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Chapter 14
by otx
What's next?
Breaking out
Bondage crosses her feet on your back, using you like a footstool. You get a great view of her massaging her inner thighs.
You look upwards. "Okay Bitch, you've had your fun; how come your powers work and mine don't?"
"I turned off the power suppressors, cunt licker."
You throw the Acropolis Boot on both her tits, knocking her backward and pinning her to the floor.
"Release me right now, or we see how painful it is to take one of those between the legs."
She pulls at the clamps holding her down, which mainly has the effect of making her play with her nipples.
"Okay Bitch, you win."
The chains come off you and vanish. You wait a couple of moments (after all, she deserves it) then dissolve the Boot. Just out of spite you wrap her clit in police tape and give a squeeze.
"Now, let's get out of here."
You stand and pull her up to her feet. She shifts on her legs several times, trying to find a comfortable way to stand with her clitty tied up. There isn't one; you've tried. She puts a weak-feeling pair of handcuffs on your wrists.
"What's that for?"
"Show. You are still my prisoner."
You grumble but let her lead you out of the examination room.
Outside of the main containment area and the arena, the place is a maze. You couldn't find your way back if you tried, but with other-you here you shouldn't need to. You pass a few people, but she uses her best supervillain voice to tell them to get the fuck out of the way, and binds the guy that put up an argument. You leave his trussed, chained and stripped ass in the corridor while his buddies laugh at him. It's kinda too bad, he had a nice cock.
You rise into the center of the containment area; the first thing you see is a nine-foot diameter tube with Nudge in it. She's sitting in a rocking chair holding a baby to her breast.
"That's Bimbo Number One; I'm not sure who the kid is."
"No it's not, that's Compulsion. Even if you wanted to let her out I wouldn't. Not only is she a bad time in blue jeans, but look up."
Directly above you, about forty feet up, is a huge control room with plenty of guards.
"Sorry Bitch, we can't take all of them; they also got supers up there. And they can see everything so we gotta make sure it doesn't look suspicious."
She leads you through a forest of tubes to a fairly small one holding a blonde woman in rags. She looks like Mood Ring lost a fight with a weed whacker; her shimmering white leotard is defined more by the thousands of little cuts and tears than it is by its material. Miraculously the five-foot-six cheerleader isn't showing any signs of actual physical damage.
"You're going in there with her; these tubes are only rated four seconds for Imperatrix, so you should be able to crack it open in nine. Wait for my signal, which will be when the lights flicker."
"Aren't the guards going to get suspicious, me in there with her?"
"Nah, this is about the time of day when I go in and **** the shit out of her. Have fun, and remember to make it look good. The access password, which only works from the outside, is 69thebitch. Remember, wait for the lights to flicker, then bust her out and head for the big door over there. I'll be dragging Photon and Strobe, and hopefully your two bimbettes."
To be continued...
Perils of a Novice Superheroine
A generic superheroing setting drenched with sex and scandal
Acropolis City, the center of super-human and caped crusader activity in this particular world - with its own dizzying highs and lows, high-tech skylines and slums standing in stark, four-color contrast, it provided everything that a costumed megalomaniac or masked vigilante could ask for. In fact, as is usually the case where colorful masked characters are the norm, it has become something of an institution by this point. But although the mere existence of costumed heroes and villains no longer shocks people, these people - who, by their very nature, thrive on attention - keep finding new ways to stand out from the crowd and attract the eye. This last goal tends to get a lot of emphasis in the most simple, sexualized way possible. For reasons that the world's most brilliant scientists have yet to explain, latent super-abilities seem to manifest more often in women than men by a ratio of 3 to 1 or more. This is true even when the superpower isn't "natural"; paranormal artifacts fall into their hands, esoteric martial arts schools never seem to have a male heir, the technological prototypes they test always seem to be the ones that are most easily used or abused for good and evil. Unfortunately, the glory days of the past where citizens were happy to see any old masked do-gooder show up are over - in recent years, Acropolis City has established a ranking system of heroes where those who get high marks from the citizens and resolve incidents are rewarded with corporate sponsorships and (most coveted of all) seats at the prestigious League of Propriety. Those who intimidate the populace, cause excessive collateral damage, or simply don't excite anyone, garnering low rankings, get 'asked' to move to less prestigious cities. Few superheroes want to get stuck battling clans of villainous hillbillies and corrupt small-town sheriffs for the rest of their careers, so they're always eager to please the influential citizens of Acropolis City (judges, eminent scientists, first responders, and of course the all-important reporters). On the other side of the law, a similar dynamic predominates; only the most glamorous and charismatic costumed ne'er-do-wells can make it in this town. And so, the novice superheroines just learning the ways of battling for justice and order, without any team to back them up, always end up patrolling the skeeviest, most undesirable slums of the city and taking on the most thankless rescues. As if that weren't bad enough, most of them feel obliged to dress in ways that get more outlandish and revealing with every passing year while they fight the good fight and/or feed their craving for attention, depending on how you see the 'cape life'. As if that weren't troublesome enough, the superhuman mutations that make so many of these heroes' careers possible also result in greatly increased sexual sensitivity, particularly in females. The adventures and misadventures that these spandex-clad lady crusaders get into are often too hot to print for the kind of comics that their young admirers would read. Messy mistakes will be made, but you don't want to disappoint your readers, do you? So let the League know what kind of superheroine you are, your chosen name, powers, and appearance, and they'll send you out on your first patrols. Good luck.
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Updated on Jun 15, 2025
by micdan282
Created on Nov 30, 2016
by fyreant
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