Here’s another start to a Fortune City poll driven story! This will be the last one I’m starting till one of the currently ongoing stories has a character/even that feels appropriate to peel off and be its own story. Till then we’ll be cycling through these and adding to them!
Number Three finished typing out one last paragraph then pulled away from the computer and leaned back in his chair. He felt tired and worn out, his brain completely drained. He’d been working on this project for… he wasn’t sure how long. Time was rather meaningless within their hidden underground lab. He rarely knew whether it was day or night in the city above and he often didn’t even know what day it was.
All that mattered was the science. The research. The next breakthrough. It’s what T.AR.G.E.T. existed for. It’s why he was a passionate member of the super science terrorist organization. He believed a better world could be created, could be forced into existence, by the kind of super science he and all the other members of T.A.R.G.E.T. worked on making a reality.
But even with the best cybernetic enchantments and advanced drugs T.A.R.G.E.T. had at its disposal its scientists were still mortal. They had plenty of options for when their bodies tired, but mental fatigue was something every T.A.R.G.E.T. cell struggled with. There were always too many projects and too many experiments to be conducted with too few scientists to do all the work. Every minute they had to rest due to mental fatigue was one more minute further from T.A.R.G.E.T. being able to fix the world. Every member was confident that one day they would cure the world, it would just take far more scientific breakthroughs.
Number Three held an arm up, activating the touch screen built into the wrist of his green tech-armor. Like almost every member of T.A.R.G.E.T. Number Three spent as much of his life in the green tech-armor his organization was most known for. To outsiders it made every member of the organization appear as an interchangeable piece of a faceless green horde of terror. But to those within T.A.R.G.E.T. the green suits were the manifestation of everything they had collectively achieved.
The green suits were more than a uniform, more than even high tech battle armor. It did far more than protect them, it augmented their physical strength to the point that any member was strong enough to fight hand to hand with most superheroines on the lower end of the power scale. Most suits were also augmented for flight and had at least some built-in weapons systems, although the specifics of the tech-armor changed from cell to cell and from member to member as most members modified their suits to match whatever task they currently worked on.
When needed the suits could also administer performance-enhancing drugs or pump in chemicals to help its owner heal faster. Physical fatigue could easily be fended off with the push of a button and a fresh adrenaline shot. Number Three had been dosing heavily for a while now, keeping his body awake and at peak efficacy. But his mind was another matter; it had reached the point that it would need sleep or something equally mentally refreshing.
He reached up and activated the release mechanism at the base of his suit’s helmet. The tech-armor hissed and clicked as parts unlocked and the helmet came unsealed. With his eyes closed he took it off and placed it on the desk he was sitting at.
The first slow, deep breath of air he took in tasted wrong. It always did, the world outside the suit always felt wrong. When he slowly opened his eyes, allowing them to adjust to the harsh lights in the lab, he thought the world looked wrong too. He always missed the overlay the bug like lenses of the helmet displayed, he missed the way the overlay analyzed everything he looked at. The world seen with just his eyes seemed so empty to him…
But he had to take the helmet off. His head hurt and he needed to be able to reach up and massage his temples with his fingers. “I need a recharge, I can’t do any more work without one,” he muttered, thankful that massaging his head didn’t require taking off the suit’s gloves. Being without the helmet was bad enough.
He took in a deep breath and sat up straight, holding his arm up again and typing a quick command into the touch screen on his wrist. He needed their lab aid, Braingasm. “Stupid name,” he muttered, thinking about the girl. They always gave the powered members stupid names just like the hated superheroines did. He didn’t understand the need to copy them but it was what the organization had always done so who was he to question it?
“At least they don’t let her wear a green suit,” he said to himself as he waited for her to arrive. “She’s not a member of T.AR.G.E.T., not really. She’s more of a… thing we use.” He hated that they needed her yet thinking about how she was used brought a smile to his tired face.
He got up, deciding to leave his helmet off during her visit. As much as he hated having the helmet off he had always felt to having it off made her visits a lot more intimate.
There was a mirror nearby so he decided to take a quick look at himself before she arrived. The face of a middle-aged black man with short graying hair stared back at him. He looked tired but other than that he was presentable. He’d been proud of his good looks once, but that had stopped mattering once he had joined T.A.R.G.E.T. and gotten his suit. But there was always a bit of the once vain young man he had been that bubbled up when he had to use Braingasm to recharge his mind. They way she was used reminded him of pleasures that used to be important before curing the world of its sickness through science became the only thing that mattered in his life.
A moment later the door to his lab slid open and he turned to see Braingasm walking in. She was a pudgy little white girl with long dark hair, big chunky glasses on her face making her already big eyes look bigger. She had a face that few would call “ugly” but that no one would call “beautiful”. Her face was like the rest of her, as far as Number Three was concerned: utilitarian.
She “wore” what served as her uniform: a pair of skin-tight green leggings the same color as the proper T.A.R.G.E.T. member’s tech-armor along with a pair of clunky black army boots and nothing else. From the belly up the young girl was totally naked, her plump body with its pasty white skin on display. She’d been in the base for some time now and it finally seemed that Braingasm was at ease dressed like this. The “outfit” was functional, after all, her greatest assets not only on display but readily available for use.
Those assets were, of course, her large breasts. He stared at them as she walked up to him and saluted, enjoying the way they jiggled as she threw her arm up. The short, plump girl had a thick build that often came with larger than normal breasts. He was sure breasts had been big before her Power-Gene activated, but afterward they’d definitely gotten bigger. What was the saying? “She’s stacked like a superheroine.” Powered women tended to have larger breasts, many of them unnaturally so.
Braingasm’s breasts weren’t unnaturally large, but they were still impressible big, especially compared to how short of a woman she was. Anyone seeing her topless was sure to suspect she had powers with how big they were. Each large, meaty, heavy hanging breast was larger than her head; although the way the naturally sagging, narrow shape they had when she was standing made them look a bit smaller then Number Three knew they really were.
“Sir?” she asked, her voice quiet and nervous.
Number Three blinked and looked up, realizing he had been staring at her tits. Then he realized he hadn’t returned her salute and did so, letting her drop her arm to her side.
“You are in need of a mental refreshing?” she asked, still sounding nervous.
What a fucking stupid question, he thought. Of course that’s why I’ve called you in here, you pasty, fat-assed white slut. The girl was necessary and he even enjoyed her “mental refreshers”, but the fact her presence was so necessary filled him with an irrational dislike of her. But he had always tried to not let this show, although he knew he failed at this more often than he succeeded and she was always timid and nervous whenever he called her into his lab.
“Yes,” he finally replied, reaching a hand up to rub the side of his head. “I’m suffering major brain drain right now.” He started to turn to return to his chair but stopped, turning back around to stare at her breasts again. “How full are you? I don’t know how much the other members of the cell have used you recently. I need a pretty big mental boost and want to know how much I should expect to get from you. From them,” he added, pointing at her breasts.
She furrowed her brow and gently cupped the bottom of her breasts, lifting them up as if weighing them. “I’m just about… full,” she said, pausing before choosing the final word. After letting go of her breasts she continued. “No one else has needed me-” she paused, correcting herself. “Needed them for a while and I’m pretty much fully charged up,” she said touching one of her breasts, “and here,” she added, tapping the side of her head. As she did this she glared at him, as if trying to remind him that there was more to her than just her breasts.
A moment later she leaned to the side and looked past Number Three to the screen behind him. “My brain’s charged up enough that I can tell you’ve done the last few calculations wrong.” She started to move towards his computer, an eager look suddenly on her face. “Why don’t you let me just correct them real fast.”
He grabbed her arm as she went to move past him and held her back. “No,” he said firmly. “That’s not what I need you for. Once we are done I’ll be able to fix it myself.”
Number Three felt the enthusiasm deflate out of her and could see her posture slump and her expression fall. “Of course,” she mumbled, stepping back away from the computer. When he let go of her arm she turned and flashed an unconvincing smile. “Do you want to sit down for it, or should I kneel before you? Or do you want me on my back?”
“On your knees,” he said, pointing to the ground next to the chair sitting at his computer station. “You know that’s how I like it best.”
He moved to his chair, spinning it around to face away from the computer and sat down. As he got comfortable he spread his legs and touched a button on his wrist screen. While he continued to shift in his chair the crotch of his green tech-armor retracted, the segments pulling apart and sliding back into the armor around the crotch. When it was done he was left with the front of his armor open from his waist down to his mid thighs.
His dick was already half erect in anticipation of what was about to happen and as soon as it had been exposed Braingasm’s eyes became fixed on it. Once he seemed comfortable she stepped up to the chair and got down on her knees before him.
She reached for his dick and started to lean down, obviously intending to suck him off. But he barked, “No,” causing her to pull back. “Not today. Today I want to get hard while warming you up.” The girl winced slightly and blushed. She knew exactly what he meant and she didn’t look too happy about it.
It didn’t bother him that it seemed to bother her. First of all, it was her job. Second, she had to get “warmed up” for it to work and this was the fasted way. And third, by the time he was hard she’d be moaning and begging for him to keep going.
He reached down, gently grabbing hold of her large breasts and giving them both a gentle grope to remind his hands just how big and thick and soft they were. They’d done this countless times and the more he did it the more he liked to savor it. There was an almost addictive quality to what they were starting and there was a reckless part of him that leaned into that feeling of addiction.
After the initial little grope he pulled his hands away slightly, leaving just the tips of his index fingers on her breasts. Slowly he ran his fingers towards her nipples, enjoying the feel of how soft her skin was, enjoying the contrast of his dark-skinned fingers running along her pasty white skin. On his way to her nipples he followed one of the deliciously pleasing blue veins running just under her skin that he loved so much, tracing it with one of his fingers.
Once he got to her pink nipples he ran his fingers around their edges. He adored her nipples, adored how big her areolas were, adored the way their flesh pebbled and grew bumpy as his finger caressed the skin around them. Slowly he continued to run his fingers in circles around her nipples, but gradually closed that circle in closer to the fleshy nubs in the center. By the time his fingertips reached them they had swollen up, puffy and engorged and just waiting to be touched.
He grabbed hold of them between his index fingers and thumbs, gently rolling them between his fingers as the nubs got even harder. Braingasm moaned quietly, making it clear she was already starting to get warmed up. He squeezed them between his fingers, making her moan louder, then started to lightly tug on them.
Looking up from her tits he could see that she was blushing furiously, breathing heavy with her mouth open slightly as she stared up at him. Her expression was so different than when he last looked at it. No more hesitation, no more discomfort. Only desire, a pathetic look of pleading for him to continue that filling her eyes. The look made him smile, made him feel that he had total control over her. He tugged her nipples a bit harder, watching her gasp, enjoying the way her eyes flickered up into her head as he tugged on them.
He let go of her nipples and placed the palms of his hands on the top of her chest, right above the initial swell of her breasts. A moment later he was slowly running his hands down the front of her breasts, gently caressing them. Then, watching her face to see her reaction, he pulled his right hand away from her breast then quickly slapped it. She gasped, her eyes opening wide and winced in pain but that pain was only on her face for a moment, melting into a shudder of pleasure.
Her tits are so fucking sensitive, he thought. So fucking sensitive that even painful stimulation quickly becomes a strong pleasurable sexual sensation. He loved that, loved the way hurting her breasts actually brought her pleasure instead of real pain.
He slapped her other breast, but even as the pain melted into pleasure on her face he had grabbed hold of her nipples. He rolled them between his fingertips again, but harder this time. Then he slowly started lifting her breasts up, her nipples held tight between forefinger and thumb. She moaned appreciatively at first but the further up he lifted her nipples the more the weight of her over-large breasts pulled down, making the gripping pinches more and more painful. He lifted up till her moans had become shuddering gasps of confused pain and pleasure.
Then he let go, letting her heavy breasts drop. He watched the way they fell, tit-meat slapping down onto her body, reveling in the way her tits jiggled after they landed. Before they had settled he threw his hands out to the sides, bringing them back in towards each breast and slapping them hard, causing them to slam together.
She made a sound that was half yelp of pain and half groan of intense pleasure. He pulled his hands out to do it again but she yelled, “Stop!” He held off, staring at her and waiting for an explanation. He looked at her, her face flush, mouth open slightly with a look of intense arousal. “I’ll cum if you do that again,” she moaned, her lip quivering. “We shouldn’t waste it.”
He nodded, understanding what she meant. He realized that he had gotten carried away. This was just supposed to be a warm-up for both of them. “I’m hard now,” he said eagerly, “let’s begin.”
Number Three leaned back slightly in his chair, spreading his legs open wider as Braingasm moved in closer to his body. She grabbed her breast, lifting them up as she pressed in between his legs. A moment later her breasts were pressed into him, half resting on his thighs with his rock hard cock standing erect between them.
She shifted how she was holding her breasts, letting them fall all the way onto his body and half wrapping her arms around them as she pressed them in around his cock. She paused, pulling them apart slightly and leaning down to spit on his cock, then sat back up and pressed her tits in around his cock again.
Looking up at him, a dreamy blissed-out look on her face, she started to bounce her breasts up and down around his shaft. She moaned in delight, her eyebrows twisting up in pleasure and her breathing increasing till she was gasping between long moans.
This always amazed him, always amazed him that giving a man a titjob could bring her so much pleasure. All she had to do was keep her tits wrapped tightly around his cock and bounce them up and down and before long she’d cum. And as the pleasure built, as she grew closer to climax, he could feel a connection building between them.
She shifted her hands so that she could be grabbing and pinching at her nipples as she worked his cock with her tits. As soon as she started to do that she had her first orgasm.
As she moaned and shuddered and kept bouncing her tits Number Three felt a sudden surge of energy shoot into his body. It radiated out from her breasts, flowing into his cock then up his body and into his mind. While she was climaxing his mind was connected to hers and while they were connected her intellect, her intelligence, poured out of her mind and into his.
Her orgasm ended and he blinked, his mind feeling much less foggy. It had helped but he needed more, gasping out loud to tell her so. She kept pinching and tugging at her nipples as she bounced her tits up and down his hard shaft. When the spit lubricating the motions started to dry out and the friction between their bodies started to burn she leaned down, pressing her face into her breasts so she could take his cock into her mouth. She sucked him off just long enough to get his cock covered in slimy, slippery saliva again.
The refreshed lubrication had both of them moaning in delight and it wasn’t long before Braingasm was cumming again. And as she came more of her intellect poured into him, refreshing his mind and starting to supercharge it.
Panting in pleasure, he pushed her hands off her breasts, grabbing them and squeezing them more tightly around his cock. He started bouncing them himself, thrusting his hips as he did. She was no longer giving him a titjob, now he was fucking her tits. He’d tit-pound a few more orgasms out of her, draining as much of her mental power as he could before he came.
But by that point he wasn’t really fucking her tits to refresh and supercharged his mind anymore. At that point he was lost in the sexual joy of humping her chest, caring only about pounding them harder so he could get off sooner. His sexual lust and the male need to fuck and cum had taken over and it showed. It showed in the determined snarl on his face as he stared at her tits jiggling as he pounded into them, showed in the way he grunted and groaned so aggressively.
“I love fucking your big, fat, vein covered tits,” he growled. “No,” he said, correcting himself as he pounded them even harder. “Not tits. These big thick saggy meat-sacks aren’t tits, these are fucking udders! Big saggy cow’s udders. Women have tits, cows have udders.”
He was rambling, barely making sense.
“They are so fucking big and thick and dense yet so fucking soft. And it’s so fucking hot watching you cum your brains out from a hard titfucking. Watching you literally cum yourself stupid as I drain you of your intelligence!
“Not just seeing it, but feeling it. Feeling you supercharge my mind while you cum, feeling myself become more while you become less. Feeling your intelligence flow into me till you’re left with nothing, till you’re nothing but a moaning drooling cum-stupid slut with fat cow-udders!”
She was moaning and cumming while staring up at him. Behind the look of blissed-out pleasure there was pain in her eyes. The verbal abuse clearly hurt her, and seeing that only made Number Three double down and want to be crueler to the girl. But he didn’t get the chance. The look on her face was enough to push him over the edge.
As soon as he started to cum he let go of her tits and grabbed his cock, knowing what was expected. She pulled back slightly, grabbing her breasts and holding them up as if presenting them to him. He grunted and unloaded onto her tits, spurting a huge load of cum all over them.
The moment he had finished cumming he went limp, his arms falling to his sides and letting out a long sigh of satisfaction. He luxuriated in post-orgasmic bliss for a moment, staring at his cum on her tits. He’d been backed up and there was quite a bit of it, but he knew he wouldn’t have long to appreciate the sight.
Within moments the thick load of cum on her breasts began to disappear. It looked as if it was soaking into her skin, which was exactly what was happening. He didn’t understand how it happened, he just knew it was important. He’d sucked so much intelligence out of her that she’d have barely had the brain power left to function on even the most primal of levels. But her breasts, her strange wonderful breasts, would soak up any cum on them and somehow convert it into mental energy. Even when a man drained her of all her intelligence his cum afterward would recharge her mind enough to leave her functional, although often rather dumb.
Her brain would slowly recharge, gradually returning to its natural state. But if her services were needed faster than her mind could recharge it was possible to speed up the process, it would just require a lot of men cumming on her tits in a very short time.
Number Three sat up and stretched. He tucked his now soft cock away and pushed a button that closed his suit. “My mind feels… fuck, not just recharged but better than ever! I can now return to my project. And you can go,” he added as an afterthought, waving her away as he turned to put his helmet back on. As it clicked into place the voice box crackled and his now armor-modified voice added, “Finding you was the best thing that ever happened for this T.A.R.G.E.T. cell. You’re irreplaceable.” He then turned and returned to his work, seemingly already having forgotten she was in the room with him.
* * *
The best thing that ever happened to us, she thought bitterly as she got to her feet. Irreplaceable, she thought, angry that was the closest thing to thanks she’d ever gotten from these T.A.R.G.E.T. members.
As she left the lab she tried to get control of her emotions. When her mind was this drained, with so much of her intelligence gone, it was hard to not be driven by pure emotions. When her mind was fully charged she was a super-genius on par with any other superhuman whose power was an inhuman intellect. She could have easily finished many of the projects the cell here was working on in half the time it took their normal human scientists. But they didn’t use her intelligence that way. There weren’t proper female T.A.R.G.E.T. members, at least none that she had ever heard of. If they allowed a woman to be part of their ranks it was only ever in this way: not as a person but as a thing.
Now that we are seeing the story from Braingasm’s point of view we need to decide what will be driving her story during the next entry. (Choose up to 2 options from this poll)