Rocketgirl edges for 60 years while Miss Haller prepares her

From time to time, Miss Haller would taunt her captive with some distressing news. Usually the update would be cause for Miss Haller to celebrate; the worse the news for Rocketgirl, the more elated Miss Haller would be delivering it. Miss Haller's celebrations took many unpredictable forms, all of them also bad news for Rocketgirl. She'd triple the dose of aphrodisiac, pour a bottle of champagne down her throat, or personally **** the heroine. Sometimes she'd test a new nefarious piece of technology on the heroine.

Time meant nothing to Rocketgirl. She knew she couldn't trust her captor, but Miss Haller's updates were her only link to the outside world.

"You've been my captive for a week now," had been Miss Haller's first update.

"You've been my captive for a month."

"You've been my captive for a year." It was on this occasion that Miss Haller showed Melissa her gloved, lubricated hands. Atop one sticky, gloved index finger sat a small microchip. "I call this invention De G Spot. It's for your G-spot!" Miss Haller giggled as she inserted two gloved, lubricated fingers into Melissa's twat and, wriggling around, suddenly jabbed the superheroine's G-spot hard. When she removed her gloved fingers, she no longer held the microchip. Instead, De G Spot was now firmly embedded on Rocketgirl's own G-Spot. Of course the programmed GIF #3: Sex prevented Rocketgirl from asking Miss Haller what De G Spot was for. All she knew about it for now was that it vibrated ever so subtly, providing constant stimulation to one of her most sensitive erogenous zones.

On another occasion, Miss Haller announced, "I'm pretty sure one of my men has impregnated you. I'm going to extract the fertilized egg so we can raise the child and you can just keep getting fucked." After Miss Haller extracted Melissa's fertilized egg, she tattooed the helpless heroine. Melissa had never desecrated her pristine young skin with a tattoo and never wanted to. Even as she found the unusual sensation of the tattoo needle incredibly arousing, she feared what Miss Haller was tattooing on her body. For her part, Miss Haller had a very specific idea in mind of the tattoos she would apply every time Melissa got pregnant. But even Miss Haller couldn't see her fine artistry come to fruition; she was amused that one of the effects of trapping Melissa in the GIF was that her skin would remain unblemished as long as she was caught in the GIF; after all, the GIF had been captured when Melissa had no tattoos. So as Miss Haller worked the needle over Melissa's taut skin, she chuckled as she watched the ink simply get absorbed into the superheroine's skin, as though disappearing entirely. But Miss Haller knew that one day, when she released Melissa from this GIF, all those tattoos would become visible. She relished the thought of the prolonged ****.

Over the years, Rocketgirl gradually lost hope that anyone would ever find her and rescue her. Eventually she lost hope that anyone was even looking.

"You've been my captive for longer than you were a university student."

"Happy 25th birthday, Melissa. 25 -- that's a BIG year! Let's make it a big one." This is how Melissa was introduced to one of Miss Haller's favorite traditions. Every five years, Miss Haller used the speed dial on her GIF trap to **** Melissa to metabolise a whole cake every hour. Cocks were interspersed with a tube ****-feeding her a cake that had been ground in a food processor. Cake, icing, and cum intermingled in her stomach all day, every day during those years.

"You've been my captive for five years. I'm gonna have some champagne to celebrate. Do you want some? No, you're a college girl -- you're much more into beer." And this is how Melissa was introduced to another of Miss Haller's nefarious traditions:. Every five years of her captivity, Miss Haller used the speed dial on the GIF trap to **** Melissa to metabolise an entire keg of beer every hour. Fortunately, this meant fewer blow jobs that year. Unfortunately, she did still have to give at least one blow job between consuming each keg.

"Happy 30th birthday, Melissa. Another BIG year!" More cake.

"You've been my captive for ten years." More beer.

"Your eighth child has been born. Congratulations." Melissa's mind flashed briefly to the eight times Miss Haller had given her an as-yet invisible tattoo.

"You've been my captive for longer than you were a superheroine."

"You've been my captive for half your life."

"Thirty years." Beer.

"Forty years." Beer.

Rocketgirl couldn't believe it. Was it possible she had really been wriggling under the influence of GIF #3: Sex for so long? How was she surviving? When she got out of here -- if she ever got out of here -- would her muscles even work so she could make her move and escape? And more importantly, the lifelong infusion of the aphrodisiac and the unknown number of orgasms pent up inside her were too strong to ignore. Would she ever be allowed release?

One day, Miss Haller stopped her men from **** Rocketgirl. She unhooked the air tube from Melissa's nostrils and snapped her fingers as a signal. Two men lifted Rocketgirl's still-writhing form into the air while two other men laid a glass mirror down on the floor. The men holding Rocketgirl laid her gently down on top of the mirror. Then Miss Haller climbed atop her captive and draped herself over the former heroine. She smirked as she looked into Melissa's eyes. For the first time in years, the glassy-eyed heroine got a clear look at Miss Haller. She was shocked at what she saw. This was a beautiful woman, but she was clearly much older than she had been when Melissa came after her as a young superheroine. Were all Miss Haller's taunts actually true? Had Rocketgirl been imprisoned and fucked here for decades?

The elderly Miss Haller cradled Melissa's head and pressed her soft lips against the plump, youthful lips of the onetime heroine. Despite the aphrodisiac and teetering for years on the precipice of unrealized orgasm, Rocketgirl was surprised to find herself turned on by the significantly older woman's touch. After a few minutes, Miss Haller broke the kiss and stood up. She bent over to tear away the adhesive cum counter from Rocketgirl's belly. Grinning at the number, she cocked an eyebrow as she slowly turned the counter around so Melissa could see the display.

"You've been my captive for 60 years, Melissa," Miss Haller said proudly. "In all that time, you've racked up over 900 octillion orgasms. Soon you'll get to feel every single one of them."

Miss Haller whistled and a man handed her a mechanical box. She turned a dial on it and a loud whirring emanated from the ceiling as a pulley lowered a mirror into place a foot above Rocketgirl. She could watch her body squirm and wriggle in the mirror and periodically made eye contact with herself when the GIF commanded it.

"There are cameras embedded in both mirrors above and below you, Melissa," Miss Haller declared. "They'll help me record everything that happens to you from here on out."

Then Miss Haller pulled out her GIF trap for the first time in more than half a century. She clicked a button and for just a moment, it seemed nothing had changed. Melissa continued to pump her head, tongue, and lips, and her arms and legs continued to spasm as though in the throes of ecstasy. But soon she felt her labia close and that's how she became aware that she was no longer under the control of the GIF. She gradually pried her muscles free of the control of the muscle memory of going through the motions of sex; for nearly three quarters of her life, this is all Melissa's muscles and limbs had been allowed to do. Getting them to respond to fresh signals from her own brain was no easy feat.

After a few minutes, Melissa's elevated heart rate had slowed and her breathing returned to normal. She laid on the mirror, gathering her wits. As the decades of fog lifted from her mind, she became aware of two competing, overwhelming desires: to escape and to masturbate. She needed to be free of Miss Haller, but even more than that, she needed to cum. At the moment, though, she didn't have the ability to do either. She tried to relax long enough to regain control of her limbs so she could escape, then masturbate. No, to masturbate, then escape. No, to masturbate as much as she could until she was fully sated, and then to sleep for the first time in decades. No, not to sleep, to escape! But first, to masturbate.

But lying on one mirror and looking up into the other, Melissa began to notice something strange. It started with a swelling in her breasts and ass. Then she watched in horror as her belly expanded and her tits flattened against it. Her arms and legs grew significantly broader and flabbier than she was accustomed to, and she broke out in a cold sweat trying to keep her arms elevated before giving up and allowing them to collapse by her sides. Just then her neck swelled up and her face puffed out. "W-w-w-what? Oh, n-n-n, n-no," she mumbled through her newly fattened face, her pudgy hands reaching up to feel the protrusion of her cheeks and the loss of her beautiful features.

"C'mon, Melissa," Miss Haller's voice taunted. "Did you really think you could eat that much cake -- and nothing else for three quarters of your life -- and not put on a little weight?" The villainess chuckled.

Melissa gulped hard as another wave of changes came over her. "Hic! Hic! Hic! BUUUUUUUUURP!" Rocketgirl belched, burped, and hiccuped for a steady five minutes as her body was finally allowed to release decades worth of gas consumed through all the "celebratory" beer and champagne. "Ohh, UNNNH!" she wailed in agony, her plump hands trembling as she squeezed her head and clenched her eyelids shut, fruitlessly trying to fend off the monster of all hangovers.

"And that would be all the **** finally working its way through your system," Miss Haller declared. She drummed one finger knowingly against Melissa's massive tummy, relishing the echo it caused inside the superheroine. "But don't worry. With how quickly the years are catching up to you now, that headache should be gone before you know it. But this pudge may last forever! Now I wonder when we'll see the other changes appear on your skin..."

Rocketgirl recalled with horror that Miss Haller had given her a number of invisible tattoos over the years -- and sure enough, now they all splotched out on her skin at once in resplendant black before quickly fading to a gentle dark gray. There was a raccoon-like eye mask -- "as though you were a real superheroine, Rocketgirl," Miss Haller taunted -- and a utility belt -- "I'll bet you wish you had one of those when you wandered into my basement lab all those years ago." There was a prominent R-symbol over her left breast, in the style of the logo Rocketgirl used to use -- "Remember that, sweetie?" There was a **** collar around her neck -- "That's grown a few sizes since I put it on you back in your twenties." There was a fountain of what was clearly meant to mimic milk spouting from her right tit to pool in a ripple just above her pussy -- "Mmm, too bad you're too old to lactate now, darling." There was a rocket with a screaming image of Rocketgirl herself inside, pointing from the R-symbol down to her pussy -- "This one reflects your life trajectory, from proud superheroine to helpless **** to your own wanton lust. A little on the nose, I admit." There was a stamp on her nose reading PROPERTY OF MISS HALLER -- "That one's a LOT on the nose! Hahahaha! And it's what you get for sticking your nose into other people's business." And finally around Melissa's lips appeared the phrase FUCK FACE -- "After all, you did get fucked in the face. A lot."

The hangover beginning to fade, the former Rocketgirl was now relieved to see some of her fat receding. She remained significantly chubbier than she'd been when she arrived all those decades ago, but she no longer resembled a beached whale, just a voluptuous older woman. Wait -- older?! What was happening to her now?

The rapid weight gain, hangover, and horror of each humiliating tattoo's reveal now behind her, Melissa began again to heed the siren's call of her monumental lust. Ecstasy beckoned, tantalizing her even as she observed with somewhat removed horror as her hair thinned and greyed, wrinkled developed around her eyes, her lips pulled back into thinning but still inviting pillows, and veins and age marks began to appear on her thinning skin. Her magnificent muscles, previously pudged out from the decades of fatty sugars Miss Haller had poured down her throat, briefly appeared again before winnowing away as her massively expanded skin wobbled over emptiness as her body rapidly aged through all six decades of her captivity. "Oh, Miss Haller, what have you done?" Melissa wailed, her voice rapidly deepening from her young co-ed's soprano to the deep alto of a much older woman. Rocketgirl's aged, bony fingers with her unnaturally loosed, flabby skin trembled as she tried to muster the strength to touch her now fully deflated breasts. She whimpered her disappointment when she finally reached an areola and realized it no longer held the same sexy sensation it had when she was a young woman. She poked it gently and watched in the mirror as she moved it all around her deflated chest, not feeling the orgasmic release she'd hoped to achieve.

"Nothing, Melissa," Miss Haller replied. "I'm just watching as you catch up to the age you really are. I must say, I'm really enjoying the show. But something tells me you're not quite satisfied. Still after those 900 octillion orgasms? They're yours for the taking. Just reach out and touch yourself." By now Miss Haller was whispering in the former heroine's ear, her hot breath tickling Melissa's ear, the gentle clicking of her tongue and teeth teasing the significantly overstimulated former heroine. Miss Haller gently licked and nibbled Melissa's earlobe, and that finally pushed the heroine's thoughts fully away from her predicament and back to striving for orgasm.

Miss Haller chuckled softly and continued to tease the heroine's ear as she toyed with one of Rocketgirl's flabby tits. She watched gleefully as the heroine whimpered, straining her trembling arms lower, lower, lower until finally she reached her clitoris. Melissa knew her release was finally at hand. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and touched her fingertip to her clit.

Melissa's eyes shot open and she gasped as all 900 octillion orgasms shot through her at once.