MS. AMERICANA VS. DR. FETISH
by
Wingman
THE FAIL
Ms. Americana struggled in vain against the vines binding
her. She pulled with failing strength,
all the while trying hard not to enjoy the sensations coursing through
her. The vibrator buzzed insistently and
try as she might she knew she couldn't get it out. It was strapped in, deep inside her, and the
vibration was steadily growing more intense.
Ms. Americana wriggled and shook her hips, clenched her fists and dug
her nails into her palms, all to try and distract her from the orgasm she knew
must soon overtake her. But she couldn't
cum; she must not! She was Ms.
Americana, queen of liberty, and she would not be tamed by this mere
device! But the buzzing sped up, and a
new throb of pleasure jolted through her, and it was getting harder and harder
to stave off the climax building inside her.
And beneath her wriggling, straining body, tiny nubs poked out of the
earth, twitching slowly, almost expectantly.
The pleasure swelled inside her, and she could feel the pressure
demanding release. She couldn't hold out
much longer...
12 HOURS EARLIER
THE MISSION
“...Turning to business news, Brenda Wade, heiress and owner of Wade Industries, has embarked on a two week overseas trip with her CEO, Daniel Vulpus, to oversee several of the international holdings of the corporation. This trip has raised many eyebrows among industry analysts, since Ms. Wade is best known for her partying and frequent shopping sprees rather than her business savvy. Whether this will prove to be a bold move for her, or another mistake, only time will tell. Now we move to sports, where the Delta City Bombers brought the heat to Capitol City...”
The small corporate jet had finished taxiing along the small
runway. Half a dozen people were moving
down the stairs onto the tarmac, where two black limousines waited a few dozen
yards away. A tall man dressed in
khakis, a button down white shirt, and a jacket slung over his shoulder waited
near the limos. The party reached the
tarmac, and a very tall, buxom woman moved to the head of the group, waving her
cell phone in the air around her.
She was tall, standing well over six feet wearing
high-heeled platform shoes that clacked as she walked down the tarmac. Her legs were long and shapely, leading to
smooth, round hips. Her white blouse was
stretched over a massive pair of breasts that looked barely contained by the
pink bra underneath it. Her face was
framed by long, think wavy hair, and half covered by a large pair of sunglasses. Just behind her was a shorter, slightly
portly man in a dark business suit. They
were in turn flanked by two women also in business dress, and two black suited
men who had the look of security agents.
The tall woman was talking loudly.
“God that was the most awful flight. Dan, we've gotta
get better movies than that. And why
can't I get any bars here?” She
continued to wave her phone around. The
portly man shook his head, and walked straight to the man waiting by the limos.
“Mr. N'Galla I presume?” he said,
holding out his hand.
“Please call me Richard.” N'Galla
responded with a deep voice and a strong handshake. “And you must be Mr. Vulpus?”
“Daniel.” Dan Vulpus returned the handshake with surprising strength. “And this is…” he gestured to the tall woman
now holding her phone high up in the air.
“I’ve got a bar! I’ve
got a bar!”
“…is Brenda Wade, our employer.” Vulpus sighed. He nodded to one of the black suited men who
trotted over to Brenda and gently took her arm.
“This way if you please, Ms. Wade.”
He guided Brenda into one of the two waiting limos, along
with Vulpus and N’Galla. The other guard and the two women climbed
into the other one. The cars pulled
smoothly away from the plane and headed towards the exit to the main road.
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am you are here, Mr. Vulpus.”
“Daniel, and it’s no trouble. Actually it was Ms. Wade…” he turned to
Brenda, hoping to find her paying at least a little attention to the
conversation, but found that her head was leaning back against the headrest and
her mouth dropped open slightly. Her
breathing was deep and steady. She was
asleep. Vulpus
pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again. N’Galla wondered
how often he did that every day.
“It was Ms. Wade who suggested the trip. On the books, we’re here to assess you’re
security and help deal with these attacks.
Personally…” Vulpus lowered his voice
slightly. “…I think she came along for
the shopping.” The hulking guard
chuckled softly. N’Galla
threw a doubtful look at Brenda.
“How did she manage to start Wade Industries?”
“Well she actually didn’t.
Her father did, just before he died.
Was murdered, really.”
The three men again looked at Brenda Wade. She still seemed peacefully asleep.
“The company was small, and held in trust for her until she
turned 21 and was able to participate.
But by then, she was clearly not interested in the business.”
“Then how did Wade Industries become so large?” N’Galla asked.
“Well, I was a junior executive when she turned 21, and she
asked me to take over running the company.
On paper she’s still the owner, but she told me that first day I could
run the company as I saw fit, and I’d get no interference from her. Her only condition was that we must donate
generously to the women’s shelters and various other feminist causes. Of course we had no problem with that so…”
“So you’ve really been the real power at Wade Industries
these past 10 years?” Vulpus waved his hand.
“No. I’ve got good
people under me, and I’ve brought some of my best to help us with your
problems. Tell me about these attacks on
your convoys.”
“Well, we’ve lost seven convoys now. And that reports all contain the same
detail. About a man in a white coat…”
As the cars made their way onto the main thoroughfare and
turned towards the nearby hotel, Brenda Wade feigned sleep and listened very
closely to the two men.
The limos arrived at the hotel twenty minutes later. Ten minutes after that, Brenda strode into her suite of rooms, complaining loudly of a headache and the need for some proper beauty sleep. She dropped the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the knob and locked the door. She saw her bags had already been sent up to her room, and were in a tidy stack at the foot of her king-sized four post bed. She picked out the largest, dropped it on the bed, and popped it open. She decided she needed to freshen herself up a bit, and to review what she had overheard in the limo.
Brenda Wade was perceived by the general public to be a
spoiled, pampered socialite, her generous donations to women's causes
notwithstanding. But this was all an act
on her part. Brenda had feigned sleep in
the limo in order to listen to N'Galla's accounts of
the thefts of supplies over the last few months. Had Brenda Wade shown an interest, it would
have surprised the three men, Dan Vulpus most of
all. She had acted the airhead too often
now to actually show she had a very good grasp of the goings on in her
company. But there was a reason for
this, just as there had been a reason to hire Dan Vulpus
and basically tell him to run the company as he saw fit. And it was the reason she was here in the
first place; the reason she had started the whole venture out here.
Brenda Wade was the greatest superheroine
in Delta City.
Brenda Wade was Ms. Americana.
Brenda pulled out a small bag of toiletries, and kicked off
her heels. She sighed and stretched out
her calves, digging her toes into the lush
carpeting. Brenda was a very distinct
looking woman. She was taller than most
women, standing at 5'11" barefoot, but she usually wore tall heels and her
shoes had lifts in them to make her appear taller. She popped the buttons off her strained
blouse, and unsnapped her bra.
"Ahhhhh....." she sighed
as her massive breasts bounced free. Ms.
Americana was well known for her impressive breasts, among other physical
attributes, so Brenda tended to bind them down in her civilian identity in
order to keep people from suspecting the truth.
It felt wonderful to finally set them free.
Brenda stepped into the bathroom, and started the water
running. She stepped into the tub, and
ran the hottest shower she could stand.
She stepped under the stream, and sighed again as the last few hours of
travel tension began to drain out of her.
Brenda ducked her head under the water, and began reviewing what she had
learned.
The factory N’Galla managed was a
pharmaceutical manufacturing plant.
Thanks to some extra funding from Wade Industries, the plant managed to
supply needed medicines to some of the poorer villages in the area. But in the last few weeks, several of the
convoys delivering these supplies had been hijacked. No one had returned except for a couple of
drivers and security personnel, all reporting the same thing. The convoy had been hijacked by mercenaries,
and by trees. All of them reported that
the branches of the surrounding trees had moved to intercept their
vehicles. And they had also all reported
seeing a figure dressed in a white coat, like a lab coat, somewhere near the
scene. It was this last piece of
information that had caught Brenda’s attention.
Delta City had been built over an extensive network of
tunnels; remnants of the old subway system that had fallen into disuse. Although technically abandoned, the tunnels
had become home to the many monsters, creatures, and mutated lifeforms that seemed to gravitate there. Brenda herself, in her alter ego, had fallen
victim to the strange, lustful appetites of the creatures in those tunnels more
times than she cared to remember. It
seemed an unspoken rite of passage for the superheroines
of Delta City that they encounter some of the creatures down there. Finally, the heroines banded together and
vowed to finally clear those tunnels of all the mutated life. It had been a herculean effort, had taken
nearly a month to complete, and had resulted in everyone getting their sexy
asses nailed several times. Ms.
Americana and Got Gal alone had spent almost an entire day battling an
especially thick and horny nest of plants which had fucked them to so many
climaxes they had lost count. But
finally, with the help of every heroine in Delta City, and the assistance of
Dr. Whirter, Delta City's expert on such mutated
creatures, the tunnels had been cleared, the creatures cataloged, and finally
neutralized.
Every heroine had also reported seeing a figure dressed all
in black, but sporting a white lab coat haunting the tunnels. No one had managed more than a fleeting
glimpse, but Brenda took it very seriously.
And a mere two weeks after clearing out the tunnels, Green Specter had
chased a purse thief down into one, only to come face to face with another insemenoid plant.
While she had escaped without being impregnated, she had endured nearly
an hour of forced climaxes, all to ripen her for impregnation. Poor Green Specter was several days in
recovering. Usually she and the other
non-powered heroines avoided the tunnels; they were all strong women, but they
didn't have the superhuman constitution Brenda did. Ms. Americana and Got Gal were the ones to usually
venture down there, their superhuman powers giving them the best chance of
handling whatever lurked below the city streets. But the incident revealed that either they
had missed something while clearing out the tunnels, some small nest or
something, or someone was reintroducing the mutated life back into the tunnels
again. Two days after Green Specter's
harrowing orgasmic ordeal, a memo crossed Brenda Wade's desk detailing the
attacks on N'Galla's convoys, and the reports of the
figure in the white coat. Brenda now had
a suspect.
She rinsed the last of the shampoo out of her thick, wavy
black hair, and now began to scrub her body.
She paid special attention to her massive girls, coating them with a
sudsy body wash, and rinsing in the steaming water. She luxuriated in the hot water streaming
down her voluptuous figure, steam billowing all around her. Finally, she stepped out, pink skinned and
clean, and toweled off. She stepped from
the almost stifling bathroom into the cool air of her room completely
nude. She felt more than a little horny
right now. Partly it was from the hot
shower leaving her skin tender; partly it was pent up desire from spending
several hours on the plane near her bodyguards.
They were both very good-looking, and despite her off-putting public
behavior, she had noticed the both of them checking her out from time to
time. Brenda briefly flirted with the
idea of going to their room next door just as she was and letting them have
their way with her.
A soft thump from the adjacent room, and muffled moans
reached Brenda's ears. It sounded as if
her secretaries had also caught her bodyguards' attention. Brenda, for a moment, ached to join them. As Ms. Americana she was no stranger to
sexual activity, but it was usually at the hands of some lust-filled villain,
fiendish monster, mutated plant, or deviant droid. They would manage to overpower her and force
her to climax, rendering her helpless, then have their way with her. But it had been so long since Brenda Wade had
enjoyed a genuinely intimate moment with a regular man. She pulled her attention away from the
whimpers sounding through the wall as one of her secretaries climaxed. That wasn't the life for her. She was Ms. Americana, and she had a job to
do here and now.
Brenda emptied one of her duffel bags, and pulled out a
false bottom, revealing her costume. She
pulled it out and laid out the pieces.
Her costume was basically a star-spangled bikini, along with boots,
gloves and a mask. More than once,
people in Delta City had commented on how skimpy her costume was, and how
easily it could be torn off, but she maintained her belief that as long as the
criminals were staring at her voluptuous body, the easier it was to subdue
them. She was undoubtedly the greatest
heroine in Delta City, so there was some logic to this argument. But she had been handed her share of defeats
as well.
She pulled on the bottoms and slipped into the top. The costume had recently been reworked, and
she had to admit it felt great. Prof. Whirter had promised that the new material would cling
better to her body, providing excellent support for her breasts and prove that
much harder to remove.
“You must remember, though, Ms. Americana,” he had told
her. “It, like your power belt, is still
tied to your concentration. If it is
broken, the costume will come off as easily as a standard bikini.”
“Not a problem, professor,” she replied confidently. “No ordinary criminal scum will breach my
concentration!” Whirter
had merely rolled his eyes. Time would
tell, he knew. After all, Ms. Americana
had been “breached” by criminals more frequently than she liked to say. No one knew that better than he, since he was
the man who inevitably helped the various heroines of Delta City deal with the
consequences of their exploits.
Brenda now slipped on the boots, which were red with a white
stripe running up the front and white trim at the top. She zipped up the sides and strode around the
room a bit, feeling the new boots out.
As promised, they were wonderfully supporting, and they had a new
feature. She concentrated, and the high
heels retracted into the boot. It would
be much easier to run in them now.
Brenda could have kicked herself for not realizing this sooner. And the tread could be changed from smooth to
rough in order to provide better traction.
Plus, it almost felt like she was standing on cotton, they were so soft
and supported. She pulled on her mask
and then turned to the source of her powers; her power belt.
The gold belt with a red letter “A” flanked by two blue
stars had also been retooled. Somehow,
in ways she had never completely understood, it unlocked fantastic powers in
her. It increased her strength, her
speed, her resilience, and allowed her to quickly heal from injuries. It also gave her phenomenal endurance. And its effects had a cumulative effect on
her. Without it, she had normal
strength, but she retained an increased healing ability, resilience, and
endurance. She had needed it on more
than one occasion when depowered by her foes.
More than once, Brenda had wondered if the belt had also increased her
sensitivity, since with the belt or without it, it was almost criminally easy
to get her to orgasm. Ironically orgasms
rendered the belt useless for a period of time.
Since this was a very poorly kept secret, it was a favored method of
Delta City's criminals to defeat her.
Brenda clasped the belt and settled it on her full round
hips, and she felt the rush of power.
Finally she pulled on her gloves, and went to the full length
mirror. No longer was this party girl
and spoiled heiress Brenda Wade. She now
beheld a proud, beautiful warrior, a fierce and buxom champion of justice; she
was Ms. Americana!
Americana slipped out one of the windows and, gathering her strength,
leaped out over the darkened, busy streets.
One good leap carried her over to the next building, and she vaulted to
the top, to orient herself. She found
the direction she wanted, heading to the Wade Industries factory, and jumped
out into the night.
THE JUNGLE
Nearly two hours later Ms. Americana was warily making her
way down a worn track that cut into the jungle.
She had stopped at N'Galla's factory and got
directions for the route the supply convoys usually took on their errands of
mercy. The factory and the villages were
perilously close to the Mutarian jungle, a thick
mysterious section of African jungle infamous for its mutated plant and animal
life. Ms. Americana was certain that
most of the mutated life that found its way to Delta City originated here. She moved carefully, wary of the vegetation,
looking for some sign of the figure in the white coat. She was sure he was the key to not only the
attacks on the convoys, but to all the strange creatures that had infested
Delta City.
After several minutes, she was farther into the jungle than
she was comfortable with. Perhaps it was
her imagination, but the trees seemed more sinister than before. Night would fall soon, and the sun's rays
were growing long and dim. The thick
trees overhead cut off most of the light, and only special lenses in her mask
allowed her to see well in this deepening gloom. But just as she was about to turn and make
her way back (no WAY did she want to be near the Mutarian
jungle at night), she spotted a figure maybe two dozen yards ahead of her step
out of the jungle onto the track. She
couldn't make him out well at this distance, but he appeared to be wearing a
white lab coat.
“Hellooooo! Ms. Americana!” he called to her.
“You! Freeze!” she shouted, and she took off,
sprinting as fast as she could towards him.
Her powerful muscles propelled her forward, and she closed the distance
in seconds. Just as she reached out to
grab him, he shimmered and disappeared.
“Damn! A hologram!”
“That's right, Americana!” called a cheery voice from
further down the track. The figure in
the white coat again stood before her, this time perhaps a dozen yards
away. Now she could see he sported some
type of black bodysuit under the coat.
But she still couldn't see his face clearly. He turned and began to move swiftly down the
track, deeper still into the jungle. Ms.
Americana paused briefly; she really didn't want to move any deeper into the
jungle, but she brushed this concern aside.
She was Ms. Americana! There surely
was no danger to her from a few mere plants and animals, no matter how
insidious their design.
She raised her hand and pointed at a low hanging tree
branch. A mental command,
and one of the stars on her glove shot out, trailing a high-tensile line. It snagged the branch, and the line
retracted, carrying the heroine up into the air. She swung high, released the line, and dove
back at the ground. She flipped around
in the air with the skill of the best Olympic gymnast, and landed several feet
in front of him. She landed in a crouch
then drew up to her full height, fists on her hips, feet planted squarely.
“Halt villain! There
is no escape from me!” The man skidded
to a stop. He had drawn a black bondage
mask over his face, but now stared at her not with fear, but with a large smile
on his face.
“Oh, I wouldn't dream of trying to escape the great Ms.
Americana,” he said, spreading his arms wide and raising his hands in a
surrendering gesture. She raised her
other glove, and shot out another line which wrapped around his torso, pinning
his arms to the side.
“Well, at least you show some wisdom. Now, I have several questions for you about
the attacks on the convoys through here, as well as what you were doing in the
tunnels beneath Delta City!”
“And I would be so very happy to oblige you, but I'm afraid
I'm not at your mercy, but rather you are at mine.” Amazingly, he had not stopped smiling, but
looked very pleased with himself. Well,
she was going to have to disabuse him of that!
“Are you insane? I
have you tied and under my power! Your
hologram may have fooled me, but I am faster, stronger, and you are out of
tricks, friend!”
“Is that so?” he replied, in a casual tone.
Ms. Americana heard a rustling behind her, but before she
could even turn her head, thick powerful vines appeared as if from nowhere, and
wrapped around her ankles, pulling her feet out from under her.
“OOF! What the...?”
but her exclamation was cut short as more thick vines shot out of the
gloom. She twisted to avoid one and
grabbed another, but the vines around her feet pulled her along the ground,
away from the track and into the trees.
She grabbed two more vines as they darted at her, and pulled on them
with all her enhanced strength. She
expected the vines to rip or tear, but they seemed to move with her. More vines crept up and wrapped around her
elbows. She pulled against them as they
pulled her up, but it was no use. Even
her incredible strength was useless against these vines.
“Release me at once!
You're only making things worse for yourself!” She put as much bravado as she could in her
voice, but the vines had her out muscled and outnumbered. More slid out of the gloom, twining around
her wrists, her knees, bearing her thrashing body into the darkness. The man meanwhile had managed to free himself
and was casually following her into the jungle.
“Oh dear! What ever shall I
do?” he said in a mocking tone. “Silence
her,” he said, and a thick vine snaked over her mouth, muffling her protests.
One chance, she thought to herself. If I can just reach my
power belt...
She remembered discussing the new belt with Whirter back in Delta City.
“It has a new feature you may find useful, Ms. Americana.”
“Do go on professor,” she replied.
“Well, as you know the belt channels incredible energies
into your body, and I've found a way to release those energies in one
burst. If you press the stars on the
belt simultaneously, it will trigger a power discharge. This discharge will supercharge your powers
for a few seconds, giving you several times your usual strength.”
“That could prove very useful if I'm being gangba... uhm I mean ganged up
on. By criminals. Gangs of them.” Ms. Americana really hoped she wasn't
blushing at that moment.
“Indeed,” he replied, not appearing to have noticed her
Freudian slip. “The downside is it will
deplete the power in the belt for a time, perhaps several hours, but as you
say, in an emergency, it may prove useful.
But remember, it will deplete the power, so use it only in the most dire emergency.”
“I'll remember.
Thanks Professor.”
Now, Ms. Americana had stopped struggling so hard against
the mighty vines restraining her. She
was focusing all her strength on pulling her hands down to her waist, trying to
reach the two blue stars on the front of her belt, and trigger the power
discharge. It was the only way out of
this situation she could think of.
Hopefully, she'd have enough power to rip her way free, and make for the
trail. With any luck, she'd have enough
juice to get a good head start and get out of the jungle. It was slow going, but she was managing to
inch her hands lower, closer to her belt.
She just needed a few more minutes.
After several minutes, they emerged in a large clearing in
the jungle, with a huge steel building in its center. The man in the coat led them through a wide
sliding door in to the gloomy unlit interior.
A flip of what sounded like a large lever, and lights began to flicker
on around the building. Ms. Americana
stopped pulling for a few seconds as she took in the interior.
They beheld a vast forest of the strangest vegetation she
had ever seen. Long twitching vines
crept up the walls, draped from the steel struts in the ceiling, which had
several large openings to allow in sunlight and rain presumably. Interspersed among these were brightly
colored flowers, short squat trees, large plants that appeared to be giant
Venus Flytraps. Rows and rows of
smaller, neatly arranged plants of many types and colors filled the
building. The air was a heady mix of
soil and fragrance, too many to identify.
More than once, Ms. Americana fancied she spotted a plant she recognized
from one of her many adventures in the Delta City underground, but they
continued down the long paths of vegetation.
Finally, they emerged at a bare patch of freshly plowed
earth. Neat furrows ran down its length,
and small bright green shoots were peeking up from a small patch near one
corner of the garden. She had nearly
managed to pull her arms down. Now if
she could just get her hands down. Just
another couple of minutes... she thought.
“How do you like my little garden, Ms. Americana? I dare say you've run into one or two of my
little plants before?” He gestured
casually at her, and the vine pulled away from her mouth.
“So I was right. You
are the one responsible for the mutant plants in Delta City.” He nodded.
“Well some of them. I can't take credit for all of
them. But it's been so educational,
watching you heroines struggle to deal with my creations. Actually, many of the mutated plants down in
the tunnels are your fault, Ms. Americana.”
“My fault? How dare you!” Almost there... she thought. If I can just keep him
talking...
“How many times? How often were you caught? Depowered?
Impregnated? You and Got Gal and Hexanna, and how many others? You weren't just hosts, Americana. Those mutoid plants
you birthed carried just a bit of something new from each of you, from your
superhuman biology. And new generations
of plants grew there, strengthened by you and your continued, doomed attempts
to battle them. I should actually thank
you, in so many ways you've helped my researches into the plants. And now you're going to help me again.”
“Like hell!” she growled.
Her hands were even with her waist, and she was inching them slowly
towards her belt.
Oh believe me, you will.
Oh, and as for this...” He
snapped his fingers as he walked towards her.
She wasn't sure what he was doing, but she wasn't prepared for his hands
to slide up her sides, wasn't prepared for his fingers to dig into her smooth
waist, wasn't ready for the tickling he gave her. Ms. Americana shrieked, her arms jerking back
and forth as more tendrils descended from the ceiling, wrapping around her
arms, her legs, pulling her spread eagled.
She rocked her body back and forth as best she could, biting
on her lower lip to suppress the giggles.
His fingers found the hollows just between her hips and her legs, and
she squealed suddenly, the laughter bursting forth.
“EEEEEE-HEEHEEE-HEE-HEE-HA-HA-HA-HA!
S-S-STA-HA-HA-HAAAP!”
Deftly, he reached around behind her, towards the clasp on
her power belt. With her concentration
shattered by the tickling, it popped open easily. With an electric TZZZOTTT! the belt came off, and she felt her strength dwindle and
fade away. No! She had been depowered!
“Y-you fiend!” she breathed heavily, her chest heaving as
she gulped air. “You depowered me!”
“And confirmed a theory. You're quite ticklish, aren't you Ms.
Americana? That's good,
it makes the next stage much easier.”
“Next stage of what?” She hung limp in the vines. With her belt gone, there was no way she
could break their grip now.
“Ah, there's just so much you don't know, Brenda my dear, so
much...”
“WHAT?!?” she stiffened in her restraints. How could he possibly know? “Wh-what did you call me?”
“Oh please, " he replied, moving to a small storage
cabinet. He returned with something in
his hands, and easily peeled her mask off her face.
“No!” she cried out.
“I've known for quite some time that you're Brenda Wade.” he
said matter-of-factly.
“H-how...?”
“Well, I applaud your public performances as the spoiled
party heiress, but really it was very simple.
There aren't many women in Delta city as tall, as well proportioned as
you. And really, this mask doesn't even
begin to hide your features. At least in
the comics Clark Kent acted all meek and mild-mannered so no one could suspect
him of being Superman, and Superman doesn't wear a mask, so no one thinks he
has a day job.”
“Then why didn't you...”
“What? Reveal your
identity?” As he said this he pressed
her mask back in place. “Taunt or
blackmail you? There was no need. I'm not interested in your dual identity, Ms.
Wade. Or do you prefer Ms. Americana?”
“Then what do you want?”
“You, or rather, your unique
superhuman biology. As I said, it's all
about the next step in the evolution of my little beauties. Strip her.”
At his command, smaller vines snaked down her body, slipping beneath the
straps of her costume. Brenda focused as
the vines tugged, but the new costume remained fixed in place. She couldn't help but smile at the small
triumph.
“Hmm...” he stroked his chin thoughtfully. He gestured at the vines, and the shifted,
lifting one of her legs to him. He
grasped the base of her boot firmly, and pulled. Unlike her bikini, the boots were not made to
cling to her body, and it easily slid off.
Her eyes grew wide as the vines tightened their grip, and as he pulled
her toes back, studying the bare sole before him.
“Wh-who are you?” she asked, trying to keep him from what she
feared he was about to do.
“Hmm?” he looked up at her.
Then he smiled a mysterious smile.
“You may call me... Dr. Fetish.” And he began to tickle her foot.
Ms. Americana yelped and tried in vain to pull her foot
away. It was useless; the vines held her
in place well. His fingers skittered up
and down her bare sole and she giggled as she tried to pull it away. His grip was too firm, and he teased and
scratched away. If anything, her feet
were even more ticklish than her sides, but it was a close call. She jerked around helplessly in the vines,
her laughter pouring out of her.
“NOOO-HO-HO-HO-HO-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!”
The vines shifted her other leg over, rustling as she
thrashed, and he slipped her other boot off.
Then both sets of fingers glided over her smooth, sensitive soles. Her shrieks intensified as the tickling
doubled. The vines again snaked down and
tugged at her bikini top. This time,
with her concentration in tatters, the vines succeeded in popping it off. Her massive breasts bounced free and jiggled
invitingly as she squealed and wriggled under Dr. Fetish's ticklish touch.
She felt tugging on her bottoms, and she tried to marshal
her will. She fought as hard as she
could, but it tickled so much! The vines
tugged, but the bottoms managed to stay in place.
“M-MMU-HU-HUSST NOT G-GIVE HEE-HEE-HEE
IN-N!” Fetish slid one hand up
underneath her knee, and found a wonderfully soft, ticklish spot. Brenda bucked and jerked, but could not pull
away. The bottoms of her costume began
to peel away. Finally, the vines pulled
her bottoms completely off. Fetish
ceased his tickle attack, and she gasped for air. It had taken maybe a minute, but it had felt
like forever.
“Oh yes, wonderfully ticklish! This will be just perfect,” Fetish said as he
tossed her garments aside. She was now
stark naked, except for her gloves, tiara and a small star studded choker that
held a radio transmitter/receiver. It
would be no help since she couldn't reach it, and she rather doubted it could
penetrate the dense forest. Fetish
paused to admire her body. In a word,
she was stunning. Tall and statuesque;
her smooth shapely legs led to the luscious curves of her hips and
derriere. A tight fit waist led up to her
impressive breasts, all the more impressive for the fact that they were,
despite their size, still firm and perky, with hard pink nipples jutting
forward. Her face was supermodel
beautiful, with full seductive lips, piercing blue eyes and raven black hair
that cascaded down her back, thick and wavy.
He raised a hand to signal the plant.
The vines again shifted, and she was pulled vertically, in a spread
eagle position.
“As you may have guessed, I engage in all sorts of
biological experimentation here. The
native plant life is already mutated beyond anything we know in the
States. I haven't yet worked out why,
but these plants are quite easy to mutate further, and I've found a rather
pliant breed of inscemenoid plant that is
particularly easy to tailor to my needs.
Or my fetishes.” He led the vines over to a section of the
bare earth, just over one of the neat furrows.
Brenda had managed to get her breath back, but she still felt her pulse
racing. And was it her imagination, or
was she actually a little horny?
“I have introduced several strains of these plants, and some
of the animals, in the underground tunnels in Delta City. As I expected, you and your fellow heroines
have encountered them several times.” He
smiled a wicked smile. He didn't need to
elaborate. She knew exactly what he was
getting at. She had lost count of the
number of times she and others like Got-Gal had encountered and been
overpowered and impregnated by the mutated creatures. Fortunately their spawn arrived within a few hours,
and prolonged exposure to her belt had imparted her with a naturally enhanced
healing ability, so she never suffered any ill effects. But she was chilled by the realization that
all these years she had been used. And
that the creatures had grown stronger for it.
“Why are you doing this?
You're mad, but obviously brilliant.
Think of all the ways you could help humanity!” She noticed him fiddling with the object he
had retrieved from the storage cabinet. She
couldn't see it, but was certain it was some diabolical device. She was trying to keep him talking, trying
desperately to think of something she could do to get out of this situation,
maybe even get at her power belt. If she
could only get at the belt!
“Oh I intend to help humanity! I have discovered many new medicines and
treatments here for the ill and infirm.
My research is not yet complete, but rest assured I have no intention of
keeping all I have discovered from mankind.
But that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun in the process!” He pulled a small remote out of his coat
pocket and clicked it.
“How is tormenting me going to benefit humanity?” she said,
now beginning to tug slightly at her bonds.
It was futile, they may as well have been tree trunks for all that she
could budge them. And even with her
belt, she hadn't been able to break their grip.
She couldn't quite keep the worry from her voice. She was trapped, powerless, naked, and
spread-eagled. And dammit,
she couldn't deny that she was definitely horny. She couldn't help it; the tickling had turned
her on, being bound was always a turn on, and she couldn't deny there was more
than a little erotic thrill to the dangers she faced.
“Well, not every discovery I have made is a breakthrough in
medical science. But some of the things
I have found here have an appeal...elsewhere.”
He let that sink in a bit. Chains
of logic lined up in her head. She
looked around, and for the first time noticed small blinking red lights
scattered around them. Video
cameras! The bastard was going to record
whatever fiendish torment he had in store for her! Or, if he had managed to secure wi-fi out here, it would be broadcast all over the
internet! Again he smiled as the
realization of her predicament dawned on her.
“Now, let me introduce you to my latest creations,” with a
gesture, the vines angled her body enough that she could clearly see the ground
beneath her. She saw rows of tiny green
shoots peeking up from the rich dark soil.
They were little more than small nubs, a few had tiny leaves just
beginning to unfurl. And they were
moving. Ms. Americana's eyes grew
wide. She looked at Fetish, who was
smiling broadly.
“Yes, another variation on the inscemenoid
plant. This one bred with a very
specific purpose. I planted these seedlings
only yesterday, and already they're poking out of the ground. Fast, but not quite fast enough for my
purposes. Fortunately there is a
substance that will super-accelerate their growth.” He stepped towards her, the device in his
hands now clearly visible. There were
two long straps dangling from a large, thick dildo. She gasped; eyes wide in equal parts horror
and curiosity.
“Y-you don't mean...”
“Yes! The honey of a super-powered heroine such as yourself!” Again she pulled vainly at her bonds as he
stepped between her legs. The vines
snaked around, moving further up her legs, holding her hips steady.
“B-but you took away my power belt! I don't have any powers without it! My honey won't do you any good!” He gave her a pitying look.
“I don't think you really understand the true nature of your
power belt, Ms. Americana. Haven't you
ever wondered how or why it unlocks such fantastic powers in you? Haven't you ever noticed the changes it's
made to you? How often have you been
without the belt and forced to endure prolonged, intense
physical...activity? And yet you never
show any ill effects. Even your body has
changed, your breasts grown fuller than they were a few years ago, your hips
rounder, your body so...”
“How do you know all this about me?” she cut in, trying hard
not to blush. And she noticed he seemed
a bit red under his hood. He smiled his
Cheshire-cat smile again.
“My secret, my dear. Suffice to say, you have greater endurance
and healing abilities than an ordinary woman even without the belt. A greater sensitivity to
stimulation. The effects are
small, but they are cumulative. True,
you are quite mighty with the belt, but still resilient without it. And it's that resiliency I'm counting
on.” With that, he pressed the tip of
the phallus against her maidenhead.
Despite herself, her back arched slightly as he eased it into her. The tickling and the bondage had already
aroused her, so it slid in easily. Ms.
Americana bit her lower lip and stifled a small moan of pleasure.
“This vibrator will easily climax you, and I know full well
that you squirt when you cum.” He pulled
the straps around her upper thighs, securing the dildo in place. She would not be able to shake it out of her.
“Once you...water my little beauties, they will grow at an
incredible pace. They will then deposit
their seeds into your womb. Your wonderful, ripe womb.
Your love juices will then fertilize the next generation of seeds, and
I'm much mistaken if they don't also grow incredibly fast. I expect that within an hour or two, you'll
have planted my whole garden!” With
that, he clicked a small switch at the base of the device. The sudden low buzzing made her stiffen and
jerk her hips.
“OHHHHHH!!” she moaned.
She pulled against the vines, unconsciously swiveling her hips. It was sensuous and hypnotic. Fetish was briefly possessed of an urge to
bury himself in that pussy, but he mastered the impulse. All in good time. He turned to move off the garden.
“W-wait!” she called, her voice husky with desire. Already she could feel the climax building
inside her. But she was curious, and she
needed information. If she could somehow
escape, she could get valuable information to Professor Whirter
on this new breed of inscemenoid plant. Fetish turned back to face her.
“W-what <gasp> AAHHH! W-what are these plants <UNHHH!>
c-called?”
“Oh didn't I mention?
I call them Tentickler plants!” He pointed his remote at her, and suddenly
the low buzzing intensified.
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!”
Slowly, Ms. Americana writhed in the vines, helpless as the
pleasure mounted. Fetish had been right,
she was sensitive, and holding back the climax was difficult. She knew if she was climaxed, her power belt
would be useless to her for several hours, even if she did somehow manage to
get free and put it back on. Plus, she
was in no hurry to experience the touch of those tentickler
plants. It had been unbearable enough
with the brief tickling Fetish had given her.
She wasn't sure how long she could handle plants bred for the
activity. Especially plants she had
empowered with her own honey.
Her skin flushed, and in the jungle heat and humidity she
was shining with perspiration. Her groin
throbbed, her blood pounded in her ears, and she struggled to defy the orgasm
that was so close to exploding out of her.
She pulled and strained, moaning and whimpering. So close, and she so desperately wanted to
cum. But the vibrator buried in her was
relentless and inescapable. She arched
her back, clenched her fists, and finally, her while body tensing, she finally
came in a senses shattering climax.
THE PLANTS
Ms. Americana shook as she came, grunting as the orgasm
thundered through her. Her pussy gushed
and her honey spurted out and sprinkled on the small nubs poking out of the
ground. The shuddered for a moment, then
began to push their way out of the ground.
The vines holding her began to slowly retract, slithering off her and
the tentickler's growing vines took their place. Ms. Americana was too dazed to try to wriggle
free; she still shuddered as the last aftershocks of the mammoth orgasm rumbled
through her. On some level, she knew she
was now completely helpless. Even if she
could reach her power belt, it would be useless. And the orgasm had been staggering; all the
energy she had used to try and resist it had only doubled back on her in
amplified pleasure. The tentickler's vines grew longer, thicker, with long,
feathery fronds unfurling from the tips of the branches. The vines pulled off her gloves, peeled away
her mask, her tiara followed it to the ground.
They snapped off her choker/transmitter, leaving her completely nude,
and they pulled the vibrator out of her.
She experienced a moment of relief as the maddening buzzing ceased, and
she sagged in the vines, gasping and exhausted.
Even so, she felt her body regaining some energy, the resiliency her
power belt had permanently imparted to her beginning to work its magic. And despite the power of that climax, she
knew she was still aroused.
After a few precious seconds, she lifted her head, feeling
marginally stronger. She had stopped
shaking, although her breathing was still deep, making her breasts heave with
each breath. Her skin was flushed and
still tingling. The vines still held her
spread-eagled, her arms stretched above her head, her legs pulled wide,
exposing all of her most sensitive areas.
She was pulled horizontally, parallel to the ground. She looked down her body at the almost fully
grown plant.
Its body was about half as thick around as a fully grown oak
tree, brown at the base, shading to pale then vivid green as the trunk grew
upwards. At the top, the tree blossomed
out the tendrils that now ensnared her, the feathery leaves shading to vivid
purples and reds. Almost casually, one
of the large red fronds brushed across her stomach.
“EEEEP!” she shrieked at the sudden tickling sensation. Another vine brushed its feathery tips over
her feet.
“<gasp> MMMPH!” she
tried to stifle the laughter, hoping it may dissuade the plant. But such was not to be. Her skin felt several times more sensitive as
normal, thanks to the orgasm, and the plant easily elicited more giggles and
muffled whimpers from her as it poked and teased her body, feeling out her
vulnerable spots. Four separate tendrils
rose over her hips, and began to gently, and with increasing pressure, press
and tease her just inside her hipbones.
“NOOOO-HO-HO-HO-HO-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!”
She jumped and shrieked as, unbeknownst to her, two more
tendrils rose from beneath her and began to poke at her upper thighs and
buttocks.
“WHAAA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! NOO NOT THERE
PLEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEEASE!”
Her cries rang through the clearing, high pitched shrieks
and squeals mixing with throaty laughter.
The plant seemed to somehow feed on her laughter, growing more bold and
confident as it teased and tickled this sensitive body it had discovered.
“HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! STAA-HAA-HA-HA-HA-HOOOP!”
The vines wrapped around her ankles had several swollen nubs
running along their length. These nubs
grew, finally opening to allow several thin creeper vines to snake out. They wrapped themselves around Brenda's toes,
pulling her feet back. More of the
creeper vines moved down and began poking and stroking her now vulnerable
soles. For several long minutes, she
shrieked with laughter as the vines tickled her feet, hips, buttocks, and her
underarms. From the base of the plant,
two long tendrils emerged, and began to drip a clear, thick, aloe like
substance on her skin. Mercifully, the
tickling eased as the vines started rubbing her body, coating it with the
strange substance. Whatever it was, it
felt cool and tingly, a relief for her burning flesh
after her tickling ordeal. She heaved in
great breaths of air, grateful for the break in the tickling. Vines slid over her body, wrapping around her
massive, heaving breasts. The tips of
these vines ended in small tufts of the feathery leaves. Suddenly, these began to lightly flick over
her glistening nipples.
“OH NO! OH GOOOOD! HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!”
Brenda had always been ticklish. But never before had she been tickled like
this. And never in her wildest fantasies, or her most intense sexual encounters had anyone
ever tickled her nipples. She wriggled
her torso back and forth, trying to shake off the maddening sensations, but it
was hopeless. The tickling sent electric
charges through her body; her nipples throbbed and tingled and if possible it
made her even hornier. All through this,
she didn't see the vines rising between her spread legs. She didn't feel the restraining branches
tighten around her legs, and was unprepared for the sudden light brushing just
outside her throbbing pussy.
“<shriek> NOO! NOT
THERE! PLEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE! MERCY!
HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HAAAA!”
She bucked her hips wildly, trying to escape the maddening
tickling, but the vines held her fast.
She could only manage to wriggle a few inches, and even then the vines
were inescapable. And now the tickling
onslaught intensified as the leaves again assaulted her feet, her underarms,
her buttocks, her hips. The strange aloe
seemed to have merely exfoliated her skin, leaving it even more sensitive. Brenda struggled helplessly as the tentickler plant teased, tickled, tortured. She begged and pleaded for mercy, writhed and
strained, her shrieks and squeals sounding into the
night.
It was an eternity later when the vines began to pull back,
one at a time. She slumped back,
exhausted and gasping, sweat pouring down her body, her skin bright pink and
still tingling. She gulped down air,
panting heavily. Two slender, deep green
vines with bulbous heads and a slight pucker at the tip rose up on either side
of her. They moved down to her groin,
and for a moment she was sure they were going to resume tickling her hips.
“N-no…more. Please…I can’t…take any more!” she gasped out.
“Oh these vines aren’t for tickling, Ms. Americana,” boomed
a voice. Fetish;
obviously on some sort of loudspeaker.
She dimly remembered he said something else about what this wicked plant
did, but she couldn’t recall. Then, one
of them dipped between her legs, and slid over her dark pink pussy. She jumped and yelped in surprise.
“These are the stamen of the plant; the parts that contain
the seed.”
“Oh…” she whimpered as she remembered. Then she stiffened, arching her back and
letting out a long moan as the phallic tendrils easily pushed into her slick,
throbbing pussy. They eased in slowly,
twining around each other, and delicious pleasure fired through her.
AAAHHHHHHNNNNN!” she groaned as they eased deep into her. The plant began to pump its phalluses slowly
into her, slowly increasing their speed.
Brenda groaned and cried out as the rhythm drove her towards a climax.
“You see, the tentickler plant
ripens its victims with the tickling, preparing them to receive its seed. Your ripe womb will provide the perfect
breeding ground, and your superhuman body will help them grow as fast as their
parents. Won’t that be just delightful?”
Fetish boomed out again. She couldn’t
spare the energy to try to find him. The
pace had increased, and she was fast approaching an orgasm. After such intense tickling, she didn’t have
the strength to try and hold it back.
She racked her brains, trying to order her thoughts through the haze of
mounting pleasure.
Must
find a way to get free. If this thing cums
inside of me…
The thought of another of these things was too much to
bear. The tendrils thrust deep into her.
She was nearly there.
“In fact,” Fetish added.
“I think it’s time for a bit more ripening, don’t you?”
In the second it took her to register what he had said, the
vines resumed their tickling.
“What? OH
NOOO-HOO-HOO-HOO-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!” The
vines pumping in and out of her continued to fuck her, but the orgasm was
ruined by the sudden resumption of tickling.
But now giggles and squeals mixed with moans as new sensations coursed
through her, overwhelming her. She
writhed in the vines, unable to escape the torturous teasing, the delicious
fucking, the unbearable, relentless, maddening,
wonderful ecstasy pounding through her.
Slowly, the plant drove her back to orgasm, all the while continuing the
tickling assault. The vines teased her nipples,
tickled her feet, her underarms, her hips, alternating the rhythm, pushing her
into a fever pitch of lust and pleasure.
She felt sure she would burst soon.
Tears squeezed out of the corners of her eyes, her body glistened in the
pale electric light, the pressure in her body mounting. Almost there, but the tickling made it oh so
torturously slow. She was aching to cum,
desperate to climax, praying the tickling would ease just a bit. Instead, it seemed to kick into a higher
gear.
“PLEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEEASE!!!” A tiny creeper vine had slid down, and
lightly flicked a feathery frond over her swollen, pink clit. Brenda thought she would explode from the
feeling, at once pleasurable and unbearable, it
tickled so bad she thought she would go insane, and still the pressure built
inside her, demanding release but being denied.
She could feel the vines pumping in her speeding up, could feel them
swell, could feel them erupt inside her, spurting out
the plant’s potent seed. The feeling
finally blew her past the tickling, past the pleasure, past everything as the
long denied climax exploded inside her.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”
She cried out in sweet release, shaking and spasming, her pussy gushing her
honey out. The phalluses finished
squirting their loads inside her, and pulled out. As they did, the seeds, now fertilized, fell
to the soil and began to grow, sprouting thickening vines, reaching roots into
the earth. The plant that had held her
gently laid her down on the ground, withdrawing. For a full minute, she shook there as the
aftershocks of the orgasm thundered through her. Another minute and her head began to clear,
the resiliency and enhanced recuperative abilities given her by her belt
beginning to restore her strength. She
managed to push herself up onto her knees, only to come face to face with a new
swarm of eager vines.
“Oh no!” she gasped as the vines swept her up and the
torture began anew.
Over the course of two hours, the vines teased and tickled
Ms. Americana, ripening her before seeding her, and planting another generation
of plants. It was only when she reached
the end of the row the Fetish himself returned, exercising his strange power
over the plants, finally releasing her.
After planting 12 tentickler plants and
enduring their relentless torture, she fell to the ground and passed out,
completely and utterly spent. New vines
reached down and gently bore her to a small cot off to one side of the
garden. Dr. Fetish looked at his new
creations, and began to form plans to transport seeds to Delta City. He pulled his remote out of his coat pocket
and clicked it, ending the recordings he had made of her ordeal. He knew they would fetch top dollar on the
black market. Hell, he knew of at least two
ticking websites that would fall all over themselves to acquire this footage.
He turned and strode deep into his garden while Ms.
Americana slept. Tomorrow would be
another big day!