Request to stay

"Supergirl, wait!" Your own voice startled you as much as it seemed to startle her. It came out of nowhere, from your deep gut rather than conscious thought. You were already regretting this impulsive request, but words continued pouring out of your mouth without any control. "You aren't acting madly in love or submissive like last time, I think it is safe enough if we stay here a bit longer. If something happens, I promise not to **** it."

Her breathing hitched audibly at your words. Even through the mask, you could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. "Last time I considered... not asking for your permission to... love you," she admitted softly, her voice trembling slightly. "I need to leave while I am still able to do so..."

"You shouldn't be leaving yet," you found yourself saying firmly, standing your ground. "It shouldn't get worse now. Let's talk for a few minutes. " You swallow after deciding to admit the elephant in the room. " And I am sorry... for getting... excited during the flight."

"No, no, no..." she stammered, shaking her head vigorously. "It is not your fault. It is natural, besides... with this new pheromone power of yours, we know nothing about how your own hormonal..." Her gaze dropped down to the tent in your gown, her pupils dilating more noticeably. "I mean...biochemistry may have become overly... active. One more reason I should leave."

"Look." You took a calming breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "We are both aroused. And we are both adults who can control ourselves. Your reaction seems to be purely physical this time, no mind-altering level madness. We are perfectly capable of having a productive conversation, right?"

She hesitated, visibly torn between the desire to flee and the curiosity natural for her. After a long moment, she nodded slowly. "A brief discussion, then. But I'm staying over there, by the window." There was a finality to her tone, but also a hint of vulnerability that tugged at your heartstrings.

You took a few careful steps to your messy bed, avoiding the scattered glass shards, and sat down gingerly. Supergirl followed your movement with her eyes but kept her distance, remaining glued to the window frame.

"It must be the skin-to-skin contact, my cheek on your neck," you mused aloud, trying to make sense of everything. "Whatever my body is producing must have penetrated through the pores directly into your bloodstream, so to speak."

"So it appears." She paused, thinking hard despite the obvious sexual frustration written all over her posture. "But it is very different now. I don't...need especially you...or your approval. I just WANT." The last word came out sounding almost like a moan, thick with need.

"So any man will do?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, tinged with an irrational flash of jealousy that seemed utterly misplaced considering the circumstances.

"Or woOOOman..." she corrected automatically, her voice hitching. "If I leave... I may **** a stranger...like an animal."

"That doesn't sound like something you would do..." Your voice was low, trying to soothe her frazzled nerves.

"NO!" She shook her head vehemently, panic edging into her tone. "But I am not sure... not in this state!" Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, knuckles turning white. "I need... I need... I need fingers! Turn away!"

You wanted to protest, to argue that you could handle whatever came next, but the raw desperation in her voice made you turn your back to her immediately. Then you heard sounds that would stay with you forever—first the soft rustling of fabric, then powerful, accelerating wet sounds, and finally, suppressed moans coming in rapid succession like a machine gun. Supergirl was using her superspeed in a nonconventional way, frantically pleasuring herself to stave off the overwhelming urges coursing through her veins.

Even with less than thirty seconds to imagine what was happening behind your back, it felt like an eternity. When she finally fell silent, save for the slow, deep breaths, you waited several moments longer before risking a glance over your shoulder.

She stood there, leaning heavily against the window frame, face flushed, chest heaving. The costume was back in place, but you couldn't miss the telltale damp patch on her crotch or the sheen of perspiration on her forehead and neck or a shine on her right hand.

"John, I think I handled the worst part," she said slowly, her voice hoarse from exertion and emotion.

You almost immediately turn away again. "Are you okay?" You asked quietly, concern lacing your words.

"As well as I can be," She answer with **** calmness. "I feel better. Not normal. But Better. Thankfully, I didn't lunge at you."

Then comes the realization of what exactly happened. During the first encounter, you had wanted Supergirl to change, to submit, to be a mindless whore and subconsciously gave her those orders. Then you got scared and made her leave, gave an order that was also followed after some **** perhaps caused by different pheromones saying opposite things. Now, experiencing her kind, friendly, cheerful personality, you wanted her to stay the same...but crave sex like you did. And it was exactly what your pheromones had done. Your power was more than mere chemistry; it was tied to your deepest desires, transferring them to the minds of ones who get the chemical manifestation of your needs in their bloodstream.