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Chapter 11
by otx
What's next?
Into the holding area
You can feel Heather getting heavier as you go, and ordering the guards around is getting harder. You find a quiet boardroom-slash-lounge to stop in and lay Heather on the side sofa.
You gently shake her shoulders and hiss, "Come on Heather, wake up."
She groans and stirs, then her arms take hold of yours. "More, please. More." She kisses you, her tongue tasting and exploring your lips.
"Not the time, Heather. We have to escape."
"Yes, Mistress." Her hands trace the luscious warm curves of your breasts and there's still enough America's Milk in your system that it's getting you even more horny than it otherwise would.
"Heather... we have to... we have to..." You melt into emotional putty when she starts suckling. When her hand cups your ass-cheek and gives a little squeeze you're totally lost.
You spend the next while, you don't know how long, the two of you float together, you petting her breasts and her sucking yours. There's no orgasm involved but hell it feels good. Eventually you get together enough willpower to peel her away. Your tits want more.
You push your power on her. "Heather, focus. We have to save Meter Maid."
"Mmm. Chocolate milk."
"Good enough. Let's go."
With her awake it's easier going. Her silver monokini and pasties seem to give her super powers and the two of you can easily handle the pairs of guards you encounter, except it slows you down when she has to open every female guard's blouse and squeeze their breasts.
When you get to the holding area the guards stop acting on your presence. There are enough naked and semi-naked people in various states of mental zombification that you're actually not out of place. It seems more like a hotel than a prison, though the "rooms" are glass tubes so privacy isn't an option. You see Nurse Fetish inside one of the tubes 'treating' a woman with a feather; her victim is screaming enough harmonics and counter-harmonics to put an orchestra to shame. You see Kenny wearing a guard hat and gang-creaming on a woman who's enthusiastically rubbing the liquid into her... gills?
And then you see the baby. It's a cute little naked girl, maybe two months old, suckling at her mama's breast. She has a cute little tanned bum and just enough black hair to flow and shine, and her hands are adorable. Even her little sucking noises are absolutely adorable. You could watch her all day; being her mother must be the most wonderful feeling in the world. You spare a quick glance at the woman's face and it's you! You are, or at least your local equivalent is, the mother of the Most Interesting Baby in the World. You would love to hear the story, or better yet watch the porno, of that baby being conceived.
You and Heather are standing fascinated, faces pressed to the glass wall, when chains wrap tightly around you, pulling you backward by the crotch while pinning your arms in an uncomfortable position and painfully squeezing your breasts. You only stop looking at that adorable baby when your eyes are covered up by a metal blindfold that pulls your head backward while a rod gag shoves into your mouth and a foot-long ramrod impales your ass.
As the baby's spell wears off you realize you've been captured.
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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