A new hostage dynamic

My world span. Everything was tortuously cold, and I could feel myself quickly losing consciousness. This was it huh? I was gonna freeze to **** right here, like every other background character in this world.

It's funny. Ever since childhood, my dream has been to start my own private detective company; I wanted to be known as the greatest crime fighter in the world.

Some dream that was. My name never even stood a chance of growing as big as those of the actual heroes, doing actual crime-fighting. Hell, my name never even grew as big as that of the crazy chick killing me right now.

Fuck! If I survive this, then... Then I swear I'll start fighting crime for real! Be the world's greatest detective for real! Just like Batman! And I will hang out with Wonder Babes! At least once. Just once.

Get it together! How does the world's greatest detective get out of this one?

I looked down at my wrist, and at the yellow fog dancing around inside it. Using that would be the obvious solution, but it's not strong enough yet! I haven't made enough deductions.

Looking around frantically, my senses worked overtime to pick up every minuscule detail of the room and the people within it. Bank, crazy lady, ice wall, crazy lady smile, potted plant, burning ice finger, crazy lady!

Calm down!

I need to think straight. What do I know about Killer Frost? She's a villain with ice powers. She wears a blue t-shirt and blue make-up. That would mean... that her favorite color is probably blue.

I could feel the orb stir slightly to my statement but otherwise stay the same. Figures. Something that obvious isn't gonna cut it.

"Hurry up Ice Queen. I'm ready to get out of here," Plastique shouted from inside the truck. To my horror, Frost gave me an apologetic shrug of the shoulders, and suddenly, I felt her hand's sensuous movements across my chest speed up.

Fuck, oh God, OK calm down, focus! She... She... She's gonna kill me and scram, obvious. She robbed a bank. Why? Money, duh. The bitches don't like each other. The feeling's mutual. The money is stored in the back of the truck, useless! Wait...

My thoughts moved at a mile a minute, and even faster still when a light-bulb suddenly lit up my brain.

"Finders keepers."

That's what Plastique said earlier. Frost never grabbed any money, yet she obviously wanted it if she bothered robbing a bank. Plastique had the engine running, and following what she said earlier, they really were running out of time. That meant Frost was running to the car as soon as she kills me. But then... She would have done all this for nothing, right? Unless... she plans to turn on Plastique and take her money!

I didn't even have to lift my numb hand to the level of my eyes to know. It filled with smoke. A lot of smoke. It turned a brighter and brighter yellow, before its color shifted to a strong orange, and ending a bloody red. My deduction was correct. I'd hit the bullseye.

Now I just had to use that smoke to stop Crazy Bitch from killing me. And seeing as this might be my last chance ever at living out my dream... I figured, why not try for a Wonder Babe before I go out?

"W-w-w-wait! Y-y-y-y-you f-f-flir-r-r-rted-d-d with me r-r-right? Y-y-you t-took time out of y-your rob-b-b-b-bbery to flirt with m-m-m-me even t-t-though y-y-you d-d-didn't have t-t-too. T-that m-m-must m-m-mean you m-m-m-must b-b-b-be in heat f-for m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-my DICK!" I shouted out with all my strength, which didn't result in much between my chattering teeth and frozen lips. Let's just hope it did the trick.

My power is very specific. It is the power of deduction; to charge it, I need to make good deductions. Likewise, all of its uses involve manipulating deductions.

Take the deduction I just made: It is a bad one, with many leaps in logic. That is, it was — until I used my ability: "Fallacy" on Frost to have her think my deduction was spot on.

The orb lit up briefly following my words. Time to pray.

"I already knew you talked mad shit, Hot-Stuff, but damn, you're on another level." Frost's ice imprinting finger hit the periphery of my most vital organ, and amazingly, stopped just before turning it to organic dessert. Her finger diddled a while, outlining a cartoon heart atop my skin, before changing direction towards my tummy. "Not that I hate that in a man, mind you. Actually..." Her voice became softer as she moved her painted mouth close to my ear. To my relief, I could feel the heat slowly return to my body. Her finger continued past my belly, the ice in its wake shrinking to nothing as it snaked down towards my pants. Breathing noticeably louder, she whispered, "I find men who know what they want really fucking... cool."

I gasped as her hand entered the confines of my pants, her regularly tempered body like a torch to my chilled crotch. That had worked even better than I thought it would.

Everything happened so fast, and before I was able to exploit the opportunity I'd created for myself, I felt the firm grip that had previously pinned me down now wrapped around my exposed dick.

Of course, given the situation, and the fact that she almost just turned me into an ice cube, I'd have to be a total nut-job to get aroused by this bitch's efforts.

"Trouble getting it on are we, Hot-Stuff? No worries, I can already tell you're packing some heat down there. Although, I'm really not in the mood for waiting my turn right now. Say... If I were to tell you, I wanted you to fuck me right here on the floor—" Still stroking my dick, Killer Frost rotated her body, revealing to me the — as I had suspected — abundance of plump ass-flesh she somehow held contained within tightly stretched black leather. Even tighter still when she jutted out her hips, treating my widespread eyes to a near bursting display of the newest in fashion. Looking over her shoulder she continued, "Would you feel more motivated if you let you choose the hole?"

Oh ho ho, sheee is not a Christian woman. Sheee is a very baaad woman. Wait...What was I saying? Oh right. That bitch's ass is tasting just how big of a nut-job I can be.

My dick was pulsing. It's amazing how quickly your blood heats when given the correct kindling. Caught up in the situation, I leant my crotch against Frost's bongos. Ignoring the smirk she wore from winning me over, I began peeling down her pants to enjoy the view.

And what a view it was. Like snow-coated mountain peaks slowly appearing over the horizon, her spotless skin revealed itself. Where the fabric ended, her cheeks visibly swelled out and over, unrestrained by its leather cage. All that was left standing was a cairn to top it off — a blue lycra thong.

Yeah, I'm hitting that.

Taking a moment to let everything sink in, I simply reveled in how unbelievably good this all turned out. From zero to hero, just like that, huh. I grabbed Frost's thong and wedged it up between her wonder babe buttocks. Delightedly, it stretched like gum. Frost threw me a displeased glare from over her shoulder, but couldn't really do anything to stop me seeing as she was now holding her weight with both arms on the floor. Sucks to be her! I don't even get what her problem was; I can guarantee she's anything but a delicate flower. My guess would be she either dislikes being the sub, or she's just impatient to a tee, both of which I could give less of a shit about.

Taking my time, I lent back and enjoyed the ambiance: The feeling of soft texture in my hand, knowing it was digging into a bitchy villain's privates. The sight of hot ass cheeks in front of me, the intensity stemming from having my dick placed between those cheeks. The feeling of large, melon-like breasts pressing against my back, hands traveling down my sides to tenderly envelop my tool; their dainty touch contrasted by a stinging pinch on my ballsack which — although unpleasant — didn't keep my hard-on from growing more eager by the minute. Bliss.

"Plastique, what the fuck are you doing?" asked Ice-Bitch from her titillating position bellow me. Wait...

"No. No, no, no, no. Nooo. You don't get to say that. You don't get to say shit like that. Not before you explained what the actual fuck you are doing!"

It suddenly struck me that there were two bitch-villains present at the scene, and that one of them was standing directly behind me. Also, I now felt very stupid.

"What do you think I'm doing? Whatever the fuck I want, that's what! Although It obviously works for you, not everyone is satisfied with plastic dicks up their cunts every night, Plastique. I'm in the mood for the real thing, so go jill off in the van while me and Hot-Stuff here play some grown-up games.

A vein visibly strained against Platique's forehead, and her grip around my dick hardened. Worse things have happened to me. "Hooo, OK. I was supposed to bring you back to HQ, but if you're this intent on whoring yourself out, by all means, let the both of you get blown up. It would make me a hell of a lot happier," she seethed as she stormed back to the van.

Wait...

"What do you suppose she meant by 'let the both of you get blown up'? Aargh!" My question was cut off by the realization that the pinching of my ballsack still remained even after all hands where absent. Looking down past Big Willy, I discovered why. What I had assumed to be the plucking of playful nails, turned out to be a small, grey box fastened to my sack. A small red dot near its center blinked periodically

"What the hell, you terrorist bitch! I was using that!" screamed Frost after pushing her face off the floor and turning to look at me, before moving her eyes to Plastique's defiant ass in anger.

"H-hey, don't worry, babe. I'm still ready for you. There's no need for the 'was' in that sente—" I again interrupted myself, this time to allow my ears to pick up on a faint, ominous sound. It came from below me; from the box at my crotch. Yes, very faintly I could swear I heard a noise. Slowly first, but then faster and faster.

Beep... Beep... beep, beep, beep beep beep beep.