Luthor has set an impossible task, perhaps.

After coming down the the contact high of fucking Lex Luthor’s personal aide in the front seat of her car on a public street, Brandon began to consider whether he had found himself in a bit of trouble. Not with Miss Graves herself; Luthor had given him carte blanche to use the amulet’s power on any woman he wanted, a permission delivered through his aide’s own two lips. She probably wouldn’t be thrilled to find a thick load of sperm seeping from her pussy and staining the driver’s seat, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it without going against her boss. Brandon wasn’t too worried about her kicking in his door and strangling him on his couch. Worst-case scenario, she’d go after him for child support because she alone knew who the father of all these superhero and superhero-adjacent babies was, and even then he trusted Luthor to handle it. A protracted alimony battle might expose his involvement with LexCorp, and nobody wanted that, especially not the chessmaster with everything to lose.

No, Brandon’s trouble was with the mission itself. When it started, it had seemed simple. He supposed it was still “simple” in that it consisted of only three orders:

Use his amulet to knock up every female superhero he could

Humiliate the female members of the Justice League by using other amulets to make them engage in public sexual activity

Keep his involvement secret and do not get caught

He could easily satisfy any two of these orders at a time. He’d stayed hidden and **** more than a dozen heroes and villains. He could covertly sneak an amulet onto a woman while she was on her way to some public event, then sit back and watch the chaos. He could fuck any woman he wanted, and even a superhero would be shamed by becoming the star of a sex show in public. All of these would advance Luthor’s goals and get Brandon closer to his ill-gained retirement.

But satisfying all three at once seemed borderline impossible. Get a heroine naked in public and have sex with her without anybody knowing who he was? The more public it was, the harder it was to keep secret. That’s what those words meant. Only women were subject to his amulet’s effects. If a single man witnessed him groping Wonder Woman, he was exposed. If his face was caught on camera a single time, he was exposed. If he approached a woman before the amulet’s power had taken hold of her inhibitions, he was exposed. The risk was too great. It couldn’t be done. He’d have to somehow fall into a situation where only women were present, with no cameras, while the heroines were out and about, and there was no way to engineer such an event without somehow magically knowing where they were going to be beforehand.

…though, if he did know where they going to be, he could pick his spots for minimum risk and maximum impact. And he knew the Justice League contained members who performed non-hero activities, like Superman’s public speeches or the Flash’s short-lived product-endorsement phase. Logically those members would inform the League about their obligations in advance so they knew other heroes could handle problems and respond to villain emergencies, because not everybody could teleport around the world at a moment’s notice. Thus it stood to reason that the League, somewhere, had a schedule with information about its members’ expected whereabouts.

Any such schedule would be far out of his reach. What, like Batwoman would leave her Bat-Phone on the table during lunch so he could check her itinerary? Batwoman didn’t eat. She was sustained by vengeance. And, also, her phone was almost certainly password-protected, if not biometric. He did steal Batgirl’s keycard (and get a few good gropes of sidekick butt in the process) and check one of the computer terminals he could find, but the calendar apparently wasn’t on the network. It, like several other systems, had to be accessed from a specific room with fingerprint and retinal scanners, a ludicrous amount of security for what amounted to a to-do list. It was almost like the Justice League had a recent series of events that made them want to safeguard their privacy more than normal. Weird.

Brandon was not about to sit by the door all day waiting for somebody to enter. It would be boring, true, but more so it kept him away from his cover job for longer than he could afford and there was no guarantee it would actually work. Luthor likely would not be willing to give him an extra few weeks to occasionally pass by the room and hope he caught somebody passing through. No, he had to create his own opportunity. He turned it over and over in his head for two days, trying and failing, unable to think of a way to **** a heroine into the room to check or update the schedule, but the remote—

It hit him lying in bed one night. He didn’t care why a woman entered the room, only that she did. As long as he could get in with her, her intentions didn’t matter. With that, he had a plan built in a matter of minutes.