Go official, or stay secret sluts?

They barely made it through the bank robbery without causing a different kind of crime wave.

Some punk with a freeze gun got one look at Karen’s barely-there leotard and dropped his weapon to adjust himself. Kara giggled—actually giggled—before slamming him into a wall.

And then she had nearly lost focus when a hostage licked his lips at her and muttered "Damn, Super Slut ain't playin'..."

Now, back at the Hall, Raven was giving them that look—the one that said "I am surrounded by idiots, but also your tits are distracting me."

"You’re deteriorating faster than I predicted," she said flatly, her shadow tendrils flicking like an annoyed cat’s tail. "At this rate, you’ll be fully converted before Zatanna gets back."

Karen crossed her arms—which just made her tits push up even more. "So what’s the play, Raven? Because I’m not introducing myself as Power Pussy on live TV."

Raven’s lips thinned. "You have two choices. One: announce your new names publicly. Make it official. That’ll satisfy Aphrodite’s magic enough to slow the changes."

Kara shuddered. The thought of standing in front of the Daily Planet, cameras flashing, microphones thrust in her face—

"I’m Super Slut, here to service Metropolis~"

Fuck. Her thighs squeezed together at the idea.

"Option two," Raven continued, eyeing the way Kara’s skirt barely contained the damp spot forming between her legs, "is more... hands-on."

Karen groaned. "Oh, hell no."

"You’d have to live up to your names. Frequently."

Silence.

Then—

"...Define frequently," Kara whispered.

Raven’s eyes glowed. "As in, daily. As in, if you’re Power Pussy, you’d better be letting someone use that pussy. And if you’re Super Slut..."

She didn’t have to finish.

The room felt hotter suddenly. Kara’s piercings ached. Karen’s breathing hitched, her fingers twitching toward her exposed slit.

Wonder Boobs—who’d been quietly fondling herself in the corner—chuckled. "Or you could just embrace it like I did. Look at me! I’m happy!"

Karen and Kara exchanged glances.

"No," they said in unison.

But Raven wasn’t done. "There’s a third option."

They perked up.

"You don’t choose. The magic chooses for you. And given how wet you both are just talking about this..."

Oh.

Oh no.

Karen swallowed hard. "So... we either go full slut mode, or we admit we’re sluts to the entire world?"

"Yes."

Kara whimpered.

Because both options sounded way too good.

Karen made her choice.

Of course she did. Power Pussy strutted right up to the Justice League press podium, her barely-there leotard leaving nothing to the imagination, and announced—with a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes—

"Starting today, I'm retiring the old name. You can call me... Power Pussy."

The room exploded. Reporters scrambled, cameras flashed, and somewhere, miles away in her divine realm, Aphrodite purred in delight.

Supergirl stood in the back, squeezing her thighs together, her plumped, pierced nipples stiff under my skintight top.

Raven was right. The moment the words left Karen’s lips, Kara saw the change. The magic in Karen loosened its grip—just a little. Karen was still Power Pussy, still dripping from the mere act of declaring it, but she was herself again.

And then—

“What about you, Supergirl?” Some sleaze from the Gazette shoved a mic in Kara’s face. “Got a new name to match your new… look?”

Too many eyes on her. Too many hungry stares tracing the pierced outlines beneath her top, the scandalous slit of her skirt.

“No,” Kara snapped—too fast, too ****. “I’m still Supergirl.”

The lie burned like fire in her throat, and God, the magic reacted.

A fresh wave of slick heat coated Kara’s thighs. Her cunt clenched around nothing, begging to be filled. Raven had warned her—denial would only make it worse.

And oh, it was getting so much worse.