Chapter 4
by otx
What's next?
Sniper
You hover around the twelfth storey, where you can generally think in piece. Two low for the fast flyers, too high for the street-watchers. Now, what the heck was just going on in there? Photon you've heard of, but this other guy? Strobe he called himself, a.k.a. Gordon, or Prick apparently. He said he and Photon were 'back' together, though you don't remember her having a partner from your hero-watching days.
Something wet splats into your thigh. It's white and viscous, like tapioca or... in this city it's got to be semen. Now how did it get way up here?
Your first thought is to look up, but there's nobody jacking off anywhere above you and the nearest building is almost a block away. You see a couple of fans watching you from a thirteenth (probably call it fourteenth) floor balcony; maybe they saw what happened. You start flying toward them.
Ploog! Right in the face! It's definitely semen (you can taste it), and it came from ahead of you. You narrow in on the two guys.
One of them has his hand down his pants and is gently rubbing; the other has his weapon out and is rapidly stroking its length. He jumps his hips forward and another glob hits you on the bare flesh in the tummy-ring of your costume.
Down-pants guy shouts "Bull's eye!" as you fly up.
"What are you two doing?"
Down-pants laughs. "Isn't it obvious? My buddy Jim – Cum Sniper – is trying out his super power."
That is definitely NCP material, unless you really need someone impregnated from a distance.
"Well stop it. Ow, that stings! How far can you shoot that stuff?"
Cum Sniper points. "See that girl?"
There's a vague shape on a building about three blocks away. Sniper's buddy hands you a pair of field glasses. "Okay, I see her." She's on her balcony in pink yoga pants and a matching sports bra doing stretches. She puts her hands behind her head and bends back.
"Button shot."
You hear a very faint supersonic crack. She jumps and grabs her navel, then seems to be stretching something sticky between her fingers. She looks around but doesn't notice you. Why would she? She bends over to pick up a towel...
Crack! She jumps upward as a wet spot appears dead center of her camel toe. She runs into her apartment and closes the balcony door.
"You two are totally sick."
"Hey, what am I doing?"
"You're encouraging him. And you, Jim, or Cum Sniper, or whatever idiot name you want to call yourself, are going to be put on the League's Sex Perpetrator Enhanced Risk Manifest! Expect visits from MALE heroes to keep tabs on you."
"You're putting me on the SPERM list? Just try it and you'll get this!"
He makes quick jerks of his member and it starts machine-gunning stinging drops of semen up and down your front. The hits are so hard and fast that you have to retreat a short distance.
After a short while Sniper wobbles to his knees. "I don't feel so good."
You scowl at him. "That's because you're shooting off too much fluid, Jerk. You're dehydrating. Now cut it out or I'll cut it off!"
"Come on, Jim, we better get you inside."
As they go in you fly over to the victim's apartment. She peeks out through the curtains when you knock on her balcony door. Her muffled voice comes through. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to tell you that there's a powered creep up here shooting sperm at people. It's mostly harmless, but disgusting. I'm reporting him to the League."
She opens the balcony door. "Th-thanks. Who are you?"
"Nudge."
The reaction is immediate; she gives a brief scream and runs away. You catch her at the bathroom door and she collapses to her knees shivering. "Please don't hurt me! My name isn't Trixie! Just take my clothes off here and don't leave me in public." She pulls her pants down, revealing a finely-toned ass.
"Calm down; that wasn't me, it was an imposter. My skin is darker, and my hair is real. Tug it."
She reaches up and gently tugs your hair, then more firmly. She's still trembling.
"So you're not going to strip me naked?"
"Not unless you ask me nicely. You should probably take a shower to wash that stuff off you."
She gulps. "Yeah, I should. Could you take my clothes off, please?"
You slide her yoga pants down and put them on the bathroom floor. Her sports bra follows. She is definitely hot, and a natural blonde if her short and curlies are anything to go by.
"There you go; time for your shower."
"Um, is your costume waterproof?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Maybe you should clean that stuff off too."
An hour later you fly out of her apartment; you're no wiser about Strobe, but you're definitely cleaner and more relaxed.
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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