Sue Storm Cannot Ween Herself From Porkum's Nut Milk

One week. Seven bottles. Sue Storm handed one to H.E.R.B.I.E. for analysis and synthesis. The others...

The Invisible Woman tried to ration it out. Like she would when starting a diet. Smaller portions. Distractions when she felt the urge to drink more. Much of her days she spent using her resources to track criminal money flowing through the city. Identifying likely caches of cash that major criminals like the Kingpin or the Maggia had. Yet there always came a moment, when her mind would be unable to process the words on the screen, when her fingers would start to tremble, and her wounded thigh throbbed.

Then she would drink. The warm, thick, bitter liquid would slide down her throat and arouse a terrible need in her body. After a small glass, Sue would feel her pussy leaking, her nipples hard, a **** need to chug the bottle that she had to fight, even as she licked up every last sticky white drop.

When the nurse came to check in on her in the afternoon, Sue could feel herself fidgety as the dressing was changed. Tried to pass it off as nervous energy.

"Restless?" the Black woman said, with a knowing smile.

"It feels like an enforced vacation," Sue said. "Can't really go out and do anything. Miss my family."

The nurse nodded.

"You're healing well. Faster than I expected. Is that part of your powers?" she asked.

Sue shook her head.

"No. Invisibility, **** fields—but I'm no stronger or faster or better able to heal than a normal person. If I didn't diet and exercise, I'd get fat!" Sue said.

"Well, whatever you're doing, keep it up," the nurse said. "I know resting can be difficult, but whatever light exercise you're managing seems to be managing your weight and muscle tone well enough. Just try not to overdo it. I've known far too many heroes that tried to do heroics when they weren't at full capacity, and ended up hurt worse and for longer."

"I'll avoid overtaxing myself," Sue promised, and wondered if that was a lie as the nurse left.

She was down to one last bottle of milk, plus what she had given H.E.R.B.I.E. to analyze. Her effort to ween herself had failed, and her choice now was another criminal heist to buy herself more time—or...

"H.E.R.B.I.E., what is the status of your analysis?" she asked. "Can you synthesize the nut milk yet? Or have you identified a substitute?"