Learning the Joys of Personal Satisfaction Chapter 4

Author: BigBoob 58
Time to Read:22min
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Wonder Woman Learns Personal Satisfaction Part IV- Racing Away The Moments That Make Up A Dull Day. By BigBoob58, Aspiring Author

When Sunday came, Helena intended to be ready for her ride back to Leslie Loomis' estate/office and discover what physical abuse she needed to endure. What Helena believed to be her fourth and final film, actually was her tenth film. The quality of her responses to the hours of abuse allowed her 'employer' to create nine episodic films in the Wunder Blunder series. She knew Trent would be parked in front of the flea rich hotel before Six AM and she set her alarm so she would be ready. Then she slipped onto the lumpy cushion and tried to go to sleep.

Around the time she finally lost consciousness, the door to her room opened silently. Two figures using reasonable stealth entered the unlit room. The shorter one carried a small gym bag while the taller one who'd entered first carried only a bottle and a piece of unevenly cut cloth. As they approached the sleeping blonde, the man carrying the bottle spun the top of it until it popped into his hand on top of the cloth. He deftly slipped the bottle cap into a pocket on the outside of his dark colored shirt and then he emptied the bottle onto the cloth. The odor was pungent and familiar. His arm extended in front of him so the rag was as far from his face as possible.

The sleeping blonde with the Mohawk hair style turned in her bed restlessly. The aroma permeated the immediate area and the man holding the rag used his free hand to cover his nostrils and mouth with a rebreather. A miniature tank dangled from the base of the rebreather and held enough breathable gas to keep the man awake. He was right next to Helena's bed as her eyes jolted open. Wonder Woman looked at the moist rag and in a moment of lucidity tried to count the number of times something like this happened to her. She tried to escape from the blanket, but the second man jumped on top of it when he recognized that she was no longer asleep. Then the rag descended onto the soft skin beneath her nose. The fingers holding the rag expertly moved it to cover her nostrils and her large mouth. While that hand held the rag in place, his other hand punched her in her abdomen and she inhaled reflexively. The chloroform went directly to her lungs. Helena Spillyos was unconscious again and no amount of noise would wake her for the next six hours.

"She sleeps naked," the shorter man observed. His partner held a finger to the place where his lips sat under the rebreather. Then the taller man placed the chloroform soaked rag in a plastic grocery bag. He twisted a knot in the handles, effectively sealing the majority of the fumes inside and tossed the bag across the room into a nearly full waste basket. He straightened up and turned to find his partner rolling the unconscious blonde woman onto her face. Lippy was a pro and Helena's wrists were pinned under his knee as she settled onto her front. Newton unzipped his gym bag and tossed a small tube to his partner. Lippy caught the tube, used his lips to help twist the cap off and then he positioned the tube over Helena's arms. A single squeeze emptied the glycerin substance out of the tube onto Helena's trapped arms. Lippy spread the gel over the unconscious woman's arms making certain to cover her skin up to her elbows. Newton didn't watch, he'd seen the act before. He had a shiny gold leather single mitt out of the gym bag, smoothed and spread open before Lippy finished. While Newton held the bag, Lippy threaded Helena's arms inside the confining device. Then Lippy pushed Helena's arms together while Newton laced the single mitt tightly.

"Did you hear a bone crack?" Lippy asked.

"Nope," Newton retorted. "Should we do it again?"

Lippy stretched two straps that were attached to the upper portion of the red single mitt up and over Helena's shoulders. He lifted himself off her body and spun her onto her back. Her breasts flopped to either side of her torso and Lippy appeared confused.

"She's not as firm as we've been told."

"The Loomis twat thinks that it's all the sex," Newton told him. "The more her body is sexually used, the more her natural abilities diminish. After the three weeks she's lived in Leslie's tender care, it is entirely possible that her powers are gone."

"How long did it take the Porn star to figure out who this bitch is?"

"After the first attack," Newton said. "She used an attorney in Los Angeles to draw up papers, fixed up that old abandoned building to look like a courthouse, and counted on the heroic nature of her opponent along with the legendary sense of honor to entrap her. Plus she's made about forty million on the movies this bitch made for her."

Lippy whistled a sharp note, and finished cinching the two inch wide leather belt above Helena's hips.

"If she has no powers, won't the committee be upset?" Lippy asked.

"Are you kidding? Newton scowled as he spoke. "They wanted this piece of ass since she first appeared on the scene, or at least their grandparents did."

"How did the Loomis bitch find out about us?"

"She read some internet pornos," Newton responded. "Then she made the right contacts and after a short negotiation, she arranged to deliver this beauty here where we can pick her up."

"What do the Elders intend for her?"

"At first, she'll be a racer," Newton said. "If she's any good, she may last a few seasons. Then she'll become a provider."

"So she'll be neutered?" Lippy asked.

"After she whelps a few daughters and a son or two," Newton told his friend. "There's a lotto going on right now and I have two tickets."

"Were they expensive?"

"I had to skip my rent last week," Newton said. "I'm not worried. When we get our capture bonus for this beauty, I can catch up on my rent for the next decade and have plenty left over."

The straps now sat tightly against Diana's shoulder blades and connected to the specially designed loops that attached to the two inch leather belt on her waist. Her arms were pulled up, against their natural position and when she woke, she would be in pain. Lippy had struggled to pull a special pair of panties up her legs and over her broad hips. The panties held tightly to her skin and didn't hide the wide circular objects that penetrated her lower orifices. Her invaders were silent at the moment but Lippy had a small remote control in his pocket designed to bring her invaders to life at his whim.

Newton twisted her hair into a large ponytail and used a thick rubber band to keep it in place. Then he covered her eyes with a simple blindfold. Newton, the taller and more muscular of the pair, hefted Helena over his shoulder and followed Lippy out the door. They dropped Helena in the back seat, threw an old blanket over her and drove the nine miles to the docks.

Their boat was a nondescript freighter painted gunmetal green. The paint job was old yet no rust showed if anyone bothered to look. Helena Spillyos was lugged up the gangplank and roughly tossed into a small 'state room'. The bed was worse than the one in her hotel and the door to her new room was locked. With her wrists shackled to her belt, she couldn't have done much anyway. Shackle connected her left ankle to the base board of the bed she lay in. She didn't recover from the chloroform until hours after Saint Flex D'Cote vanished under the horizon. Her head ached as she sat up and her arms sent the messages that their painful confinement caused directly to her already painful forehead. Helena shook her head trying to shake off the cobwebs but failed to do so. She tried to stand and managed it after learning how to reposition the shackle on her ankle. There was enough chain to allow her to reach the popcorn sized bowl and relieve herself. When she finished, she hobbled back to the stained mattress and plopped down.

"Another fine mess Diana," she said aloud. She realized it was the first time she thought of herself by her real name in years. It didn't help her and the escalating painful sensations further distracted her from considering her predicament. She fell onto her side and closed her eyes. Whoever held her captive would arrive to gloat sooner than she wanted. She thought that whatever befell her, it couldn't be worse than staring in porno movies.

She was wrong.

Part II

The nameless island that served as her new home sat nearly eighty miles inside the Bermuda Triangle. As she struggled with her new life, she was tormented by the fact that her original home, Themyscira the legendary island which moved throughout the Caribbean at the behest of her Amazon people, might be close enough for her to see. Of course, Wonder Woman would need to be on the coast of her new home and her masters would never allow that.

When the ship docked, Newton, Lippy, and the other people of the island wasted no time stripping her and cleaning her body. Then every speck of hair was removed from her skin and a special salve was applied that kept her skin smooth and bare. When she tried to resist, she found her strength was less than that of a normal woman and her resistance was quickly rendered futile.

Hands held her immobile while she was fitted into the standard outfit that her new occupation required. Wonder Woman was now a racing slave. Her arms were bent behind her and a tight light blue sleeve held them immobile. Her legs and feet were placed in specially designed boots. The heels of her boots resembled horseshoes. The boots were shiny kid leather and laced stringently in placed. The boots extended past her knees and stopped below the place where her legs met her torso. Every other racer wore a similar style of boot. Her captors selected a light blue color like the one that adorned her original star spangled mini skirt and later her hot pants. Her neck sported a bright red leather collar with rings attached to each side. The rings held the reins that her jockey used to direct her efforts when she ran in races. A new belt sat atop her hips and this belt served to hold the surrey in place behind her. Her style of racing was similar to a one horse chariot race. Her jockey stood in the surrey that trailed her by three feet. Each of her jockeys came equipped with a six foot whip and few of them failed to apply the lash during her races.

Without her powers, her speed was greatly reduced. Even so, she was among the fastest slave horses in her class and it took only five races before she won. After she won, she was taken by a designated stud in the middle of the island's specially designed race track. The race track was three quarters of a mile of dirt and grass tracks inside white painted rails. A grandstand fifteen rows high sat alongside the start and finish line and most races were one lap. The designated studs were chosen from a group of five of the best endowed men Wonder Woman ever met. Whoever won the race also earned the attention of one of the studs. This meant five races a day three times a week. The fastest slave racers enjoyed being fucked the most often and inevitably became pregnant. If their children met the strict standards of the island's Council of Elders, The women became breeders, specially designated woman who were impregnated again and again and served to keep the island's population up. After a certain point, Breeders were neutered and became providers; that is women who serviced the sexual needs of any man on the island. There were no free women on this island. Most of the men never left the island since all their needs were met and there was little in the world that interested them.

Occasionally, small groups of specially trained hunters would visit the outside world and after acquiring a few new women to freshen the gene pool and the racing stock, they would return. They were careful to avoid discovery since most civilized countries might frown upon their life style. For the former super heroine, nothing mattered except doing enough to please her masters and avoid being whipped. She felt as though she reached rock bottom and this time she was correct.

Part III

The crowd of men on racing day was abuzz in talk about the one thing none of them ever expected to see. After the second race of the day and just as the post race debauchery was finishing, President Cook walked towards the middle of the infield of the race track. He was accompanied by Racing Secretary Margeant, Elder Carpenter, two men who nobody recognized and a woman. The woman was the cause of all the talk. She wore a straw sun hat, a gaudy necklace with a green diamond which only could have been mined on the north side of the island, a sun dress that covered her breasts and hugged her shapely body in the most attractive fashion and four inch black heels. That she was dressed like someone from the outside world and walking freely while actually speaking to the other members of her group absolutely astounded the natives of the island.

As the stud finished off the pretty red headed slave racer, President Cook grabbed a wireless microphone and addressed the crowd.

"As you may have noticed, all of the symbols of our nations pride were removed from the race track this morning," he said as he opened his speech. "We are about to do something that we never before have attempted. The woman with me is the famous actress Leslie Loomis. She also makes movies and several months ago she contacted me with the idea for a new movie. She wanted to film one of our races and as a part of this movie she wanted us to train an outsider in our racing arts. That outsider who we all refer to as Hela, is one of the fastest Slave Racers to ever grace this course."

The Crowd cheered loudly and Cook paused to soak up the indirect adulation. Intermittent shouts encouraging President Cook to 'strip the bitch', 'Chain her up', and 'let's get to the next race' cascaded out of the grandstand between the pauses in Cook's speech. He smiled a wry smile at the audience and the image filled the jumbotron screen which was recently donated by a pair of off-island investors. Cook raised his arms and flattened his palms. He gestured for the racing crowd to calm down and after a short time the tumult receded and he started to speak again.

"Ms Loomis is a guest of the Council of Elders," Cook announced. "As long as she wears this necklace, she is entitled to the same treatment as any ambassador. Ms Loomis donated a sizable amount of money for the privilege of filming a few races Then she will depart with full knowledge that should she reveal our location or return here, she will be assigned to the proper class of all female citizens of our lovely island."

Loud cheers greeted this announcement and most of the insults stopped. The next field of racers was led towards the starting gate by the trainers and racing grooms. Like every other race, a great deal of attention was paid to cinching and securing the various straps that kept the racing slaves confined and attached to their respective surreys. Loomis had three cameras with operator and sound techs walk along the line of the seven confined ladies and film the preparations. Special attention was paid to Hela (formerly Helena Spillyos) and her groom made an extra effort to elicit a response from her body. The inevitable leaking fluid showed up on her legs and the groom, trainer, and camera crew shared smiles at the expense of the confined super heroine.

The post parade started as the grooms and trainers left the Jockeys alone with their 'fillies'. The starting gate was much wider than that of a horse racing gate to allow for the positioning of the bound women, their surreys and to allow the Jockeys to stand upright. Instead of metal gates flying open, a fixed metal fence, designed like an old picket fence, held the racers in the gate until the bell signaled the time when this gate would lift and allow the racers to charge towards the finish line. Most Jockeys listed the sight of the wiggling fannies of their racing slave as one of their greatest thrills in sport. Loomis' crew managed to capture that sight a number of times and the cameramen came to share the opinion.

Helena outsprinted her competitors easily and wept as she received her reward in the infield. The stud assigned to her race was the famous Assmaster and he drove his oversized member into her rear end for ten uninterrupted minutes. Helena screamed her rage and later her pleasure as her rear entry was plowed roughly. Finally, she was lifted off the thick cock and deposited on the soft green grass. Her uniform confined her arms and her boots were fastened together to restrict her ability to move. Her groom eventually lifted her off the turf and piled her into a utility cart for the trip back to her stall. Portions of it were caught on film. When the groom reached the entrance to the private trainer's area, tall muscled men blocked the cameraman from following. Leslie was hovering behind the cameramen and she protested but the bouncers ignored her and repeated their orders to stop filming.

President Cook firmly grabbed Loomis's arm and pulled her gently from the door/

"You aren't allowed inside that area," he told the director. "Her steward will send for you in two days so you can film her training routine. In four days, she will race again and you will be allowed the same access as you enjoyed today."

"And if I protest?" she asked as she wiggled her body provocatively.

"Don't make noise," Cook advised. "That necklace is the only thing keeping any citizen of our island from adding you to their stock."

Leslie Loomis shivered visibly. Even in the limited time she was on this island, she realized that the natives were not friendly to their women-folk. Or perhaps they were too friendly. The idea for this movie demonstrating the final downfall of Wunder Blunder was too good to pass up. Helena Spillyos made a fortune for her and she could afford to lay back for a while. Maybe even try to break into legitimate cinema after a few years. Helena Spillyos wasn't going anywhere. While her associates kept Spillyos chained and drugged, they forced her to sign papers accepting her citizenship on this island. There was no escape for the blonde and no risk of Loomis being exposed in court.

She smiled a thin smile and ordered the camera crews to follow her back to their equipment wagon, Nobody on the island used anything powered by an internal combustion engine other than the four large ships that delivered food and other necessary goods and the airplanes that members of the racing club who lived off the island would use to visit. They went to the pair of huts the island's government assigned to them and the techs worked on developing the day's shoot. Loomis put a skimpy bikini on and after making certain she had the safe passage necklace, she walked to the small pool at the base of the hill where het hut sat. She took a place on a handy deck chair and soaked in the hot Mediterranean sun.

Two days later, Loomis and her film crew managed to film 'Wunder Blunder' as she was dressed in her racing uniform. Her trainer and groom hitched her to a racing sulky before making her run a dozen laps for the cameras. Loomis smiled the entire time and sipped on a fruity drink. The groom was only too happy to tie and untie the straps that held the leather halter tight against Helena's body. Leslie smiled as she realized that Helena's breasts were growing and becoming slightly sloppy in their leather restraints. A pronounced camel toe nearly swallowed the strap that ran between Helena Spillyos' legs.

Helena screamed as the jockey whipped her while she ran. She had less tolerance for the pain and she knew her body was near the point where she would never be an Amazon warrior again. Worse, her enemy had a front row seat to watch her deterioration. Surely she was at the end of all hope of resuming her heroic identity.

Race day arrived and a large crowd was expected. Hela always drew additional fans, it was a Saturday and the Monday was one of those important days that required the civilized world to take three days off from work. A number of off-islanders arrived steadily through the day prior to the race including a small party from Gotham City. The men, Cal, Wayne, and Oliver toured the stables and other areas of the old race facility. Wayne was a long time club member and vice chairman of the track's board of directors. Oliver was a new member of the club and Cal a probationary visitor. Each of the men were extremely gorgeous physical specimens and most of the women who came near enough to see them harbored the hope of spending more intimate time in their company. As the race card started, the three men climbed to the rear of the board of director's private box and took seats. None of the men wagered but anyone who watched closely noticed that the tallest man, Cal, needed to be talked to almost constantly. His friends managed to keep him under control as race after race was run.

Hela was entered in the feature race, a match of five fillies who never experienced defeat during the current season. The designated stud was the retired King of Cocksmen. He personally taught techniques to the current roster of studs and audiences still talked of his career and the magical way he made the most obstinate partner break down and endure shattering series of orgasms whether they wanted or not. The King of Cocksmen wore his traditional purple robe and skin tight trunks. His trunks were tighter than before, a tribute to good living in retirement. He inspected the racing slaves as they paraded to the starting gate, lingering over Helena Spillyos before taking his assigned spot in the infield.

The two camera crews were everywhere, shooting a lot of Helena but making certain to capture each of her opponents before being instructed to clear the track. In the board of director's box, Cal's companions were nearly sitting on him to keep him in his chair. Finally Wayne leaned forward and whispered into the agitated man's ear and he calmed for a few seconds.

The racing slaves moved into their assigned slots and waited for the starter to ring the bell. At the sound of the gong, the women sprang into action racing into the front stretch of the track. The jockeys whipped each racer, raising stripes on each exposed rear end as their legs pumped furiously. Helena strained to pull the sulky and she knew instantly that her burden weighed at least thirty kilograms more than any of her competitors. She strained and pulled into the lead. Even though she despised her situation, her Amazon heritage compelled her to move with as much speed as she could muster. She held the lead entering the back stretch and started to expand her lead when a cramp seized her right leg and she started to lose ground to her pursuers. Her loose breasts flopped as she regained her footing and she ignored the pain while she increased her pace. Two of her opponents managed to pull up close to her and she felt the whip as it stung her buttocks repeatedly. She tried to run faster but her jockey was tugging against her reins forcing her bridle towards her cheeks. The pain was distracting and suddenly one of her foes ran past her.

Helena heard the snickering of her jockey as she lost ground entering the home stretch. Then she willed herself to move even faster and she pulled even with her opponent, the big breasted red head who had three more victories than she did. With a hundred and twenty yards to go. The racers were neck and neck. Helena inhaled deeply and reached inside herself for the will to succeed. Then her legs increased their piston-like motions and she started to pull away from the red head. Her jockey stopped whipping her and released the reins. Instead of helping, this made her lose sense of direction and she once again lost ground to her opponent. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed the snarl on her foe's face. Her cramped leg exploded in pain and she decided to give it everything she had left. Suddenly her face was draped in the white and black checkered flag that denoted her victory and she steadily reduced the pumping motion in her legs. Behind the large gag, a smile formed on her face. Her reins tensed and she felt her body being directed into the infield where the king of cocksmen waited.

She nearly bumped one of the cameramen and then it occurred to her that she was on film. Presumably her debasement at the hands of the king would also be filmed. Her unseen smile faded and tears formed in her eyes.

"Tears of joy," observed the king of cocksmen as she was steered into his presence. President Cook and the members of his cabinet stood in back of the king and each flashed a smile at the helpless woman. Her jockey wasted no time releasing her from the racing sulky. The groom had her reins and he pulled her towards the king.

At this point, things become messy.

Oliver and Wayne strained to retain their grip on their bespectacled companion. They realized it was a fruitless effort but they had to try.

"Br…..Wayne, we better let go." Shouted Oliver. Cal burst from his seat, obliterating the red plastic along with the rest of the row in which the trio had been seated. His powerful legs caused the concrete base to crack before dissolving under the spot where he leapt into action.

"Let's get after him Ollie," Wayne shouted over the tumult. Two of the nearby support pillars buckled in response to the low level sonic boom and the rest of the fans quickly bailed out of their own seats. In moments half the grand stand was in shambles.

A whirlwind blast of air blew directly in front of the remains of the board of director's box toward the place where Helena was held. Before anyone could react, the off-islander known as Cal seized the winning slave racer and without missing a step had her on board the plane parked behind the backstretch. The plane was scheduled to carry Leslie Loomis and her film crew off the island as soon as they finished filming. Nobody liked the idea of the fully dressed female running free in their paradise. Despite her large financial contributions, President Cook made her promise to leave almost immediately after the race. Cal carried Hela onto the plane moving nearly too fast for the eyes in the crowd to follow. As the jaws of the presidential party dropped, Wayne and Oliver arrived in the infield.

"We need to stop that man Wayne," screamed the chairman of the board. "He's got our star."

"I doubt we could even with the proper weapons,"

"She's extremely popular," Clark exclaimed. "She attracts large crowds and fills the island's treasury. I don't want to let her get away. Besides, she has huge star quality."

"So, just get a new star," Wayne replied. The other men looked at him as if he was crazy. Then Wayne's left hand grabbed the green diamond and jerked it off the neck of Leslie Loomis.

"This one looks exactly like that one if you take the time to leer," Oliver announced and Leslie started to get a feeling of unease as everyone around her seemed to look a bit too lecherously.

After the flimsy chain snapped loudly, Leslie Loomis realized she had no protection. She tried to move between the members of her camera crew, but they moved shoulder to shoulder and blocked her retreat.

"I pay you bastards too well for you to allow this to happen!" she wailed.

"Yeah, but since the Spillyos chick showed up, we no longer get to see or enjoy your cootchie." The tallest cameraman said. "We checked and we will each get a turn taming you before they ruling board places you in your new career."

"You can't do this to me!"

"No, we don't need to. The natives seem restless and you look like their choice to help assuage their situation."

The men around her wasted little time identifying her sudden change in status. The groom had Loomis's arms pinned while Helena's jockey and two of the also-rans stepped in to strip the porn star to her birthday suit as fast as piranha stripping the meat off a side of beef.

"She looks ready to stand in for the winner if you ask me," Oliver observed and the smile on the face of the king of cocksmen indicated he was willing to accept the unplanned substitute.

Wayne and Oliver started walking for the plane, noting that its engines were still running.

"What will we do?" moaned Cook.

"She looks like the perfect replacement for Hela," Wayne observed.

"People will ask questions!" Cook protested.

"Don't be a shit," Oliver snapped at him. "Use a little peroxide and a razor, and she's a perfect match for Helena Spillyos. You already have all the paperwork on that bitch should anyone ask. Just roll with it."

"We should take Hela back," suggested Carpenter as he watched Cal effortlessly tearing the racing save out of her outfit.

"That leather has a lot of tensile strength," Wayne observed. "Imagine what he could do to your bones."

"But he's only one man," replied Carpenter.

"Look at his seat in the Director's box," ordered Wayne and the islander did. Even from this distance, he saw the pile of debris and he grimaced.

"Those were quality seats," Cook lamented.

"Send a bill to my usual P.O. box." Wayne said. "I'll take care of it. And let me know what it costs to lease that plane for the next week. I don't want anyone hurt."

In the plane, Cal (or Kal as you may have deduced) finished stripping the racing slave known as Hela.

"Your racing days are over Diana," he told her in a soft voice. She looked at him and then burst into tears. He used his heat vision to remove the blonde Mohawk hair from her body. "You hair will grow back and it will be the lustrous dark black color I love. You can get your life back."

"I can never be Diana Prince again," she sobbed.

"True, but you will be Princess Diana again," her companion responded. "Bruce and I presented a lot of compelling evidence to your mother related to your recent adventures. She's forgiven you and is waiting for you to go home."

"Then we're flying to Themyscira?" Diana asked.

"No," Kal-El said flatly. "You've been through a lot and I…I mean we have wasted too much time."

As he spoke, Leslie Loomis was bouncing up and down on the king of cocksman's large tool. Despite her screams, she was clearly not enjoying herself. Diana saw this out of the corner of her eyes and her mouth formed a broad smile.

"We will wait until the pilot clears the air space surrounding this island. Then I'm wrapping you in my cape and we're flying to the fortress."

"Why is that," she inquired demurely.

"You're going to spend some time in a Kryptonian regeneration machine," Kal-El told her. "Then we're flying you home where I intend to ask your mother for your hand in marriage."

Diana's smile grew.

"After you finish whatever purple ray treatments you need, we're getting married."

"Now that's extremely satisfying," Wonder Woman said. "What if I object?"

Kal-El pressed his lips against hers and rewarded her with the sexiest kiss he could manage.

"Do you object?" he asked.

"To what?" she retorted and smiled.

Sadly, at this moment when our heroine has finally learned the meaning of personal satisfaction, the infamous Eobard Thawne kills the mother of Barry Allen…..No wait he doesn't kill the mother of Barry Allen, he murders the mother of Jay Garrick……No it was the mother of Wally West…..Oh shit, I absolutely hate time paradoxes. Anyhow, whatever the fiend does, it creates a chaos wave that expands and flows through time completely wiping out everything that happened to our heroes and heroines. Every other story depicted on every other web site is completely wiped away. As to photo manipulations, that matter was referred to my editor the Honorable Seymour Butz and the Internet Oversight committee of Central Sioux Falls. They are reviewing every image on a case by case basis and their final ruling should be posted around the year 2233 AD-by their successors. Since it's convenient, for the moment, the chaos wave resets all of our favorite heroines to innocent virgins who are unaware of how they were previously abused and trapped etc.

The bad news is that everything I've ever written or read is wiped out. Sad but true.

The good news is that there are multiple universes of susceptible virginal heroines out there ready for any author to abuse. Erasing everything is much better than using one's imagination! Get writing-and drawing also just in case.

End of this story arc.

Hello, I bet nobody saw that coming. I just wish I remember what it was. Maybe I'll read it when Zeta posts it, unless someone else in this post flush point continuity is running the store. I'm betting that Zeta.2 is as skilled as Zeta.1 ever was. Thanks for reading and if the spirit moves you send your thoughts to BigBoob58@hotmail.com. Of course ,this infers that BigBoob.2 will remember this series of stories.