glory days of the past where citizens were happy to see any old masked do-gooder show up are over - in recent years, Acropolis City has established a ranking system of heroes where those who get high marks from the citizens and resolve incidents are rewarded with corporate sponsorships and (most coveted of all) seats at the prestigious League of Propriety. Those who intimidate the populace, cause excessive collateral damage, or simply don't excite anyone, garnering low rankings, get 'asked' to move to less prestigious cities. Few superheroes want to get stuck battling clans of villainous hillbillies and corrupt small-town sheriffs for the rest of their careers, so they're always eager to please the influential citizens of Acropolis City (judges, eminent scientists, first responders, and of course the all-important reporters). On the other side of the law, a similar dynamic predominates; only the most glamorous and charismatic costumed ne'er-do-wells can make it in this town. And so, the novice superheroines just learning the ways of battling for justice and order, without any team to back them up, always end up patrolling the skeeviest, most undesirable slums of the city and taking on the most thankless rescues. As if that weren't bad enough, most of them feel obliged to dress in ways that get more outlandish and revealing with every passing year while they fight the good fight and/or feed their craving for attention, depending on how you see the 'cape life'. As if that weren't troublesome enough, the superhuman mutations that make so many of these heroes' careers possible also result in greatly increased sexual sensitivity, particularly in females. The adventures and misadventures that these spandex-clad lady crusaders get into are often too hot to print for the kind of comics that their young admirers would read. Messy mistakes will be made, but you don't want to disappoint your readers, do you? So let the League know what kind of superheroine you are, your chosen name, powers, and appearance, and they'll send you out on your first patrols. Good luck.
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Updated on Jun 15, 2025
by micdan282
Created on Nov 30, 2016
by fyreant
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