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Chapter 7
by otx
What do you do?
Confront him
You land behind him. "Hold it right there!"
His head whips around. "Carlotta?"
Carlotta? That's Grandmother's name! Who the hell is...?
You freeze; he knows everything: what you've been keeping from your husband; what you've been hiding from the government; what you're hiding from yourself because you don't want to admit it. He knows and he's going to tell them and your super-career is over and you'll probably go to jail. You're frightened and humiliated and your world is coming to an end...
You're on your knees in the parking lot, crying. He's standing over you and looking down. You **** yourself to look up at him; his face is three-quarters covered by a black butterfly-style mask.
"You're not Influence, are you? You're not Francesca either; she doesn't have any powers. But you're affected... a granddaughter? Oh, this is precious; are you having fun wallowing in your ancestor's misdeeds?"
"Get out of my head!"
"It doesn't work that way, Grandbaby." He gently strokes your back; you can't do a damned thing to stop him. "I guess she didn't tell you only the truth can set you free. Now, let's see if you inherited her best attributes."
You're held motionless as he reaches under your top and unclasps the strap that keeps the sides of the diamond in place. It collapses to a vertical band leaving both your breasts hanging out. You try to squirm away but can barely move. You're so afraid all you can do is whimper while he plays with your tits.
He grabs your chin and pulls your face up. "Remember, Grandbaby, I owned your grandmother and I own you. No wait, what do they say nowadays? I pwn you. I can tell you one thing, though; your tits are a lot softer than Grandma's ever were. But then she was older than you are now."
"Let me up!"
"Sorry dear, not right now. You're going to stay here and squirm while I head off for my next appointment. TTFN, Boobs."
"My name is Nudge."
"Like 'nudge, nudge, wink wink?' I love a good Python reference. Maybe we'll do some 'whoagh' later." He makes a suggestive hip thrust and laughs. "Get grandma to tell you about me; tell her **** says hello."
With a last slap on your bare back he gets in the car and drives away. The woman is nowhere in sight; she presumably ran off while **** was taunting you. You're alone on your knees with your hands somehow stuck to the pavement and your tits hanging out and freezing in the night air. And your nipples are erect; ha-ha. The only good thing about this is that there are no security cameras up here to witness your humiliation.
After almost five minutes of struggling you can suddenly move again. Congratulations, you've met your first supervillain. He hides in plain sight: trench coat, fedora, and butterfly mask. Except for the mask he could be any of a thousand middle-aged men. And he has something on your grandmother that somehow still works on you to the point where he can stop you dead in your tracks. And your boobs are freezing.
You re-fasten your top and fly home. Being a superhero sucks.
What's next?
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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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