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Chapter 10
by otx
What's next?
Enhanced
"Masturbate. With all you've got."
Both guards drop their weapons and their pants in quick succession. Both of them start jerking frantically, one with the heel of his hand sliding up and down his shaft, the other using his thumb and forefinger as a fucking loop. Neither of them tries to stop you as you walk past. The same command works on the next two guards; one does the classic cupped-hand jerk and the other dry-humps the hallway chair. With you powered up like this, it's just too easy.
"Hold it right there!"
Just outside the infirmary are another pair of guards, this time a man and a woman. They're pulling out a pair of guns each and that gives you an idea.
You point at the male guard. "Suck her tits." Then you point at the female guard. "Stop him."
Four guns fall to the floor and the two start wrestling; he's trying to pull her top off and she's trying to prevent him.
You watch for a half-minute (he's winning, though slowly) and then step into the infirmary area.
There are over a dozen people in sight: some caregivers, some patients. According to CB's information, Heather is in Treatment Room A. People are turning toward you with worried expressions.
"No need to panic, people, everyone just do a strip-tease and you'll be fine."
To your mild surprise it works. On all of them. You easily walk past the mob of people slowly and seductively undressing and slide open the treatment room door.
Heather is lying face-down on the examination table clad in what could only be called a bikini if you were feeling charitable and sleeping peacefully. A woman wearing the hat, skirt, and shoes of an nurse's uniform is standing by her.
The nurse turns to you angrily. "You can't have her; she's mine!"
"No she isn't. She's coming with me." You concentrate your power. "Now stand there and play with your tits."
She does as told, and to your mild surprise starts squirting drops of milk. A fine spray strikes your face and you subconsciously lick your lips. It tastes sort of like chocolate and wine.
Danger, Nudge, I'm detecting euphorics and will-suppressing chemicals in the milk.
Super-milk? How bad is it?
A good solid drink would leave you a helpless **** to her will. What you've ingested so far should not be a problem.
What about Heather?
Unknown.
You glower at Nurse Nipples. "How much of that did you give Heather?"
"You mean Silver Sting? Enough to totally knock her out and make her my **** when she awakens and I say the word."
"That isn't going to happen, bitch."
"I don't know, she should wake up any time now."
"Then Heather and I are leaving. You finger yourself - one hand in each hole - until we're long gone."
"I'm not going to do that!" She puts one hand under her skirt from the front and the other from the back. "Let my body go, you witch!"
"I'm going to have the gag you, aren't I?"
You push your ass into her face and command the two tattoos to do their business on her. A moment later a tattoo of a dick growing out of the tip of her nose is busily humping her vagina-inked mouth. She's looking daggers at you as you pick up Heather's **** body and leave the room.
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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