Femme Defenders: Velvet Glove vs. The Penetrator
by Amy “NoComeupance” Ziegfeld
Author’s note: This is it! A DBC-exclusive story, too hot for DA! If you’ve been avoiding my stories due to lack of sex, well, this is the story to not avoid! *finger guns*
This story was inspired by the writing on this site, in particular that of Violator, without whose work it absolutely would not have happened. I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies in the penis department; I am more or less entirely unfamiliar with the mechanics of heterosexual sex, but I hope this story will be pleasing to both penis-havers and penis-fans, nonetheless.
This story starts and ends with Continuity Nonsense for my Femme Defenders stories; if you don’t care about such things, feel free to skip to the second set of triple asterisks, then stop reading once the action leaves Beaver College. If, on the other hand, you do enjoy the Continuity Nonsense, but don’t care to read up on my previous FD stories, skip to the end, where I’ve placed a quick dramatis personae to get you up to speed.
As always, all characters are entirely original or, when stolen, have at least had the serial numbers filed off.
“This isn’t fair!” Velvet Glove shouted, stamping her foot for emphasis. It proved a highly effective exclamation point; the walls of the Femme Defenders’ headquarters shook, just a bit, at the impact.
“It is exactly fair,” Jacky-of-All-Trades replied, subconsciously reaching up to feel the prickly, recently-shaved right side of her head. With Artemis now in charge of the team she felt a bit more relaxed. She didn’t have the pressure of being the public face of the Femme Defenders any longer, which allowed her the luxury to be less of a “role model” and more of herself. That meant she could finally do some things she’d always wanted to do, like have the least-surprising coming out party in all of superherodom, and get a sidecut. And all it cost her were her dreams of success and personal fulfillment!
“How is it fair that I never get to handle the sex villains?” Velvet said.
“It’s fair,” Jacky sighed, “because Bronco Buster is our designated Sex Villain Specialist. She’s been trained, she’s experienced, she has the skillset and she passed the Justice Squad’s psych eval.”
“This is naked favoritism because you’re sleeping with Bronco Buster!” Velvet said. She couldn’t help smiling slightly, though, at her accidental double entendre. Naked favoritism, heh, she thought.
Jacky gave Velvet her best “Are you fucking kidding me?” look. “You think that, because Bronco and I are in a relationship, I therefore put her top-of-the-list to get deep-fucked by monster-cocked supervillains? Do you know how relationships work?”
“Well, whatever. I still don’t see why I can’t take one down. What if something happened to Bronco? We’d need somebody else to take her place.”
Jackie gulped. “Something happening” to Bronco wasn’t exactly a pleasant thought, particularly where sex villains were concerned, but it was one she’d had to deal with a lot as the former leader, now deputy leader, of the Femme Defenders. Still, part of the job, push through it.
“That is an excellent idea-”
“Thanks! Now-”
“-And just as soon as you go through the formal certification process with the Squad, we can get you designated as our official sex villain alternate.”
“But Jaaaackkkyyyyyy, that’ll take months and I hate talking to psychiatrists! Besides, I don’t need to be certified, everyone knows I’m great at sex.”
“And I’m sure you can provide a list of references a mile long,” Jacky smirked.
“Exactly! I know that was intended as an insult, but seriously, I’ve probably got a thousand satisfied customers you could interview if you want to see my qualifications!”
Jacky paused. Velvet wasn’t entirely wrong; she had that rare combination of sexual prowess and ability to dissociate sex from emotional attachment that made for an excellent sex villain specialist. Still, there was that X factor she didn’t feel comfortable discussing…
“No,” Jacky decided, “Bronco’s on assignment out of the country. She’ll be back this evening and, hopefully, she’ll be up to handling this then. I’ll get on the Squad network and let them know we’re not able to handle it for a few hours and, if anyone else can get a sex specialist in faster, the door’s open.”
“That’s bullshit,” Velvet said, “I can totally handle this right now.”
“Why are you even bothering me with this? Why don’t you just call up Artemis?” Jacky had hoped, with Artemis taking the Femme Defenders from her, that it would mean the end of these power struggles with Velvet.
“Oh, like Little Miss Justice Squad is gonna let me bypass protocol. Besides…” Velvet looked away in a rare display of embarrassment, “...Artemis doesn’t like me.”
“You’re kidding. Artemis likes everyone! Well, every woman.”
“We didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye when I was on the Squad…”
The side of Jacky’s lip curled up, almost imperceptibly. She’d have to bring this up with Artemis at their next weekly debriefing.
“Anyhow,” Jacky said, “you can’t, and that’s final. Now, if that’s everything?”
“Hmmmph.”
Jacky held her head high and strolled down the corridor to her chambers, ignoring Velvet’s flounce in the opposite direction. That seemed to go well…
***
“Pardon me, I couldn’t help overhearing…” Velvet’s tantrum was interrupted by the imperious, emotionless tones of Mind Mistress’s voice.
“What is it, brainy?” Velvet rolled her eyes. She was not in the mood for a round of Val’s look-at-how-much-smarter-I-am-than-you insults.
“It’s just that I think I may have a solution to your problem. If you’d like, I could give you the information on that villain you were interested in confronting. I could even belay Jacky’s message to the Squad network and keep any other heroines from intervening.”
“Really?” Velvet cocked an eyebrow.
“Indeed, it would be trivially easy. My mental implant lets me access any of your primitive 21st Century networks with ease. I’m constantly monitoring electronic traffic in and out of the Femme Defenders’ network. It might amuse you to know that Zoe has rather strong feelings on the subject of ‘shipping’ you with the Amber Torch and Bronco Buster has set all of her passwords to ‘password,’ which is just as well because she never uses computers, anyway. But that is beside the point. I could tell you where this villain is and you could defeat him yourself and demonstrate to Jacky, the other Defenders, and the Squad how worthy you are of being a Sex Villain Specialist.”
Velvet liked the sound of that. But something seemed off. Her brow furrowed.
“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?”
A gnomic smile spread across Val’s face.
“Let’s just say, I’d like to satisfy my scientific curiosity about something.”
***
A crowd had gathered outside Susan B. Anthony Hall at Sarah Beaver College. An idyllic campus nestled in New York’s Hudson Valley, Sarah Beaver had been one of the oldest women’s colleges in the country before it finally succumbed to societal and economic pressure and began admitting men five years earlier. The student body was still about seventy percent female, but the thirty percent that was male generally knew their place: they were guests in a safe space with an obligation to listen and believe when their lady classmates were speaking.
Or they had known their place, until this semester. A small group of students had chartered the Male Students Union. The MSU had the audacity to demand access to the college’s public spaces, to funding, and to speak and recruit out in the open, even though it was well understood that student groups at Beaver were intended to be women-directed and women-focused, in order to correct historical societal imbalances. And what was worse, the college’s Neo-Liberal White Feminist board of directors had interceded on the MSU’s behalf and refused to disband the group and expel all the students involved with it. The MSU’s place at Beaver was secure, at least until the Student Pan-Themysciran Alliance’s discrimination suit against Beaver’s board could wind its way through the federal courts.
And now the MSU was getting even more aggressive, as men inevitably did when given the slightest quantum of power! Their numbers were swelling, encompassing a significant portion of Beaver’s male population, and even some of the women (albeit, of course, just the “cool girls” suffering from false consciousness who had not yet been sufficiently educated on the true nature of patriarchy). The growth in influence of the MSU was tearing the campus apart even more than the debate, eight years prior, on whether soy should be removed from the cafeteria menu, on grounds that its inclusion was ableist against students with soy allergies, or whether the calls to remove soy were, themselves, a misogynist plot, due to the high phyto-estrogen content in soy products.
This evening, though, the MSU situation had come to a boiling point. They had invited Rooster “Cock” Jeffries, aka “The Penetrator,” to speak on campus. Jeffries was a famed pick-up artist and had forged a successful career selling how-to manuals, teaching seminars, and giving lectures on pick-up artist techniques to eager young men. That someone who preached the hateful gospel of pick-up artistry would be invited with open arms to speak at Beaver College, in Susan B. Anthony Hall, of all places, was more than could be borne.
The women of Beaver College had done all they could to keep him out, petitioning the student council, threatening the school board with more legal action, organizing protest rallies. They had even tried to have Jeffries arrested. He had arrived on campus the night before and attended a frat party held in his honor, where, based on the intrepid investigation of journalism student Margaret P. Jones, he had had sex with at least a dozen women right there in the frat house. It was inconceivable that any of those women would voluntarily surrender to his charms, so the only possible explanation was sexual assault. And yet, none of the victims were willing to come forward and confirm the allegations. The police, bound as they were by New York’s patriarchal sexual assault laws, refused to arrest Jeffries.
Two large crowds had gathered outside Susan B. Anthony Hall, one comprising angry feminist women (and a few men) demanding Jeffries be denied a platform for his hatred, while the other, comprising the MSU men (and a few women) demanding he be allowed to exercise his right to free speech. Jeffries’ lecture had started about forty-five minutes earlier and, by the looks of it, the feminists’ angry placards and clever chants had not persuaded him to change his ways. The demoralized feminists, fairly certain that all their work trying to remove Jeffries had been for naught, were grumbling and milling about, getting ready to disperse. The MSU students, on the other hand, were quite pleased with the outcome of the evening, even if they hadn’t, themselves, gotten to see the lecture. They were now amusing themselves by hurling occasional taunts in the direction of the feminists.
The mood was about to shift tectonically. A purple escalade drove up the service road leading to Susan B. Anthony then, when it ran out of road, jumped the curb and drove through the parting crowd of students, pulling to a stop right in front of the hall. The back door opened and Velvet Glove emerged, one long, nearly-bare leg after the other. She struck a heroic pose as she stood up, arms akimbo, fists balled at her hips, her emerald-green eyes gazing stoically off into the distance, her black hair falling in perfectly-coiffed waves around her shoulders, chin up, cape billowing behind her in the evening breeze. Velvet was built like a lingerie model, waif-thin, long, skinny legs, arms free of even an ounce of fat, but with a pleasantly round butt and a pair of perfect, teardrop-shaped, double-D cup breasts.
Ordinarily Velvet would have wanted to debut a new costume for the occasion, but she hadn’t had time to order one on such short notice. As such, she made the painful decision to revive an old costume of hers from her Justice Squad days: A long-sleeved purple bellyshirt with deep cleavage and gold trim, purple hotpants with her interlocking VG logo on the front-left side, her signature purple opera-length gloves, thigh high stiletto-heeled boots, and a purple domino mask. She always hated to go back to an old costume, but she figured that this outfit seemed best suited to the evening’s activities.
A cheer went up from the crowd at the heroine’s arrival, including from a few of the women on the MSU side. Then arguments swiftly broke out within the ranks of the feminist students.
“OH MY GOD, VELVET! YOU’RE MY FAVE!”
“Well, your ‘fave’ is deeply problematic!”
“No! Velvet is a perfect cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure!”
“Velvet Glove represents adherence to and reinforcement of the patriarchy’s demeaning beauty standards, and the requirement that, to be acceptable, a woman must self-objectify for the pleasure of a presumed male audience! She’s the walking male gaze!”
“Velvet Glove represents empowered control of her self-image and the ability to choose one’s own self-image! Besides, her reclamation of admittedly patriarchal beauty aesthetics is clearly intended as a commentary on bell hooks’ admonishment that one cannot dismantle the master’s house with the master’s tools!”
“Your feminism is insufficiently intersectional and it is bullshit!”
Margaret P. Jones emerged from the crowd and ran up to Velvet Glove.
“Thank goddess you came!” Margaret said, “He’s speaking in there right now, it’s not too late to catch him!”
“Excuse me,” a handsome, well-toned blond man by the name of Trevor Thorndick muscled his way out of the MSU crowd. Trevor was the MSU’s rep on the student council and president of his Fraternity, Pi Kappa Delta. He smiled winningly as he swaggered up to the violet-clad vixen, “But there’s nothing you need to catch the Penetrator for.”
“AGH!” Margaret, who was president of the Beaver College chapter of the Pan-Themysciran Alliance, the nation’s most prominent inter-collegiate student feminist organization, covered her ears melodramatically at Trevor’s words, “Just saying his name is a hate-crime!”
“Like I was saying, the Penetrator,” Trevor looked at Margaret with a smirk and emphasized Jeffries’ name as he spoke, “hasn’t done anything wrong. Yeah, he boned a lot of ladies last night, but every single one of them was begging him for it!”
“Consent doesn’t count unless it’s enthusiastic, throughout the entire act!” Margaret shouted.
“Believe me, they were enthusiastically consenting before, during, and after,” Trevor said with a shit-eating grin, “The only ladies who left unsatisfied last night were the ones who wanted a second ride, and that’s just because he was too generous about spreading his love to allow anyone hop on twice.”
“Then he must have drugged them! Or used some sort of supervillain mind control! Women don’t just have sex with… with… with assholes like that!”
“Calm down, you two!” Velvet interrupted. She adopted her most thoughtful pose, cupping her right elbow in her left hand while stroking her chin with her right hand. She hoped it might help cover the fact that she hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation at all, having been distracted for the last couple of minutes trying to make out the exact contours of Trevor’s abs and pecs through his tight polo shirt. “What I’m hearing is that there’s some sort of dispute about ‘the Penetrator.’”
“THAT NAME!” Margaret winced, “IT’S JUST SO TRIGGERING!”
“And that I should conduct a very thorough investigation,” Velvet continued.
“You don’t need to investigate anything! Just… just…” Margaret clenched her fists and shut her eyes, her rage boiling over, “Just rip his fucking dick off!”
“Whoah, whoah!” said Trevor, raising his hands in faux-surrender, “Now which one of us is using ‘violent, eliminationist rhetoric,’ huh?”
“Kids, kids…” Velvet smiled and put a hand on each of their shoulders, “I really don’t care. He’s just in there, right?”
The pair nodded. Velvet span around and sashayed up the steps to Susan B. Anthony Hall, her cape billowing in the wind behind her.
“Now we’re going to see some real social justice!” sneered Margaret, “Velvet’s going to arrest your little hero, and we’re going to use that strike against you to dismantle the MSU!”
“Please!” smirked Trevor, “Velvet Glove, like every lady who’s ever met the Penetrator,” the name caused Margaret to wince again, “is going to be left begging for more.”
“Well, I say Jeffries is going to jail, and after Velvet’s done with him he’s never going to rape another woman ever again!”
“Care to bet on it?” Trevor smiled.
“What?”
“I’ll bet that the Penetrator leaves here tonight a free man. If I win... “ he winked, “you give me a congratulatory blowjob.”
Margaret had been pushed beyond the breaking point.
“FINE! And if I win, you… You… You worship my cunt like the goddess I am!”
“Deal!” Trevor smiled, holding out a sinewy hand…
Margaret was loath to touch the slimy frat boy, but felt a strange, unfamiliar tingle as she gripped his hand. A not entirely unpleasant feeling of being within the power of someone much stronger, more dominant than her…
***
“Guys, if you’ve been paying attention tonight, I’ve given you all the tools you need to up your direct game, your indirect game, and separate yourself from the herd of AFCs. When you came in here, you were a bunch of betas. Now… you’re still betas, let’s be real, but betas with a slight clue, more than enough to out-compete the rest of the omegas on this campus who didn’t come here tonight.”
Rooster Jeffries was getting ready to wrap up his lecture, which was, essentially, an hour-long sales pitch for his website, pamphlets, books, and other merchandise. He spoke with a confidence and aura of cool that stood in sharp contrast to his appearance: A slightly doughy man in his mid-thirties with sandy brown hair. He wasn’t un-handsome, but between his lacking physique and slightly nerdy vibe he really didn’t seem like the kind of guy who should be getting as many or as attractive women as what he evidently got. His words were met with enthusiastic applause from the almost entirely male audience.
“But let’s be real, if you want any chance at landing true tens, you’ll need a lot more help. Now, we’ve only had time for a brief overview. We’ve gone over approaches and openings, negging, kino, and escalation. If you want to get the full story on any of these, you have to, have to, have to subscribe to my site. We’ve got full subject lectures, books, practice techniques, everything you need to up your alpha. But before I go, there’s one last subject I want to cover: techniques for overcoming last minute resistance.”
“Stop right there!” Shouted Velvet Glove dramatically from the rear entrance to the auditorium, “That’s more than enough out of you, Jeffries! Or should I say… The Penetrator!”
Velvet pointed a long, gloved finger at Jeffries, her other arm akimbo, her hand planted on her hip. The crowd turned to look at her; she was quite pleased to once again be the center of attention.
“You should say that,” Jeffries said, running a hand through his sandy-brown hair, “because that’s my name.”
“Oh,” Velvet bit her lower lip. She probably should have thought of a better entrance line. Still, she could still save some face, “The only last minute resistance happening tonight will be your last minute resistance… to going to jail!”
“For what?” Jeffries grinned, “leaving those ladies satisfied and begging for more?”
“You know what you did!” Velvet replied. She didn’t actually know, or care, what Jeffries had done the night before; she was sent here because the Iron Maiden had disappeared a week ago, after pursuing a villain calling himself the Penetrator. Iron Maiden, in turn, had been investigating the mysterious disappearance of Night Huntress. A sequence of superheroines disappearing, coupled with copious bodily fluid traces left at the sites of the disappearances, had all the hallmarks of a sex villain. That’s where Velvet, would-be sex villain specialist, came in. This could, theoretically, be a dead end; Jeffries’ nickname could just be a coincidence. But what they’d recovered of Iron Maiden’s notes indicated she’d suspected the involvement of someone in the PUA community.
Velvet did her best runway walk down the center aisle of the auditorium, hips wriggling, breasts bouncing, each stilettoed foot placed slightly to the inside of the other as she strutted in order to maximize the delicious movement of her curves. For all that Jeffries had just commanded the attention of this audience for nearly an hour, every eyeball in the place was now firmly planted on some aspect of Velvet’s anatomy as she made her way to the stage.
“Guys, I’ve got great news for you; you’re about to get a live demonstration. You’re about to see a Grand Master PUA land a ten.”
Velvet reached the front of the auditorium. She considered just hopping up, an easy trick with her super-strong legs, but decided she’d rather put on a show for all the horny losers in the audience. She stretched one leg out and placed her ankle on the stage, giving a nice look at her long, luscious legs. Then she hopped up so her butt and leg were flat on the stage, her other leg dangling below. Then she brought the leg up and rolled over onto her stomach. From there, she pushed up with her arms, arching her back and squeezing her arms together to emphasize her tits, then pushed her body backwards, thrusting her hotpants-clad ass into the air as she did. She pushed off the ground and transitioned to kneeling, with back arched. Then she flipped her feet up into a squat and shifted around so her spread legs showed off her purple-clad crotch to the audience. Then she leaned forward as she straightened her legs so that her tits dangled tantalizingly in front of the audience, her butt perfectly rounded behind her. From there she straightened her back into a standing position. She put her hands on her hip and adopted a contrapposto pose, finishing off the maneuver with a sly wink and a sexy smile to the audience.
After that performance, she thought to herself, I’ll bet there’s not a soft cock in this entire room. Except maybe the ones that already creamed their shorts.
“I spoke to soon,” Jeffries said, smirking, “She’s actually more of a seven-and-a-half, eight on a good day.”
“What?!” Velvet shrieked, but quickly composed herself, “How on EARTH am I anything but a perfect ten?!”
“I dunno, seems like you could stand to get a few hot meals under your belt,” he said, eyeing her practically-nonexistent tummy. Velvet looked down, suddenly self-conscious about the abs she had gone to so much trouble to show off.
“And your eyes,” he continued, “They look great, but they pop just a little too much; you’ve gotta be wearing contacts.”
As it happened, Velvet was wearing contacts, though not eye color-changing ones. She looked up at him, gritting her teeth, then stomped across the stage until she was right in his face.
“I’ll show you!” she snarled, “These are my real eyes, and-”
“I do have to say, though…” Jeffries interrupted, reaching up to run his hand briefly through her hair, just above the ear “Those are some great extensions you’re wearing. They really look like your actual hair!”
“I do NOT wear extensions!” Velvet screeched. Well, I’m not wearing them right now, she mentally added.
“Aww, you’re kinda cute when you get mad. It distracts from your turned-up piggy nose.”
Velvet came very close, at that moment, to reaching out and crushing his head to the size of a ping-pong ball. But something stopped her. Somehow, it felt oddly like she wanted to convince him that he was wrong, that she was a perfect 10. Weirdly, she felt almost like she needed the approval of the man she had come here to arrest.
“Buddy,” Velvet said through gritted teeth, “I’m Velvet Glove. I am worth a billion dollars. I am the wealthiest superheroine on the planet. I have a smoking hot bod. I’ve made the cover of Dude Mag’s Most Bangable SuperBabes issue three years in a row! And I’m the world’s strongest woman to boot! Why in the name of Paris Hilton’s non-existent underwear would I care about the approval of some pick-up artist loser?”
“I dunno,” Jeffries grinned, reaching out to brush Velvet’s cheek, “why are you seeking my approval?”
That got a laugh from the audience and a look of shock from Velvet. He was right! She was the hottest woman on the continent and he had her chasing his approval!
She shook her head, as though physically clearing the fog of insecurities that now enwreathed it. She was Velvet Glove, damnit, and there wasn’t a human being alive she didn’t look down on!
“Cut the crap, Penetrator, I know this is all a game. Maybe you raped someone last night, maybe you didn’t. Frankly, it doesn’t matter. I happen to know you’ve got Iron Maiden and Night Huntress holed up in your… seduction layer, after you did God-knows-what to them!”
Jeffries threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter.
“So, you’ve caught me. Well done. You figured out the secret identity that I trademarked and slapped all over my website. And the only thing I did to those super bimbos is what I’m about to do to you.”
“FINALLY!” Velvet exclaimed. In one quick motion, she reached up and grabbed her top and whipped it off over her head, then tossed it, along with her cape, heedlessly aside. She had practiced this maneuver in the car on the ride up here, carefully placing her sleeves outside her gloves to prevent anything from catching. She now stood, beaming, tits on full display, in just boots, gloves, hot pants, and domino mask.
“I- wait, what?” Jeffries stuttered, for the first time ever thrown off his game by something a woman had said to him.
“You took for-fucking-ever with the talking and the PUA Negging crap. You’re not bad, though, you had me doubting myself, that’s pretty special, as far as villains go,” the purple-clad pummeler rubbed her hands together and eyed Jeffries’ crotch hungrily, “Enough with the warm-up, though, let’s get to the main event!”
“Well, but, I have kind of an order I do this in…” he mumbled, “I’m not really ready yet…”
“Here, let me get you ready.”
With that, Velvet reached out and grasped Jeffries tightly around the belt, being careful to wrap her fingers around as much cloth as she could, so that shirt, pants, and underwear were all held within her grasp. Then Velvet executed a maneuver she had performed on many a paramour at the commencement of an evening’s entertainment: She placed her other hand, gently, around Jeffries’ neck to steady him, then whipped the gripping hand back violently, instantly rendering the PUA guru nude but for his shoes and socks.
Velvet Glove looked down. The eager, hungry expression on her face melted into profound disappointment.
“AWWWWW!” she moaned petulantly, “I thought you’d be big! … And hard…”
The audience snickered. Naked, Jeffries presented a less-than-impressive sight. He wasn’t fat, but he certainly had a soft physique, and his penis wasn’t small, but it was profoundly average. And limp. Velvet released his neck and he took a step back, his cheeks glowing red.
“I’m- I just-” Jeffries paused, composing himself as best he could, under the circumstances. Then the malevolent grin returned to his face, “You see, Velvet, I’m a grower, not a shower!”
Jeffries took a step over to the podium and grabbed a small flask. He unstoppered the flask, then took a big swig. This was the source of his power, the marvel of chemistry that had turned him from average frustrated chump to sex god overnight.
Velvet crossed her arms and looked unimpressed.
“The last thing that’s gonna help you now is whiskey dick.”
Her snark proved premature, however, as a violent change wracked Jeffries’ body. He threw his head back and screamed as his muscles bulged, his fat practically disappeared, his bones shifted and lengthened. In thirty seconds he grew from five-foot-seven to six-foot-six, and by the time the changes were done he was a seven-foot-two god. Not a scrap of fat was visible on his body. His luxurious hair fell in a soft wave around his neck. His pectorals pulsated as he glanced knowingly down into Velvet’s now-wide eyes. Her gaze and jaw crept downward as she took him in. His lats, his delts, his glutes, the belt of adonis, leading to-
“HOLY SHIT THAT’S THE BIGGEST COCK I’VE EVER SEEN!”
Dangling down between his thighs was a perfectly-formed thirteen-inch penis, the most beautiful prick Velvet had ever laid eyes on, and she had laid eyes on quite a few. It lay nestled between a scrotum that played host to a pair of orange-sized testicles. Velvet began to subconsciously salivate, but then forced herself to keep her composition. She shut her mouth and tried her hardest to look unimpressed. It wasn’t very convincing.
“It’s a pretty nice cock,” she said crossing her arms and trying to look as nonchalant as she could manage, “too bad it’s all soft…”
Jeffries, now truly the Penetrator, couldn’t help looking a bit flustered.
“Well, we just got started! I’m not usually naked this quick; I wasn’t ready,” the Penetrator said.
“Ugh!” Velvet said, throwing up her hands, “My first sex villain and I get the one with ED! Couldn’t you put some Cialis in your little…” she waved her hand dismissively, “hunk-out potion?”
“There’s usually a fight first,” the Penetrator recovered, a self-confident grin plastered on his face, “dominating a bitch physically gets me in the mood to dominate her sexually.”
He took a menacing step forward, his hands clenched into fists. Velvet looked amused.
“Oh wow, haha, is this like a ‘thing’ for you?” Velvet said, “Do you need me to, I dunno, get down on my knees and beg for mercy for you to get hard?”
The penetrator paused, his eyes narrowing.
“I feel like you should be taking this a lot more seriously. I am about to destroy everything you are as a person with a single thrust of my mighty cock. The Velvet Glove the world has known will cease to be, replaced by a mewling, submissive servant, slave to her carnal lust!”
“Yeah, but… ‘slave to her carnal lust’ is already kind of my brand, though? But if it helps…” Velvet dropped to her knees, clasped her hands in mock prayer, and gazed up with doe eyes at the sex god who shared the stage with her, “Please, please, Mr. Penetrator, don’t pound my invincible cunt into submission with your giant, limp cock.”
This elicited a snicker from the audience. The Penetrator gritted his teeth.
“Mocking it isn’t going to get it hard any faster,” he paused, frantic that all this thinking about his dick not being hard was going to make it that much more difficult to harden it. He glanced out over the audience, whose eyes were still fixed, for the most part, on Velvet Glove’s naked tits. A thought occured. Perhaps a new angle...
“Does it not fill you with shame,” he raised his voice and gestured broadly to the audience, “to know that all of them now see you reduced to what, at heart, you truly are: a wanton slut begging to be fucked? That all of your heroism, all your exalted deeds, all your pretensions to being a proud, independent woman are exposed as a facade? That in the end, like all women, you’re nothing but a whore waiting to be dominated?”
As he spoke the Penetrator advanced on Velvet, his cock twitching all the while, hardening, rising. The audience, and Velvet, regarded this development with unrestrained glee. Velvet, however, couldn’t quite bring herself to leave well enough alone.
“Well, you say that, but… I’m guessing the audience already knew I was a wanton slut,” she said, “Like, buddy, I’ve had three sex tapes leak, and I leaked two of them myself. And hey,” she turned her head and raised her voice to address the audience, “How many of you are planning, right now, to go home after this and jack it to one of my videos? Be honest!”
Thunderous applause.
“See?” she continued, “Doesn’t bug me. I know I like sex. Everyone knows I like sex. And, if I might add, no matter how much sex I’ve had, and I have had a lot, I’ve never once said ‘Wow. That orgasm was just so mind-blowing that it destroyed my entire conception of self.’ That’s, like… not a thing that happens?”
The Penetrator swiftly pivoted to a new angle.
“You may like sex,” he grinned, “but let’s see how well you like rape!”
Velvet stifled a laugh.
“I am literally down on my knees, enthusiastically consenting to the sex that I’m growing increasingly concerned is not about to happen. If you need it to be rape to get hard, I’ve got some bad news for you.”
The Penetrator was crestfallen. He gazed down at his almost-half-a-semi-hard-on. Why did this bitch have to make everything so difficult? The awkward silence, interrupted only by a few nervous coughs from the audience, hung heavily over the room.
At last she could stand it no longer, and Velvet sighed. She had come all this way; it’d be a shame to go home empty-handed. Or empty-pussied, as the case may be.
“If you want, I could suck it.”
“You would so debase yourself as to beg to suck my cock?” The Penetrator’s confidence returned; now he was back on familiar ground.
“I mean, I’m already down here, I might as well. Besides,” she jabbed her thumb at herself, smiled, and gave a wink, “I happen to be a world-class cocksucker. If cocksucking were an Olympic event, I’d be a multiple gold medalist.”
The purple-clad heroine was really not giving the Penetrator an inch in terms of going along with how these scenarios usually played out for him. Still, he wasn’t one to turn down an opportunity for a BJ. He proudly strutted forward to stand in front of Velvet, legs spread, and presented his massive member for her delectation.
Velvet rubbed her hands together and licked her lips, then carefully took the almost-entirely-soft cock in both hands. This would be a bit of a challenge; she’d mostly only had to deal with one-handers in the past, with the occasional no-hander thrown in. But, she told herself, she was a superheroine. She could handle anything!
The heroine began working her hands up and down the Penetrator’s shaft, moving in opposite directions, twisting slightly as she went. She kept her touch light, to start; best to tease the shy creature out into the open. She felt a twitch: good, signs of life. Ordinarily, at this point, she’d use her submissive hand to cradle his scrotum, but under the circumstances she felt it wise to keep both hands focused on working the shaft. She opened her mouth and stretched her tongue out delicately. Then, ever so gently, she touched the tip to the bottom of the Penetrator’s shaft, just below the head, and licked upward, curling her tongue back toward her mouth as she went. She felt a shudder run through his body. She began running the tip of her tongue back and forth, delicately tickling his frenulum. She felt like a magician performing a rope trick as his cock grew firmer in her hands.
Time to bring out the big gun. Velvet opened wide and maneuvered the head of his cock into her mouth. It was a bit of a struggle; he was at least two-and-a-half inches thick, possibly closer to three. Velvet felt an involuntary tingle between her thighs as she considered the possibility of this behemoth ransacking her snatch. She squirmed slightly and let out an involuntary moan in anticipation.
“That’s it, whore,” the Penetrator said, gripping the back of her head, “grow accustomed to your new place on your knees!”
Velvet’s eyes flashed upward.
“Iff cn ite ur di uff, y’no!” she mumbled around his cock.
“It’s not polite to speak with your mouth full, slave!” the Penetrator said, tightening his grip on her head.
Velvet pulled her head back, allowing the Penetrator’s now-solid member to slide out with an audible pop. The Penetrator’s firm grip proved no obstacle to Velvet doing as she pleased.
“I can bite your dick off, you know,” she repeated.
The Penetrator threw his head back and laughed.
“I like a slave with spirit!” he shouted, “Many in my harem have spoken such words, but none dared turn them to action!”
Velvet cocked an eyebrow.
“Try me. I’m strong in every muscle in my body, including the jaws. I’ll tear your cock head off like I’m tearing open a ketchup packet.”
The two stared at each other silently for a moment. The Penetrator was fairly certain that a heroine would not do such an unheroic deed… but he decided, in this instance, it was better not to risk it. Rather than apologize, though, he simply moved his cock back toward her mouth.
Velvet took it and resumed her blow job. She alternated between long, luxurious licks and quick sharp strokes of the tongue, throwing the occasional attempt at a deep throat into the mix. The deep throating proved less than effective, though, because she was accustomed to handling much smaller cocks. Ordinarily she had no problem bringing her lips to the base of the cock; with this one, she couldn’t even get halfway down the shaft. Being physically confronted with the enormity of this member sent another shiver down her spine and into her groin. She subconsciously rubbed her thighs together and felt a slick of moisture.
As an involuntary tremor of anticipation moved through her thighs, she felt an almost entirely unfamiliar sensation: A pang of self-doubt. Despite her earlier braggadocio, her cunt was not, in fact, invincible. Her superhumanly strong muscles made her somewhat tougher than the average woman, but she was nowhere close to invulverable. And while she preferred her cocks on the large side, she’d never handled anything close to this big before. Could she handle the Penetrator’s leviathan? The very thought that she might not be able to sent a fresh wave of warmth radiating out from her pussy.
Velvet was awoken from her reverie by a familiar, unwelcome sensation; a twitching in the shaft that presaged an explosion. Wide-eyed, the purple-clad pummeler tried to pull her mouth off the Penetrator’s penetrator so that she might re-direct the canon’s blast. She was too late; without a hand on his scrotum to feel his balls contract, the signals had reached her too late. She desperately tried to unhinge her jaw and pull out as she felt the load rushing down his shaft. She managed, just barely, to decouple just as the first load reached the Penetrator’s cockhead.
With a mighty splurt, Velvet Glove’s face was whitewashed. She closed her eyes just in time to avoid a stinging eyeful of come, but was too late to avoid the indignity of a facial. Three blasts hit her face, the fourth her neck, then the cock commenced dribbling onto her breasts. The audience erupted in applause. Velvet looked like a clown who had sloppily applied her makeup. And then had someone come on her tits.
Velvet glared up into the Penetrator’s grinning face.
“What do you say, slave?” he said, “Ordinarily I am thanked for the gift of my seed!”
“Seriously?!” Velvet shouted, “You seriously just shot your wad? What the fuck happened to dominating me sexually? Here I am being all nice and shit, giving you a blowjob, and you spend your load without even giving me a good, hard fuck?”
“If you want a place in my harem,” the penetrator said, “you’ll learn to be a little less mouthy and demanding. But don’t worry; as you can see, I’m still more than equipped to dominate.”
Velvet glanced down at the proud beast that remained shoved in her face. She now noticed that, in defiance of everything she had learned in her years of field study of the human male penis, it remained rock-hard. No gradual softening, no shrinkage. It still stood at attention, ready to enlist in another tour of duty.
The heroine’s mouth dropped open as she considered the possibilities. Her pussy ached insistently between her thighs. It had been teased long enough, it had dutifully moistened to the best of its ability, it was ready for action.
It was time, Velvet knew, to get fucked.
“Now, of course,” Velvet said, clearing her throat and attempting to salvage a bit of dignity, “I would ordinarily insist, after all the work I just did, that you return the favor.” She hopped up to her feet. “Under the circumstances, though, I think I’d prefer to skip to the intercourse.”
“It’s good you don’t make such a silly demand,” the Penetrator smirked, “because I’m not the kind of beta cuck who’d debase himself by licking some cunt’s cunt.”
Velvet gritted her teeth. A war went on in her head. On one side, her ordinarily-overwhelming desire to verbally get the best of anyone who challenged her. On the other, her more base need to get his huge cock inside of her as quickly as possible. She decided to compromise.
“I’ll let that slide,” she said, “but there is something you should know: There’s no possible way I’m going to come from this.”
“Oh really?” he said, amused.
Velvet casually reached down to wriggle out of her shorts. She bent over at the waist, sliding them down her long legs and over her boots, then stepped out of them and kicked them off. When she stood up, she revealed her underwear to both the Penetrator and the audience: A bright red G-String emblazoned with the words “Face it, Tiger,” followed by a row of three large slot machine-style number sevens, then the words, “You just hit the jackpot!” It was, like all of Velvet’s underwear, from her own lingerie collection, available in upscale department stores everywhere. This one came from the new “Mary Jane” line, playfully sexual undies aimed at college kids.
“Yeah,” Velvet responded, “I’ve never come from vaginal intercourse by itself. I generally either finish myself with my hand, or the guy goes down on me.”
“Ha!” the Penetrator barked.
“It’s not uncommon,” Velvet said, feeling a little defensive, “Most women can’t orgasm without at least some clitoral stimulation. Doesn’t mean I don’t like the feeling of a big cock, though.”
“Maybe the problem is that you haven’t had a big enough cock in you,” the Penetrator said. In a single quick motion, he reached down, grabbed Velvet’s g-string, and ripped it off, throwing it casually over his shoulder, “Maybe you just haven’t been fucked by a real man!”
“Hey!” Velvet said, looking at the crumpled g-string on the ground, “Jesus, I was about to take it off anyway! And I’m telling you, you’re not gonna make me come.”
“So you say,” the Penetrator smiled, “Now let’s put your so-called ‘invincible cunt’ to the test!”
He reached out and grabbed her shoulders, pushing her down and back. Velvet was unprepared. She fell backward, legs splayed, presenting her glistening pussy to the dominating god-beast. He looked down at her, her legs spread, her tits still bouncing slightly, clad only in boots, gloves, and mask, a look of surprise, mixed with fear and desire, playing across her face. He had taken a slight detour this time, but had wound up in the same place that he had with Iron Maiden, the Night Huntress, and the other slaves in his small-but-growing collection of super whores: with the once-proud heroine practically begging to have her furrow seeded by his mighty plow. He could see her lips trembling slightly, her eyes fixed on his cock, anticipating the pillaging to come. As he dropped to his knees he felt like a wolf laying into a lost, scared little lamb.
Velvet lay on the ground, stunned by the quickness and force of the Penetrator’s attack. She propped herself up on her elbows and fixed her eyes on the brobdingnagian dick whose head now hovered mere inches away from her giddily quivering slot. Velvet was in the habit of having her muff expertly groomed by professionals, and today was no different. As was her custom, her pubes had been carefully trimmed and shaved to form her famous interlocking VG logo. The tip of that V now pointed straight at Velvet’s bullseye, and the Penetrator used it to guide him as he took careful aim, tensed his well-muscled buttocks, and thrust forward. In half a second, Velvet had been claimed.
“OH!” The supine superheroine’s purple boots involuntarily kicked upward as her elbows slid out from under her, sending her back slamming into the floorboards of the stage. She barely noticed the roar of hoots and hollers from the crowd. Every dick in the audience was now at full-mast, hoping that once the alpha on stage finished having his way with the once-haughty heroine that he might share her with the betas in the crowd.
The Penetrator pulled back slowly, his cock making an audible splort as it slowly re-emerged, glistening with Velvet’s nectar. He paused as he completed his backward motion, his member poised with just the tip still inside Velvet’s drooling cunt.
“Still convinced I won’t make you come?” the Penetrator smiled down at Velvet.
Velvet looked back up at him, eyes wide, mouth agape. She was awestruck, dumbstruck, and cockstruck. For once in her privileged, preening, and loud-mouthed life, Velvet couldn’t speak, couldn’t come up with a witty comeback, couldn’t even form a coherent word with her trembling lips. All she could do was silently, subtly shake her head “No.”
The Penetrator laughed.
“Then beg me for it. Beg me to tame you. Beg me to make you my slave.”
Velvet clenched her eyes as she concentrated. Her pretty little brains were rapidly leaking out of her pussy, but she did her best to marshall what remained to form a few almost-cogent thoughts. If I want more of that, I have to say the words… and that is what I came here for… isn’t it? They’re only words, just… a thing you say during sex, it wouldn’t mean anything… and if I don’t say them, I won’t get the ravaging that I need, that I deserve! And I’m the one asking for it, so I’m still in charge… right? Nobody’s the master of Velvet Glove!
“T-tame me…” she whispered.
“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that,” the Penetrator smirked.
“Tame me!” Velvet shouted, “Make me your slave! Show me how a real man, a stud, an alpha male takes a woman, and makes her his bitch!”
“That’s all I needed to hear.”
With that, the Penetrator plunged back into Velvet’s hungry cunt.
Velvet Glove had, over the years, perfected the art of the Porn Squeal, the encouraging cries of “Yes, Yes, Yes!” that often accompanied intercourse in pornographic films. She had found them particularly useful in encouraging men with substandard dicks or poor cocksmanship. Suitably invigorated by her cries, otherwise disappointing men were often emboldened to reach new heights of prowess during their (inevitably singular) sessions with Velvet. She had found the tactic so helpful that she had acquired the habit of engaging the Porn Squeal no matter who her paramour of the evening might be or what his carnal abilities.
In the instant that the Penetrator thrust his cock for the second time into Velvet’s eager pussy, she forgot everything she new about the artifice of the Porn Squeal and, for the first time in her life, squealed in genuine, unadulterated ecstasy.
“Yes, yes, yes, you magnificent beast! You fucking sex god!” Velvet squealed, her boots kicking with uncontrolled abandon high in the air. She gripped the ground, her powerful fingers splintering the floorboards beneath them.
When the Penetrator had invaded her the first time, she had felt something she’d never felt before. Fullness. Satiety. Pain. A pleasure she had never before known. A pleasure she would do anything to know again. Now as he gave her that pleasure, plunging up to the hilt, pulling back to the tip, then plunging in again, she felt that pleasure once more, small at first, but growing, spreading, conquering her senses. It started in her lower abdomen, and from there stretched out, to her breasts, to her nipples, to the tips of her fingers, to the tips of her toes.
Velvet had orgasmed many times before. She knew her parts inside and out, knew every one of their secrets and how best to manipulate them to give her the pleasure she desired. Or she thought she did. But the Penetrator’s cyclopean member was providing her with a new education. She found there was a type of pleasure that she couldn’t give herself, that only a man could provide… that only the Penetrator could provide.
Velvet gazed up into the Penetrator’s face, his perfectly rigid, slightly stubbly jaw, his protruding chin, his dreamy blue eyes. She gave him a look that no man, no human, no thing had ever received from Velvet before: A look of pure adoration, of longing, of love. She felt everything that it meant to be Velvet Glove, the money, the fame, the self-centeredness, being chiselled away, and as the cruft that was her indomitable ego sloughed off, a flawless marble statue of the Penetrator, in all his Olympian glory, was revealed.
Velvet’s feet fell to the ground as she lost the wherewithal to keep them lifted. She grasped at the Penetrator, pulling him down so that his muscular chest smothered her, and melted into his pectorals as she hugged him. She grasped his powerful arms, losing herself in the feeling of being dominated by a muscular hunk. She wrapped her legs around his torso and then… lost all ability to sense anything except the feel of his cock, thrusting in and out, in and out of her heretofore-unconquered cunt. She barely even registered as his dick spasmed and began shooting its load deep into the depths of her womb.
Velvet gasped involuntarily. She felt it. The appointed hour, which had been rapidly approaching, was here at last. With the inevitability of a runaway freight train, she felt the first twinges that signalled the beginning of an Earth-shattering, wall-shaking, mind-melting, bitch-taming, cunt-claiming, heroine-humbling climax, a climax that would utterly demolish all that remained of the fierce, man-eating tigress that was the Velvet Glove and leave a docile, mewling, purring, domesticated house cat in its wake.
“Oh God! Oh GOD! Oh HOLY SHIT! You are better than I am, and I am your WORTHLESS SLAVE!!!”
If Velvet Glove were any other woman, indeed, if she were any other heroine, this would more-or-less be the end of her story. As chemicals triggering feelings of love and devotion flooded her brain, she would have gleefully submitted to her enslavement. She would have gladly allowed her new master to parade her for the hooting audience, and would have, at his command, serviced them with all the enthusiasm she could muster, albeit thinking all the time about when her pussy might once again be reunited with the one cock whose brutal assault it could not withstand. She would have gleefully joined his harem, where she would have assumed her rightful place as Alpha Bitch. After all, she would still be, on some level, Velvet Glove, and if she no longer had aspirations to be the world’s most beloved superheroine, she would instead fight to be her master’s most beloved slave. She would have joyfully taken up the task of enslaving her former allies, relishing in particular the fall of that loser Jacky-of-All-Trades, that snooty know-it-all Mind Mistress, and, above all, the holier-than-thou, champion-of-all-women, so-perfect-even-her-farts-smell-of-greek-olives-and-sea-breeze Artemis. She would have ecstatically served her new lord and master, the Penetrator, standing at his side or, failing that, kneeling before his lap.
Velvet Glove, however, was not any other woman but herself. And who she was was a woman whose ego was unconquerable, whose need for the adulation of the masses was indomitable, a slut who was entirely immune to shaming. More importantly, though, Velvet Glove was the strongest woman in the world, whose every muscle was easily more powerful than a supersonic jet.
Every muscle.
Several things happened when Velvet climaxed. The first thing that happened, and ultimately the least painful one to the Penetrator, was that her fingers clenched involuntarily. As her fingers were, at the time, wrapped around the Penetrator’s upper arms, the force of her grip pinched his nerves, crushed his triceps, and ground his humeri into dust. The one bit of good fortune that the Penetrator had was that the other results of Velvet’s climax were so painful that his overwhelmed nervous system was unable even to register that this had happened.
The second result of Velvet’s climax was that her thighs pressed together and her hips bucked. This resulted, first, in the Penetrator’s pelvis being crushed, and second, in the Penetrator being sent flying across the room, having been entirely thrown clear by the woman he hadn’t even thought he needed to hold onto. He smacked into the far wall with a mighty crash, his voice warbling as he cried in pain all the while.
The ululations were brought about by the third, and ultimately most significant, result of Velvet’s climax. Her unconquerable cunt spasmed uncontrollably, as cunts are wont to do when orgasm is attained. The Penetrator’s penetrator was fully ensconced in Velvet’s snatch when it began its contractions. The result was not entirely unlike having one’s dick caught in a vice being squeezed by a four hundred pound gorilla, only moreso. The squeezing of Velvet’s indomitable vag, coupled with the rapid outward motion of the Penetrator being thrown across the room, had a result similar to forcefully squeezing all the toothpaste from a tube.
The Penetrator hit the far wall, then slid down, squealing all the while. His body was wracked by great sobs as he came hazily back to self awareness and realized the implications of his ill-conceived attempt at conquest. The true enormity of what had happened took a while to slowly penetrate the fog of pain that was his experiential world. He gazed down, forlornly, and surveyed the damage done. Where once had stood a glorious cock, over a foot long and nearly three inches thick, proud, hard, ready for anything, there now lay a pathetic, limp, whimpering ghost of its former self, stretched out three feet long and under half an inch thick, twitching and spasming as it went through its death throes.
“You bitch!” he sobbed, “You’ve ruined me! You-”
And with that, the pain proved simply too great. The Penetrator shuddered as he blacked out and collapsed against the wall.
Velvet, meanwhile, was on a different planet entirely, a softer, pinker one. Her brain, flooded with neurochemicals designed to instill a sense of contentment and satisfaction, was in a daze. As her trembling subsided, she slowly lifted herself to her feet and stumbled off the stage. She was a bit confused; where had her lover gone? What was he doing? When would he favor her once again with the glorious gift of his cock?
Velvet wasn’t sure where she was going or what she was doing. She ignored the rush of young men who ran to the stage to assist their guest speaker, every one of whom had now completely abandoned the idea of taking a shot at her steel trap vagina. The cries of “call 911!” and “get an ambulance!” remained a thousand miles away from where Velvet’s head was at, and the calls for help elicited only a soft whimper from her slackened lips.
The dizzy dominoed daredolll soon found herself standing outside Susan B. Anthony Hall, staring out at the great crowd of students who had sat for the last half hour, tensely awaiting the result of her showdown with the Penetrator. When the students laid eyes on the heroine, her eyes glazed, her face still dripping with come, naked but for gloves, boots and masks, and leaving a sticky trail in her wake, the male students cheered and the female students groaned.
Hearing the applause, Velvet’s overmatched brain tried to do what came naturally to her when she heard adulation. She attempted a faux-modest curtsy, but, between her climax-weakened legs, her precarious stiletto heels, and the slippery ground beneath her, she lost her footing. Her feet flew out from under her and she plopped down on her callipygean ass, legs spread, monogrammed pussy on full display. She wobbled unsteadily back and forth, her eyes fixed in a thousand-mile stare, her mouth hanging open in a slackened stupor.
“Wh-what happened?” Margaret P. Jones asked from the front of the crowd, still grasping the thin reed of hope that she might not have lost her bet to Trevor Thorndick, “d-did he rape you?”
A slow smile spread lazily across Velvet’s face as she recalled her recent sexual escapade. At last she spoke.
“I finally got fucked right.”
With that, Velvet collapsed backward onto the top step of the entrance to Susan B. Anthony Hall, the only parts of her visible to the throng below her long booted legs and her gaping cunt, drooling a heady cocktail comprising the Penetrator’s salty seed and her own sweet nectar.
A mighty cheer went up from the men of the MSU. Trevor Thorndick grabbed Margaret P. Jones and pulled her into a long, lascivious kiss, his tongue ramming down her throat. At first Margaret resisted, but as she considered the thorough defeat of her chosen heroine, her resistance melted away. After all, if Velvet Glove, the world’s strongest woman, couldn’t resist a dominating man, what chance had she?
The rest of the men in the crowd followed Trevor’s example, grabbing women left and right, preparing to commence a bacchanalian revel. The women of Beaver college quickly resigned themselves to their newly subordinate position on campus, and were preparing to enter subordinate sexual positions right there on the lawn when an ambulance arrived, flanked by a pair of squad cars.
A hush fell over the crowd as the paramedics entered the hall. They emerged a few minutes later with the Penetrator, still in his Olympian God form, on a gurney, his nudity covered by a modesty sheet. As they wheeled him to the ambulance, a cop, her brown hair pulled into a neat ponytail, approached the humbled villain.
“Rooster ‘Cock’ Jeffries, AKA The Penetrator?” she asked in a way that was more statement than question.
The Penetrator, still in a painful haze, groaned in acknowledgement.
“You’re under arrest for statutory rape. One miss Anastasia Fish, whom you ‘met’ at the party last night. She’s sixteen. She didn’t want to press charges, but her father sure did. You have the right to remain silent…”
As the cop began mirandizing the Penetrator she attempted to attach a handcuff to his wrist. As she did so, she jostled the gurney, causing his demolished dick to flop out and land limply on the ground. Already the flesh was beginning to blacken as it necrotized.
Pulling herself from out of her submissive daze, Margaret suddenly realized the implications of what had happened.
“Hey, wait a minute!” she shouted, pushing Trevor off of her, “You didn’t win the bet, I did! Jeffries isn’t leaving here a free man, he’s going to jail! And he’s never going to fuck another girl with that cock again!”
Trevor took a step backward and gulped. She wasn’t wrong…
“On top of that!” Margaret crowed, “You sexually assaulted me without my consent! And without even the implied consent of a lost bet!”
“Hey! Um, I definitely meant that bet as a joke,” Trevor tried to weasel, “I wasn’t really serious. You can’t-”
“On you knees, worm!” Margaret sneered as she grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him down, putting his face at eye-level with her crotch, “And worship my cunt like the goddess I am!”
With their leader so thoroughly and publicly defeated, the outnumbered and outmatched men of the MSU were soon routed. They were quickly rounded up and brought before a matriarchal tribunal, where they were made to pay for their crimes. That night, the air in the Hudson Valley rang out with the cries of college-aged men being taught the true joys of submission to dominant female hands.
***
Jacky-of-All-Trades had her feet up on the conference room table and was casually flipping through the newspaper. It had been a busy afternoon and evening, but she’d finally put out all the fires and was now preparing to enjoy the fruits of her labors. She was in an uncommonly good mood for how hectic her day had been. A mug of coffee sat in easy arm’s reach, and she hadn’t even Irished it up. Much. And in fairness, getting through the afternoon had taken a few stiff drinks. Jacky’s mind was about to drift into some uncomfortable places regarding her relationship to alcohol when Velvet stomped into the conference room.
“So,” Jacky said, not looking up from her paper, “How did it go?”
“I don’t want to talk about it!” said Velvet.
“You ripped his dick off, didn’t you?” Jacky asked, still not looking up.
“I don’t want to talk about it!” said Velvet, stomping out the door on the opposite end of the room.
A few seconds passed, then Velvet peeked back in.
“Wait, how did you know?” Velvet asked.
Jacky folded up her paper, took her feet off the table, and looked over at Velvet.
“Aside from the fact that cleaning up after your mess has been my day today? I kinda guessed this might happen. Now you know why Bronco Buster is our designated Sex Villain Specialist.”
Velvet flounced over to a chair and flopped down into it. She didn’t want to sit right next to Jacky, but something compelled her not to take the farthest possible chair; she felt a strange and unfamiliar need for human closeness right now. She had arrived back at Femme Defenders HQ and put on a purple silk kimono, just barely long enough to cover what needed to be covered. She’d also treated herself to a selection from the “comfy underpants” drawer; she felt she deserved it.
“So how did you find out?” Velvet asked.
“Oh, Mind Mistress waited until about five minutes after you left to tell me what she’d done. She is not good at keeping secrets. Are you planning a trip to Germany next month?”
“That’s none of your business!” Velvet snapped.
“Anyhow, I was in touch with Artemis, the Justice Squad, civilian authorities, making sure the details of your adventure up at Beaver College will be kept as quiet as possible. It went surprisingly well, actually; for a bunch of horny college kids who just watched a celebrity have sex on stage right in front of their eyes, those Beaver College boys were weirdly eager to do whatever I told them. Half of them called me Mistress, it was almost kinda gross.”
“You mean…?” Velvet looked at Jacky hopefully.
Jacky grimaced and shook her head.
“The problem is, there were also some women in the crowd, and they all seem to be in a ‘won’t take crap from anyone’ mood today. So, congrats, you just had your fourth sex tape released.”
“Uuuuuuggggggghhhhhh,” Velvet moaned, “And I won’t even get royalties from this one…”
“So anyhow,” Velvet continued, “You’re not in trouble. I told Artemis I gave you a special emergency dispensation to take him out and we got all the paperwork taken care of.”
“I guess that’s good…” Velvet said sullenly. She really couldn’t care less about superhero bureaucracy.
“We also talked to the hospital where they treated the Penetrator. Your sex tape cuts out before the ‘good part,’ and we’re trying to suppress the… exact nature of how you won your battle with him. The secret of your little… vagina dentata there is safe.”
Velvet blushed.
“Well, that’s good, at least,” Velvet said.
“We had to give them enough money to dedicate a new wing of the hospital, though,” Jacky said, “They even let me designate what the money would be used for and name the new wing.”
“Oh no…”
“So next week you’ll be making a civilian appearance at the groundbreaking for the Veronica LeGrange Center for Breast Augmentation and Penile Reconstruction and Enhancement.”
Veronica put her head in her hands.
“Great. So… Did you know this would happen?” Velvet said.
“I mean, I kinda guessed? Mind Mistress was pretty sure about it, too, but she wanted to confirm.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I mean… that’s kind of an awkward conversation to have, isn’t it?” Jacky said, looking up at the ceiling as she tried to justify herself, “Like, ‘Hey, so, have you ever just destroyed someone’s penis with your vag during sex?’ I take it this hasn’t happened before?”
Velvet shook her head.
“Never came with a dude inside you before?” Jacky asked.
Velvet shook her head again.
“Never had any indication that your PC muscles might be as strong as the rest of you?”
Velvet thought a moment.
“Well, there was that one time…” Velvet said, “At the carnival, with that iron bar…”
Jacky raised a curious eyebrow, but decided to leave this one. Maybe Artemis would know more.
“Regardless,” Jacky continued, “I figured there were two possibilities: EIther you already knew, and it’d be an embarrassing conversation for everyone, or else you didn’t know, and… Well, I was kinda hoping if you didn’t know that something like this might happen.”
Jacky flashed a joking smile. Velvet didn’t laugh; she just looked away forlornly. Everything was quiet.
“Jacky?” Velvet broke the silence, her voice quavering slightly.
“Yeah?” Jacky had a pretty good idea what was coming next.
“I feel… I don’t know, weird.”
Jacky sighed. She’d been expecting this. When Bronco Buster had gotten certified as a Sex Villain Specialist, Jacky had volunteered to be the Femme Defenders’ Designated Aftercare Provider. The Justice Squad had determined that psych assistance was extremely helpful in maintaining the mental health and wellbeing of heroines who faced such emotionally trying ordeals. It was actually while providing aftercare for Bronco Buster that Jacky had first really gotten to know BB, and look where that wound up.
Jacky shifted a seat over so that she was sitting next to Velvet. She put a hand on Velvet’s shoulder.
“It’s okay,” said Jacky, “It’s tough, I know, but it’s ordinary to have a lot of confusing and unpleasant feelings after taking down a sex villain.”
Velvet rested her head in her hands. She kind of didn’t want to talk about this, especially with Jacky, but she felt a weird compulsion to get it out, like she’d feel better if she could just say what she was feeling.
“I just…” Velvet started, “I haven’t been able to think about anything else since I woke up on the steps at Beaver College. It’s like my whole world is colored by it, now.”
Jacky was more than familiar with this. She patted Velvet on the back.
“Is it the way that sex villains take something as beautiful as sex and turn it into an ugly tool of domination?” Jacky asked.
Velvet sniffed.
“I guess… Yeah, I guess that part bothers me, but… I dunno, actually, not really? I guess I’m kinda ‘who cares’ about that part. I mean, I have sex to take cocky dudes down a peg all the time, so that doesn’t bug me.”
Jacky was a bit taken aback, but she pivoted.
“Well, then, are you feeling guilty? Is it possible that you saw some of yourself in the Penetrator, and you didn’t like what you saw?”
Velvet crinkled her nose.
“No, definitely not. If anything, it showed me how amazing I am at sex and everything else.
Jacky mused that Velvet’s secret superpower was still immunity to introspection. She decided to try a different tack.
“Is it possible that you’re having… feelings for the Penetrator?”
Velvet thought a moment.
“That seems a little closer. I was kind of ready to throw everything away to run off with him, which felt very Not Me, and now I can’t do that, but it also feels weird to go back to my old life when I was all set to throw it away.”
“That’s not that unusual, actually. When we orgasm, our brain gets flooded with chemicals, particularly oxytocin, which stimulates strong feelings of love and attachment. It can lead to really confusing stuff if you climax during a sex fight. But remember: He’s actually a shitty guy that you’d never even want to hang out with in real life.”
“Yeah, I know, it’s just…”
“Yes?”
“It’s just…”
Jacky patted Velvet on the back again.
“Just let it out,” Jacky encouraged.
Velvet dropped her head to the table and mumbled through her hair.
“I miss his cock.”
Jacky sat back. She wasn’t prepared for this.
“Oh.”
“It’s just…” Velvet continued, “It was so big, you know? Have you ever had sex with a guy who had a really big dick?”
“I can honestly say that I have never had sex with a guy.”
“Well, hooray for the gold-star lesbian. Let me find you a medal.”
“Attacking me won’t make you feel better.”
“Beg to differ.”
“Anyway, this seems like a solvable problem.”
“Wait,” Velvet’s head shot up from the table, “What about the Penetrator’s dick? How is it? What happened? Will it… Will it be okay?”
“Erm. Well, I talked to the hospital. They sent in some interrogation specialists to find his seduction lair so they can locate and deprogram the heroines he captured. And I’m afraid… I’m afraid they had to amputate.”
Velvet’s head fell back down to the table. Jacky could hear soft sobbing emerging from Velvet’s jet black hair-cape.
“They might be able to give him a prosthetic?” Jacky said.
“It won’t be the same…” Velvet said.
“Well… I’ll tell you what we can do… I can prooooobably talk to Artemis about rushing your application to be designated a Sex Villain Specialist. We can get you in the official rotation in just a month or two.”
Velvet tilted her head up, so her chin was resting on the table as she looked up at Jacky.
“Will other sex villains have cocks like the Penetrator’s?”
“I don’t know, our file was a little… vague on that point. How big was he?”
“Well, I mean, I’m no expert,” Velvet sat up and put a finger to her lip, deep in thought, “But if I had to ballpark… I’d say thirteen-point-three inches long by… three-and-a-quarter wide. Give or take.”
“Oh, wow,” Jacky said.
“Huge, right?” Velvet said.
“No, I mean, as sex villains go, that’s on the small side.”
“What.”
“Oh yeah, BB took out this guy about a year ago. The Pummeler, wrestling-themed sex villain. Had a two foot schlong, five inches thick.”
“You are shitting me!”
Jacky smiled.
“No fooling!” Jacky said, “Once you get into sex villains, you’re in a whole new size class when it comes to penises. Or so I’m told…”
“Jesus, and here I’ve been wasting my time with all these ordinary schmucks…”
“Y’know,” Jacky, for the first time in her life, felt a strange compulsion to defend men, “Most women aren’t actually that into huge dicks. Quite the opposite, in fact. I actually read a survey that found that the straight women happiest with their sex lives were the ones dating guys with micro penises. That’s what they call a penis smaller than three inches when erect. And it makes sense, you know? A guy with a small dick’s gonna try really hard in other areas to compensate, while a guy with a big dick, thanks to porn and sex fics and other media that give an unrealistic portrayal of how sex works, is gonna think a huge cock is all he needs and just pound away. When you think about it-”
“Jacky,” Velvet interrupted, putting her hand on top of Jacky’s, “I’m going to stop you there. It looks like you’re about to go on a rant, and I stopped listening when you said ‘micro penis.’ Why would I care about such things?”
“Hmmph,” Jacky grunted.
“So… If you don’t mind my asking…” Velvet paused, not sure exactly how to phrase her question, “Why... is BB... our sex specialist?” She looked Jacky straight in the eyes and cocked an eyebrow significantly, smiling slyly.
“Oh! Um. Well…” Jacky was flustered. A hint of color rose to her cheeks, “I mean… I’m not supposed to talk about some things, they’re kind of secrets… But, well… She’s really good at it.”
“I see…” Velvet said with a sly smile.
“Let’s just say… You know how they call her Bronco Buster?”
“It’s almost the only thing I know about her.”
“Well…” now it was Jacky’s turn for a sly smile, “she didn’t get that name for breaking horses.”
“Lucky you.”
“I know, right?”
“Anyhow,” Velvet said, rising from her feet, equilibrium restored, “I do feel a bit bad for you, Jacky dear.”
Jacky sighed.
“And why is that?”
“You’ll never know the bliss I’ve known, of having something big and hard just… just dominating you,” Velvet got a slightly glassy-eyed, far-off look as she recalled her time with the Penetrator.
“Oh! That reminds me! We got an email from a Margaret P. Dowd at Beaver College shortly before you got back. She’s the one who tipped us off to the Penetrator’s visit to the campus.”
“Oh?”
“Not sure exactly what she meant by everything, but she wanted to thank you. She said that by unanimous consent the MSU had been disbanded. She added that the entire campus was celebrating a ‘new dawn for women’s liberation’ and that you were welcome to come join in the festivities.”
“Hard pass. Bunch of women, celebrating their sisterhood…” Velvet wrinkled her nose, “Seems more like your thing, Jacky.”
“She thought you might say that, so she sent a photo,” Jacky continued, clicking a button to turn on the conference room video screen. A picture appeared, depicting Margaret giving two thumbs up while standing next to a naked and shackled Trevor Thorndick. His head hung low, defeated and submissive. A purple ribbon had been tied around his cock. “She says ‘Trevor’s training has been going well, so I thought I’d reward him and offer you a gift at the same time. Come unwrap him!’”
Velvet’s face lit up. She clapped her hands with glee. Then, realizing the company, she calmed herself a bit.
“I mean, he’s no Penetrator… but I suppose he’ll do in a pinch. Besides, my pussy could use a good licking, and I seem to recall he was getting schooled in that regard.”
“Haha,” Jacky chuckled, “Knock yourself out.”
Velvet spun around and practically skipped out of the room, narrowly avoiding Bronco Buster as she walked in carrying a leather duffel bag.
“Oh, hey, BB!” Jacky leapt up and bounded across the room, engulfing Bronco Buster in a hug and planting a long kiss on the cowgirl’s mouth. Bronco returned the hug, dropping her bag. “How was Paris?”
Bronco shrugged nonchalantly, then jerked a thumb at the rapidly disappearing Velvet Glove and raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“Oh, that. We’re adding Velvet to the sex villain rotation and she had her first outing. We just finished aftercare and she’s running off for some… informal aftercare of her own.”
Bronco rolled her eyes.
“Say, speaking of…” Jacky’s mind wandered back to her conversation with Jacky, and penis size, and the joys of having something big and hard inside of you, dominating you. She reached up and played coyly with the collar on Bronco’s shirt, “You wouldn’t happen to still have the Violator, would you? I know I said it was a bit much, but after talking with Velvet I’m in kind of a ‘mood’ and was thinking I might like to try it again.”
Bronco thought a moment, then nodded. Now it was Jacky’s turn to practically skip from the room as she lead Bronco away.
“C’mon,” Jacky said, “Let’s adjourn to your quarters so I can give you a proper welcome back to America.”
Dramatis Personae:
Velvet Glove: Our heroine! Real name: Veronica LeGrange. Both the richest and strongest woman in the world. The wealth comes from being the heiress to Victor LeGrange, sole owner and CEO of LeGrange Security, a contractor that has cornered the market on the manufacture of both superhero headquarters and HyperMax prisons for the containment of superpowered criminals. The strength comes from sources unknown, because I haven’t written an origin story, because origin stories are boring. It’s kind of implied that her powers were bought, however. Velvet used to be on the Justice Squad, the premiere superhero team in this particular universe, but was unceremoniously expelled for violations of their morality clause. Self-confident, self-involved, Velvet has a very difficult time caring about things that aren’t her. She’s a heroine because she sees it as a path to becoming the world’s most famous and popular woman. She’s also an unabashed and unshameable slut. If you want a visual reference: http://fav.me/d9mx9ko
Jacky-of-All-Trades: Until recently, the leader of the Femme Defenders, this universe’s greatest (by default) all-female superhero team. Her power lets her do literally anything, but she can only perform those tasks at an average skill level. She can get better-than-average at skills if she practices and raises her native skill level… but since basic competence comes so easily, it’s hard for her to concentrate on any one thing long enough to actually get good at it. Long-suffering. Perpetually at odds with Velvet, who finances the team and would prefer to run it herself. Recently came out as a lesbian, surprisingly literally noone. To the extent that any of these characters are based on me, Jacky is the one that’s closest.
Bronco Buster: Mysterious cowgirl-themed superheroine. Nobody knows her name, nobody knows her backstory, she just breezed into town one day and started showing up to Femme Defenders meetings. Despite rumors to the contrary, she can talk, she just chooses not to unless absolutely necessary. In a relationship with Jacky-of-All-Trades, which they kept secret for a long time while Jacky was in the closet. Jacky knows more about her than she’s allowed to say. Sex Villain Specialist.
Mind Mistress: Time-lost alien visitor from millennia in the future. Green skin and purple hair. I’ve written, like, twelve pages of backstory that have never even come up in any of my stories. The important thing is: She’s super-smart, has a difficult time keeping her thoughts to herself, has a neural implant that allows her to interface remotely with nearby computers, and frequently verbally spars with Velvet.
Artemis: Not even going to pretend on this one: When you see Artemis, read as “Wonder Woman.” Details aren’t important for this story. Recently took over the Femme Defenders, against their will, following a particularly disastrous mission in Deco City. Velvet Glove has accomplished something that was long believed to be impossible: She’s a woman who’s gotten Artemis to dislike her.
Zoe: Barely mentioned in this story. Bubbly and enthusiastic teen rubbergirl hero. Bouncy both physically and in personality. Her persona is “overexcited fangirl.” It’s not intentional, but I created her right around the time Kamala Khan was in the news, so it wouldn’t surprise me if the new Ms. Marvel was subconscious inspiration.
Flower Power: Isn’t even mentioned in this story.
Iron Maiden and Night Huntress: Are just names I made up. They’ve never appeared in previous stories, and may well never appear again. Night Huntress is presumably a member of the Night Hunter Family, though. Night Hunter is my serial-numbers-filed-off version of Batman.
The Penetrator, Margaret P. Dowd, and Trevor Thorndick: Are characters created for this story who will never appear again. The story has everything you need to know about them.
Special acknowledgement is due to Violator, whose stories inspired this piece and whom I have now immortalized by naming a presumably-gargantuan strap-on after him, and Larry Niven, for writing “Man of Steel, Woman of Tissue.” It was through exploring the further implications of his thesis that I came to conceptualize the climax of this story. :-)