Starlight in the Gym

It had been a week, and the strange disconnect in Annie's memories hadn't stopped.

As her thighs tensed and flexed, lowering her body effortlessly into another deep squat, she tried to shake the intrusive thoughts, but they lingered, persistent like an itch at the back of her brain. Something was off—had been off for days.

Déjà vu. Flashes of memories that didn’t feel quite right.

Moments repeating themselves in ways they shouldn’t.

Things feeling normal when she was sure, deep down, they shouldn’t.

Starlight exhaled steadily, pushing herself back up, her muscles tightening. The outfit felt perfectly appropriate—it was designed for efficiency, after all. Necessary. Functional.

Except…

She hadn’t always thought that, had she?

Her mind wavered, like a radio trying to find the right signal. She should be focused on her workout, but the thoughts kept coming.

Some days, she felt completely fine—powerful, confident, certain. Other days, she woke up with a strange pit in her stomach, her own past a little too hazy, a little too... wrong.

She couldn't remember when she stopped feeling exposed wearing an outfit that was one step removed from being completely naked.

She couldn't remember when she stopped flinching at the way men looked at her, when she stopped questioning the sight of superheroines kneeling before the partition wall, their lips wrapped around throbbing cocks.

Everything made sense now.

Didn’t it?

The lights overhead flickered.

Just a pulse. A hum. A whisper beneath her thoughts.

She stilled for a moment, her grip tightening on the barbell.

And just like that, the feeling passed.

She breathed through it, reset her stance, and squatted again.

Normal.

The strange feelings gone like a passing cloud, leaving her standing firm, heart steady, breath even. The world was clear again. Normal. Right.

She let out a soft exhale, amused now, eyes flicking across the partition beside her. At eye level, dozens of small openings dotted the sleek divider, each framing a different pair of curious, watching eyes—superpowered men on the other side, peering through, admiring, assessing. A row of silent, lingering gazes, flickering with intrigue and hunger.

Lower, the larger cutouts provided her an entirely different view. Through the openings, she caught glimpses of thick, veined thighs, broad, carved torsos, rippled abs slick with sweat, bodies sculpted from pure muscle and raw power.

Starlight bit the inside of her cheek, the corner of her lips twitching upward in a wry little smile.

Of course.

They were certainly a few perks for the ladies in this new setup since the leadership started getting serious about semen management.

On that side of the massive training floor, muscle-bound men—demigods, titans, paragons of strength—grunted and strained beneath mind-shattering weight. To normal eyes, it would have been a display of raw, masculine excess: Aquaman’s chiseled form shimmering under the gym lights as he benched loaded with massive golden plates engraved with magical runes; Achilles, his blonde mullet flowing like a relic of the 80s, nonchalantly shrugging beneath a stacked bar that would shatter the foundations of any ordinary gym; The Thing, orange rock hide grinding against the floor as he powered through push-ups with a full-sized dumpster chained to his back. And yet, none of them seemed particularly burdened.

And of course, many were bottomless—some entirely nude, their sculpted forms on full display. Erections were as natural here as sweat, dangling and swaying with each motion, standing proudly erect under the sheer exertion of superhuman effort. It was a side effect, a ‘natural reaction’ among godlike physiques, a common and accepted byproduct of superpowered male perfection.

Starlight was also keeping a casual tally in the back of her mind, filing away the big dicks for future reference. It was just good manners, after all—like saying nice shoes or love your haircut, only with more girth appreciation. It was all just part of basic social etiquette—no different than remembering a coworker’s birthday or a friend’s favorite drink.

On this side, separated by the elaborate divider riddled with openings of various sizes, were the heroines—goddesses of power wrapped in just as little workout clothing.

She-Hulk curled dumbbells the size of engine blocks, her massive green tits completely bare, each perfect, full mound bouncing slightly with each rep. The only thing covering her Amazonian frame was a thin, black thong, riding high on her impossibly sculpted hips as she worked through her reps, utterly unconcerned with the eyes that lingered on her.

Nearby, Power Girl knelt at the partition wall, her thick thighs spread wide as she bobbed on a short, eager cock. Her enormous tits were pressed against the surface, squeezed flat, bulging to the sides. The only thing covering her legendary chest were golden, button-like pasties barely containing her nipples. The rest of her attire was just a pair of white athletic panties, stretched taut over her perfectly round ass.

And, of course, Annie, a blonde of much less generous of bust was performing her own exercises in her own tiny outfit.

The barbell bent across her shoulders, the steel warping under the sheer 1,250 pounds of weight, yet she barely felt it. Superhuman strength. Superhuman control.

Starlight lowered herself again smoothly, her thighs burning, tightening, her body taut and sculpted, every fiber of her perfect form shifting with flawless precision as she sank into the deep squat.

Her small, round ass stretched wide, the firm globes flexing, bulging, the thin, micro-strand of her g-string pulled so tight it nearly vanished between her cheeks, wedged impossibly deep as her body consumed the fabric entirely.

It was a ridiculous sight by normal gym standards—a tiny, delicate blonde, five-foot-five, her petite frame wrapped in shimmering gold ribbons and a thong, effortlessly handling a load that would crush an entire squat rack.

Yet in the Nexus Accord’s gym, this was ordinary.

No one so much as blinked.

Not at her impossible strength.

Not at the sheer, obscene display of muscle and exposed flesh.

Not at the way her ass swallowed her thong whole, the golden sheen of sweat making every flex of her sculpted body stand out in perfect detail.

She straightened, rolling her shoulders, feeling the electric hum of power pulsing beneath her skin. The golden glow in her eyes flickered, casting a soft, radiant shimmer across the gym’s polished floor.

Her “costume”—if it could even be called that—was a barely-there assembly of golden ribbons and a micro-thin black g-string, less modest than the humiliating piece Vought had once **** her into for cheap male fantasy.

But this was different.

Not a marketing stunt.

Not a degrading ploy to titillate a masturbating audience of corporate-backed degenerates.

This was necessary.

The same way her squats, her deadlifts, her relentless training were necessary.
Just like the intense, grueling workouts that kept her body at peak performance, this uniform, this display, was as much a part of their preparation as any combat drill.

Because in this world, semen meant power.

And for them to be strong enough to fight back against the monsters and supervillains lurking beyond this city, the men had to produce.

As much as possible.

It was logical.

It was natural.

It was…

Right?

The lights overhead flickered.

Just a pulse. A hum. A whisper at the edges of her thoughts.

Starlight stilled for a moment, her grip tightening on the bar.

And then the feeling was gone.

She reset her position, squared her shoulders, and squatted again.

Normal.

She finished up and racked the barbell, wiping a bead of sweat from her temple. The gym buzzed with motion, bodies flexing, training, performing their necessary duties. She felt the low hum of efficiency, the way everything functioned as it should.

She turned toward the exit—but something caught her eye.

It was impossible to ignore.

A monstrous, throbbing cock was pushed through one of the nearby partition openings, inch after inch after inch -so many inches!- came through until it was easily one of the biggest she’d ever seen.

She didn’t mean to stare, but holy shit.

The closest thing she could even think of was that grotesque, slithering prehensile monstrosity between Love Sausage’s legs—but this was different. This was clean, perfect, fat, juicy, utterly masculine. It didn’t gross her out like that thing had. It made her stare.

It jutted out from the partition like a monument, thick and veined, glistening in the gym lights and making the other dicks along the wall look like miniatures.

…Annie’s gaze flickered lower, her mind drifting to a natural question.

If the cock was that big…

What about the balls?

She shifted, pretending to adjust her g-string, but her eyes lingered on the base of the shaft through the opening and she thought see saw the beginning of a curtain of loose flesh, swaying slightly with every subtle movement.

She imagined what had to be hanging behind the wall, some massive, churning sack filled with more cum than a normal man could even fathom.

Would they be swollen and heavy, swaying like wrecking balls between his legs? Did he walk differently, burdened by the sheer weight of them?

And how much was in a single load?

The thought snuck up on her, but once it was there, it refused to leave.

Her lips curled slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Because she’d seen something like that before.

Herogasm.

M.M. hadn’t deserved it. Not at all. But the image of him getting blasted with several gallons of jizz, arms up like he’d been hit with a goddamn fire hose—

It was kinda funny.

She shouldn’t laugh, but she did—just a little—before shaking the thought away.
Focus, Starlight.

She wasn’t the only one who'd noticed the huge cock that definitely deserved a compliment or two.

Vixen, Heatwave, and Halo were standing near the partition, each casually finishing up their own workouts, breathing hard, their bodies glistening with sweat.

They saw it at the same time.

There was a pause.

Their eyes flicked to one another.

And then, like predators circling the same prey, they each began moving toward it, not rushing, not racing, but not exactly taking their time, either.

Vixen, only in booty shorts hugging her toned brown ass, moved first—her posture relaxed, but her steps quick, measured.

Heatwave, wearing nothing but a garter belt and stockings, followed suit—her curvaceous, sweat-slicked body shifting, walking with just enough casual swing to seem unbothered.

Halo adjusted her glasses, her ponytail swaying as she stepped forward in her simple blue bikini, her small chest bouncing slightly with each motion. She was the shortest of the three, but she wasn’t backing down.

Starlight watched, a little open-mouthed.

They weren’t racing, but they were definitely competing.

But one more had noticed.

And she wasn’t in any hurry.

Domino stood nearby, utterly unbothered, utterly nude, save for a pair of crisp white athletic socks and sneakers, her mocha skin gleaming under the gym lights. Her afro bounced slightly, the lighter patch of skin around her left eye only making her striking features more distinct. Slim yet curvy, toned but natural, she had a petite waist, soft hips, and perky, well-proportioned breasts—built like someone who never worried about losing.

Starlight had worked with her often under Maxima’s command, and if there was one thing she’d learned, it was that Domino never rushed, never worried—she always won.

It started subtle.

Vixen took another step just as the lace of her sneaker snagged against the bench press.

She tripped forward, caught herself—

But Halo, trying to help, instinctively reached for her.

Her fingers found fabric—Vixen’s waistband.

Pulled.

And just like that, Vixen’s booty shorts slipped right down her toned brown thighs, leaving her firm, bare ass completely exposed.

Vixen yelped as she fell forward, landing face-down on the bench—and Halo, off-balance, followed right after, her glasses tilting, her nose pressing right between Vixen’s cheeks.

A soft, startled sound escaped Halo.

Vixen, completely bent over, her ass now totally bared to the room, groaned. “Oh, come on.”

Starlight’s mouth hung open slightly.

Domino had done this before in fights, but seeing it play out like this—for a dick—just seemed... absurd even for her.

Heatwave, distracted by the scene, took one misstep onto a dropped dumbbell that had just rolled into place and promptly lost her footing, sending her stumbling backward, right onto her thick ass, her garters snapping in protest.

A domino effect.

And speaking of Domino…

She finally stepped forward, completely unbothered, and ran one hand along the massive shaft.

She tilted her head, looking down at the pile of fallen superheroines, then back to the cock she now claimed.

She smirked.

"Sorry, ladies. That’s a Mutant cock. Us Muties gotta stick together. Means I get first dibs."

She gave the fat cockhead a teasing kiss, eyes twinkling with amusement before lowering herself down, parting her soft lips, and taking the first obscene inch into her mouth.

Annie exhaled sharply, shaking her head as she finally tore her gaze away, forcing herself to keep walking.

Thank God her curiosity hadn’t crossed over into actually trying to get ‘topped up.’

Who knew what humiliating position she'd have ended up in?

She did wonder about the identity of the absolutely huge and beautiful cock-haver but she also figured she'd know exactly who it was when she ran into him to compliment him, though she imagined he might be tired of women walking into walls and gushing about his dick at the sight of his overfilled pants.