Dark Damsel, Part/Chapter Two:

AVERTING THE ULTIMATE “BLOW” JOB

(Still) Written by Puz the Imp

(Lesee, picking up where I left off… The two lesbian bimbos were lying in bed, in Hellen’s apartment, doing stuff…yeah.)

(\ /)

W

Hellen Hussley thought about her life. Mostly, she thought about what it would’ve been like if she hadn’t found her grandmother’s super-powered cape among the truckload of antique junk that had been her inheritance. She was still in the process of discovering what it could do. The latest of those discoveries would probably have killed her if her (mediocre) co-worker and (phenomenal) lesbian lover Lucile Rikardo hadn’t realised that the cute little carrot-top didn’t smoke, but was really just making an excuse to sneak away, and decided to follow her.

Since Lucy more or less saved her life, and because it was damn hard to keep a secret when you were caught drowning in your own juices inside a well-known superheroine costume, Hellen had prompted to tell her the truth. So while she rested her head on Lucy’s abundantly pillow-sized chest, she told her whole story about how she became the Dark Damsel and the adventures she’d already experienced as the superheroine. She even let slip the cape’s one major weakness when Lucy asked why it’d spontaneously come apart when she accidentally stepped on her lover’s unconscious costumed form. The rubber soles of Lucy’s shoes had been enough to completely sap out whatever mysterious (read: Weird) force that gave the cape its powers.

Lucy laughed. It started with a few giggles, then a snort, and then went hysterical for nearly a minute. Hellen let it go on in spite of her fears that Lucy was thinking of another bad rubber/condom pun. Anyway, Hellen was happy feeling the brunette’s breasts vibrate like an erotic gelatinous dessert.

“So let me get this straight,” Lucy said. Here it comes, thought Hellen in response. “All those evil rapists you’ve captured had to do to beat you was follow the Surgeon General’s advice and put on some fucking protection?”

“Not unless they were planning to slap me into submission with their dicks,” Hellen retorted. “It only works if the rubber’s in direct physical contact with the cape.”

“No offence,” Lucy giggled, “but that is the lamest weakness ever!”

(No kidding.)

“I know, I know.” Hellen sighed. “I just wish I knew how grandma got around it.”

“Around? Hey,” Lucy suddenly exclaimed, “who was she? I mean, was she a superheroine, too? Which one?”

The name Hellen revealed to her was one of Metroburg’s legends: The Sultry Shadow.

Lucy’s eyes widened. “Wow! Wasn’t she, like, the only crime-fighting woman in history to retire with a perfect record?”

“Yeah. Not a single defeat, capture, stripping, rape or gang-bang, alien-impregnation, milking, (did I mention raping?) or even a knock-out in thirty-five years of service to the city!”

“She was even greater than Wonder Woman or Captain America!” Lucy said admirably. “I wonder why there aren’t any comics or TV-series or Internet porn sites dedicated to her.”

“Easy,” Hellen answered darkly,” because she was the most desirable babe of the decade, and no matter how badly the public wanted to see it, she never once got screwed!”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

Hellen slid over on her side so that one of Lucy’s amazing nipples arrived within tongue-distance of her…tongue (sorry, momentary lapse of graphic imagination, won’t happen again).

() ()*

W

It was not a dark and stormy night. The wind wasn’t howling like the warnings from a banshee of utter despair. Ominous light was not being cast down upon the Earth from a malevolent full moon. Foreign wolves passing through the area had better things to do than to scream challenges against an unseen force. Black cats decided they’d spent too much time licking and taking care of their fur to want to upset it by cowering in animalistic fear. All in all it was the most anti-climactic night of evil re-emergence, like, ever.

Four disembodied female voices, swimming on the air, argued amongst themselves atop a barren hillside overlooking the city. Their dialogue, though unheard by mortal ears (not a problem for yours truly), went something like this:

“This can’t be right.”

“Who the hell had the map?”

“This better be the right universe! Wore drives like an old lady on the Dimensional Freeway!”

“I do not!”

“Shut up, both of you! This is the ‘Earth #0.0000002.1a’ reality, I’m sure of it. Don’t you remember this smell from the last time we came here?”

“Yeah, Deph’s right. I told you we got off at the right exit.”

The conversation paused for a few seconds. Maybe one or more of the invisible women were surveying the sight of Metroburg City.

“What is this awful place?”

“Who cares? It’ll be gone by tomorrow night.”

“Come one, Wore. Fammy and I wanna have some fun before we erase the city. Remember New Tokyo? That plague of Nymphomania we did was totally hilarious! We can’t keep score of where we’ve been unless we know which cities we’ve destroyed.”

“Erased, not destroyed. Erased, Pennylence! Once we’ve drained all the mortal souls we’ve got to remember to remove all living memory of the city ever having existed. We can’t have another accident like with Pompeii.”

“Yeah, or Atlantis! Remember all the shit we had to sort through to burry that place before anyone noticed that it’d just vanished without a trace from the face of the Earth!”

“Don’t remind me! Setting off all those natural (natural, right) disasters gave me a migraine for, like, half a century!”

“Poor baby!”

“Shut up, Wore!”

/\ /\

W

But that little matter of impending genocide wasn’t going to cause anything particularly noteworthy for some time yet – Enough time to get to know a few of Metroburg’s finest “other” superheroines. Take Super Slut, for instance (why not, everyone else had! Hahahahahaaa!!! Oh, I kill me!). More could be said about her than Hellen Hussley’s judgemental opinion.

When describing the infamous Hooters’ waitress (mild mannered, and all that) who by night infrequently became the most well-known superheroine in the city, it would be best to start with her costume. High-heeled white pumps, a hip-length white cape, a cute little white mask over the eyes, and that was pretty much it. Otherwise, she was as butt-naked as the day she last got laid (Tuesday, around midnight, with a five-ton mutated slug). Her old costume, it was said, had been a lot more covering, but six years of experience had taught her that in the end she could save both time and effort by removing the need for her inevitable captors to tear her clothes off and thus make her have to sew it back together the following morning.

As for her superpowers, they were really more burdening than helpful. Like, she had this regeneration thing (you know, a thing, you know) which, on the plus side, allowed her to survive practically anything up to and including being run over by a steamroller, but it also caused her breasts to swell and enlarge bigger and bigger the more she got hurt. And then there was the pheromone stuff she used to make her opponents sexually desire her, regardless of gender or even species, which didn’t help much either because as often as not it back-fired, causing perverted compulsions like to break into the public zoo at night and invite the caged hyenas to have their way with her.

Finally, there was Super Slut’s shape which, in all honesty, looked less like a human being than a Barbie-doll. She’d been born a natural blond, but one particular even a few years ago had drained all colour out of it, leaving her hair a snowy-white that somehow resisted all brands of hair-colouring known to Man. Oh, and that comment didn’t solely apply to the hair on her head (this is the part where I go Wink-Wink, Nudge-Nudge, and we all have cheap laugh). Huge breasts were, obviously, normal among superheroines, but Super Slut’s pair were enormous even by their standards. Each milk-filled sphere was the size and sponginess of a beach-ball.

(*) (*)

W

Metroburg Harbour was stacked with abandoned warehouses, apparently reserved for the local villain population to have as suitable space for all the various evil plotting, scheming and molestation of intrusive superheroines that was so important to a villainous gang’s nightly activities. The latter was currently taking place; Super Slut was more than happy to be the life of the party, as it were.

The Three-Jay gang hadn’t really been planning anything that evening. So it was lucky that a real live sex-doll decided to show up and let herself be overpowered by a spare plank to the back of her head. Two of the criminal triplets took turns pumping Super Slut’s ass and cunt with their unnaturally-sized manhoods, while the third was happy groping, squeezing, stretching and nibbling on her gradually-growing tits (they usually shrunk back to normal once her wounds healed, but this time she was already fairly bruised from her last battle underneath evil). The three of them had been raping her continuously for almost half-an-hour now. John and John-John-John cumming inside her caused almost as much semen to spurt out onto the floor as was being poured inside her.

A cell phone started to ring. For a moment Super Slut’s orgasms were passing in time with the ringing noise.

“That yours, John?”

“No, John-John-John. It must be John-John’s, ‘cause he’s still got his pants on.”

“Yup, it’s mine. I’ll just see who it is.”

The guy who’d been purposely trying to enlarge her breasts dropped what he was doing (literally) to answer the call.

“Yeah?” he said. “Wow, how’d you know she was here? Yup, John and John-John-John are fucking her right now. Uh-huh. Why? Do we have to, right now? Yes, ma’am.”

John and his brother with the lengthier name finished tying and gagging the Super Slut, and then wiped their members of on her bloated breasts.

“Bad news, brothers,” said John-John, flipping off his cell phone. “Miss Big wants us back at her mansion.”

“Which one,” asked John-John-John.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s got lots of mansions,” John pointed out. “Alexia Luthor’s the richest secret crime-lady in the world. That’s why she can afford lots of billionaire-estates in addition to the top-secret hideout on the hill two miles south of the East-Side mental institution in West Street.”

“Man, she is so touchy about that secret lair. She’s even got all those assassins paid to kill whichever idiot henchman that’s stupid enough to blow its location to a superheroine. That and her secret identity, of course.”

“No kidding! We’d get our dicks shoved down our throats if we were dumb enough to leak out the fact that respected industrialist Alexia Luthor is really the evil criminal mastermind behind 90% of all organised crime in the city known only as Miss Big!”

Super Slut, bound and gagged on the sticky, wet floor, tried to make herself as inconspicuous as was possible for a full-figured woman with tits currently larger than her own head.

The Three-Jaw gang suddenly managed to stop babbling long enough for their brains to simultaneously start working again. All eyes were suddenly upon the overhearing, over-sexed superheroine on the floor.

“Well,” John-John said. “Guess we gotta kill her now.”

“Shame,” agreed John.

“At least we can always get an easy fucking from Babegirl or Hippie-Chick,” John-John-John pointed out.

“True,” the others agreed.

(\ /)

~

The three identical brothers managed to stock up a huge pile of explosives and really inflammable stuff from the crates and barrels strewn around the corners of the old warehouse. They shoved Super Slut right in the middle of the pile and got to work with her.

John-John started by soaking her body all over by pouring out a full canister of oil and smothering it over her naked flesh, especially her bouncier parts. John took advantage of her temporarily-enlarged nipples to stuff one tiny bottle of compressed nitro-glycerine into each nip-hole. John-John-John made a bet with the others to see how many sticks of dynamite he could fit into her stretched vagina. The bet ended at four huge sticks crammed tightly into her cunt, and two more in her rear. Finally, they topped off the death-trap with a ball-gag made entirely out of C4-plastic explosive.

The triplets stepped back to admire their handiwork.

“Gentlemen,” John announced, “I give you the Slut-Bomb!”

“Well, Super Slutty,” John-John said, lighting the long fuse running from the TNT in her pussy.

“We’d love to stay and watch you get blown.”

“But we gotta go see the boss lady.”

“See ya!”

(] [)

W

Dark Damsel and Identity Pending, her very new sidekick, had been watching the events unfold through the smudgy glass windows set in the roof of the warehouse. Neither of them were much concerned with the city’s mascot superheroine being one rapidly-shortening fuse away from an expansive death.

“Do you think we should be more concerned that the city’s mascot superheroine is one rapidly-shortening fuse away from an expansive death?” asked Identity Pending, idly stroking her partners shiny buttocks.

“Nah,” Dark Damsel answered, mildly annoyed that the title character had to wait this long before getting a good role in the second chapter of her own story. “Let’s let her sweat a while longer.”

Identity Pending was not that Dark Damsel’s sidekick would have preferred. In fact, it wasn’t even a name, just a bi-product of Lucy’s inability to come up with a catchy name that wouldn’t cause copyright infringement. What made the naming a lot harder was that Lucy didn’t have any superpowers, or special abilities, or even some martial arts talent, for crying out loud!

“How about, Lady Lookout?” the shiny super-female suggested, since it basically was her job to spy on the bad guys to make sure they weren’t packing any hazardous rubber materials.

“Lame.”

Dark Damsel glanced down at her shameless soon-to-be-detonated, slutty nemesis. “Do you think,” she asked the curious pigeons pecked at the roof, “it would be such a bad thing if I, you know, just let nature take its course?”

“Are you crazy!” Identity Pending was shocked at her irresponsible attitude. “Don’t you know there’s a homeless-orphanage-children’s hospital across the street from here! What the kids get hit by debris or something!?”

“Oh, my god, why didn’t you tell me sooner!” Dark Damsel shouted. “I must protect the innocent!”

“But what about-?” IP started.

“She is not innocent by any human standards, okay!”

(\ /)

W

(Don’t I get to make a lot faces in this chapter, eh?)

Super Slut wasn’t just a little surprised to have a shiny black blur of movement suddenly storm in through the door, jet across the room, whirlwind around her to remove the ropes and various explosives lodged in her cavities, and in the end plant a high-heeled boot in her pussy, thus extinguishing the fuse, but also cramming the dynamite sticks another few inches into her body.

“Oops,” uttered the dark-clad damsel. “I bet that’s gonna be a bitch to get out.”

Super Slut twisted her face and moaned like she was being fucked by- (No, no forget I said that! I don’t think there’s a simile out there that could compare with what she was actually, physically, experiencing. Let’s cut the crap, and say that by now her pussy was so well-lubricated that she could easily masturbate out the TNT lodged in her).

Super Slut finished moaning and, ignoring her careless saviour, started masturbating out the remaining TNT lodged in her.

Resting her hands on her hips, Dark Damsel narrowed her glowing red eyes at the over-sexed (how many times have I said that description now?) aptly-named superheroine. “Listen, you slut,” she said. “I’ll be straight with you (…). I heard every word those three morons said, and that’s why I’m going to follow them to that secret mansion. I’m going to apprehend Alexia Luthor after we’ve gathered enough evidence to get her. And I’m gonna that you with me so I can show you how a real superheroine is supposed to behave!”

“Boo-ya!”

Dark Damsel rolled her eyes. “Luuuceeee!!” she whined.

“Sorry, I got caught up in the excitement,” Identity Pending shrugged.

Super Slut didn’t seem very excited, though. “Yeah, sure, no problem, whatever,” she muttered, concentrating more on trying to finger the last stick like a someone trying to tweeze a fly out of their nose (…or something).

“I’ll watch your rears, guys!” IP said enthusiastically.

Dark Damsel patted her on the back. “I’ll be fine,” she said, smiling, as far as anyone could tell under the cover of her costume. “But you’d better keep an eye on milky-tits here,” she added, pointing her thumb over her back, and a few inches into Super Slut’s soft boob-flesh.

() /)

w

“So, what are we gonna do tonight, Deph?” asked the most feminine of the four voices.

“The same thing we do every night,” answered the least feminine one. “Try to devour the world! One damned city at a time.”

“Fine, we’re all looking forward to that, but can we please get some corporeal forms yet? Come on, this whole disembodied voice act is getting old, fast!”

“I agree. We’re not exactly well equipped for vanquishing mortal champions like this.”

“Yes. But first we must review our itinerary.”

“I remember; first we besiege a mortal dwelling…”

“…then we corrupt the morality of its inhabitants…”

“Which we didn’t have to do, since they were pretty immoral from the start.”

“…then we take mortal forms and await the arrival of the mightiest mortal champion.”

“Then we get to play with her for a while.”

“Or him.”

“No, trust me. It’ll definitely be a female this time.”

“Anyway. We kill the mortal hero, and finally devour the souls of the city’s inhabitants before we erase the place from existence and then move on to some other miserable dump.”

“Great! Now let’s move our spiritual butts down to the Red-Light districts! They got some great human bodies there we can copy for ourselves.”

Dark Damsel came to a halt outside the great titanium gates of Miss Big’s secluded mansion. Identity Pending, who’d been riding piggy-back on her all the way through town, got shakily off, stumbled and lost her balance. Super Slut landed beside them (did I mention she could fly, ‘cause she really could, you know!).

“Are you alright?”

IP leaned against her for support. “I’ll be f-fine, as soon as the damn world stops s-spinning.”

“Then let’s go kick some evil ass!” Dark Damsel grinned.

“Okey-dokey!” agreed Super Slut.

“God, I hate you!”

“Okey-dokey!”

“Urgh!”

(End part Two. Next: THE GARDEN OF HORNY VEGETABLES)