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Chapter 7
How far do you go?
A trade: a show in exchange for information
A smirk spread across your face as a mischievous plan began formulating in your mind. "How about a deal, gentlemen?" you asked. "You tell me anything and everything important about the fella who owns this place, and I'll ... dance for you for as long as the information flows." You bit your lip seductively, making it obvious what kind of dance you were offering.
The two men glanced at each other again; the lust in their eyes was evident. Slowly, Gold Chains nodded, and the corner of his mouth curled upwards. "Aight, Nightie, show us what you got." Stupid Laugh gave a stupid laugh.
You stood up and swayed over to Gold Chains, holding your hand out for your batons. "If you don't mind ...?"
Hesitantly, he handed them over before sitting down next to his friend. "Start dancing, then, Nightie," he said.
Smirking, you began gently undulating your hips to the beat coming from below, allowing yourself to get lost a little in the rhythm. "Start talking, then, Mr 'King'," you said as your hands lightly caressed your bare midriff.
"Uh ..." Gold Chains hesitated, clearly distracted by the movement of your body.
"The guy who runs this place's called Sour Bill," Stupid Laugh started after a moment, although his eyes were locked on your ass. "He, uh ..."
"He's kinda small," Gold Chains continued. As he talked, you couldn't help noticing the bulge growing in his sweatpants. "Like, midget-small, and he's weird-ass, too."
Still listening, you kept dancing to the heavy thumping coming through the floor, and honestly you were starting to get more and more aroused from the two men's gazes; you swayed over to the bar, leant against it with your back to them and bent over a little, giving them an amazing view of your bikini-clad ass as you shook it from side to side. Irritated, you realized that they had gone silent, and you glanced over your shoulder. "Keep talking."
Stupid Laugh jumped slightly and shook his head. "Uh, yeah ..."
"Yeah, he's weird, man. We barely see him, but sometimes he just kicks everyone out and lets some nasty-ass chicks in -"
"Yeah, like, they've always got weird costumes on - I mean, a couple of them are hot, like that one who's always in that red jumpsuit -"
"Bit like you, Nightie. But not so much of the goody-two-shoes shtick," Gold Chains said.
You grinned inwardly as your hands teased the hem your bikini-bottoms. You've got to be kidding, no way is this a villainess hideout, you thought to yourself. "How many of these women are we talking about?" you asked. It was starting to become difficult to keep your mind on the interrogation; the heat in your loins was distracting, and your eyes kept straying to the bulges straining against their pants.
They glanced at each other. "I dunno, ten, fifteen?" Stupid Laugh said.
"Yeah, probs, but it changes, you know?" Gold Chains said.
You nodded, only half paying attention. In order to cool off a little, you pulled your bodysuit up over your head, throwing it onto the floor as you freed your tits. Stupid Laugh gaped at your perky boobs, and Gold Chains' eyes seemed to double in size. "So where can I find Sour Willy? Where does he hang out most of the time?" you asked.
"Uh ... Sour Bill's upstairs in his office, usually," Gold Chains said dazedly. "He's got the entire floor to himself."
You were starting to get the impression that you'd milked them for all they were worth, at least in the information department. Although judging by the erections straining against their pants, they had plenty that needed milking elsewhere. You giggled to yourself at the thought...
Reward them for their cooperativity?
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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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