A HERO COMES TO DELTA CITY, PART TWO – THE BAR

By Violator

Our Story Thus Far:  Star God, a mighty and well-hung superhero, has come to Delta City to try and score some super-tail.  In his debut encounter he saved a young lady from thugs in a dark alley.  She proceeded to give him a very thorough and pleasant reward.  But, divining his reason for being in Delta City, she also gave him a card to the Goddess Lounge, a secret bar supposedly patronized exclusively by the city's bikini-clad heroines.  You have three guesses where Star God is going to bee-line to next, and the first two don't count.

Send any feedback or comments to violatoremail@protonmail.com.  Hit END for a short summary.

Late that night, in the rotted heart of downtown a broad-shouldered man strutted up to the base of a towering skyscraper.  He looked around.  

Overhead, the glittering skyscrapers of Delta City towered like glowing steel and glass cliffs.  The streets all around him were deserted, save for a few homeless men in the distance who rooted through the trash, seemingly oblivious to the man’s presence.  Only a few loose bits of trash blowing across the street, and the occasional distant gunshot, broke the stillness.  Against the wall of the nearest skyscraper, a nondescript service door waited.

He smirked.  “Let’s do this,” he said.

Striding into a dark alley, he momentarily vanished from view.  There came a whirl of light, and a tornado of ejected clothing.  Moments later the shining form of Star God towered where before his alter-ego Miles Long had stood.  He smiled... and strode forward, deeper into the alley.

Within moments, through the shady gloom, he came to stand at a nondescript back entrance.  It had a little chip reader beside it.  A sign beside it read 'private' in golden, swirling letters.  Reaching into his belt he pulled out the card, and tapped it against the reader.  The door clicked open.

Star God smirked.  “Easy pussy,” he said.  Then he opened the door.

Inside, he found a run-down service corridor, with thick rusty pipes snaking about like jungle vines overhead and up and down the walls.  Hidden amongst them was an old freight elevator.  It stood open, and waiting.  Strutting forward, Star God stepped inside.  The outer door clicked closed behind him.

Upon the elevator control panel were over eighty floors.  Every  last one had been crossed out, except for the last, which had a golden star.  He pressed the star.  The elevator closed, rattled, and then began to rumble upwards.  Standing with his legs spread and his hands on his hips, like an old-west gunslinger waiting for the draw, Star God rode up and up.  At last, the elevator shuddered to a halt.  

The elevator doors opened up like curtains on a stage… to reveal paradise.  Still standing inside, slightly stunned, Star God whistled softly to himself.

Before him stretched an immaculate skyscraper-top bar.  It could not have been more different from the run-down passageways leading to it.  The lights were low and flickering, emulating candles.  The bar was done up like a prohibition-era speakeasy:  the floors and counters were all polished marble, the fixtures all polished brass.  The stools were plush leather.  To his left the entire wall was floor-to-ceiling windows, through which the skyline of Delta City glittered at close range.  To the right was a well-stocked bar, with top-shelf liquor arrayed from floor to ceiling.  In the distance a door led out onto a balcony, and he realized that probably half the clientele arrived and departed that way, far from the prying eyes of their public.

But it was not the décor that made his eyes pop.  It was the customers.  The bar, if it had been busy, could have contained probably fifty people.  It had far less than that.  But the quality of flesh on display far made up for the quantity.  For everywhere he looked he saw the incredibly buxom, scantily-clad form of a super-heroine.

There were, a quick count revealed, exactly six heroines in the bar.  They were arrayed in two groups.  To his left, clustered around a high table near the windows, stood four super-human beauties.  Engrossed in their own conversation, they didn’t seem to have noticed his arrival.  In the shadows, he could not quite make them out – not that he looked much at their faces in any case – but a glint of red hair, the roll of a giant dusky-skinned butt, and the jiggling of some huge ebony-skinned titties, let him know there was quite a veritable buffet of super-pussy that way.

But they still scarcely drew his eyes.  For, a little further in, standing side-by-side were two figures he recognized instantly:  Ms. Americana and Got Gal.  Two of the hottest and most powerful bitches in the exceptionally target-rich Delta City scene.  His eyes latched in particular onto Ms. Americana, whose staggeringly sculpted body stood closer to him, almost as if on perfect display for him in its tiny trademark bikini.  Her face turned away from him, as she chatted with her friend in front of two half-empty glasses, she appeared oblivious to his presence.  But he knew from instinct and from theory that he should not bother nibbling around the edges – if he could score Ms. Americana, the alpha female, he would be impossible to eject from their group - and then the rest of their bikinis would assuredly drop down to his feet one by one.  He eyed her obliviously swaying curves… and licked his lips with relish.

One more woman lay within the room.  Waiting patiently behind the bar, near her two best customers, was the bartender.  She was so gorgeous – and the endowments that jiggled back and forth just above the bar in a straining black bra so generous – he immediately suspected she was a retired heroine herself.  She had burning red hair, and several tattoos.  She had on an apron that concealed what was around her hips, but given her bare midriff, he suspected she wore a skimpy bikini to match her clients.  It would only make sense, he told himself hopefully.

“God damn,” he whispered to himself softly.  “Have I hit the motherfucking mother lode…”

But best of all, better than the quality and volume of jiggling flesh on display, was the fact that there was not a single dude in sight.  He was the sole male to have penetrated into the best-kept pussy hunting ground in all of Delta City… and inside his speedos, he throbbed eagerly at the thought.

Realizing that the doors would close soon enough, and that he would look like a creep if he remained inside too long, Star God finally sauntered out of the elevator.  The ladies, still locked in their own conversations, didn’t seem to notice in the slightest.  Even the bartender, glancing up and raising an eyebrow, didn’t look at him directly – but kept her attention on the glass she was polishing.  Not intimidated in the slightest, Miles rolled up to the bar about ten feet down from Ms. American’s idly-swaying and bikini-clad rump.  The bartender ignored him for a few seconds more, as was their way, then finally allowed him to catch her eye and sauntered on over.

Folding her hands on the bar, she looked him up and down from his square jaw down to his broad chest, and the top of his little speedos.

“You sure you belong here?” she asked.

Her voice had the slightly raspy draw of a woman who was used to having a cigarette in her mouth.  Star God barely noticed because, sneaking a peek up and over the bar, he was finally able to confirm that she was just wearing a black bikini bottom behind her apron.  He admired her crotch for just a moment, then got his eyes back to her face.

“Oh, yeah,” he purred.  He settled up close to the bar, and smiled at her.  “Double sure,” he said.

The bartender was chewing gum – probably to delay her need for her next smoke.  She gnawed at her wad for a few seconds, giving him another once-over.  “We don’t get a lot of dudes in here, is all,” she said.

“Why?” Miles asked.  A momentary panic flashed through him.  “This isn’t a lesbo bar is it?” he asked.

The bartender chewed a few times, and then shrugged again – once again distracting him briefly, this time with the titanic swaying of her bra-cup-straining rack behind her black apron.  “No,” she admitted.  “My ladies just come here to not be hassled is all,” she said.

Star God smiled.  That was a bitch-shield he’d had thrown up against him plenty – and knew how to destroy with ease.

“Oh, I’m the opposite of a hassle, sweety,” he purred smoothly.  Reaching into his belt, he pulled out a thick wad of bills.  Coming from a long line of West Texas oil money, cash was never something that gave Miles much concern.  He tossed several bills out onto the bar, in front of her belly-button.  “Now why don’t you give me three shots of tequila, sweetheart?” he asked.

The bartender raised an eyebrow.  She looked down at his wad of cash for a few moments, as if she’d found a dead mouse on her bar, then back up to his face.  “You said three shots?” she asked.

He nodded, grinning.

Turning her head, the bartender looked at the two buxom bikini-clad heroines standing a few feet from him down the bar.  Then she looked back at him.  “You absolutely sure that's what you want, stud?” she asked.

He smiled back.  “Yep,” he said, confidently.

The bartender shrugged, and took his cash.  “Your funeral,” she cooed.  Turning around – giving him a glorious view of her ass jiggling before him in a tiny black thong – she got down three glasses, lifted a bottle, and poured three shots.  Turning back around, she slid them across the bar to him, one by one.  Then she picked up his cash.  Without counting it, or bothering to give him any change, she lifted it up – and slipped it down between her breasts.

Miles stared.  Even though he had money, he knew when he was being ripped off.  He had flopped down the wad to impress, and was now overpaying by a factor of a hundred.  But as he watched the thick wad of bills slip deeper and deeper inside her cleavage, he found he could not object.

“Keep the change,” he said belatedly, just before the last glimpse of the wad vanished inside her deep jiggling cleavage.   Then, struggling slightly, he managed to gather up all three shots.

“Of course,” the bartender cooed and, leaning upon crossed arms upon the bar, without lifting a finger to help, watched him.

Carrying the three shots balanced in his big mitts, Star God strutted down the bar and slid in just behind Ms. Americana’s awesome, thong-panty-swelling ass.  “Hey, ladies,” he said, plunking the shots down on the bar beside them.  “This round’s on me – just to say hi!”

Ms. Americana turned slowly to face him… which, in the process, brought the sleek curves of her scoop-front panties and the deep jiggling cleavage between her enormous bra-straining breasts fully to bear before his lustful gaze.  Lifting her chin, she folded her arms beneath her titanic breasts and glared at him.  Behind her, Got Gal lifted her gorgeous blonde head and watched over her comrade’s shoulder with interest.

“No,” Ms. Americana said, decisively.

Star God’s square-jawed face quivered very very briefly.  But if rejection bothered him that much, he’d never gotten half as much pussy as he actually had.  Moments after her firm refusal, his confident smirk returned – broader than ever.  He allowed himself to steal a brief downward glance, taking in the lusciously sculpted and fertile curves that lay beneath her skimpy star-spangled panties, reminding himself what it was all about.  ‘Eyes on the prize’ he thought, then got back up to look her right in the eye.  

“Aww, c’mon,” he cooed, eyes looking right back into her gorgeous, glaring masked face without the slightest sign of fear or shame.  “Lighten up a little, Americana,” he said.  “You ladies can’t keep us super-dudes out forever!”

Ms. Americana raised her already elevated chin even higher.  “Why not?” she asked.

“’Cause let’s face it… even the strongest lady needs a little help once in a while,” he replied.  He smiled – and stole another brief glance down at her straining tiny bikini.  “Even if it ain’t fightin’ crime,” he cooed.  “Now, c’mon, babe, were all  on the same side here.  Let a nice man buy you a drink for once and just relax, beautiful.”

Ms. Americana glared at him for a few seconds.  Then, slowly, her furious expression softened.  Her full red lips twisted up, and she rocked her arms back and forth – making her titanic shapely tits bounce and jostle beautifully atop them.  “Fine,” she purred, at last.  “I’ll let you buy me a drink.”  Stretching out a red-gloved finger, she pointed at the three shots as if about to tell him his fly was open.  “But I don’t drink those filthy things,” she said.  “So, if you want me to let you buy me the kind of drink I actually do like, then I’ll need you to finish those off first… right now!”

Behind her, Got Gal also smirked with pleasure at the idea.  “And you have to buy me  one too!” she called, licking her lips eagerly, and lifting a finger to wave at him coyly over her friend’s shoulder.

Star God hesitated… but only for a moment.  “Sure,” he said, his confident grin returning.  ‘Eyes on the prize’ he thought.  Reaching down, he seized one of the shots.

“You have ten seconds,” Ms. Americana said.  Her hips wiggled eagerly, her skimpy swooping panties swaying with them.  “Ten… nine…”

With a gulp, Star God hurriedly lifted one glass after another and guzzled them down.  ‘If she’s expecting me to gag on tequila,’ he thought, as it rolled down his throat, ‘they don’t know this cowboy!’  He slammed the last one down on the bar, right beside Ms. Americana’s panties, with two seconds to spare.

“One,” Ms. Americana said, hands on her hips, and then stopped.  She smirked.  “Good boy,” she purred.  Reaching back, she slid her hands up and down her buxom, scantily-clad ass.  “You know,” she purred, “we don’t have anywhere in these little costumes to keep any cash.  Maybe having a man around is good for something after all!”  Turning to grin at each other, she and Got Gal shared a snickering laugh.

“Glad… glad to be of service, ladies,” Star God said.  Though his tolerance was as superhuman as the rest of him, three shots in ten seconds left a lot of vapors rising up inside his head.  He briefly wobbled on his booted feet as the last shot of tequila pounded back and forth through his brain like a gang of banditos rapin’ and ridin’ back and forth across the El Paso border.  Then, gradually, the light headedness passed and he resumed his customary grin.  “What’ll it be?” he asked, confidently.

Raising a golden-gloved hand he summoned the bartender back over.  Buxom hips rolling, she approached with a smirk.  A minute later Ms. Americana and Got Gal each had another pair of girly drinks resting beside their skimpy panties, while Star God had a longneck of beer beside him… and the waitress was smiling slyly as she slowly pushed another big wad of his money, worth three times what the drinks cost, down between her breasts.  Star God stared momentarily – but lifting his drink to his lips, said nothing.  He didn’t want to harsh the mood while he got his mack on with Ms. Americana.

“So,” the buxom Queen of Justice herself purred.  Leaning against the bar, she swirled her drink and smirked with relish up at the tall hero.  “What brings you to Delta City...  Star God was it?”

“Well…” he said, “you know, the usual.”  He smirked.  “Truth, justice, and the rule of law.”

“I see,” she said.  Her gaze turned piercing.  “And you couldn’t uphold those things in... whatever bumfuck city it is you come from?”

“I could,” he admitted.  “But I felt Delta City calling to me.  So many monsters, so many villains.  So many super-ladies, laboring so hard… in need of a real man to help them.”

Got Gal rolled her eyes.  “Bullshit,” she said.

Ms. Americana glanced over, a bemused smile on her lips, then looked back at Star God.  “I’m inclined to agree,” she purred, her buxom hips swaying slowly back and forth.  “But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.  You care about the heroines of Delta City?  Deeply, truly, care for us?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said.  He gripped his beer tight.  This was not going as well as he had hoped.  But given the insane quality of the view he was enjoying, down between the massively straining cups of her enormous bra arrayed right in front of him, if would still have taken a herd of horses pulling at him to make him disengage from his target.

“Care to make a wager on it?” Americana purred.  Seeing where his gaze was repeatedly dropping, she lifted up the strap of one bra cup and gave her huge right breast a little jiggling bounce… with mouth-watering results.  “My bra against your shirt?”

In the blink of a booby-filled eye, every ounce of doubt vanished from Miles’s head.  A huge smirk spread across his lips.  “Sure thing, babe,” he said.  “I’m up for anything.”  ‘Especially if it gets me at those tits…’ he thought.  His dick, which had shriveled up slightly under her relentless shit-testing, was instantly at full throbbing attention within his little super-briefs.  "What do you want me to do?"

“Simple,” Ms. Americana purred.  Leaning over, she pointed at one of the four heroines clustered around the table, up against the glittering skyline-displaying windows – the closest one, whose magnificently taut yet projecting buns were swaying back and forth as if for their viewing pleasure.  “Tell me... what's her name?” she asked.

Star God turned around, and looked her over.  Naturally, now that they were not under direct female observation, his eyes dipped downward for a luxuriant detour around the oblivious beauty’s body first.  He took in her giant ass, straining against a skimpy costume, and the staggering quantity of side-boob she was showing off as she leaned over her table.  Then his gaze, at last, slid higher, to study the side of her face.

“Uh…” he said.  He blinked his eyes, trying to clear them.  Suddenly it was as if her costume and her facial features were shifting back and forth before his eyes.  One moment she seemed blonde, another redhead.  The low light didn’t help.  ‘Fuck it…’ he thought, after he realized he’d been looking for several seconds before the two waiting heroines without giving an answer.  He took a shot.  “Amazing Babe?” he guessed.

Americana hissed, and shook her head.  “Actually… that’s Alpha Woman,” she said.

He turned and looked again.  For a few seconds longer than strictly necessary.  So it was.  Considering how many times he’d beat off to pics of each and every member of the Delta City pack, he would have sworn he would recognize that amazing MILF-tastic body wiggling back and forth in its insanely skimpy one-piece anywhere.

“How can you claim to be interested in anything but our tits and asses,” Got Gal purred, running a finger around and around the rim of her drink as she stood behind Americana, “if you can’t even tell one of us from another?!”

Turning back to them, he shrugged.  He neither showed nor felt much concern.  “It was dark,” he said.

“Whatever,” Ms. Americana purred, smirking.  “You lost.  So lose your shirt.”

Lifting his masked head high, Star God smirked right back.  “Sure thing, baby,” he said.  Letting his eyes glance down as he bent over slightly, he stared for several seconds at the crotch of her tiny panties.  ‘It’ll be your virtue’s funeral,’ he thought with relish, eyeing her bikini-clad pussy eagerly, ‘once you get a look at my chest.’  Reaching down, he peeled up his skin-tight golden-starburst-emblazoned top, exposing his six pack, then his gargantuan pecs.  Stretching the neck out wide he managed to lift it off over his head then peeled it down behind him.

As the huge, muscular hero stripped, the ladies at the far table finally seemed to take notice.  They had spotted the male intruder earlier of course, but had left him to his conversation with Americana.  Now, lifting their heads up, they looked on eagerly, their eyes glittering in delight, as they saw him strip.

“Whoooo!” Lady Midnight called, her dark face glittering with delight.

Sticking two fingers in her lips, Wolf Woman gave him a piercing wolf-whistle.

“Nice bod, boy!” Hexanna said, holding her staff to one side and ogling his chest with relish.

For just a moment, Star God blushed, feeling suddenly more like a paid stripper at a bachelorette party than a mighty conquering hero.  Then his customary confidence swelled back up, along with his muscles as he flexed.  

“Thanks,” Star God purred, giving them a wink over his bulging bicep.  Then he let the spandex top drop.  He turned back around and found both Americana and Got Gal were also ogling his six pack and his gigantic pectorals.  ‘Ahh, yeah…’ he thought, smirking.  ‘Just drop those panties, babes, ‘cause they are as good as mine now,’ he thought.

“You like what you see, ladies?” he asked, purring.

“Yes,” Ms. Americana cooed, making eyes at him.  But her smirk remained in place.  “But I thought you were auditioning to be my hero, not my pool boy.”

A brief tremor crossed Star God’s handsome face.  Then he tilted his square-jawed chin back.  “I can be anything you want me to be, babe,” he assured her.

“Oh, really?” she cooed.

“Yeah,” he said, defensively.  “I ain’t just another hunk, babe.  I rolled up the Border Banditos like it was nothing.  I took down Doctor Weird with one hand literally tied behind my back.  And I punched the Red Robot so hard, he’s still re-learning BASIC.”

Grinning, Ms. Americana raised a hand and waved his words aside.  “I get it, I get it, you’re a real tough hombre,” she said.  Her smirk broadened.  “But that doesn’t mean you’re tougher than me.”

Star God stared at her, and smirked.  “Than you?” he asked.  “No offense, Ms. Americana.  I’m sure you’re very tough, for a lady.  But there’s no way you can match up to a real man like me.”  He flexed again, just to show her what he meant, his massive pecs and biceps bulging.

“Really?” Ms. Americana purred.  Her eyes glittered.  “You sound confident,” she said, running a finger teasingly around and around the lip of her glass as her eyes slowly slid up and down his body, admiring the goods.  Her smirk broadened.  “You want to put that to the test?” she asked.

Folding his arms across his massive bare chest, Star God smirked right back at her.  “Any time, baby,” he purred.

“How about another wager, then?”  she asked.  She gestured down his shirtless body.  “You already lost your top, so you’ll have to wager those tights next.  Meanwhile, I’ll gladly put up my bra again,” she said.  Slipping one finger under her strap, she briefly tugged it upwards, making her gargantuan right breast jiggle and wobble delightfully before him.

“And mine,” Got Gal added in, strutting around Americana with what was left of her drink in her hand, to eagerly ogle the hero’s massively muscular lower body.  Instead of touching her bra she elected to wobble her shoulders back and forth, giving her own massive rack a deliberate heart-stopping shake.

Star God raised his eyebrows, and smirked.  ‘Two pairs of ta-tas for the price of one?’ he thought, as he admired the way both heroines’ gigantic breasts sloshed and jostled in their straining wagered bras.  ‘This night gets better and better!’  “Suuure,” he purred, eagerly.  “And what’ll we bet on this time?  Not more trivia, I hope!”

“Trivia… like my friends’ names?” Ms. Americana asked pointedly, an eyebrow raised.  She gave him a piercing look for a second.  Then her sultry smirk rapidly returned.  “But, no,” she cooed.  “You wanna prove you’re tough, Miles, we do it the old fashioned way.  We drink.”  Leaning over on the counter, she spoke to the bartender.  “Two bottles of whiskey,” she said, and then nodded towards Star God.  “On him.”

The bartender turned to Star God, expectantly.  He grinned.  “Oh, you don’t know what you’re in for,” he said, taking one last look at her sloshing rack with relish.  Reaching into his thick belt he pulled out another wad of cash, and slid it across.  “Done,” he said.

The bartender produced two 375ml bottles of Tennessee whiskey.  “First to choke or last to finish loses,” she said, as she folded her arms beneath her giant breasts and watched eagerly.

“Easy money,” Star God said.  ‘Or titty’ he thought, smirking.  Looking over, he admired her tits as well – they were nearly as nice as the superhuman, super-bra-straining pair jiggling back and forth in front of him.  “You want in on this too?” he asked her.

The bartender smirked… and slid one finger down between her shimmying spheres to tuck his money deeper down into the quivering silky crevice between them.  Even given her huge tits, he had given up so much it was getting harder and harder to keep entirely concealed inside her cleavage.  “Maybe next time,” she cooed.

“Ready, set,” Got Gal said, drawing his attention back to what he was doing.  “Chug!” she cried – just a hint of a decade-past career as her sorority’s chief party girl creeping into her voice.

As one, Americana and Star God raised their bottles to their lips and started chugging.  Throwing his square-jawed head back, the handsome hero started to drink.  He could gulp whiskey like water, and started chugging it down.  ‘Those bitches’ boobies might as well jiggle their way right into my hands,’ he thought, smirking.  ‘And from there, it’s just a short jump down into their pussies – and then their beds, one by one!’  As the thought swirled in his head his huge dick twitched, eagerly, swollen against the front of his briefs.

But unfortunately he was throbbing in triumph a little too soon.  Suddenly, in mid-gulp, when he was only a third of the way into the bottle, he felt the burn soar up his throat.  It was like he had swallowed it wrong.  He trembled and gurgled, trying to hold it.  But at last, he couldn’t.  With a gurgling groan the bottle burst from his lips and his arm slammed it, trembling, back onto the bar.  Excess whiskey poured down his chest.  Turning he gaped at the bottle in shock, seeing more than two thirds of its contents still sloshing inside, as if mocking him.

The bartender smirked, enjoying the sight, while below her huge titties jiggled around his money.  “Looks like a choke to me,” she purred.

Meanwhile, before him, Ms. Americana was guzzling down her bottle like it was her morning Evian.  As he gaped in shock the last few ounces swirled around the bottom and poured down effortlessly between her luscious lips, leaving hers drained bone dry.  With a satisfied smack of her lips she drew the bottle away, sighed, and laid it back on the bar beside his still damningly-full container.  She stroked each briefly with her fingers, and looked up at his gaping face and whiskey-soaked chest with a huge smirk.

“You lose,” she purred, fingertips stroking his half-full bottle with relish.

Star God gaped back, and slowly shook his square-jawed head.  “I… I ain’t never seen a woman who could outdrink me…” he gasped, eyes sliding up and down her buxom bikini-clad body in awe.  

Ms. Americana’s smirk broadened.  “Well, that must mean you haven’t known many ladies at all,” she teased.  Her eyes sparkled.  “But believe it or not, you lost, boy.  So… let’s see those legs!”

“Yeah!” a brash female cry came from just behind him.

“Take it off!” another ribald, high-pitched voice said.

With a gasp, Star God whirled his head, his eyes widening to see the four ladies who had been clustered around the shadowed table now fanned out behind and around him.  Having observed his chest stripping and tights betting they had lost interest in whatever they had been discussing prior to his arrival, and come over to join the audience.  All of them wore huge smirks upon their lips – and, given the size of their bikinis and the bountiful measurements of their bodies, not much else.

“You heard the ladies,” the bartender purred at him, over a swaying rack stuffed with his cash.  “You lost.  Pay up!”

But for a moment, Star God hesitated.  Though he had stood down hordes of armed criminals, bizarre super-villains, and hideous monsters, somehow being surrounded by a gang of leering super-beauties made him feel light headed and momentarily dazed.  “W-wait…” he gasped.

In that moment of hesitation, bold Ms. Americana lost patience.

“He’s stalling ladies,” she purred.  “Go ahead and strip him down!”

“Wait!” Star God gulped, again.  But it was too late.  

With a unified cry of predatory glee, three separate super-heroines suddenly fell upon his legs from behind.  Cackling with delight, Lady Midnight, Wolf Woman, and Alpha Woman all seized a hold of his tights at once.  Star God gasped, as he felt their slender long-nailed fingers digging in under his bold tights.  Then, as one, with loud squeals of pleasure, the ladies ripped them off.  Star God gaped downwards in shock as, within seconds, the coverings of his muscular legs were torn away in shreds, leaving him naked in between the tops of his big boots and the bottom of his bulging little briefs.

“Nice legs!” Wolf Woman purred.  She licked her lips, eyes running up and down his muscular naked legs from the cuffs of his boots to his luridly bulging package.

“Nice butt!” Lady Midnight cooed, her eyes glittering as they ate up his projecting backside.

“Nice briefs!” Alpha Woman laughed.  Reaching a finger down inside his little speedo, she pulled it as far from his wiggling backside as it would go, then let it snap back with a cackle.

Miles gasped, and squirmed, as the clustered heroines mocked him and felt him up.  The abuse caused a strange corkscrew feeling to go up and down the big penis straining against the inside of his tiny briefs – the little garment that, along with his boots and belt, was among the few things he still had on.  To his surprise, at that trapped feeling his big thing just swelled up even bigger, and throbbed even more in anticipation.  But, holding his square-jawed head high, he let a smirk spread across his manly lips and did his best to roll with it.

“Thanks, ladies,” he purred, even as his backside wiggled slightly before their leering eyes, still stinging with the feeling of his snapped briefs.

Smirking, Got Gal leaned in close to Ms. Americana until her luscious lips hovered just an inch from the buxom brunette’s ear.  “I’ll say this,” she whispered, her gaze fixed to the towering hero as he did his best to remain cool and confident, even as he found himself surrounded by a swarm of muscle-stroking, leering, cat-calling heroines.   “He’s got balls.”

Ms. Americana’s own smirk broadened.  “I certainly hope so…” she cooed, eyes briefly darting down to his bulging briefs before darting back up to his square-jawed face.

Seeing Ms. Americana’s eyes dip, Star God’s own smirk broadened and he felt his own confidence swelling back up again… along with other things.  ‘Hold it together, dude,’ he thought to himself.  ‘She’s getting more DTF by the second.  You just stay in the game and keep your eyes on that pussy prize, and you’ll be inside her soon enough.  Then we’ll see who has the last laugh!’

“See anything you like down there, baby?” he purred, calling her on her naughty downward glance.

Rather than blushing, Ms. Americana dragged a gloved finger back and forth across her full, red, smirking lips, and turning them back up let her eyes glitter up into his.  “Maybe…” she purred.  Reaching down, she slid a thumb into the hip-strap of her skimpy little panties, and briefly pulled it away from her flesh.  “How about you?” she cooed.

‘Yes!  YES!’ Star God exulted in his skull, his eyes glued to her star-spangled crotch as her tiny panties streeetched taut around it.  His huge dick instantly went from mostly to fully and achingly erect within his briefs, pressing so tight against them that it seemed on the verge of pushing through his waistband up top.  Then he watched her hand slowly relax her hip strap back down onto her buxom hip, letting her sleek skimpy panties once more assume their arcing place firmly atop her fertile loins.

‘Fuck it,’ Star God thought, throwing caution to the wind.  ‘Stop beating around her bush and just go right in,’ he told himself.  “Might be something down there I’m interested in,” he admitted, in a slow drawling purr, thumbs in his belt.

Ms. Americana smirked back.  “Oh, I believe that,” she purred.  Her buxom hips, clad in her tiny panties and little else, swayed slowly back and forth before his gaze.  “I just don’t believe you were ever interested in anything else!” she laughed, teasingly.

Star God shrugged his broad, massive shoulders.  “Whatever you have to tell yourself, babe,” he said.

“So how about we stop tickling around the edges,” Ms. Americana said, “and just settle this with one last wager.  I challenge you to an arm-wrestling contest.  If you can show you’re stronger than me, then not only will I admit that the Queen of Justice needs a man to set her straight… I’ll strip for you, right here and now, and then take you back to my bedroom to let you, ah… put me in my place.”  Her eyes danced up and down his body, and her naughty smirk grew until it covered her gorgeous masked face.  “But if I win,” she purred, “if our big strong man gets beaten by a little girl… then you not only have to drop those silly little super-briefs, but you agree to be our slave for the entire evening.”

Star God stared at her, briefly frozen in shock… except for his gargantuan dick, which pulsed and twitched with glorious jubilation inside his straining briefs.  ‘Stupid sluts never know how to construct a bet…’ he thought, inside his head.  ‘Being a ‘slave’ to a bunch of horny super-babes?  Even if I lose, I win!’

But he tried not to let his eager internal elation show upon his chiseled face.  “You sure you want to make that bet, babe?” he asked.  Gargantuan muscles rippling, he lifted up one arm and flexed it before her, letting his enormous biceps bulge almost as much as his over-stuffed briefs.  All around him the assembled super-ladies licked their lips, whistled, and leered, as the muscular hero posed in their midst.  “I know you’re strong and all,” he said, “for a woman… but it still ain’t exactly a fair fight.  I don’t want to hurt you.”

Ms. Americana wiggled back and forth before him, and grinned.  “Oh, I’m sure you don’t…” she purred.

“You could just take those bra and panties off in advance, and make it easier on yourself,” Star God drawled, his eyes glued to her massive, sloshing, barely-contained breasts.

“Thanks for the offer,” Ms. Americana purred, her grin broadening.  “But I’ll take my chances.”

Star God shrugged his enormous shoulders.  “Alright, little lady,” he said.  Reaching out, he laid his elbow on the bar, his ripped bare forearm extended.  “Your funeral.”

‘Funeral for your tender pussy’ he thought, as he stood ready before her in his little briefs, his dick throbbing wildly in its leather prison.  His eyes dipped once more to the crotch of her sleek skimpy panties, and he smirked.  ‘Ain’t no other dude’s little dick ever gonna satisfy it again, once I’m done with it!’ he thought, exultantly.  ‘Then, once I take you down, the other bikini-clad honeys will come crawling up one by one, to get a taste of a real hero at last!’

“Likewise,” Americana purred.  Reaching up, she laid her own elbow on the table, and let his massive paw envelop hers.

“Alright, Lady and Gentleman,” the buxom bartender purred, assuming her customary role as officiant for such disputes.  “You know the rules.  First elbow off the bar, or first hand on it, loses.  Ready?”

“Born ready,” Star God drawled.  His eyes remain glued to Americana’s huge breasts, as they jiggled back and forth before him in her giant straining bra.  ‘Once I have her to myself I’m gonna make this slut wrap those around me, and suck away at the tip to start off,’ he thought, eagerly.

“Likewise,” Ms. Americana purred, her buxom hips squirming eagerly in her tiny panties.

“GO!” the bartender commanded.

Instantly, both combatants tensed, palms surging into one another as their muscles unleashed themselves at full power.  Under the pressure of Ms. Americana’s clenched red glove Star God’s huge leather-sheathed hand jerked back several inches before, with a gasp and a surge of his giant trembling biceps, he stabilized and managed to hold her fast.

“Ha!” Ms. Americana laughed.  Even though her face quivered and her breath panted slightly, a huge grin spread across her luscious features as she gazed down upon their locked fingers, his hand trembling against hers bent almost halfway back to the bar.  “Not so confident now are you, big boy?”

Star God gasped deep, his muscles rippling with the strain.  But even so, a huge smirk slowly spread across his lips.  “Nah,” he said, gazing down into her gorgeous yet trembling face.  “I was holding back…” he purred.  His huge muscles suddenly jerked.  Ms. Americana gasped, her trembling and horrified jaw dropping, as her quivering hand was slowly forced back up vertical… and kept going.  “After all,” Star God’s handsome face purred down at her, “I didn’t want to hurt a lady.”

Eyes blinking wide, Ms. Americana whimpered and gasped.  But, even as she struggled mightily she could only watch, lips quivering in horror, as her locked fist was slowly forced past the midpoint by his mighty paw, and began to gradually bend backward.  “No!” she gasped, eyes wide.  Her buxom mighty belt-clad body trembled and jiggled mightily before him, but could not seem to stop his slow and inexorable advance to pussy-demolishing victory.  “It… it can’t be!”

“Sorry, babe,” Star God purred, as he gradually forced her hand back further and further.  He laughed as, based on the sudden silence all around him, he realized that her shapely sisters had finally found something that made them shut up and listen to a man.  ‘Once I get done pounding some respect into their alpha fem, the rest will come crawling in one by one, peel down their panties, and beg to get done by a real man too,’ he thought, as his proud cock pulsed with relish inside his straining speedo.  ‘That’s how it always works,’ he thought.  ‘Tame the lioness and her pride is yours.’  He took a moment to glance about, seeing the incredible array of voluptuous scantily-clad beauties squirming in consternation around him, and briefly allowed himself to imagine each of their wet pussies wrapped around his mammoth cock, as he hammered them into oblivion inside their respective fortresses of servitude.

Then he brought his gaze forward again, to look into Americana’s straining, sweaty face.  ‘I bet that’s exactly what her face is going to look like tonight,’ he thought to himself, pulsing with relish, ‘when we have our little rematch… and she finds out how outclassed she is a second time!’

“Guess there’s still some areas where no lady is a match for a man!” he said, aloud.

Ms. Americana moaned in horror.  Sweat ran down her cheeks, even as they blushed in humiliation to finally have met her match.  “You… you really wouldn’t hurt a lady… would you?” she asked, desperately.

“Normally?  Never,” Star God purred, smirking down at her.

As her hand was slowly bent back past the 45 degree mark, and hovered just inches off the bar, Ms. Americana gasped in horror.  “Well… if… if you fuck me…” she moaned, “your… your giant dick will wreck my vagina.  I… I can see how big it is…” she said.  She licked her lips, and blinked up into his face in horror.  “So… if you really won’t hurt a lady… sh-shouldn’t you let me win?!” she begged.

Gazing down at her trembling, hourglass-shaped and scantily-clad body with relish over their locked and trembling fists, Star God chuckled softly.  “Sorry, babe,” he purred softly, eyes boring down into the gargantuan bra-squeezed cleavage that heaved and jiggled spectacularly just behind her trembling arm.  “Too late.”

Ms. Americana moaned, her open lips quivering.  Her gloves hovered, struggling, an inch above the bar.  Her voluptuous fertile hips, clad only in the skimpiest of panties, wiggled back and forth in dismay atop her stool… as if in anticipation of the devastation that would soon be wrought up inside them.  “Please…” she whimpered, her full and luscious lips trembling.  “Please… have mercy…”

Star God chuckled, savoring his impending victory.  His huge penis throbbed, eagerly, inside his straining briefs, amidst the sea of gaping watching heroines.  His eyes bored right into her little wiggling panties, to the sleek delicate mound nestled between her sculpted squirming thighs, and he sneered.  “Sorry, bitch,” he purred.  “Pussy is the one thing to which I never show mercy…”

Struggling, whimpering, Ms. Americana gasped in shock.  Then, slowly, her full red lips twisted into a gigantic wicked sneer.  Her red-gloved hand, which had been trembling less than an inch above the bar, suddenly went rock-still, despite the straining surging of his mighty bulging biceps.

“Well, well, well,” Ms. Americana cooed, into the shocked hero’s face, licking her lips as he struggled pathetically to force her further… and utterly failed.  “At least I know how much to show your dick, big boy!”  Then, with a delighted cackle, as effortlessly as she would flick off a light switch, Ms. Americana brought the gaping hero’s arm whirling up, past his broad naked chest, to slam way past the level of the bar… so fast he nearly got dislodged off his seat.

Gasping in shock, Star God raised his massive defeated arm, and rubbed its sore near-dislocated musculature in shock.  “H…how?!” he whimpered, staring at it.

Standing smugly before him, Ms. Americana put her hands upon her curvy buxom hips and sneered.  “Guess you’re just not man enough for me, hero,” she sneered.

All around him, the watching heroines pointed at the hulking defeated male and squealed with laughter.  Their little scantily-clad bottoms wiggled back and forth with delight, as they slapped each other’s shoulders, their glittering eyes running up and down the trapped, trembling, underwear-clad beefcake with delighted glee.

“You lost,” the redheaded bartender cooed, her own huge tits shaking just above the bar as, arms folded beneath them, she too allowed her eyes to rove up and down the defeated hunk’s body with eager relish.  “Now, strip!”

His square-jawed head rising up in shock Star God slowly looked around the wall of pointing, laughing heroines.  His body trembled… his huge schlong still throbbing, eagerly, against the insides of his little briefs which, beside his mask and boots, were now virtually all he wore.  His lip trembled.  “But…” he said, gaping at Americana’s smugly posed body in shock.  “But…”

Standing before him, Ms. Americana smirked.  “If you had won,” she asked, “would you have let me keep my panties?”  Hooking a thumb through her tiny bottoms, she pulled one hip away from her curvy flesh, as if to demonstrate.

Star God stared at her tiny panty, stretched away from the heroine’s fertile rounded hips, in awe.  “No,” he admitted softly, shaking his head.

“Then strip for us, you big loser,” Ms. Americana said, letting her own panties snap mockingly back into place upon her loins, and leering at him with relish.

Star God trembled.  Then, with a deep groan, he realized he had no choice.  Bending low before the cackling, leering heroines, he slipped his hands into his little briefs.  Then he froze.  Macho man that he was, he had never thought the prospect of being naked before women would scare him.  Though it still throbbed at full extension within its prison, his huge loins suddenly tingled with fear at the prospect of being nude before the horde of scantily but still firmly bikini-clad beauties.  But he had come way too far to back down now.  With a last groan he bent lower and started pulling his little briefs down.

“Ooh!  Nice butt!” Lady Midnight purred, as his speedos slid down to expose his posterior.  Miles groaned slightly, but kept stripping.  Moments later his briefs dropped down onto his thighs, exposing his balls.

“God damn!” Wolf Woman cooed, as the hero’s huge balls came out to dangle between his thighs.  “Look at those giant nuts!” she said.  Not content just to look, she ducked a naughty hand in and gave the hero’s grapefruit-sized balls a little pinch, as they bulged between his massive thighs.

“Agh!” the mighty hero gasped.  Trembling in shock, he froze, with his hands in his briefs halfway down his giant thighs.  His dick was so long its tip was still cradled in the half-descended briefs.

That wouldn’t do.  Licking her lips hungrily, Alpha Woman ate up the glimpses of immense veiny shaft she was getting between his legs.  “Hurry up, hero!” she laughed.  Swinging her hand forward, she swatted him on his uplifted bottom.  “Keep going!” she said.

“Ugh!” Star God groaned.  But, hands trembling, he acted like a good hero should and did as he was told.  Bending low, he brought his super-hero speedos all the way down his legs and slipped them, with some difficulty, over the tops of his big boots.  The ladies behind him snickered, their eyes lit up, as they watched his huge naked dick dangling back and forth before them, between his legs.

At last, with a groan, Star God lurched back up to his feet.  His briefs remained wrapped, humiliatingly, around the ankles of his boots, hobbling him like a gelded horse.  As he rose back up his giant dick, free from the confines of the little briefs, rose up before him to pulse and twitch eagerly – pointing directly up at the center of Ms. Americana’s broad and fertile belly, as if instinctively yet fruitlessly seeking its natural prey.

“Ooooh!” Ms. Americana purred.  "What a huge penis!" she said, her eyes lighting up with delight, as they traced up and down him.

“God damn!” Got Gal whispered, one hand rising up to caress a finger nervously along the edge of her giant bra, in awe.

“Holy shit…” the bartender gasped, lifting her top-heavy body up on both arms and craning her head to get a better look, a huge smirk on her lips.

"That beast could probably satisfy a dozen super-heroines... and still be ready for more!" Wolf Woman said, staring down in awe from his muscular naked shoulder.

No longer protected by his little briefs, the hero’s dick had revealed itself to be a fourteen-inch monster, with thickness to match.  His enormous grapefruit-sized balls hung down beneath it, hairy and equally naked.  Licking her lips, Ms. Americana’s eyes ate up the huge pulsing beast before her.  

Then, with a smirk upon her full red lips, she reached out a gloved hand, and wrapped it around his enormous shaft, just below his cock-head.

“Oh!” Star God yelped.  He gaped down in disbelief at both the sight and the sensations of his huge tool twitching helplessly between the super-heroine’s fingers.   His mammoth penis pulsed with dominated delight, trapped within her clutching palm.

Gasping with pure instinct, his hands suddenly jerked forward to try and protect his huge precious package.  But when they were halfway to seizing her hands and yanking them off him, he suddenly realized how weak that would look, and froze.  His big mighty male hands ended up hovering to either side of where Americana's clutched him.  Her slender fingers were gently stroking his naked cock – while his twitched helplessly but ultimately did absolutely nothing to protect his giant yet defenseless schlong.

At the sight, all the ladies laughed, uproariously.

“What’s the matter?” Americana cooed.  “Isn’t this what you wanted – getting a super-woman to play with your titanic toy?” she asked.  Blowing him a mocking kiss, she stroked her red-gloved fingers slowly up and down his throbbing penis.

Star God’s lips quivered – but he didn’t manage to make a sound, as Americana’s fingertips caressed the enormous sensitive veins running along his shaft.

“Now, now, now,” Lady Midnight cooed, consolingly, to the dumb-struck hero.  

Reaching around his massive naked torso she and Wolf Woman each grabbed one of the hero’s wrists with one hand.  

“Don’t be scared,” Wolf Woman purred, smirking.

Together, they started pulling his hands back and away from his Americana-controlled penis.  As they did so, Star God groaned softly.  His massive muscles twitched, resisting their feminine pull ever so briefly.  In that brief contest it was clear that if he really wanted to, he could have tossed them both aside.  But with their pretty faces both smirking up at him from beside his massive shoulders, he could not resist.  The cost to his ego was just too great.  A slight blush upon his square-jawed cheeks he dutifully gave in to their tugging and teasing.  He allowed his hands to be dragged around to be held behind his back, leaving his heroic cock thrust forth and defenseless in Ms. Americana’s power.

“Mmm…” the mighty heroine purred, as she stroked up and down the huge twitching beast.  “Are you proud of this big thing, hero?” she asked.  Bringing in a second hand, she kept her first clutched tight to the midpoint of his shaft, while the fingers of her second caressed teasingly around his enormous flared cock-head.  “I bet you thought you’d use it to tame each and every one of us heroines, didn’t you?” she cooed, her voluptuous hips, still clad in her tiny panties, rolling back and forth before him.  “Did you relish the idea of using its girth to destroy all our pussies?” she prodded.

“Ungh!” Star God whimpered.  He squirmed.  His boots were hobbled together by the little super-briefs stretched between his ankles.  He gasped and shuddered, struggling to think of something to say, as the unfamiliar helplessness of his tool in Americana’s clutches sent tingles of excitement and fear shooting up and down both its own enormous length, and his massively muscular yet trapped and naked body.  He gurgled for a few seconds, gaping down in shock.  Then, he was on the verge of coming up with something to say, he got sidetracked yet again as Alpha Woman’s hand suddenly reached up between his legs, and seized hold of his enormous dangling balls.

“Oooh!” the mighty redhead cooed, her eyes glittering in delight, as she felt the hero’s gigantic swollen sperm-sacks bulging through her fingers.  They were so huge, she could barely contain even one of his giant balls in her wide-stretched palm – his huge left nut hanging down heavily against her fingertips as she hefted and squeezed his right.  “So big!” the redheaded heroine cooed, licking her luscious red lips.  “I bet this bad boy has got enough seed to impregnate a dozen women in one night!”

A huge smirk upon her lips, Ms. Americana stroked her hand up and down his huge shaft, and then resumed her position as interrogator-in-chief.  “Was that your plan, hero?” she cooed.  Keeping a tight grip on his tip she stroked her other hand down his massive shaft, and then squeezed tight about his base – while Alpha Woman continued to grope and fondle mercilessly at his enormous defenselessly-dangling balls.  “Did you bring those huge balls to Delta City, planning to leave your slimy cum inside each and every heroine’s belly?”  She stroked her fingertips back up his giant eagerly-twitching shaft to his tip, and smiled.  “You certainly seem to have enough, big boy,” she cooed, and licked her lips, eyeing him hungrily.  “I’ll bet the moment you’d bored of whispering sweet lies into our ears and adding new notches to your belt, you’d suddenly feel the call to charge off towards another city, with another bunch of big-breasted heroines to ‘save.’  Wouldn’t you?”

Star God gurgled and trembled in shock.  “I… I would never… that’s… that’s not what…” he said – struggling to keep his voice and body under control as his long dick twitched helplessly in Americana’s clutches, and Alpha Woman’s long sharp nails stroking teasingly around his nuts.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Americana cooed.  “We all know you bad boys can’t help thinking with your dicks – especially when you’ve got a nice big long one like this!”

Sliding her hands forward until she had a double-handed grip on his shaft, Americana smirked.  “C’mon,” she purred.  “Just admit it.”  Swinging her buxom hips forward, she caressed the sleekly curvy front of her little panties against the very tip of his cock.  Star God gasped in shock, his dick twitching wildly in her hands as he felt it pressed against her flesh.  “The only thing you came to Delta City to ‘save us’ from…” she cooed, rubbing the swooping front of her little panties back and forth against the pulsing underside of his mammoth swollen cock-head, “was the horror of not having had our pussies fucked by your big dick.  Wasn’t it?”

Star God groaned.  He watched in awe, as his giant cock-head twitched with glee at the dead center of Ms. Americana skimpy little panties.  A tiny squeeze of Alpha Woman’s hands around his balls finally forced an answer out of him.  “Yes…” he admitted, in a tiny voice – sounding more like a little boy called to the carpet before his mommy, than the rumbling voice the swaggering hero had used to throw his game at them when he first strutted in the bar.

Every last one of the ladies threw their heads back, and laughed.

“I knew it!” Got Gal laughed, hands upon her buxom hips and huge breasts swaying and sloshing spectacularly in her straining white bra, as she observed the humiliated hero with relish.

“Like anyone didn’t,” the bartender said – raising a hand to tuck the hero’s money deeper down inside her own staggering jiggling cleavage, as she enjoyed the sight of Americana’s fingers caressing controllingly up and down his big trapped penis.

“Filthy pervert!” Lady Midnight purred.  At the same time, one hand each keeping hold of the hero’s trembling wrists – which was scarcely necessary, when two other heroines already had a firm grip on his precious cock and giant balls respectively – she and Wolf Woman each reached their free hands around, and gave the naughty hero a mocking pinch on a cheek of his ass.

“Alright,” Ms. Americana purred – giving the hero’s captive penis a teasing stroke back and forth with her finger, just beneath his massive glans – “I think we’ve heard all we need to from this would-be savior, girls.  Ni-  I mean, Hexanna.  Would you do the honors?”

“With pleasure,” the sorceress purred.  Rather than get her hands dirty she, like Got Gal, had stood to one side and eagerly enjoyed the view.  Now, with a delighted cackle, she reached in, her own long-nailed hand joining the many already swarming the hero’s muscular struggling body.  Darting down, her claw-like hand seized a tight hold on the huge gleaming belt buckle that still lay cinched tight about his waist, between his six-pack abs and his giant captured cock.

“Wh-what?!” the mighty hero rumbled, gaping down in shock.  But by then, it was too late.

With a victorious, high-pitched squeal, Hexanna ripped the hero’s giant buckle away from him.  His long thick leather belt went ripping out from around his waist, trailing after the solid silver disc like a sperm’s tail flailing along behind its head.  Deprived of the empowered buckle that was the source of his powers, Star God’s giant body trembled and glowed faintly as his super-human strength and invulnerability faded – leaving him just a hung but helpless stud in the clutches of the scantily-clad heroines.

“What… what is the meaning of this?!” Star God thundered, righteously, as his powers were taken.  His mighty thews promptly tensed – instinctively preparing to attack, regardless of the gender or number of his assailants.

But an instant later, three different sets of fingers tightened sharply upon his giant cock and his huge balls, respectively.  With a yelp, the chastised hero trembled… and his huge surging muscles promptly slackened and then went limp, his mighty body remaining obediently tame within the heroines’ clutches.

“Nah ah ah!” Alpha Woman cooed chidingly, her luscious smirking lips hovering an inch from the trapped hero’s ear, giving his huge balls another corrective, ego-pacifying little squeeze.

“What… what are you bitches doing?!” Star God thundered, gaping down in horror… even as his super-humanly muscular body remained completely docile and pacified in the heroines’ long-nailed clutches.

“We depowered you,” Hexanna purred.  Standing next to him, holding her skull-headed staff in one hand, the buxom Brazilian sorceress held the other high.  His captured belt-buckle clutched in her fingers, his thick belt dangled down, swaying tauntingly before him – like a long but uselessly limp and impotent cock before a horde of cackling and derisive women.

“Yes… b-but…”  he whimpered.  He stared up at the tauntingly-held buckle in shock.  “Why?” he asked, of his fellow agents of justice.

“We have our reasons,” Lady Midnight cooed, into his left ear.  One hand clutched tight to his wrist, the other caressed his bulging bicep.

“They will become clear soon,” Alpha Woman assured him, stroking a single teasing finger with relish up and down the crevice between his giant trapped balls.

“But first,” Wolf Woman cooed into his right ear, “be a good little boy… and bend these big manly arms back just a little bit further.”

“Uhhh…” Star God mumbled.  He didn’t understand why the one instruction followed from the other.  But, his brain swirling with shock and hormones, he was having trouble thinking straight in general.  A tiny little squeeze at his balls was all that was needed to make him fall in line.  “Okay…” he said.  With one last tremble, his giant arms ceased to struggle.  Huge muscles bulging, he let the two snickering heroines drag them around behind his back, and crossed his wrists just above his ass.

Wolf Woman and Lady Midnight both grinned.  Then, letting Lady Midnight take over the duties of holding the trembling cock-stroked hero’s wrists together, Wolf Woman reached a sly hand up underneath the bar, just beside her sleek wolf-print panties.  There, taped underneath, was a pair of chromed steel handcuffs.  Pulling them off she reached around, and, with a giant smile on her gorgeous face, slapped them down on the hero’s wrists.

“WH-what?” Star God gasped.  He gaped back over his shoulder – as his huge dick twitched, now utterly helpless, in Americana’s eagerly stroking fingers.

But the ladies didn’t give the big well-hung lug a chance to catch up.  Throwing their heads back, they laughed and laughed, eagerly.

“What… what is the MEANING OF THIS?!” Star God bellowed – putting every ounce of male power and authority he could into his booming voice.  Uselessly, for however big and powerful his muscles might be, every one of the ladies was all too aware that he was bound, depowered, and had his tender genitals in their clutches.

“Go ahead and show him,” Ms. Americana cooed, to Hexanna, as she eagerly stroked his defenselessly twitching penis.  “This big damn hero is just our little sex-toy now!”

“My pleasure,” the Brazilian sorceress purred.  Lifting up her staff, she waved it in a slow circle.  As she did so the eyes of the skull began to glow purple with misty excess power.

“Goddess of darkness, mistress of venus, let this great big stud finally see with more than his penis!” she said.  Reaching out she delivered her spell in the form of a rude, mocking finger-flick, her fingertip also covered with writhing tendrils of dark purple energy, to the center of the dumb-founded hero’s handsome but inferior forehead.

In the wake of her finger-flick Star God blinked at her in shock.  It was as if the flick of her finger had suddenly given him the worst case of beer goggles he’d ever had.  Before his eyes, her appearance had suddenly started to blur, shift, and sway.  Closing his eyes, he shook his head sharply, to try and rattle his screws back into place.  When he opened them again, he found his vision of the buxom sorceress was once more clear.  But unlike a normal case of beer goggles, the clearing of his vision had left her no less curvy, no less silky, and her face no less darkly beautiful than before.  However it was now a different buxom sorceress who stood smugly before him, her body jiggling in her skimpy straining costume.

“Surprise,” Nightmare Witch purred.  Her evil face leered into the hero’s dumbfounded face.

Star God’s lips hung open, and he shivered in disbelief.  Then, his mouth agape, the mighty hero’s square-jawed head whirled first one way and then the other, staring at the other beauties surrounding him in turn.  Letting out a gurgle of terror his jaw to fall further and further as, with the illusion spell canceled, he now found a new evil – if still darkly ravishing - face leering back up at him from where each of the ‘heroines’ had stood.

“Dumbass,” the blonde thief known as Esha purred, her voluptuous black-bikini-clad curves standing where Americana’s once had been.  A huge evil smile upon her lips, she stroked her black-gloved and greedy fingers eagerly up and down the captured hero's gigantic, fully-hardened, and completely defenseless penis.

Beside Esha, where Got Gal had been, the Dragon Queen lounged upon her stool.  She said nothing – simply licked her luscious lips and, almond-shaped Asian eyes darting up and down his naked muscular body, gave the gaping hero a wicked, eager, and predatory leer.

“Thanks for the cash, dipshit,” Thorny Rose cooed from behind the bar.  Her face smirking from amidst her pink hair, the villainess dropped one finger down to push his wad of cash deeper into her cleavage – which still bulged every bit as spectacularly and pneumatically from within the giant cups of her straining bra as before.  Before her on the bar, two of Nightmare Witch’s magic potions - one of weakness, still half-full, and the other of strength, completely empty, silently explained how the mighty hero had been so easily bested in his final contest.  But the horrified male didn't have time to fixate on that, as there were still more wicked ladies surrounding him.

“Nice to meet you,” the Mayhem Twins each cooed, leering up at the hero’s face from where Wolf Woman and Lady Midnight once stood, as his spit-curled head whirled to gape down at each of them in turn.  Each wore her trademark bustier and thong panty combo, one in red and one in blue.

“Nice muscles,” Mischief Mayhem, the blue twin, purred, stroking his fingers over his giant shivering bicep.

“They’ll fetch a pretty penny on the auction block,” Menace Mayhem, the other twin, cooed, delivering a tiny kiss to his bicep on the other side.  "Assuming you survive to get there..."

 “As will these!” Ilsa, the evil Nazi villainess, laughed.  Standing behind him, where Alpha Woman had just been, she dragged her long-nailed fingers eagerly over the American stud’s enormous and defenselessly tender nuts.

“Oh… oh fuck…” Star God whimpered.  His head whirled back and forth slowly, taking in the array of beautiful but evil faces that surrounded him.  “Oh fuck!” he whimpered.  His dick twitched with fear – now that it knew whose wicked feminine clutches it was actually in.  But it lost none of its diamond-like hardness, pulsing helplessly beneath Esha’s stroking black-gloved fingertips.  “Oh… FUCK!” he moaned, trembling in captured helpless dismay.

Esha grinned, evilly.  “Not tonight boy,” she cooed.  She gave his long twitching member another stroke with her fingertip, and her evil smirk broadened.  “At least, not with any super-heroines…” she purred.

“What… what are you going to do to me?” Star God said.

“That’s for us to know, and you to find out,” Esha purred.  She glanced at the floor-to-ceiling windows and smirked.  “Alright, ladies,” she said.  “Let’s get this big dumb lug out of here, before one of the real super-cunts he was hunting flies by and spoils our fun!”  Squeezing her fingers tight around his giant penis, she gave him a tug forward by his long helpless flesh-lead.

“Oooh!” Star God howled.  But he could not resist.  As his long cock got tugged forward, clutched in Esha’s fingers, he stumbled helplessly after it.  His boots hobbled meekly one after another, bound by his super-speedos stretched between them.  His top-heavy torso tipped one way and then the other but managed, barely, to stay upright.

Letting go of him, the other villainesses pointed and cackled with glee as they watched Esha lead the mighty hero back and forth around the bar by his big dick.

“Hahahaha!” both Dragon Lady and the Mayhem Twins cackled, gleefully.

“We’ve got you by the penis, big boy,” Thorny Rose cooed – her giant tits sloshing back and forth around his money with relish.  “Which means we’ve got you!”

“Or the only part any woman should ever care about, at least” Ilsa sneered.

Star God yelped, and howled with rage.  But in the end he had no choice but to follow behind Esha’s stunning scantily-clad buns, tugged along like a dog with a thick and throbbing new leash.  Smirking, Esha led him back and forth before them a couple times, then pulled the tamed and hobbled stud in the direction of the elevator.  Forcing him inside, Esha slammed him up against the rear door.  The rest of the evil ladies promptly crammed in behind her, until his view of the floor of the elevator was entirely blocked by their sloshing bra-straining breasts.  Then slowly, as he gasped in awe and horror, the door creaked closed, sealing him in with the wickedly leering beauties and, with a shudder, the elevator started to descend…

To be continued...

SUMMARY:  Star God enters a skyscraper-top bar that seems to be loaded with super-heroine ass.  He attempts to pick up Miss Americana.  She responds with a series of challenges which end with Star God surrounded by leering heroines, stripped down with his super-hero briefs around his ankles.  They then steal his belt buckle, taking away his power.  The angry hero tries to struggle, but tight grips on his balls and penis render him tame.  The ladies then drop the illusion spell, revealing that the 'super-heroines' are actually a pack of cackling villainesses.  Binding the naked hero, they force him into an elevator and take him down to their secret lair to continue their plans for him.