Petit creamy casting part 2 (M/F sex)

There is something incredibly unselfconscious about the way the small, pale heroine rolls her tongue around the underside of the director's throbbing glans and lavishes glistening saliva over every inch of the length. It isn't just you watching, but an entire room full of low lives and, you realize, very soon to be hundreds of thousands of low lives on account of everything being captured by that camera.

An incredibly lewd slurping noise fills the room as she starts to bob back and forth on the thick shaft. You can see her throat starting to visibly bulge out as she goes so deep that her nose is bumping up against his crotch, and she stays there for so long that she takes a **** gasp of air like someone who's come up from a high dive after pulling back off of it.

Back home, you recall having spent a lot of the last few months very unsettled over the prospect that your boyfriend might at some point let it slip that you and he had "gone all the way" after he begged for it on his 18th birthday despite the fact that you weren't married or even engaged. That would get you all kinds of mortifying attention in the gossip rags, wouldn't it?

But considering that one of the best regarded superheroines in the League is doing something so dirty you wouldn't even know how to do it yourself even if you were willing, in front of not only yourself but an entire room and a video camera, you realize with chagrin that a hearsay account of your non-costumed, missionary-position-in-the-dark lovemaking with your high-school sweetheart probably isn't as juicy to the yellow journalists of this city as you'd thought. It's a bit more clear why your daddy was so dead-set against you accepting coming to Acropolis for the Millennium Challenge: he probably had more than just your physical safety in mind.

Though you are still watching for any signs of supervillainy, Petite Mort's personality seems to be quite intact. As she slowly pumps the slick cock in her hand she looks up at Mike. "Amazing. By the wrinkles along the side of your penis I can estimate that you've been jerking yourself off twice a day, on average, for at least the last 10 years... and that you still don't know how to do it properly."

Mike just laughs as he puts one of his hands on the side of her face, squeezing and pinching her cheek roughly. "Well, maybe so, but not today. I wanted to make sure my first big fat load was just for you, cutie. ...and besides, haven't you ever heard the phrase 'never trust a skinny cook'?" You wince. There's a folksy little wooden cutout with that exact phrase hanging in your mom's kitchen back home, and now, every time you see it it's gonna remind you of this sleazy incident.

Flopping gracelessly down onto the couch, Mike grabs Mort by her raven-black hair very roughly, taking a whole bunch of it in his fist and yanking her over to roughly **** her face down in his lap. "Ah yeah give me some more of that deep throat, you little slut," he wheezes lustily as he bounces her head up and down on his lap like he's dribbling a basketball with both hands. Her hands tense and clench around his thighs and partway through it Mort gives a muffled, gagging cough. Entranced by the awful display, you are watching so closely that you can clearly see a bit of spittle coming out of one of her nostrils. But he keeps at it for another good long while. When he lets her go she just clears her throat and wipes her face with the sleeve of her long glove, wearing the same expression of simmering annoyance that she started with.

"Wow that was great. You know, most of the girls can't handle it very well when we introduce them to deepthroat right away like that." Mort tosses her head to the side. "Hmph - well it would have been a poor idea for me to agree to today if I had much of a gag reflex, no?" The director's response to that is to chuckle with amusement and stuff his hand down the front of her dress. It's not at all revealing by the standards of superheroine wear - she could wear it to an actual funeral without raising any eyebrows, especially since there isn't anything she possibly could wear that would give her the kind of cleavage that allows you to turn heads every time you speed down a sidewalk. But that just seems to make Mike take that much more pleasure in stripping her out of it: while one hand rubs and pinches her tiny breasts and nipples, the other slips around behind her and unzips it from the back, handing the camera off to the guy who she'd humiliated by jerking off so quickly.

With her dress stripped off, leaving her in just her lacy black panties, silk stockings and elbow-length gloves, it is clear that Petite Mort has a perfectly mature body despite sometimes appearing almost childlike when standing next to the likes of Maiden America or Tectonic Girl. There's no gentle way to put it: she is flat chested, with little swells around her nipples that you have to squint to see. But she also has a very narrow waist and a cute, feminine curve to her hips, and an impressively nice set of legs for a woman who needs high heels to reach five feet tall. And the other advantage becomes clear as even a somewhat flabby, out-of-shape guy like this 'Franco' fellow is able to pick her up and toss her around like a ragdoll. He pulls her off her feet and rolls her around in his grip, flipping her face up in his lap and making her visibly flustered. "Mon dieu... put me down!" He doesn't pay her any mind and leans down to press his lips against her belly button, blowing a raspberry against her.

It is so sudden and unexpected that you have to stifle a giggle and the victim herself lets out a little high-pitched "Heeeheeeha-AGH! STOP THAT!" she immediately looks mortified. "What does... that have to do with sex? I want you to cut that from the vid-mmggh!" she is cut off when he shoves three fingers rudely into her open mouth. She bites down to show her annoyance, but not hard enough to make him let go, and he laughs as he starts digging his other hand around in her panties while her legs kick and squirm. "Awww, she's just so precious, like a cute little doll that you also get to fuck. For those of you watching at home, Paris here is what we in the business like to call a 'spinner'. If you don't know what that means don't worry, you'll see in a minute. But first let's get her warmed up and ready." he continues his digital **** on her pussy for several minutes and moves her face up closer to his.

Mort wrinkles her nose. "Hmmmph! You can put your fingers wherever you want but I am absolutement not going to-" before she can finish her objection he pulls her up and mashes his lips over hers. Mort twists half-heartedly to get out of his grip, but in spite of her incredible scientific prowess and one of the League's strongest superpowers, her upper body strength is exactly as lacking as you would expect for a woman of her build. More nasty slurping noises fill the room as the dirty man at least 15 years her senior shoves his tongue past her lips and explores her mouth while slipping his hand around to to rear of her panties and doing something back there that draws a muffled yelp from her. When he lets her go a trail of spit stretches between his lips and hers, and Mort sputters disdainfully.

"Surely you weren't gonna say kiss, right baby? I mean, how could I have you in a casting and not want you to show me some 'French kissing'?" Mort makes a sour face like she's just bitten into a lemon and still keeps trying to wriggle her petite butt away from his fingers. "Ahhhnn... F-fine, but there's still other rules. Before we go any further... don't touch me THERE. If you try and stick it in my..." for the first time she looks a little genuinely embarrassed, "...the wrong hole, I'm going to bite your zizi off."

"His what...?" you blink in confusion, and several of the guys standing near you have a laugh at your naivete. You scowl at them, but at the very least they're sensible enough not to try and put their hands on you - you almost wish they'd try. Even after your morning patrol, the local hospital ICU surely has enough beds still open.

Gathering her up in his arms, Mike Franco lies down flat on the couch and grabs Mort firmly by her little round butt to pull her up to his face. "Since we're doing language lessons how about you tell our viewers the translation for 'moustache ride' and 'sixty nine'?" As he drags her crotch to his face and pulls her panties to the side to reveal her tiny pink slit for his tongue to get to work on, one of the gaffers pipes up. "Oh hey, I remember that one from high school! It's 'soy-santee noof'!"

Starting to perspire in spite of her mortified feelings, Petite Mort leans forward obligingly and starts slowly jerking his towering cock in her hands. This time instead of deep throating she keeps working her fingers around the base of his shaft while licking and curling her tongue around the tip. Mind control or no mind control you're genuinely concerned for her. You are almost a foot taller than her, and YOU would be concerned about that big cock going inside of you if you weren't very carefully prepared and relaxed, first!

Neither you nor she have all that long to wait before the moment when that possibility is put to the test to come. After a series of closeups of Mike's tongue dipping into her cunt over and over and the sexy super scientist teasing his glans with her tongue, he gives her butt a couple of hard swats with the back of his hand and urges her to stand up. He pulls her panties all the way down, leaving her in just her gloves and stockings as he shifts up to a sitting position on the couch. He wraps his hands around her waist, squeezing her hard as he pulls her roughly over to position her over his lap, making the girl stumble as she puts her legs on either side of his thighs.

"H-hey! Wait a minute! Cut, cut!" Petite Mort shrills, her voice getting a bit high-pitched and squeaky when she's agitated. He just gives her trim tummy a couple of sharp slaps and grabs a tube of 'Astro-glide', squeezing out a fat droplet on the tip of his straining cock. "Shh, shh, it's okay, Paris. This is a casting for 'boy-girl' type of scenes. This is how you make the most money. After we warm up with a 69, this is the part where you fuck me like a good little slut."

"But... ahhn!" she lets out a sweet voice in spite of herself when he reaches down to rub his index finger on her well-hidden clitoris. "At least... put on a condom first!"

"Oh yeah, I got interrupted before I could tell you," Mike says casually with a chuckle. "The corner store was sold out of the ones in my size. But it's fine, we'll pay you extra since this is a raw-dog scene." She squeaks incoherent objections but he pulls her waist lower, aligning his iron-hard rod with her delicate, pale little slit.

This is the moment you've been waiting for. You leap to your feet and point. "Hey! You low-down criminal scum! Didn't you hear, she said 'no!' Now release her before I hafta-"

It is Petite Mort herself that cuts you off, shrilly yelling: "SHUT THE FUCK UP, you over-endowed backwoods bumbler!! I don't need YOU to stand up for me!" While she's distracted with that, Mike takes advantage and pulls her hips down sharply. He has the unerring aim of an experienced pornographer, and his cock forces her pussy-lips wide open on the first drop. She gasps and her knees tremble as he slides half of his big dick up into her. Soon he is putting his hands around her petite, peachy ass and working her slowly down onto his stiff cock like juicing a lemon. Back and forth, side to side, he goes slow as she loosens up around him a bit at a time, and soon, he is gently tugging her down far enough that she is sinking onto his cock down to the base.

There are no more barbs or objections coming from Mort's mouth now - just quick, shallow breathing and muffled squeaks and squeals of sensation. He starts twisting her around on his lap, working her from side to side and waggling his own hips from side to side as he endeavors to explore every inch of her cunt. "Aaawwwwww yeah. This is the tightest fit I've ever had with a girl. You're doing great though, sweetie. You can really stretch." he says with a perverse lick of his lips. He pushes her down so far that Mort gasps as her pussy lips stretch to admit the entire eight inch length of his cock.... and as he urges her to lean back, you are treated to the indescribably lewd appearance of her puckered star-shaped asshole being covered up by his hairy balls. She gives a loud, sharp cry as he gives her pale ass a hard double-handed smack, leaving a pair of red hand-prints there, making him groan appreciatively as she tightens up around him even more.

You feel a deep, unbearable tension in your gut and clench your teeth so tight you're grinding them. She is clearly in distress here, but either Petite Mort is being controlled somehow by this sleazebag, or, she is just too proud and cantankerous to admit she needs help no matter how bad the situation. You are torn between competing impulses like never before. You have to go to the League for help... But you can't forget the deal she promised. You need to do what's right and stop this vile act... but you can't take the risk of just beating these guys into submission. You have to do something yourself if you're going to prove yourself to be a hero... but you can't leave Mort here alone with this guy either, as if he's willing to go this far in front of you who knows what he'd do if you left her in his grubby hands?

As Mike starts softly bouncing Petite Mort up and down in his lap hard enough that her ass can be heard rhythmically slapping against his hips, you suddenly feel a strange and unfamiliar sensation running through you. A sharp, painful sensation floods your senses and spreads all across your body. It is so sudden and shocking that you can't even scream as it feels like hundreds of knives and needles are suddenly pressing against your flesh in every direction.

And then... there is a 'snap', and a feeling of a release of tension which is difficult to describe without unpleasant metaphors involving difficulty using the bathroom that at last resolves itself. You sigh with pleasant relief.

That is to say... you hear yourself sighing with pleasant relief. And then you hear yourself gasp and then stammer in alarm. "What the holy hell - who are you?" a hand jabs you in the shoulder.

"Hey," you say, "Keep your hands to yourself, you..." and then your words stop as you look to the side. Although Petite Mort and Mike Franco don't notice, since she is facing away from you and Mike's eyes are focused on her delectable little body bouncing on his cock, the other five guys all gasp and stare in awe.

Although you are still sitting just where you were before, standing in front of you is... you. Another you - same bubble butt, same huge natural breasts, same tomboyish short blonde bowl-cut, same blue eyes, and even the same cowboy boots and same white leotard riding up between her ass-cheeks. You look down to confirm that you're still 'Lickety-Split Lynn', yourself, and sure enough, you see the same cleavage filling your field of vision when you glance down as always. It's like looking in a mirror, except there's no mirror.

"Oh shit/Oh gawd damn, I must have/I reckon I must have... split myself into two somehow/gone and divided like a starfish or something," two instances of your drawling feminine voice say in concert, slightly out of sync and with different choices of words. "Well, no time to worry about that! I gotta go find Influence or somebody and tell 'em that their scientist pal needs help out of a sticky situation!" the instance of yourself standing in front of you says. "Copy-Lynn, you sit tight there and make sure these dirtbags don't go anywhere with Mort-y! I'll be back in two shakes!" With incredible alacrity she brushes past the surprised porno actors and rushes out through the front door. "Wait a darn minute! I ain't no copy! YOU'RE the cop-" in spite of your indignant objection, you don't get any further before she/you (...this is gonna get really confusing in the pronoun department, you realize in the back of your mind) rushes out.

Partway through all that Petite Mort had managed to pull her attention away from the massive manhood spearing her again and again to look over her shoulder. She pants and gasps. "M...mon dieu... Did you just... spontaneously manifest a new superpower and violate... the laws of physics by manifesting an exact duplicate of yourself... JUST to go spread rumors to the Big 7 that I'm getting fucked in a porn scene?!"

"Wow," you say, avoiding the subject. "I guess... when I picked that name fer myself it was a, uh, whatchacallit, serendipity? Y'know... 'Split'?"

The guy who is sitting next to you on the couch looks back to you from the open door with a dumb grin on his face, and then blinks and considers. "Uhhh... hey, wait a sec... if she split herself into two like that and this is a copy of her... shouldn't she be naked? Kinda a gyp that she isn't naked."

"I AIN'T A GOSH-DARN COPY!" you shout indignantly. But now that he mentions it, it's actually a good point. Petite Mort, ever the intellectual even when a porno director is balls-deep in her tight cunt, grunts in sensation and shakes her head softly. "Fuuuck... don't try to use your small brain for logic, you'll hurt yourself... If the clone created by her superpower has hair and fingernails, then there's no reason clothing wouldn't also-"

Mike grunts and reaches up to roughly grip Mort by her face, squeezing her cheeks between his thumb and fingers and grabbing one of her thighs hard. "C'mon, focus, I'm paying you for the scene! Gonna have to cut all that... C'mon! Do your job guys, focus the camera!" he clears his throat and slows his rhythm. "Alright, so like I was saying..." as Mort rests her butt on his lap he takes both of her thighs in his grip and lifts her feet up off the ground, pulling them closer to himself and forcing her to grab him by the neck so she doesn't tumble down to the floor. "A cute little slut like this, we like to call a 'spinner', and let me show you the reason why..."

Well, this is certainly interesting. You have a much more unique superpower than you even realized. Your position in the League is looking a lot more secure, and especially since the clone of yourself you just created is going to go get someone who can properly intervene, well, there's nothing you need to do except sit here and watch for now, right?