In the Watchtower gym with Supergirl and Stargirl.

His mind reeled with possibility and a mental map of the station’s facilities. Should he see who was sleeping in their League-appointed bedrooms so they could wake up hot and sticky? Should he stop by security for the wonderful irony of **** the woman who was specifically assigned to prevent men from coming in? Should he find a communications room and listen in until he heard somebody he liked? He wondered which women were even on the station, and whether some might never cross paths with him just because of time zone differences. As he contemplated ways to expand his reach across most of the League, he heard something that answered his immediate concern: the sounds of women gasping with exertion.

He followed the grunts to a small gymnasium area, less of a basketball court and more of a dojo. There he found the women who would be his first victims (well, his first victims of the new job, technically). At first he thought there was some shapeshifter at work, or a holographic training exercise, or a pair of twins he didn’t know about, something to explain why two nearly-identical women flew around the room, occasionally clashing in bursts of blue and blonde. In the rare moments they stood still, he could see the differences, and he couldn’t have picked a better pair to start with.

One was Supergirl, the Kyrptonian sidekick of the Justice League’s more-or-less leader. Like her more popular mentor she disregarded masks, and unlike him she also disregarded pants. Her red miniskirt clung to her hips and thighs as she swung here and there in the air, followed by a trail of golden hair and red half-cape. However he peered, he never caught a glimpse of the panties or shorts underneath, a testament to how much she had trained to avoid flashing opponents and bystanders. It didn’t bother him, really. Brandon had an image of the naked superhero burned into his brain and his hard drive, though there was something nice about seeing her in private.

The other was Stargirl, a hero he hadn’t yet had the pleasure of seeing naked. Though her athletic shorts were more practical than her sparring partner’s bottoms, they were just as tight as her top, a star-spangled second skin leaving nothing to the imagination. Her body had developed a bit more than Supergirl’s as well, with more rounded hips and a bigger bust. If only she’d taken a note from the villains and used a star-shaped cleavage cutout instead of a simple white decal, he was sure she’d have far more online fans hoping for her nudes. Why didn’t the heroines ever think of their males fans when they picked their costumes? At least both girls kept their tight midriffs bare to give him something to think about. He couldn’t wait to be the reason they started to swell.

A pang of anxiety stabbed him in the stomach. What if the amulet didn’t work? He could, possibly, have explained bungling into an interrogation room in Gotham and gotten away with only a few stern looks. Or he could have pretended he was a burglar in Officer Montoya’s apartment, where he might have gotten some ribs broken and a little jail time. It was nothing compared to what he’d get if he was found sneaking around in the females-only half of a space station, especially if somebody put two and two together and figured out who had put him up to it. On the verge of a minor panic attack, he almost forgot to watch the fight, and what brought his attention back was Supergirl dropping her miniskirt.

His eyes bulged at her bright red panties, then at the crack of her slender ass poking from the top of them. She floated in midair with one knee up, stretching the fabric taut, and folded her arms. “I thought this was supposed to be a workout.”

“Some of us are just boring humans,” Stargirl panted, slightly muffled by the top she struggled to pull over her head. A combination shirt and mask, it left her exposed from the waist up save for a dark blue sports bra pushing her tits into an impressive amount of cleavage. “Twenty minutes is a long time for mere mortals.”

Supergirl tugged off her own shirt and began fiddling with a yellowish bra, surprisingly light and cute given the activities she regularly performed in it. “If you can’t go at least half an hour, how do you expect to keep up with Batwoman?”

“I am convinced Batwoman has powers. They’re just not obvious. Some sort of withering glare or something, I dunno.” Stargirl fell to her back and lifted her hips to start forcing her shorts and panties down her legs. She humped her fingers while they were in a convenient location, licking her lips as she propped herself up on her shoulders and tiptoes. “Dang, I’m—mmm—I’m even more tired than I thought.”

Supergirl’s panties joined the rest of her clothes, and only cherry-red boots remained to protect her. “Take a breather, then. I’m sure all those supervillains will gladly let you lie there for a while.”

“Fine, point taken.” She pulled up her bra, letting her round breasts jiggle and bounce while she tugged it over her head. Her boots also stayed on, along with her belt, but her gloves were an unfortunate casualty of removing her top. Without her mask or uniform she barely looked like her superhero persona at all except for the hourglass shape and the golden staff she planted on the ground between her feet. “I’ll give you everything I got.”

“And I’ll be happy to take it.” Supergirl balled up one fist, but the other hand remained at her thighs, where it could rub her toward the orgasm she didn’t know she had coming. She still floated in midair, but now her legs were spread and her knees high, in exactly the pose Brandon had studied in her involuntary porn video. Stargirl took two steps toward her, not to close for a punch but to touch her pussy to her staff. Heedless of the sparring partner masturbating a few yards away, she rolled her hips, grinding her clit into the cold metal.

Their erotic grunts fueled Brandon’s need, and his fear of getting caught sat down and let his libido take over. He shed his custodian’s uniform and hid it in a corner of the room, somewhere he hoped nobody would stumble on it. Like the women, he wore almost nothing when he properly entered the gym, just the amulet and a lecherous grin. Unlike them, he knew what he was doing.