Black Canary prepares for a morning show.

If Brandon had to pick one problem with traveling via teleportation, it would be the nausea. But if he had to pick a second problem, it would be not knowing where he would end up until he had landed. When he stalked superheroes throughout Gotham or on the Watchtower, he could use his eyes and ears to assess a situation before he joined it. If he spotted something that might blow his cover, like a pizza delivery guy in an apartment hallway or a security camera, he could wait a moment and continue when the coast was clear. With teleportation, not so much. He only saw weird glowing circles, then down was up and up was left and left was something he didn’t have a word for, then he was fully committed to his new location. If that location had a man, whoops! Game over.

Tailing Black Canary for her appearance on Good Morning, Central City! was a calculated risk. Yes, there could have been a male producer backstage who would take issue with the sudden debut of her newest sidekick, Invisible **** Janitor. It was a perfectly valid fear, one that had deterred him from several other public appearances. But today was special. According to the schedule, GMCC was having one of its special female-led episodes, where everybody in the studio—from the cast to the audience—was a woman, including “a special guest appearance by one of our greatest female superheros”. Unless this was all just marketing lies, nobody would be around who could catch him. Brandon’s entire plan hinged on the honesty of a local morning show, and it made the difference between another flawless display of public debauchery and being body-checked into nothingness by an absurd amount of burly security goons.

To his great pleasure, he exited the teleportation tunnel to a room with no men in sight. It didn’t hurt that he also bumped crotch-first into Black Canary’s plush backside, but most importantly nobody had seen him do it. Plenty of potential witnesses existed, and had he been amulet-free, a couple dozen women would have had some very strong opinions about him. As it was, they all shared a moment of confusion, then casually went about the intensive process of preparing for a superhero’s appearance on a show with national syndication opportunities.

“Miss Canary?” A twenty-something woman with a clipboard and a messy bun brushed herself off and extended her hand. “Thank you for coming today.”

“My pleasure,” Black Canary accepted a perfunctory handshake. “Always happy to visit our sister city for a reason other than a full-scale alien invasion.”

“Haha, yeah.” The woman fingered her pen for a moment too long. “Um, anyway, we’re already on air, so we’ll be ready for your interview, which is…oh God, ten minutes. Okay, quick, dressing room this way.”

Black Canary took off her jacket and tossed it over her shoulder. “I don’t think I need a dressing room.”

“You’re the surprise guest. The audience can’t see you yet.” The woman—a producer, Brandon guessed—unbuttoned her blouse. “We don’t want anybody outside the crew to see anything until the big reveal.”

“Alright. Lead the way.” She tugged the zipper down the back of her body suit, trying to disrobe while Brandon trailed behind. The process of walking made it difficult to strip fully, and by the time she reached the dressing room she was merely topless, with her bodysuit rolled down to her waist and her strapless bra in Brandon’s hand. Funny, he’d always assumed she was braless underneath her outfit. Wonder Woman had been. Maybe it was an Amazon thing. The producer ushered her in and tried to run off, leaving Brandon barely enough time to hurriedly re-button the woman’s shirt and pants. He liked the view, but he couldn’t have a half-naked woman racing around the studio without him and the amulet to ward off any dismay. Alas, he had to let her go, fully clothed, and focus himself only on one woman lusted after by men the world over. Truly his was a morbid lot.

…he had to stop watching Shakespeare on Gotham Public Television.

Stuck in a room with an amulet and only a television with a camera feed of the morning show for company, Black Canary wasted little time shimmying out of her bodysuit and boots. She bent at the waist, regarding the few magazines on the coffee table while she tucked her thumbs into her fishnet stockings and wriggled them down her toned legs along with her panties. While she swung her shapely hips at nothing in particular, Brandon shed his own clothes and stroked himself to his fullest, hardest state. Watching her grind her thighs together reminded him of their first encounter, in the showers of the Watchtower’s gym, where she gave him the shuddering experience that (probably) almost killed him, courtesy of her superpowered voice. With her taut butt ripe and defenseless within his reach, he couldn’t help but try for a little payback. Before he took his rightful place deep inside her, he extended his arm and delivered a loud, sharp slap across her cheeks.

Her hair flew in a cascade of blonde as her head snapped back, but the erotic gasp she gave him was anything but angry. He chuckled, groping her ass while she leaned into his grip. He hadn’t figured her for a masochist, and maybe she wasn’t. Maybe it was just the amulet doing its thing, transforming every woman in sight into a perfect plaything for his darkest fantasies. Brandon preferred the former. In his mind, Black Canary loved being spanked, magical jewelry or not, and he would have loved to give her everything she deserved for involuntarily using her Canary Cry on his cock.

But he was on a schedule, and that schedule meant she had to be inseminated before she was called out to the studio.