Of Course Not...

Back at the lair, the high-tech fortress I call my second home, the walls hum with the energy of a place built for a superhero. It's all sleek metal and glass, the epitome of modern design, with more gadgets than a tech convention. My personal sanctuary is rigged with the best tech money can't buy—stolen right from under the noses of villains like Dr. Mind.

I try to decompress, flipping through the arsenal of weapons, but my mind's stuck on that damn ray and the nerdy guy with his sweater vest and scared-shitless eyes. I should be trying to figure out how to shake this feeling, but the truth is, I don't want to. There's something thrilling about this unexpected twist, even if it's not by my own choosing.

That's when Sienna, my fiery red-headed assistant and sometimes bed-warmer, saunters in. "You look like you've been zapped by more than just electricity, Kat," she observes, her voice laced with concern. Sienna's a stunner, with curves in all the right places, and legs that could strangle a man—if she wanted.

I grunt, feeling her soft hands on my skin as she tends to a cut on my arm. "Just another day at the office," I mutter, not meeting her gaze.

She's not buying it. "Bullshit. You've got that look… the one you get when something's eating at you. That fight with Dr. Mind mess with your head?"

I hesitate, the words catching in my throat. Telling her means admitting that I'm not entirely my own anymore, but the idea of denying Mark his 'possession' feels wrong—like I'd be betraying some sacred pact I didn't even sign up for. "It's nothing," I lie, my voice flat. "Just tired, is all."

Sienna narrows her eyes, not convinced, but she lets it go—for now. "Alright, but if that mad scientist scrambled your brains, we'll need to fix it. I'm not sharing my bed with some puppet."

I smirk, the irony not lost on me. Here she is, worried about mind control, while I'm sitting here, fully aware that my head's been fucked with, yet unwilling to do anything about it. Because somewhere out there is a dork named Mark, and my fucked-up brain has decided he's the one I belong to. And the craziest part? I'm okay with it.

Sienna's fingers linger with a touch more purpose than necessary, tracing the line of my collarbone. I lean into it for a moment, craving the familiar comfort of her touch, the heat that always seems to radiate from her skin. But as she leans in, aiming to close the distance between us with lips that promise nothing but sin, I find myself pulling back. The thought of Mark's unknown desires halts me, and I hate that it does.

"Kat, what's the matter?" Sienna's voice is laced with a mix of confusion and hurt as she steps back, her fiery eyes searching mine for answers.

"I—I can't," I stammer, the words foreign as they leave my lips. "It's just… not the right time."

She folds her arms, her gaze narrowing. "Since when do you back out of a good time? That's not the Kat I know."

I run a hand through my spiked hair, struggling to keep my composure. "Look, I'm fine, really. The fight just took it out of me more than I thought," I lie, my voice carrying an edge of frustration.

Concern flickers across Sienna's face, but she nods slowly, giving me space. "Alright, if you say so. But if you need to talk about whatever's going on in that head of yours, I'm here."

I manage a half-smirk, appreciating her presence even if I can't indulge in it right now. "Thanks, Sienna. But could you do something for me? There's this… hostage from today, Mark. Can you dig up some info on him? I want to make sure Dr. Mind hasn't got any lingering hooks in him."

Her brow quirks up, a silent question hanging in the air. "You think he's involved with Mind?"

Shit. I'm too quick to dispel that, nearly tripping over my own words. "No! No, just being thorough. Just a civilian caught in the crossfire."

She eyes me for a moment longer before nodding. "Alright, I'll see what I can find."

With that settled, I make my way upstairs to my private quarters, feeling the weight of my own duplicity. I need to figure out what the hell I'm going to do about Mark—and this bizarre allegiance my mind's sworn to him.

Holed up in my lair, the night drags on as I wrestle with the twisted web my mind's become. The sane part of me wants to break free, to tell Sienna to fix whatever Dr. Mind's ray fucked up inside my head. But the rest of me? It's fiercely against the idea, clinging to the new sense of purpose that's latched onto my psyche.

What does a guy like Mark even want from someone like me? He could be asexual for all I know, but I'm not naive. As a shapeshifter, I've seen the filthy fantasies plastered online—lewd drawings and stories about me bending over, tits bouncing, as some faceless fanboy fucks me from behind, or the requests for custom "fan service" where I morph into their favorite celebrity. It used to disgust me, knowing these pervs were jerking off to the thought of my abilities being used for their pleasure.

Now, I find myself chuckling at the irony—the only one who might get to live out that fantasy is Mark, that lucky son of a bitch. The realization shocks me to my core. I'm a lesbian; I've never given a second thought to some random guy's dick. But the thought that if Mark wants to fuck me, I'd spread my legs for him without question, sends a twisted thrill down my spine.

Opening the file Sienna sent over, I scan Mark's profile. Painfully normal, painfully nerdy. But it doesn't matter. His desires are now my priority. I note his address, determination setting in. He's about to find out he's the proud owner of a sexy super.

Transforming my appearance, I choose a form that's smoking hot—a body with curves for days, long, flowing hair, and a tight dress that leaves little to the imagination—yet still a far cry from my true self. Got to keep my identity safe, unless Mark says otherwise.

Stepping out into the night, I make my way to Mark's address, ready to deliver the news. He's about to discover just how lucky he is.