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Chapter 14
by otx
What's next?
Tune-up
There's a burst of what looks and sounds like static and Doctor Syber appears in the arena. Her clothing consists of a lab coat, open at the front to reveal a human (-ish) torso and arms with etched-on wires and numerous metal devices protruding from her skin. Below the waist she's a nine-foot long mechanical snake; the only truly human-looking part of her is her head, with a reasonably attractive oriental face and wire-rimmed glasses that have a habit of sliding down her nose. She has gray hair, the only indication of her age, pulled back in a bun and speared by a pair of metal skewers that attach to her shoulders via flexible metal hoses.
She makes a hand gesture and your metal bits lock in position. You can still move your real body, but all the elements of your "costume" seem to be frozen in three-dimensional space. She slithers up as you squirm and pops off one of the nipple caps, leaving your breast free to bounce and jiggle.
"What are you doing?"
"Fine tuning. Now hush Child, this won't take a moment."
She makes a couple of tiny adjustments to the nipple cap and then puts it back in place, where it once again holds your tit in place. After that she pulls one of the two skewers out of her bun; the cable extends in length as she plugs the connecter end into the metal cap covering your clit. It feels like you're being electrocuted; the sensation only lasts a few seconds, but that's more than enough to elicit a scream.
"Hmm. There seems to be some kind of interference in the control system."
She shines a light on your abdomen, which turns semi-transparent and gray under the light. You can see the outlines of your internal organs. Her eyebrow raises.
"How silly of me; I should have checked for other objects."
You feel something moving inside your tunnel and feel a click. She then reaches down and grasps the G-string part of your outfit and pulls it out, along with the eight or nine inches that was inside you. As the final bit comes out in a sticky slop, there's a plastic object stuck to the end: your TITS device.
"You won't be needing this; the control system duplicates its function. Why did you even have one in? Do they use these devices on your... where you come from?"
You stare at her.
"That was a question, Child. Answer!"
Your nips feel like they've been exposed to open flames.
"Aghh! I got it here!"
The fire stops. She takes the device and attaches it to the probe that used to be on your clitoris; it holds the device up like a tentacle.
"Now, this should be better."
The G-string mecha-dildo in her hand starts a buzzing vibration. She slowly but forcefully slides the device back into your vagina, seemingly distracted and unaware of the effect of the vibrating thing entering you and teasing every inch along the way. You moan as she re-attaches the little metal cap to your clitoris; it's vibrating just as much as the rest of the device. Your slick juices are oozing around the edge of the insertion.
Once everything is in place the device stops vibrating. She turns to leave, then suddenly stops and whips her head around.
"This device is connected to a Y237-Protocol communicator. Where is it?"
"What are you talking about?"
"It has an open network connection to one of SourceForge's CUNT-Balls. Where is the ball?"
You say nothing; her impatience makes it clear that this is very important to her.
"WHERE IS THE CUNT-BALL?"
It feels like you're being **** and sodomized with knives and your nipples are burning again. Now you're screaming too much to answer. The thing up your ass starts wriggling as well, making the sensation more painfully intense.
The sensation continues for almost a minute then stops.
"Tell me, Child. Now." The look she gives you says more pain is coming if you don't.
"No."
Instead of pain, the devices in and on you start stimulate simple tactile nerves. Your hips start bucking of their own accord as the sense of pleasure builds and builds to...
...the most painful orgasm you've ever felt. It's worse than anything your brother ever did to you. When it's over you feel limp and exhausted; thoughts of pleasure and pain are running rampant in your overstimulated body.
"Tell me."
Your voice is tiny. "Nudge has it."
"Good. I will now reset your system so it's ready for your first real match."
The world goes black.
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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