The Tattoo Is Making Sue Storm More Sensitive

Electro tried to crash Wall Street.

The Living Laser robbed the Gems Hall from the American Museum of Natural History.

The Gargoyle stole radioactive isotopes intended for cancer treatments.

Titania broke into Gracie Mansion and stole the mayor's sex tape.

Individually, each criminal and their scheme wasn't a terrible challenge. The Invisible Woman was powerful and experienced; with the support of the NYPD and S.H.I.E.L.D., Sue managed to keep on top of the superhuman crime wave. Some criminals escaped, but the bulk of the goods recovered, their schemes thwarted.

Yet it took its toll.

After three days on her feet, powered only by coffee and grit, Sue Storm was exhausted. The Night Nurse met her in the Baxter Building to change the dressing on her leg, the Black woman's mouth twisted in a worried frown.

"You're supposed to be resting," she insisted, taking into account the dark bags under Sue Storm's eyes. The full-body costume hung in tatters on the blonde heroine's frame, the unstable molecule fabric torn in places. Titania had nearly torn Sue's top off with one swipe, before the heroine had covered herself with invisible armor and bashed the super-strong villain into unconsciousness. "You need a proper meal, a shower, and sleep. More or less in that order."

"It's been going without let up," Sue said, resisting the urge to scratch her lower back. The SOW tattoo just above her ass was still a sore spot, but she had no time to deal with it. She had managed, barely, a few minutes to talk with Franklin and Valeria on the videophone. They were safe, doing well with their lessons. Wanted to know when they could come home.

Sue hadn't had an answer for them.

As if to prove her point, the radio crackled.

"Invisible Woman! The Wrecking Crew are attacking Trump Tower!"

The Night Nurse's hand came to rest on Sue Storm's. A warm flush went through Sue Storm's body at that brief human contact. All of a sudden her senses seemed to shift into high relief. The heroine became hyper-aware of the hospital-smell that clung to the Black woman, the gentle swell of her bosom through her nurse's uniform, her own aching, untouched sex. The Invisible Woman's head spun, slightly dizzy, surprised by the warmth that flooded her loins, the long pent-up need that was only now making itself known.

Never knowing that the nanites in the back tattoo had been slowly increasing her sensitivity to just such stimulus.

"You don't have to go," the Black woman said. "Please. Stay here. Rest."