Superheroic Shenanigans

It was time to hunt some vicious vixen and mess with their minds! You walked out of the café with a pep to your step and decided to give yourself some superpowers.

First, you wished that you had a lower maximum pain response after which your brain would no longer register pain.

Second, you wished for the ability to regenerate from a single drop of blood at will.

Third, you wished for an offensive ability. If you pointed at someone and said “bang”, their bodies would explode into blood and gore.

How fun! Wolverine would quiver in his breeches. Impatient to utilize your new power to restore justice to the world, you wished yourself to teleport to the woman who killed the most people in the city.

The surroundings rippled and you found yourself a few feet away from an effectively naked middle-aged hispanic woman in the middle of a deadlift. Her back was to you, but the full wall mirror allowed you to see she had her eyes closed. The only garments this raven haired bombshell had on were a headband, armband, and thighband. All Nikes. Her body was awash with sweat and her plump E cup tits were trembling with the exertion of the lift.

You looked around and saw a diverse set of gym equipment, but no one else was using them and there were no windows for sunlight. There was a glass wall separating the gym from the rest of the building, and men in suits with their backs to the glass door. It had to be a private gym in what you assumed to be her mansion. This whole setup stunk of dirty money.

“¿Quién es?” she asked, noticing your presence.

You wished that all languages were translated into English in your hearing and back-translated to the intended language when you spoke. Unbidden, you found yourself admiring her bronzed body and golden ratio of fat to muscle. The beginnings of a six pack tensed on her midriff. You said, “Sorry. Can you say that again?”

She turned to get a good look at you and her face contorted into a fearsome scowl. All you did was ask her to repeat what she said. Did she think you were an assassin? Apparently she did, because she lunged to tackle you. Pointing at her, you were about to do The Thing, but you hesitated. It would be a damn shame for someone so hot to die. Wasn’t she supposed to be your sexual relief? Damn it all! You felt her arms and E cup tits wrap around you and roughly tackle you onto the floor.

With your back on the floor, you should have been attempting to mount a counterattack, but all you managed to do was to grab her luscious tits and squeeze with a lewd grin. She screamed, “Intruder!” then performed a series of impressive moves. She raised her knees to your sides past your hips, almost like mounting cowgirl style. You felt her grapple one of your groping arms in a tight two-arm lock and tip her whole body over to the side of that groping arm.

With a repositioning of her waist and legs, she had your shoulder against her pussy, your face against the bottom of her knee, and your only remaining groping arm pulled lengthwise against the vertical axis of her body. Her sweat had smeared all over you. This was MMA shit! She knew Jiu-Jitsu! You heard a pop and the mounting pain in your arm maxed out. She yanked your arm out of its socket! The pain was only at the level of a hard spank, but it was constant. This lady was really vicious, but you weren’t angry. You were excited! This was your first superhero foray and it was way more enjoyable than gaming already!

By now, the guards had rushed in. The vixen kicked your head with her foot as she let you out of the lock. Despite all of the pain, you had a massive boner. Her Nike outfit was very fashionable and very slutty, you reckoned, from how often the guards were sneaking glances at her even though their guns were pointed at you.

She barked, “Who the hell is this guy? How did he get inside my house?” Now that you were paying closer attention, her voice positively dripped with sensuality, even through the anger. The guards withered under her nude rage. At this angle, you could see her pussy was glistening with sweat and slightly spread. You forgot she was turned on by your touch. That gave you an idea.

You swung your body over and grabbed her shin with your good hand. With another pop (or unpop), your arm returned into its socket and grabbed her other ankle. Shots fired and mild pain spread on your chest, but you ignored it. She screamed, struggled, and called you the devil, but you pulled yourself up her legs with your hands while they emptied their barrels at point blank range into your chest. They were all scared out of their minds and must be wondering why you wouldn’t die. How amusing! By the time the two guards started firing empties, your tongue had reached her pussy.

She squealed to the heavens in fearousal. You pulled your tongue back and tasted mostly salty sweat, but there was a hint of cream. Milkshakes? She screamed, "Get it off me!"

The guards and her took action, yanked you off of her, pushed you against a bench press and put a bar on your hips. They added weights onto that bar until you couldn't move at all. Finally, they stopped to breathe heavily and watched your body repair itself by expelling all their bullets in abject fear. You calmly stared back at them and said, "Evil villains, prepare to meet justice!"

They gave you an odd look after you delivered the campy lines you had prepared. The short and stocky guard suddenly said with passion, "Are you a real life superhero? I love superheroes!"

You smiled proudly and explained, "Yes I am! This is my first time fighting crime, so I ran into a few hurdles, but nothing I can't handle."

The boss lady shot a furious glance at your new fan and angrily said, “Shut the fuck up, Frank!” She then turned to you and said in a simultaneously angered and intimidated tone, "Who are you and why are you here, pervert?"

"I'm.. uh.." You didn't think to prepare a secret identity. Once again proving himself to be invaluable, Frank realized your difficulties and jumped to proactively make some name suggestions, “Regenero! Reverso! The Terminator! Doctor Immortal!”

You appreciated his input, “Not bad, Frank. I like the sound of all of those, but I don’t have a medical degree, so we can’t do the last one. Shall we hold a vote?”

The boss lady’s face was entirely red with rage at Frank, so you skipped the theatrics, “I like Terminator, personally, even if it is a little bit of a knock-off.”

Frank excitedly added, “Right, dude. Just like the Arnold Schwarzenegger cyborg, you can just keep going no matter how much your body gets shit on. All you need are some guns.”

“Enough!” the bombshell screamed. You really liked the way her boobs and nipples shook in her fury. Your sister’s nipples were smaller and cuter, but these pointy ones with voluminous areola had a mature charm you fancied too. She repeated, “Why are you here?”

You explained yourself because it wouldn’t make a difference either way, “I heard you killed a lot of people and came to bring you to justice.” She heaved a sigh, walked over next to you, and put her arm around your head. You felt her tit on your cheek and reached your tongue out for her nipple as she tightened her hold. Before you could make it, she snapped your neck with a light grunt and you once again felt that constant mild pain again on your tongue and neck.

The taller of the guards drew a cross on his chest and muttered a prayer as she released the hold and dropped your limp head back onto the bench press. Frank looked away and covered his eyes in dismay. He whined, “Martina, how could you do that?! He’s a real superhero.”

She nearly snarled back, “Damn it, Frank! My uncle sends people trying to kill me every day and you can’t get over your superhero obsession! This has to be more of the same. I have no idea how or where my uncle found someone like him, but I’d be fucked if he had a gun. We would all be.”

There was a small trickle of vaginal fluid that escaped her slit, undoubtedly induced by the recent contact necessary for the twisting of your neck. Beautiful! You snapped your neck back into place, raised your head, and asked, “What do you mean he sends people to kill you? Have you only killed others in self-defense?”

The others yelped and backed away in horror, but shortly after the scare, Frank was all smiles. He quickly made his case to Martina, “He can’t have been sent by your uncle, see? He doesn’t even know.”

Martina composed herself from the jitters and looked between you and Frank hesitantly. Her eyes lit up with a newfound appreciation for your supernatural abilities, so she took the opportunity to bargain, “If I tell you the truth, will you help me?”

“Depends if you’re a villain or not.” you answered.

She shrugged, stayed silent for a moment, and then started her story. “My parents ran a **** cartel in Colombia. From the beginning, they never allowed me to come into contact with the illegal side of their operations. Business was good for them and they made a lot of money, but they made a lot of enemies as well. Recognizing that they had overextended their hands, and not wanting me caught up in danger as well, they sent me to America 10 years ago with all of their offshore bank account information. They had my departure take place under utter secrecy and faked my **** with a body double. Two years ago, they were found dead and I have been hunted ever since. That’s the short version of the story. Is that enough for you to tell if I’m a villain or not?”

You turned to Frank and demanded, “Will you swear on the superhero name you gave me that all she said is true?”

Frank puffed his chest out and said, “Yes, Terminator sir! Miss Martina has her rough edges, but she’s a lovely woman and has nothing at all to do with her parents’ **** empire besides inheriting the money.”

Everything looked clean. You trusted Frank. “What kind of rough edges?” you asked, just to be sure.

Martina looked nervous while Frank continued, “Well.. she’s a bit too quick to cripple and go for the kill. We are too, but you can’t really blame us. Altogether us and our dwindling team have killed 140 or so of her uncle’s men in the past couple years and had to move from safe house to safe house, while also avoiding any contact at all with the LAPD and FBI. The last thing we want to do is be cop killers, even if there are crooked cops on her uncle’s payroll trying to track us down.”

“Fine. What else?” You ventured there was more from his hesitation.

He leaned down close to you and lowered his voice, “Every now and then, she gets really fucking horny and the only thing that can calm her down is wild, animalistic sex.” He raised his brows suggestively at you and his quiet, tall counterpart.

“FRANK..!” Apparently, his voice was not as quiet as he thought, because Martina was once again stewing with rage. She was adorable when embarrassed. Frank started running around the gym and Martina chased after him. He didn’t fight back when he got caught and she peppered him with solid, thwacking punches.

Your boner was back at full **** witnessing the lewd body in action. You didn’t care for the sob story, but her body and personality was great. She didn’t seem like someone evil though, so you didn’t feel right turning her into a mindless cocksleeve or something similar. Better to find a more suitable arrangement. You stated, “I can basically guarantee your safety on one condition.”

Martina stopped her light beating of Frank, put on a mask of calm, and approached you with a mix of many emotions you couldn’t identify in her eyes. Distrust? Hope? Greed? Lust? Fear? Maybe all of them.

“What is the condition?” She really wanted to recruit you, even if the only talent she knew you had was to serve as an immortal human shield. Long months of desperation wore on her. She probably intended for you to be a hired gun to penetrate deep into enemy lines and kill her uncle. You figured she would pay millions if you asked, however, you were interested in only a single form of payment.

You smiled and made your offer, “Sexual services from you whenever I want.”