Very Very Lucky

As I make my way through the quiet streets, the distant sound of gunshots pierces the night. A surge of adrenaline kicks in, the hero instinct that's been a part of me for as long as I can remember. But this time, I hesitate. I'm caught in an internal tug-of-war, battling between the duty that's defined me and the new, bizarre urge to serve Mark's whims above all else.

He doesn't even know he owns me yet. Would he want me to intervene, to play the hero? Or does he have other plans for me? My usual resolve falters; I can't assume anything. The priority is to introduce myself to him, to find out what he desires, be it my body or my obedience. And if he wants me to let the city burn, I'd watch it light up the sky without so much as a flinch.

I arrive at his place, a modest two-story house that's seen better days. The paint's peeling, and there's a light on in the upstairs window. Taking a deep breath, I approach and knock on the door. It swings open, and there he is, Mark, in his pajamas, looking every bit the dork I saved earlier.

He blinks at me, obviously confused. "Can I help you?" he asks, his voice unsteady.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "I'm gonna make this simple for you, Mark. I'm Volt Vixen," I say, my voice low and steady. "And because of that messed-up ray when I was saving your ass, I'm yours now. Whatever you want, I'll do it. No questions asked. Lucky you, huh?"

Stepping into his dimly lit living room, I can't help but feel a little out of place. Mark's still gaping at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. I've got to give him something to work with, some proof that I am who I say I am. It's now or never.

I glance around quickly, ensuring we're alone and away from prying eyes. Then, in a spark of electricity, I let my body shift back into the form he'd recognize from the news or the net—the infamous Volt Vixen. My costume clings to me, the cobalt blue and electric yellow of my suit vivid against the dullness of his living room. My goggles now sit atop my head, and my spiked black hair frames my face.

"See? It's really me," I say, my voice firm but patient.

Mark takes a step back, his eyes wide behind those glasses of his. "I-I don't… Are you interrogating me? Is this a test?" He stammers, his confusion palpable.

I let out a sigh, trying to keep my impatience in check. "No, Mark. No tests, no interrogation. Just a very strange twist of fate. That ray screwed with my head, and now it seems I've got this compulsion to… well, to be yours."

He blinks, processing the information. "Mine? As in… you'll do whatever I say?"

"Yeah, that's about the size of it," I reply, feeling a strange sense of calm admitting it out loud. "So what's it gonna be, Mark? What do you want from me?"

Mark's gaze trails over me unabashedly, taking in the contours of my body showcased by my skin-tight suit. I can't help but wonder if he's itching for me to take the lead, to press my curves against him and show him the kind of pleasure only a super can provide. Yet, I hold back, waiting for him to voice his desires.

After a moment that feels like an eternity, he clears his throat, his cheeks tinged with red. "I can't just… take advantage of you," he mumbles, his eyes briefly meeting mine before darting away. "If that ray messed with your mind when you saved me, it'd be wrong not to try and help you now." His voice is earnest, almost pleading. "Do you know of any way to get your mind back to normal?"

A wave of relief washes over me, and I can't help but crack a smile. It's comforting to know that his intentions align with what the old me would've wanted. "You're a decent guy, Mark," I joke, trying to lighten the mood. "Most wouldn't have hesitated to take the offer."

He nods, a chuckle escaping him, but his eyes linger on my chest a moment too long. I frown slightly, wondering if deep down, that's what he really craves, or if he's just compelled to do 'the right thing.'

Hesitating, I say, "You know, you don't have to play the hero here, Mark. If you don't want to…"

He swallows hard, his gaze flickering with uncertainty. That's all the confirmation I need. I step closer, letting my powers subtly enhance my bust and hips, making them even more voluptuous. "So, Mark," I purr, my voice dropping an octave, "what do you really, really want right now? Because whatever it is, that's exactly what I'm here to give you."

I can't help but laugh at his hesitation, the way he's practically devouring me with his eyes while trying to play the knight in shining armor. "Mark, let's get one thing straight," I start, my tone laced with the raw frankness I'm known for. "What I want is what you want. If you want to play the nice guy and help me get back to my old self, then that's what we'll do. And sure, my old self will be damn grateful. But if you want to explore this body, to enjoy it… well, that's a job for my new self."

I lean in closer, my green eyes locking with his. "You've got a choice here, and it's not one to take lightly. Get me back to normal, and it's back to your everyday life. But if you take me, keep me as yours, I'll be just that—yours. No questions asked."

He's visibly conflicted, the right and wrong waging war in his head. I place my hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. "Remember, I'm not here to judge you," I assure him, my voice a purr of temptation. "No one else knows what's going on here. It's your choice, and there won't be any negative repercussions. If you help me, I'll be grateful and out of your hair. If you don't…" I trail off, letting the implication hang in the air.

I watch the struggle in his eyes, the way his gaze flicks down to my now even more pronounced cleavage. I've made my point clear—it's entirely up to him. Whatever he decides, I'm at peace with it. Because right now, I'm not just Volt Vixen; I'm his to command.

There's a heaviness in the air as Mark collapses onto his ratty old couch, his eyes still locked on me. He rubs the back of his neck, looking for all the world like he's trying to solve the most complicated puzzle of his life.

"If—if—I decided to keep you," he stresses the word, "we don't even know if this thing is permanent. I don't want to be on the receiving end of a super-powered ass-kicking if you suddenly snap out of it."

He's got a point. I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe, mulling it over. "You're right. It's a risk. Dr. Mind's rays are notorious for being… sticky. They tend to leave a lasting impression unless they're properly reversed. But to be sure, I could track down the exact ray that hit me, get my hands on it. Hell," I pause, the idea solidifying in my mind, "if you want, I could even bring it back here. You could use it on me some more… or on someone else if that's your thing."

I can practically see the wheels turning in his head, the concept both terrifying and tantalizing him. His gaze flits between my eyes and the full swell of my breasts, the internal struggle playing out across his face.

It's clear as day—he wants me. But the fear of the unknown, of the consequences, it's got him by the balls. When he finally admits it, voice barely above a whisper, "I… I want you, but I'm scared," I can't help but step forward, closing the space between us.

"Mark, you can keep me. I'm here, telling you to take what you want. And sure, maybe I've been brainwashed to want it, but the fact is, I want what you want. If you want me, I want you to have me. Simple as fuck!"

Mark's chuckle cuts through the tension like a knife through butter, his gaze still roaming over the curves of my body. "So, what now?" he asks, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. It's obvious he's savoring the thought of all the things he could do with me.

I can't help but smirk, leaning back against the wall with a playful glint in my eye. "Well, you've got options, Mark. You could have me as your cute girlfriend, though 'cute' ain't exactly my style, but I can fucking learn. Or I could be your personal fuck toy—yeah, I'm a lesbian, but for you, I'll make an exception. Hell, I could be both, or neither. Want me to dress up as a French maid and lick the floor—or your cock—clean? It's all on the table, whatever you want."

He stares at me for a long, silent moment, his decision hanging in the air. Then, with a voice that's more command than question, he finally says, "Get naked. Blow me."

I ain't turned on, and to be honest, the guy doesn't do a thing for me, but this is what he wants, so it's what I'm going to give him. With a thought, my clothes ripple and disappear, my body now bare before him. I reach for his pants, fumbling a bit as I pull his cock out. It's not a task I'm used to, but his growing arousal makes things easier.

Bending down, I wrap my lips around him, taking him into my mouth. My movements are clumsy, inexperienced, but I'm driven by the desire to please him. I use my tongue awkwardly, trying to remember how those porn scenes go, all the while feeling his hands thread through my spiked hair, urging me on.

I work diligently on his shaft, using my mouth and tongue to coax him closer to the edge. It doesn't take long before he's there, his body tensing and a low groan escaping his lips as he blows his load. His cum splatters across my tits, warm and sticky against my skin. As he pants, trying to catch his breath, I feel nothing but satisfaction. It's like the end of a mission well done—another task checked off the list.

I sit back on my heels, looking up at him as he slumps further into the couch, spent and still in a bit of shock from the experience. I can't help but smirk. "Not too bad for a first-timer, huh?" I quip, my voice dripping with the same confidence I'd use when I've just kicked some villain's ass. My body feels a strange kind of triumph, a sense of accomplishment in fulfilling his desire. I'm Volt Vixen, hero of the night, but in this moment, I'm whatever the hell he wants me to be—and I'm damn good at it.

Mark lets out a laugh, a sound that seems to ease the remaining tension in the room. "Never thought something like this would ever happen to me," he says, shaking his head in disbelief, though his hungry eyes never stray far from the sight of my cum-splattered tits.

I grin back at him, wiping a stray streak of cum from my skin. "Neither did I, but I gotta say, I hope you're enjoying the perks of your new… acquisition," I quip, my voice dripping with that dark humor of mine.

We hold each other's gaze, the weight of our bizarre situation settling around us like a thick fog. It's a strange kind of understanding, a silent agreement that we're both just trying to navigate this fucked-up turn of events.

Then, the sharp beep of my communicator cuts through the silence. I don't move, just let it ring out. I explain to Mark, "That's my call to go play hero. Save the day, all that shit." But I don't budge, waiting for his command, showing him the ball's in his court now.

He nods, a serious look crossing his face. "Go," he says firmly. "If we're gonna do… whatever this is, we can't raise suspicions. Keep doing your superhero thing."

As I'm about to leave, he throws me a curveball. "Were you serious about that girlfriend experience you mentioned?" he asks, a curious tilt to his voice.

I chuckle, "Hell yeah, I was serious. Why?"

He fidgets with his glasses, then admits, "Got a family gathering this weekend. Showing up with a hot girl like you would blow their damn minds."

I laugh, loud and genuine. "I'd be glad to blow their minds—and anything else that needs blowing," I say with a wink. I jot down my private number, slide it across the table to him. "Remember, I'm yours. Whatever, whenever." With one last smirk, I turn on my heel and head out to save the day, leaving behind a man with the power to call on Volt Vixen for whatever his heart—or other parts—desires.