Free story: “The Game Master’s League of Superpowered Breast Lovers: Week Two”

Here’s the second week of this story’s game! Enjoy it while it’s up, when the story is finished I’ll be taking it down to post it as an Ebook.

If you want to read the story in its current entirety click HERE.

Week Two First Place

An abandoned warehouse loomed before Brickhouse. Most of the building’s windows were either boarded up or broken. The garbage and rubble all around the property gave the impression that a human being hadn’t set foot on the property in years.

But the hulking red skinned heroine knew that looks could be deceiving. All the intelligence the Megatropolis Amazons had gathered said that a small T.A.R.G.E.T. cell was setting up shop here. The city was aflame with rumors of the scientifically advanced terrorist organization slowly infiltrating the city and trying to turn it into a regional hub for their operations.

At that very moment her teammates Archbaroness and Champion Girl were at other locations rumored to be staging grounds for T.A.R.G.E.T.’s new operations in the city. The plan was to try and strike fast, knocking out their advanced staging areas before the group could get a foothold in the city.

Brickhouse watched the building, searching for any sign of movement from inside. She didn’t see any but that didn’t mean anything. T.A.R.G.E.T. was very good at keeping their cells hidden. They were a well financed terrorist organization, armed with technology far beyond what was publicly available and often beyond what was thought possible. The group was incredibly dangerous and normally taking on one of their bases took the full team of superheroines that Brickhouse was part of. But they expected only two or three T.A.R.G.E.T. members in each of these bases and expected them to be lightly armed.

“If they are in there I should be able to take them out with ease,” Brickhouse mumbled to herself. She was incredibly confident in herself. She stood over seven feet tall and every inch of her red skinned body was covered in thick, superhuman muscles. She had more brute strength than any other superheroine in the city and on top of that she was so physically tough that most bullets would simply bounce of her. Piercing her skin was nearly impossible, only accomplished with sharpened Eudium, an incredibly rare and expensive synthetic metal.

Her raw power made it so she could easily punch and plow her way through nearly any challenge. And that was just what she intended to do during this mission. She gave the building an intense glare then leaned forward with one arm out before her, her elbow bent like a battering ram. Brickhouse then took off running, dashing fast and hard towards the front of the warehouse. She crashed through the wall as if it was made of tissue paper, the obstacle exploding out before her, becoming little more than a cloud of pulverized rubble.

Brickhouse had expected to be met by immediate attack of some kind, perhaps blasts form the energy weapons the T.A.R.G.E.T. troopers preferred to use. But as the dust settled around her she realized that even though they had been right about the location of this cell these T.A.R.G.E.T. agents weren’t going to be attacking her. There were three of them and each one was sprawled out on the floor, unconscious.

“It seems someone beat me here,” she said, scratching her head and looking down at the nearest T.A.R.G.E.T. trooper.

“That would be me,” an unseen figure said loudly. The voice was strange, deep and crackly and spoken as if through a microphone that was giving off too much distortion. The distortion made the voice sound inhuman and artificial.

Brickhouse whirled around to face the direction the voice had come from. A large, muscular man stepped out from behind a pile of crates. He wore a tight red and black bodysuit over his well muscled frame. He was a bald white man with strange looking eyes that seemed to faintly glow. Brickhouse quickly realized the eyes were not real, but were instead some kind of cybernetic implants.

Over the man’s lower face was a thick black breathing mask, straps of which wrapped around the back of his head. His skin seemed to be fused with the mask, making it seem like more of an implant that just a mask. It was clear that this was why his voice was so distorted, a fact that was only further confirmed by the strange rasping breath that came from the apparatus.

“Who are you?” Brickhouse asked. She stood her ground and clenched her fists but she didn’t raise her arms. This man was clearly a superhuman, he was too bulky to be a normal man. And the costume he wore implied he had powers as well, no one but superheroes or supervillains went around dressed that way. But she had no idea what side of the law he stood on.

“I am called Crimson Cyborg,” the man said in his strange, distorted voice. As he spoke he started walking slowly towards Brickhouse, cracking his neck and knuckles as he did so.

“Are you a new superhero in town? Is that why you took these T.A.R.G.E.T. goons out?” Brickhouse’s voice betrayed the skepticism she felt. There was something about the man that made him feel like a villain… The way he carried himself. The way his strange artificial eyes looked at her. It was all too predatory.

He chuckled, the distorted laugh sounding menacing through the mask on the man’s face. “I did take them out. It was easy. But no, I did not do it because I am a new superhero in this cesspool of a city.” As he spoke he kept striding towards Brickhouse.

She lifted her fists now, preparing for a fight. The man was clearly trying to intimidate her and it wasn’t working. “Then why did you take them down?”

“Because I knew one of you big titted bimbos would be showing up here to take them down too. How do you think word started to spread that they were setting up shop in town? I got a few new augmentations from them then ratted them out. All so I could get the drop on someone like you.”

“Well you’ve wasted the element of surprise,” Brickhouse scoffed. As soon as she was done speaking she lunged forward, throwing a wild haymaker at the man.

Crimson Cyborg seemed to have predicted the attack and with startling speed managed to bend back and dodge the blow. The way he bent back was unsettling, bending back past the point other people could bend. Clearly his cybernetic implants went as deep as his spinal cord.

His body quickly sprung back up, moving in towards Brickhouse as she stumbled forward after her blow missed. Crimson Cyborg reached up and grabbed hold of Brickhouse’s short dark red hair, jerking her head painfully back. At the same time he pressed her body down and bent it forward so he could jam his knee up into her gut with enough force to knock the air out of the towering superheroine.

A moment later his other hand was around her neck, squeezing tight enough to cut off the flow of any air into her chest. He lifted her up off her feet, something only someone incredibly strong could manage since she was so dense and heavy.

Brickhouse had to fight to breath. She was choking, her eyes opened wide in surprise at her opponent’s raw strength. Astoundingly he seemed to be as strong as her, maybe even stronger. She started to strike the single arm that held her by the throat but blow after blow failed to do as much as bend his elbow. She tried to kick at him but he responded by using his free hand to uppercut her cunt, the pain of the blow knocking most of the fight out of her.

“Pathetic,” he rasped, looking up at her. “I had thought one as strong as you would have been able to actually put up a fight.”

Brickhouse made desperate gasping sounds as she tried in vain to breathe. Her head was starting to sway from side to side, her eyelids growing heavy as the lack of air started to make her feel faint. Soon she started to see stars and stopped struggling, her body no longer responding to her mental commands. As her body went limp and she started to fade from conciseness she realized there was no hope of escape.

It was then that she felt a sharp needle press into her neck. Something was injected into her and then Crimson Cyborg let go, letting her drop down onto her feet as he took a step back. Looking at his hand she could see a Eudium needle (the only metal that could be made sharp enough to pierce her skin) sticking out of his palm, then saw it retract back into his hand as she gasped hungrily for air, her vision clearing.

As soon as she had regained her breath her impulse was to strike at her opponent, to strike hard and fast to gain an advantage over him. But as her mind commanded her body to act she found her body was refusing to do what it was told. Instead of lunging forward and throwing superpowered blows at her enemy she stood still, her arms at her side. She swayed from side to side, feeling dizzy and weak even as her lungs were once more filled with enough air.

She was having a hard time keeping her eyes focused. Clearly the needle had injected some kind of drug that was now weakening her. Finally the growing weakness she was feeling combined with her extreme dizziness and led her to topple forward and fall down onto her knees with a pathetic and very un-heroic moan of defeat. A moment later, feeling even weaker, she fell down onto her hands and knees.

The world felt like it was spinning so wildly around her she had to momentarily close her eyes. Her head hung down and was moving from side to side as she tried to keep her balance and stop from collapsing.

Once she managed to center herself she opened her eyes and looked up at Crimson Cyborg. She found it hard to focus on him. He was standing just before her, staring down at her. His expression was impossible to read since most of his face was covered, only his strange artificial eyes were left exposed and they were unreadable.

“Drugged… me…” she mumbled up at him, fighting to at least remain up on her hands and knees.

For a moment Crimson Cyborg stared at her with his strange eyes, unmoving and unspeaking. Then, silently and with the smooth motions of a predatory animal, he moved forward, lifting his leg up and over her body as he turned around. In the end he was left standing over her back, facing the same direction as her.

Brickhouse immediately started to try and crawl away from him. But she was so weak and disoriented that her movements were painfully slow. She managed to move only a few feet away when she felt Crimson Cyborg take a few steps forward to stand above her again.

Except now he lowered his body down so that he was practically sitting on her shoulders. He grabbed her by the hair with his left hand, pulling her head back and to the side. With horror looked back and she saw that the man had pulled his cock out of his costume and that it was already hard! Hard and large and looking strange as he held it in his right hand, as if it too has been cybernetic augmented.

She snarled in disgust at the sight but he quickly silenced her by moving his crotch closer to her head and smacking her in the face with his thick hard cock. She made a sound of disgust in response. He responded by smacking her in the face with his meaty cock, hard and fast, over and over again. He then started pressing his cockhead into her cheek, rubbing it from side to side and smearing sticky slimy precum over her face.

He slid his cock down towards her mouth and started forcing it between her closed lips. As his thick throbbing cock invaded the weakened heroine’s mouth Crimson Cyborg stepped over her, repositioning his body so that he was squatting before her. As he forced his cock into her mouth he pulled on her hair and lifted her up onto her knees so that he could stand straight as he started fucking her face, forcing his cock deeper and deeper into her mouth till it was pressing into her throat.

“This hard cock on your nearly worthless face and now invading your throat is your pussy’s wakeup call,” he growled at her in his strange voice.

“I used to be a member of the military,” he continued, starting to explain why he was doing this to her, two hands on her head holding it place as he fucked her face. “I was part of the top secret unit that worked on ways to defend against superhuman threats. Right now all of you genetically degenerate freaks keep yourselves busy playing superhero and supervillain, but the military is prepared for the day you monsters decide to throw your powers behind some kind of anti-American political cause.

“I volunteered for the experimental cybernetic augmentations they were perfecting to help normal decent humans combat people with powers. As they made me better, stronger, more powerful they trained me to fight women like you. I learned what a threat you could be, learned to fear and hate you. Then I learned all about the weakness you all have, the shameful supercharged libidos you are all cursed with.

“They augmented me in every way, both to beat you in a fight AND to take advantage of your sexual weaknesses. But these last augmentations left me with the same curse you all have: an overpowering, insatiable sexual appetite. I was unable to control my urges and was thrown out of the program.

“I was left with a body designed to defeat superheroines and a libido that wanted to fuck all day. And one more thing: an intense hatred of you fucking cunts. It’s because of you I was changed into this thing I am now. It’s because of you that I can’t look at a woman and not get hard and want to fuck till I’m exhausted. So I vowed to make each and every one of you pay. Hero or villain, I’d take my hatred out by fucking you all as often as I could.”

As he monologued, explaining what he was and what drove him, he kept hold of her head as he humped her face. Brickhouse gagged and choked on his cock rammed into her mouth and down her throat over and over again. Thick strings of saliva dripped off his cock, ran down her face. Tears streamed from her eyes.

There was a look of despair in her eyes as she took the man’s cock over and again. Yes, she was fucked frequently by her enemies, but usually only after she had been knocked out or after she had been aroused to the point that she was taking an active part in the sex. She wasn’t used to feeling so helpless and overpowered during sex. There were few that were as strong as her, few able to do what was being done to her.

And the worst part was his cock HAD been a wakeup call to her pussy. As soon as she saw it her body started to crave sexual release. As he had rubbed it on her face she had felt pussy throbbing, growing moist. Even now as he painfully rammed his cock down her throat, her hands were on her crotch, lightly rubbing at her clit through the damp fabric of the black leotard that served as her costume. Yet even though she was playing with herself this felt like something being done TO her, not something she was taking part in.

Eventually he let go of her head, stepping back slightly from her and letting his saliva covered cock fall from her mouth. Without speaking a word he leaned down, grabbed her costume, and began tearing it off of her. The sleeveless and legless black leotard was soon nothing but tattered fabric on the ground around her. She wore no panties but did have a bra on, one that looked like a sports bra but seemed to be made of a strange, semi-metallic material.

Crimson Cyborg grabbed her bra and moved to tear it apart but found the material was too strong for him to rend open. He grunted in annoyance and tried harder but found that the fabric seemed to be impervious to any kind of tearing or ripping.

As if to sooth his frustrations he moved in closer and rammed his cock back into her mouth. “Suck, you stupid cunt, or I’ll make you pay,” he growled angrily as he went back to trying to rip her bra open. After a few more frustrating moments he gave up and instead moved to simple take it off, grabbing it by the bottom and starting to lift it up and over her breasts, all while he kept fucking her mouth. It took a lot of effort and he realized the bra was so tight that only one nearly as strong as he was would be able to remove it.

Her breasts looked large compared to a normal woman. But compared to most other superheroines she looked to be on the small end of breast size, something that had confused Crimson Cyborg. The contest he was taking part in was about sexual adoration of women’s breasts, LARGE breasts. All of the targets in their game seemed to have breasts that would be, when compared to normal women, described at least as “huge”. But Brickhouse’s breasts seemed much smaller than the other women’s. He had wondered why this Brickhouse had been on the list.

As he lifted the bra up he started to see why she was being included in this contest. Time seemed to move in slow motion for him, the bra slowly moving up her breasts. Her red tit-flesh bulged out from under the bra as expected at first. Clearly the sports bra was compressing her tits slightly. But as the moment passed into the next it become clear this was no normal bra and these were no normal breasts. The amount of soft red flesh slipping out the bottom of the bra increase at a pace that seemed impossible. More and more flesh was revealed, twice as much as he thought was compressed in the bra then three times as much!

Finally the breast flesh coming out of the bra reached critical mass. The bra popped up off her breasts, the rest of her tits exploding out to their true size and dropping free from the garment. The tits that dropped and bounced into sight were inhumanly large, each breast larger than a normal woman’s torso.

And the way they sagged heavily down her front made them look even larger. With her on her knees they hung practically to the ground. Almost all heroines had breasts far perkier and firmer than most their age, but Brickhouse’s tits seemed far saggier than most. It was as if their immense size and weight was too much for even her superpowered body to keep firm and perky. And her huge, wide tits also seemed less dense and softer compared to other heroines.

Crimson Cyborg was a man that had loved breasts before his body had been heavily augmented and changed. He was a man who had not just loved breasts, but loved LARGE breasts, the bigger the better. That love had only been increased by intense magnitudes when his libido had been tampered with and supercharged.

The slow reveal of Brickhouse’s tit’s true size had worked him up. He had started humping the weakened heroine’s face faster and harder. And then when they had exploded out in their total true immensity and dropped down, bouncing and jiggling, it had pushed the man over the edge.

He threw his head back and began groaning in pleasure, the sound frighteningly distorted as heard through the mask on his face. Brickhouse’s eyes shot open and she attempted to pull back and away from his quivering cumming cock, but he grabbed her head and kept firm hold and held her in place. She started to scream around his cock as the villain kept groaning in pleasure. He was cumming so long and hard, an astounding amount of cum exploding into her mouth.

As she yelled a cock muffled scream cum began to pour out around the shaft in her mouth, oozing out onto her lips and down her chin. Still Crimson Cyborg kept cumming. She gagged and choked on cum and her eyes rolled up into her head. Still he kept cumming. More cum was oozing out of her mouth, streaming down her chin and dripping onto her huge breasts. Still he kept cumming! The villain was ejaculating so much cum into the woman that it even began to pour out of her nostrils.

Finally he let go of her, pulling away. Brickhouse fell down onto her hands and knees, vomiting up a huge amount of cum. It looked like the villain had ejaculated enough into her to fill her gut up and then some. It was clear from the astounding volume of semen that the Crimson Cyborg’s whole reproductive system had been heavily modified. No normal man could cum that much without the aid of a drug. Yet his cock still stood hard and it was clear he was far from satisfied.

A man with an active P-Gene was left tired and distracted after getting off. It was a moment of weakness many heroines counted on, letting villains have their way with them till they came so they could easily regain the upper hand. But Crimson Cyborg did not have an active P-Gene so he did not suffer this weakness. He was as sharp and attentive now as he was when he first revealed himself to Brickhouse. And the long, intense orgasm hadn’t seemed to satiate his sexual needs in the slightest.

He waited till Brickhouse seemed to be done vomiting up his cum. He then grabbed her by the hair again and twisted her body around and forced her down until she was on her back, lying in the pool of cum she had just threw up. He sat on top of her, pinning her arms with his knees and slapping his cock down between her tits. Plenty of cum had leaked out of her mouth and dripped down there creating a pool of thick slimy lubricant for what was about to happen.

Grabbing her tits, something that was a bit of a challenge sense they were so immensely big and soft, he lifted them up and around his cock. He then started fucking her tits, humping her chest with his own cum as lubricant.

Brickhouse turned her head and closed her eyes as she started to sob. “Not my breasts,” she whined between sobs. “So ashamed of them… hate having anyone know they are so big and soft and gross!”

Crimson Cyborg chuckled. “Well then, you dumb-titted slut, I bet you just HATE having them cum-fucked, don’t you?”

Brickhouse didn’t say anything in response but her sobs become cries of despair.

“They are so fucking big…” Crimson Cyborg mumbled reverentially. “It’s overwhelming… can’t hold it in any longer!” He humped her chest hard then grunted.

His cock was completely enveloped in her huge red breasts and could not be seen. But Brickhouse could feel it. She could feel his hard cock quiver and then feel the cum shooting out. She could hear it squelching into her pressed tit meat around his shaft, feel the pressure building as the space was filled with cum. Looking at her chest she could see the cum pooling out from between her breasts, making a lake of semen on her chest. It grew bigger and bigger till it overflowed and started to run down her neck and shoulders and sides.

When he was finally done cumming he quickly got off of her and looked down at the hulking heroine. She lay on the floor in a huge pool of thick cum, her inhumanly large breasts sagging down her sides. Her chest was covered in thick semen that slowly oozed and dripped down her body. She was sobbing, her head turned into the puddle of cum she lay in with her eyes closed.

As he tucked his cock back into his costume Crimson Cyborg looked to the invisible robot recording the event. “Hope that money shot earns me some bonus points.” He then simply turned and walked away from the defeated heroine, not bothering to look back at her.

For a time Brickhouse lay still, sobbing quietly. But after a few long minutes of quiet, pathetic sobbing she suddenly gritted her teeth and hissed, “Be quiet! I don’t care if you loved it. I hated it! It was humiliating.”

The robot still hovered unseen above her, recording her. The man that would later watch the recording would be confused by her words. Who was she talking to? Not herself, clearly she was talking to someone else. But who?

She started to sit up, propping herself up on her elbows but slipping in the pool of cum and falling back down with a wet splat. She made a second attempt at getting up and succeeded this time. She sat on the floor, her gigantic breasts resting in her lap. She seemed to be glaring down at her tits, still clenching her teeth in anger. “No, you fucking perverted freaks, the fact it made me cum does not make it better! It makes it worse! That was a supervillain, you shouldn’t be happy he defeated me.”

Brickhouse was silent for a few moments as if listening to a response. She then erupted into a bout of fresh sobs. “Shut up…” she whispered with the sound of resigned, helpless defeat in her voice. “Just shut up you two, you got what you wanted. Leave me be now…”

Nothing of note happened after that. The heroine eventually seemed to pull herself together. She got up, she cleaned herself off as best she could, and then she bound the T.A.R.G.E.T. agents before leaving to get authorities who would deal with the men in the warehouse.

When the Game Master was prepping the recording for release to his contestant’s he struggled over where to cut video off. The exchange at the end was just so… strange. Who had Brickhouse been talking to?

Had she been in telepathic contact with her teammate Psychia? But no… then there would have been no need to speak out loud. Could she simply be crazy and have been talking to a voice in her head?

The strangest thing, to him at least, was that she appeared to be talking to her breasts at the end. She even cocked her head to the side as if listening to them. But no one that crazy could still be a functioning superheroine, could they? If her mind was that addled surely her teammate Psychia would see that in her mind and let their team leader Archbaroness know.

In the end the strange exchange was just too weird to include in the video he would be giving to his contestants at the end of the week. It would distract from the game and the revelation of Brickhouse’s huge breasts. The Game Master ended the video right after Crimson Cyborg had walked away, while Brickhouse was still sobbing in a pool of cum.

A much easier task had been scoring the event. Crimson Cyborg got four points for being in first place. Two points for Brickhouse’s “value”. And a full five points for style. The epic reveal and tit drop along with the cum all over her huge tits had been perfect in his perverted eyes.

Week Two Second Place


The large table in the dimly lit back room was crowded with people. A dozen men, and one woman, sat shoulder to shoulder eying each other as they glanced at the fresh hand of cards they had all been dealt. The night of high stakes poker had just begun.

Most of the men taking part in the bi-weekly game were members of the Red Dragon Syndicate. They wore the crime organization’s trademark black leather jacket with an ornate red dragon sewn onto the back. They were a mix of meaty mob enforcers or mid level crime bosses, the kind of criminals that were a dime a dozen in Megatropolis.

There was one man at the table, sitting with two beefy bodyguards on either side of him, that clearly wasn’t like the rest. He, and his body guards, had no leather jackets on. Nor did they look like criminals. The man sitting between the bodyguards was young, looking like he was barely in his twenties, thin and geeky. He carried himself with the extreme confidence of a man of great wealth, an impression that was partially ruined by the simple black hoodie he wore like armor.

“I’d like to thank you all for letting me and my boys here join in the festivities tonight,” the young man said, tossing a chip worth five-hundred dollars out as the ante for the round.

One of the older Red Dragon Syndicate men grunted. “You done us a few good favors, Daringwood. Organized crime in this city ain’t exactly known for being tech savvy. You hooked our operations up real good and for a decent price, too.”

David Daringwood smiled at the man and nodded. He HAD charged the crime syndicate half as much as he should have for what he had provided. But he hadn’t made the deal to make money, he’d made the deal so the Red Dragon Syndicate would be using computer systems that recorded everything they did and secretly sent the records to him.

He hadn’t yet decided what he’d do with the growing trove of information. Perhaps, if they ever crossed him the wrong way, he’d make sure it ended up in the hands of the authorities. Or maybe he’d grow closer to one of the Syndicate’s criminal competitors and hand it over to them. Or maybe he’d just sell it to the highest bidder. Then again, maybe he’d never do anything with it.

What mattered was that it gave him another in into the criminal world, a world he was growing more and more fonder of with every passing week. Publicly he still curated the persona that had made him so famous: the genius young tech billionaire that had created the social media platform the majority of the world now used.

There was another side to his public persona, one that made him even more interesting than all the other tech genius’ out there. It was what he had done in his youth, when he had been the teenage sidekick to the superhuman force of nature known as the Insatiable Bulk. For years he had been the only one that could keep the sexually enraged hulking monstrosity semi under control by pointing his insatiable lust at women that could take both the physical intensity of his unrestrained lust AND manage taking his over sized cock.

The answer had always been superheroines. It was during those years, when he had gotten the Insatiable Bulk’s sloppy seconds, that he’d gained a near addiction to fucking superpowered women. There had been a couple of years that those women had been out of reach for him, but as he became wealthy he was able to use that money to get what he wanted. And it was through those darker deals that he had grown close to the criminal community in Megatropolis. The fact that he had managed to keep this darker side of himself hidden from the public had meant that superheroines were even easier to trick or bribe into becoming his play things.

But it wasn’t a superheroine he had his eyes on tonight, it was a supervillainess.

The lone woman sitting in on the criminal’s poker night was the supervillainess known as Mary-Annette. She was a tall white woman with the muscular build of a dancer, although her breasts were far larger than you would expect for a woman with such a build. That was thanks to her active P-Gene, making her breasts far larger and perkier than they would have been otherwise.

Her features were pretty but narrow, her nose large and pointed. It left her looking predatory, something that was accentuated by the way she moved. Even the way she looked at people was predatory. She always looked as if she was sizing people up, trying to determine just what they could do for her.

Her hair was a vibrant shade of pink, another hint that she had an active P-gene. She wore it up but left a long strip of hair hanging down on either side of her temples just before her ears. The irises of her eyes were also pink, although a shade darker than her hair. Those eyes would become much more striking when she used her body control powers, glowing with bright, sizzling pink light.

“Yes, yes,” Mary-Annette said in a crisp British accent. “Mister Daringwood is a dedicated patron and servant to the criminal element of this great American city. But we aren’t here to talk shop, boys. We’re so you can all lose your money to me.”

The older syndicate member that had spoken to David suspiciously looked at Mary-Annette. “You remember the rules though, right? NO POWERS.”

Mary-Annette rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, no powers. I remember. You all won’t bloody well let me forget! But you needn’t worry so, I wouldn’t dream of using them here. Honor among thieves and all that.”

David smirked at the supervillainess. “And of course there’s the fact that should you try and use your powers we’d all know since your eyes would glow like crazy.”

“Yes, there is that as well,” she said lazily, discarding two cards and waiting to be dealt their replacements.

David watched her intensely as she picked her cards up and shuffled them into her hand. She was an expert poker player and never let any sign of how good or bad her hand was play on her face.

But it wasn’t her hand that his eyes were currently fixed on. They were fixed lower, at the prominent amount of cleavage that her costume displayed. The villainess wore a tight red and white dress that pushed up her breasts and left an indecent amount of cleavage showing. The bottom was short, flared out in white ruffles that, when she bent over, revealed that like most superpowered women she chose to wear no underwear.

Thinking about her pussy, which he had seen on a handful of occasions but never gotten to touch or taste, made him start to grow hard. Like every other woman with active P-gene it was totally hairless. It was smooth and pink and incredibly inviting.

His eyes darted to the side, up at the ceiling where a barely visible shimmer was present in the air. The robot that was recording David’s every move for the contest. He quickly looked away from it, not wanting to draw attention to its presence.

David’s glance returned to Mary-Annette’s breasts. He’d never actually seen them but he knew that was going to change, and soon. Compared to most heroines, especially those that were targets of this game he was taking part in, they were on the small size. They were a size that could be found on many normal women, although not on a woman as fit and muscular as her. He hoped they would look bigger once she was out of her costume.

Thinking about what he knew was inevitably going to happen that night he looked back up at the ceiling. In each corner there was a large speaker and at that time it was playing easily ignored background music, loud enough to be heard but not so loud that attention was drawn to it.

That music was the center of his plot to “score” Mary-Annette this week. He’d arranged everything ahead of time with the Red Dragon men, paying them handsomely to be able to set up the sound system. Part of the deal was that they were all to throw the game in David’s favor so that one by one they would have to leave the game till it was just him and Mary-Annette. The money they were playing with had all been provided by him, a cost that sat on top of what he had paid them all.

The men all dropping out of the game would take time, though, time that would “prep” the supervillainess. It was impossible to hear, but the music playing had subsonic subliminal messages interwoven into its audio. David had paid a great deal for that as well. The hidden audio would only affect women and since Mary-Annette was the only woman in the room it would only be affecting her.

Through the night, as the poker match dragged on and each member of the Red Dragon Syndicate was “driven” from the game the subliminal messages worked on Mary-Annette’s mind, eating away at her subconscious and prepping her for the night’s real festivities.

As the night dragged on David started to notice a small tic in Mary-Annette’s face. Every now and then her left eye would twitch. Every time he saw the little twitch he smiled. That was a sign that the subliminals were doing their work and he knew that when each twitch came exactly ten seconds apart that she would be fully prepped.

He started counting seconds in his head as her tics grew more frequent, paying just enough attention to the poker game to stay in. Soon it was only him, his two bodyguards, and Mary-Annette at the table. Everyone else had lost all their money and left the secluded back room. After two more hands her tics were the right time apart. He and his men now had privacy with the supervillainess and she was primed, it was time to start…

“I raise,” David said, tossing a few chips into the center of the table. He looked down at his cards as he kept talking. “Mary-Annette, why don’t you pull your tits out before you decide if you’re going to stay in this round or not.”

“Sure,” she said, acting as if this request was perfectly normal. She set her hand of cards down for a moment, grabbed the front of her costume and then tugged it down, letting her plump breasts spill out. Once they were hanging out she picked her cards back up and then tossed a few chips out into the center of the table. “I’m still in, by the way.”

David could feel his bodyguards tense up next to him. They had been nervous about this, afraid what would happen if things went wrong. Taking on heroines was one thing, but a supervillainess made them very nervous. As the round of cards finished off and another started the men started to ease up. Mary-Annette’s tits were still hanging out and she didn’t seem to either notice or care.

After some time had passed David allowed himself to really take in the sight of them. They DID look much bigger once they were free. He guessed they were E cups but being attached to a body that was so firm and fit, while they looked so soft and plump, made them look a great deal bigger.

He was also happy to see that they sagged heavily in a very natural manner. Some heroines had breasts so firm that they seemed fake. He preferred it when they looked natural, like Mary-Annette’s did. He was also happy to see that her pale skin made it so the delicious blue veins on her breasts were easily visible, even in the dim light of this grimy back room.

Staring at her tits made him hard. And being hard was making him impatient.

When it was next his turn he grabbed all of his chips and pushed them into the center of the table. “I raise you everything,” he said, a devious grin on his face.

“I can match that,” Mary-Annette said. She still had a perfect poker face.

David laid down his cards. He had crap. She laid down her cards, she had easily beat his hand. “Oh darn,” David said, “I suppose our game is over. But you’re not ready to leave yet.”

“No,” Mary-Annette said, pulling all the chips her way, “I’m not ready to leave yet. I… I still have something I need to do?” she asked, suddenly confused.

“Oh, yes,” David said, pushing his chair back and standing up. “You have PLENTY left to do. You, in fact, will be doing whatever you are told. Isn’t that right?”

Her brow furrowed in anger for just a moment but then her expression calmed. “Yes,” she said in a dreamy voice. “”Yes, I will do whatever I am told.”

“Good,” David said, nodding his head happily. “First things first, just to make sure: you aren’t to use your powers on us or try to escape, right?”

“Right,” she replied with a crisp nod.

“You are now my fully mind-controlled little fuck-doll, sex-slave, hypno-slut, aren’t you?” he asked her.

Again she nodded and replied with a crisp, “Right!”

“I want to hear you say it,” David replied. “Slowly. One word at a time. And as you utter the last syllable of each word I want you to cum.”

Mary-Annette furrowed her brow in concern and gripped the edge of the table. Her whole body tensed as she fought against the overwhelming compulsion to do as she was told. She had pushed herself back from the table a bit. Her hands were clenched on the edge of the table, her posture leaned forward slightly which caused her breasts to hand down and rest on the very edge. Her teeth were clenched and she was glaring at David Daringwood. But then the anger and defiance on her face broke. Her brows rose and pressed together as she let out a small moan of defeat followed by a shudder of pleasure, a small orgasm of submission calming and taming her.

“Tell me,” David said again, more firmly. “Tell me what you are, one word at a time. Tell me what you are one ORGASM at a time.”

“I’m,” she said then gasped and moaned in pleasure as her whole body tensed. Her eyes rolled up into her head and she shuddered as the forced orgasm rocked her body.

David smiled, knowing the orgasm would be draining her ability to use her powers. He knew this is how he had to begin, just in case she somehow pushed past the subliminal controls. Without her superpowers his bodyguards could easily overpower her.

“Your,” she continued, once more tensing up and moaning in pleasure as another orgasm was forced from her.

“Fully,” she added, cumming again. Her body was still tense, still was gripping the edge of the table, but she was starting to look tired now, weakened slightly.

“Mind-controlled…” Again she came. Again she moaned. Her body grew weaker. She let go of the table, leaned back in her chair, her big soft breasts hanging down her front.

“Little…” As her body tensed up she pushed her head back and down against the back of the chair. She moaned and writhed in her seat, rubbing her thighs together. Then, when the orgasm was done, she went limp in her chair.

Her head remained back, her eyes were closed. She breathed a few heavy breaths then spoke the next word. “Fuck-doll…” The word came out as a tired moan of pleasure, her orgasm beginning before she had even finished saying the word. Again she convulsed in her chair then went limp, breathing for a few moments before continuing.

“Sex-slave…” The word came out as more of a quiet gasp of pleasure then as an actual word. She moaned, she rubbed her thighs together, but her upper body didn’t move. She was too weak now from the orgasms. She was beyond depowered, she was now so weak she was close to passing out.

For a moment David worried that he had given her too many words to speak. He wanted her weakened but not unconscious.

Mary-Annette didn’t really speak the final word, it came out more as a sigh of utter defeat and submission. A tiny, little barely audible, “Hypno-slut…” And then she went totally limp, her breathing calm and slow and deep.

David Daringwood and his bodyguards rose to their feet. “Are you still awake?” he asked her.

“Yes…” she sighed, her voice full of post orgasmic calm and bliss.

“Alright,” David said to her, “you just rest while we get undressed.” He then nodded to the men next to him and they all began to undress.

Once he was naked he turned to the table and shoved everything on it to one side. He then told one of the bodyguards to get up on the table and lay on his back. “You there, fat-titted hypno-slut. Time to earn all that money you just won tonight. I know you’re tired and drained, but you can’t sleep, not yet. Get up on the table and sit on that man’s cock. I want you riding him, NOW.”

Slowly Mary-Annette got to her feet. Her face looked calm and tired and she moved as if she were barely able to stand. David helped her up on the table and then the bodyguard there helped her get on top of him. He held his dick up as she lowered herself down onto it, spreading her pussy lips open as she sat on him. Slowly she impaled herself on his cock, her eyes rolling up into her head as she moaned in pleasure. She slid down his hard cock easily as her many forced orgasms had left her dripping wet.

Once he was balls deep in her she fell forward, her breasts pressing into the man’s naked chest. He grabbed hold of her body and held her up slightly so those tits dangled down on his chest. Her head hung limp, her expression distant and full of confused pleasure as she started to move her hips, making her ass move up and down as she started fucking the man.

Meanwhile David and the second bodyguard had moved to opposite sides of the table and climbed up on it, the bodyguard by her head and David by her legs.

David spit into his hand and stroked the moisture onto his cock, then he grabbed Mary-Annette’s firm ass cheeks and spread them open before spitting onto her puckered asshole. A moment later he pressed his cockhead into her asshole and began to ease into her. He was gentle for just a moment, then he forced himself deep into her dirtiest of holes.

Mary-Annette’s head flew up. She winced in pain and opened her mouth to scream. The scream was quickly cut off as the other bodyguard shoved his cock into her mouth. The scream became a pained gag as he grabbed hold of her head and started pounding her face.

The three men pounded the supervillainess in every fuck-hole she had. They fucked her hard and fast. They had been waiting all night, dreaming about this moment. They were worked up and eager to get off. Their impulse was to cum inside of her, but David had told them beforehand that wasn’t what they were going to do. They had their instructions and they would follow them.

They were to wait, to hold off cumming till David gave the signal. After plenty of time spent pounding her wet, inviting holes David finally gave the signal. They all scrambled off and out from under her, hopping or sliding off the table. One of the bodyguards, the largest of the two, grabbed Mary-Annette and pulled her off the table as well.

She was forced down onto her knees, the three men standing before her jerking off to the sight of the powerful supervillainess looking dazed and fucked raw. They all stared at her tits, moving in closer, pointing their cocks at her breasts as they kept jerking off.

David Daringwood glanced around the room, trying to locate the shimmer in the air that was the stealthed camera bot. He found it and smiled. “All right boys, let’s give the Game Master his money shot.”

Then, nearly in unison, the three men let their bodies orgasm. They groaned in pleasure and started spooging onto Mary’s big breasts. Cum shot out of cockheads, arced through the air, and plopped down wetly on her ample breast flesh. By the time they were done her tits were covered in oozing semen.

Sated, the three men took a few steps back as post climax sleepiness overcame them. David flashed a satisfied grin at Mary-Annette. “Use two fingers to collect up as much cum as you can,” he told her. “Then smear it all over your cunt and jill off to the feel of our cum on and in your pussy.” She did just as she was told, kneeling on the floor with her legs spread and her hand in between then as she masturbated with a fresh cum now smeared onto her pussy.

“Good,” David said as he and his men started to get dressed. “Now I want you to think on what happened, on how you will remember it. You will NOT remember that you were my fully mind-controlled little fuck-doll, sex-slave, hypno-slut. When you remember tonight you will remember the sex but you will remember it as being your idea. Something you wanted and made happen. Understand?”

Mary-Annette nodded her head.

“Good,” David said as he pulled his pants on. “Now I want you stay there and masturbate till you get off at least two more times. After that collect up your winnings and think fondly on this night you won all the money and got plowed by three men at once.”


* * *


The Game Master nodded happily at the video he had just finished watching. “Smart decision, finishing on her breasts like that. I would have been displeased if they hadn’t done so. That will be three points for coming in second, two points for Mary-Annette, and let’s say three points for style since there was three of them. That gives mister Daringwood a total of eight points, putting him in the lead!”

He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “A good lead and one he’ll almost certain still have by the end of the week, yet a lead her could easily lose in upcoming weeks. Still, very impressive, and surprising, that man without powers is doing so well!”

Week Two Third Place

The stealthed camera bot floated above a building in downtown Megatropolis. It was shifting from side to side, pointing at a shadowed area on the building’s roof.

Slowly a costumed figure emerged from that darkness. He was a slender, well muscled man. He had short, green hair and eyes with vibrant green irises that glowed dimply in the dark night. He wore a green costume, the fabric strange. It seemed to shimmer at times and, when he stood in shadow, would grow dark to hide the man’s presence. He had a face that most women would describe as “highly attractive” and he wore a charming, smug smile that said he knew as much.

Strapped to his back was a high tech bow made of synthetic material normally only available to the military. Next to the bow was a quiver, also looking to be military grade. The arrows in it were also high tech devises, made to deliver a great number of, each one specially chosen by the man to help him in the only thing he cared about: the hunt.

He moved to the edge of the building’s roof, kneeling down on the ledge and looking at the city below him. Megatropolis, the greatest hunting ground for the prey he lived to hunt: superheroines.

The man went by the name of Eros’ Arrow. He smiled, wondering who he’d find to hunt tonight. He’d hunted many since coming to Megatropolis, yet he was disappointed. The contest he was taking part in excited him and he had disappointed himself by not scoring in it during the first week.

He should of. Of all the contestants he felt he was best suited for this contest. Oh, sure, they were all very similar men. Most of them had active P-Genes and the powers that came along with that. All of them were sexually driven perverts. All supervillains, although the Daringwood boy seemed to still be hiding that fact from the public. A few of them would even be classified the same way he was: a cape chaser. A superpowered individually who mostly used their powers to defeat and then fuck superheroines. But even the other cape chasers weren’t really like him, not really. They lived to fuck heroines while Eros’ Arrow treated the act like an art.

For a moment he thought about his life before he had found his true calling. His early recruitment in the military. The fact that he had been an excellent marksmen even before his powers activated. And then, once he did gain his powers, the way they had made him the greatest marksmen in the world.

But with the superpowers came a supercharged libido. He quickly found he no longer enjoyed hunting men, no longer relished the taste of dealing death. But the hunt! The love of the hunt had remained deeply ingrained in him. He’d left the military, a confused and lost man unsure what kind of hunt he needed. The first time he hunted and fucked a heroine he knew. He knew that this was his purpose in life.

He stood, took a few steps back, then ran towards the edge of the roof, leaping off of it. He sailed through the air, diving down towards the next building over. He landed with a roll, springing back up onto his feet.

A quick look behind him confirmed that the camera bot was following him. The sight of it made him chuckle. Most would not be able to see it even if they knew it was there, but to his eyes it was as easily spotted as the building he stood.

Once more he moved to the edge of the building and crouched, peering down at the city below. Somewhere down there was his prey for the night… Somewhere there was a superheroine, one of the targets in the competition. He would find her. He would hunt her. And then he would revel in fucking his prize once she was subdued.


* * *


A costumed superheroine strode through the dimly streets and dark back alleys of the Megatropolis, moving as if she was a true creature of the night. She was on the prowl for crime, ready to bring justice, and the Lord’s wrath, upon any evildoer she found.

Her costume was black and white and somewhat reassembled a nun’s habit, although it had extra flair and showed off her figure far more than any religious order would have allow. One prominent display was the woman’s large breasts, the costume made to display enough cleavage to make a real nun faint. And those breasts were large and round in a way only found in a woman with an active P-gene. It was clear that the costume gave no support to them, yet they stood perfectly firmly round, like two beach balls attached to the woman’s chest that were defying gravity. On any other women they would be assumed to be overlarge implants, but not a heroine. Everyone knew their breasts were usually superhumanly sized.

She wore a stern expression on her face. From her round facial features it was clear that she was a Japanese-American woman, yet her skin tone was all wrong. It was pale, as if dusted with white powder, and in the night her strange skin gave her a ghostly appearance.

The superheroine was known as Sister Tempest. She was a fierce fighter and a woman of great faith, although thanks to the overactive libido that came with her powers she led a far from chaste lifestyle.

Her sexuality had been something she had struggled with when her powers had first manifested. The sinful things her body wanted… and the sinful amount it wanted them at had filled her with great shame. But after long months of prayer and training she had made her peace with what she was. After all, her god had made her this way so it was only right to embrace what she had become.

So, like most heroines, she used her indecently built body to her advantage, displaying enough flesh to scandalize the god fearing people she had grown up with. It was something that could give her the upper hand in her never ending fight against crime. The ample, exposed cleavage or the way her short skirt would easily fly up to reveal she wore no panties frequently distracted opponents and allowed her to gain the upper hand.

And then there was what would happen when the criminals and supervillains got the better of her. Everyone in the superhero community knew that the first unwritten rule of the villain’s code was that a defeated heroine was fair game sexually. It was a great weakness they all had. If she was losing a fight she could simply feign submission and let the men (and women) have their way with her. But going into it with a clear head she could almost always keep control, even regain total control over her opponents once their guard was down or they were made lazy and distracted by post orgasmic bliss.

Still, she still had a strong gut reaction to most sexual acts. The shame and disgust would fill her whenever the sex began, although she would soon regain control of herself and push the shame away, vowing to pray for repentance at a later time. And after a few years of this she had started to revel in the shame, to get off from it, a fact she frequently refused to acknowledge.

Her patrol that night had taken her into downtown Megatropolis. By day it was one of the safest places in the city but things changed at night, especially down the dimly lit dark alleyways. It was there that she mainly patrolled, working to chase off the petty thugs and costumed gangs that wondered into this part of town during the cover of darkness. She would just wander the city at night and almost always stumble upon these craven villains.

That night, however, a villain had stumbled upon her and had been tailing her for a few blocks now. She had no sense of the danger she was in, had no idea she was being followed. Hunted.

Above her a figure that blended into the shadows trailed after her, leaping from building roof to building roof as she moved through the alleyways bellow. At times he would draw his bow and shoot a grappling arrow to a building too far for him to leap too. Sister Tempest noticed none of this. The streets were where she kept her attention, the world above ignored and assumed to be free of any dangers.

She was moving down a back alley, stopping to investigate a pile of wooden crates stacked by a back garage door. They could easily be a delivery for some business but she knew the crime syndicates that thrived in the city liked to hide their activities in plain sight. One of the large crates sat on its own, no other ones stacked atop it. It sat a little taller than her knees and was almost large enough to lie on top of comfortably on. She knelt and started investigating it for any signs that it contained illicit material.

Sister Tempest had planned on prying the top open and peeking inside but she never had the chance. When she knelt down to take a closer look at the crate something slammed down next to her. She had superhumanly fast reflexes, fast enough for her to be able to leap back from the arrow that had impacted the ground next to her. Yet even her speed was not enough to get her far enough away to be safe.

As it slammed into the ground the tip exploded, releasing a thick cloud of gas that quickly expanded and enveloped Sister Tempest. The cloud was thick and impossible to escape and just one breath was enough to doom the busty superheroine.

She dropped to the ground with a surprised moan as an incredibly powerful orgasm was forced from her body, strong enough to instantly depower her. By the time she landed on the ground her body was convulsing in pleasure. “O-Bomb!” she moaned as the orgasm continued to wrack her body and drain her powers.

An O-Bomb was an aerosolized delivery system for the drug Libidonol, a drug that had originally been developed as a sexual aid but had been deemed too powerful for public use. It could now be found only on the black market and had been weaponized for use against large crowds and superheroines. Initial application of the drug forced an immediate, powerful orgasm from the user. This made it a potent weapon when wielded against superpowered women since most of them were depowered by orgasms and the initial orgasm Libidonol forced was almost always enough to depower any superheroine.

But the drug did more than force that initial orgasm. Once the climax was finished the user, or in this case victim, would be put into an uncontrollable sexual haze. It made male users aggressive, making it so they turned to the nearest potential sexual partner and filling them with the need to fuck and cum repeatedly. It had a similar effect on women, although they were left not aggressive but rather passive and willing to let anything sexual happen to them. And for most people these effects did not wear off till the drug had been cum out of their system, and that normally didn’t happen till they had fucked till they passed out.

Sister Tempest was aware of all of this, although at that moment the details were but a blur in her over pleasured mind. As she lay on the ground, shaking and convulsing as she continued to cum, she was aware that she was in danger. She had been depowered and knew that whoever had done this to her would almost certainly soon be there to take advantage of the state she would be left in.

Her fears, however, seemed to be wrong for as the drug infused cloud of gas around her dissipated no figure appeared. She was left painfully alone, no one around to help her deal with the all consuming need to fuck. She sat up, leaning against the large crate and spread her legs, the short skirt of her costume spreading open and revealing her bare, hairless snatch. Her hand was between her legs in a flash, her fingers plunging deep into her pussy which, thanks to her previous orgasm, was now sopping wet. She started ramming her fingers in and out of her cunt, desperate to pound another orgasm out of her body.

But her body was so very hungry for sexual attention, for instant release that her fingers alone weren’t going to be enough. Her free hand shot to the front of her costume, tugging down on it and pulling her large, round, perfectly firm breasts out one at a time. She slumped down slightly on the box, spreading her legs wider open, and started playing her breasts. Grabbing and groping, pinching and pulling on her nipples. She gasped and moaned, her eyes rolling up into her head as she coaxed a second orgasm from her body.

She sat panting working her body in a way that made it clear she had zero control over her actions, still masturbating even as the pleasure of the second climax faded. Her back arched as she soon had a third orgasm, but still the desperate need for release hadn’t lessened any.

It was only after she had suffered through the pleasure of a fourth orgasm that a figure dressed in a green outfit dropped down from above, landing with the grace of a cat. She could see that the man was stowing a bow on his back. He moved towards her, although stood far enough away that she didn’t feel the need to pounce on him.

“Look at this,” the man said with a charming smile, as if the sight of the furiously masturbating heroine before him was an everyday occurrence. “Such a big titted super-slut. And what is it she is doing down this dark back alley, all alone where she thought she was unseen? Not fighting crime, that’s for sure. Why, it looks more like she is sitting her rubbing her twat till there is nothing left of her mind.”

Sister Tempest looked up at the main, trying to look angry but unable to, she was fingering herself too furiously to show much more than pleasure on her face. “Y-you,” she stuttered, stopping to moan as she had another orgasm. When it was done her intensity of masturbation didn’t lesson but it was clear that the climaxes were doing more than weakening her powers. She was covered in sweat and looked as if she was near fainting from exhaustion.

“Yes, me,” Eros’ Arrow declared with pride. “Another successful hunt, and now it’s time to enjoy the fruits of my labor.” As he spoke he started opening the crotch of his costume, pulling his cock out. As he did this he moved towards her so that by the time it was out he was standing right before her. He held his cock, which was already hard from the sight before him, and shoved it in the heroine’s face.

She reacted with pure unrestrained cock-lust, sitting up and leaning forward to take his cock in her mouth. She inhaled it, taking it deep into her mouth and down her throat, all while still ramming her fingers in her cunt and mauling her own tits.

Eros’ Arrow knew that the Libidonol coursing through the defeated heroine’s veins would ensure that she “willing” sucked his cock but that was not what he was in the mood for. He was a conquering hunter and this was his prey. He wanted to ravage her.

He grabbed hold of her head with two hands and started savagely fucking her face. Holding her close as he pounded deep into her throat, showing now care for her comfort or her ability to breath. She choked and gagged yet she made no effort to try and pull away. She simply accepted her fate, continuing to jill off and play with her tits. Except now she wasn’t masturbating to get off, she was masturbating to what was being done to her. It was savage and humiliating and her body loved it. She came again and again as he fucked her face.

She came so much that she started to pass out. But Eros’ Arrow was prepared for this. Just as her eyes rolled up into her head and her body started to go limp he let go of her head, reaching back into his quiver with lightening reflexes and pulling out an arrow that was tipped with a syringe. He jammed the arrow into the woman’s neck, the arrow automatically injecting her with a drug that would keep her awake through many more orgasms.

Her eyes shot back open and she looked up at him, only now realizing how well planned out this attack was. She was totally at this man’s mercy and sinful sexual desires and it was clear he intended to make long and hard use of her. The thought excited her and that feeling of excitement brought great shame to her, especially since she couldn’t even rationalize what was happening as something she was doing to gain an advantage against an opponent. Her opponent had all the advantage and she knew it. There would be no escape for her tonight.

Eros’ Arrow did not grab her head again, did not shove his cock back down her throat. But he didn’t back away. It was still there, before her face. Hard and dripping thick strings of saliva. She couldn’t help herself, she had to have it in her. She leaned forward, let go of her breasts and reached up to grab it by the base. She leaned in closer and opened her mouth, taking it back in her.

As she started to vigorously suck him off Eros’ Arrow stood, looking down at her in triumph. “I know who you are, Sister Tempest,” he said. She looked up at him, her eyes wide as she sucked and fingered herself. “I have studied all of my potential prey here in Megatropolis. I know that you are a woman of great religious devotion, or at least that you are supposed to be. But from the skill you are sucking me off with it seems your life is more sinful then you lead the public to think. In fact, from how good you are at this I assume your hobbies mainly include sucking cock and thinking about the next time you will get to suck cock.”

Her brow furrowed in shame and humiliation, her eyes begging for him to stop this. Yet the rest of her body made it clear she wanted, perhaps even needed, for things to continue.

“Show me what a good cock-sucking slut you are,” he said down at her with a devious smirk. “Grab those big, firm, round tits and jiggle them for me.”

She pulled her hand away from her pussy and let go of his cock. She grabbed her breasts and lifted them up. They were large and round and unnaturally firm. Most who saw them would pause to wonder if they were, in fact, implants. But once she started jiggling, shaking, and bouncing them for the pleasure of the villain that had defeated her it was clear they were all natural.

“Such a good slut,” Eros’ Arrow said with a chuckle. “I do enjoy the show you are putting on, but I think you need to do more to make me feel pleasure. I think you are neglecting my balls. Please, play with them some.”

She let her left breasts drop, her right hand now groping and squeezing her other breast. Her left hand rose to his balls, cupping them. She started playing with them, massaging and lightly groping them in the manner she knew pleased most men. Normally this was something she did to make a man cum so she could escape or defeat him faster, but in that moment she was doing it only to bring him pleasure. And that made he feel ashamed of herself, that a woman as physically powerful as her could so easily be brought so low and tamed so quickly.

“Mmmm, yessssss,” he hissed in pleasure. “Getting close to cumming.” After saying this his gaze darted away from the woman sitting at his feet. He quickly looked around, searching for the barely visible shimmer of the robot that was supposed to be recording this. He found it, happy to see it had followed him when he had leapt down from the building top. He knew that he wasn’t just enjoying the rewards of a successful hunt, he was putting on a show.

With that in mind he reached into a pouch built into his costume and pulled out a syringe containing a small ammount of a thick creamy white substance. “I’ll be needing this to ensure I can keep going after I cum,” he said to Sister Tempest, although in reality he was speaking to the audience he hoped would soon be watching these events. “A little Semenall, just enough to ensure I’ll stay hard and be able to cover you in plenty of cum.”

Sister Tempest kept sucking his cock with great passion but now a look of distress was on her face. She struggled against the compulsion to keep sucking cock, managing to pull his dick out of her mouth to get a few words out before noisily inhaling it and sucking again for a few moments before she could pull away and get a few more words out.

“Please-” she began, sucking then pulling away again. “Don’t cum-” She sucked some more. “On me.” More sucking. “So degrading.” More sucking. “So humiliating and gross!”

Eros’ Arrow chuckled down at her. “Oh, you poor dumb-titted slut! How stupid of you to beg so, for all you’ve done is ensure that I will be doing everything I can to cover your pretty face and big tits with as much cum as I can.”

Realizing what she had done to herself Sister Tempest began to cry quietly as she kept sucking the villain off.

“Oh, now, don’t be pathetic,” he snarled at her. “I’ll give you something to really cry about.” He then grabbed her head and started violently fucking her throat again. But it wasn’t long before he was pulling his cock out of her mouth and aiming it at her chest. He grunted in pleasure and started cumming on her tits.

Most men with an active P-Gene cum more than a normal man and the drug he had injected himself with, Semenall, kicked a man’s production of semen into overdrive. There was also the fact that most drugs had a significantly stronger effect on humans with an active P-Gene. All of this meant that the amount of cum that came shooting out of Eros’ Arrow’s cock was staggering. More than enough to cover her large round tits AND her pretty, pale face.

After he was done cumming Eros’ Arrow stumbled back, having to lean against the nearby pile of crates for support. The orgasm he had just experienced had been intense, long, and draining. But the Semenall coursing through his body was working to keep him from tiring and maintain his erection. First, though, his balls needed to be refilled. He bent forward, grabbing his crotch as he groaned in pain while his balls refilled at what seemed to be an impossible speed.

Meanwhile Sister Tempest was sitting on the ground of the filthy alleyway, still leaning up against the crate. Her front was covered in thick cum that was oozing and dripping down her front, surely leaving nasty stains on the black fabric of her costume. She was sobbing, barely able to endure the humiliation and degradation from being so covered in cum.

Yet she wasn’t rising to her feet and trying to escape. She wasn’t even trying to wipe any of the semen off of her body, not even away from her eyes for plenty of cum had dripped down through her eyelashes and over her eyes. Instead she sat there, her legs spread wide open as she masturbated with both hands. The fingers of one hand were busy slamming in and out of her wet cunt hole. The fingers of her other hand rubbed furiously at her clit.

She sat in her cum covered shame, the Libidinal making sure she kept masturbating uncontrollably, cumming over and over again. And the drug Eros’ Arrow had injected into her neck ensured that even as each orgasm tried to weaken her to the point that her body wanted to pass out she couldn’t. She felt utterly exhausted yet fully awake.

Eros’ Arrow gave one last grunt of pain then stood up. His balls were swollen and enlarged, overfilled with semen. He needed to fuck, needed to drain them. It was like a madness, one that he could slightly control but only to point where the sexual rage was pointed. And he obviously pointed it at Sister Tempest.

He quickly moved to her, ripping the black and white head wrap she wore that resembled a nun’s veil off of her head. He then grabbed her hair and lifted her up onto her feet, immediately twisting her around and growling with desperate sexual need as he pushed her down onto all fours. She squealed and moaned and whimpered objections but was unable to put up any real fight.

Once she was on her hands and knees he dropped down onto his own knees behind her, grabbing his cock and quickly sliding it into her pussy from behind. But before he started fucking her well shaped back side he grabbed her right arm, twisting it up and behind her. He held tightly to her wrist, pulling her arm as far back as he could, while he rested the other hand on her.

This left her on her knees and braced against the ground with one hand. Her arm pulled back like it was ensured that her torso was high off the ground, high enough that her large round breasts dangled far above the ground. The cum that covered them was already starting to ooze and drip off onto the ground below her.

She looked back at Eros’ Arrow and whined. “Please, the gravel is digging into my knees and my hands! Fuck me some other way. I’m begging you!”

“No,” He growled, lifting his hand off her shoulder and back handing her in the face. The blow would have been enough to send her tumbling to the ground but he kept tight hold of her arm and held her up in place.

He wasn’t normally this rough with the women he hunted. It was the Semenall, making him act like a dominant, uncaring beast.

A moment later and he was fucking her, pounding into her back side with wild enthusiasm and enjoying the feel of her tight, wet cunt around his cock. Enjoying the feel of his body slamming into her plump, firm ass. Reveling in the sound of sweaty flesh slapping into sweaty flesh, of the moist sounds of his cock entering and leaving her cunt.

Sister Tempest pressed her hand hard into the ground, trying to hold her body in place. But Eros’ Arrow was fucking her too hard. Her large breasts were bouncing, swaying, and jiggling wildly under her, pulling heavily on her body as they flew wildly about. The cum on them was splattering all over the place. One the ground. On her arm. Even up onto her face. And through it all she only had physical sensations, not visual ones. Her face was still too covered in cum for her to be able to open her eyes.

It was a good thing she couldn’t see. The round, floating camera bot that was watching them, recording her savage fucking, was now floating only a couple of feet away from her head. That close Eros’ Arrow could easily make out the shape of the camera lens on the front of the shimmering see-through stealthed robot. He could see that it was recording a close up of her tits as they flew wildly about. It reminded him that this contest was supposed to be about these women’s large breasts, that the Game Master wanted to see them used and abused.

Sister Tempest began to sob. “Please,” she begged through the tears that were mixing with the cum on her face. “Please let this ordeal be finished! Just cum in me and be done. I don’t know how much more I can take!”

Eros’ Arrow kept pounding her. “Oh, I’m not cumming in your pussy, as much as I would enjoy that. No, by now most of the cum I left on your tits has flown off. They will need a big, fresh load. When I’m ready to cum, which will be soon, it will be all over those big beach balls you call your breasts.”

She wailed in despair, the sound echoing through the alley around them and filling the night air. “Please, not again!!! Just cum in my pussy. Please, I can’t take any more humiliation. Being cum on is the worst thing in the world!”

He grunted and pulled out of her, pulling her up and flipping her over then pressing her down onto the ground so she was sitting on her ass. “Your disgust pushed me over the edge,” he groaned, grabbing his cock and giving it a few jerks then pointing it at her. A moment later his body tensed and then another huge load of cum started spraying out of his cock.

He showered her with his cum, huge spurts of thick cum plopping on her tits and face. The degradation, the disgust, the shame she felt from fresh load of cum splattering all over her mixed with the drugs running through her body, mixed with her darkest sexual desires, the ones where she secretly loved having this done to her. It pushed her over the edge and soon she was cumming too.

She convulsed as the last of Eros’ Arrow’s cum splattered on her pretty face. It was too much. Too many orgasms, too strong and too close together. Even the drug that had been keeping her awake wasn’t enough. She was too drained. Even as she was still cumming she collapsed to the ground, passing out.

Eros’ Arrow stood, breathing heavily. He was finally sated. He looked down at the unconscious heroine at his feet, her tits hanging out of her costume and the top half of her body covered in cum. It was a beautiful sight. He just hoped he’d gotten to her soon enough to be able to score her. If so he was certain this would earn him plenty of points.


* * *


The Game Master watched Eros’ Arrow on the screen before him, watched the drained man tuck his cock away and flash a charming, but tired, smile at the camera that was recording him. He watched as the villain turned and slowly walked away, leaving the unconscious heroine behind. The camera followed after him, also leaving the heroine behind.

For a moment he wondered what had happened to the women. How long did she lay there in that alley? When she woke was the cum covering her still wet, or had it dried into a disgusting crust of male filth? When she woke was she alone, or did someone discover her before then? If they had found her did they maybe take a turn at using the woman’s unconscious body?

They were questions he’d never know the answers to. And he assumed it must be something these women were used to dealing with. Of course that’s why he came here to this city full of these big breasted horny sluts. To see them at their worst and make a game of it and record it all.

His contestants thought they were the only ones besides him that were getting to witness the footage of the game, but they were very wrong. The Game Master had traveled a long way to conduct this game, to get these recordings. They were being transmitted back to his far away home, something these men need never know. If they knew the truth about the Game Master, about who and what he was they might not trust him the way they currently did.

But they would never know the truth. In their way these villainess Earth men were as easily taken advantage of as the superpowered women were. The Game Master smiled, confident his secret would never be discovered.

And then he turned his attention to the scoring for this event. Eros’ Arrow would be scoring two points for coming in third place. Two points for scoring Sister Tempest. And finally he was going to be getting four points for style. He’d paid plenty of attention to her big firm breasts, making sure that even when he wasn’t using them they were center stage. And the Game Master did so like it when things get messy wet with ample cum. In total Eros’ Arrow would be scoring a total of eight points, jumping him up the leader board.

Week Two Fourth Place

Little Silicon Valley was a small, affluent neighborhood. Megatropolis’ tech industry was centered there, Most of the mid-sized high technology companies headquartered in the city having their offices within the neighborhood. There were also a number of high-end apartment complexes, places for the highly skilled and well paid workers of these companies to live in their own little self contained bubble.

It wasn’t normally a neighborhood that Miss Mexicana worked in or patrolled but there had been a series of heists involving advanced computer technology that she was trying to put an end to. The information she had gathered from her normal set of informants pointed to the next big job going down in this neighborhood, although she didn’t have any details beyond that.

So she was doing what she always did when she had no leads: hitting the streets and hoping for the best. It was something that had worked well in her native Mexico and, for the most part, had served her well here in Megatropolis. Plus this was a neighborhood where street crime was not as frequent as most other neighborhoods. She was glad to be free of the constant and exhausting distractions such crime brought when working a larger case like this.

As she stalked the streets, stopping to ask questions at various businesses or to people on the streets, she felt free from distractions. No pickpockets. No muggings. No costumed gangs causing trouble. She could just concentrate on the job she was working on.

Megatropolis, however, is not a city that likes to make life easy for its heroines. She had just exited the offices of tech company where her questioning had gone nowhere. She had barely turned to move on to the next business she had decided to shake down for leads when she heard blaring police sirens.

Turning, she saw a police cruiser speeding down the road, its lights flashing as other cars moved out the way to let it pass. It seemed to be headed somewhere in a hurry but as it approached her it slowed and pulled up onto the curb.

The officer driving the car threw his door opened and hopped out, turning to Miss Mexicana with desperation on his. “You’re a superheroine?” he asked quickly.

“Yes,” she said, her voice thickly accented. “I am Miss Mexicana. Do you need assistance?”

The man’s eyes darted down to her breasts. Miss Mexicana rolled her eyes at this. It was the initial reaction most men had when they first saw her when she was in costume.

She had a curvy body with a large plump ass and wide hips that her costume, a string bikini with the colors of the Mexican flag printed on them, left almost fully exposed. From behind, were the bikini bottom tended to dig into her ass, she looked nearly naked. From the front the bikini top tried, and mostly failed, to cover her overlarge breasts.

It was those large breasts that most noticed fist and that she seemed most remembered for. If she were to wear a bra it would have to have been custom made, as there wasn’t a normal cup size that would fit her breasts. Her bikini top did a passable job of keeping her large breasts in place as she fought crime but they failed dismally at covering them up properly, leaving more than half of the surface of her breasts exposed.

In Mexico the costume had been traditional, worn by countless other Miss Mexicanas before her. She, however, had been the first to fill the outfit so well. Still, when she had fought crime in Mexico only the crudest of criminals would mention her body. In that country even the cartels respected the power implied by the large breasts of a woman with an active P-gene.

Here in America, though, things were very different. The general public felt free to ogle, cat call, even group a heroine when they felt they could get away with it. And the things the criminals did, especially when they defeat a heroine, had shocked her at first. She had slowly gotten used to this sexually charged atmosphere, even learning from other heroines how to use her sexuality and body as a weapon.

Still, it bothered her when men didn’t bother to hide their lecherous glances or even outright stared at her breasts or ass. Even a respectable authority figure like the cop standing before her seemed to feel free to look at her like she was a porn star on display. In fact, the man was staring at her breasts for an awkwardly long time, looking as if he was inspecting them for some unknown purpose.

She cleared her throat. The man blinked and looked up from her breasts, a slight look of confusion on his face. “What did you say your name was?”

“Miss Mexicana. But please, why have you stopped? You seemed to be on your way to some emergency.”

The police officer pulled a notepad out of the breast pocket of his uniform and flipped it open. She could see that the page he was looking at had a long list of names. She recognized most of them as superheroines active in the city, although it appeared a few of the names were supervillainesses as well. Most interestingly she saw her own name on the list.

So, apparently, did the man. He flipped the notepad closed and put it back in his pocket. “You’re one of the ones I’ve been told I can get. There is a code S-2, do you know what that means?”

She nodded her head. “Si, the S series of police codes are designations for superpowered crime that requires the assistance of a superhero to help deal with the threat. An S-1 being the lowest threat and S-4 being a large enough threat to require a response from the city’s official super team.”

“Yes. I was sent out to retrieve the first heroine I could find and bring her back to help with this case. Please,” he said, turning and opening the back door to his cruiser, “come with me. It’s an emergency.”

Miss Mexicana quickly piled into the back of the car, knowing it was her duty to respond to a call like this even if it meant temporarily abandoning her current case. It was only a few minutes later, as the police cruiser drove through the streets of Megatropolis, that she started to question what was going on.

She thought back to the list the man had looked at. Why would he need such a list for an emergency like this? Surely the first heroine he found would have done the job. Maybe a specific power set had been required? But that didn’t make sense, she knew the powers of all the heroines on the list she had recognized and she couldn’t think of anything they all had in common. And then there was the oddity of the inclusion of a few supervillainesses on the list.

Another thing that occurred to her was that the police officer no longer had his sirens on. He still drove like he was in a rush yet he wasn’t using the sirens to get to their destination as fast as possible.

She leaned forward and knocked on the bullet proof glass that separated the front and back seat. The cop reached back and slid a bit of the window open so he could hear her.

“Excuse me, but if this is an emergency why are your sirens not on?” she asked politely.

The man answered her without turning back to look at her. “We think we know where the perp is and we don’t want them to know we are coming. Hopefully we can enter their home and catch them by surprise.”

“And who is this perp? What threat are they causing? What powers do they have?”

The cop was silent for a long time, his eyes never leaving the road. “We think we know where the perp is and we don’t want him to know we are coming. Hopefully we can enter their home and catch them by surprise.” The words were exactly the same as the ones he had just spoken to her and didn’t answer any of the questions she had just asked.

This was starting to feel strange. But before she had a chance to really think about the situation the cop turned into the entrance of an underground garage, a tall, expensive looking apartment building rising above them as they drove down into it.

“We’re here,” he said, pulling into a parking spot by an elevator that led up into the apartments above.

She knew the neighborhood they were in. It was an upscale residential neighborhood full of tall apartment buildings filled with expensive residences located near Greenway Park. It was definitely not a normal place to be chasing after a superpowered criminal.

Her plan was to press the police officer for clearer answers to what kind of threat they faced, but when he threw the back door to the cruiser open to let her out she saw that he had his pistol drawn.

“We have to hurry,” he said, immediately turning from her and rushing towards the elevator.

The urgency the man was displaying made her jump into crisis mode, momentarily forgetting all her questions and simply following after him. She kept her fists clenched, ready for a fight. Yet during the long elevator ride, they were headed to the top floor, her questions returned to her.

She turned and moved closer to the cop, planning on pressing him for answers now. But as she neared him a strange odor that seemed to be clinging to him distracted her. It was musty, strong and hung in the air and felt like it stuck her mouth so strongly that she almost felt she could taste it. It reminded her of some kind of body odor, although it had powerfully sweet undertones that made her head spin.

Miss Mexicana ended up taking a few steps back away from the man to get away from the smell. The odor had been so strong and distracting that she once again forgot all about her questions, forget all about the growing sense that something here wasn’t right.

As soon as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open the police officer dashed out, weapon pointed in front of him. “Come on,” he said with quiet urgency. “They are supposed to be up here.”

She dashed after him, having to move fast enough that it caused her large breasts to bounce heavily. She had to reach up and hold them in place. Her bikini top kept them in check, yes, but didn’t keep them from bouncing when she was moving this fast. And that could lead to some very bad distractions.

Miss Mexicana’s breasts weren’t just super-sized, they were super sensitive. She understood that all women with an active P-Gene had breasts that were far more sensitive when compared to a normal woman. Yet hers were magnitudes more sensitive, nearly any stimulation, even the heavy bounce of her breasts as she ran, was enough to make her horny to the point of distraction. And once awoken her supercharged libido was hard to silence.

A moment later the cop stopped, turning to face one of the doors into the apartments that filled the building. “Look,” he whispered, pointing his gun at the door. It hung slightly open, although not far enough to see inside. “Someone might have beaten us here, or maybe they found out we were coming and left in a rush. We need to be prepared for anything when we go in there.”

He finally looked back at her. He had a strange expression on his face. His eyes seemed not to be focused and he was looking past her. “You need to go first. If the perp with powers is in there I might not be able to take whatever they dish out but hopefully you can.”

“Right,” Miss Mexicana said, dropping back into crisis mode and forgetting about the strange look on the man’s face. She pushed past him, raised her fists, then turned to him. “Ready?”

“Ready,” he said, adding, “I’ll be right behind you.”

She then turned to the door and kicked a thick leg up, the heavy combat boot on her foot slamming into the door and sending it flying open. She dashed forward, her fists raised and ready for a fight.

The busty superheroine had barely begun to process the layout of the well furnished apartment with its polished hard wood floors when the smell hit her like a ton of bricks. She stumbled back, the powerful odor that filled the room staggering her. The world started spinning around her and she barely managed to remain standing. And almost at once her mind fogged over, all her thoughts muddled.

Her arms dropped to her side. The smell… it was the same odor that had been clinging to the cop. But it was so much more powerful in her. Thick, more like a cloud of unseen gas then just a smell.

She swayed unsteadily from side to side, trying to remain on her feet. “Smell… so strong.” She looked behind her at the cop to ask him what it was but what she saw stopped her from asking, the sight confusing her. Her muddled mind was having a hard time processing what she saw, what it meant. What she did know was that it wasn’t right.

The cop was standing by the door, reaching behind himself to close and lock it with one hand. The other hand held the pistol and he was pointing it right at her.

“Why are you… pointing that… at me,” she said, struggling to find the correct words. The smell was just so overpowering, making her feel dumber and more disoriented with every breath.

“He’s doing what he was told to do,” a voice said. It was a male voice and it sounded like it belonged to a very young man.

Miss Mexicana turned to face the direction the voice had come from. A figure rose from behind a tall backed couch, obviously having been crouched behind it till now. The couch obscured the lower half of his figure so she could only see him from his belly up.

The figure was a narrow, tall, young man, looking like he couldn’t be a day over nineteen at the most. He had a large yellow cape draped over his shoulders and wore gloves that extended up to his elbows of the same shade of yellow. On his face he wore black domino mask that slightly hid his youthful features. But aside from the mask, the cape, and the gloves the young man wore no other clothing.

“You’re going to do what you are told, too,” he said to her with firm confidence. “And for now that’s going to be standing there, perfectly still. Do not move. Do not talk.”

Miss Mexicana felt her body lock up. She knew, although didn’t understand why, that she had to now do exactly as he told her to.

The young man looked past her, and although she couldn’t turn her head to confirm what he was looking at she knew it must be the cop behind her. “Very good, officer. I think that will be all for now. I want you to take the list I wrote you, rip it out of your pad, and eat it once you leave here. You are to leave, go back to your patrol and forget all about our meeting and the little mission I sent you on. Do you understand?”

From behind her she heard the cop respond. “Yes, Mister The Grower. I will do just as you say.” A moment later she heard the front door open and then close, leaving her alone with this supervillain whose trap she had walked right into.

He stood and stared at her, grinning happily. “Haven’t got to play with you yet,” he said. “But from the looks of things we’re going to have great fun. First, though, I want to see what those big meat monsters look like out of that top. Take it off and toss it away.”

Miss Mexicana reached behind herself and started untying the back of her bikini top and then peeled it off her breasts and tossed it to the side.

She stood straight, her huge breasts hanging heavily down her front. There was a part of her that knew how wrong this was, that was screaming for her to try and fight this young man’s control over her. He was clearly a supervillain and she knew what the supervillains in this country liked to do to heroines once they had them under their power.

But that was all a part of her that was currently suppressed and barely heard in her mind. The thick odor that filled this apartment, that assaulted her senses and stupefied her mind, was ensuring the main thing she thought about was obedience. Obedience to this barely dressed villain.

His smile grew larger as he stared at her breasts. “Incredible,” he said, glancing away from her and up towards the ceiling beside her.

If she had been able to turn her head and look where he was looking she might have noticed a barely visible shimmer in the air, but she wouldn’t have understood that it was a stealthed robot, floating there and recording everything that was happening.

“Incredible,” he said again. “They look even bigger with that top off. I think it’s because they sag so heavily down your front, their mass has been so beautifully redistributed downward without your top holding them up. I like that. Huge, heavy hanging breasts that look natural. Although with how thick they are, how dense and large they look, no one seeing them would think they belonged to a regular women. You powered slut’s breasts are just… different.”

He paused, pondering something for a moment. “This isn’t how I normally catch the heroines I fuck, you know. I’m normally more hands on. But I thought I’d choose something different today. Besides, I wanted to test how well my control over someone worked when they were gone from my presence. Normally once they are away from my stank they start to regain control of their actions fairly quickly. But I tried kicking my smell into overdrive and it looks like if I try hard enough I can keep my control over someone when they are away from me, at least for a little while.”

Miss Mexicana was trying to listen to the villain but she was finding his words hard to follow. Her mind was just so muddled, full of a thick cloud that felt harder and harder to mentally move through. It was the smell. It was just so overpowering.

“But I think it’s time you saw me, ALL of me,” The Grower said, “and understood where my power comes from and why I was so interested in bringing a woman like you here to my home.” When he stepped out from behind the couch Miss Mexicana gasped, her muddled mind barely able to understand what her eyes were seeing.

The Grower had no pants on, only a yellow utility belt around his waist and yellow boots. This left his privates fully exposed, although there would have been no way this young man could have been wearing any pants at the moment.

His cock was huge. Massive. Inhumanly so. And not just big in the way that many men with an active P-gene were blessed with. No, this was far beyond that. It hung limply all the way to the ground, the tip of the huge cockhead only an inch or two from the smooth hardwood floor below. But it wasn’t just long, it was massively thick too. It must have been over a foot thick in diameter. It looked like it belonged on some over-sized giant, not the thin frame of this young man. Yet there it was, it’s thick meaty mass covered in huge veins. And his balls were a size that matched the monster cock as well.

As he slowly walked towards Miss Mexicana the mighty cock was quickly growing larger, swelling up and growing hard.

“On your knees,” he told her firmly. She did just as she was commanded, dropping down onto her knees. As she landed on the hard floor her tits bounced and jiggled, a sight that made the villain moan in appreciation and quickened the speed his cock was hardening.

By the time he was standing before Miss Mexicana his cock was fully erect, or at least as fully erect as it could get. It wasn’t perfectly straight, sticking rigidly up into the air. Instead the thick meaty shaft drooped slightly as if there wasn’t enough blood in his body to fully fill it.

He grabbed its base with both hands as he stepped up to her, lifting it up and dropping it down on Miss Mexicana’s shoulders. It was so dense and heavy that it almost knocked her over is it landed on her. And now that it was so close, resting on her shoulder, she could tell that the stupefying odor that filled the room was coming from his massive cock.

The odor hadn’t been that of stale B.O. as she had first thought, but was rather the reek of filthy unwashed cock, the filthiest, smelliest cock she had ever smelt. The odor was even more intense now, so thick it made her want to gag and retch. Yet there was another aspect to it, a sweetly addictive undertone that led her to lean her head against the massive, bulging shaft resting on her should and start taking deep sniffs of the cock as she was filled with the desire to start licking it.

Once she had begun licking it she found that the taste was equally confusing. Foul and bitter yet so satisfying, a hint of sweaty sweetness that kept her licking. Soon she wasn’t just licking, she had her head turned to the side was sucking and slurping at the side of the cock.

Yet as she licked and sucked her true self began to swell up inside. This man and his impossibly large cock were an unnatural obscenity! The reek coming from the cock was a nauseating obscenity. The fact he was controlling her with his cock stank was an obscenity. The things her body was being driven to do, and want to do, was an obscenity.

Miss Mexicana tore her mouth away from the cock on her shoulder. “No,” she snarled, pushing the cock off of her and scrambling to her feet. She was so dizzy and disoriented that she almost fell over as she did this but she managed to right herself. She started backing away from this villain, holding her fists up and glaring at him

“Asqueroso,” she snarled in Spanish. “Pervertido! Desviada, villano asqueroso!”

The Grower seemed unconcerned that she was fighting off his control. He stood his ground and she pulled back further away from him, stumbling slightly but holding her fists up defensively. “In English, please,” he said.

“Disgusting,” she repeated in the same snarl, but now in heavily accented English. “Pervert! Deviant, disgusting villain!”

She stopped, her eyes opening wide in horror. She had done what he said. She realized he still had some control over her.

Her head darted from side to side. She had to get away, had to escape the cock stank that filled this place. This was a villain she couldn’t defeat, not on her own. And she couldn’t even begin to imagine what he intended to do with that massive, revolting, vein covered mass of meat that was his cock. There was no way he could fuck her with it, it was far too big. But clearly he had brought her here for some reason.

She turned towards the front door and started to dash towards it, her arm out before her with her elbow bent like a battering ram. She didn’t care that she was topless, she could deal with that later. She had to get away and she knew she was strong enough to simply break the door down.

Miss Mexicana only managed to get a few steps towards the door when The Grower barked for her to stop. To her horror she did, coming to an immediate stop. She turned and glared at him, trying not to look at the massive cock standing erect and pointing towards her, but the sight was inescapable.

“You will not control me,” she said defiantly. “You and your… penis, you are too disgusting. I will never do whatever it is you want me to do. That… thing, it is too repulsive! It will NEVER control me completely!”

Her voice was fierce, but full of fear. And as soon as she was done talking she started inhaling deeply. The revolting smell was just too enticing. She had to keep smelling it, inhaling it and tasting it on her tongue. Realizing what she was doing, that it was making her dizzier than she already was, she stopped. She shook her head, trying to banish the impulse to revel in the odor.

“I’ll admit, you’re a fighter,” The Grower said. “I’ve run into a few like you. There is always a way to break your will to resist, to make you into the fully obedient plaything I most enjoy. Although it’s also enjoyable breaking women like you,” he added. “Sometimes the change of pace is nice.”

“What do you even want with me?” Miss Mexicana asked.

“Oh, well, that is easy. I want your tits. See, you may have noticed how big my cock is, yes?”

Miss Mexicana made a face of disgust, making a point not to look down at the repulsive, grotesquely large penis.

The Grower chuckled then continued. “Well, as you can see I can’t really fuck a woman with it, it’s far too big to fit into anyone’s fuck hole. And being you have an active P-Gene I think you will understand just how often we supers need to get off and how distracting and eventually painful it can become if you don’t. Which was a big problem for me, since I can’t get off when my penis is normal sized.”

The heroine gave him a perplexed look. “It’s not always this… big?”

“Why of course not,” he replied. “It only grows this big when I have someone under my control. And since I already had that dumb cop under my control when you arrived it was already enlarged.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, then she made to turn and try and move away from him but found her feet were firmly planted to the floor. No matter how much she wanted to her body would not move from the place she had been told to stand in. She was still under his control, but she had hope that if she kept him talking that she would be able to break free.

“Isn’t it clear? I can only get off when I am like this, and I need to get off regularly. But I can’t fuck a woman’s pussy, her mouth, or her asshole. What does that leave? Tits. Tits to titfuck, the closest thing to a proper fuck available to me. They just have to be very large, like your magnificent mountains of mammary meat.”

Miss Mexicana’s face twisted into a grimace of disgust and fear. “You plan on… on fucking my breasts with THAT,” she said with outright terror in her face, pointing at the massive cock. “No, never. I won’t allow it. I’ll fight you, never let that happen. My breasts… I hate to have them fucked. It’s so degrading, so humiliating. And with that?”

“Oh, you will let me. And I have a feeling you will even enjoy it, they all do. But you’ll see.” He grabbed his cock with both hands, hefting it up and pointing it at her threateningly. He then started moving towards her.

She screamed and twisted away from him and actually managed to lift a leg up and take a step away from him.

That shocked The Grower. He stopped, looking at her with anger now. “You really are a fighter the likes of which I have never encountered. And I’m growing impatient. It is time to break your will.”

“You’ll never break me,” Miss Mexicana declared with renewed defiance as she glared at The Grower.

For a moment he glared back. Then a smile slowly grew on his face. “Lay down,” he told her.

Miss Mexicana’s body tensed. She could feel it starting to obey the command but she fought it. But doing so was exhausting, soon she was breathing heavy and fast. And breathing that way brought a fresh barrage of the villain’s cock stank into her body. Soon she was getting down to lie on the floor, although she grunted and groaned and moved as if she was almost able to pull her body in the other direction. It was a fight, but a fight she lost.

She was on the ground, lying on her back. Her huge breasts sagged heavily down the sides of her torso. She reached up and wrapped her arms protectively around them. “If you come near me with that thing I will fight you off. I will never allow it to be placed between these breasts,” she declared, hugging them even more tightly.

“Stop holding them like that,” he commanded, his voice startlingly firm.

Miss Mexicana was able to fight, but only for a moment. Her arms eventually pulled away from her breasts.

“Now grab them,” he said.

Again she fought against the impulse to do as he said and once again she failed. Her hands were soon holding the bottom of her breasts, lifting them up slightly.

The Grower’s smile grew larger. “You are proud of those breasts, aren’t you? But you hate having them touched by others, yes?”

She gritted her teeth trying not to answer but couldn’t stop herself. “Yes, and yes. In my home country they were a display of my power as a superheroine, something to be proud of. And I detest having them touched in any sexual manner, partially because it demeans what they mean to me. But also because… No, I won’t tell you!”

“You will,” he said, taking a step closer to her. It was enough to make the stank stronger and it broke her ability to resist.

“They… they are so sensitive. More so than any other superheroine I have encounter. I hate having them touched sexually, but anyone who does so can easily make me cum.”

“And that depowers you,” he added. “How marvelous. I know exactly how I will break you and then we can get down to business.” He paused, took a step closer increasing how much of his cock stank was assaulting her, then gave his command. “Arch your back slightly so that your breasts hang down into your face. Yes, just like that! Now I want you to start slapping yourself in the face with your tits. One at a time. Over and over again.”

She gasped, shocked by the unexpected command. A moment later she gasped again, startled by the feel of one of her large, meaty tits slapping heavily into her face. Then, a moment later, she slapped her face with the right breast. And then back to the left one. And then the right.

Each slap made her gasp, shocked by just how hard she was able to hit herself with her own breast. But the gasps were more than that. Her breasts were so sensitive and she quickly discovered that the stank partially controlling her had made them even more sensitive. Each impact into her face caused an explosion of pleasure in her breasts, intense sexual pleasure that reverberated out into her core.

She hated what she was being made to do. Hated that it felt so good, that each heavy meaty slap was inching her towards climax. She hated it but couldn’t stop it from happening.

Her gasps started to become moans. Each smack into her face caused a louder, deeper moan. Swap. Moan. Swap. Moan. The pleasure was building up inside her, an orgasm swelling and preparing to explode deep in her core. She knew it would depower her slightly and feared that would be enough for this villain to gain total control over her mind and body.

Swap. Moan. Swap. Moan. Closer and closer until finally, so near climax that she felt the need to get off, she slapped her face with both breasts at once. She didn’t moan. Instead she arched her back and howled in delight, the orgasm washing over her body feeling oh so good.

But the wave of pleasure left behind a feeling of weakness. Not enough to fully depower her, not even close. She would have still had her super strength, her superhuman endurance and physical toughness. But the orgasm didn’t just weaken her body, it weakened her mind as well.

When she was done cumming she collapsed limply on the floor, letting go of her breasts. She started breathing in slow and deep, savoring the stank that surrounded her. Her pupils dilated. Her expression eased. And then she sighed, deep and long. She had been conquered, was no longer fighting, and it felt blissful.

The Grower moved towards her, knowing he was triumphant. He could feel it. When he was controlling someone there was a link between their mind, enough so that he could read vague impressions of their thoughts and feelings. He could feel she was ready.

He was ready too. He was horny and this battle of wills had served as proper foreplay that had left him eager to fuck and feel the relief that came with a climax. His cock was ready too. The huge disgusting veins that ran down its thick surface were pulsing as his heart beat. And the tip of his cockhead was dripping a steady flow of precum.

Everything about his dick was scaled up when it grew. The shaft, his balls. Even the amount of semen he produced and had inside of him. His cock was so massive that the precum oozing out was about as much fluid as a normal man’s ejaculate, only it kept flowing at a slow steady pace. It was thick, indistinguishable from actual cum. It oozed and dripped from his cockhead, dribbling onto the floor.

He looked down at the small wet patch on the hardwood floor. His cum was why the floors were this way, much easier to clean up.

There had been enough waiting. He was ready to begin.

He walked up to Miss Mexican, standing above her with one foot on either side of her. He then squatted down, sitting on her stomach and letting his massive cock slap down onto her chest. It was so long that the top extended up past her chest and rested partially on her face.

A moment later he was pressing her tits up around his huge shaft. Then he started moving his hips, dragging the mass of cockmeat back down her body and through her breasts, then back up through them, then back down, then up. Up, down, up down, fucking her tits.

It was dry and uncomfortable at first but his cockhead was still leaking a steady flow of thick precum. Before long it was smeared on her chest, on her breasts, on his cock. Lubricating things, ensuring the movements became silky smooth and felt good.

Once his precum had her huge tits properly lubed up he really started fucking her tits, pounding them hard and fast. The top of his cock slammed into her face every time he thrust forward, bludgeoning the defeated superheroine.

But she didn’t object. She simply lay there, a distant look on her face, and allowed him to use her as he pleased. But as The Grower kept pounding her tits her expression changed into one of blissed out pleasure. Her breasts were ever so sensitive, even more so while under the effects of his power. Before long she was moaning. And not long after that she was cumming. And once she started cumming she didn’t stop. Her eyes rolled up into her head and she moaned louder, her body shuddering under The Grower as he titfucked orgasm after orgasm from her.

The villain knew what was happening and it turned him on. He was already so worked up by their little fight for control, and now this? He knew he wouldn’t be able to last long and he was okay with that. He almost always wanted his first orgasm to come fast, to help ease the painful pressure for sexual release from his mind and body.

When he started cumming he stopped fucking her tits, standing up slightly and pointing his massive cock down at Miss Mexican. The spray of semen that came out was like a blast of water from a fire hydrant. It sprayed down onto Miss Mexicana, drenching her upper body in thick almost yogurt like cum.

She gasped in amazement then was gasping for breath as her face was drenched in cum. Luckily for her the blast, although huge, was short lived. Soon she was able to freely breathe, although she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was too covered in cum.

The Grower sat back down on her semen covered torso as soon as he was done cumming. He grabbed her cummy breasts, wrapped them back around his cock, and started fucking her tits again. Although now they were drenched in cum so he wasn’t just fucking them, he was cum fucking them.

Soon Miss Mexicana was moaning and then cumming again. It only made The Grower fuck her huge tits harder.

He was unleashing the bent up sexual need for release, concentrating on the pleasure he felt and how good the release was. When he came the second time he didn’t stop fucking her tits, he kept humping her chest even as another torrential flood of semen blasted from his cockhead. As the semen pooled around them he kept fucking, pounding her cum soaked tits till he came a third time.

Only then was he sated. His cock started to grow soft, although with as big and meaty as it was it didn’t make a whole lot of difference to its overall size.

He stood up, his now drooping cock covered in cum, the semen oozing and dripping off. He took a step back and looked down at the heroine that had helped bring him release. She was so covered in cum that it took him a moment to realize she had passed out.

He smiled at her. Too many orgasms. She’d gone past being depowered and gone all the way to being unable to remain conscious. He said as much out loud, making sure anyone watching the recording of this knew exactly what had happened. “But she won’t be out for long. And when she wakes, she’ll still be fully under my control,” he told his audience.


* * *


The Game Master paused the recording and, using the mouse and keyboard before him, cut the footage there. He then dropped a black screen into the playback with the words “a short time later” and then went back to the footage, fast forwarding to after the heroine was awake. He didn’t want everything that happened after she woke to be on the copy that would be soon going to the contestants for their personal enjoyment. But he felt some of what transpired needed to be seen.

He dropped in a few different clips of what The Grower made her do after she was awake. A minute of Miss Mexican, still covered in thick cum, stepping into a showed and washing off. Then a clip of The Grower leading the freshly cleaned heroine back into his living room. He started to hand her a mop and bucket of water to use to clean up all the cum pooled up on the floor but paused.

“No,” he said. “Not yet.” He grabbed an empty bucket and handed it to her. “Clean up as much as you can with your big fat tits you Mexican whore.”

Then the footage jumped to clip of the superheroine on all fours, lowering her body into the puddle of cum. She rested on her elbows and grabbed her tits, dragging them across the floor and getting as much semen on them as she could. She then got up, moved to the nearby bucket, and dropped her cum covered tits into it. Then, pressing down on her tits against the edge of the bucket, she dragged them out as she scraped most of the cum off of them, leaving it behind in the bucket.

The Game Master left almost all of this part in, knowing the perverted criminals would love every moment of it. He also knew his other audience would love the footage as well.

Then the footage jumped to Miss Mexicana standing on a freshly cleaned floor, back in her costume. He included part of The Grower’s parting instructions to her. Him telling her that she would soon leave and once she was out on the street she would forget all of this ever happened, forget that he even existed. She’d simply remember a busy day of fighting crime, one that had left her very weak. She was to go home and sleep it off.

But he included one more little bit, a tiny addendum that was perfectly, deliciously perverse. For the next month, every few nights, she would have a vivid dream where she remembered everything that had happened in excruciating detail. When she awoke from what would certainly be to her a nightmare she would have no idea the dream had been made of memories she had been made to forget. She’d think the nightmare was a creation of her own mind, her sexual fears come to life to haunt her dreams.

After that The Game Master ended the tape. He sat back, enjoying this final entry for the week. He needed to figure out the score now. The Grower would get one point for coming in fourth place, two points for scoring Miss Mexicana, and a full five points for style, all for a total of eight points which he typed into the leader board.

He then turned in his command chair to look at a different monitor. The screen displayed the large room where the contestants had and would meet at the end of each week to go over the scoring and receive their copies of the recordings. There was a large number of floating robots that were clearly not of terrestrial creation hovering all over the room, busy fabricating the new furnishings. It would take them another day or two to finish, but he was certain they would be done in time for the weekly scoring. He hoped his contestant’s would be pleased with the changes.

Week Two Scoring


The gathered supervillains were impressed by the improvements the Game Master had made to the meeting place. The large screens displaying the leader board and playing the recordings of the scoring events were still on the walls. But the rest of the large room was totally unrecognizable.

It now reassembled an ornately furnished Victorian era gentleman’s club. Fine couches for lounging in, a full bar stocked with every kind of alcohol imaginable for self service. There were even tables that were covered in food, an open buffet that had been laid out before the first of them had arrived.

The villains were all milling about, chatting happily about their exploits from the previous week. The men that had scored this week were all being congratulated. Those that hadn’t scored were disappointed but not angry, this was a friendly game with no stakes other than bragging rights. Even those who had no points at the moment weren’t worried, they assumed this game would be going on for weeks if not months. They had plenty of time to catch up.

In the back of the room was the largest screen. It was on this that the obscured, shadowed figure they all knew as the Game Master appeared. “Congratulations, contestants. You made this week a pure joy to judge and this lounge is your reward.”

The men all applauded.

“Keep up the applause but give it not to me, but instead to our current champion David Daringwood! I find it truly impressive that a man with no powers has managed to take such a big, early lead. But rest assured the rest of you can catch up in the coming weeks.

“As you see the scores for the targets have been updated. There is now a growing diversity in how much each heroine is worth and I know that this will only continue to grow in the coming weeks.

“Now enjoy the evening, this lounge will be open to you all but only on these meeting nights. Drink, eat, make merry and then go home and rest during the weekend, because a new round will begin at 12:01 am Monday morning!”


Week One Leader Board


David Daringwood – 16 Points

Crimson Cyborg – 11 Points

Eros’ Arrow – 8 Points

The Grower – 8 Points

The Shaft – 5 Points

Brain Master – 5 Points

The Dicktator – 0 Points

The Gasser – 0 Points

Sleepmeister – 0 Points


Target values going into week three:


Agent Purple – 3

Agent Silver – 2

Amazonia – 3

Archbaroness – 3

Bovine Justice – 3

Brickhouse – 1

Crimson Tide – 3

Electro-Girl – 3

The Enlarger – 2

Fire – 3

Freya – 3

Gravity Girl – 3

Heleena the Healer – 2

Lady Centurion – 3

Lady Midnight – 3

Mary-Annette – 1

Miss Mexicana – 1

Opal Enchantress – 3

Pink Obsession – 3

Psychia – 3

Pussy Whip – 3

Sister Tempest – 1

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