The Constant Stimulation Is Distracting

It felt so natural. Get up. Stretch. Swallow a pill with her first cup of coffee. Slide the vibrator in her cooch and let the pleasant buzz fill her crotch as she went about her exercises. Shower, masturbate, make breakfast for the kids. A typical morning routine, only occasionally broken by the intrusion of a portal to the Negative Zone or the sudden disappearance of Albania, the latter of which had taken all of Tuesday to sort out.

Then the kids needed to get to their classes. Reed disappeared in his lab, Johnny and Ben got up to their own devices. It was, typically, left to Sue Storm to make sure that the Fantastic Four's living quarters were cleaned (a task made easier with automated robots these days), check her email, handle a few money matters, and spend half an hour on high vibration, pussy dripping down her thighs in blissful mindlessness until it was time to make lunch.

Villains liked to strike during lunch. The kids often cheered when the alarm sounded, because that meant instead of a healthy meal they were going to get tater tots and chicken nuggets. Depending on the scale of the threat, the family might be away from home all day; as it was when a Kronan shaman attempted to wake the spirits of Wall Street.

By the afternoon, the constant stimulation made Sue's pussy sore. She'd need to change the pad she wore beneath her costume, and her attention span grew short, especially if she had missed her late-morning multi-climax. Having a pill with her second cup of coffee made things worse. She would often zone out during Reed's lecture on the threat, and just throw invisible bowling balls at whatever menace they were handling today.

Or, in those quiet afternoons, try to do something with the kids, often losing concentration on games or staring distractedly at nothing in particular as the anticipation built and built inside of her yet fighting off the climax so they couldn't see. Once, at the Bronx zoo, Sue had stared at a rhinoceros for fifteen minutes before running into the bathroom, frigging herself in quiet desperation as Ben took the kids to the reptile house.

In the evening was dinner. If Sue hadn't managed to touch herself earlier in the day, he pussy would be a sopping mess, desperate to be touched. If she had gotten to masturbate, she'd be super-sensitive, sitting at the table and feeling the wet squelch in her underwear, missing out bits of conversation.

The weird part was how no one seemed to notice.

Ben shattered a vape pen, out on the balcony. He sighed. Alicia had told him that smoking was a bad example for the kids, but he missed his stogie. The Thing tossed the pieces into a small trash can and stared out at Manhattan in the night. The city never slept, and more than one night he'd been awoken in the wee hours to a sudden alarm, as some criminal decided the middle of the night was the perfect time to steal moon rocks or break into a lab, or...

"Hey, Ben," Johnny swooped past, a fireball that did a perfect spin and landed on his feet next to the rocky figure. "Has Sue seemed distracted to you lately?"

The Thing scratched at his chin. It made a raw scraping sound.

"Now that she mentioned it, she did stare awful long at the rhinoceros today when we was at the zoo," he said.

"And she made the kids peanut butter and baloney sandwiches yesterday," Johnny said. "Little things like that. It almost seems like her mind is somewhere else."

"Mebbe she's got a lot on her mind," Ben replied.

"Maybe," Johnny said with a sigh. "I don't know. I'm worried about her. She seems checked out all the time."

"Well, let's go tell Strech-o," Ben said. "If it's enemy action, Reed will suss it out."