Miss Americana vs the Boarman:  Miss Americana Wins Ending

Our Story Thus Far:  Miss Americana has come to Broodhaven, the home city of her hated rival the Boarman.  After many trials and tribulations, she now finds herself deep within the Boarman’s base, naked, with the Boarman standing right in front of her.  After a brief and heated discussion, the Boarman finally says he tires of this, and that they should settle the actual source of their animosity once and for all.  Miss Americana hotly agrees - at which point the Boarman immediately slips a finger up into her pussy.  Now, for the spine-tingling conclusion…

Author's Note:  this is one of two endings to this storyline.  Note that this is not a ‘single difference’ diversions; rather the two variants ultimately feature two very different Misses Americana who, indistinguishable to this point, will now either triumph over the Boarman or succumb to them.  Rest assured though, either way - they’re going to have a lot of sex.  

As mentioned at the end of the last chapter, this ending makes some revelations about Miss Americana that some may find out of character.   It's not an interpretation of her I would normally favor myself; but I liked the idea of writing a winning ending for her and given everything that had come before this was the only way I could come up with to square that circle.  You have been warned.

Second Note:  this is the second version of this chapter submitted; the original had some typos and other errors that were corrected.  There were no major changes.

Send any comments or feedback to violatoremail@protonmail.com.

“Oh!” Miss Americana gasped.  A shiver ran through her, as the Boarman’s finger slid up into her.

“You like that… don’t you baby?” the Boarman purred, as his fingertip rubbed away inside her.

Taking a deep breath, Americana nodded her head up and down, like a drunken schoolgirl.  “Yes!” she gasped.

He leered.  Stroking his finger forward, he swiftly located her clitoris and began to stroke it too - and was rewarded with a little moan from her, and a quiver running all the way up her stunning body.

“You’re completely wet,” he gloated, as he felt her fluids pour down onto his hand.

Miss Americana nodded again, the expression on her face lost and delirious.  “Yes…” she said, softly.  “I… I am… so wet…and… so horny...”

He grinned.  Hooking his finger up he rubbed just inside her, along the front wall of her pussy just above her clitoris - where he knew the sensitive outer fringes of the hood could be found.  He smirked into her eyes - the expression upon his face like an angler using his long line to reel in his biggest catch yet.

“You have anything you want to say to me, baby?” he cooed.

Americana bit her lip, and shook her head.  Her entire body trembled again, as his finger teased at her clit.  “Yes…” she whispered softly.

“What is it baby?” he asked.

Her head rolled, and she gasped.  Then she slowly shook her pretty head back and forth.

“What... what took you so long?!” she finally moaned.

“What?” the Boarman said.  His finger suddenly froze, inside her.

With a hungry moan, Americana lunged forward.  Her hands wrapped tight around his shoulders and slammed him up close to her.

“Woah,” the Boarman said, eyes turning down to gape despite himself as, even by his standards, a truly enormous pair of tits came to slam down hard and grind into his chest.  But before he even knew what was happening, her hands were in motion upon him.  Her left slid up around behind his cowled head, took a mighty grip, and pulled his square-jawed face down until it hovered right in front of her.

A huge smirk on her face, Americana shook her masked head.  “C’mon,” she cooed at him.  “Don’t tell me you don’t know exactly what you’ve been doing…”  She darted in, pressed a tiny kiss on the side of his mouth, and then withdrew.  “You’ve been teasing me all night long,” she asserted, cooing.  “And it worked… oh, it worked on me oh so very well!”

Then, pulling him up to her, she slammed her lips down onto his.  The Boarman bleated in shock.  Then he bleated again, his eyes wide.  Her left on the back of his head dominating his attention, her right hand had been unaccounted for.  Suddenly, just as she kissed him, it reappeared - slamming back down right onto his crotch.  Seizing a tight grip through his speedos, she began to squeeze and massage his gigantic penis eagerly, like a hungry girl trying to wrestle the biggest sausage out of a sack.  

“Mmmm!” she cooed with pleasure, as she felt his thick penis pulse against her fingers - and sending her tongue diving down inside him, coiled it around his eagerly.  Then she pulled back, but kept their heads very close.  “Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting… to play with the Boarman’s big toy?” she asked, grinning.  She gave it another deep squeeze.  “Very long,” she added, in a soft husk, her lips caressing his earlobe.

Throughout the Boarman’s finger, inside her, continued to stroke helplessly.  Although, the light rubbing it directed into her clitoris now seemed rather meager in comparison to her sharp squeezes back around his pulsing speedo-trapped cock.  But his stimulation was still more than enough to make her voluptuous hips rock back and forth, and to draw a throaty coo of pleasure out of her.

Then, breaking the kiss, Americana propped her forehead up against his and stared into his eyes, while she continued to eagerly stroke and fondle his giant bulge - and he did the same back inside her slit.  

“C’mon,” she cooed.  “Don’t try to tell me you didn’t know exactly what you were doing.”  She gave his penis a squeeze, and then stroked her fingers up and down it, through his speedos.  “You put your fucking finger inside me, you pervert,” she said.

Lifting her hand up from his cock, she tapped a finger to his face and grinned.

“You teased me all night… but now, you’ve finally made your move, haven’t you?” she said.  She glanced down - to where his finger was still working away inside her.  A veritable waterfall of her gooey fluids was dripping out around it.  She observed his stroking finger a minute, then looked back up to his face.  “We ladies do appreciate that,” she admitted.  “It’s silly, I know, but it’s tradition to make the guy go for it first.  But now, I assume, you were about to ask me if I wanted to fuck?  I mean or not even bother with the asking part which is a little naughty but honestly…”  She smiled slyly.  “In this case?  Not a problem…”

He drew a deep breath.  This was not how he had imagined this moment in his head.  But still, to admit he didn’t want to nail the superheroine he’d already started fingering went against everything he stood for.

“Yes,” he said.

Americana nodded eagerly.  “Great!” she said.  She pulled him close, kissed him, then drew him away from her.  “I knew you’d get that damn tusk out of your ass eventually!”

Then, seizing him, she slammed her lips to him yet again.  And as their tongues batted and played in his mouth, using a tight grip on his shoulders, she shoved him back.

The Boarman yelped.  Over their kiss his eyes went wide under his cowl as he suddenly realized that, even if he wanted to, he could not have resisted her.  She was stronger than he had realized.  Her mighty hands upon him pushed his hugely muscular body back until his calves bumped into the bed.  With a shove, she pushed him down onto it.  He ended up sprawled under the painted sign reading ‘Bedroom Arena One’ above them.  Grinning like a hungry panther, she slunk up onto the bed with him, and coiled up just beside him.

Reaching out she stroked her hand over his chest.  But even though his muscles were massive, and she looked like something out of a horny teen boy’s fondest wet dream, her fingers, as they stroked over his abs and pecs, pushed down just hard enough to make absolutely clear he was going nowhere.

Lying on his back beside her, the Boarman panted softly, staring up at her.

She arched an eyebrow.  “Something wrong?” she said - her hand roving over his muscular body like a middle-aged woman trying to delay the decision of where her single should go in a Chippendale dancer’s thong.

“Y-your strength…” he said.

“What about it?” she cooed.  Still stroking him, she bent lower and took a sniff at his flesh.

“It’s… much more than I thought…” he admitted.  More than mine, he didn’t say with his words - but did still manage to say with literally his everything else.

She shrugged.  “In case you did not notice, I am a superheroine,” she pointed out.  Lifting up, she elevated her enormous breasts and then brought them down onto his chest… and sighed with pleasure as she felt his massive muscles press up into her big tender teats.  This also put her in position to look down into his face.

“But… but my machine defeated you…” the Boarman said - gaping in awe at her enormous tits stroking his chest, despite himself.  “How-how… can you still be so…”

“Oh, Goddess!” Americana gasped.  Lifting up her head, she rolled her eyes - which the Boarman barely noticed, as his gaze seemed to be trapped by her giant titties caressing his chest.

“That thing?” she giggled.  “I could have broken out of that thing at any time.”

“Th-then why didn’t you?” he asked.

She gave him a look like he was a five year old.  

“Wait, seriously?” she laughed.  Her lips quivering derisively.  “You built a fucking foreplay machine - and then wondered why a woman would want to stay inside it?  Really?!  Especially when you fucking admitted you don’t have the patience to do a proper job yourself?!  Which, uh speaking of, that finger should really go back inside me if you don’t mind - Thanks In Advance!”

Boarman gasped.  But his self-image as a master player would not take such ribbing lying down.  His finger, tiring of pumping mindlessly inside her, had indeed slid out.  Hastily he jerked it back up, fumbling back up between her mighty thighs, until he once more found his place.  As if to make up for lost time, he slid two into her.

“Oh… thank you!” she said.  Her hips wiggled with pleasure, and she nodded.  “Though to be honest,” she said, as his digit flailed at her clitoris as if it knew that was where the action was supposed to be, but had no clue how to make that action actually happen, “I think I’d be more satisfied just going back in the machine…  Do you sell those, by any chance?”

The Boarman groaned… and then did his best to redouble his efforts inside her.

“Ooh!” she said, as he got in a few good strokes.  “That’s a bit better.  I’ll upgrade you from ‘clueless virgin’ to ‘fumbling teenager’.”

Then, she dove down and kissed him.  The Boarman groaned, as her lips claimed him - his fingers continuing to work their best inside her pussy.  When her lips withdrew, though, he still seemed fixated on one topic.

“But… but how?” he asked her.  “N-not just the machine.  You… you got owned over and over tonight.  How… how are you still…”

She rolled her eyes.  “Oh, God, do I really have to spell it out for you?”  Diving down she put her lip near his ear, as if whispering a secret.

“I… get off… on things…being done… to me… you moron,” she hissed to him, as if whispering the answer to a test into a slow student’s ear.  Leaning in, she gave him a little bit on his earlobe.  “Like, I fight crime in my fucking panties.  How on Earth have you dudes not all already figured my shit the fuck out?  Do I have to send out written notes?  Or stick post-its on my ass?”  

She gave him another bite, said ass wiggling with pleasure.  

“But…” she cooed softly to him, as he stared up at her like she’d grown a second gorgeous head.  “While I like that… it’s not the only thing I like.”  Cuddling up closer, she gave him a throaty giggle.  “Every girl likes a change of pace, now and then,” she informed him.

Rearing around, she looked back down his body.  She gasped in awe, at the sight of his huge penis throbbing inside his briefs.  Then, reaching down, she seized his cock again, her fingers wrapping around his bloated bulge.  Gasping and sighing with performative hunger, she stroked her fingers up and down it.

“Oooh…” she purred.  She giggled, like a girl in a porno.  “So big…” she cooed down at him.  She licked her lips.  “Americana likes,” she admitted, and began to stroke him faster.

Boarman was still struggling to keep up with the sudden change in the woman who, for most of the night, he had regarded as his golden-haired dessert - the little busty treat he could finally have his way with to celebrate his latest victory.  His mind raced back up and down the night, struggling to fit the events in her new framing - even as his big penis twitched eagerly, already adapting nicely to the ‘new framing’ where Americana’s mighty slender fingers stroked with powerful dominating ease up and down its enormous length.

Then she licked her lips.

“Okay,” she purred.  “Now it’s my turn to say ‘enough foreplay!’  Let’s see this big thing.”

Seizing his briefs, she suddenly jerked them down.  The Boreman yelped as his naked penis, very hard, snapped up out of his crotch.

Then Americana’s jaw dropped, and her eyes went wide.

Not just because the Boarman’s big penis was in front of her - though that certainly helped.  But mostly because the gargantuan phallus towering up before her was covered, from the base to the tip, in an alternating series of little smears… each in five different colors.

“Oh… oh my God!” Americana gaped, staring at the Boarpenis in shock.  Up and down they were, smeared and smirched - but in a way that when she looked close she could still see the lip-prints.  Ruby red, sapphire blue, violet purple, jade green, and golden yellow, over and over again, to a total of at least three each, all up and down his penis.

“I… I can explain!” the Boarman yelped.  “They, uh, started to escape and, uh, the only way to…”

But reaching down, without looking, Americana pushed a finger up to his lips, pre-empting him.

“No need,” she purred.  Staring down at his rainbow-colored penis, she slowly shook her raven-haired head - as, recovering from the initial shock, a huge smirk slowly spread across her lips.  “You are just a naughty boy!  Very very naughty!”  She licked her lips, admiring the dedication the Prizm had put into making sure they got every single inch.  “And they are some dirty lying sluts!  Don’t want superheroes around my ass.”  

She licked her lips, and giggled.  

“Good for them.  Maybe we can get along after all, some day,” she purred.  “Once they get over this juvenile ‘kill all superheroes’ phase and learn to be just a little more mature about things, like me…”

Then Americana suddenly lunged back down at him.  The Boarman yelped.  But Americana’s right hand, pinning down his shoulder, kept him held in place effortlessly.  A moment later Americana’s luscious lips, a huge smirk upon them, alighted on his giant helpless penis… and began to shower it in slurps and kisses of her own.

“Oooh, yes…” she said, feeling him pulse up against her.  She giggled.  “Sorry, I’m messing up your little rainbow trophy thing,” she purred at him, noticing her lips were already starting to smear out the Prizms’ once-perfect rings.  “I hope you got a picture first or something, for your trophy case or sex dungeon or whatever,” she added.  Then, opening her mouth, she began to alternate between laps of her tongue and nips of her teeth.  She giggled with delight as she was able to repeatedly bite him, knowing he was invulnerable, and still feel him pulse with pleasure as a result.  Then, bowing lower, moaning, she began to slurp enthusiastically all up and down his penis.

“Oh… fuck…” the Boarman said.  His head shivering, his eyes rolled, as he discovered that Americana was very, very, very good.

After a few minutes, Americana lifted up her head and briefly caught her breath.  She shook her head.  “You don’t have much experience with women who actually know how to handle one this big - do you?” she asked.  

Diving back down, she lapped at him some more - and as she did her hand, holding him, lifted momentarily and tapped the center of his face, before she came back up.  

“Don’t say it, I know you want to,” she said.  She gave him another lap.  “Yes, I do get a lot of practice.”  Bowing down, she slurped some more - and grinned as she heard him groan.  “My response to that is to ask right now - any complaints?”

Suddenly, spreading her lips wide, Americana dove down, and took him all the way.

“Oh… FUCK!” the Boarman groaned.  He had gotten the same from the Prizm… but only with a whole lot of effort on both their parts.  Americana’s lips went to his pubes like they were riding an express elevator with the cable cut… and he could feel from how they were wrapped around there, were still smirking in delight.  He groaned in awe as she surrounded him, and then shuddered in disbelief as she began to fly up and down him.  She kept it up for just a few seconds, before popping back off.  Reaching up, she wiped some drool off her lips, and gasped delicately.  Then she turned her head.

“Like I said, any complaints about my ‘experience’ now?” she purred.

Beneath her, Boarman’s mighty body could only let out a stunned gurgle.

She smirked.  “Didn’t think so,” she cooed.  Diving back down, she gave him another few laps, then lifted back and frowned.  Turning back around she looked at his face - one hand rising up to stroke his penis and keep it hard and enthused.

“I will admit,” she said, briefly rubbing her jaw, “even by my standards, you’ve got a big cock.”  She dove back down, and slurped it a few more times - while above her, a grin finally started to spread across the Boarman’s lips.  Then she lifted back up, and frowned.

“Got to say though…” she said, her hand stroking his penis.  “As someone who’s had both?”  She made an apologetic face.  “The Leviathan’s penis is bigger than yours.”

“Wh-what?!” the Boarman gasped.  His jaw dropped.  Then he shook his head.  “Th-that’s not what my information says,” he yelped.  “Are you sure?”

“Let me check,” Americana said.  Diving back down, she wrapped her lips around him.  Eyes looking up, she took him.  Staring down the Boarman gasped in awe - both at the sight and at the feeling - as she went all the way down.  Even seeing it, he wasn’t sure how it was physically possible - unless Americana had a secret superpower to rearrange her insides, in order to make way for his penis.  Then she slurped back up, and nodded.

“Yep, definitely,” she said.  Leaning in, she gave the outmatched Boarpenis a little consoling kiss, just behind its twitching glans.  “He’s got you beat by, like, at least a whole inch.”

Boarman gaped down.  “Well, that can’t matter that much can it?” he asked her.

Head hovering near his penis, giving it another few nips and pecks, Americana grinned.  “Well, uh, not to put too fine a point on it, but… he fucked me once and I spent the next three months as his willing love-slave on his island…”  

She pressed a kiss to his penis, and then stroked it, admiring how it twitched.  

“Admittedly, ‘three month vacation on a tropical island with a big-dicked dude’ is… not actually something you necessarily have to force a girl into…”  She dove down, slurped a bit, then looked up.  “Your pretty little villainesses go back to being evil after…what?  Twenty four hours?  Forty-eight at the most?”  She shrugged - making her huge tits bat at his penis as well, and then smiled.  “You do the math.”

The Boarman did not seem pleased about this.  But Americana was done playing, and let him know in a very mysteriously feminine way.

“Alright, I’m done playing,” she told him.  She smiled, and licked her lips.  “It’s time to get your big penis into my little pussy, don’t you think?” she asked him.

Rearing up, she went ahead and showed him the little pussy in question, by lifting her mighty thigh.  Throwing it over, she brought it back down - and was soon straddling him, her knees beside his waist.  His giant penis towered up directly behind her.  Her hands going to his shoulders, she pressed him down firmly into the bed.  Then, lifting up her hips, she began to slowly drag them up him, drawing his immense tip closer and closer to her vagina.

Then, she suddenly gasped.  A shiver ran through her.  Turning, she looked back down the right side of her body.

There, halfway up her hip, was the Boarman’s hand.  It had slid up there, either stealthily or instinctively - probably in response to the way her hands were keeping him pinned.  When she saw him he freezed, but it was too late and his goal was obvious.

His fingers were just a few inches away from, and clearly heading towards, the clasp of her golden belt.

Americana breathed in and out a few times, her enormous breasts jiggling on his chest.  Then she turned her head back around and faced him.

“Well?” she asked him - as his hand remained in place, still just a few inches from its goal.  “Are you going to steal my belt or not?” she asked him.

When she didn’t get an answer she lifted her rotund bottom, and began to rub it back and forth.  She caressed it both against his hand and his lolling penis - practically delivering a written jiggling invitation to him to go ahead and take it from her.  Her eyes remained glued to his, as she waited for him to make his decision.  She said nothing… but the contemptuous expression on her gorgeous face, as she looked down at him, said it all.  

Taking Miss Americana's belt was what a common thief had to do to nail her.  Not a real villain or, for that matter, hero.

“You can definitely take it from me,” she told him, after several seconds when he had neither moved nor spoken.  “I can’t stop you.”  She wiggled her bottom against him again, practically daring him to.  “And if you do,” she informed him, “then yes - you can crush my pussy like it’s never been crushed before… because you’ll just be fucking another normal bimbo.”

The Boarman gasped.  His hand, at this, did indeed slide slightly up further, until he was actually touching the clasp.  Then, he stopped again - as her eyes bored into him.

“So, is this all you want, superhero?” she finally asked him.  She gave him a long look - rubbing her buns back and forth in long slow strokes.  “Do you want to fuck just another woman, like you can find on any fucking street corner in your shithole city?”  She went from rubbing back and forth, to up and down him - teasing his cock while she dared him to depower her.  “Or…” she whispered down to him, “are you man enough that you think you can fuck the brains out of a real fucking superheroine?”  She gave him a long slow stroke, while his giant cock twitched.  “Well?” she asked, as she felt his giant cock pulsing against her buns, and felt his fingers trembling against her buckle.  “Which is it you want, superhero?”

She waited a few more seconds, and felt his fingers shiver.  Then she shook her head.

“Too fucking late,” she growled.

Suddenly, in a lightning move, she whipped her hand around, seized his, and tore it away from her belt - while it was still very much in place.  She slammed the hand back down beside him.  Meanwhile her other hand found his, seized it, and slammed it down to the bed as well - pinning him in place.

Looking down into his face, she shook her head.

“You’re getting the super-pussy whether you want it or not,” she informed him.  “If you’re having second thoughts, well, tough.  That’s the price you pay for making me really fucking horny.”

With that she stroked her voluptuous hips all the way up him.  Her pussy easily found his tip, like it was a penis-seeking missile.  Pressing down, she enveloped his tip just slightly with her vulva.

“Ready, Boarboy?” she asked him.

His tip pressed into her entrance, he stared at her.  “It’s man,” he said.

She shook her head.  “You thought about taking my belt,” she pointed out.  “So as far as I’m concerned you’re a boy until you prove otherwise.  Now stop being a big pussy, and nail mine.”

Then, with a sudden downward slam of her hips, she drove his gigantic cock deep up inside herself.

The reaction from both of them was instantaneous and explosive.

“Oh… FUCCCCK!” the Boarman groaned, his eyes bugging out and his head rolling.

“Oh, G-goddess, yEAAAAAASSS!” Americana squealed, her sable-maned head shivering in awe, as she finally got filled the way she’d been craving to be for way, way, waaaay too long.

She slammed all the way down him, until he was completely buried inside her.  Her pussy lips, bulging out wide, hovered just above his balls - which once more, boggled the Boarman’s mind, even though it was happening right in front of him.  Then, quivering atop him, Americana whimpered and shook her head, her voice coming in soft pants.

“Oh.. oh Goddess…” she gasped.  She took a deep breath, wiggling into a slightly better position atop him, and then sighed.  “F-for the record… I… I have had bigger,” she softly confirmed.  “But… but it’s been… a very long time!” she admitted.  She shook her head, and let out a wan, if quivering smile.  “T-tonight… is going to be a good, good night!” she said.

Then, having adjusted herself slightly, she began to slam herself furiously up and down him.

“Oh… yeah!” she squealed.  Her head shook back and forth, and she moaned.  “Oh, yeah, hero!  T-that’s the shit!”  Her pussy flew up and down him, surging and boiling, taking his immense hammering inside her eagerly.  Her buxom hips shook and jiggled as she hurtled up and down him.  Her gigantic breasts, pressed into his chest, rolled and bounced like massive silky shock absorbers, helping to spread and cushion the piston-like slamming of her immortal body up and down its guide-rail of pleasure.

The Boarman, beneath her, didn’t even manage to be that articulate.  He simply gaped and groaned, eyes distant - as he did indeed, for once, experience what it was like to be fucked by a real superheroine.

The squealing and slamming continued for several minutes, until Americana - sweat dripping from her face, and not slowing at all - nevertheless had worked out enough of her really urgent need for deep powerful slamming that speech started to filter back into her.

“Uh… unh… unh!” she groaned.  Her eyes flickered down and she smiled.  “A-aren’t you going to make a little conversation, hero?” she asked.  She licked her lips and sighed, caressing her cheek against his, as she continued to do all the work of making his penis hurtle up and down inside her.  “It’s not polite to leave a girl alone with her own thoughts, while you’re fucking her, you know,” she added… barely managing to get the sentence out without slurring, as whimpers of pleasure still poured out rhythmically from her throat.

Beneath her, the Boarman groaned.  “I.. I don’t… what…” his deep voice rumbled - as if he had suddenly been summoned back up from a period of time lost in the Pussy Dimension, and was still getting his bearings in a world that did not consist solely of a moist squeezing tube hurtling up and down him.

Americana smiled - even as she continued to pant softly, with the pounding force of what she was making his penis do to her.

“You can talk about tonight, if you want,” she sighed, snuggling closer - her hips still slamming away as if running on an independent program.  She let out a little moan, her sleek belly rubbing against him, and then settled down again.  “I can tell you’re still a bit confused,” she added, stroking his big square-jawed face.

“Well….” he groaned.  In the way that happens in a man’s head when pussy is happening around his cock, he found his thoughts swaying wildly.  One moment, pubes.  Another, Americana.  Another, his cock-head pressing to something deep inside her that seemed to make her clamp with delight.  The next, the thought of slamming right through that thing, as if a battering ram through a door.  Then, once more, Americana.

Through it all, a few themes did manage to filter through, somehow.

“I… I still don’t understand…” he admitted, in a grunt.  “Th-the trap,” he whimpered.  “The-the Prizm… and the Goddess…”  He groaned.  “If you got trashed all night, h-how are you this this… oh, God!”  He groaned as his mind was dragged back to pussy again, while his penis suddenly pulsed with delight.

Americana sighed, and shook her head.  “We’re going to have to do this?” she asked, as he ran down her greatest hits of shame.  “Fine.”  Cuddling up next to him like a teenage girl snuggling with her boyfriend she put her lips near his face, while her hips continued to go to town on his big penis like she thought his cum was worth millions.  Which, to be fair, it might have been, to the right sort of buyer…

“The trap I’ll give you,” she said, her head resting beside his as they both grunted and shivered… almost like bystanders to the roaring engine of pleasure they were both equally linked to, and linked together inside.  “I was irate,” she said, enjoying him.  “And… and not paying attention.  The Prizm?  Sure, five on one they were… were too much for me!  B-but… the one t-time they all got the drop on you, you don’t seem to have fared much better!”

She felt him start to open his mouth, and immediately reared up to glare down at him.

“And… and don’t you d-DARE tell me that was your p-plan all along!  W-we’ve both been doing this a long time, we both know that’s the line you g-GIVE IT t-to the p-PRESS after you screw the f-FUCK up!”  

She suddenly clenched her fingers tight on his shoulders and moaned in awe, as her body soared in pleasure.  Beneath her the Boarman groaned in response, as the sudden clamping of her pussy almost drove him over the edge.  But, as sometimes happens, the impending peak suddenly vanished for them both, and they settled back down into ‘normal’ rhythm… which would compare to the ‘normal’ rhythm of most couples trying to converse during lazy sex about the way the pistons of a V10 at peak power compared to the power train of a poorly-oiled tricycle.

“As for the Goddess…” she cooed.  Rolling her head, she snuggled it onto his chest, like she just wanted to fall asleep in his big arms - even if the delicious devastation inside her made that impossible.  “Are you really trying to hold that up as some sort of big thing?  Like… no offense… you realize you’re just her gigolo, right?”

The Boarman, who had been seeming to get a little lost in the droning of her voice as she chatted during sex (I’m sure no man reading this can sympathize at all), suddenly was brought out of it like he’d just taken a reeling punch to the face.

“Wh-what?” he grunted.

Looking down at him, she chuckled.  “You really didn’t realize?” she asked.  Pulling up, she began to nail him much more deliberately again, looking down into his face - raping his cock while she did her level best to rape his pride.

“Look,” she cooed.  “I’m sure you’re tough, and all.  But, uh, that lady?  She wiped the floor with the Queen of Justice, a flying cosmic blonde, and a… well, okay.  Lady Midnight tries very hard, bless her, but, still.  She helped.  Anyways, that celestial fucking slut fucking annihilated us all and she barely even had to try.  Then she goes out and slays a bunch and then you show up and… let me guess… puts up a little show of fighting and then ‘just happens’ to fall down in a way that presents her cunt?”

She slammed herself down onto him a few more times, watching his face… and saw from his expression that while she might not be right on the money she was close enough to hurt.

“But… but she’s a goddess…” he said.

Rearing back over him, Miss Americana smirked.

“Look,” she cooed, “as someone who’s known a few personally… being a goddess?  Fucking boring.”

Seeing the look on his face, she shrugged her shoulders - making her huge breasts bounce against his chest - and smiled.

“Look at it from her perspective,” she cooed, still undulating up and down him.  “She gets to fight a lot, fuck a lot, and then goes back to sleep - and never has to pretend tea ceremonies or whatever are like the most important thing in the universe.  And besides… you mortals don’t really count; you’re like spare change, you’re really only good for breaking ties.”

Taking a break from talking, Americana tilted her head back and moaned as she gave herself a series of long, deep, slow strokes.  “Oh!  Oh!” she gasped.  “Oh, that hits the fucking spot!”

“Anh!  Unh!  Ugh!” the Boarman grunted, as he took her slamming down him.  From the look on his face, she had given him something to think about - not that he was in much state to do so.  Then, tiring of conversation, she cut loose.  She let out a loud squeal as her hips flew up and down him, pounding herself as hard as she could.  She shivered and shook upon him and at last a shower of moisture burst from her cunt.

“Ahhhh….” Americana sighed.  She cuddled down onto him

“You came,” he said.

“Yep,” she said.

The fact seemed to restore his confidence a bit.  He chuckled.  “I knew you loved it,” he said.

Lifting up, she touched her finger to his nose.  “Don’t get cocky,” she advised him.  She smirked.  “Gorilla Groxx can give me one of those in half the time it took you.”  She wiggled a bit on him, and smiled.  “That said… think you can give me more?”

He nodded.  The comment about Groxx barely seemed to phase him.  “Absolutely,” he said.

“Then prove it,” she said.

She lifted up off him.  Despite herself, she let out a little yip as his immense cock-head squeezed back through her outer gates.  Then she rolled over, onto her back next to him.  The Boarman stood up and got, shakily, back to his feet.

“C’mon, Boarboy,” she said.  “Prove you deserve to be a man.”

Standing over her, he shook his head.

“You have a big mouth, woman,” he said.  “You taunt me…  that isn’t smart.”

“Oh, yeah?" she said.  Reaching down, she rubbed her aching cunt.  “What are you going to do about it?  Are you going to crush my little pussy?”

“Something like that…” he purred, coming down to loom over her.

She could tell that, as he stood over her, that he was getting his confidence back.  Being pinned down and fucked by an aggressive woman had not been on his agenda for the night.  But it was hardly unknown to him, given his rogues gallery, she was sure - even if it seemed most of them weren’t quite a match for her.  And now, he was in his element.  He would control what happened - or so he clearly thought.  Coming down, he seized her thighs.

Lying beneath him, Americana looked back and forth between his big cock and his face.

“Are you going to break my pussy with your big cock?” she asked him.

“If you want me to…” he said.

“I do,” she said.  “I want you to break my pussy, Boarboy.  I want you to wreck my pussy, as hard as you possibly can.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” he advised her.

He settled down into position, looming over her.  His huge penis came down to press against her already tender sopping vagina.  She panted softly, staring.  A look that almost looked like fear crossed her face - like she was just now realizing she might have bitten off more than she could chew.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked, softly.

He shook his head.

“I am going to ruin you, you god-damned bitch,” he said.  “By the time I’m through your slutty friends will need to come in here and wipe all the liquified superheroine brain off my sheets.  I’m going to turn you into a mindless slut.  When I'm done hollowing her out the only thing left of the so-called ‘Queen of Justice’ will be a stupid receptacle for cock.”  He chuckled.  “So not much change really, from how you’ve been acting lately.”

Americana took a deep breath.  “Sounds good,” she said.  There was a slight quiver in her voice.  “Go for it.”

He tightened his grip, and grinned.  “I will enjoy watching you crawl to my feet, and beg to serve your proper place, Americana,” he told her.

Then, he finally thrust inside.

“Oh, yesssss!” he roared exultantly as his giant cock buried itself inside her - in charge once more.

“Oh… ooooh!” Americana squealed, her head thrashing back atop the sheets.

Settling down on top of her incredibly buxom body, the Boarman proceeded to pound down into her as hard as he possibly could.  He wasn’t being complex.  It was the most basic position imaginable and he did nothing to change it.  Holding her thighs wide, he simply put every ounce of furious pounding force and speed into his hurtling hips as he could, slamming his mammoth penis down into her like a piledriver trying to break concrete - as if he really was trying to literally wreck her pussy.

And the visible effect on her was explosive and devastating.

“Oh! OOH! AIIEE!” Americana shrieked.  Her bountiful curves shook and jiggled under his deep wrecking power.  Her entire body seemed to ripple under the force of his strokes.  Her hourglass waist writhed and wriggled beneath him - pinned to the bed by the sheer bestial ferocity with which his gargantuan shaft was being plowed through her.

“Oh, that’s it!” she squealed, her eyes shooting up in her gorgeous skull.  “Th-that’s… F-FUCK m-my pu-pusssy, you… oh!  Oh!  F-fuck me you… OOOH!”

In record time her voice rising to a shriek, she came.  Her pussy clamped wildly on his cock, while fluids shot out of her.  Perched atop her, the Boarman laughed.

“Yeah, you love that don’t you bitch?” he cackled, as he felt her orgasmic pussy writhing around him.  “Well, more where that came from, you slut!”

And he proceeded to keep nailing her as hard and fast as he possibly could.

For several minutes, Bedroom Arena One was filled at last with the shrieks and screams and moans of a powerful heroine being fully taught her place.  The Boarman’s shaft slammed continuously like an industrial piston in her pussy.  Thrashing in awe, Americana squealed as she came again, and again, and again, helplessly beneath him.

“Hahaha!” the Boarman cackled, as he felt what had to be at least orgasm number ten explode out, showering his balls in her fluids.  “Take it, you god-damned slut!” he sneered.

“Oh, yeah!” she barely managed to gasp out, breathless from the fury.  “G-give it to me!  Give it to me!  Oh, GOD!”

Wrapping his hands around her shoulders, feeling her mighty legs caress his sides, the Boarman grinned.

“Am I too much for you already, you fucking slut?” he asked her.

“Yes, oh yes!  Y-you’re too m-much for MEEE!” Americana squealed - and her entire body wriggled against him as she came, again, almost immediately, yet more fluids splattering from her pussy.  Based on the way she was panting and shivering under his continuous domination, it wasn’t going to be more than a few seconds until her next, either.

The Boarman shook his head.  “God damn,” he purred.  “You really do just get off on being forced, don’t you slut?”

Miss Americana just shook and squealed in response, as fluids splattered from her cunt.

Much, much later - it was impossible for either of them to tell how long, since the intervening space could only really be perceived as a roiling period of hallucinogenic pleasure punctuated by frequent screams - the Boarman slammed in deep one last time - felt Americana shiver and squirt around him… and then slowly pulled back out.  He did not exit her, but went back until only his tip was still inside her, and stopped.  He huffed softly, catching his breath, like a marathon runner after his race.

Lying beneath him, Americana was left a shivering panting wreck.  Her eyes blinked wide, as if lost, and her gorgeous face seemed to be set into a permanent mask - as if her actual mind had departed to some other dimension a long long time ago.  Then, with a gasp, she suddenly shook her head.

The sheets around her were drenched in sweat, among other fluids.  

Then, slowly, a huge smile spread across her lips.

“God DAMN!” she purred. She wiggled her hips on him, and gasped with pleasure.  “If this is what taunting the Boarboy gets me, I’m going to do it all the time!”

Perched on top of her, hands on her thighs, the Boarman was still breathing hard.  His hard cock pulsed in her pussy.  He shook his head.

“Taunt all you want,” he informed her.  “I’m not through with you yet, slut.”

Coming up onto her, he resumed pumping into her - but, still panting, his strokes were smooth and sure, instead of the frenzied fury he’d unleashed earlier.  She gasped, shivering with pleasure upon him - and smiled.

“Tired?” she asked him.

He shook his head, and smirked.  “Nah, bitch,” he said.  “You’ll keep taking this, until I’m through with you.”

She gave him a bemused look.  “Sorry, no,” she said.  “You’ll stop whenever I want you to.”

He shook his head.  “You can tell yourself that, bitch,” he purred.  “While you continue taking this.”  He gave her pussy another deep thrust.

She gasped softly, and then shook her head.  “No, really,” she said.  “I can stop you whenever I want.”  Seeing his expression, she gave him a bright smile.

“While you were playing with your little toy,” she said, idly, while he continued to thrust into her, “I was playing with one of my own.  Plus, I just modified my belt to help.  It works really well.  Want to see?”

Pulling out, until only his cock-head was inside her, the Boarman looked down and gave her a dark expression.  “What the fuck are you talking about, you crazy bitch?” he asked.

She looked down at his penis, and nodded it towards her.  “C’mon, I’ll show you,” she said.  She licked her lips.  “Just thrust in.”

His hands shivered on her thighs a moment.  Then, he shrugged.  That was one request from a woman that pretty much no self-respecting virile male could refuse.  Bracing himself, he did so, slowly.  Americana gasped softly, as his huge penis sunk down, for what had to have been around the millionth time by that point, into her.  He pushed in with a long smooth stroke.   Then, when he was almost exactly halfway into her, his giant penis suddenly skidded to a halt, as if something had just put on the brakes.

“Wh-what?!” the Boarman gasped, shocked.

“Ah!” Americana whispered.  “Th-there we go!”  She briefly bit her lips, face quivering with just a slight bit of effort.  Down between her thighs, the outer lips of her pussy pulsed, slightly, around his suddenly trapped penis.  Then, turning her head up, she looked up and gave him a bright smile.  “Neat huh?” she giggled.

“Uh…” the Boarman groaned.  He was suddenly struggling to deal with the feeling of the outer lips of her pussy clamping down with what felt like roughly the same force as an industrial hydraulic press all around the midpoint of his penis.

“Go ahead,” Americana invited him, turning down to gaze on his half-imbedded penis with pleasure.  “Try to move.  Either way.  Just try!”

The Boarman shivered.  Then, trying to contain a brief surge of panic, he did as ordered.  He attempted to tug back, and then to push in.  His penis remained as stuck fast inside her as if they had been fused together.  “Wh-what the fuck?”

“No, not unless I say so, I just told you,” she said absently.  “But sure, try to go all up in, I’ll let you.”

Boarman gasped as he felt the force suddenly relax.  He could not help himself.  Acting on instinct, he started to try to slip out of what suddenly seemed almost like a horror movie monster between Americana’s thighs.  But he only got about a half inch, before he was dragged to a halt again by her hydraulic kegels.

“Nuh, uh, uh!” she said.  Lying back like she was relaxing on the couch, she lifted a finger and waved it at him.  “I said in, not out!”  She put her arm back up, underneath her head, like the Roman Empress in an old gladiator movie waiting on her servant.  “Don’t be scared now, I don’t bite - at least not down there.  Now, if I give you another chance, will you please be a good little man and put your big fucking dick inside my little pussy when I tell you to?”

The Boarman gasped, as he felt her force relent.  He remained stationary a moment.  Then, with a groan, he could not resist.  Knowing pulling out was useless and not wanting to endure her mockery for failing to perform, he obediently thrust in.  Americana gasped as she felt him fill her, and then, once he was balls-deep within her, restored her force around him.

“There,” she said.  She rolled her head, and cooed, to feel him within her.

Boarman gulped, and shook his head.

“If…. if you could do this… how… how does anyone ever get inside you?”

She rolled her eyes, and groaned.  “I told you, I just modified my belt!  Pay attention.”

“H-how did the Prizm get that tube in you then?” he moaned.

She sighed.  “Well, one - no belt.  Do you need to write that part down or something?  But, second, it’s not like I mounted pruning shears down there.  I’m strong, I still can’t close all the way.  I mean… I probably could have crushed Ruby’s tongue… but that would have just been rude.”  

She gave him a demonstration, watched him gasp, and smiled.

“Actually,” she purred, “if you didn’t have such a big thick cock, this wouldn’t work quite as well.  Is it my lucky day or what?  But… even if I can’t crush you… I can do other things…”

She kept her eyes on his face, watching carefully.  For a moment, there was no outward sign that anything had changed.  Then, slowly, the Boarman’s eyes started to roll up.  He let out a groan, and his entire body started to shiver.

“Pretty neat, huh?” she asked, letting the force all up and down his penis abate.  “Here… let me give it to you again.  You’re welcome, by the way.”

She started up again.  He trembled, and groaned.  “Oh… my GOD!” he said.

She relaxed again, and giggled.  “What’s it feel like?” she asked, curiously.

He shook his head.  It felt, sort of, like her entire clamping pussy had also somehow become a tongue.  Also, somehow, a throat, given how hard it seemed to suck on him.  Also, just to complete the set, like her anus, given how it had suddenly seemed impossible his penis could actually exist within the furiously dilating space it was mercifully allowed to occupy within her body.  But, lacking the presence of mind to say any of that, he didn’t.

“Okay,” Americana said.  Her voice was suddenly much sharper and less bright and airy.  “Let’s get down to brass cocks.”

Suddenly, the furious frenzy within her resumed.  The Boarman groaned, his mind churning.  She watched his face carefully.

“About to cum?” she suddenly asked, as she felt him start to twitch wildly.

He shivered.  Unable to resist, eyes tilted up in his head, he slowly nodded.

She smiled thinly.  “No, you’re not,” she told him.  She looked into his stunned, panting face, as the pressure suddenly abated - leaving him twitching inside her.  If he had been able to make even the tiniest additional thrust, he probably could have gotten himself over the edge - but of course he could not.  Gradually, she felt his pulses cool inside her.  Slowly, she shook her head - no longer looking like Miss Nice Americana.  

“Okay, here’s how it is,” she told him.  “You don’t move.  You don’t cum.  You don’t leave.  Until, for once, you be a proper man - and give a girl exactly what she wants.”

Perched atop her, pinned inside her, the Boarman panted softly as he slowly recovered.  Then he looked around.

He didn’t need notes this time.  Nor did he bother asking.  His hands, operating on pure panic after her ultimatum, darted to either side, going for it.

But, the clasp of her belt was now nested directly underneath her, pressed safely into the bed.  Theoretically, he could have still gotten to it.  But, having felt him twitch just before he went for it, she was ready for him.  Her hands darted out, and intercepted his easily.  Clenching them tight, she lifted them up, and pressed them to the bed over her head.  In doing so, she lifted him up entirely onto her.  Their posture ended up looking exactly like he was forcibly pinning her down into the bed - even though the opposite was true, and in fact he was held very firmly in place by three separate but equally unbreakable points of contact.

Shaking her head, Americana smiled up at him, as she held the Boarman in place over her.  “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” she said.  “Bad Boarboy!” she added, giving him another squeeze just to remind him of his place.

“You… you bi-” the Boarman started to say.  But he didn’t get any further.  A moment later, smiling sweetly, Americana started up her vaginal engine again - and a second later his voice derailed into a gurgling groan, as his eyes rolled.

“Like I said,” she purred, as she let off the pressure again.  “You don’t get out of this… until I get everything I want.”

“What… what do you want?” he barely managed to gurgle - his penis pulsing desperately yet still utterly unable to cum within her suddenly perfectly-still pussy.

“We’ll get there,” she said.  “But first - what I want is for you to get that nice big penis pumping inside me again.  Think you can manage that?”

He gasped, and then nodded.

“Good,” she said.  “Now then, fuck me, and fuck me good - because with this woman, for once, you don’t have a fucking choice.”

She released him.  The Boarman shivered.  When he didn’t move immediately, she gave him a brief taste - just a brief second’s worth.  He groaned - and then afterwards immediately began slamming his hips again.  She gave him a tight squeeze just below his tip, on his first upward stroke, every few strokes, just to remind him she could.  Gasping, he didn’t even try to get out of her.

“Mmmmm…” Americana sighed.  Raven-haired head rolling, she let out a few low moans, like she was getting a deep tissue massage - which of course she was, just very very deep.

But even as he continued pumping, she kept working him.  The Boarman groaned and gurgled as she kept him shooting up and then backing off over and over again.  He tried to thrust faster to get release - and she stopped him effortlessly.

“Right on the edge?” she asked him curiously, after a few minutes.

Shivering, he let out a low streak of unintelligible gibberish, and then helplessly nodded.

She smiled.

“Yeah… I have some special training machines too, FYI,” she purred.  She rolled her head, and sighed.  “I had to practice with them for a very long time to get this part just right.  I mean… it was fun practice, but still.  You’re welcome again by the way.”

He could only groan, shiver - and keep thrusting.

Looking up, she watched his face with fascination.  Though she had tried on her simulator many times, this was actually her first live test.  It was, to her delight, working even better than she had expected.

It was like the Boarman had accidentally left the password entered for his brain.  Any time she didn’t want him to think, a moment later he was not thinking.  At least, not about anything but pussy.  Not that, she idly reflected, this likely made all that much of a change from ‘normal’.

But though she could keep his spirit helplessly willing, she could do nothing about his weakening flesh.  He had never fully recovered from his attempt to ‘break’ her - by providing her with roughly a thousand orgasms for some reason, not that she didn’t appreciate it.  Panting hard, he sunk in… and stopped.

Clucking in irritation, Americana looked up at him.  She looked roughly as exhausted as if she’d spent the time since the start of their session doing her nails.  “Keep going,” she told him.  She gave him some pressure - which made him groan, but for once did not win compliance.

He shook his head.  “I… c-can’t…” he admitted, barely able to speak he was breathing so hard.

“Okay, well… you’re pretty much useless then.  So, let’s just get this over with.”

Suddenly, without even changing posture, she rolled over.  The Boarman groaned - but was in no position to resist.  In seconds he was the one pinned to the bid and she loomed over him.  

“Congratulations,” she growled.  “You’re basically just a dildo now.  But that doesn’t mean I don’t have some use left for you.  So hang on, Boardildo, this is gonna get rough.”

Then, she revealed she had been holding back in another way - as her hips suddenly started to blur up and down him.  The Boarman gurgled as he was subjected to stunning force from her sleek flat belly slamming down into him what felt like several thousand times a second.  His penis twitched wildly within her - and it felt like if he hadn’t been invulnerable there, it would have probably been liquified in about five seconds.  Throughout her pussy continued to modulate him like a finely-tuned instrument, keeping him wavering around right at the edge without ever letting him go over.

She squealed and squealed, while beneath him he did indeed seem to have become so helpless as to almost just be a giant sex toy she was riding.  Then, she slowed down - but still kept delivering sharp hard thrusts into him.  She went just slow enough to talk.

“Okay,” she purred.  “Ready to talk?”

He shivered, and whimpered.  She had been keeping him on the edge so long, he could barely remember any other state.  Slowly, he nodded.  “What… what do you want?” he asked.

“There’s only one thing I want from you,” she informed him.  She craned her head down, and kissed him.  “Are you ready to cum?” she asked him.

He gasped… and then slowly nodded.

“Are you ready to cum inside me?” Americana added, softly.  Her eyes lingered on his.

The Boarman gasped.  His expression suddenly looked hopeful.  He nodded - unnecessarily, because she suddenly felt his dick twitching with delight inside her.

“Good,” she purred.  Leaning down, she kissed him, then lifted back up.  “Then give me what I want,” she said.  “Come for me, Boarman!”

She suddenly redoubled her speed and force, her voluptuous fertile hips flying up and down him.

“Are you ready to cum right now?” she asked, squealing, as she brutalized herself with his giant potent cock.

“Y-yes!” he groaned.  “H-here it c-comes, BITCH!”

“Good!” she said.

And, suddenly, without warning, she jerked up off him.  This time, her pussy put up no resistance at all as it burst free of his cock.  Tumbling over to one side, she got out of the way.  The Boarman was left gaping down at his own gigantic penis… moments before it opened up and came all over him.

“GLLARGGH!” the mighty hero gurgled, eyes wide and wild, as a sticky white torrent of his own seed poured like a waterfall onto his face.

Lying beside him, gasping, Americana watched in awe.

“Oh, my God…” she cooed, her buxom body squirming with pleasure, as she at last beheld the Boarman’s fabled discharge.  She licked her lips and cooed with delight, as she watched his big thing pulse again and again and again, each one unleashing a geyser up onto his cowled face.  At last, even his gigantic balls had drained themselves.  His long penis went limp and settled down to look like a spent twisted worm on his belly.  The man himself was covered from his logo up to the tips of his cowl in his own seed - like the icing on poor Lady Death’s cake.

“Oooh…” Miss Americana cooed.  She licked her lips.  “What a load!”

Like a girl stealing a taste of a friend's ice cream, she leaned forward, swiped a finger through the slime upon the Boarman’s shivering brow, and brought it back up.  She stared at the pearly goo as it dripped from her finger.  Then she brought it to her lips.

“Mmmmm…” she sighed, as she sucked it off.  She swirled it in her mouth, and then sighed.  “That’s good!”  Reaching out, she took another couple tastes off his head, gobbled them down and giggled.

Moaning softly, the Boarman’s head wobbled slowly - completely blinded beneath a second cowl of drooling cum that coated every single bit of his face, as if he’d been covered with a wet white hood.  He breathed hard, and she could see him trying to react.  But, over the course of the past hour or so, Miss Americana’s pussy had put him through the equivalent of two marathons - one for his body and one for his penis.  Now that his ejaculation was over, she could almost see his post-coital energy levels plummeting.  Gasping softly, pristine and untouched beside him as a high-end naked model waiting for her photoshoot, Americana watched as the Boarman slowly sank down to lie upon the bed, and passed out.

Americana shook her head.

“Typical!” she said.  Then with a sigh, she slid to the edge of the bed.  “Ladies always have to clean up after,” she said, as she swung her feat down.

She stood up - shakily.  As she got back onto her feet it soon became apparent that her own buxom hips were not entirely unaffected by the brutal action of the Boarman’s penis.  But she was doing better than he was - and the extra protection for the interior of her pussy she’d added with her latest belt mod helped considerably.  Rubbing her tummy, Boarman lying prostrate behind her, Americana awkwardly yet rapidly hobbled over to a small control panel she had spotted near the doorway, on the opposite side from where she had been delivered.

There, to her delight, she discovered that what she thought she had seen had been true.  The Boarman, fully expecting to be the one to strut away and leave her passed out and smothered in his cum rather than the other way around, had been careless.  He was still logged in under his own password.  With a swipe of her finger, she brought his control system to life, and was, for all intents and purposes, him.

“Now, let’s see,” she cooed.  “First things first…”

She brought up his trophy vault interface.  The Boarman, fortunately, had everything carefully categorized to allow him to summon a specific conquest’s bra and panties at command - because, she imagined, the filthy pervert probably did so readily when he wanted to gloat.  With but a few flicks of her fingers, she was able to select her own and her friends’ and order them delivered to her.  Then, she located her friends themselves, and entered some instructions there too.

“Now the most important thing…” she murmured.

She entered his video library.  The Boarman, naturally, had this as well-categorized as anything… the better to aid easy cross-referencing for his spank bank.  With the level of access she had, she was easily able to select all the footage of herself and her friends, send it over to her own data-vaults just in case, and then delete his versions.

Finally, she found a map of his facility.  There were also some adjacent access points - which almost immediately confirmed some of her suspicions about where she was and why.  She noted the nearest exit point, which was practically right outside the door, and then nodded.

“I think that just about covers it,” she said, stepping away from the screen.  She tapped a finger to her cheek, and then gasped.  “Oh, right!” she said.

Sidling back up to the Boarman, she reached back down towards his waist.  The exhausted superhero groaned - but could do nothing, as her fingers went to his belt.

“I’ll take these,” she cooed to him, as she plucked away first her bra and then her panties from where they hung upon his belt.  Lifting them up, she waved her bikini tauntingly back and forth in front of his cum-smothered face, and above his limp penis.  Then she settled back onto her feet, and took them.

Having pulled her bottoms back on, Miss Americana was just squeezing her big girls back into the giant cups of their prison when a hatch opened up overhead, and a drone whirred down in.  Dangling down from it were the objects she had ordered up from his vault - specifically the skimpy costumes of her sidekick and her friends.  Looking at them, she smiled.  In short order, she had plucked them off, and finding no-where else to put them, ended up slipping them temporarily onto her belt.  Looking down, she put a finger to her lips, and then smiled.  “I must admit, it is a bit naughty,” she purred, examining the little bikinis that dangled down against her curvy hips, beside her own proudly swooping panties.  “But I have to admit, for hands-free practicality, it is hard to beat…”

Then, with all that done, she turned and strutted back over to the man himself.  Looking down through the waves of cum, she could tell he was still conscious - but just barely.  While he was recovering his strength slowly, it would be some time before he would be able to do much of anything.  Some time, but not forever.

“Have we learned our lesson then, hmm?” Americana asked, hands on her curvy hips - adjacent to her friends’ and sidekick’s dangling bikinis.  Not waiting for an answer, she bent over at the waist, her bottom wiggling behind her, and put her lips down near his drooling cowl.  “By the way,” she purred.  “I’d better not hear of you ever luring any superheroines from Delta City, or anywhere else, over here to play your little games ever again - like you did to my sidekick.”  She had seen that one on her screen.  “If one comes to play voluntarily, well… that’s her decision.  I’d just be a hypocrite if I banned that.  But other than that you keep your hands to yourself, so to speak… or someone just might see what having sex with the Boarman is really like.”  She cocked her head.  “Understood?”

Beneath the dripping waves of cum, there came a slight whimper.  Then slowly the drooling cowled shape nodded.

“Good!” Americana said.  Standing up, she whirled.  “Tata for now!” she said, and strutted away.

The door opened for her automatically.  Outside, in the distance she saw Royal Ivy gaping at her - but she didn’t do anything as Miss Americana strutted up to the nearby elevator.

“I had an amazing time!” Americana said, brightly to her, and then as the elevator doors opened she promptly strutted through.  “Thanks!” she added, sticking her hand out to wave one last time, before the door closed behind her.

Whirling, Americana punched a button inside the elevator and then stood with her legs planted wide as the doors finished closing.  It shot up… then sideways, then up again, and then swerved a couple times.  Finally, exiting the Boarman’s secret tracks it moved up a last ascent.  There was a ding, and the doors opened… to reveal the sprawling lobby of one of the hotels attached to the conference center at the base of Grand Tower.  Brenda even recognized it, having been there herself for a couple of functions over the years - thankfully never having run into the owner or any of his ilk.

As soon as the doors opened, Miss Americana strutted forth.  The lobby was huge and vast, with over a hundred people scattered over it at various desks, sitting areas, and stations.  Outside, it was light, and well past dawn.  Most of the people looked like travelers getting ready to depart.  There was a great bustle.

But, from the moment she set foot out of her elevator, the bustle started to fade.  One by one, then in groups, people turned… and gaped at the strange, stacked superheroine who had just strutted into their midst in shock.  Nearby, a couple of travelers standing around with their suitcases stared.

“Where did you come from?” one asked her.

Smiling broadly, Americana just pointed upwards.  “The roof,” she lied.

“Oh,” he said.  He turned to his partner, eyes still on Americana - and understandably so.  “She can do that?” he asked, softly.

“Probably?” the partner said, shrugging.

But as all eyes steadily turned towards her, Americana remained in place… and for good reason.  A moment later, the elevator behind her dinged again.  The doors opened… to reveal three women inside.

“Oh…” Lady Midnight said.

“Shit…” Omega Woman whimpered softly.

“Oh… oh my…” Flag Girl gasped, softly.

All three were naked, or at least nearly so.  Omega Woman and Lady Midnight still had moist cleaning rags in their hands, from the duties she had summoned them from.  Flag Girl, while otherwise nude, was wearing a little black-and-white apron that completely failed to cover either her vagina or her boobs, and was carrying a tea tray.

Then, simultaneously, her eyes, and those of Omega Woman and Flag Girl to either side of them, went wide.  Flag Girl’s hands shivered on her tray, as she saw dozens of people staring at her.  Omega Woman lifted her hand, and tried to cover one breast with her cloth - it wasn’t big enough for both, considering how gifted up there she was.  Lady Midnight just kept staring.

Leaning in the door, Americana smiled at the three naked, blushing women contained within.  “Hey, girls,” she said.  “Sorry about that,” she said, nodding out towards the lobby of gaping civilians.  “You can drop those,” she said, pointing at her friends’ cleaning rags, “and take that off,” she added, pointing at her sidekick’s apron.  She tossed in their bikinis.  “Put these on instead,” she told them.  “Quickly, now.”  Leaning in a bit further, she stabbed the ‘door closed’ button.  Then she ducked back out before she could get caught, and gave a friendly wave back through the doors, just before they closed - sealing the three naked, blushing, and confused superheroines once more safely inside while they got changed.

She stood guard before the door while she waited, her rounded buns hovering before the reflective metal surface.  As she did so, her eyes scanned the room… and lit up.  Then, the door opened with a *ding!* and her friends and sidekick stumbled out… now once more in their own costumes at last.

“Good,” she said, glancing back and nodding approvingly.  “Now, follow me.”

She strutted out, across the lobby.  All eyes followed her, and the clack of her boots echoing across the cavernous and otherwise almost perfectly silent space.  Gasping, still looking a bit confused, her three comrades trailed quickly in her wake.

Americana strode purposely, knowing just where she was going.  But, when she was almost there, she let out a little groan… as before her and off to one side, she recognized one of the slimy night-beat reporters from outside of the police station… one who, the entire time she had marched past, had visibly never managed to take a picture that reached higher than her chin.  This time he had a cameraman with him, presumably to record some sort of function letting out.  

As she approached, his face lit up and they moved forward.  Her brow darkening, she tried to glare him out of her path… but his sort naturally developed a very practiced immunity to that sort of thing and he remained firmly in her path.  With a sigh, she slowed down, and let herself be intercepted.  She might as well… she could tell by the softening clack of boots behind her that in her bold gait she had outpaced her still rather bewildered friends, and would need to let them catch up.

“Heeey, babe,” the reporter said, achieving blocking position right in front of her.  “Wilfred Winnegan, Brookhaven Taddler.  So, uh, you had an awfully interesting evening last night.  From what I hear you showed your boobs to half the city.  Anything you want to say about it, babe?”

“Yes,” Miss Americana said.  “Absolutely, there is.”

Reaching out, she seized the camera and gently but firmly tilted it so that it was getting her face in half its view, and less of her boobs - none of her boobs was not on the menu.  Then, reaching out she seized the reporter.  He yelped, but could not resist, as she dragged him in to do a shared interview, each of them with half the screen.

“I just want to say… a lady comes to your city, gives up a little dignity as a ploy to get some villains arrested, saving your pitiful fucking asses - and what thanks does she get?”  She shook her head.  “A lot of innuendo from creeps like you.  None of it true of course, but that’s not going to stop you.  Now, do you think there might be a reason the quality of law enforcement is so poor in this town, when this is how you react any time a superheroine comes to help?”  She shook her head, and then turned back to Wilfred.

“Now you have anything to say about that?” she asked him.

“Uhhh…” the reporter gurgled, his mind racing.

“Didn’t think so,” Americana said, reaching out to pat him lightly on his gormless cheek.  As she heard her friends catch up, she then used her hand on his head to shove him gently but firmly back out of frame.  Bending over to look into the camera, she blew it a kiss, and then lightly shoving the cameraman out of the way, marched right on past - her friends trailing along wide-eyed behind her.

At last, just a few steps past the now dealt-with reporter, she finally got to her ‘real’ target.  A very wealthy Delta City-based businessman, who in her alter ego of Brenda Wade she had done business with many times.  He had always been professional and pleasant… if she in turn politely ignored how often his gaze ended up trapped in her cleavage.  That effect was on full display now.

“Hey,” she said, strutting up to stand before the agape businessman.  A limo, conveniently, enough, had just pulled up beside him on the curb outside.  She pointed.  “That yours?”

Eyes wide, he slowly nodded.

She smiled.  Reaching up, she lightly caressed his lapel.  “Can I ask you a big favor?” she asked.  She nodded at her friends and sidekick, arrayed gasping and squirming just behind her.  “Can we borrow it?  I promise, I will more than make it up to you, afterwards.”  

Then, her face swiftly darted over, and once more glared at the still-hovering reporter.  

“Not like that, pervert!” she hissed, furious.  The sly grin that had already spread across his face vanished in an instant, and he swallowed and then nodded.  

She turned back to the gaping businessman.  “What do you say?” she said, stroking up from his lapel to his shoulder, her eyes fixed to his.

“Uh, I, uh…” he said.  

Really, only the proximity of her tits, and the desperate mental struggles not to look at them with her gaze so close and fixed on him, delayed his response at all.  Even if of a non-carnal nature, the gratitude of the city’s leading heroine was valuable enough to a man of his position as to be worth trading a limo fleet, let alone one ride.  

“Of… of course,” he said at last.  “I can have another here in five minutes,” he admitted.  “Take this one wherever you need to, as… as a token of my respect.”

A huge smile spread across Americana’s lips.  “Great!” she purred.  Then, despite her prior word, she leaned in and gave the portly fellow a tiny peck on his cheek.  From the look upon his face, he would not be washing there for a month.  She stepped back, and turned away - not the least concerned that his eyes immediately went to her tits and then her butt.  

Strutting out the door - which a doorman hastily opened and then held for her - she herself jerked open the back door of the limo while the actual driver, stunned at the sight of what had just replaced the portly businessman as his ‘fare’, was too busy gaping in awe to do the job.  Turning, holding the door, Americana gestured to her friends.  “Get in, girls,” she said.  “Our chariot awaits!”

Gasping, the three heroines did so.  One by one their scantily-clad forms bent down and slipped in past Americana, clambering into the plush and luxurious back of the limousine.  The driver, standing by, gulped - and then finally seemed to wake up.

“Uh, where to ma’am?” he asked, heading back up to his seat.

“Delta City,” she said, not bothering to specify a specific address just yet.  There would be plenty of time for that.

“Uh…” the driver said.  This was much, much farther than the airport, his original destination.  He turned and looked at the businessmen.  The businessmen - doing his best to calculate the value of Brenda's non-sexual favors through the befuddling effect of seeing one giant super-ass after another bending over and squirming up into the limo - looked up, and then nodded absently.  The enormous extra charges were a meaningless addition compared to the effects of, say, one public endorsement.

But it turned out they weren’t out of the woods just yet.  Just as her friends were all getting settled within the luxurious leather interior of the limo - scooting their voluptuous bottoms over across the plush smooth seating, to leave the prime rear seat for the still-standing Americana herself - within the hotel an elevator dinged again.  It slid open… to reveal the Boarman.

But the mighty hero was looking a little less mighty.  He had recovered enough from getting his cock wrecked by Americana’s cunt that he could move… but not actually walk.  Crouched on the floor of the elevator, the broad-shouldered hero’s mighty arms trembled, just holding the upper half of his body up and off the ground.  Nor had he had a chance to clean himself in any way, and rivers of pearly slime covered every visible inch of him, continuing to flow down over his cowl and his chin.

All across the giant lobby, a gasp and whimper of shock flowed through the assembled citizens of Broodhaven.  But the Boarman didn’t even seem to notice… his eyes only for a distant goddess he saw, to his horror, already standing beside her ride out of the city.

“A-Americana!” he moaned -  his voice still hoarse and weak.  His arm lifted up and he reached out to her, his hand trembling.  “W-wait!  We… we need to talk!”

Standing with one arm on the back of the limo and a long leg flexed, Americana sighed and shook her head.  “I told you, no more,” she said.

He whimpered.  “But, you owe me, baby!” he said.  He reached out, as if trying to grab her gorgeous body - and failing, since she was over ten meters away.  “C-come back!  You have to give me… another try!”

Americana groaned and rolled her eyes.  Then, seeing the reporter standing agape, she smirked.  Stepping briefly away from the limo, she strutted out and interposed herself between the camera and the elevator, making sure both she and the prostrate cum-smothered Boarman were in frame.

“You see what I mean?” she said to the gaping reporter, as if continuing their earlier conversation.  “Girl gets out her tits just once to help out and everyone just expects her to do it again just for them.”  Reaching out, she patted the reporter on his shoulder.  “Just gonna say - this is why you boys can’t have nice things!” she cooed.

Then, whirling, she strutted away.  As she did, she reached a gloved hand around and pointed it at the center of her enormous, swaying, bikini-covered ass.  “If you have more questions, you can direct them here!” she said.  She tapped the center of her panty-seat, then raised the hand and waved the finger in a circle.  “That goes for you, and your whole damn stinking city!”

Sliding in, she settled back into the limo.  She gave one last wave out the door.  The entire room stared back at her - including the trembling wrecked Boarman, though his view was cut off halfway through as the doors gave up waiting on him and reclosed again.  “Alright,” Americana said.  Lunging forward, she gave a swat at the divider, then sank her butt back into place.  “Let’s get a move on!”

She closed the door, and soon enough they were rolling.

Within the luxurious interior the other super-ladies had already gotten settled in.  Which, in Lady Midnight’s case, had naturally enough meant hitting up the minibar.  Grinning, the dark-skinned heroine was eagerly pouring from a bottle of extremely expensive bubbly.

“To getting the fuck away from this place!” she said, pouring into Omega Woman’s glass.

Miss Americana nodded.  Then, she suddenly noticed a deeply uncomfortable look on her sidekick’s face, and with a soft gasp, suddenly remembered something.  Leaning forward, she hastily intervened.

“Non-alcoholic for Flag Girl please,” she said, waving her hand sideways as if shooing the bottle away from her teen sidekick.

Still in mid-pour, Lady Midnight gave her an odd look.  “You’re here,” she pointed out.  “You can give the okay for her, it’s fine.”

“Right,” Americana said, sitting back.  Lifting up a finger, she planted it firmly into the palm of her other hand, as if nailing a particular point quite firmly.  “And I say, non-alcoholic only for Flag Girl - please!” she said, her voice sharp and cutting.

Lady Midnight frowned, then shrugged.  "Okay, fine,” she said.  Putting the bubbly down, she turned to begin cracking open the fake shit.

Beside the dark-skinned heroine, Flag Girl looked up at her mentor… her eyes suddenly widening in surprise.  A deep blush spread across her face, and she squirmed in her seat.  Then, she lifted up her head.  ‘Thank you’, she silently mouthed to her mentor, her lips moving but making no sound amidst the giggles of the other two.

‘Don’t mention it’ Americana silently mouthed back.  She gave her a reassuring smile.  Then, accepting a full glass from Omega Woman she sat back, took a drink herself, and sighed.

Accelerating steadily and smoothly, the luxury limousine loaded down with superhuman women trundled up an onramp and got up onto the highway.  Then, turning to put its back decisively towards the looming skyline of Broodhaven, it set back out down the highway… toward the skyline of Delta City on the distant horizon.

A few weeks later…

Miss Americana and her sidekick leaned up against their purring supercar, as they watched the Delta City cops finish booking a half-naked and heavily-bruised man in a badly dented and splintered set of Lorica Segmentata.  He had a helmet that featured what looked like a toothbrush on his head - much of which had been at least partially torn out.

“What was his name again?” Flag Girl asked, curious.  “Biggus Dickus?”

“Oh, fuck,” Americana said, running a hand through her raven hair.  “Phallus Maximus maybe?  I don’t know.  At a certain point there’ve been so many dudes they just all start to blur together.”

“Right,” Flag Girl said.  She craned her head, as if having to get a reminder peek, and then settled her rotund ass back against their car.  “Doesn’t look quite so Maximus to me…”

Americana tilted her head a bit, thinking.  “I mean… for a normal lady, probably plenty,” she admitted.  “But for superheroines?  Eh.”  She shrugged, as if to say ‘been there done that’, making her huge tits shake in her patriotic bra in the process.

“What did he say he was going to do?” Flag Girl asked.

“I think it was ‘decimate our derrieres, and then crucify our cunts,’ if I got it correctly, before I punched him out,” Americana said.

“Huh,” Flag Girl said.  Raising a hand up to her face, she pinched her lip, pondering, then put her hands back down, wrapped them around her torso, and shivered slightly.  “Is it too much to ask, just once,” she said, “for like, a Commander Tongue who will very very villainously finger me and then very evilly spoon all night?”

Americana frowned.  “I can put in a word upstairs… but villains being what they are, probably.”  Turning, she smirked.  “Why, you actually prefer that?”

“Well…” Flag Girl said squirming.  She looked around and made sure no cops were in earshot.  “Not normally,” she admitted.  “But soon enough…”

They were silent for a moment as they watched Pilus Longus get read his rights.  Then, suddenly Flag Girl gasped sharply.  Eyes wide she detached her buns from the car.  Stepping away, she turned to face Americana.  Squirming, she reached down, and began rubbing her belly tenderly.

With a soft gasp, Americana also lurched away from the car and turned to face her sidekick.

“Did it?” she asked softly.

Still rubbing her belly, Flag Girl slowly nodded.

Americana bit her lip, watching.

“First time?” she asked.  She figured she would have heard, if not, but still…

“Yes,” Flag Girl said softly.  Then she looked up - and there were tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Americana,” she said.

Americana gasped, sharply.  Then, shaking her head rapidly, she swiftly came forward and took her sidekick in her arms.  “Oh, no, no, no!” she said.  Reaching up, she tapped the sniffling teen on her nose.  “You don’t be sorry for anything!”

The little sidekick was just now starting to show.  Some of the more cruel members of the press - and a few not-yet informed superheroines, whose identities would be well remembered - had already made cracks about how she needed to lay off the midnight snacks.  Americana had hastily switched her to a chemise-style top instead of just a bra, but it was only buying time; and within a few more weeks it would be too obvious to not acknowledge publicly.

Still rubbing her belly, however, Flag Girl did not seem reassured.  Her young lip trembled.  “But… but it was my foolishness… that got us into this mess…” she whimpered.

Americana rapidly shook her head, clucking softly.

“Nonsense!” she said.  “It’s not a mess.  And we’ll get through it.  Together.  You got it?”  She stood back up, and then frowned.  “Just the two of us,” she added, firmly.

Beneath her, Flag Girl nodded at this - but, letting out a tiny sniffle, still didn’t seem entirely reassured.  So, seeing this, Americana changed tactics slightly.  Backing up slightly she struck a confident pose, hands upon her hips.

“You’ll be just fine - trust me,” she declared.

Flag Girl smiled, and seemed reassured.  But before she could make any reply, suddenly, their reverie was broken by a loud crash, and then a howling scream.  Gasping, they both looked up - as several blocks down the street and off to one side, with a thunderous roar, several gigantic tentacles suddenly broke up from behind some buildings and waved against the sky.  In the grip of one, a busty woman was screaming loudly.  She appeared to be Hexanna - though if so, she was missing her staff… along with pretty much all of her costume.

A moment later, a bit belatedly, the crisis alert began blaring upon the central console of their supercar.

“Well, enough of that,” Americana said, pulling her mind rapidly back to the present.  “You up for another?” she asked, as she made for her door.

Giving her belly another rub, Flag Girl nodded.  “Though I’ll probably hang back a bit,” she admitted.

“That’s just fine,” Americana said.  “I’m ready enough for both of us!”

But as she got her door open, another surprise suddenly started up.  Affixed on the inside, was a mobile crisis communicator.  As soon as the door swung past Americana’s curvy hip it suddenly started going off - with a different tone than the main alert.  Frowning Americana snatched it up and held it up in front of her, her face puzzled.  Then, as she saw what it said, a disbelieving scowl broke out across her gorgeous features.

“God fucking damn it, not again!” she said.

“How does he keep finding new contact numbers?” Flag Girl asked, curiously, as she opened her own door, and then sank into her seat.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Americana growled.  

Reaching up, she put her hand on the screen of the handheld communicator, and decisively swiped left to reject the call.  Then, that not seeming sufficient, she turned and spotted a nearby empty garbage can.

“He’s a persistent one, I’ll give him that,” she said.  “And that’s all I’m giving him!”

Lifting the communicator up, she hurled it into the thrash.  The Boar-logo on the screen could just be seen as it flew down into the can, bounced a couple times, and shattered at the bottom with a loud and decisive THUNK!

“Some guys just can’t take a fucking hint,” Americana growled, as she turned and levered her voluptuous scantily-clad bottom down into her seat.  Closing the door, she adjusted her mirror slightly, then put both hands on the wheel.

“Ready?” she asked Flag Girl.

Her sidekick nodded.  “Ready,” she said.

“Then let’s go have some fun!” Americana said, and floored it.  With a great squeal of tires and a cloud of smoke, the mighty supercar shot out away from the curb, swung away, and roared off and away down the street… taking its occupants straight to their next hot date with destiny.

THE END