Chapter Twenty-Three

The LoL kitchen was a stainless-steel paradise for people who meal-prepped, which Miranda absolutely did not. She beelined for the vending machine, slapped the “CROCKAID” button—

OUT OF ORDER.

“Traitor.” She muttered at the machine.

Fine. The fridge, then. She opened it. Light spilled out dramatically as if from the gates of heaven. And there, sitting alone on the top shelf, was a glass decanter of milk.

It looked wonderfully inviting. Fresh and frosted with condensation in a perfect shade of white that made toothpaste commercials jealous.

Miranda stared at it, choirs of angels singing in her ears.

“Holy shit.”

She grabbed the decanter and opened it. A fragrant puff hit her nose. Refreshing cool. Sweet. Creamy in a way that instantly made her nipples tighten through her sports bra.

Was it weird to be turned on by milk? She’d done weirder things this week.

Shrugging, she drank.

One sip. Then two. Then she chugged the entire thing in ****, indecent gulps, throat working like she’d been stranded in a desert for weeks.

“Oh my god.” Miranda gasped, wiping her mouth. “What was that?!”

The milk spread through her like liquid sunlight, erasing her headache and settling her queasy stomach. The hangover vanished faster than Ivana Invisible after their ill-fated one-night stand.

Instead, she felt…

Warm. Floaty. A little giggly? Her skin tingled, and her lips hung slightly open. Why did her brain feel like it was wrapped in a fuzzy pink comforter?

Tottering back toward the central command nexus, she hummed an off-key pop song, hips swaying with unusual looseness. The corridor spun pleasantly. She smiled, pleasantly buzzed, but without the threat of vomiting in a potted ficus.

She ambled into the heart of the LoL Headquarters. The place smelled extra funky, and she nearly skated across a glossy puddle beside the Freedomobile. The spilled gunk splashed up her knee-high boots, viscous streaks sliding down the crimson leather.

“Fuck!”

Were the janitor bots on the fritz again?

Resolving not to think about calling IT, Miranda slumped into her throne, one of four situated on a raised platform in the center of the vast room. The cushions sighed around her, shockingly soft, molding to her body. She blinked at the flashing button on the armrest until her brain arranged the concept of “pressing it” into something achievable. Her finger drifted down and tapped it.

A loud chime made her wince a beat later. The stadium-sized main screen shifted from New Avalon’s tactical map to Kinetica’s beaming face, blown up to mural proportions. The blonde’s smile radiated cheerleader confidence, but it was her irises—glowing, hypnotic pink—that made Miranda’s breath hitch. Those hadn’t been like that before, which was… extremely interesting.

“Hello, teammate! I hope this recorded message finds you safe and sound,” Kinetica said brightly. Her voice was warm honey, slow and thick. Miranda’s shoulders slumped. Was it hot in here? “We’ve made an incredible discovery: a free, unaffiliated enhancer. Can you believe it? He’s amazing! So we’ve diverted most of our resources into securing this invaluable asset.”

An enhancer?

Miss Miriad’s fuzzy thoughts sloshed around her skull. She should have perked up—should’ve been leaping out of the chair, demanding details, cracking her knuckles in excitement. Instead, her body melted deeper into the cushions. The seat felt like a cloud engineered for ultimate relaxation. Those giant amethyst orbs on the screen pulled her in, inviting and friendly and… commanding. Her mind drifted, wide-open and unguarded.

“I know you would wish to join us in this important endeavor.” Kinetica purred. A toss of golden hair shimmered unnaturally. She looked gorgeous. Too gorgeous. Miranda had long harboured a secret crush. “But I’m entrusting you with holding down the fort and protecting the city. You may not be the sharpest tool in the shed—but your powers make you uniquely suited to reacting to multiple threats.”

The words sank into Miranda’s mind like stones dropped into a placid lake.

Huh?

Not the sharpest tool in the shed… not the sharpest… not the sharpest…

What did she mean by that? The words seemed to echo in Miranda’s addled mind. She blinked slowly, unable to tell whether she should feel offended, flattered, or obediently grateful that Kinetica had taken the trouble to explain it at all.

Her heartbeat fluttered. Something heavy wrapped itself around her thoughts, tugging them into a simpler shape. The befuddling scent seemed stuck to Miranda, musky and distracting, and she found herself staring at the muck on her boots.

Was that–?

“Anyhow, because it’s you, I’ll keep it simple.” Kinetica sighed, as though already tired of the conversation. “The satellite monitoring system is active and will warn you…”

She kept talking, but Miranda was busy reeling from the verbal slap.

Keep it simple, because it was her?

She should have been outraged. Nobody spoke to Miss Miriad in that way and walked away without a busted noggin! Except her noggin was stuffed with pink cotton candy, and the words kept jumbling around in there.

Keep it simple… not the sharpest… because it’s you… simple…

That shining amethyst gaze kept her glued to the seat–the exceeding soft, comfortable set, and the room felt stifling hot. That smell… and something about her boots?

Kinetica; stunningly beautiful and brilliantly blonde, Kinetica was speaking, but it was difficult to listen over the growing ache in her nethers. Miranda desperately wanted to touch herself, strum one out, but her limbs were jelly.

So she concentrated her power through the fog and confusion–it was like wrestling a slimy frog–and another Miranda zapped into existence.

Dressed identically to the original, this duplicate needed no orders. The new Miranda wavered on her feet, looking gassed out of her fucking mind, before dropping to her knees. She yanked aside her progenitor’s increasingly damp briefs and plunged her face between those power thighs.

“Ohhhh, yeah… that’s the spot.” The real Miranda moaned as she licked and twirled her tongue across her clit.

The head shrinkers labelled her as an autosexual, but she didn’t consider this any different from normy masturbation. Her doubles were her. They shared a single mind. She was technically a hive mind when in this state. But none of that mattered in the steamy heat of the moment.

Kinetica’s recording continued playing, her eyes flaring bright pink, her saccharine words pouring in through two sets of ears now.

“Remain on guard until we return. Please, don’t be that dumb-dumb who charges blindly into danger. We’re better than that.”

Don’t be that dumb-dumb… that dumb-bumb… dumb-dumb…

“Not a dumb-dumb.” Miranda slurred through two pairs of lips, one of which was smooshed against her drooling pussy.

The vibrations reverberated in her thrumming middle, and she ground harder onto her lapping mouth. Finding the strength to grab her chestnut hair and weakly buck her hips.

She was close, so damn close, and the sight of Kinetica’s resplendent face provided ample impetus. Her kissable red lips. Her cute button nose. Those sparkling gemstone eyes that bored straight to the soul…

Not sharp… keep you simple… be that dumb-dumb…

The words looped and ricocheted about in her skull, seeping into her mind, deadening brain cells. Thoughts came slower and slower, bogged down in a humid swamp of lust.

“Almost… haaaa~! Almost there.” She panted, dragging her tongue up her center in the way she liked best, lashing it across her engorged bud. “A little more. Just a little bit more…”

In a truly heroic feat of mental acuity, Miranda summoned two more doubles. They appeared further away than she’d intended, wobbling unsteadily with stupid expressions on their slack faces.

Jesus, they looked like a couple of brain-dead morons!

Eyes blank, jaws dangling, saliva spilled in droopy strings from their chins. Luckily, it didn’t take a genius to eat pussy. She started to walk them–walk herself–over to the first duplicate to get a chain running.

This was her ultimate technique; the one-woman circle jerk—the muff-muncher centipede. A snake eating out its own tail.

Yep, the clit-licking conga line never failed. Though she usually included several other participants on her wilder nights. She didn’t need them now.

Keep simple… not sharp… dumb-dumb…

Miranda’s focus flickered, and the duplicant who’d materialized next to the Freedomobile slipped in the same puddle she had, tumbling ass over tea kettle to land face-first in the sludge.

All four of her mouths were assaulted by an unfamiliar earthy flavour. All four of her nostrils were struck point-blank by that musky, blood-boiling odour. Whatever brakes had been holding the muscular multiplier back instantly released, and she came like a runaway train.

“YAAAAAAAAAAH~!!”

Thoughts fizzled and collided, popping like soap bubbles, as every Miranda collapsed, howling in gratuitous gratification. They writhed and flopped on the floor, one splashing about, as she spasmed on her throne. She could feel it soaking into four sets of skin, their shared senses multiplying the sensation, heightening her awareness as four monumental climaxes stampeded through her core like a crash of pissed-off rhinos.

“You’re going to love Zane. I just know it.” The recording continued, Kinetica’s voice coming from far, far away. “Simply refrain from saying anything stupid. Hmm, actually, don’t talk too much at first.”

Stupid… Don’t talk… Not sharp…

Simple dumb-dumb…

Moaning and twitching in blissful aftershock, Miranda lay limp, drool spilling from loose lips. She also wallowed in that pool of mysterious, orgasmic ambrosia, scooping great handfuls into her greedy gob. The flavor was strange, yet definitely more-ish. It danced over four sets of taste buds. Utterly intoxicating. Somehow electrifying.

“Simple dumb-dumb.” She slurred, stirring enough to begin licking herself again as she also crawled over to tongue bathe her boots. “Not sharpest, stupid.”

For the first time in a long while, Miss Miriad, the one-woman army, felt weak. Defeated. Too drained to think.

Thinking was hard. Funny word that; ‘hard.’ It had so many different meanings. Better not to worry her stupid, dumb-dumb head about the details; leave that to others.

Like, Kinetica. Pretty, pretty Kinetica with her bright golden hair and even brighter pink eyes.

Already, Miranda’s brain was relaxing. Troubles melted away as she chased her next big O. That odd smell and the earthy taste helped. She was slathered in both. Only one thought remained, circling the drain in her deeply plumbed mind.

Who was this Zane, and why would she love him?

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