Chapter 5
by otx
What's next?
Milk Maid
It took the techs almost an hour to peel your tongue off Widow's gushing cunt. The slimy liquid is nowhere near as powerfully adhesive as her webs, but it's still gooey and sticks to everything. Finally the two of you are separated and Widow is moved to another room.
One of the techs, a cute redhead with bobbed hair and comically huge breasts, says, "Okay, Sting, now we have to clean this stuff off you. It's going to be a bit weird, so brace for it."
"O-Okay."
You're expecting a bath or maybe a rubdown with oil, maybe something ultrasonic, but not what happens. The redhead takes off her blouse. Not only are her breasts like Q or R cups, they're also firm and mostly stand up on their own.
"What the fuck? Are your boobs a superpower or something?"
"Yeah; I tried out as Milk Maid, but they wouldn't take me. You see, whatever liquid I drink gets expressed from my nipples as milk. I can also store it up, which inflates my breasts like water balloons. I tried knockout drops and other stuff, but it ended up hitting me before I could actually affect anyone else. Right now I have the solvent for Widow's super-sticky web cum in me."
She gives her tits a squeeze and shoots some milk onto your hands, still glued to your stomach. It takes a while, but under her rubbing massage and several more squirts your hands are eventually free.
"There. Now comes the weird part."
"Now comes the weird part?"
"I'm going to need my hands to rub the solvent milk into your skin; you have to squirt the milk."
"Uh, why?"
"Things go faster that way. Don't feel creeped out or anything, I'm a professional."
"Uh-huh."
You touch her soft-but firm breasts and give a squeeze. It takes a little practice to do it right, and her moans when you do are NOT helping. As you squirt she's massaging it into your skin, which tingles under her firm caresses and even for a while afterwards. She's down to D-cups by the time you're fully clean. You're also very sensitive and tingling from head to toe, especially just below the midriff.
"Are you okay now?"
"I think so. That's an... unusual... power."
"It's very helpful, though. Now, I still have about a cup size to work off, so do you want to try something fun?" She takes out an Erlenmeyer flask with a bubbling gold liquid in it.
"What is it?"
"It's not pee, if that's what you're thinking. No, it's a concoction I made up myself; I call it O! My God, with an emphasis on the 'O'. Wanna try some?"
"I suppose. Hand me the flask."
"Not so much." She takes a quick sip from it, then draws several deep breaths. "It's ready."
"Ready for what?"
"To drink, silly." She squeezes her nipple and a few golden drops come out. You know what the book says, "Blessed are the breasts that give thee suck."
"Huh?"
She pulls you down onto her breast so the nipple is in your mouth. There's a squirt of something that tastes something like champagne and something like chocolate. In moments you're sucking eagerly, each little squirt making you feel warm and safe and comfortable inside.
And then the orgasm hits.
Your world dissolves into a warm pink sea of pleasure which gets extended with each suckle. You're not squirting, but that doesn't stop the feeling of total euphoria that grabs you and holds you in the moment of passion for what feels like eternity. You're not sure when but you pass out.
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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