The Femme Defenders in: Six Little Heroines

By NoComeupance (nocomeupance@gmail.com)

Part 7: The Thrilling Conclusion

Author's note: This story follows from Enter the Mind Mistress. You can probably pick up on everything you need here, but reading that story will provide a better introduction to the characters. All characters are my original creations. Or, where stolen, they've at least had the serial numbers filed off.

The ceiling opened above the sixth and final tube and the denuded Mind Mistress plummeted to the ground, face-first. The painful impact was a welcome distraction from the throbbing in her rear end.

“Faaan-tastic!” groused Velvet Glove, “Brainy got herself captured. We are officially boned.”

Mind Mistress groaned and grasped her butt, rubbing it rapidly in an almost entirely futile effort to ease the deep hurting it was inflicting upon her. After a few moments of this she decided that further efforts would likely prove unproductive, so she gradually, haltingly made her way up to her feet. She turned around, doing a quick assessment of her environs.

The first thing she noticed was the large part of the room cast in darkness, but for the glow of monitors. She surmised that this was the facility's control center. The silhouette of a figure sat in the chair there, almost certainly belonging to the villain who had masterminded this facility's construction. She identified a curious smell in the room; a mixture of caked-on sweat and stale pizza. Shelves lined the walls, filled with visual media of various outdated formats. She quickly determined that the common bond shared by all the media collected was that they concerned themselves with more esoteric aspects of Twenty-First Century popular culture. This connection was confirmed by the large trophy case on the opposite wall, filled with various statuettes and action figures of characters from comic books and video games. Of more interest, the case also contained six uniforms: hers, Velvet Glove's, Jacky-of-All-Trades', Zoe's, Flower Power's, and Bronco Buster's. Each was labeled with the name of its former owner, though her own had the name “Future Girl” crudely scratched out and “Mind Mistress” written in shaky hand-writing above it.

Mind Mistress herself was confined to a clear tube, which she quickly determined to be transparent aluminum, based on its unique, tell-tale tint. Not even the combined might of Velvet Glove and Flower Power could make a dent in it, which was a shame since each of Mind Mistress's teammates was confined in a tube of her own.

A snicker from Velvet Glove drew Mind Mistress's attention.

“I'm sorry,” said Mind Mistress, “Have you discovered some humorous aspect of our present situation?”

“It's just... your panties!” the Velvet Glove broke down laughing, and soon several of her teammates joined her in snickering, “I just wouldn't expect a poindexter like you to wear such.... goofy undies.”

Mind Mistress cocked an eyebrow.

“I apologize if my undergarb are out of sorts. One of the aspects of Twenty-First Century culture that I have attempted to acclimate myself to are the peculiar rituals and significance that you attach to various garments, particularly undergarments. To cite one peculiar example, the female's triumphant wearing of the male's shirt around the dwelling in the aftermath of coitus, in order to make other occupants of the domicile aware of the recent intercourse the female has experience. It was my understanding that underpants were worn by females of this time period as a form of colorful sexual display, like a peacock displaying its feathers to signal availability for mating. Moreover, underwear in this period is often used to express personal tastes, whether for consumer products, as in the case of Jacky's panties that advertise her favored brand of alcoholic beverage, or for characters and personal heroes, as in the case of Zoe's Jacky-of-All-Trades undershorts. I had a lengthy discussion with the sales clerk at the lingerie shop, which concluded with her shoving this pair into my hands and insisting that she had an urgent call to attend to, though I could detect no such communication. I have chosen this pair because it communicates both my enjoyment of your 'chocolate chip cookies' and my desire to be the recipient of oral sexual intercourse. Is there some aspect of underwear ritual that has eluded me and which my chosen underpants violate?”

The assembled were stunned into silence.

“...No, no I think you pretty much have it,” said Jacky, “Though I guess most women would find exposing their underwear a little embarrassing and would be a lot less frank about their sex drive.”

“Noted. I shall make it my business in the future to be both more humiliated and repressed. Now, where are we?”

“You are powerless in my clutches at last!” the owner of the mysterious voice spun her chair around and leaped up, clearly having waited until the right conversational hook to make her entrance. “At last, I have you, Femme Defenders! Long have I watched you from afar, planning, hoping, scheming! Now my deepest desires will be brought to their dark fruition, for you now stand powerless before the awesome might of...”

She turned around and struck a button, flooding the darkened half of the room with light, then struck a dramatic hands-on-hips, head tilted upward pose.

“The Fangirl!” she announced triumphantly.

Before the Femme Defenders stood the Fangirl. She was about five-foot-six, with pasty, pale white skin that bore trace hints of acne scaring, along with small breakouts on her nose and right cheek. Her greasy brown hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and she wore a pair of Harry Potter glasses over her brown eyes. Not, it should be pointed out, “glasses that looked like the kind Harry Potter wore,” but actual branded Harry Potter glasses. Her form was hidden beneath a pair of baggy brown cargo pants and a ratty black hoody with the Captain Invincible logo on the front. Both the hoody and the pants had a number of red and brown stains from, as far as the assembled heroines could guess, pizza sauce and curry. Despite the evident excess of junk food and paucity of fresh air and exercise in the Fangirl's life, she didn't seem especially rotund; her hoody and cargo pants hung loosely from her frame. On her feet she wore a pair of beat-up black Doc Martens.

The Fangirl looked down and grinned, clearly busting with excitement. “How was that? I've been practicing for weeks!”

“Who are you? What have you done to us? Why would you humiliate us like this?” asked Jacky.

“Speak for yourself!” smirked Velvet Glove, “I know B.B. got an ass full of cactus, you got spanked, I don't know what happened to Zoe, but she seemed pretty shaken up by it-”

“I got zapped by a laser, crushed into a cube, chopped into pieces, squashed into a disc, then melted and spun out of my clothes!” shouted Zoe, trying to be helpful.

“Thanks,” said Velvet Glove, “So, that happened to Zoe, Ditzy over there got gunged, and Brainiac clearly had her smartass ass just completely decimated. And what happened to me?” she dramatically held out her arms, displaying her breasts and lascivious underwear, “I got to show off my, let's be honest, smokin' hot body, but, oh wait, so did all of you! I mean, not the smokin' hot part, other than some of your heineys, obv. Clearly whoever this Fangirl is knows better than to defile a national treasure.”

“Huh? Oh, shit! I forgot to run you through the Wringer!” said the Fangirl, who spun around and began pressing buttons on her console, “Sorry about that, I was really excited and nervous because the Femme Defenders were finally here and I'd just caught my first heroine, so I must have forgotten to hit the button to activate the diverter chute. Well, whatever, I can fix that right now!”

The Fangirl pressed a final button triumphantly.

“Oh, there's no need for THAAAaaaaaaaattt....” said Velvet Glove as a hole opened up beneath her, sending her falling out of sight.

“What did you do to Velvet Glove?!” shouted Jacky. She may not like V.G., but she wasn't about to let a villainess have her way with her.

“Oh, don't worry. She'll be fine,” the Fangirl paused, “Well, she definitely won't die,” another pause, “Well, I certainly don't intend for her to die.”

From the still-open hole in the floor of Velvet Glove's tube they heard the heroine faintly in the distance:

“Ouch! What are you doing?! Get your hands off of me!”

“Now, where were we,” pondered the Fangirl, “Right! My villain monologue! Oh boy, I spent a lot of time working on this, I have it memorized!”

She cleared her throat and placed a hand on her chest then launched into it. As she did, Mind Mistress surreptitiously moved her left index and middle finger to her temple.

“I grew up in a world filled with heroes,” the Fangirl began, “Heroes that inspired, heroes that instructed in how to do right, how to make a difference in a world ruled by chaos. But none of those heroes spoke to me as deeply as the Femme Defenders.”

“Thanks!” said Jacky.

“Of course!” smiled the Fangirl, “Oh, but hold on one sec,” she spun around and pressed a button.

“Aaaaah!” screamed Mind Mistress, falling off her feet and landing on her butt, “YIPE!” She quickly shot back up at the impact on her tender tush.

From Velvet Glove's tube: “How DARE you spank me! My perfect butt is insured by Floyd's of London and I can assure you that you will be hearing from their attorneys! EEP!”

“Sorry about that,” said the Fangirl to Mind Mistress, “Can't have you using that sub-dermal neural implant of yours to hack my system. I may not have been able to get a room set up for you, but I did some research before you arrived. All I need to do is press a button to send an electric jolt through any foreign systems that might be connected to my mainframe. And since your system is physically connected to your brain...”

“Of course,” muttered Mind Mistress, “Well played, madame.”

“Thanks! Anyhow, where was I? Right, the Femme Defenders. In a world filled with macho, chauvinist male heroes, who did I have to look up to? Artemis? A snooty demi-goddess who gives condescending lectures and thinks she's better than everyone because, let's face it, she is. Who can relate to that? Stupendous Girl? One week she's a cheerful innocent, next week she's an angry slut! Nothing to get attached to! But finally, finally I found a set of heroines that looked like me, powerful, yet flawed, with real relationships that had ups and downs. And sometimes... sometimes when I read about the adventures of the Femme Defenders, it felt like I had friends, even when I was all alone...”

“Oh my God, that is so sad and adorable!” shouted Zoe, “I wish I could hug you right now, but, y'know, the glass...”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY HAIR?! WHAT ARE YOU- GET THAT RAZOR AWAY FROM ME!” shouted the distant Velvet Glove.

The Fangirl sniffed, “It really meant a lot to me, following you guys. Well, I mean, some of you guys, which brings me to my point: I used to love the Femme Defenders, but you've just come to suck so much!”

“Hey!” said Jacky.

“I mean, it's not entirely your fault, Jacky,” said the Fangirl, “I still think you're great, very relatable with your lack of powers.”

“I have powers!” said Jacky, “I can do anything! It's my whole deal!”

“Yeah, but...  I mean, cool, you can hang a painting and swim and swing from a vine and fire a gun and whatever, but you can't do anything really well. When people think of heroes, they think of people who are the best there is at what they do, not people who are okay at a whole bunch of things. But that's what's cool about you! You come up with clever solutions and make do with what you've got! It's relatable!”

Jacky crossed her arms. “Why does nobody think I have powers? I don't see people harassing Bronco Buster for not having powers!”

The Fangirl cocked her head inquisitively, “Bronco Buster has powers. Do you not know about them? How could you not know about them?”

“Huh?”

“Not important. What is important is that you guys have been drifting in a terrible direction for years. First you lost Dragon Lady and Ebony Stiletto and Sparrowhawk, who I loved and made you a much more diverse team. You've just been totally white-washed and that's gross.

“HOLY SHIT BEES! WHY ARE THERE SO MANY BEES!” screamed Velvet Glove.

Jacky swallowed. The lack of diversity on the team was a serious problem, and it was a huge blow when her former teammates left to join a team, the Social Justice Warriors, that was explicitly formed as a counterpoint to the “upper-middle-class white-girl feminism” that Jacky was accused of championing.

“It occurs to me,” offered Mind Mistress, “that your concern for diversity is a bit peculiar, given your own extraordinarily pale complexion. Besides, I come from the planet Bolx; that should be more than adequate diversity.”

The Fangirl rolled her eyes, “Aliens don't count, I meant diversity like, from historically underrepresented minorities in the United States. And even if I am white, that doesn't mean I can't appreciate and demand diversity in the people I call my heroes. But it got even worse! You killed off Future Girl!”

“We didn't kill her off!” shouted Zoe, “Doctor Malevolent did! And she's not dead, she just lost her suit!”

“And stopped being a superhero, so, yet another superheroine callously stuffed in the refrigerator. I thought the whole point of the Femme Defenders was to put an end to that bullshit!”

“We're trying!” said Jacky, “Believe me, I would love it if Future Girl was still around.” Mind Mistress cleared her throat. “And Mind Mistress, too, just a big happy family! But life is messy, and death and depowering are a part of the life of a superheroine!”

“They didn't used to be! When I was a kid you beat the bad guys and there wasn't all this drama, just great adventures! I used to read about and watch your adventures and feel inspired and full of energy. Now I just get angry at how terrible and boring they are,” said the Fangirl.

“Y'know what? There was drama back then, too, we just tried harder to hide it, and the press respected our privacy back then. And you know what else? When you were twelve you didn't read the tabloids, you weren't looking to know every detail of our lives at all times like you do now, you just enjoyed the adventures. Has it occurred to you that maybe it's not us that changed, but you? Our adventures don't make you feel like a twelve-year-old any more because you're no longer twelve years old.”

“EWWWWW, WHY IS THIS WATER SO BLACK AND STICKY?!?!” said Velvet Glove.

“Well, maybe...” said the Fangirl, thoughtfully, “Still, you can't deny you guys have been on a pretty continuous downhill slide for years now. I mean, Mind Mistress? Nobody likes a know-it-all!”

“Actually,” interjected Mind Mistress, “Based on the most recent polls, merged and projected onto current demographic data, there are 153,548 people who like a know-it-all. And that's only considering this planet.”

The Fangirl raised her eyebrows and held out her hands, as though saying, “See what I mean?”

“Yeah, I know,” said Jacky, “I mean... I guess things could be going a bit better...”

The Fangirl grinned. “And that's where I come in! I've captured you all so that I can set you back on the right course, get you doing things the way you ought to be doing them.”

“Wait, wait, wait. 'The way we ought to be doing them?' What makes you the expert on how we should live our lives all of a sudden?” said Jacky.

“Oh, I don't know, maybe the hundreds of pieces of fanfiction I've written about you guys! I know you better than you know yourselves! Heck, you didn't even know Bronco Buster had powers, and you're in a relationship with her!”

“What powers does- WAIT, WHAT?!” shouted Jacky.

“You guys are going out? Why didn't you tell me?! That is soooo coooool! Eeeeeeeeeeee...” Zoe began excitedly waving her hands and jumping at the news.

“Well, maybe you're not in an official relationship, yet, but we all know it's coming. We've been talking on the boards about it for years! The way you look at each other, the way you always have each others' backs. You're literally the number one slash pairing on femmefic.com. It's officially fanon. Frankly, all of us in the fan groups are getting sick of the teasing and wish you would just go public with it.

“But... But I'm not... We're not... I'm not even a lesbian!” sputtered Jacky.

“Ha! Called it!” shouted Velvet Glove far below, “OH NO GET AWAY GOOSE! STOP PECKING MY TITS!”

“Oh, please! You can't possibly just be friends! Just look at how natural your relationships looks in the slash fic I wrote, 'Jacky Gets Bronco Busted.'” said the Fangirl.

“I am not reading your porn! Do you know how weird it is to learn that there's a whole community out there writing porn about you and your co-worker? Ee-yuck!” said Jacky.

“Could... could I read it?” whispered Zoe meekly. The Fangirl pressed a button and a sheaf of stapled-together papers fell into Zoe's tube. Zoe stretched her arm to grab it as it fell through the air. Her eyes began scanning back and forth ravenously, until she peeked up and noticed both Jacky and Bronco Buster glaring at her. She smiled nervously and set the papers down in the bottom of her tube.

“And come on, 'not a lesbian,' pffft,” said the Fangirl, “You called your team the Femme Defenders! And Bronco Buster there is clearly the butch one. You're the lady and she's the man.”

“That's not- I mean, that wasn't what I was- And besides, lesbian relationships don't work that way! You're forcing them into a heterosexual narrative!”

“Well, seems like somebody knows an awful lot about lesbian relationships for being 'straight.' Why don't we get Bronco Buster's opinion.”

Jacky whipped her head around to look at Bronco Buster, over-brimming with irritation at this conversation. “B.B.? Come on, tell her,” then Jacky paused, considering, “Actually, I guess I don't know what your orientation is.”

Bronco Buster blushed, pulling her Stetson down to shade her eyes. Ah cain't rightly see as how who ah choose tuh knock boots with, whether fillies er fellers, is anyone's affair 'cept the folks whose boots I happen tuh be knockin'. She stayed silent.

“Honestly, I think you guys are an adorable couple!” said Zoe, beaming, “It'd be sooo fuuuun to have you guys together in the headquarters! Oh my God, you could go on dates! It'd be the cutest!”

“We are not a couple!” Jacky insisted.

“That reminds me, though,” said the Fangirl, “Zoe, you have to break up with Conner.”

“Whaaaaaat?” said Zoe, “But we just started dating two weeks ago!”

“And he's totally wrong for you. You have to get back together with Jimmy.”

“But Jimmy was a jerk! He totally didn't understand my time commitments as a heroine! It would never work!”

“Ugh, why are you wasting our time delaying the inevitable? We all know you're doing to wind up with Jimmy!”

“You do tend to find yourself dating Jimmy a lot,” offered Jacky, glad the conversation had moved on, “maybe it is inevitable...”

Zoe stomped her foot petulantly, “Maybe I will end up with Jimmy and maybe I won't, but I should be allowed to date around!”

“But if it's just going to end badly,” said the Fangirl, “What is even the point of doing it? Everyone knows Jimmy's the one for you, everyone knows you'll wind up with him, so why bother boring everyone with a bunch of relationships that won't go anywhere?”

“Because it's my love life and you do not have veto power over my relationships!!!” screamed Zoe.

“SO... MANY... FEATHERS!” shouted Velvet Glove.

“Whatever,” said the Fangirl, “we'll figure that out later. Now: Flower Power. A couple of months ago you got engaged to Love Bug. That's unacceptable. Marriage makes heroes boring. You're going to have to end the engagement. But stay in a relationship with him! I love your relationship, but I'm worried marriage will ruin your adventures.”

Flower Power, silent until now, had both hands pressed against the glass and was glaring at the Fangirl, her unblinking eyes clouded with hate.

“I will pound your body into paste and mulch you for my garden so that your life essence can be returned to Mother Gaia,” she said in a guttural growl.

“Oh!” said the Fangirl, “I guess you're still upset. Well, I'm sure you'll calm down...”

“That raises an interesting question,” said Mind Mistress, “Why did you feel the need to humiliate us and strip off our costumes?”

“I'm glad you asked!” grinned the Fangirl, “Officially, I wanted to make sure you knew who was boss and were adequately cowed, ready to give in to my demands and see that I was superior to all of you and, thus, realize that I should be put in charge. Unofficially, well, I really wanted to add to my collection, and now I have six completely unique and perfectly displayed collector's items. As for the humiliation, well...” She averted her eyes and blushed a bit, “I mean, a girl has needs, and, given the opportunity, who wouldn't want to see her heroine run through a few of the ideas she's had that made her especially... y'know...”

“Stop! Please!” Jacky held up a hand, using her other hand to cover her eyes, “We all get it.”

“I don't get it! What's she talking about?” said Zoe, urgently wanting to be included.

Jacky rubbed her sinuses, “I'll tell you later.”

“Regardless,” said Mind Mistress, waving a hand dismissively, “You have not mentioned any specific plans or instructions for me.”

“Well, I don't really know you that well,” said the Fangirl, “Honestly, I kinda hate when new characters get introduced, especially when they replace old favorites, so I'd kinda rather get rid of you...”

Mind Mistress's mind raced, which was rather an impressive thing. “Surely there's some useful function I can serve...”

“STOP PUSHING ME! THIS IS A REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE POSITION! WHY IS IT SO HARD TO MOVE!” shouted Velvet Glove.

“Well, actually, I might have a role for you. See, while I have you here, I thought it would be a shame to let you go without first recording live re-enactments of my personal favorite fanfics. I've only got a couple dozen to go through, then you can all go home.”

“Ummmm...” said Zoe, “There wouldn't by any chance be any gen fic among those, would there?”

The Fangirl rolled her eyes, “Ugh, gen fic? Kill yourself. Of course not! Now, let's get started. I'd like to get Mind Mistress killed, so let's start with the one fic I have that features her. It's kind of a big giant crossover fic, like how every Summer it seems like there's some terrible world-destroying catastrophe and all the heroes team up to save the world and suddenly I'm supposed to care what Sea Man is doing because if I don't follow him I won't understand what everyone else is doing. Ugh, so terrible. But this will be much better, because you'll all be having sex with each other!”

The assembled heroines all glanced at each other nervously. It was seeming increasingly likely that they were about to get to know each other a lot more intimately than they had ever imagined.

“Let's get you all ready...”

The Fangirl spun around and pressed another button on her console. The holes above each of the heroines' tubes opened up and a gallon of Cosmoglide personal lubricant poured out, coating each of them from head to toe. A puddle of it pooled in the brim of Bronco Buster's Stetson. The Femme Defenders were now greasy and shiny and covered from head to toe in lube.

The Fangirl continued, “So it's called 'Crisis on Infinite Orgies'. Now, this is non-canon. I can't emphasize that enough; in the universe of my fics this piece does not count, so don't complain to me when we get to 'The Death and Return of Flower Power' that Zoe and Flower Power aren't in a relationship even though they were in Crisis, because Crisis is not canon, and the relationships that happen in it don't happen anywhere else. Is that clear?”

“WHAT ARE YOU PUTTING ON MY HEAD? I CAN'T SEE IT!!” shouted Velvet Glove.

“Um... I... don't even know what to say,” mumbled Jacky.

“I understand!” shouted Zoe enthusiastically, then suddenly looked confused, “wait, I'm going to be in a relationship with Flower Power?”

“Of course! I needed to pair you guys off, and you made the most sense,” replied the Fangirl.

“Buuut, that makes no sense,” replied Zoe.

“Oh, I think it makes perfect sense,” said Mind Mistress, “in fact, I calculate 79% compatibility between the two of you, a strong enough rating to warrant a real-life relationship, I was going to suggest it myself, if the Fangirl didn't.”

“Ha!” shouted the Fangirl.

“Are you kidding?! I mean, no offense, Flower Power, but I was raised Catholic and we don't really believe in her all-one business.”

“Are you Catholic?” asked Mind Mistress slyly, “I thought that in issue #78 of Femme Defenders comic magazine, which chronicled the adventure of November 13th, 2013, it clearly stated that you were agnostic.”

“Wait, no it didn't!” said the Fangirl, “I'm absolutely certain it said she was Anglican.”

“I'm not Anglican, I know what I was raised as!” said Zoe, “And I read that issue, and it definitely said I was Episcopal.”

“They're the same thing!” said the Fangirl, “Ugh, I have the magazine, let me get it and I'll show you.”

The Fangirl stomped down the stairs and across the room to her media shelf, where she proceeded to pull out a long white box filled with bagged-and-boarded comic books. While she did so, Mind Mistress made eye contact with Zoe and gave a subtle wink. Zoe nodded her head, ever-so-slightly. As the Fangirl leafed irritatedly through her comics, Mind Mistress turned her head so that her right side was facing the villain, then slowly and silently raised her left index and middle fingers to her temple.

“Here!” shouted the Fangirl, pulling out a colorful floppy comic, then carefully undoing the tape, removing the comic, and flipping through the pages. “Ah-ha! You said right here, page 12, 'I don't know about those kind of things; my parents raised me to be a good Episcopal girl!'”

“That's what I said! The comic said I was Episcopal! You said Anglican!” said Zoe.

“They're the same thing!”

“Well, whatever, I was right.”

“We were both right!”

“But the actual issue was wrong! They get all kinds of things wrong! I've started making a list!”

“Reeeeally? Like what?” the Fangirl's eyes widened. She could barely contain her excitement at getting inside information.

“Well, in issue #72 I was Elasti-Girl, but they said I was Elasti-Woman.”

“But you can't be either; those names are already taken.”

“Duh! I know! That's why I'm Rubber Girl now.”

“Uhhh, no you're not...”

“What? Of course I am.”

“But Rubber Girl was a heroine in the 40s. Her adventures were in Sensational Police Comics. Her name's trademarked by her family. You can't call yourself Rubber Girl.”

“DARN IT! Grr, I wish I could find a good name for myself...”

“Well, there has to be a rubber-type name that hasn't been taken! Like... Errr....”

“See? There are so many of them!”

“Hold on, I can figure this out... How about... Rubber Maid? You could have, like, a maid theme?”

“I literally just tried that. No good.”

“Hmmm... Well, give me a minute, I can figure this out...”

“I think you might find it more productive to attempt to determine how you are going to get from your present position to the cyber-security activation button in the 3.4 seconds between now and when I complete my infiltration of your systems,” said Mind Mistress. Then the corners of her mouth turned up into a sly smile, “Oops, too late.”

“Containment tubes disengaged,” said a friendly female computer voice.

The transparent aluminum tubes in which they stood slid up to the ceiling, freeing the scantily clad and greasy heroines. They, collectively, grinned at the villainess who had tormented them so.

“Ummm, uhh.... Gosh, I should probably get out of here, huh?” said the Fangirl, holding up her hands and nervously backing away.

“WHAT IS THAT?! YOU HAD BETTER NOT BE PUTTING THAT WHERE I THINK YOU'RE PLANNING TO PUT IT! IT WON'T FIT! NO! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!” shouted Velvet Glove.

The Fangirl turned and bolted. With a quick twirl of her hand Bronco Buster signaled to Zoe. The rubber heroine metamorphosed into a long lasso, which Bronco Buster proceeded to twirl once, twice, thrice over her head, then threw across the room, encircling the escaping villain around the waist and binding her arms to her sides. The cowgirl then roped the Fangirl in.

“Please please please please please don't hurt me! I'm really very sorry! Honestly! Everything I did was done out of love! Seriously!” the Fangirl smiled nervously, surrounded on all sides by the lubed-up heroines.

“The thought occurs, as so many thoughts occur to me, that it may be appropriate to subject this villainess to the sort of humiliations and embarrassments that she was so eager to subject us to,” said Mind Mistress.

“Now, now,” said Jacky, “We're heroines. We're supposed to be better than that. Much as I'd like to, it would be wrong of us to stoop to her level.”

Bronco Buster was moved by the circumstances to break her general vow of silence and add her voice to the group: “If'n this were Tombstone er Deadwood, she'd be strung up an' ah'd be usin' her fer target practice. Cain't say ah necessarily disagree with that line uh thinkin'.”

“I mean,” said Zoe, still binding the Fangirl, “She seems kinda nice. And really, her heart's in the right place...”

“Yes! Zoe's right! Listen to her!” said the Fangirl.

Jacky crossed her arms and smirked as an evil thought occurred to her, “Today's your lucky day, Fangirl. I'm going to let your fate be decided by the most kind, the most generous, the most merciful of the Femme Defenders. The one who's most self-actualized with the oneness and all-love of the universe...”

“Oh no...” said the Fangirl.

“Flower? What do you think?”

The hippie heroine's eyes narrowed. She took a step forward and lunged with her left hand, grabbing the Fangirl around the throat, then lifted her up into the air. Zoe surreptitiously untied herself and returned to her normal form.

“Ack-gkk-grk! This is super-painful! Now I know how the Rebel officer strangled by Darth Vader at the start of New Hope felt!” croaked the Fangirl as she kicked her legs futilely.

"Ugh, just call it Star Wars," said Zoe.

Flower Power grabbed the neck of the Fangirl's hoodie and pulled down, hard, tearing it off of the villainess's body. *RIIIP!* The Fangirl was left in a sweat-stained blue t-shirt with the words “I think you'll find I'm universally recognized as a mature and responsible adult” written in black on the front. Not content, Flower Girl tore the shirt off, as well. *RIIIP!* This left the Fangirl in a white bra with white-and-red cups, designed to resemble Pokéballs.

The Fangirl desperately, and futilely, tried to hide the cups of her bra from sight. Now that her figure was exposed, it was clear that she was just on the pudgy side of skinny, with a slight tummy and a small muffin top spilling over the waist of her pants. Her breasts were a little on the large side, jiggling in the cups of her bra. Clearly, now that she no longer had her traps and contraptions on her side, she was just an ordinary, slightly curvy, woman. No match for one heroine, let alone a team.

The hippie heroine wasn't done, however. She turned her attention downward, gripped the waist of the Fangirl's pants in her right hand, and then ripped them clean off as though they were held together at the sides with velcro. White panties, nothing special, but Jacky, who was positioned behind the Fangirl, snickered.

“Okay,” croaked the Fangirl, “You've humiliated me, I give up. You win! Now just let me go, and-”

The Fangirl's plea for mercy was interrupted by a sharp uppercut to her jaw, which sent her flying straight up-

*CRASH!*

-And into the ceiling above her.

“Ooooouuuuch...”

The Fangirl was now embedded in the roof of her control room, lodged tight up to her waist. Her hands were on the outside of the hole, the fingers opening and closing as though trying to work her way out. Her bare legs kicked frantically, clad only in a pair of rolled-down white socks and black Doc Martens. The other heroines could now see what Jacky was snickering at earlier: On the seat of Fangirl's pants, in black letters, were the words, “WORST. NOVELTY PANTIES. EVER!”

Flower Power blinked, looking around the room as though she had just woken from a trance. She put a hand to her head, closed her eyes, then opened them again, her customary blissful smile back in place.

“Whoah, I feel like I just had a major bad head trip. But now all the negative energy and bad vibrations have just flowed out of me and I feel at peace with the all-one once again.”

“I think I know where all that negative energy went...” mumbled the Fangirl from above in a pained voice.

“Well,” said Jacky, taking command again, “That settles that. Now, let's get out of here. We need to get our costumes and inform the press and the police. We'll hold a press conference up top, that way they can get a nice look at the warehouse where we found the lair. Now, remember: Nobody mentions the strippings or... other things. Especially not to the comic book people. That goes double for you, Zoe!”

“Awwww, but I hate how they always get things wrong...” said Zoe.

“And speaking of hiding our shame, let's get our costumes back on.”

“You'll never get my collectibles!” shouted the Fangirl's muffled voice, “I have the greatest security system in the world!”

“As always,” smirked Mind Mistress, fingers on her temple, “I am light-years ahead of you. I have already contacted the press and the local authorities. They will be here within fifteen minutes. In the meantime, the system protecting our costumes is, indeed, quite elaborate, and I have had to penetrate several layers of firewalls to arrive at its controls, but I am 87% certain that I have discovered the function that will return our uniforms to us. Just one moment...”

The calm computer voice returned: “Costume jettison selected. Evidence will now be destroyed to complicate prosecution. Have a nice day.”

Before the wide eyes of the Femme Defenders, a set of holes opened up under their costumes, in which nasty interlocking circular blades whirred to life. Their costumes dropped in and were shredded instantly. As a final touch of humor, the remnants of the costumes were then pumped through a pneumatic tube and showered on the heroines like colorful latex confetti.

Everyone glared at Mind Mistress. For once, she looked abashed and smiled sheepishly.

“Well, when you're right 87% of the time, you're wrong 13% of the time...” she shrugged.

“Congratulations, Mind Mistress,” said Jacky, “you just volunteered to give the press conference while the rest of us head home. Be sure to include a detailed explanation of the thought process behind your undies, I think they'll get a kick out of it.”

The green on Mind Mistress's cheeks slowly turned a pale red.

“Hey!” said Zoe, “What about V.G.? Where is she?”

“Oh, you're right!” said Jacky. She rushed up the steps and studied the master control console. One upshot of her all-encompassing competence was that she had a knack for understanding any computer system at a glance. She quickly determined the right sequence of buttons to return the Velvet Glove from The Wringer.

A panel slid open in the floor. A moment later, the Velvet Glove emerged.

“Mmmmph! Mmmmph!” She mumbled, but her mouth was rather thoroughly stuffed. It took everyone a few moments to take in the sight before them.

To start with, Velvet Glove was on her knees, leaning forward with her weight supported by her crossed forearms, still clad in her velvet gloves. Her ass was thrust, high and proud, into the air, her head was tilted upward as though looking up at someone. Ordinarily she would have immediately gotten out of this rather undignified pose, but at present she was coated, head to toe, in tar. Only her glaring green eyes were left uncovered. A specially formulated extra-viscous tar that even her enormous strength was powerless to move. Embedded in the tar was a layer of feathers, patchy and very clearly goose down. Velvet Glove's jet-black locks were gone, her head had been shaved entirely bald. Atop her head had been glued a cheap pink plastic tiara, on which the word “Slut” was written in silver sequined script. In her mouth was stuffed a large horseradish root, complete with a pair of bulbous nobs at the end. Her rear end was notably swollen, and even through the tar the heroines could make out a large number of bee stingers embedded in her flesh. Finally, a white flag of surrender had been conspicuously inserted into a rather uncomfortable place, though Jacky harbored some suspicions that having a large, tubular object inserted into that particular hole was an experience not entirely unfamiliar to the haughty heroine. The entire tableau was presented on a dais, on which was placed a brass plaque, which read “Portrait of the Heroine as a Young Slut.”

Mind Mistress walked over and inspected the tar, then tutted.

“Mmmph?” said Velvet Glove.

“I'm afraid this formulation is unknown to me. I'll need at least a day to devise a solvent...” said Mind Mistress.

“Mmmph!” said Velvet Glove.

“Three days if you want a solvent that won't take several layers of skin off with it.”

“MMMMPH!”

“So demanding! We have a saying on my home planet, Bolx: Beggars can't be choosers.”

“But how will she eat? What will she drink?”

“We can drill a hole through that horseradish!” offered Jacky, “I'm sure V.G.'s had quite a bit of practice sucking protein from a tube.”

“Mmmmmmmmmph!” Whatever cutting remark Velvet Glove was offering was rendered incomprehensible thanks to the large root in her mouth. She did, however, glare sideways at Jacky.

“At least you can console yourself that you should be unrecognizable in your present state,” smirked Jacky.

The assembled heroines nodded. Then Zoe spoke up.

“Actually... Everyone will know who she is. She's still wearing her trademark gloves.”

The heroines laughed as Velvet Glove groaned.

“Alright,” said Jacky, “let's clear out of here. Flower, do you think you can carry V.G.?”

Flower Power smiled serenely. “Of course! It will give me an opportunity to have a one-on-one consciousness raising session with Velvet Glove that I've meant to have for ages!”

Another groan from Velvet Glove.

Flower Power grabbed the tarred-and-feathered heroine and hoisted her effortlessly up onto her right shoulder. She began chatting away as she walked toward the exit in the corner of the room.

“The first thing you need to know about the all-one is that it's an integral element of the moral A-B-Cs that have guided all the greatest philosophers in life, but is only now being understood as we unlock the healing powers of crystals, and not just healing our bodies, but more importantly our minds and our souls. You see...”

“MMMMMMMMMMPPPH!” groaned Velvet Glove.

“Bronc, rassle up that varmint and lets get out of here.”

Bronco Buster nodded, flashing Jacky a smile, then turned to Zoe. Zoe prepared to turn into a lasso again. Then she stopped.

“Oh!” shouted Zoe.

Everyone turned to look inquiringly at the youngest among them.

“Was Fangirl talking about masturbating earlier?”

***

That night...

Zoe stepped out of her room and pranced down the hallway, dressed in a green sundress and black heels. She was off for a date with Conner. To tell the truth she had been getting a little bored with him, but she certainly wasn't going to let that crazy fangirl dictate her love life. Although... She did have really good taste in collectibles. Zoe still wished that she could have snuck out that Death of Captain Amazing figure, but the police needed it as evidence and stealing wouldn't have been heroic.

Regardless, Zoe was going to have a great time tonight. Maybe she could ask Conner if he had any ideas for a good rubber heroine name...

“Hello, Zoe, off to indulge in your Twenty-First Century mate selection rituals?” asked Mind Mistress, who was walking in the opposite direction.

“Yep! Going out to see 'Captain Amazing vs. Silent Stiletto!'”

“Oh. As I recall from the historical film review aggregation files, that wasn't a very good one. My condolences.”

“Well, the movie isn't entirely the point.”

“Ah, I see. Well, given that dress and taking into account the time you've spent with him, I project a 63% probability that your evening will end in coitus.”

“Th-thanks,” Zoe said, blushing as she hurried past.

Mind Mistress continued down the corridor, then entered the door to Velvet Glove's room. She was staying in her disused quarters at the base until she could get back into presentable shape.

“I have prepared the hair tonic you requested. It should be effective, but I warn you-”

“About time, Miss Cookiepuss!” snapped Velvet Glove. She was smooth and naked, the result of the solvent Mind Mistress had doused her in earlier. The estimates Mind Mistress had offered in the Fangirl's control room were intended as a joke, a little levity at Velvet Glove's expense. Typically, Velvet Glove had failed to comprehend the humor.

“I must warn you-” started Mind Mistress. Before she could speak, Velvet Glove snatched the bottle and began pouring it out onto her head, then rubbing it in.

Immediately, sprouts of hair began to appear on Velvet Glove's bald dome... Purple hair. A few seconds later- *POOF!* the hair shot out into a perfectly round three-foot-diameter puff.

“I was going to say,” continued Mind Mistress, “that it's formulated for Bolxanite biology and may have less than desirable effects on humans. Also, you shouldn't touch it with your hands.”

As she said this, more purple hairs burst forth on Velvet Glove's hands, making them look like purple werewolf paws.

“Well done, genius! Another triumph!” V.G. stood up and wrapped a towel around herself, then flounced out of the room.

“Where are you going?” called Mind Mistress, “I need some hair samples to modify the formula!”

“I'm going to shave! Nothing better to do in this ghost town anyway... UGH! Three dates canceled tonight alone!”

Velvet Glove tromped down the hallway past Flower Power who was, again, wandering around naked. Flower looked quite a bit more serene now that she'd had the opportunity to expel her aggression.

“Put some fuckin' clothes on!” shouted Velvet Glove.

“I'm communing with my natural self, and I find that fibers interfere with my attempts at oneness with the-”

“Don't care! Already gone!” Velvet Glove yelled from the bathroom.

Flower Power continued to wander, feeling her rainbow-colored soul-essence radiate around her, merging and melding with the aura of the base, so filled with the many colors of the collected soul-essences of her teammates. She spotted a familiar yellow glow coming around the corner, and smiled.

“Hello, Bronco. Aren't you just filled to brimming with the love of the all-one tonight?” Flower Power gushed.

“Evenin', ma'am!” said Bronco Buster with a little smile, “'reckon so.”

Bronco Buster strolled down the corridor, whistling tunelessly. In her right hand she held a bottle of Rittenhouse 100 Proof Barreled-in-Bond Rye Whiskey. In her left hand, a pair of Old Fashioned glasses. She arrived at her destination: Jacky's door. She knocked. The door opened. She held up the whiskey and glasses, then clinked the glasses together.

“'Taint exactly Jack Daniel's, but...”

“Just get in here.”

A pair of hands reached out and grabbed Bronco Buster by the collar, then dragged the smiling cowgirl into the room.