Supergirl

Michael felt no rush. Time was now merely a suggestion, and space, a carpet he could fold at will. As he watched Selina catch her breath amidst the wreckage of her own pride, he felt a prickle of boredom.

With a single thought, he tore through reality, leaving Gotham’s darkness behind and re-emerging into the crystal-clear blue sky of Themyscira. The Amazons remained in a trance-like state, their bodies scattered across the white sand like offerings to a new god. But Michael didn't just want the warriors' devotion; he wanted supremacy.

Hovering above the island, he expanded his senses. He searched for that specific energy signature—that solar warmth defining the Kryptonian lineage. He found it. Kara Zor-El—Supergirl—was visiting the island at Diana’s request. She stood atop a cliff, gazing at the horizon with that expression of goodness and purity that Michael found irritatingly tedious.

He materialized behind her.

Kara had no time to react with super-speed; Michael had already altered the local laws of physics: *Within this ten-meter radius, Kara moves at a snail's pace.*

She spun around, confused, feeling her body suddenly heavy and sluggish. "Who are you? How did you get here?"

Michael smiled. He needed no introduction. He walked toward her, sensing the aura of power radiating from the girl. It was almost palpable, like a magnetic field.

"You’re beautiful, Kara. So full of hope, so... sure of yourself," he said, running his hand through her blonde hair. "It’s almost a sin."

Kara tried to push him away, but her reflexes were sluggish. She felt Michael’s hand slide down her shoulder, and the moment he touched her skin, Michael wrote the definitive rule for that encounter: *Kara Zor-El’s will is replaced by Michael’s will. Her body now craves submission above all else.*

The effect was devastating. Supergirl—the woman capable of moving mountains—felt her legs go weak. The purity of her thoughts was replaced by a vivid, obscene image of herself kneeling. The heat in her chest was no longer the radiation of the yellow sun, but a liquid fire cascading down her spine, pooling deep within her.

"What... what did you do to me?" she asked, though her voice held no panic—only a pleading whisper.

"I gave you the freedom not to be the savior of the world, Kara. Just *mine*."

Michael grabbed her by the collar of her blue suit and slammed her against the cliff face. With a swift gesture, he made Supergirl’s suit evaporate, turning the fabric into stardust. Kara was left exposed to the sun, her flawless skin glowing, her nipples hardened by the wind and sudden desire.

He overpowered her with strength that rivaled her own. Michael lifted her into the air, holding her suspended by sheer force of will, while his hands explored every curve of her Kryptonian body. He discovered that, even under the rule of submission, her body reacted with incredible intensity; her spasms were like small earthquakes shaking the cliffside.

"You’re so strong, Kara... imagine the pleasure we could create if you stopped fighting me," Michael whispered, penetrating her with divine violence.

Kara’s cry was not one of pain, but of visceral release. Kryptonian strength met Michael’s omnipotence, and the result was an explosion of sensation that made the earth tremble beneath their feet. Kara wrapped her legs around him, squeezing with the force of a thousand tons, trying to fuse their bodies into a single organism of pleasure.

She was no longer the heroine; she was a slave to ecstasy. Michael possessed her with a relentless rhythm, turning Supergirl into an instrument of his own lust. Every thrust was a reminder that, no matter how powerful she was, he was the one in command.

"Look at me, Kara," he commanded.

She opened her eyes, clouded and utterly surrendered.

"Now, tell me who you serve."

"I... I serve you, Master Michael," she moaned, tears of pleasure streaming down her face as her body entered an endless cycle of orgasms that Michael had programmed for her.

He released her, letting her fall to the sand—exhausted, her will completely broken. Michael glanced at the Amazons watching the scene, then back at Supergirl, who was now crawling toward him, kissing his feet with animal-like devotion.

He smiled. The "scientist's" experiment was only just beginning, and the universe was his private playground.