I am blushing like a schoolgirl but try my best not to fidget. His eyes are\nscanning across my svelte figure probingly, carefully examining every inch of a\ntall and athletic frame. A skin-hugging costume leaves little to the\nimagination. The sheer fabric, weaved from a batch of unstable molecules,\nconforms perfectly to every bend, dimple, and bump. Strips of the nearly\nindestructible cloth taper down from beneath my breasts, adhering to the sides\nof a narrow waist and joining with my bikini bottom at the top of my hips. My\ntummy is bare, as is my lower back. The bikini bottom is black but fits me so\nsnuggly that an outline of my labia is visible to the inquisitive eyes\ninspecting me.
\n“Um-huh,” he mutters while tapping his chin with a slender finger.
\nI stand tall, proud, and remind myself that this man is no stranger. I have\nknown him since the beginning, since the first time he slipped a hypodermic\nneedle into the vein of a naive but willing young woman and injected her with\nCaantonium serum. In a sense, he is my father, as responsible as anyone for the\ncreation of Ms. Marvelous.
\n“So, what do you think, Thomas?”
\nHe continues to eye me, focusing frequently on my breasts but also taking the\ntime to examine my hips and legs. He circles me slowly, getting a good look at\nmy butt. A gentle hand moves my golden hair from one side to the other so that\nthe back of my neck and shoulders can be inspected. I feel the cool stainless\nsteel of a stethoscope pressing against my skin. The stethoscope falls away and\nhis hand softly caresses the crease of my spine, between my shoulder blades,\nthen slides lower on my back and intently across the bare flesh. “Um-huh,” he\nrepeats.
\n“Anything more specific?”
\nHe eventually slides past and stands in front of me, close, and peers into my\nwide blue eyes. Fingers gently touch my cheek. Without asking permission, he\ncarefully removes my mask and slips it into the pocket of a white lab coat. He\ncan see that I am blushing, now, and I think I see a glint of amusement in his\nexpression. Not like my father, I think. Too young for that. And certainly too\ngood looking.
\n“You say that it is getting worse?” he finally asks.
\n“Maybe not worse…” I stammer. “Maybe just… I don’t know. Like they know that it\nis my weakness and they are getting better at taking advantage of it. If only it\nwere still a secret, like when I first started out. If only they didn’t know.”
\n“The criminals, you mean?”
\nI nod my head. “It’s like, you know, they’re getting more persistent or\nsomething. They keep trying, no matter how many times I knock them down, and\neventually someone touches me in the right spot… a sensitive spot… and I… well,\nyou know?”
\n“You become aroused?”
\nI shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “It is more than that, I\nthink. I have these… fantasies. It is hard to explain… to control… almost like,\nI don’t know, like I want something to happen.” He holds me, his hands moving\nslowly down across my shoulders and arms. He massages the muscles, releasing the\ntension. “Do you? Want something to happen, I mean?”
\n“I… don’t think so. I mean, why would I?”
\nHis demeanor remains stoic, an impressive feat considering his usual boyish\ncharm. “But the fantasies are quite vivid, yes? And can I assume that they are\nof a less than delicate nature? Domination themes, perhaps? And in these\nfantasies, are you the submissive one? Are you overcome by a stronger, more\npersistent, opponent? Overpowered? Do your adversaries have their way with you?”
\nMy cheeks are absolutely burning, now. “I suppose,” I whisper in a voice so soft\nthat it is barely audible. “Sexual masochism, to one degree or another, is not\nuncommon in young women. In your case, however, it may be that normal\nsubconscious fantasies of being forced into sexual acts against your will have\nbeen somehow augmented by the Caantonium. Do you imagine yourself being bound?\nAre you tied up or otherwise rendered helpless? Are you humiliated?”
\nI am slow to answer and he continues the inspection. Deliberate hands brush\nacross my chest. There is an almost apologetic look in his eyes as he carefully\nlifts the sheer fabric and folds it above my breasts. The air in
\nthe examination room suddenly seems cool as it caresses my bare skin. My pulse\nquickens as knowing fingers draw the first of many broad strokes around the\noutsides of my soft, round mounds.
\n“And do these fantasies, vivid as they are, weaken you physically? Or is it just\nthat they enfeeble your will? Do they enervate your desire to resist?”
\nI turn my head to the side so that I do not have to look at him. A medical exam\nshould not be this erotic. Thomas Eiffel is a doctor and a scientist. I am his\npatient. But I cannot deny the response of my super-powered body to his probing\ntouch. The circles that he is tracing on my breasts are becoming smaller. My\nbreath grows short as skilled fingers draw ever closer to my nipples.
\n“Yes…” I manage to reply. “They weaken me in both respects, almost as much as\nthe unabashed efforts of my despicable foes.”
\n“Um-huh…”
\nMy nipples become hard pebbles between his gentle fingertips. I bite my lower\nlip and realize that Thomas is not examining my breasts as much as he is\nwatching my reactions. Yet, he is not a purely impassionate observer. He is also\na man and has been in my presence for almost twenty minutes, looking at my\nincredible female body, breathing in my supercharged pheromones, touching and\nfeeling me. He knows as well as I do of my power to attract, of my\nuncontrollable ability to fill both men and women with sexual desire. I do not\nneed to look down to know that my tits are swelling or that his fingers are now\nstroking me more intently. I do not need to look down to know that there is a\nspot of moisture staining my bikini bottom and that there is a large bulge\nprotruding from beneath his lab coat. Will he be able to restrain himself, I\nwonder? And what about me? Can I restrain myself? Or is the fantasy now stirring\nin my head a thing that cannot be ignored? Damn, why does this young doctor have\nto be so good looking? And why do his fingers have to be so talented? I cannot\nhelp myself. I am forced to acknowledge the images forming in my mind, forced to\nthink about a doctor taking advantage of a young female patient. She is helpless\nto resist him, helpless to prevent him from ravaging her angelic body. She does\nnot pull away as he torments her tits. She does not cry out as he carries her in\nhis arms and lays her on the examination table. He removes her costume, peeling\nit away just as he did her mask, striping bare the vestiges of her power. He\nspreads her long legs and climbs between them. He drives home an enormous cock.\nThe young super-heroine is defeated utterly, her amazing body pillaged and\nplundered time after time until, with no strength left, she gives herself up\nentirely to the overwhelming sensations and becomes his devoted servant. “I…”
\n“It is alright,” he says softly. “Just a little bit more.”
\nMy head turns toward him and wide blue eyes stare spellbound into his face. His\nexpression is not quite as stoic as it had been. The demeanor of professionalism\nseems to have faded, if only just a bit. His lips are slightly parted. His\nbreathing is irregular. I can tell that he is excited. The investigation\ncontinues. Oh, god, my nipples are so hard. Powerful sensations are streaming\nthrough my tits and filling my body. I look down at his fingers, watching\ndumbfounded as they draw light circles around and over my swollen boobs. A\ncapitulating sigh escapes from between my pouting lips. It is becoming difficult\nto remain standing. I feel weak. I feel powerless.
\nThis is not a normal examination, obviously. Thomas has been expertly stroking\nmy sensitive mounds for more than three minutes. The fantasy of being dominated\nand fucked by this man is now strong in my mind. It threatens to steal away my\nidentity, to transform me into something other than a heroine, to change me into\nsomething more akin to a sexual slave. My breasts are heavy, engorged with\nblood. Veins throb beneath the flushed skin. My pussy, though untouched, is wet\nwith desire. Oh, god, maybe I do want it, I think. Maybe I do want him to throw\nme down across the examination table and rape me!
\n“No…” I manage to whisper. “No more… that’s enough…”
\nHis face changes, as if he is snapping out of a trance, and his cheeks redden.\nHe clears his voice. “Yes, well then… I think that I have all the information\nthat I require.”
\nHe folds my costume back the way it was, once again covering my breasts. I can\ntell that he is self conscious about the hard spike poking up from beneath his\nlab coat and I try not to stare. We are both uncomfortable and the room remains\nsilent for a long time. Finally, he touches my chin and forces me to look at\nhim. “You are more than just pheromones, Jody. You possess the strength of ten\nmen. My best advice to you is not to let your enemies touch you. Strike them.\nDebilitate them. Finish them. Use the powers that the Caantonium gave you. Be\nbrutal, if you must.”
\nI compel myself to focus, to breathe, to abandon the lingering fantasy and\nreturn to reality. “I do not like hurting people, Thomas, not even criminals. I\nuse only as much strength as is required.”
\nHe steps back, putting some distance between us. His hands are in his pockets,\npurposefully hidden and unthreatening. The demeanor of stoic professionalism has\nreturned, more quickly than I would have thought possible. “I am sure you will\ndo what you think is best. But if you are hoping that I can provide some cure\nfor your condition then I am afraid that I must disappoint you. For, you see,\nthere is really nothing to be cured. Your sensitivity to sensual stimulation,\nthis condition that we have named the Sartak, is an ingrained part of your\nenhanced physiology. And though it is rooted in your endocrine system, I believe\nthat it possesses some type of direct channel into your central nervous system\nthat allows it to stimulate your brain. Surely, this is the only plausible\nexplanation for such an, um… overactive imagination.”
\nIf only I could regain my composure as quickly as Thomas. But my body remains\naquiver with erotic sensations. My golden-tan skin is flushed. Swollen nipples\nare aching. A moist womanhood yearns for satisfaction. This is not what I had in\nmind when I came here. I came for answers, not a demonstration. And now, aroused\nand weakened, all I can do is pretend to be fine.
\n“What do you mean?” I ask in the best voice I can muster.
\nHe pauses, thinking. “I believe that multiple processes are taking place within\nyour body, Jody. The aspect of physical stimulation is rather easy to\nunderstand- your body is many times stronger than that of a normal woman, many\ntimes faster, and, most would say, many times more beautiful. It is also many\ntimes more sensitive, so sensitive, in fact, that stimulation of its erogenous\nzones can send it into a state of erotic system shock.” “The Sartak.”
\n“Yes, a convenient acronym for System Adrenal Response Threshold and Kinesis. We\nhave known for some time, of course, that the Sartak only seems to appear in our\nfemale agents. This is apparently due to the female body’s superior ability to\nabsorb Caantonium. And while the increased Caantonium uptake allows us to\nproduce stronger agents, the drawbacks of this weakness are so severe that the\nAgent-X Program no longer wastes its resources on-”
\n“On people like me.”
\nThomas notices my scowl and quickly apologizes. “Ah, yes, that did not come out\nright. It is not so much a waste as a… well, you know.”
\nI decide to let it go. After all, of the three female agents created by the\nAgent-X Program, two are dead, having quite literally been fucked into oblivion,\nand the third has abandoned the program to pursue to a career as an independent\ncrime fighter. Still, I stick by my decisions. In my short stint as Ms.\nMarvelous, I have done more good than the Agent-X Program ever has or likely\never will.
\n“In any case,” he continues, “we have a basic understanding of why your body\nreacts the way that it does to sexual stimulation. What is not so well\nunderstood is why you experience these fantasies of being dominated. Once again,\nmy theory is that there is some kind of direct connection between your hormonal\nsystem and brain. It seems that physical stimulation causes changes in the\nneurosensory pathways, leading to increased activity in the basal ganglia and\nanterior insula cortex. Put simply, the sensations that you feel evoke\nfantastically vivid erotic images while simultaneously suppressing your\ninhibitions.”
\n“Oh, god,” I groan. “So, you’re saying that I am destined to become an impulsive\nnymphomaniac any time a criminal manages to rub a hand across me?”
\nThomas shrugs sympathetically. “It might be possible to discover more in a truly\nclinical observation. If we were to hook you up to neuroimaging monitors while\nat the same time evoking your sexual fantasies, we might be able to learn the\nspecific causes of your condition.”
\n“What would this require?” I ask hesitantly.
\nHe pauses before answering. “It would require that I observe your climax, Jody.\nTo be blunt, I would have to stimulate you to the point of an orgasm.”
\nI blush uncontrollably as thoughts of Thomas touching me with those talented\nfingers visualize in my head. To have him stroking me, fingering my clit,\npatiently rubbing me until I can endure no more, until I explode in a fiery\nclimax-
\n“I do not think that it is such a good idea,” I cough.
\n“I can assure you that we would take every precaution, of course. There would be\nlittle danger.” “There is always danger,” I quickly correct him. “For me, an\norgasm is a potentially life-threatening event. Besides, I am not in the habit\nof letting men… I mean… letting them touch me… in that way.” He seems to\nunderstand and for a moment the expression of a doctor is replaced by that of a\nfriend. His eyes soften and I think he sees me differently, not as an\nindestructible super-heroine but as an innocent, twenty-
\ntwo year old girl. He cannot know all the things that I have seen, all the evil\nand corruption that I have witnessed. In his eyes, I am young and virtuous,\nbarely more than a child. But then, all too quickly, the eyes harden and the\ndoctor returns.
\n“We needn’t make a decision, now. In any case, there are likely to be\npsychological factors at work, as well. Certainly, the extraordinary physical\nand mental responses you have reported when encountering men that have, um… had\nyou before… tend to indicate that something is happening that goes beyond the\npurely physiological. And because the Sartak drastically lowers your\ninhibitions, it is likely that you will continue to be especially vulnerable to\nerotic fantasies when coming face to face with former sexual partners.” He\nstammers for a moment, fearing, perhaps, that he has unintentionally insulted\nme. “Um, is it alright if I call them that? Sexual partners, I mean?”
\n“Assholes. You can call them assholes.”
\n“Yes, well… unfortunately, we simply do not understand much more about this\nprocess at this time.” “And I do not imagine that finding out is a priority?”
\nHis shoulders droop. “The Agent-X Program does not currently have any female\nagents, Jody.” “No, I do not suppose that you do. Thank you for your time,\nThomas. I know that you did not have to see me.”
\nHe stops me before I reach the door, touching me lightly on the shoulder. An\nunwanted quiver of excitement works its way through my aroused body and for a\nmoment I think that he wants to continue the examination. A hand reaches into\nhis pocket. “I think you will be needing this, Ms. Marvelous.” I take back my\nmask and smile. No regrets.
\nI am tumbling through the sky. A long blonde mane flaps wildly behind me in the\nrushing air. It is like screaming in my ears, the howl of the wind, taunting me\nas fall. My speed is increasing. I have the power to fly but this is not flying.\nThis is falling… out of control…
\n“Uuunnnggghhh…”
\nAll I can feel is pain. Every nerve ending feels like it is on fire. A million\nravenous ants digging beneath my skin. The ground is rushing up to meet me. I\ntry to regain control, try to adjust my angle of descent, to slow my velocity,\nbut it is no good. I am a meteorite, a prisoner of gravity. There can be but one\nresult
\nThe impact is jolting. My right shoulder careens off the railing of a fifth\nfloor fire escape and my body cartwheels end over end. An electrical wire\nmomentarily slows my fall before snapping in a shower of white-hot sparks. I\nglance upward at the clear blue sky in the instant before smashing down atop an\nold Chevy Impala. The sheet metal roof collapses beneath me, crinkling like an\nempty soda can stomped flat beneath the boot of a heavy man. It conforms to the\nshape of my body, nearly trapping me within sharp metallic folds. “Oh, god…” I\ngroan while browning out. “Hope no one… inside…”
\nI lay there atop the crushed car, my body feeling like mush and my vision\nclouded by flickering stars. It is then that I see her for the first time. A\nglint of sunlight reflects off of bronze-shimmering body armor as she slowly\ndescends from the sky. The hiss of a jetpack grows louder as she passes just\noverhead and lands nearby. The shrill sound fades as she turns the unit off. I\nthink I hear a muted chuckle. I cannot see her, now, but she is there, beside\nthe car, on my left side, looking down at me.
\n“Still alive, delicious child?” she asks in a voice that is partially muffled\nbehind a metal mask. “Surely, there is more to the famous Ms. Marvelous than\nthis?”
\nMy fingertips bite deep into the crumpled metal of the Impala’s roof as I\nstruggle to lift myself. I want to meet this unidentified foe as a champion,\nstrong and brave, to show her my unbending resolve, but the best I can manage is\nan agonized whimper. I collapse back onto the car and groan miserably. Every\npart of my five foot nine inch body feels broken.
\n“Poor little girl!” she exclaims with mock sympathy. “Allow me to help you off\nof that old clunker!” My arm is gripped by strong, armor encased fingers. I am\ndragged from atop the car like an inanimate thing and allowed to flop down onto\nthe hard asphalt. I roll onto my left hip and grasp weakly at the leg of my foe.\nI gasp as pain stabs through my body. It is then, just as I manage to pull\nmyself up almost into a sitting position,
\nthat I feel her fingers intertwining with my hair. She pulls back on my head,\nforcing me to look upward into the mirrored glass that hides her eyes.
\n“As much as I enjoy having you grovel at my feet, child, I would much rather\nhear you beg for your life. Will you beg for me? Will you?”
\nI shift my position atop the ground, forcing long legs to fold and slide under\nme. I grab her wrist in my hands and struggle to rise. A violent tug on my hair\nreminds me that she is in control and that my defiance will not be tolerated.\nThe mask reveals no expression but I can tell that she is enjoying this. I see\nmy face reflected in her goggles. I see how hurt and defenseless I look. I see\nthe powerful armored hand gripping tightly to my scalp. Suddenly, she lifts me\nup. A powerful blow to my stomach nearly finishes me. My hands fall away from\nher wrist, dropping weakly to my sides. My feet sway inches above the asphalt. A\nlimp body dangles in front of my opponent, a trophy for her inspection.
\n“You will learn to beg,” she snarls from the other side of the mask, “and it\nwill not be a pleasant lesson!” I am airborne again, flying backward through the\nair, over the Impala and into the deepest recesses of the alley. I land with a\nthud, my backside skidding across the rough blacktop, my head banging against\nthe brick wall. I am seeing stars again. I can hear nothing but the slow and\nsteady footsteps of my heavily armored opponent’s approach. But my super-powered\nbody recovers quickly and the sound of those metallic boots clanging against the\nasphalt is like the toll of a bell. If I do not find the strength to get up and\nfight, I realize, it might very well be a death knell.
\n“I do not beg,” I state while struggling to get to my feet. “And I don’t go down\nwithout a fight. You may have ambushed me in the sky but now that I know where\nyou are, I figure things will get a whole lot more even!” The armored warrior\npauses some fifteen feet from me and I have my first opportunity to get a good\nlook at her. The green and bronze suit that she wears is obviously high-tech.\nSmall servos and motors power the arm and leg joints. Titanium rods serve as a\nsort of exoskeleton. Interlocking metal plates cover her rotund body from head\nto toe, leaving no obvious vulnerabilities. A multi-pocketed utility belt is\nstrapped firmly around her wide waist. On one side is a bronze clasp and\nfastened to it, dangling from her left hip, is a coiled bullwhip. On her back is\na bulky device and I quickly postulate from observing the twin-vented exhaust\ntubes on either side that this must be the jetpack engine. It seems extremely\nadvanced and my guess is that it allows the woman to fly just as fast and nimbly\nas me. The ability to take flight, always one of my greatest advantages, won’t\nbe of much use to me in this battle.
\nMy blue eyes glance across the large cylindrical object fastened atop her right\narm. The device completely encompasses her forearm and is clearly a weapon. My\neyes narrow as they spot a puff of smoke rising from the end of the barrel. This\nmust be the device that shot me from the sky.
\n“Who are you and what is that thing?” I demand to know.
\nThe helmet bobs up and down, as if the woman is laughing to herself. “I owe you\nno explanations, Ms. Marvelous, though I shall give you one never the less. I am\ncalled Copperhead and I work for the Serpent Squad. You are familiar with us, I\nthink?”
\nMy cheeks flush with anger and… something else. “Oh, I remember the Serpent\nSquad. I easily defeated two of your members, Cobra and Diamondback, not long\nago. You are the group of bounty hunters hired by Don Refrain to capture me!”
\n“Yes, bounty hunters, but not ordinary bounty hunters. Among other things, we\nspecialize in dealing with annoying super-heroines. Cobra and Diamondback were\nconsidered to be among our best and you were very fortunate to have defeated\nthem. But from what I have heard of the battle, it was not as easy as you would\nhave me believe.”
\nThe redness of my face becomes a darker hue. Indeed, the first two members of\nthe Serpent Squad nearly beat me. And though I will not admit it to Copperhead,\nI remember quite well how they violated me with their cybernetic tentacles. Even\nnow, just thinking of it, I can feel my athletic body becoming aroused. I\nremember how it felt as one of the slimy things wrapped around my leg and\nslipped underneath my costume. I remember it forcing its way between my nether\nlips and penetrating deep inside my hole. I remember how it throbbed within me,\ntormenting a sopping pussy, and how I was quickly reduced to a quivering mass of\nover-sexed female flesh lying helpless at my opponents’ feet. The tentacle\nnearly brought me to the point of climaxing and had it not been for their own\nimpatience, the two bounty hunters would surely have captured me that day.
\nBut I also know that it does little good to dwell on such things. I may have the\nstrength of ten men but, as Thomas so aptly demonstrated just a short while ago,\nI also possess a vulnerability to sexual stimulation. My
\nfantasies, even my memories, can make me weak as a kitten. Even thinking about\nit, thinking about how the tentacle repeatedly worked its way in and out of me,\ndriving me to the point of erotic insanity- even thinking about it makes me feel\nweak. And I cannot be weak. Not now. Not when I am facing such a powerful\nadversary. “I won and they lost. That’s all you need to know.”
\nCopperhead’s voice has a metallic tint to it as she answers. “They may have lost\nbut I will not. You are facing the first team, now, one of the best that the\nSerpent Squad has to offer. We never give up on a contract, especially a\ncontract offered by Don Refrain. I am tempted to give you the chance to\nsurrender, though I know that you will decline. And, to be honest, I prefer it\nthis way. I like to make my victims suffer a bit before I deliver them, hogtied,\nto my employer. You asked about my weapon- it is an advanced energy emitter\ncalled the Rapier. The technology is too advanced for a simpleton like you to\nunderstand but you can think of it as the world’s most powerful microwave oven.\nIt is great for cooking things, especially cocky young heroines who do not know\nwhen they are overmatched!”
\nMy eyes open wide as the barrel of the weapon is pointed at me. I try to move,\ntry to get out of the way, but my body is still sluggish and I can only brace\nmyself for what is to come. A bright white light emanates from the end of the\nbarrel. Bits of yellow, like the sparkling of thousands of tiny candles, flicker\naround the end. There is a loud clicking noise and then it hits me, an invisible\nbeam of atomized energy, slamming against me like the blast of a shotgun, a wide\nspread, striking me head and toe and everywhere in between. Once again, my\nslender body feels as if it is on fire, as if I am standing on the surface of\nthe sun, and I scream like I have never screamed before.
\nI lose consciousness for just a moment and when I come to I am lying on the cool\nground, my svelte figure trembling. The first breath is difficult- I have to\nforce my lungs to expand so that air might be drawn into a burning chest. It is\npossible that my heart stopped, I think, possible that I was very close to\ndeath. Even now, the rhythmic beating that I hear in my ears seems tentative, as\nif my body is unsure that it should still be functioning. But this is not a good\nday to die. I am too young and I have too much left to do. I refuse to be\ndefeated. Yet, once again, I
\nhear the footsteps of my armored foe clanging off of the asphalt. Once again, I\nhear the bell tolling. “Still alive, delicious child?”
\nI compel myself to rise. I am on my knees, Copperhead standing over me, the\nbarrel of her insidious weapon aiming directly for my head. “Stop asking that!”\nI mutter through gritted teeth. “Don Refrain wants you in one piece but I find\nmyself curious and a bit… insulted. I am curious as to how many blasts you can\nsurvive. I am insulted that you have lasted this long!”
\nMy vision is blurry but I can see clearly enough to know that the Rapier is\npointed at a spot directly between my eyes. I can sense that she is about to\npull the trigger. I can see the white glow of awful energy flickering inside the\nbarrel. Tiny yellow flickers- “My god!” I think. “She is going to fire again!\nShe is going to murder me!”
\n“Goodbye, child. It has been nice knowing you-”
\nI react instinctively, my left arm jutting forward and my hand pushing the\nbarrel just far enough to the right to cause a miss. The loud clicking sound\nreverberates between the walls of the alley and I feel raw, naked energy passing\nby my head. I hear it, whispering into my right ear. “You should be dead!” it\nseems to say.
\nI jump to my feet and we wrestle. I clutch the weapon with both hands, knowing\nthat if I lose this tug of war I will likely be shot and killed. The servos on\nher elbow joints whir and prattle. God, she is so strong! She pushes me back\nagainst the wall. She tries to yank the weapon away but I hold on for dear life.\nSomehow, I manage to spin her around. I slam the thing off of the unforgiving\nbricks. I slam it again. Little sparks jump from tiny cracks in the metal\ncasing. I slam it a third time and then a fourth. The bricks are crumbling. At\nlast, a fifth and most devastating impact against the wall causes the cracks to\nwiden. Light and smoke jump from the weapon and then
\nI regain consciousness in the center of the alley, my back wedged against the\nshattered windshield of the old Impala. A cloud of black, billowing smoke\nindicates that I have been out for only a few seconds. I slide off of the hood\nand stand on shaky feet, waiting for the air to clear. When it does, I see\nCopperhead, still standing next to the wall, only it is no longer a wall but\nrather a pile of charred bricks. The building has been opened up, gutted by the\nexplosion, and I am amazed that it has not collapsed completely. Thank the gods,\nthere does not seem to have been anyone inside.
\n“Still alive, Copperhead? Maybe you should rethink this?”
\nThe fat woman is not happy. “Damn you, girl!”
\nHer arm is smoking, the weapon completely destroyed. Wisps of smoke stream out\nfrom beneath her armor and she is forced to tear off the helmet. It falls from\nher hand and rattles across the ground, bouncing erratically over the rough\nasphalt, before coming to rest near a garbage dumpster. The irony is not lost on\neither of us- I will turn her entire suit into junk before this battle ends.
\n“Give up!” I demand. “Without your weapon you are no match for me!”
\nShe is breathing heavily, struggling to endure the pain that is racking her\nobese body. I examine her face, pleased to finally see this woman as she really\nis. As butch as they come. A purple-dyed mohawk is cut short to an otherwise\nbald head and there is not a bit of makeup on a puffy face. Mid-thirties, maybe.\nNot a bit of feminine beauty but she is not one to care, either. Veins protrude\nfrom a stout neck. I can see that her bulk isn’t entirely due to the suit. She\nis a big girl, rolls of fat squeezed into the armor. And there is a crazed look\nin her eyes, one I have seen before but only in the eyes of the wickedest of\npeople. It is a scary look, one that seems to say that she cares for nothing and\nno one, maybe not even herself.
\n“I am far from finished!” she replies angrily. Her first step toward me is\nclumsy but she recovers quickly. Other than for the damage to her right arm, the\nsuit still looks intact. “Rest assured that I have other weapons at my disposal,\nchild, some of which have been devised just for you!”
\nI watch with interest as she opens one of the pockets on her utility belt and\nremoves a surprising device. Interest transforms into disgust, however, as I see\nit for what it is. It is a thick dildo, six inches long, with a metal base and\nflexible rubber shaft. Ridges run its length. There is a slight, lengthwise\ncurve to the thing. The molded tip is fat and heavy. Altogether, it appears to\nbe an accurate representation of a real, fully erect, penis. The wicked look in\nher eyes grows more pronounced. She smacks her lips. My skin begins to crawl.
\nI stammer, struggling to control the outrage that I am feeling. “You do not\nreally think… I mean, you cannot believe… that you are going to be able to use\nthat on me, can you?” I ask indignantly. “Don Refrain told me all about your\nweakness,” she answers haughtily. “Such an interesting thing, a vulnerability to\nsexual stimulation- and something that I am more than prepared to use to my\nadvantage!” I motion toward the dildo with a flip of my hand, as if the device\nis so ridicules that it scarcely deserves my notice. “That is hardly the type of\nhigh-tech gadget that I have come to expect from the Serpent Squad!” Copperhead\nignores me and grips the dildo in her left hand. She positions its metal base\natop her right leg, about halfway down her thigh, sliding it into a small,\ncircular opening. It clicks into place and, when she removes her hand, the dildo\nextends outward from her thigh like a small, somewhat floppy, spike. “The\nsimplest devices are sometimes the most effective,” she says almost proudly. “At\nthe very least, this dildo will give you something to worry about as we resume\nthe battle. But, for now, allow me to introduce you to yet another toy I like to\nkeep around. I call it the Slave-Master!”
\nI watch as Copperhead lifts the coiled bullwhip from atop her hip. But this is\nno ordinary whip, I soon realize. The thick rawhide strap has been supplemented\nwith tendrils of metal to reinforce its strength. As a demonstration of its\neffectiveness, the obese bounty hunter snaps the whip overhead and takes aim at\nthe pile of bricks that once formed the wall of the damaged building.
\n“Crack!”
\nMy eyes open wide as I witness one of the bricks get sliced cleanly in two. The\nSlave-Master snaps overhead a second time and I have to dive over the fender of\nthe Impala to avoid its deadly touch. Sparks leap into the air as the end of the\nwhip bites deep into rusting American steel. I grab a nearby garbage can and\nthrow it at my foe- it is an absurd attack and Copperhead easily deflects the\ncan with a sweep of her arm, causing it to spin off wildly toward the other side\nof the alley. She advances, bringing me within range of the whip. I barely dodge\nunderneath the next strike, taking cover behind the car. But I cannot continue\nto hide behind this old clunker. I need to get closer and take the fight to my\nenemy. I use my flying power to zoom up and over the abused vehicle. My speed\ncatches Copperhead by surprise. She tries to strike me with the whip but it cuts\nthrough the air wide of the mark. I bear down on her like a fighter plane,\nstrafing the ground, arms extended in front of me, my fists clenched into tight\nballs. The impact is jarring as I slam into this armored opponent. Her bulk is\nlifted off of the ground and thrown backward over the pile of rubble that was\nonce the wall of the building. She lands on the opposite side, in a cloud of\ndust, her armored form bouncing and tumbling through the debris and crashing to\na rest against some old crates deep inside of the demolished building.
\nI follow her inside, wanting to take advantage of my opportunity. But though\nCopperhead’s armor is dented, she is far from finished. She catches me in the\nmidsection with a powerful kick, knocking me back and driving my athletic body\nthrough some crumbling drywall. We are both on are feet quickly but now it is\nshe that
\nhas the advantage. Before I can react, the whip is in the air, cracking once\nabove my head and then down across my left shoulder. I wince as pain stabs\nthrough my body, the lash cutting downward across my back and leaving a large\nwelt. She pulls it back and strikes again, this time lashing me around the\nwaist. The Slave-Master traps me
\nwithin its coils, not cutting my bullet-proof skin but ensnaring me tightly\nwithin several loops of tough leather. There is a desperate look in my eyes as I\ngrab hold of the pliable shaft with my hands. Copperhead thinks she has me and\nwe stare at each other like hunter and prey, locked in a tug-of-war, testing one\nanother’s strength. It seems that it may be a draw, neither of us willing to\ngive an inch to the other, when something unexpected suddenly occurs. To my\nsurprise and utter dismay, the bounty hunter presses a button on the handle of\nthe whip and reveals its secret, a charge of high-voltage electricity that runs\nthe length of the vile cord and blasts through my abused body like a tornado\nthrough a mobile-home park.
\n“Is that high-tech enough for you?” she shouts to be heard above my screams.
\nAfter what seems like an eternity, the electricity runs its course and the\ncharge is finally expended. I am still on my feet, but only barely. My hands\ndrop away from the shaft of the whip. My body is trembling. My hair is standing\nnearly on end. I am too stunned to talk, too stunned to react. Copperhead laughs\nand gives the Slave Master a violent tug that lifts my body off of the ground\nand sends it spinning through the air. I crash through the wall and land\noutside, back in the alley and atop the pile of bricks, my injured spine arching\nto its limit over a peak of jagged edges and rough corners. I lie there for\nseveral seconds, my svelte body motionless atop the pyramidal mound of debris.
\nI know that she is approaching, that she is standing over me, but my spine feels\nbroken. A single brick, the topmost on the pile, jabs painfully into the small\nof my back. I open my eyes just in time to see Copperhead’s smug face, lips\nturned upward in a victorious grin and those crazed, psychopathic eyes staring\nhungrily down at my nubile form. The servo motors of her armor whir and I feel\none powerful hand take hold of my left shoulder while another grips my right\nthigh. She lifts me overhead as if I weigh nothing and then drops me down across\nher right knee with a vicious backbreaker maneuver.
\nMy once powerful body wilts atop her right thigh. Her knee digs painfully into\nthe small of my injured back. I feel the rubber dildo pressing against the inner\ncurve of my slender waist. My head and shoulders droop downward toward the\nground. My arms dangle lifelessly, the backs of my hands scraping against the\nshattered bricks. My legs are numb. I am conscious, but only barely. And then I\nfeel something else, something different from the pain. It is between my parted\nlegs, the pressure of a thick, armored finger, pressing into my gap, forcing its\nway between my nether lips even through the stretchy fabric of my costume. I\ngasp, too weak to stop her, too stunned to prevent her from penetrating an inch\ninside my hole. And then something else, the armored finger vibrating\nunnaturally, pulsating back and forth with an ungodly quick rhythm, literally\nquivering its way deeper into my pussy.
\n“Oh, god!” I cry out. “What are you doing?”
\nHer left hand flattens against the bare skin of my stomach, securing me atop her\nleg. “The servos in this suit can oscillate at whatever speed I want, little\ndove, giving me the ability to use my own finger as a kind of vibrator. It is a\ntight fit, but once I am fully inside of you, you will be finished!”
\nAnd with that simple declaration, the pain and all that has happened to me does\nnot seem to matter anymore. As Copperhead’s vibrating finger penetrates a second\ninch into me, and as my body is roiled by a new set of sensations, I know that\nthis fight has taken a drastic turn for the worse. The bounty hunter does not\nintend to beat me into submission- she intends to rape me into submission.
\n“No!” I shout while struggling to escape. “I will not let you!”
\nBut as her finger continues to vibrate, and as I feel the first faint stirrings\nof unwanted arousal deep within my vulnerable pussy, I have to wonder if there\nis truly anything that I can do to stop her. Oh, god! Might this be the end?\nMight this be the end of Ms. Marvelous?
","frontmatter":{"text":"Ms. Marvelous Episode 29 -- Ambushed","tags":["Ms. Marvelous","n/c","Torture","Domination","f/f","Forced Orgasm","Pain","Tentacles","electrification"],"date":"7/21/2024","part":"1"},"excerpt":"I am blushing like a schoolgirl but try my best not to fidget. His eyes are\nscanning across my svelte figure probingly, carefully examining…","timeToRead":27,"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_heroinepursued/part1/"},"author":{"authorName":"Steven Bell","authorEmail":null,"authorSite":null},"series":{"seriesName":"Heroine Pursued","parts":[{"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_heroinepursued/part1/"},"frontmatter":{"part":"1"}},{"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_heroinepursued/part2/"},"frontmatter":{"part":"2"}},{"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_heroinepursued/part3/"},"frontmatter":{"part":"3"}},{"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_heroinepursued/part4/"},"frontmatter":{"part":"4"}},{"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_heroinepursued/part5/"},"frontmatter":{"part":"5"}}]},"storyStats":{"visits":991},"summary":"Ms. Marvelous finds herself ambushed by Copperhead, a powerful foe using advanced weaponry that causes intense pain and disintegration upon impact. Despite her strength initially, the physical and psychological strain of these encounters leaves her vulnerable and in constant fear for her safety, with sexual tension building as she fights back against overwhelming odds.","similarStories":[{"author":{"authorName":"Steven Bell","url":"/authors/steven-bell/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"Ms. Marvelous Episode 19 -- Flesh Against Metal"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_championofjustice/part6/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Steven Bell","url":"/authors/steven-bell/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"Ms. Marvelous Episode 14 -- Champion of Justice"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_championofjustice/part1/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Steven Bell","url":"/authors/steven-bell/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"Ms. Marvelous Episode 17 -- Shard the Marvelous"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_championofjustice/part4/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Steven Bell","url":"/authors/steven-bell/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"Ms. Marvelous Episode 23 -- Broken"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_slavefothesyndicate/part4/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Steven Bell","url":"/authors/steven-bell/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"M-Girls #24 -- The Day that Ms. Marvelous Died"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_mgirls/part24/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Steven Bell","url":"/authors/steven-bell/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"Ms. Marvelous Episode 22 -- Into Bondage"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_slavefothesyndicate/part3/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Steven Bell","url":"/authors/steven-bell/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"Ms. Marvelous Episode 28 -- Heroine Forever"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_heroineforever/part4/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Steven Bell","url":"/authors/steven-bell/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"Episode 1 -- Ms. Marvelous vs. The Reavors"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_defenderofmegapolis/part1/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Steven Bell","url":"/authors/steven-bell/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"Ms. Marvelous Episode 21 -- Ursula's Sex Slave"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_slavefothesyndicate/part2/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Steven Bell","url":"/authors/steven-bell/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"M-Girls #33 -- Vampires and Ghosts"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_mgirls/part33/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Steven Bell","url":"/authors/steven-bell/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"Ms. Marvelous Episode 26 -- Champion Revealed"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_heroineforever/part2/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Steven Bell","url":"/authors/steven-bell/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"Episode 9: Ms. Marvelous vs. The Pep Squad"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_defenderofmegapolis/part9/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Dr. Dominator","url":"/authors/dr--dominator/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Part 29"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/drdominator_wwvssuperheroineserialkiller/part29/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Lady Tania","url":"/authors/lady-tania/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"Ultra Woman - Anchored!"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/ladyliberty_ultrawomananchored/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Dr. Dominator","url":"/authors/dr--dominator/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"Nova and the Professor"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/drdominator_novaandtheprofessor/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Steven Bell","url":"/authors/steven-bell/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"Episode 7: Ms. Marvelous vs. The Posse"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_defenderofmegapolis/part7/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Star Girl","url":"/authors/star-girl/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"Star Girl: Second Interlude"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stargirl_stargirlsecondinterlude/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Steven Bell","url":"/authors/steven-bell/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"M-Girls #29 -- The Bottom of the Ninth"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_mgirls/part29/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Steven Bell","url":"/authors/steven-bell/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"Ms. Marvelous Episode 25 -- The Purring Kitten"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_heroineforever/part1/"}},{"author":{"authorName":"Jonair","url":"/authors/jonair/"},"frontmatter":{"text":"Tawila"},"fields":{"slug":"/stories/jonair_tawila/"}}]}},"pageContext":{"nextInSeries":{"series":"Heroine Pursued","part":"2","favorite":null,"date":"7/21/2024","text":"Ms. Marvelous Episode 30 -- Copperhead's Gambit","tags":["Ms. Marvelous","n/c","Torture","humiliation","Domination","Bondage","f/f","Forced Orgasm","degradation","Lesbian"],"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_heroinepursued/part2/","templatePath":"./src/templates/stories-post.js"},"slug":"/stories/stevenbell_heroinepursued/part1/","templatePath":"./src/templates/stories-post.js"}},"staticQueryHashes":["4139622702","641652024","942210989"],"slicesMap":{}}