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Chapter 13
by fyreant
Can you bag this transparent tramp?
You give her some rough handling right back [mild F/F]
"What the bl- DID YOU JUST THROW PISS AT ME?!" the aggrieved female voice demands in an angry screech. A few of the young men leaning in a bit too close to watch suddenly had their heads jerk to the side with a *sock!* and a *pow!*, and the others take several steps back... whether because of the risk of getting hit by flailing invisible fists, or because of what she'd said, or more likely, both.
In fact, the exodus away from the invisible lady has caused most of those schoolgirls who'd been hanging 'round earlier to get crushed up against several businessmen (and each other) as the boys who'd been gawking backed right into them. Embarrassed gasps and yelps fill the air as perky young breasts are pushed up against suit jackets and butts barely covered by short skirts are thrust against the outstretched hands of other unsteady schoolgirls.
In your current frame of mind, you decide in an instant that causing several much milder cases of train molestation through collateral damage is WELL WORTH it, if it means stopping a single much worse ****. Like allowing a few cars to get blown up if it means rescuing a single hostage at gunpoint who will surely die... except with breast-and-ass groping.
"No, it wasn't. That was just iced tea." you say with a sneer. "It's Mood Ring's brand, 'Yellow Temperance'. You know, on the billboards?" You shake a bottle in front of her and then toss it right at her, bonking off her head but doing little damage due to having already been emptied.
"Tea? You're telling me this reeking, yellow discharge is supposed to be TEA? It smells and feels like diabetic urine!" She shakes her head rapidly and sprays it all away, clearing her eyes and getting it off her. "You stupid, stupid girl. Did you think that that was going to let you see me?" Her eyes squeeze closed again, leaving only her sneering mouth chattering in midair. "If any minute substance getting smudged or dusted on me was enough to make me visible, I'd need a bloody clean suit to go anywhere without looking like Gaspar Poe the Unhygenic Ghost!" She licks her lips, then immediately regrets it and spits out droplets of the tea. "Now I can see where you are. I want to get back to my dear lovely kitten as quickly as possible, so I'm going to hurt you very, very badly indeed in these next few seconds."
You don't say a word but just pose side-on to her, pushing out your chest covered in tight black fabric and giving those slobs a chance to appreciate that the League wanted their security guards to look almost as slutty as their more famous members. You do, however, hold out your baton in a challenging gesture.
"I'm going to clip your wings and give you a-" the transparent tramp says while walking forward, but is interrupted by a sharp "YEEOWW-UGH!" The sound of a flesh colliding painfully hard with a hard surface can be heard and a splash of tea is thrown up from its impact on the ground.
"Yeah," you say, blushing and feeling quite pleased with yourself, "I knew your power worked on other things in contact with your body, because I could hear the scraping sound of those stiletto heels you're wearing when you moved. Not a good idea to try and walk in those monstrosities over a slippery surface with your eyes closed, is it?"
With a blur you toss your nightstick right at where she lies - it bounces off something with a satisfying yelp of pain and surprise, causing those eyes to flicker open again... just in time to see you performing a full body tackle on her.
A quick, sloppy ground-bound melee ensues. The spilled tea (it actually does smell and taste pretty bad, but they give it out for free, and your mom had always taught you never to let things go to waste) gets all over you, soaking your chest as the villainess almost slips away from you right away. But you manage to catch one of her feet, and anticipate the sharp-heeled kick coming back your way, dodging to the side. It still gets you in the shoulder and hurts - but you have your other baton drawn and at the ready.
It comes down and stops in midair with a pronounced jiggle. Bullseye. The female voice shrieks and yowls in indignation again.
Two, three, four, five times - the hard length of plastic comes down on an invisible ass again and again. In contrast to the FIRST invisible woman you had fought, this one was clearly quite a bit skinnier - which meant that her butt had that much less cushioning to absorb the long, flat strokes you were putting across it, more than hard enough to bruise.
"Spare the rod, spoil the... heheh!" one of the young men watching chuckles loudly, drawing several other upbeat laughs from around him. Without looking you yell back at him: "Shut up! You didn't help, you don't get to make quips! Damn it!" You punctuate your words with more utterly merciless ass-lashings and them wrap your hands around her thighs. She is quite pinned to the ground now, unable to say much but whimper for mercy.
"I'm... I'm Cheshire Huntress... you'll regret this," she says in between self-pitying weeping. You slap a pair of cuffs on her ankles - and THOSE aren't small enough to fade to invisibility. Painfully wrenching her arms behind her, your arms spread like that ends up showing off your unintended 'wet t-shirt' look to anyone looking, calling attention to your firm d-cup breasts and the fact that you'd been too distracted to pick out a bra today. But it was worth it - now you were going to be showing up to work with a prize to show for it! The damn cops can wait - there is no way you are handing this "Cheshire" bitch over to them without dragging her in to show them, first!
How does the checkpoint react as you're heading in/
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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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