A SHORT STORY Wonder Woman finds herself among Earth's heroines, trapped by an alien force. Can she resist as their own superpowers fuel a dark purpose that threatens to doom them all to the stars?
Wonder Woman stirred, her mind wading through the fog of anesthetic gas, her body suspended standing upright in a semi-transparent cocoon with a slight sheen to its stretchy, secure material. The cocoon molded to her every curve, holding her legs together and her arms firmly against her sides, while an outer layer of hexagonal-patterned netting, flexible yet unbreakable, encased her further, its geometric design framing her body in a provocative display. She was suspended from the superstructure within a vast bay of an alien ship, its towering walls pulsing with bioluminescent veins that cast a cold, teal light, bathing the chamber in an eerie glow. The air thrummed with a low, ominous hum, and sleek, biomechanical panels lined the ceiling, their surfaces etched with glowing, indecipherable runes that pulsed in sync with the ship’s heartbeat-like rhythm. The alien threat was palpable, a sterile, predatory presence woven into the ship’s design, its technology both mesmerizing and menacing, as if engineered to dominate and consume.
Her iconic costume—a scarlet bodice with gold wing accents—gripped her torso, her full breasts thrust forward by the cocoon’s unyielding embrace, the metallic accents reflecting the teal light. The star-spangled blue bottoms, cut daringly high, angled sharply over her hips, exposing the smooth expanse of her pelvis. Sheer, glossy pantyhose shimmered over her legs, the nylon stretched taut from her pointed toes to her waist, encasing her thighs and ass in a seamless, oily sheen that caught the light with every flex. Her red and white boots pointed downward, her legs pressed together, lengthening her shapely calves and accentuating the curve of her ass as her muscles strained against the restraint.
Her arms hung at her sides, wrists pinned to her upper thighs by unbreakable bands, their cool surfaces pressing deeply into her pantyhosed flesh, the nylon’s slick texture sending a subtle jolt through her nerves. Another band drew her elbows toward each other behind her back, forcing her breasts to strain against the bodice, the position calculated to expose and arouse. Her belt of strength was at her waist, yet her initial attempts to summon her Amazonian power were repelled by a strange, dampening force, as if alien technology neutralized her might. Even attempts to poke a fingernail through the cocoon's sheer fabric were met with failure and frustration. The sensation of suspension was disorienting, her muscles flexing uselessly against the cocoon’s grip.
As her vision gradually cleared, the sedation’s haze lifting, Wonder Woman turned her head slightly, her peripheral vision catching three other cocoons suspended in the alien bay. Supergirl, Batgirl, and Power Girl hung in identical restraints, their bodies molded by the same stretchy material, the strong hexagonal netting outlining their forms. They appeared enthralled in orgasms, their bodies writhing, their pantyhose slick with arousal. Supergirl’s blue and red costume featured a micro-mini skirt so short it barely concealed her pantyhosed crotch, her glossy pantyhose shimmering from toes to waist. Her head was thrown back, blonde hair spilling, her lips parting in soft, shuddering moans and whimpers as her hips bucked. Batgirl’s black bodysuit, with high-cut leg openings, blended with her sheer black pantyhose, the nylon gleaming as her lithe, athletic body writhed, her high-heeled ankle boots accentuating her dancer’s calves—legs so perfect even Wonder Woman felt a pang of envy despite her own incredible stems. Batgirl’s high-pitched whimpers and trembling moans filled the air as her body shuddered. Power Girl’s white costume, with its chest window showcasing her deep cleavage and high-cut bottoms emphasizing her fantastic hips, complemented her glossy tan tights. Her deep, throaty moans and breathless whimpers echoed as her hips twitched, her body quaking within the cocoon.
The air was thick with their ecstasy—soft moans, breathy whimpers, and trembling cries of release blending into a chorus of surrender, their bodies writhing in relentless orgasms, their pantyhose slick with arousal. Wonder Woman’s curiosity spiked—why were they so enthralled? Her gaze darted to their cocoons, and she noticed sleek, vibrator-shaped devices pressed against their pussies, nestled between their thighs through their costumes and pantyhose, pulsing rhythmically. Only then did she feel a similar device nestled against her own pussy through the thin, star-spangled fabric of her bottoms and the glossy pantyhose beneath. It activated, delivering the vivid sensation of a tongue slowly gliding between her labia, teasing her clit and making her pussy tingle and grow wet. A soft gasp escaped her lips, her hips twitching involuntarily as the sensation intensified, the pantyhose’s smooth, glossy texture amplifying every glide, the nylon slick against her skin as her pussy throbbed.
A faint whirring sound interrupted her focus. Two contraptions descended silently from the bay’s ceiling, their sleek, alien design glinting in the teal light. One stopped in front of her face, the other behind her head. The rear device extended a C-shaped band, its smooth, cold surface gently settling at the base of her skull, its tips pressing lightly against the mastoid process bones behind her ears, the contact intimate and unnerving. The front device hissed, releasing a nearly invisible mist that brushed her face. Wonder Woman tensed, expecting another sedative, but a warm, electric flush coursed through her body. Her pussy throbbed harder, her clit swelling under the device’s simulated tongue, her skin prickling with heightened sensitivity. The mist was a powerful aphrodisiac, amplifying every sensation, making the nylon’s friction against her thighs and the device’s teasing unbearable.
“Who is doing this to us?” Wonder Woman demanded, her voice sharp despite the growing heat in her core. “What are these devices?”
A cold, metallic voice resonated through her skull, not through the air but via bone conduction from the C-shaped band. Silence. Verbal communication is unnecessary.
“I’ll speak if I choose!” she snapped, defiance flaring. “Answer me!”
The response was silent and swift. A third device descended, clamping a sleek, curved gag that pressed the flexible cocoon material into Wonder Woman's mouth, its surface invading her mouth and depressing her tongue to the floor of her mouth, silencing her protests. The gag was soft yet unyielding, holding firm as she strained against it.
The alien voice spoke again, its words vibrating through her skull: This device at the base of your skull reads your thoughts. Speech is redundant. We targeted Earth’s superheroines for their exceptional physical and mental potential, capable of withstanding orgasmic energy extraction. An early experiment on a civilian female left her a hollow shell, her mind devoid of intellect. The one you call Batgirl, lacking superhuman physiology and reliant on her keen mind and athletic form, is most at risk of cumming to death. You, Wonder Woman, hold the greatest potential. Your orgasms will power this vessel’s return to our quadrant of the galaxy.
The alien AI continued, The devices that hold such fascination for you are NeuroStimulation Projectors, or NeuroStims, capable of exploiting your humanoid nervous system to simulate lifelike, sexual sensations to maximize orgasmic energy yield. For example, Supergirl’s NeuroStim presently mimics rapid clitoral licking, Batgirl’s simulates slow anal penetration while her G-spot is fingered, Power Girl’s delivers deep penetrative thrusts of a alien penis capable of reaching her cervix, and yours... well, as you most certainly are aware, is mimicking the sensation of a tongue gliding between your labia. Indeed, Wonder Woman, the possible combinations of the NeuroStim are limitless and capable of edging you when necessary or taking you to the edge of madness from constant pleasure.
Wonder Woman’s mind reeled, her thoughts racing—A civilian left mindless? Batgirl at risk? NeuroStims? She glanced at her companions, their bodies writhing in their cocoons, enthralled in orgasms. Supergirl’s soft, shuddering moans intensified, her micro-mini skirt riding up, revealing her pantyhosed crotch. Batgirl’s high-pitched whimpers grew frantic, her dancer’s calves flexing in her high-heeled ankle boots, her pantyhose dark with dampness as her body shuddered. Power Girl’s throaty moans deepened, her fantastic thighs and deep cleavage trembling, her tan pantyhose glistening.
Wonder Woman's own aphrodisiac mister hissed as it dosed her again, her pussy now drenched, the star-spangled fabric and pantyhose soaked as her NeuroStim’s pulses escalated, adding subtle humming against her clit to the simulated tongue gliding between her labia. Her clit throbbed, each sensation sending a jolt of incredible pleasure that made her hips buck involuntarily, the nylon’s glossy texture amplifying every glide. A muffled moan escaped through her gag, the cocoon material pressing against her depressed tongue, her body succumbing to the relentless pleasure. Wonder Woman's defiance began to crumble quickly, her mind joining her body in surrendering to the overwhelming sensations, the NeuroStim hinting at further escalations. Her pussy clenched, the heat building to a crescendo, and a powerful orgasm ripped through her, her body spasmodic within the cocoon, her pantyhose slick with her release. Her muffled whimpers joined her companions’ moans, the alien bay’s bioluminescent veins glowing brighter, feeding off her surrender, the faint spark of resistance extinguishing from Wonder Woman’s mind, taking with it any hope to save Batgirl and to escape the ship’s parasitic hunger.