Yes

You heard a group of women enter the house, their laughter echoing down the hallway—high-pitched, unrestrained, clearly intoxicated. They sounded drunk, at least that was the impression you got. You considered making a run for it, darting out of the house before they realized you were there. Surely you could make it past a few tipsy women; there couldn't be more than three, judging by the voices.

Then, the words you dreaded: “Girly, I’m just grabbing a jumper—need anything, hun?”

Oh no. Here you were, buried in her wardrobe, seconds away from being discovered and your entire life ruined. She would definitely call the police. They’d uncover all your past break-ins, all the things you’d stolen over the years. Imprisoned, your life ruined right before your eyes. You couldn’t let this happen.

Before you could make a decision, the wardrobe doors flew open, and there she stood—a girl about your age, staring at you in disbelief.

She was stunning, almost unreal. You recognized her instantly from the portrait you’d seen earlier. Her ginger hair cascaded past her shoulders, framing her face perfectly. Her emerald-green eyes sparkled, drawing you in, and your gaze drifted down her body. A delicate golden chain hung around her neck, more valuable than anything you’d ever taken. She wore a fitted white dress that clung to her curves, stopping just above her thighs, and tall leather boots that hugged her legs up to the knee.

“Oh my god, what are you wearing?” She let out a laugh, barely able to contain herself.

You were mortified. Instead of screaming or calling for help, she seemed amused, even mocking you. You chalked it up to the ****, but something told you she simply didn’t see you as a threat. As you stood there, dumbfounded, you forgot to respond.

“Hellooo,” she said, leaning in with a smirk. “Are you supposed to be a superhero?” She giggled again, and then continued, “The mighty Mr. Spandex! Or maybe… Spandex Boy!” This time, she dissolved into laughter.

Frustration bubbled up, and you couldn’t help but blurt out, “I’m a man, not a boy!”

“Oooh, Spandex-Man, my mistake,” she replied, her grin widening. “Although superheroes don’t usually hide in women’s closets. Maybe you’re the evil… panty sniffer?”

She tilted her head, the teasing intensifying. You felt humiliated, trapped. Her mockery was relentless, leaving you floundering for words, unable to speak coherently.

Your heart sank. Of course, you weren’t doing that. You were just hiding. A simple cat burglar, not some pervert. But as you opened your mouth to defend yourself, she raised a single finger, silencing you with ease.

“Shhh. It’s okay, panty sniffer,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm, still mocking you. “I think it’s honestly pathetic—breaking into a woman’s house, wearing that ridiculous outfit. You even had the nerve to take off your shoes. But you know what’s really pathetic, Spandex-Boy?” She leaned closer, her smile sharp. “The fact that you can’t even talk, let alone push past me and escape. You’re frozen. Completely helpless. It’s actually… adorable.”

Your legs were rooted to the spot. You were paralyzed, humiliated, entirely at her mercy.

“Well, Spandex-Boy,” she purred, “I think it’s time I had some fun with you.”