Light Memories

As Annie strode through the corridors, the rhythmic hum of the base’s overhead lights pulsing faintly, she found herself turning Domino’s words over in her head. Mutant cock. Muties gotta stick together. It was… odd. She knew Domino was from a different piece of Battleworld, one of those worlds where powers weren’t manufactured by a stupidly powerful media company but naturally occurring, genetic.

They called them Mutants, not Supes.

And from what she had heard, people in that world were really racist about it. Not like the corporate, behind-the-scenes Supes vs. humans bullshit she was used to—this was outright, in-your-face bigotry. Whole laws, whole genocidal movements against them. Even some so-called "heroes" from those worlds had been part of it.

She frowned. Was that why Domino had jumped on the cock so fast? Some unspoken mutant solidarity thing?

Then again, it was Domino. The woman was chaotic, irreverent, and opportunistic as hell. She probably said it just to be a shit-stirrer, playing it up for laughs while getting exactly what she wanted.

And what she wanted was dibs on that truly enormous cock.

Starlight huffed out a breath, rolling her shoulders as she turned a corner. If she were being honest with herself, she kinda wanted first dibs too.

She barely made it halfway down the corridor before she saw him.

Just a guy—unpowered, support staff. Sitting alone on a bench near one of the designated relief areas, his posture tight with frustration, his hand working furiously between his legs, his face twisted into a strange grimace, a **** grin of effort and impatience.

She was pretty sure his name was Colin, an analyst under Elastigirl’s division—one of the many behind-the-scenes people who kept this place running, sorting through intelligence reports, tracking villain factions, analyzing the ever-shifting political landscape of the Dominion nations surrounding them. The kind of work that was just as important as throwing punches or blasting lasers from your hands—maybe even more.

Not that some Supes saw it that way.

Annie had overheard offhand comments recently, the little jabs. Some of them barely considered the support staff as part of the base, sneering at the idea of actually helping them out with something as basic as ball relief.

Like they didn’t deserve it.

Like they weren’t trapped in the same system as the rest of them.

But Annie had stopped believing in heaven or hell a long time ago, and all that left her with was her own sense of right and wrong.

And right now, Colin looked miserable.

He was so focused on trying to cum that he barely even noticed her presence.

She stopped, watching him.

He wasn’t enjoying it. Not really. He was just dealing with it, trying to get it over with, trying to wring out whatever tiny load he had so he could move on with his day.

And, well—she had an empty mouth.

She almost smiled—not mocking, just knowing.

He reminded her of Hughie a little. Not in his looks, but in that uncertain, awkward way he sat there, struggling, clearly wishing this was over already.

It wasn’t as if it would take long.

“Need some help?” she asked, stepping forward.

“Starlight!”

His hand froze, his eyes widening, his face flushing with equal parts relief and embarrassment.

The way his voice cracked slightly was almost endearing. The guy perked up the second she spoke, his eyes widening as they roved up and down her barely-there costume.

“Uh—hey,” he said, forcing a sheepish smile. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Didn’t expect to be stopping,” Annie admitted, stepping toward him. “But, you know. Looked like you could use a little help.”

His cock visibly twitched.

“Uh—yeah. I mean. Yeah.” He swallowed, obviously struggling to keep his eyes on her face and not her body.

Annie squat down. Because kindness still mattered.

She knelt down between his legs, the motion slow, controlled, letting the anticipation build for just a second longer before her lips wrapped around his cock.

It was barely in her mouth before—

Twitch. Jerk. Hot, thin spurts hit her tongue.

She froze.

Colin made a strangled sound, his entire body seizing up.

“Oh, fuck—oh, shit, I—” He sagged forward, groaning. “I swear, I—damn it. That was—way too fast.”

Annie swallowed, blinking up at him, then glanced down at his rapidly shrinking cock. It was already minuscule, practically disappearing.

Damn. Poor guy.

Colin looked absolutely mortified. His ears burned red, his jaw tensed, and his hands fidgeted at his sides like he didn’t know whether to apologize or die on the spot.

“I—I swear, normally I can last longer, but—”

Annie almost laughed. Not to be mean, but because she got it. The wires got crossed all the time.

Some guys couldn’t quite separate what this was from what they thought it meant.

Like, yeah, she’d just sucked his cock, but this wasn’t sex. It wasn’t about performance.

It was ball clean-up. Maintenance. A necessary part of taking care of bodily functions.

But she could already tell that in his head, this was a catastrophic failure. He was thinking, Holy shit, Starlight just blew me, and I barely lasted a second.

Which, to be fair—he hadn’t.

The moment her lips touched him, his cock had jerked, and then it was over.

She sighed, adjusting her position. “It’s fine. I’ve got a little time.”

Before he could protest, she wrapped her lips around him again, sucking slow and deep, making a deliberate show of cleaning him up.

He twitched violently, clearly too sensitive, jerking at every flick of her tongue, his hands gripping the bench like he was bracing for impact. She even gave him a few extra sucks, just in case, but…

Yeah. Not a Supe dick.

After a minute, she pulled back, licking her lips, giving him a reassuring smile.

“There. Good as new.”

Colin exhaled, clearly trying not to look too wrecked.

“Uh—thanks,” he muttered. “Really. That was… yeah.”

Annie smirked, rising to her feet.

“Just doing my part.”

Colin’s face was still flushed, his chest rising and falling unevenly, but even as his cock softened in the aftermath, he hesitated.

His fingers twitched against his thighs, and he swallowed like he was working up the nerve to say something.

Then, in a halting, uncertain voice—

“Uh… c-can I see your tits?”

She blinked.

Not offended. Not even surprised.

It was a normal request.

Just… a little funny.

Her outfit already left almost nothing to the imagination.
Two thin golden ribbons draped across her chest, barely concealing the small, pert curves of her breasts, her nipples constantly threatening to peek free with every movement.

But Colin was an unpowered guy. Maybe he didn’t feel like he had the right to just look. Maybe he needed permission.

She exhaled softly, bemused, and pulled the ribbons aside.

Her pink little nipples stiffened slightly in the cool air, bared completely for him now. Colin’s throat bobbed, his eyes wide, clearly drinking in the sight.

A shy, dorky guy getting his first real peek. A bit odd given the amount of flesh on display around the base and the sheer amount of absolute tit-monsters around here.

For a second, it was almost endearing.

Then—

The lights overhead flickered.

“Hey, Starlight! Show us your tits!”

Four Years Ago – The Race of the Century

A crowd.

Flashing lights.

The buzz of excitement, the press of bodies, the grin she **** onto her lips as she signed autographs, posed for selfies, gave her carefully rehearsed lines.

"Thank you for coming."
"It was nice to meet you."
"Awe! Aren’t you cute?
"Joining the Seven has been a real dream come true!"
"Root for my teammate A-Train!"
"Of course, honey. Take this."

And then one of her real fan's, a preteen true Starlighter.

She gasped, "Look at you!

The girl in front of her was beaming, starry-eyed, practically bouncing in excitement. She was wearing Starlight’s old uniform—the one she had loved.

“It’s your old uniform, but I’m saving up for the new one.”

That had made Annie’s stomach twist.

Annie had been wearing the new one—the one Stillwell had **** her into. The one that had made her feel exposed, cheap, humiliated. Back then, it had felt exploitative, demeaning. She had hated the way it clung too tight, the way it had made her feel like a sexdoll on display.

But now?

Compared to the barely-there halter and g-string currently clinging to her body?

That new uniform had been fucking pilgrim-wear.

She had wanted to warn the girl, to tell her not to do it.

Instead, she had smiled, wrapped an arm around her, and posed for the selfie.

She had bent forward slightly, getting in frame with the girl, giving the camera a warm, practiced grin.

And then—

The jeering voices.

“Hey, Starlight! Show us your tits!”

“Come on!”

Laughter.

“Damn, baby, you look fine AF! Lean down a little bit more!”

The sudden shift in atmosphere had hit her like a slap.

She had felt violated.

Exposed.

Embarrassed for the girl standing next to her.

Afterward, she had pulled her aside and told her:

"Forget about the new costume. The old one’s better."

And she had believed that.

At the time.

But now…

Looking back on it?

She should have been a better role model.

She should have shown the girl how to handle rude, pent-up men.

If you keep their dirty, packed balls drained, they never even get to that point.

Though, in fairness, the **** hadn’t helped.

And then a new, disturbing realization crept in.

A stadium full of people.

Thousands of men.

And not one dick out?

Not one woman kneeling between a man's thighs?

Not one girlfriend or wife doing her duty?

Not one daughter serving her father?

Not even her?

Not even Maeve?

Hadn’t they at least gone down on A-Train for the race?

There'd been all sorts of talk about him not being fast enough anymore to beat Shockwave back then.

She remembered her, Maeve, a dozen Vought "cumbunnies" (as Butcher so unpleasantly referred to the employees hired to empty Supe balls) working around the clock to stimulate A-Train's super-speed semen in the run-up to that race.

So how come she couldn’t remember sucking that prick A-Train’s big black cock on the day of?

The thought gnawed at her, dug into her, made her stomach twist in a way she couldn’t quite define.

That wasn’t right.

It wasn’t just wrong—it was unnatural.

It was—

Back to the Present

The lights buzzed.

The memory faded.

Annie was still standing there, bare-chested, Colin still staring.

She **** a small smile, shook the lingering haze from her mind, and let the ribbons fall back into place.

"There. All better?"

Colin exhaled shakily, nodding.

"Yeah. Thanks."

She smirked, gave his shoulder a pat, and turned to walk away.

But the feeling didn’t leave her.

The lights kept flickering.

The memories weren’t lining up.

She was remembering things wrong.

That incident at the Race of the Century—

She had been angry. She had been disgusted.

Hadn’t she?

Hadn’t she wanted to run away, not drop to her knees?

A shiver ran down her spine, and for the first time in days, she felt self-conscious about what she was wearing. The thin g-string cutting high between her ass, the halter ribbons barely covering her nipples—it all felt wrong.

Like a costume she hadn’t agreed to wear.

Hadn’t she been comfortable in this? Hadn’t it been normal?

Hadn’t it been purposeful?

She wasn’t losing it.

She wasn’t.

But something was wrong.

The flickering, the memories shifting under her feet like sand—

She needed to talk to someone.

Not to admit anything. Not yet.

But she needed to ask questions.

Because if she wasn’t going crazy—

Then what the hell was happening to her?