Play time with Elizabeth (PR DISASTER + Gaslighting & Tolerance lock)

GERRY

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. It was true, that when I’d started my plan, I’d had no intentions of helping any of these women. I had just wanted to use them, in more than one way. But no one wanted to fuck sad sex slaves.

Well, maybe dacryphiliacs, but for the moment that didn’t appeal to me.

I just hadn’t realized how broken all these women were until I was **** to talk to them, to become involved in their lives and their listen to their stupid fucking problems. I had expected they were all snobs and egomaniacs, that they all thought they were better than me and all the people I was working to protect and liberate.

But Peggy wasn’t like that, and I didn’t want to turn her into that either.

“Peggy?”

She looked up from her hands, eagerly awaiting her next command. She’d been taking orders her whole life, the only difference here was that she at least got some pleasure from doing what I told her to.

“What are you most scared of?” I asked, staring out the windshield and toying with the options in my mind.

She looked down. “I used to be scared that I’d failed, that Hydra had taken over everything while I was gone and that all the work I did was for nothing. But now…now I’m just worried…I’m not enough anymore, sir.”

I turned to look at her.

“It…I know it sounds silly, sir, but…but things were different, back when I was growing up.” She said.

“It doesn’t sound silly.” I promised her. “Just please, tell me the truth. I promise I won’t laugh, or dismiss you. I want to help.” For the first time, I was maybe telling the truth.

I still wanted to fuck a bunch of bitches, but I’d found something more important along the way.

“People used to believe in their country, sir…they used to trust their government…they used to care about making the world a better place.” She closed her eyes. “And I…I know I’ve missed a lot, but it feels everything I worked for…like everything I believed in…has just become a joke.”

“Is that why you moved to America?” I asked, having always wondered about this detail. S.H.I.E.L.D. was an international organization, but if we were honest, it was just another puppet of the US and all attempts to set up similar organizations, even in nations considered allies of the United States, had been sabotaged.

She nodded slowly. “Everything is mechanical or virtual…it feels sometimes, like the world is dying and I am the only one who thinks it’s a bad thing…and…it’s not that I hate anyone, doctor! I’m glad that things have changed for so many, I really am…but…but nothing is real anymore! Marriage doesn’t mean anything, family doesn’t mean anything…no one goes to church, people would prefer to talk to robots then to other humans. No one these days knows who they are or what they stand for…except me. And that makes me old fashioned, doctor. I’m just another artifact, they keep me around because they feel obligated to, not because they remember…”

She closed her eyes. “Sometimes I wish they’d never found me.”

“Margret…” I reached over, and gently took her hand. I’d never done this shit before and my mouth was dry. But I figured I had to try.

“…if you want to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. I am going to help you. If you want to retire from being a superhero altogether, I’ll make it happen. But believing in things isn’t old fashioned. It’s what makes you such more interesting than all the people out there, who spend their lives waiting for someone to save them.”

She looked at my hand on hers and then looked away. “I can’t leave though…don’t make me retire, please…I’d be letting everyone down…”

I raised an eyebrow. With the “Wartime Worker” trait I’d thought she’d be jonesing to throw in the towel by now. “What do you mean? Who would you be letting down.”

“But…I keep thinking…about Steve, my fiancée…and about my friends in the army. And all the girls who never survived the trials.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I have to keep going. If I give up, I’m letting them all down…then I made it all the way here, for nothing.”

I retracted my hand from hers. “No, no, stop. What was that you said about trials? What did you mean?”

She looked shocked and I realized that she probably thought I knew every one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s deep dark secrets, on account of how high up in the hierarchy she believed I was.

“When-when they developed the serum which…changed me…” She paused and drew her hands across her muscular arms, and I wondered how often she wished she could go back to being slim and feminine, instead of just another weapon in a world full of them. “…it only worked on girls, that’s the reason why Bobbi and Natasha…well, it’s the reason they ended up with serums like mine. But…the serum doesn’t work right for everyone…the official story about the serum is that the man who made them was assassinated and all his notes destroyed. But the truth is that they injected two dozen women with the serum. I’m just the only one who ever survived that particular formula.”

“Wait, what? What…happened?”

She stared at her lap, picking one fingernail with another. “Some of them went mad, some of them took their own lives…some of their bodies rejected the formula…I’m the only one who lived long enough to actually see combat.”

I retracted my hand, instead leaning closer to stare at her ashamed face, for some sign of deception. But she couldn’t have lied to me at this stage, even if she wanted to.

I am a fucked up dude. I’m sure that is obvious by this point. But the information which she’d just confided in me, made me want to march back inside S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ and punch Maria in the face. It wasn’t her fault of course, she hadn’t been the one to make Peggy into Captain Britain. But there was no way she didn’t know what S.H.I.E.L.D. had been doing back then.

And she still wanted to go back, she wanted to return to the heyday of human rights violations, where she’d been a guinea pig for the prerequisite to Project fucking Paperclip, because of how depressingly disappointing the 21st Century was.

Suddenly, everything slotted into place. I realized why the Tolerance Lock was having such a profound effect on her emotional state. I had wanted it to turn her into a female misogynist, an elitist white goddess who’d help me punish all the other superheroines for being whiny feminist SJWs. But each time, the longer she’d been in that state, the more irrational she’d become, to the point that she’d sounded almost as bad as the Nazis she’d fought.

While I was fully aware that her time had been so much more profoundly racist than our own that the distinction was not as broad as most folks liked to think it was, I also knew that Captain Carter was the exception which proved the rule, a female spy who’d fought alongside soldiers of all different nationalities and races. But the Tolerance lock wasn’t just making her prejudiced and regressive. It was making her afraid. Afraid of all technology along with social convention. Each time I flipped the switch, she was suddenly in an alien world filled with incomprehensible machinery and completely deteriorated social conventions.

But that wasn’t all. Peggy was clearly suffering from PTSD, along with a big fucking helping of survivor’s guilt. Every time that her perception of reality worsened, she clung violently to the beliefs **** into her mind by the app, and descended into virulent xenophobia as a coping mechanism.

I suspected that trauma, like anxiety and depression, could not be cured, but merely treated. Still, if I wanted her to be my little happy housewife, or my conservative conspirator, I was going to need address her mental distress.

“Miss Carter…I want you to look at me.”

She did as commanded, and the broken look in her face made me want to kiss her and promise her that everything was going to be better. But that’s not what she needed to hear. That’s not what would fix any of this.

I had mind control powers, and you bet you’re fucking britches I was going to use them. I mean, screw that whole “Great power, great responsibility” bullshit, but it would have just been lazy for me not to use my abilities to help with Peggy’s problems.

“You are suffering from survivor’s guilt. Your brain is rationalizing the pointless **** and cruelty you have endured, by claiming that you don’t deserve to be alive. You are punishing yourself for not having died alongside your comrades in battle. But doing this won’t bring them back, nor it will it make the universe fair or just. The only thing you can do is accept your grief and allow yourself to enjoy the life you’ve been gifted with. That is what your fiancée and your friends would have wanted.”

She stared at me for a long time, as the “But maybe you’re right…” worked it’s magic. It must have been awful, having all those walls of emotional repression crumble in instant. But it was also relieving, I’m sure, as overwhelmed, this mountain of a woman leaned into me and began sobbing for all she had lost and all that had been stolen from her.

I slowly rubbed her back, as she shuddered against me. I tried not to think about the fact that we were going to be late for our appointment with Elizabeth. That was fine. This was more important.

KARA

She was awoken by a sharp pain in the stomach followed by the sensation of salty water and bile rising up through her throat. Then she was coughing and hacking up water, and her lungs stinging, not from the acidity of the salt which had little effect on her organs, but from the taxing constriction and release brought on by drowning, combined with the bruising of her chest.

When she had finished retching out half the bay, she noticed the person who had rescued her from the briny deep and who had no doubt pounded on her chest until she began to resuscitate.

“Take. It. Back.” Karen said, as she grabbed Kara’s hair and lurched her up onto her feet.

“Fuck you…” Kara said, legs twitching weakly, snot dribbling down her nose. She could see, in her peripherals, the half a dozen sailors and dock workers who’d stopped what they’d doing to photograph the entire ordeal.

She didn’t blame them for trying to get between two angry Kryptonians. But she did hate the fact that they thought it was more important to get a video of the moment, then call the fucking police.

“Take it back!” Karen snarled, shaking Kara’s limp body like a little girl with a doll

“No…you can beat me up all day, Care. It won’t make you any less of an irredeemable bitch.”

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” Karen screamed and tossed Kara across the board walk, causing her to roll and land at the feet of some seventy-year-old man who’d taken his grandson to go fishing. Kara looked up at them briefly, before Karen was on-top of her again, grabbing her by the hair and smashing her face through the floorboards of the boardwalk, sending splinters of wood into Kara’s nose.

“I’M NOT THE ONE WHO’S FAULT IT IS HE’S DEAD!!” Karen said, raising Kara’s still largely unblemished face to eye-level and lifting a hand to continue her ****.

“Power Girl?”

Karen’s anger disappeared, replaced by something approximating pants wetting terror. She turned slowly, and stared at the six-foot nine demigoddess who was currently hovering a few feet off the ground. Her familiar silver bracelets and golden lasso were in their proper place, but her costume, once designed to make her more attractive and friendly to man’s world, had been replaced by a full set of divinely enchanted armor, collected straight from the bodies of the pantheon she had “liberated” her kingdom from.

Atop her head sat Hera’s crown, although its magnificence was hidden mostly by Hades’ helmet, which swirled with the dark power of a god of ****. At her hip swung Ares’ xiphos, while the lance and shield of Athena sat atop her back. And across the breastplate which she wore, and which had been forged by Hephastus himself, she had draped the Aegis of Zeus, a golden goat skin which could have survived orbital bombardment.

“Put her down, gently.” Diana of Themyscira ordered, as she levitated closer, the wings in the sandals of Hermes flapping gently. There was the screech of metal and Diana’s arm was extended and her sword was at Karen’s throat, just close enough to pierce her otherwise impenetrable skin and draw the slightest bit of blood. “Or I will be **** to remove your head from your body.”

Karen cringed and slowly and almost lovingly, placed the dazed, but still smiling Kara onto the floor of the boardwalk. “Di…this…this is uh…”

“This is a disgrace is what it is.” Diana said, her cold blue eyes narrowed to sharp points. “How do expect the people of this world to trust you to rule over them, when you turn upon your own allies?”

Karen’s eyes widened and Kara, laying at her feet and soothing her aching larynx, actually felt sorry for her. After **** of Clark and Bruce and the disappearance of Wally, Diana had instated a very easy to remember policy. You were either with the JLA, or you were against them. And anyone caught using superpowers in a way she deemed as “immoral” would be subject to immediate and public execution by the Princess of the Amazons herself.

It had been a relief at first, when the world had finally been rid of madmen like the Joker or terrorists like Magneto. But Diana didn’t just kill those who posed a present and real threat to the whole world. She had removed anyone who might someday pose a threat. Her goals were worldwide peace, courtesy of the Amazonians. And as far as she was concerned, everyone between her and that goal were acceptable losses.

What made the entire blood-soaked saga even more absurd was the fact that, as the ambassador for another nation, diplomatic immunity had absolved her of most of the crimes she’d committed in the name of creating peace. Not that anyone would dare try to prosecute her, after they’d seen what she did to the Hulk.

Including superheroines who ended up on the wrong side of the track.

“I’m sorry!” Karen squeaked, jostling as Wonder Woman yanked her arms behind her back and wrapped them up with her lasso. “I-I made a mistake, Diana…I just got angry…no one got hurt…I swear, I didn’t hurt anyone. Please!”

Diana stuffed the poor girl’s mouth with the red fabric of her own cape and then flipped her unceremoniously over her shoulder, letting the trussed up busty blonde’s ass wiggle over her right arm spaulder. “War is the man’s way, Power Girl. For you to turn against a sister in arms, over this pathetic infatuation for a man…it soils not just your honor but that of your fellow members of the League.”

She patted the helpless Kryptonian on the butt condescendingly. “Don’t worry, though…you will soon have a chance to redeem yourself. Of that, I will make certain.”

She turned then to the dozen or so bystanders, who had slowly left hiding once the fighting had stopped. “Rest assured, fair citizens of Superman’s homeland, this one will know the error of her ways by week’s end. The Justice League does not suffer a neglect of discipline in it’s ranks.”

Karen writhed in humiliation and horror, and Kara’s ass began to ache, just at the thought of Diana’s “discipline.” The Amazonians had decided thousands of years ago for some reason, that corporal punishment and public humiliation were the best means of maintaining social order, for all crimes short of ****. And Diana had imposed that doctrine the second she’d become leader of the Justice League, which was simultaneously the same time the team became solely comprised of attractive, fit young women, who all looked up to her.

Then she turned to Kara, as if she were a second thought and extended a hand. “Super Girl, return with me to the Watchtower, so that your wounds might be dressed and the sanity of your assaulter better determined.”

As if her impenetrable determination and unrestrained ferocity weren’t bad enough, Diana had the unnerving habit of referring to all super-heroines only by their aliases, as opposed to their actual names, even when those names were public knowledge. She’d once explained this to Kara as just “being honest.” In her mind, they were their monikers. She was Wonder Woman as much as she was Diana and when anyone referred to her any other way, she’d become extremely intimidating.

Kara wanted to protest, but when a cough interrupted her response, she found herself being picked up and held under Diana’s free arm, like she was a piece of luggage. She glanced briefly at the still wriggling Karen, who’s face was now red with tears and smeared with snot.

Had the punishments gotten worse since Kara had convinced Diana to let her work solo? Or had Karen already wracked up so many of them that Diana had been “****” to up the ante? She wondered briefly, sadistically, if as means of reciprocity, Diana might allow her to witness Karen’s degradations. But the thought cooled down before it really became hot.

It wouldn’t be the same. Not without him. She had to get Karen under his power. Only he deserved to punish that delicious ass and those ginormous udders. She almost drooled at the mental image as she imagined what Gerry would be able to reduce the tit-brained bitch to, with the proper assistance.

But she was snapped out of this thought by the hum of electricity and then the flash of energy, as she, Karen and Diana were no teleported away from Earth.

PEGGY

“Now, I believe that whatever organization has brainwashed Kate Kane, has also infested the rest of the Justice League, the Avengers and even S.H.I.E.L.D. itself. At the moment, I need your help to test out your team-mates. But once we’ve rooted out the mole in S.H.I.E.L.D., I promise, you will be able to retire.”

She nodded, slowly, remembering that Maria had mentioned that she was looking into the possibility of a mole on that awful day when all this had started. She tried not to blush, but it wouldn’t have been noticable even if she had, because of how red her face was.

“Are you sure…I mean, of course, sir. I will try my best…but…there are others in the world, more powerful than me. Mind benders who could be more helpful…”

“You mean Jean Gray, the lady who turned into a fire-alien and almost blew up the world? Or Miss Martian, who comes from a race of conqueror aliens? Or Emma Frost, the woman who treats people like puppets and used to run an sex-cult for billionaires? Thanks but I’d much rather put my faith in people I can rely on. Besides, as far as I know, one or all of them are responsible for what’s happening. I can’t trust anyone that dangerous until I have more data.”

“What about my…illness?”

“I have ascertained your delusions are not dangerous. Once you have the support network you need, you will be fit for duty again, regardless of what Director Hill thinks. And I know for a fact that the Super Soldier serum which both you and Bobbi have in your bodies has made you resistant to the telepathic **** I’m tracking.”

“So, what you’re saying is…you need my help to save the world?” She asked, with a weak smile.

He smiled back. “Not just you…Bobbi and Elizabeth and the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D. are going to be vital, but I’m going to need you’re help to test them.”

She looked at her lap. “I’m still not sure…if I’m strong enough.” Her face hardened. “But I will do whatever I have to. To protect people.”

His smile widened. “That’s good…now listen, while I was talking with Elizabeth, she told me that she views you as a maternal figure. Is that something you would be comfortable helping me explore?”

“What-what do you mean?”

“I’m talking about Role-Play. Elizabeth suffers from childhood trauma and I need you to play a motherly role toward her, so that she can confront her resentment toward her biological mother.” He said.

“And…what does this have to do with her being brainwashed?” She asked, already imagining what this newest form of therapy might entail.

“Elizabeth is emotionally repressed, like you were Peggy. If we can help clear that stagnation, I can assess her empathy levels, and determine if she is being manipulated by an unseen ****.”

“Oh, I see.” She didn’t, but it wasn’t her place to know and to be honest, she clearly wasn’t as intelligent as she’d once believed she was.

“If that’s not something you can do, I will find someone else. I understand if it would be too painful to pretend to be someone’s mother.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Well, clearly, one of the contributors to your depression is your regret that you were never able to have a family. It is transparently from a psychological standpoint, that your attempts to be a role-model for the world, originate from a deep-seated desire to teach and nurture children.”

“Right…I…yes…” She flushed. She must be so transparent to him, all her desires and frustrations laid out in front of him without knowing.

“So, if it would be to traumatic for you to imagine Elizabeth as your daughter, I will understand.”

“No…If it will help Elizabeth…then I’ll do it.”

LOIS

Lois Lane sat behind a massive desk on the top floor of the Daily Planet. She’d covered the desk, which she still considered to be Perry’s desk, not hers, with all manner of mementos from her exciting career. Her awards, her Pulitzer, they were all at home. She’d never liked people who put their awards on their desks to begin with, or people who hung a copy of their best story on the wall. It smelled too much like desperation to her, a cry out of “Yes, I am still relevant!” Not to mention it was basically admitting your best work was behind you.

No, what was on her desk were a series of photos. There was one of her and Perry. One of her and Olson, god rest his soul. There was even one of her and Lex, before everything had gone bad. She kept them because they reminded her of where she’d come and who had helped her get here.

There was not a picture of Clark. Nor a picture of Jonathan, the son they’d had together.

Everyone in the world knew that she was Superman’s widow. Everyone in the world, it felt like, already pitied her. She didn’t need feel the need to remind them.

Besides, she had plenty of pictures of them at home, if she ever forgot what their faces really looked like. Advertising her grief, that would just make it all worse. The last thing she needed was some intern coming in with her coffee and finding her sobbing over an old family photo.

She reached past the antique typewriter which her younger writers probably thought she still used and picked up the massive mug which she’d been nursing since this morning, only to find it finally empty. Annoyed that Kelly Bratton, the intern whose incompetence she tolerated only because the girl’s father was the majority shareholder of the paper, had not returned to re-fill, she slid out of her seat and rounded the desk, heading out her office’s fancy doors and into the tiny kitchen where the girls sometimes slacked off.

She was unsurprised to find Kelly along with senior reporter Simone D’Neige, whose sole method of getting sources seemed to involve opening her legs up for any guy who thought a French accent was sexy. The two of them were currently bent over Kelly’s cellphone watching and giggling as they watched some YouTube Video instead of doing their jobs.

She ignored them as she re-filled her mug with the barely warm contents of the coffee maker. It was almost closing time anyway. Why badger them, when it would just take up more energy than she had?

“Oh, hey, Miss Kent?”

She glared into the grit of her coffee and spoke without looking up. “Lane, Kelly. It’s Miss Lane. Get it wrong again and I’ll have it carved into your desk.”

“Oh, uh…sorry? Anyway, remember how you told us to keep you updated if any stories broke about Supergirl?” Kelly asked, flipping her shoulder length blonde hair.

Lois lifted the mug and took a long sip, then nodded, noncommittally.

“Well, she like, totally got her ass kicked by Power Girl just like a few hours ago.”

Lois put down the mug carefully and swallowed the poorly made coffee. “What?”

“Yeah, there’s like videos of the fight all over the internet.” Kelly said, turning her phone to face Lois.

Lois watched the 240p upload of two figures, one dressed in white, the other in blue, fighting a few hundred feet above the ground. This was what people would rather look at then pay for quality photography.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Uh, you said if I heard anything about Super Girl-”

“No, I mean, what are you two doing, here in the office, watching a video of this, instead of out in the field, getting quotes and finding out what the hell happened?”

Kelly looked at Simone in confusion and Simone rolled her eyes. “Come now, Lois,” She said, stretching out one of her long legs. “The police station haven’t commented and the League won’t release a press statement until tomorrow.”

“Simone, I want you, Kelly, and Meg, wherever the hell she is, to get off your entitled asses. I don’t care if it takes all night. If the Bugle beat us to the press again, I’m replacing you both with chimps.”

She turned away before either of them could muster complaint and headed back to her office, contemplating the strange video. Super-heroines fought all the time. More often nowadays, that most of the old villains were gone. Still, there had been something troubling about the video. More vicious than the usual row. Lois was going to have to give Kara a call and see if she was alright.

After she finished editing an article which, based on the number of typos, had been written by a third grader with dyslexia.

ELIZABETH

What was wrong with her? Peggy had asked her to come here and she had shown up, half an hour early. Of course, she was eager to find out what had happened between Peggy and Bobbi. She was even more eager to find out if Peggy was actually alright.

But why had she just stood here, in front of the cottage, after determining it was empty, waiting for Peggy to come. It was because…because…

Well, she couldn’t just text her and ask her where she was. Peggy didn’t like phones at the best of time and always chided Elizabeth for spending too much time on them anyway. And she couldn’t call her, because that would make her sound needy, **** to talk.

It would make her sound like she felt.

For the fifth time, she considered it, as she stood in the chilly evening waiting for any sign of her host’s return. What if Peggy was in trouble? What if she’d had some kind of breakdown? Elizabeth had to do something, she had to be there for her, she couldn’t let her leave her agai-

What she meant, was that Peggy was too important. The world needed super-heroines like her, they reminded everyone what fighting the good fight even was. They needed her almost as much as Elizabeth needed her-

NO! She didn’t “need” Peggy, she just wanted her. She wanted her to be her commanding officer for the rest of her life, to protect her and teach her and tell her how proud of her she was-

No, that wasn’t important. What was important that Peggy was alright. Elizabeth didn’t know what she would do with herself if she wasn’t…

Relax, she told herself. She’s probably just out screwing that fat, balding doctor. For some reason though, the idea only made her more anxious. Anxious that Peggy was giving attention to that quack, who’s only contribution to the conversation had been to claim Elizabeth had mommy issues. Who did he think he was anyway? She wasn’t the one who needed mental help!

Not that Peggy did either, of course. Peggy was going to be fine. Elizabeth would make sure of it. She had to. She didn’t know what she’d do if she wasn’t.

Peggy’s trademark car pulled up and Elizabeth hated the little pitter-pat of her heart. Mommy was home! She meant Peggy. Peggy was home, obviously. They could finally spend some time together, maybe she could even show Peggy the new arrow she’d designed today.

And they could talk about Bobbi and important, grown-up stuff too…because Elizabeth was totally a grown-up She’d meant adult obviously, only children called themselves grown-ups, heh.

Then the door opened and that lousy doctor stepped out of the passenger seat, walking around the hood of the car and taking Peggy’s hand as if she were an aristocrat getting out of a carriage. Momm-Peggy! Peggy was strong and beautiful, she didn’t need any stinky men to protect her. She only needed Elizabeth. Elizabeth would be there to save her from the monsters, like she always was…

“Oh, hello, Lizzy, I’m so glad you could come.” Peggy said, sharing a smile with Dr. Whatever his name was and then sprinting over to Elizabeth and lifting her up in her great big, tree-trunk arms.

Elizabeth blushed. She should have been embarrassed by such overt affection from a co-worker. She should have been struggling to get her face out of Peggy’s massive breasts.

But it felt too good. She wanted to stay here forever, wrapped up in these arms, breathing in Peggy’s lovely smell, feeling that her big strong muscles, ready to protect her little girl…

No! Elizabeth wasn’t a little girl. She was a grown woman and an international assassin and all around badass. She didn’t need anyone treating her like a little girl. She could protect herself, for Christ sakes.

Still, as Peggy set Elizabeth down, she mentally cursed, already missing the comforting warmth of the embrace.

“You know you shouldn’t be out at night, this late, by yourself. Something could happen to you, sweet-heart.” Peggy said, with a stern look.

“I-I’m sorry…” Why was she apologizing? She could take any mugger and it wasn’t like this was a particularly dangerous part of town anyway. They were in the goddamn suburbs.

“It’s a good thing we showed up when we did, or who knows what might have happened to you?” Dr. Manheim said, as he approached from behind and slid an arm possessively around Peggy’s waist. Worse, she looked like she actually enjoyed it.

“Fuck off.” Elizabeth said, with a snarl. Why did he have to be here? This was supposed to be time for her and mo-Peggy! It was supposed to be for her and Peggy and he was ruining it!

“Lizzy, that kind of language is unacceptable, especially when direct toward a superior.” Peggy snapped and immediately, Elizabeth bit her lip in shame. “Dr. Manheim was just expressing his concern for your well being and you repaid him for his kindness by with utter rudeness. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Elizabeth kicked the grass of Peggy’s yard, afraid to look either of them in the eye. “I-I’m sorry…”

“You know that big girl words are only for people who are mature enough to know when they should or shouldn’t use them. You don’t know how to do that, do you, Little Lizzy?”

Elizabeth fumed. “That’s-no-I mean…I am an adult!”

Peggy shook her head and Elizabeth’s anger faded when she saw the disappointment in her face. “Don’t lie to Dr. Manheim, Lizzy, unless you want to end up over my knee.”

She should have laughed off the threat. But the second she looked up into her mommy’s eyes she knew that it wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. Briefly, she imagined being stripped of her big girl pants and thrown across Mommy’s knee, spanked until she was sobbing apologies for being such a naughty little fibber. It would almost be worth it if Mommy would hold her after it was over and run her big, strong hands all over Elizabeth’s sore botty.

“I-I…” She glanced between them. The correct response was to tell them both to fuck off…but she didn’t want to disappoint Peggy anymore than she already had.

“It’s alright Elizabeth, we’re just teasing you.” Dr. Manheim said. “Captain, why don’t you go inside and get dinner ready? I’m sure this little one’s tummy is already rumbling.”

Peggy glanced at Elizabeth, almost worried and then nodded and headed up the path to the now, unguarded stoop.

Dr. Manheim stepped closer to Elizabeth. “Sorry for making you uncomfortable, Miss Bishop.”

Elizabeth glared, but didn’t want to curse him out. Not while they were still in earshot of Peggy anyway.

“The truth is that Peggy resents the agency for taking away her ability to start a family. So, I devised this role play, where I’ll pretend to be her husband and you’ll play the role of her daughter. I know, I know, it’s a little strange, but she trusts you and right now, I need you to play along, so that I can help her.”

Elizabeth glanced at where Peggy had just stepped inside, her chest fluttering at the thought of helping the older woman. Plus…she’d get to pretend to be her real daughter, even if it was only for an evening.

Still, she glared at Dr. Asshole and flipped her hair nonchalantly. “Sure, I mean, it’s weird but if that’s what she needs.”

He grinned horribly and she felt like he could see right through her. Please, please don’t ruin this! She prayed. For some reason, Peggy respected this man and that meant Elizabeth had to deal with him until she realized what a smug jerk he was.

“Wonderful! I knew I could rely on you…now I’ve purchased some outfits to help set the tone.” He said as he hurried over to the stoop, where three packages were nestled by the door marked “Special Order.” He ran his fingers over each one, before handing the smallest of the three to Elizabeth. “Go to the bathroom and put that on. And when you come out, you’re not allowed to talk about S.H.I.E.L.D. and you’ll have to call me and Peggy, mom and dad, understand.”

She made to open the package to see what was inside, but he was already guiding her inside, the other two packages under his arm and closing and locking the door behind her. “No, hurry along, everything has to be perfect for this to work.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. She wished it could just be her and Peggy. Maybe once they’d bonded a little she could convince her to try this role-play thing out again, this time without a fat, balding middle-aged man around.

As soon as she got into the bathroom and had opened the box though, she knew there’d been some mistake. Inside was a little black dress made of velvet with embroidery of a songbird on the chest. There were also black socks, a pair of bright buckle heels, along with a training bra and a pair of white and pink bikini panties. It was all very classy and mature…for a twelve year old.

She was twenty-one. This couldn’t be the right outfit. She wanted to role-play as Peggy’s daughter, not dress up as a little girl.

She stormed out of the bathroom and through open the door to the bedroom. There, Dr. Manheim was in the middle of putting on a tux.

“Can I help you, Miss Bishop?” He asked.

“This is ridiculous!” She said, holding up the box. “You can’t expect me to wear all this!!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because…it’s too small!” She insisted.

“Your measurements are on file, Miss Bishop. I assure you that all items will fit, although some may be more tight than others.” His eyes seemed to linger on the bra and she closed the box, embarrassed that she was showing off a set of underwear to an older man.

“But this is ridiculous! How is any of this going to help Captain Carter?” She demanded.

He finished tying his bowtie and stepped closer to her. “Miss Bishop, are you a psychologist?”

“No! But-”

“Ah, well then there’s the problem. I know what I’m doing, Miss Bishop…I’m very good at it. If you’d prefer not to wear the costume, by all means leave. But if you intend to stay here, I must insist you wear the clothing, as recommended and follow my directions exactly.”

“But why does it have to be…this dress?” She said. She didn’t want to tell him why the dress bothered her. She suspected he already knew and was doing this on purpose. “Can’t I be like a flapper or something?”

He rolled his eyes like she was whiny teenager. “Miss Bishop, you disguise yourself for assignments all the time, do you not?”

She gritted her teeth. “Yeah…but-”

“But nothing…you are taking this wonderful opportunity for healing and making it all about your fashion preferences. If you’re too vapid and self-conscious, to wear one dress for one evening, then frankly I don’t want your help.”

She longed to punch him. But that wouldn’t get her anywhere. And it would probably disappoint Peggy too.

She groaned. “F-fine.” (ELIZABETH: +4 SP)(-6 SP)

She returned to the bathroom, ignoring the nagging sensation that she was being pulled into some kind of trap. It was just a dress and just a dinner. Besides, she was at Peggy’s house. She couldn’t imagine a safer place.

The reason why she hated the outfit as well as the rest of the outfit was not just because it was immature. The dress and heels in particular reminded her of her upbringing. The hours her mother would spend dressing her and coaching her for high society parties. And the disappointment when Elizabeth’s own tomboy tendencies inevitably bubbled to the surface.

Elizabeth had sworn off trying to look elegant. She knew she would never be as pretty as her mother had been, so it was a losing battle. Anyway, she liked the vests, belts, jumpsuits and boots of S.H.I.E.L.D., at least they were functional and not just an excuse to brag about money or looks.

Still, she put on the dress and the socks and the shoes. Once she’d bonded with Peggy, they’d be able to spend more time together, just the two of them. It would be worth it for the unpleasant memories.

She drew the line, however, at changing out of her boy-shorts and sports-bra.

As she stepped out of the bathroom, she could here a jazz standard playing on Peggy’s phonograph and smell the delicious scent of pasta and chicken flowing from the kitchen. She peaked into the living room and caught sight of Peggy, having already changed into her own costume.

This one was an elegant gown, the kind that Elizabeth’s own mother used to wear. It was accented by jewelry.

Peggy never wore jewelry.

Elizabeth suddenly felt under-dressed, wondering if she should have better prepared for this meeting. Of course, she couldn’t have known the details of the scenario would be so strange, but still…she wished she’d made more of an effort.

“There you are!”

Teetering on her heels, she turned to stare at Dr. Manheim, now the image of sophistication and she remembered that this was all his fault. Sure, her ears weren’t pierced anymore, but he could have provided her with a bracelet or a necklace of something.

“Your mother needs you to set the table.” He said.

She glared at him and didn’t bother to conceal her sigh. Fine, she would set the table. For Peggy. Not because he told her to.

She had just stepped into the kitchen to collect the necessary plates and cutlery, when Peggy turned away from what she was working on and grinned her.

“Oh, Lizzy…you look wonderful.” With that, she was scooping Elizabeth up again, in those big broad arms, squeezing her lithe body and slipping her back down onto her heels, causing Elizabeth to actually stumble for a moment and need Peggy’s help to steady herself.

“Umm…thanks. You look really pretty too…” She said, not sure why she felt so nervous.

“Thank you, darling.” Peggy smiled. Then she was turned away and Elizabeth was trying to remember why she was in this room to begin with.

That’s right. Setting the table.

She scooped up the fine china and recently hand-washed silver and carried it to the old oak table.

“No, no, Lizzy, that’s not right at all.” Said Dr. Manheim the moment when he entered the dining room, just as she was laying out the last place.

“Wha-what do you mean?” She frowned.

“Didn’t all those tutors we paid for teach you anything?” He asked, with an almost friendly air of condescension. “I suppose you were too busy day-dreaming about being a spy again to pay attention, huh?”

Her fists tightened at her sides. “Just tell me what I did wrong, okay?”

“Lizzy! I don’t want to hear you badmouthing your father again.” Peggy cautioned from the kitchen.

“Yes…mommy. Sorry.” Elizabeth stared at the plate trying to figure out what she’d done this time.

“It’s alright, I’ll help you.” He leaned over and she felt the warmth of his body and retreated. Still, she watched as he laid out the silverware, placing the fork on the left side and the knife on the right.

“Do you think you can do that for all of them, Lizzy?”

She fumed. She felt like there was an explosion in her chest, begging to be let out. Instead, she nodded and slowly began to re-arrange the silverware to his specifications. (ELIZABETH: +5 SP)(-1 SP) She hated this too. There was always something she was doing wrong. It seemed to her that all the little rules which her mother and father had insisted were so important, existed only to alienate and isolate people like her, who just wanted to eat and be done with it.

“Very good, see, don’t I always tell you that you’re my clever little girl?” Dr. Manheim asked, while he had the audacity to clap, to clap, at her successful arrangement of cutlery.

She wanted to tell him to shut up. But Peggy would here, and then she’d really be in trouble, so instead, she just stood there, embarrassed of her own ignorance and her own inability to fight back against these ridiculous mind games.

“Now go ahead and thank daddy for teaching you how to do it.”

She couldn’t contain her frustration anymore. “Knock it off!” She demanded.

She’d wanted to say something worse, more vulgar. But it didn’t matter, she realized, as a shadow fell across her. She had disrespected her “father” one way or another.

She turned to look up at Peggy, suddenly feeling a pit open up in her stomach.

“What did you say?” She demanded.

“I-I…he-he was messing with me!” Elizabeth cried.

“Your father wants what’s best for you, just like I do.” With that, she reached out and brushed her hand along the side of Elizabeth’s face. Elizabeth had to struggle not to nuzzle into the touch. Oh god, she was so strong and so beautiful.

“Now, what did I tell you?”

“No b-badmouthing…” She said. The touch was gone, as was the warmth, in its place was the cold unreadability of a soldier.

“And what did you do?” Manheim asked, stepping closer to her.

She scowled at him. “I…I disobeyed mommy.” (ELIZABETH: +3 SP)(+2 SP)

Peggy nodded and then looked at the doctor. “What should her punishment be?”

“I think she should have to write ‘I will respect daddy’, let’s say a hundred times because it’s nice and even.” He said with a smile.

He was getting off on this, humiliating her. He’d probably chosen gotten this outfit because it aroused him. Just thinking about it made her feel violated and objectified. How stupid was she to let him put her in this position?

“Elizabeth, go to my bedroom. There’s some paper and pens on my desk. You can use those to write out your apology.” Peggy said, pointing dismissively.

Elizabeth looked at her and then at Manheim. They didn’t actually expect her to do that, did they? Her eyes met with Manheim’s.

“Go ahead and make sure you do it right.”

She looked back at Peggy and realized she had to play along. Peggy was her mommy and she had decided Elizabeth needed to be punished. The sooner she got it this punishment over with, the sooner she could have dinner. And maybe spend some time with Peggy.

She headed to the bedroom, sitting in the dim light of the vintage desk lamp and writing “I will respect daddy” as her expertly trained ears picked up the sounds of plates clinking and food being served. (ELIZABETH: +6 SP)(+8 SP)

Her stomach grumbled. It didn’t matter. This was just some stupid game to make Peggy feel better. She would play along. She would be a good girl and once Peggy saw how creepy this doctor was, she’d stand up for Elizabeth and get rid of him.

Elizabeth remembered the slightly lecherous gleam in his eyes and shuddered.

She heard the two of them talking as they ate, not even bothering to wait for her to return to start the meal. Like she didn’t even exist. Peggy laughed at a joke which Manheim told and Elizabeth suddenly remembered how stupid she looked, in this ridiculous dress, writing lines like a child. Why was she here? Was she really this starved for affection, that she’d let them treat her in such a demeaning way?

She finished her punishment and returned to the table, her hands twitching around the sheet of paper on which she’d written her apologies. As soon as they saw her, they paused whatever adult conversation they’d been having and Manheim grinned at her horribly. She felt like their relationship had somehow changed when Peggy had punished her. Like he was now taller, more imposing, holding greater authority over her fate.

“I did what you asked.” She said, holding up the sheet.

“Let me take a look.” Manheim said, before Peggy could invite her to sit down.

She handed over the papers, hating how contrite she felt. She was a super spy, she wasn’t supposed to be so easily flustered and intimidated. Still, she felt like her old timid self as he looked over the sheet, his expression slowly souring.

“Darling, didn’t we pay to have this girl tutored in calligraphy?” He asked, handing the papers to Peggy.

Elizabeth avoided the frown which Peggy gave her, feeling like she had done something very wrong but didn’t know what it was.

“Yes, I believe we did.” Peggy said, looking over the page.

“Do you think that her handwriting is appropriate for a girl of her age and status?” He asked.

Peggy looked at him and then at Elizabeth and shook her head, handing the paper back to Manheim.

Status? What were they talking about? It was hard to concentrate on the words, not while the smell of Italian sausage and buttery linguine filled her nostrils. She was suddenly very aware of how long it had been since she’d had a home-cooked meal.

“I’m sorry, Lizzy, but this is unacceptable…” Manheim said, standing up and moving to the garbage bin in the kitchen and dumping the paper inside. “You know better than this and I told you to do it right.” He sighed as if dealing with an extremely stupid person (or an exceptionally disobedient child, she didn’t know which was worse). “There’s nothing for it, you’ll have to start over.”

The words registered in her mind after a moment of stunned silence. “Wha-what? That’s ridiculous! I did what you said!”

“Lizzy…” Peggy warned.

“But I did it! I wrote that stupid phrase one hundred times!” Elizabeth said.

“Yes, but you wrote it like a chimp the first time he’d picked up a pencil.” Manheim said as he sat back down. “Handwriting is still important, Lizzy, even if you do spend all day on your texting your friends instead of writing to them properly. Now, I want you go back to your mother’s room and write it again, and this time, do it properly.”

She looked between him and Peggy again and this time snarled. “NO! I’m not doing that!”

Peggy stood up, her full height almost two feet taller than Elizabeth. “That’s enough. Clearly, this punishment didn’t work, because you still have no respect for your superiors.”

Elizabeth felt a twinge of fear, deep inside, the same twinge she’d gotten when her mother had gotten her report card.

“I-I-” She began.

“Would you prefer a trip over my knee, young lady?” Peggy demanded.

Elizabeth imagined briefly the horror of being exposed and spanked in front of this dirty old man. She shook her head violently.

“Then you will obey your father and do as he suggests.” Peggy informed her.

“But…but…can’t I have dinner first?” She felt like she might burst into tears from the cruelty of it all.

Peggy looked to Manheim and he seemed to consider it for a moment. “Maybe if you had accepted your punishment like a good girl in the first place. But now that you’ve shown us what a brat you are, I’m not even sure you deserve dinner anymore.”

“What?! But…that’s not fair!” She stomped her heel, ready to jump across the table and give him a piece of her mind with her fists.

He lifted a single eye-brow, then Peggy had grabbed Elizabeth by the ear and turned her over the table. It all happened so fast it took a second to register what had just happened, but when it did, Elizabeth was instantly gripped by panic.

“P-Peggy, what are you doing?!” She demanded, as she tried to wriggle out of the ironclad hold on her ear. The pinching pain was briefly relieved, but only by the smack of Peggy’s massive palm down on Elizabeth’s rear.

WHAP!

Elizabeth let out a sound like a hiccup, from the shock of the hit and then her eyes locked with Dr. Manheim. He was smiling a smile that told her that he had her by the nipples and he knew it.

“It’s very rude to call your mother by her first name, Lizzy.” Manheim said as he speared a sausage.

WHACK!

“You should apologize.” He bit off a chunk of the sausage as Peggy’s hand slapped down on Elizabeth’s pert little ass for a third time.

WHACK!

“Peggy, stop! Stop it! Right now!” She demanded, trying to push the larger woman off. It was useless. Elizabeth was strong, you had to be to use a bow. But her attempts were like that of a child against an adult. She was incapable of protecting her bottom from the stinging strikes.

“Stop! I don’t want to do this role-play stuff anymore!” Elizabeth insisted, as Peggy’s hand came down with another seismic CRACK! across her thighs.

Peggy paused to look at Manheim, again waiting for his permission to know what to do next. He just nodded and she began picking up the pace, slapping down on Elizabeth’s baby fat thighs and cheeks with reckless abandon. The only consolation that Elizabeth recieved was the knowledge that Peggy hadn’t lifted her skirt as of yet. Still, the soothing material of the velvet dress afforded her little protection against the divine punishment that was Peggy’s hand and Elizabeth could do nothing but squirm and cry out as she eventually gave up trying to reason with Peggy or escape her grasp.

“Okay, I’m sorry…I’m sorry!” She said, with tears in her eyes, wiggling her backside fruitlessly to avoid Peggy’s hand. “Please, I’ll write the lines again! I’ll do it better…just stop spanking me!” (ELIZABETH: +11 SP)(+19 SP)

“Ah-ah-ah. What do we say to mommy first?” Manheim asked, as he dabbed at his lips with a cloth napkin.

“I’m sorry, mommy! I won’t call you that again! Please stop!” (ELIZABETH: +2 SP)(+21 SP)

“And thank her for punishing you, so that you can be a better girl.” Manheim said, standing up and walking around the table and over to the other side of her body. Elizabeth longed to kick out at him, particularly toward the groin area, but doing so would only prolong her agony.

She twisted to look back at him and then felt Peggy’s hand clap down on the curve of her butt again. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry! Thank you…thank you mommy for punishing me!” (ELIZABETH: +4 SP)(+25 SP)

Peggy’s hand finally stopped coming down and she let go of Elizabeth’s ear, allowing for Elizabeth to relax for a moment. Despite the pain in her ass and the knots in her chest at the humiliation of this scenario, somehow she now knew she had deserved the punishment.

Manheim was her superior and she was supposed to obey him. He was clearly smarter and more accomplished than she was, even if he was a perv.

Then she felt the warmth of his hand on her lower back.

“Lift up your skirt…” He demanded.

She glanced back at Peggy, knowing that she would start again if she disobeyed. Pressing her face into the surface of the table in frustration, she reached back and drew up her skirt, showing them both the reddened surface of her ass, as well as her purple boy-shorts. (ELIZABETH: +7 SP)(+32 SP)

“Can you believe this? Not only does she disrespect me, disobey you, and deliberately set the table wrong and write illegibly, but she isn’t wearing the panties I picked out for her.” Manheim complained.

Peggy glared again at Elizabeth, who felt like she wanted to curl up into a ball and die. “Oh, so she disobeyed you.”

“Yes, clearly she needs some kind of punishment. But first things first,” He turned back to Elizabeth. “Lizzy, take off this ridiculous boyish garments. If you want to disobey your father, you can spend the evening without underwear at all.”

“What?! No! Please…” She begged them with her eyes. “I’m sorry! I’ll put on the panties you chose, I’ll do the writing…just please, don’t make me do that.”

Manheim sighed and turned back to Peggy as if he was discussing the weather. “I suppose there’s nothing for it. Maybe a bare-bottomed spanking will change her attitude.”

“NO! No, please, I’ll take them off…” **** not to be spanked in front of this perverted bastard, she tugged down the boy-shorts with one hand, letting them fall to her ankles and revealing all her charms to her “parents.” (ELIZABETH: +9 SP)(+41 SP)

“See with just a little bit of discipline, she’s already acting like the sweet, helpless little girl we know she is.” Manheim said, lightly patting her sore ass. She should have broken his hand for that. But somehow, she didn’t feel capable of that kind of rebellion anymore. He was her superior, he held her career in his hands and she knew that retaliation at this point would only invite further disgrace.

“Can I drop my skirt now?” She begged.

“Not by a long shot, you still have to be punished for disobeying my direct orders. Now, tell us why you wore that boy’s underwear instead of the panties I specifically picked out for you.”

She flushed. “I didn’t like them. They-they were too childish…”

“And yet now, here you are, bent over the dining room table, your ass the color of cherries, about to be sent away to write lines. Do you feel like an adult right now, Lizzy?”

She glanced between them and then shook her head, dolefully. She’d been defeated, she could only hope now they’d have some measure of mercy on her quivering overheated body.

“Peggy, I think I know what this behavior calls for. Hold her here while I get what this little brat needs.”

Elizabeth whimpered and looked pleadingly at Peggy as the man disappeared, but she saw no sign of the slightest bit of mercy. Just disappointment. She sunk her face into the table. Not only had she allowed herself to be treated and punished like a child, but she’d also disappointed the only person who’s opinion really mattered. What had started off as a dream come true was now a nightmare in the making.

Manheim returned with a kit from the bathroom and at first, Elizabeth wasn’t sure what he was holding.

“Darling, since this young lady is so intent to show how adult she is, I think it only right we deprive cleanse her of the illusion of womanhood.” As he said it, he pulled out a cannister of shaving cream and the razor that Peggy must have used for her legs. Realizing what was about to happen, Elizabeth involuntarily shut her legs, trying to hide her vulnerables from the glinting blade.

“Lizzy, I want you to beg me to shave you.” Manheim said, as he took of the cap of the shaving cream.

She quivered and considered trying to escape this complete violation of her adulthood. Then she broke into sobs and gave in. “Puh-please, shave me…” (ELIZABETH: +6 SP)(+47 SP) Even as she said it, she had to hold back a groan, a sudden wave of pleasure rolling through her newly exposed pussy lips.

“Ah-ah-ah, what did we learn about calling your parents by their proper names?”

She winced and dug her face into the cool wood of the table. “Please shave me…daddy?” (ELIZABETH: +2 SP)(+49 SP)

“What part of you do you want me to shave, little one?”

She rolled her eyes heavenward as if asking for a miracle, before she said the words. “My pussy.”

“Oh, she’s so confused…she still thinks she’s a big girl, don’t you Lizzy?” He knelt then and she felt his hot breath against the inside of her tingling thighs, rustling against her dark brown pubes. “Big girls have pussies, Lizzy. Your mommy has a pussy, all the women who work at S.H.I.E.L.D. have pussies. But you’re not a woman, are you?”

Elizabeth pressed her face into the table again and shook it slowly, lacking the willpower to protest. (ELIZABETH: +7 SP)(+56 SP)

“That’s right, and little girl’s don’t have pussies…big girls have pussies. Big girls get to play with themselves and get fucked. Big girls get to dress however they want and grow out their hair. But little girls like you have kitties. And kitties aren’t for playing with, and they certainly aren’t for being naughty with boys. Kitties are pretty little, delicate things, which should always be hidden behind a nice cute pair of panties, so that no one ever confuses one for a pussy. The only time when a little girl like you should be showing off her kitty, is when she’s going to the bathroom, do you understand?”

She nodded again, numbly.

“Now, do you have a pussy, Lizzy?”

She moaned in the back of her throat and shook her head again. (ELIZABETH: +2 SP)(+58 SP)

“I can’t hear you.” He said, slapping her lightly on the ass to get her attention.

“I don’t have a pussy!” She sobbed wondering if this horror would ever end. (ELIZABETH: +5 SP)(+63 SP) The worst part about all of this, was the tingle she was getting from down below. For some reason, obeying his awful commands was turning her on and she was sure he could see it.

“What do you have, pretty girl?”

She wanted to hold her tongue. But she knew it would do her no favors. “A-a kitty…” (ELIZABETH: +2 SP)(+65 SP)

“That’s right…a pretty little kitty, begging to be shaved…now go ahead and use your words to ask for what you know you want, Lizzy.”

Her whole body shook and she was sure she was shaking her pale ass and inflamed coochie enticingly for him without even meaning to. She knew the moment she said it, the pleasure would roll over her and he would see how much of a pathetic little freak she was, dripping out of her slot.

“Puh-please da-daddy…sh-shave my kitty.” (ELIZABETH: +1 SP)(+66 SP)

She almost came right then from the words, but something stopped her.

“Of course, Little Lizzy. Daddy will always be here to shave your kitty, I know you’d do it yourself if you weren’t such a useless little bitch.” With that, she felt the cool hiss of shaving cream being applied to her nethers without her consent. It granted some relief from the burning desire which was tormenting her, although not as much as she needed to get a hold of herself.

“Now remember not to wiggle while daddy is cleaning up this naughty little kitty…otherwise mommy’s razor might slip and Lizzy might never be able to have cummies again.”

The statement terrified her and she wondered, briefly, if he might just do it and circumcise her on purpose. She’d never be able to enjoy sex again and Peggy would believe him over her. She was after all, just a naughty little girl for them to torment. In their eyes, she didn’t deserve to climax in the first place.

For some reason, just the idea of having her sex life so ruthlessly destroyed, turned her on more than anything else that had already happened. She had to tense every muscle in her body, to avoid pushing into the creepy middle aged doctor’s hand as he destroyed every once of her well-groomed bush. As much as she wanted to rub against his knuckles, to get some release from this wave of perverted excitement, she was too afraid of what might happen if the razor did slip, to give into debauchery.

When the task was done, her pussy, sorry, “kitty” was smooth as the day she was born, although still soaked and begging for attention.

“You can drop your skirts now.” Manheim said, as he stood up.

Elizabeth, whose hands had been cramping up, jumped for joy to release the velvet fabric and she felt the slightest bit better, that her engorged pussy lips were at least now hidden from sight.

“Now, what do you say to daddy?” Peggy demanded, as she slowly pulled Elizabeth to her feet.

Elizabeth stared at the carpet, her face now itchy from dried tears. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Of course, Lizzy. Now, I think you have a hundred lines to write, if you want to eat any dinner tonight.”

Elizabeth nodded slowly and trotted off in the direction of the bedroom, occasionally squeezing her legs together to try to relieve the overwhelming need.

KARA

The Watchtower had been cutting edge tech when it first left the atmosphere.

With everything that Starktech and Lexcorp had whipped up over the past few decades, it felt out of place. Like when you watched an old sci-fi movie where their interpretation of the future was completely out of date.

The worst thing was the silence. Kara remembered when the halls of the station had been filled with the sounds of movement, where superheroes of all ages had joked and practiced alongside one another, swapping stories and trying to outdo one another.

Now it was almost as quiet as the vacuum which had surrounded it.

Kara sat on a mattress in the Medical Bay, letting the computer scan her, while she stared at her reflection in the nearest window. This side of the Watchtower was pointed away from Earth, so that all that could be seen was the cold light of the stars. They had once been full of so much life, she remembered.

What had happened to them?

“There you are…I thought you were gonna be missing a limb from the way Diana was talking about it.”

It was M’gann. The two of them met for “Alien Club” each month with Kori, Barda and Shayera. Karen had been invited of course…and of course, she had declined.

Her bob of red hair flopped incongruously against her freckled green skin as she floated over to Kara’s perch, wearing the same frilly skirt and tight white blouse that she always had, a fashion choice which Kara believed had been inspired by her. She felt slightly envious, that M’gann was allowed to wear a skirt as part of her costume and she wasn’t.

Of course, she wasn’t entirely sure if the costume was part of M’gann’s shape-shifting abilities or if it were an actual set of clothes which had been created. Either way, it was almost impossible to stay angry with M’gann for any amount of time.

“Are you alright?” M’gann asked, reaching out for Kara’s face and making her pull away. As much as she loved M’gann, the girl had never really gotten the hang of social norms or appropriate vs inappropriate physical contact.

“I thought she was going to kill me.” Kara answered, honestly.

M’gann’s face fell and she adjusted her posture. “Is there any reason you know, why she might have done what she did?”

Kara struggled not to growl. Of course. In the old days, the League was like a family, where members actually comforted and cared about each other. Now Diana or someone equally tone deaf had to send the local alien to talk to Kara, and prise details out of her, like she was a traumatized victim, not a former member. Or worse, like it was her fault.

She couldn’t wait for them to all be under Gerry’s thumb. Then they’d realize where they’d gone wrong, but it would be too late to beg for forgiveness. “She had been spying on me. She was spying on me…she said it was because I was being mind-controlled. But she was the ones acting creepy…I asked her about it. And she punched me.”

“Really?” M’gann supposedly had “rules” about not reading the minds of people she liked. However, it didn’t take a mind-reader to tell that Kara was hiding something.

“I don’t want to talk about it, M’gann…the second I get back to National City, there’s gonna be a hundred reporters asking me why Power Girl attacked me…it’s not my fault that everyone likes her better than me, okay?”

“Kara, that’s not true.” The naive Martian fell for it, hook, line and sinker.

“Yes, it is. When people look at her, they see a woman…a flirty, attention-hungry woman, but a woman.” She looked down at her own costume, which having dried, now smelled faintly of salt. “But when they look at me, they still see Superman’s little cousin…I’m twenty-five years old, M’gann, but they still treat me like a little girl.”

She hung her head. “People don’t want super-heroines who are likable anymore…they just want people power fantasies in slutty outfits.”

“Kara, please.” Again, M’gann reached out, this time taking Kara’s head into her hands and brushing the hair from her bruised face. “You are an inspiration to little girls everywhere. You are not Superman’s cousin, you are the only person he trusted to take up the mantle after he was gone. He knew you would do great and he was right.”

Kara stared into M’gann’s dark green eyes and let her head hang forward. It was all too much, the fight, she had been alright with. But being back here, being treated like this by people she used to trust. It was too much.

“I’m sorry M’gann…but she lost her home, twice. And she treats me like it’s my fault.” Kara slid off her seat and leaned toward the window. “We’re the only two Kryptonians left, but whenever I try to be nice to her, she looks at me like I’m a whiny puppy **** for her attention.”

She stared into space for a moment and then turned back to M’gann, her eyes burning bright. “If she wants to treat me like dirt, then I’m done playing nice.”

M’gann took a step back, her face flashing with something that Kara hadn’t seen in her before. Fear.

“Kara…what happened to you?” Was all she said.

The little bitch was probably reading her mind right now. Just so she could laugh at her for being humiliated in public, for being so pathetic she couldn’t even get off on her own. For being such an exhibitionist, **** to be objectified and humiliated. For being such a little girl, incapable of making her own decisions.

For being so easily abused, willing to be treated like a punching bag to appease her master.

Kara shook her head as she stepped past her. “I grew up.”

BOBBI

The Hideaway was a bar along the waterfront of National City, frequented by the dockworkers and night-walkers, who called the warehouse district home. Bobbi Morse was neither, although she could have passed for the latter had she been dressed in her usual skin-tight costume.

She remembered how often she’d fought with Clint over that costume. He’d complained that it was a little too risqué. She’d ask if he’d ever say that to Janet or Natasha. He’d say he was screwing one of them.

She rolled her eyes fondly. She’d loved Clint, but he’d never been as big of a feminist as she’d hoped. He couldn’t see that it wasn’t that she wanted men to think about fucking her (not that the outfit had ever made it more difficult to seduce a target). She just wanted to feel sexy and confident, in control of her life and her image.

She’d been hurt by so many men, she refused let them tell her what she was or was not allowed to wear.

Still, as she nursed her fifth Old Fashioned (her enhanced metabolism required a stunning amount of **** to get her even tipsy, a fact she’d used to her advantage to drink a number of men under the table in the past), a part of her nagged at her. It told her that if she had given up sexy costume, she might have been Captain of her own team by now. It said that if one man was really enough for her, she would be married by now.

Whatever. At least she wasn’t like Maria, who had no social life to speak of and would probably die in her office, hated by everyone who worked for her. At least she wasn’t Peggy. The woman hadn’t dated anyone since she came out of the ice. Knowing how self-righteous and overbearingly naive she was, the forty-year-old woman was probably still a virgin, waiting for her wedding night and her one true love.

Bobbi slammed back the rest of her drink and dumped some bills on the counter. Sure, she was well-paid. Maria couldn’t afford not to pay her, with all the thing she knew about S.H.I.E.L.D. But what use was money anyway, when everything good in your life slowly went away.

She slid off her stool, ignoring the leering looks from more than a few half-sloshed sailors. Let them look. If any of them got any fresh ideas though about touching her though, they’d be returning to sea with a hook for a hand.

Marching out of the Hideaway, she pulled out her keys and unlocked her canary yellow sports car. She slid inside and plugged in the familiar coordinates into the car’s auto-driver. Bobbi would play Maria’s little game, but first, her and Peggy needed to clear the air, without any doctors or directors breathing down their necks.

GERRY

Over dinner I had mulled over the options for Maria. It was another situation where one of the traits was inherently more fun and the other would make control easier. Of course, once Maria was under my control, I could order her to embarrass herself.

However, another part of me wanted to see her unable to control herself. It was the same part of me which had wanted to jump the gun on the Tolerance Lock. The part which longed to fuck with these women just to see what happened.

Eventually, as I nodded along to Peggy’s lovely small-talk, I said fuck it. I was in this to have fun and I didn’t know how long it would be before I was able to take down the bitch. This trait at least would keep me amused while I turned her entire organization against her. Plus, it wasn’t like making Maria more paranoid than she already was would be super subtle either.

I clicked on Route A, already wondering how the cunt would embarrass herself tomorrow, in front of Elizabeth, Peggy and Bobbi. Maybe I’d turn her into my little jester once I had complete control over her. With nice little bells hanging from her nipples.

As I muddled over the thought, I got an update from the app.

ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED - FIVE EASY SUBS

Congratulations, you’ve gained traits on five different subjects! - Here's your reward: +10 SP.

As soon as I’d clicked away from that a second notification showed up.

-CONGRATULATIONS!-

You have reached a total of 500 SP, unlocking the following trait for yourself:

COMMANDING AURA: When a subject obeys a humiliating command within the first hour of meeting the user, you earn twice as many SP from them.

Additionally, the user can now sell unneeded traits. Level 1 traits (un-upgraded ones) are worth 100 SP, Level 2 traits are worth 200 SP and Level 3 traits are worth 300 sp.

Well, that certainly adjusted my plans. On the one hand, it meant I was going to have to plan out my first encounters with super-heroines, to maximize the SP I gained from them. On the other hand, it just made me excited to seek out new slaves. And if Kara helped me, that meant I could quadruple the points in the first hour of meeting!

I tried not to get ahead of myself, putting my phone away after that. It was vital to my plan that I break Elizabeth tonight. I needed to focus on how I was going to complete destroy her dignity. I could fantasize about Black Canary and Donna Troy once I had S.H.I.E.L.D. under my grip.

After I’d finished shaving Elizabeth and she’d been sent away, well spanked and deprived of her underwear, I adjourned to the living room with Peggy, where we sat side by side in comfortable silence, listening to her phonograph play records.

I was sure that I had unlocked at least one new trait for Elizabeth, but I tried to hide the eagerness to check my phone from Peggy. She was so proud of the meal she’d made and the discipline she’d enforced. I couldn’t help but give her a kiss on the cheek and tell her what a good job she’d done. She lit up with so much pride and demure femininity, I hardly recognized her as the same person who had broken down begging for my help only a few hours ago.

“I know it’s hard, doing this to Miss Bishop.” I ventured and saw her smile diminish slightly. Rather than speak, she just lowered her head, as if she had already accepted her place as totally subservient to my whims.

“But you and I both know that pretty girls like her shouldn’t be running around, shooting arrows at terrorists.” I said, rubbing her gently under the chin and coaxing her into a smile.

“It’s all for her own good.” She agreed. This Tolerance Lock was a hell of a thing. I was pleased though that it seemed to provoke a less **** reaction from her, now that she felt protected and loved. Of course, she also liked Elizabeth, which probably helped. I’d have to be sure she could keep a lid on her more outlandish ideals before I took it for a spin in the real world.

“Once you’ve retired, would you like to keep her?” I asked, stroking her cheek gently. “I know you’d love me to put a bun in your oven, but having a little doll to re-educate could be a wonderful experience for you both.”

She closed her eyes. “Whatever feels right to you, sir.”

I grinned. She wasn’t turned on by humiliating Elizabeth like I was. But she was willing to go through with it, if it meant she made me happy.

“Miss Carter, I think you deserve a reward.” I said, as I undid my trousers. She stared almost longingly at my quickly hardening cock and I realized she was probably soaked herself from following my orders all day.

Not to mention with her advanced metabolism, one orgasm a day was hardly enough to satisfy her enhanced stamina.

I gave her a nod and with that same cute little expression of joy, she slid herself off her seat and onto my cock, pulling up her skirt and pulling down her panties in one motion.

As she rode me, her low panting slowly turning into squeaks and moans, I pulled out my phone and checked to see what all this work on Elizabeth’s psyche had earned me.

-CONGRATULATIONS!-

You got 50 points on Elizabeth Bishop in one day! You have unlocked a bonus effect on Elizabeth Bishop!

Clothing Lock: The subject is unable to wear any clothing that the user hasn’t given permission for. The subject will give themselves a rational reasoning for this.

I grinned at the idea of making Elizabeth walk into S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, dressed in a pink ruffly dress. It sounded to **** at first, but then I realized it was the perfect set up to **** Maria to make Elizabeth my patient. Not that there would be too much work left to do with her after tonight.

-CONGRATULATIONS!-

You got 75 points on Elizabeth Bishop in one day! You have unlocked a bonus effect on Elizabeth Bishop!

Promiscuity Lock: The subject is unable to flirt, dress provocatively, masturbate without assistance or solicit sex. This overrides all other locks and traits.

That one was less useful, but exciting nonetheless. It meant I could take off the orgasm lock and poor little Lizzy still wouldn’t be able to tease a nice big climax out of her soft pink kitty. It opened up a whole new world of orgasm denial.

Speak of which…

Elizabeth had just showed up, carrying three pages of writing in one hand and was now hiding her blushing face from the scene in front of her.

“Ummm…I-I finished with my punishment.”

“It’s alright, little one…you don’t have to look away…mommy and daddy are just enjoying special time.” I told her as I groped Peggy through the dress.

Elizabeth slowly turned to look at us and I smiled at the gleam of lust in her eyes.

“Darling, this is the fourth time she’s entered a room without bothering to curtsy for us.” I said to Peggy as I thrust up into her, causing her legs to tremble and her toes to curl inside her heels.

“Ah-y-yes sir…”

I looked from the gorgeous woman atop me to the frazzled, no doubt dripping little girl a few feet away. “Do you know how to curtsy, Lizzy?”

She held a hand up to her mouth and nodded slowly.

“Well, then, what are you waiting for? Curtsy for mommy and daddy, then we can see if you messed up your punishment again.”

Elizabeth fussed with her skirt, her hands clenching and unclenching around it, before she dipped one leg and raised the skirt daintily in unison. (ELIZABETH: +2 SP)(+68 SP) She was the picture of femininity, a blushing, aroused, submissive little ****. I hadn’t been sure yet if I ever wanted to fuck her, but I sure as hell preferred her all dolled up like this to when I’d first met her, trying desperately to exude confidence and masculinity.

“Aww, poor little Lizzy doesn’t even remember how to curtsy. Go ahead, baby girl, and this time, show mommy and daddy the only part of you that really matters.”

She looked confused for a moment, before she caught my meaning. Then she closed her eyes and performed the same dipping motion, this time tugging her skirt much higher and exposing her twitching and sticky pussy to us both. (ELIZABETH: +3 SP)(+71 SP)

“Gooooood girl.” I said, as nibbled on Peggy’s shoulder. “Now, come over here and show me your handwriting.”

As soon as she let go of her skirt, I shook my head. “Daddy didn’t tell you to stop curtsying, did he?”

She paled and then shook her head, dragging the skirt back up and walking over to us both with her recently shaved pussy exposed to us both. (ELIZABETH: +2 SP)(+73 SP)

I took the papers from her and flipped through them, pretending to read the delicately re-written phrases. Then I smirked at Elizabeth.

“Well done, Lizzy. You finally did something right.” Her whole body trembled with the approval in my words. “And judging from the state of your kitty, it seems like you want a nice big reward.”

She looked panicked for a moment and then stared at Peggy who’s eyes had rolled back in her head at this point and who was now letting out guttural noises every few seconds.

“Don’t worry, little Lizzy, daddy can still give you a reward even if he’s busy with mommy. You’re too young to be a real relationship anyway, so it’s not like it will be cheating.” I told her, as I kneaded Peggy’s breasts.

Elizabeth squirmed, her face twitching with pain. “I-I have to go to the bathroom…”

I grinned. The girl had been waiting outside for us for almost an hour and hadn’t gotten a chance to use the restroom the entire evening.

“Oh, that’s alright…you can go to the bathroom just as soon as you get your reward.” And with that, I extended my right leg between Elizabeth’s feet.

She stared at Peggy and then at my leg in more agonized indecision, before lowering herself onto my shin and beginning to work herself off atop my leg. (ELIZABETH: +4 SP)(+77 SP)

As her rubbing increased in pace, I began to bounce my leg slightly, as if giving her a deranged horsey ride and watched as she bit her lip to keep from groaning as obnoxiously as her former mentor. Then I turned to Peggy and spoke loud enough for Elizabeth to hear me.

“You can cum now.” Was all I said, before the massive woman let out an unearthly screech and fell backwards onto me. I shifted her dazed form off my lap slightly, so that I had an unobstructed view of Elizabeth’s degradation.

As predicted, witnessing Peggy’s release only increased Elizabeth’s desperation.

I took the opportunity to begin my evil monologue.

“You’re wondering why you can’t cum, aren’t you, Miss Bishop?” I said, dropping the pretense.

She looked at me and then looked away, increasing her pace and flicking her hips desperately against my pant-leg.

“It’s because you need my permission.” I said, as slowed the bouncing of my leg and forcing her to respond with even more **** motions to keep up the pressure.

She looked back at me then and I saw the flash of realization deep within her skull. She was so destroyed by this point, she could probably hardly comprehend the revelation.

“Your whole childhood, you were always **** for approval. Your mother’s approval, your father’s approval. You know why you dress up like a man and took the title of a male superhero? You know why you were inspired by him, and not the hundreds of female superheroines? It’s because you want to be a man, Miss Bishop. Every time you looked at your mother, all you saw was someone weak and disinterested in you. Of course, your father didn’t love you either, but at least he had the excuse of having a job. What was your mother’s excuse, Lizzy?”

She shook her head. “Sh-she had her charities…”

“That’s right. She wanted to look after people, your mother, just not you.”

There were tears in her eyes and I felt the familiar rush of having brought someone stronger, younger and more accomplished than me into a pitiful state.

“And now you want my approval…you know that you don’t deserve to orgasm, unless you get it. What are you going to do, Lizzy, if I decide not to give it to you? If I decide not to allow you to use the bathroom ever again?”

She dragged her nails along the inside of her thighs and I could tell she was picturing enacting some kind of ****. Then she opened her eyes and sobbed. “Please…please…let me cum.” (ELIZABETH: +2 SP)(+79 SP)

“You’re going to have to try harder than that.” I told her, as I opened my phone and began scrolling through it.

She wiggled on my leg and then spoke in a high pitched voice. “Please Daddy, let my little kitty h-have cummies.” (ELIZABETH: +3 SP)(+82 SP)

“Good girl. Go ahead and have your cummies.” I told her, as I opened up the app.

She let out a seething sound between her teeth and then I felt her spasm and squirt all over my pant-leg, before sliding to the carpet and panting with exhaustion and relief.

“What do we say when someone gives us something we want?” I asked, grabbing the front of her dress and using it to wipe off my leg.

Her eyes lolled to meet mine and she spoke in a tiny, breathless voice. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Good girl. Now, I want to see that cute little butt of yours high up in the air as you crawl to the bathroom, alright?” I asked.

She nodded slowly and fell to her hands, lifting her ass and crawling on her hands and heels toward the bathroom, still jerking and spasming now and then beneath her ruined dress, and leaving a dripping trail behind her. (ELIZABETH: +1 SP)(+83 SP)

As she did, I looked over the new traits I’d unlocked on her.

New trait unlocked for Elizabeth Bishop!

“CUMS FROM MONEY”

ROUTE A - BIMBOFICATION or “MANNERS MAKE THE WHORE”: Whenever the subject is impolite or otherwise violates social convention in front of three or more people, for the next hour their arousal is increased and their Charm and Intelligence is decreased.

ROUTE B - ROLEPLAY or “DELICATE DEBUTANTE”: While wearing expensive clothing, the subject’s Might, Agility and Stamina are decreased, as well as their pain tolerance.

Nothing too groundbreaking there. The first one sounded difficult to control, although fun as hell to watch. The second was another one where it endangered her ability to do her job, although it was more circumstantial than the upgrade for Peggy’s Wartime Worker trait.

I scrolled to the next unlock without making a decision.

New trait unlocked for Elizabeth Bishop!

“ABUSIVE UPBRINGING”

ROUTE A - MASOCHISM or “ALWAYS INADEQUATE”: Whenever the subject is criticized, they will feel the need to apologize for their inadequacy with a sign of affection. The more humiliating the criticism, the more intense the apology.

ROUTE B - PERVERSION or “WELL GROOMED”: The subject will receive three times the pleasure from being sexually assaulted that they would from consensual sex and will not report any sexual **** inflicted on them, rationalizing such interactions as being their fault.

Well, those were a little unexpected. Again, the first one was guaranteed to make a scene and if I chose A for both I could very easily send Elizabeth into a spiral of whorish behavior, where the first route made her act reprehensible and then the second made her reward anyone who pointed it out with her body. It also would be negated by her Promiscuity Lock, should I choose to activate that.

Route B for the second choice was sicker than my standard fair and no doubt connected to the **** she’d endured in Central Park. I’d have to probe deeper, that moment seemed to have more significance in her sexual development than I had originally assumed.

Just as I was muddling over my choices, there came a loud pounding on the front door, followed by the angry voice of Bobbi Morse.

“HEY! CARTER! I know your car is in the garage, now open the damn door!”