Chapter Twenty Six

Miss Miriad emerged from an alleyway into City Hall Square, staggering like a drunk on a week-long bender.

Well, one of her did. The rest were… busy.

Some of her had gotten wildly distracted on the way. Others were still making out with herself against brick walls, pawing desperately at herself in a doomed attempt to quench the volcanic horniness threatening to short-circuit her entire hive-brain.

Several had ducked into bars for “just one more,” as if **** would help. One of her had absolutely started something that was going to earn a furious voicemail from the PR department.

Dumb-dumb, dumb-dumb, dumb-dumb.

Why was she always like this? Always going off the rails and acting erratically at the worst times imaginable.

The athletic duplicator burped, tasting the regurgitated tequila in hundreds of throats. Oh no… tequila was bad. Tequila made her knuckles bleed.

Not the sharpest. Not the sharpest. Not the sharpest.

If she could just get off—just once—the fog might clear. A quick release to clear her muddled mind. A hot, clit-buzzing cummy to refresh the senses and regain a modicum of clarity.

“Hehehe… modicum.” Miriad hiccuped, grinning foolishly.

But no matter how expertly she touched, toyed, teased, and–in the case of two of her who’d bumbled into a public bathroom–licked herself, fulfillment hovered just out of reach, taunting her.

Christ, she was burning up…

Her bleary vision locked onto someone wreathed in fire.

Burning like that flaming foxgirl over there.

Huh.

Scrubbing her eyes with sweaty palms didn’t banish the perplexing vision; if anything, it made it worse.

Outside City Hall, dressed in a LoL-branded costume in the same red-and-gold as Miss Miraid’s own, blazed a cute beastkin pyromancer who fought alongside pornstar parodies of her teammates, a giant encapsulated in a very evil-looking mech suit, and… was that Dr Ruthless?

Except the silicone-stuffed impersonators weren’t cosplayers. They were using the actual powers of the Ladies of Liberty! Sally Putty stretched like taffy. Silver Streak zipped in silver contrails. And Kinetica (now flaunting volleyball-sized hooters) hung suspended ten feet off the ground, lazily flattening bots with invisible attacks.

“Whaaaa~?” Miriad whispered, jaw dangling, as the armored brute on the ground pointed at Colly with an accusatory digit.

“Kinetica, you’ve got some ’splaining to do!” He boomed. Then swung the finger toward Dr Ruthless. “You too. Down here. Now.”

Miriad waited for Kinetica to snap back. Or mock him. Or casually lob him over state lines.

The leader of the LoL, the sweetheart of New Avalon, her gorgeous Kinetica would never obey some pushy man. No matter how intriguingly large and glowy he seemed.

Glowy?

Rubbing her eyes again, Miriad did a double-take. The goliath emanated a sickly yellow light. He glowed. Like a glowstick, but contained to an inch-thick layer coating his armour.

It called to her. Pulled at her. Miriad like glowsticks. Glowsticks were shiny and fun…

Simple. Simple. Simple.

She tried sneaking closer and immediately tripped over a flaming tire. Shit!

“What’s the matter, Zay-Zay?” Kinetica descended with slow, cautious grace—talking to the big guy like he was a spooked horse. “I thought everything was going swimmingly. You performed admirably. Gave me the good kind of shivers.”

“I agree, darling,” Dr. Ruthless chimed in sweetly—far too sweetly for the scourge of New Avalon. “Mommy was positively aquiver watching her strong, handsome boy destroy those nasty, nasty robots.”

They landed beside him, plastering their inflated curves to his sides, stroking his chestplate, cooing and simpering and batting eyelashes like starstruck cheerleaders.

Miriad shook her head, grimacing in disgust as they tossed their lustrous manes and stared lovingly up at his helmet with big doe eyes.

Pandering to a man like fatuous floozies. How could they? Dr Ruthless, she could buy—villainesses had no shame. But Kinetica–her Kinetica?

Perfect, wonderful Kinetica?

She, of the sparkling golden hair, ultra-tight goddess physique, and proud, upright bearing. The media darling and principled poster-woman of gender equality.

No.

Never she, the resplendent, awe-inspiring, and utterly delicious Kinetica.

Something was wrong. ****. Mind control. Psychic tampering. Something big enough to twist her captain. Brain-blitzing baddies were hardly rare, but few could hold a candle to Kinetica’s psychic prowess.

Miss Miriad scuttled behind a hot-dog cart miraculously untouched by the robot revolt. The scent of boiling weiners hit her like a brick.

Her drooling doubled. Tripled. Swinging in sparkling strings from her copious chins.

Elsewhere, her tongue dredged her drenched folds, the sensation shared across countless sloppy cunts. Multitudinous hands groped multitudinous breasts, squeezing and fondling, as her innumerable tongues tangoed, tasting of hard liquor.

“Fuuuuck!” She moaned, edging to the ****. A hand sank between her clenching thighs, stroking the pronounced camel toe in her soaked briefs. “Kinetica… Oh, girl. Ahhhh! What am I gonna do about you?”

This was a reckless move, even for Miss Miriad, and she knew it, but couldn’t help herself. The battle had ended. Rescue workers would soon converge on the ruined square, along with reporters. If they caught a glimpse of a headlining heroine trimming herself silly during an emergency…

Stupid girl. Stupid girl. Stupid girl.

She didn’t care, even as her brain cells dissolved in a soup of hedonistic lust. The need to cum for the radiant blonde with tits like cannonballs was all-consuming. She could practically smell her. That odd musky perfume wafted on the breeze along with smoke and sausage stank.

“Like, hiiiiiii~ Miranda! Whatcha doing hiding back here?” Sally Putty’s head appeared over the cart at the end of a serpentine neck. She was chewing a mouthful of hot dog. “You hungry too?”

“Get lost, I’m busy.” She hissed at the elasticated girl.

So close. Soooo damn close!

“Yeah, you are.” Sally giggled, showering bread crumbs, then winked. Miriad managed not to slap the sleazy smirk off her face. “And I know exactly what you’re craving. Cool your jets, sister. I gotcha covered.”

“No, don’t–!”

Too late, Miriad failed to grab the green-haired super. Unable to warn her of the suspected danger before she swung out of reach.

“Hey, boss lady. Guess who decided to crash the party? Give you a clue. She’s, like, totally trouble with a capital T.”

Kenetica’s head snapped in their direction, her amethyst eyes illuminated from within.

Was that new?

Either way, Miss Miriad whined when they locked onto her. Her secret crush on the precipice of uncovering her shameful condition. Somehow, that only made it hotter.

“Miranda? Oh dear. Please excuse me for a minute, sugar.” Sweet, magnanimous Kinestica told the ironclad goon before floating over.

The bastard swatted her tooshie as she went. Misogynist pig!

Kinetica squealed happily and blew him a kiss, then turned that bright pink stare back on Miriad, full ****. All the playfulness fled her, leaving a serious expression.

“My, my. Aren’t you a sight?” She tutted, shaking her pretty head in disappointment. “I try dealing with you, Miranda. I try, and I try, and I try, but there’s no getting through to that thick skull. The partying. The scandals. The fighting and public nudity. When will you learn?”

Miriad quaked beneath the maternal scolding, wallowing in a confusing combination of shame and exhilaration. Sprawled out on the pavement, dripping saliva and frantically fingering herself. She probably looked like a dumb slut…

Dumb-dumb slut. Dumb-dumb slut. Dumb-dumb slut.

A small orgasm rocked her center like a revelation. She, Miss Miriad, was just a dumb slut. A little squirt bathed her desperately delving digits—the prurient preamble of more to come under Kinetica’s luminous, judgmental glare.

“I-I sorry… ca-can do b-better.” She jittered, her spine arching in a blissful bow. “D-don’t give up on m-me…”

“We’re fresh out of second chances and free passes.” Kinetica plucked an imaginary piece of lint from her cavernous cleavage, inspecting it disdainfully before flicking it away. “Honestly, I’m at a loss on how to proceed at this point.”

Damn, but those jumbo cans were mouth-watering. White droplets beaded on the razor-thin spandex around her puckered nipples, giving the overtaxed fabric a wet sheen. Spit sluiced from Miriad’s lolling lips, slurring her speech.

“P-pwease…” she burbled, hips jerking helplessly toward the scornful blonde goddess. Another mind-bending micro-climax shivered through her overstimulated nerves, making her toes curl in five dozen bodies at once. “Hyaa! Pweeeeeease~!”

Kinetica drifted closer, a vision of golden authority, her stern expression softening just enough to make the shame hit harder.

“I understand, dear. Truly, I do.” Her voice was velvet-wrapped steel. “Fame and fortune tempt even the noblest souls. And you? You just wanted to be seen. To be adored.” She stroked Miriad’s damp brow with tender sympathy—then harshly pinched her cheek.

Miriad whimpered, savoring the sting.

“I want to help you be better,” Kinetica crooned. “A hero New Avalon can look up to. But your fate…?” She sighed dramatically and prodded Miriad’s cheek again. “It’s not mine to decide anymore. I’ve happily handed that duty to the greatest, most extraordinary person alive.” She clasped her hands dreamily. “A man who’ll change everything. The smartest, most passionate, most hunky Zay-Zay.”

Who?

The question barely formed before the answer arrived like a tectonic event.

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