MISS AMERICANA VS THE BOARMAN - BOARMAN WINS ENDING

By Violator

Our Story Thus Far:  Miss Americana has come to Broodhaven, the domain 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.

Send any feedback or comments to violatoremail@protonmail.com

"Oh... oh my Goddess!" Ms. Americana shrieked.  Her entire body trembled helplessly, as she felt his fingertip sliding up into her.   “What… what are you d-DOING?!” she screamed, eyes going wide in shock.

“Giving you what you’ve always wanted,” the Boarman said.

“Oh-n-NO!!” Miss Americana squealed, as she felt his rude digits penetrating deeper up within her taut pussy. “Th-that’s not t-TRUE!” she squealed, loudly.

“Yes it is,” the Boarman growled.  Sliding his finger back down her quivering clinging vaginal interior, he began to caress it against her tender little clit.  Miss Americana shrieked, her recovering wits vanishing again in an instant.

“Admit it, superheroine,” the Boarman growled - pressing home his verbal attack, while he continued pressing his physical one between her sleek, mighty, yet uselessly-shivering thighs.  “The only reason you ever stalked up to taunt me in that skimpy costume, was because you were hoping I would rip it off of you, and put you in your place!  Isn't it?!”

“N-no!  NO!  Th-that’s not-” Miss Americana started to say.  But her words were cut off, with a high-pitched shriek, by the Boarman’s finger suddenly hurtling hard up into her cunt.

“Yes it is!” the Boarman growled.  

He thrust his finger vigorously up into her helpless trembling slit a few more times - as if violently plugging her gooey lower lips would also silence her upper ones. Which, based on the way said luscious red petals promptly mewled and quivered, it at least temporarily did.  Seizing the stunned, shapely superheroine with his free hand, the Boarman yanked her close.  Her huge breasts against his broad chest, while her pretty masked face gasped in shock up into his.

“Admit it, superheroine,” the Boarman growled down to her - a fierce grin on his lips, above his square jaw.  “The only reason you were so obsessed with me, the only reason me and my city were so constantly on your mind - is that deep down your big round bikini-clad ass just wanted me to put it in its place.”

Gasping, Miss Americana instinctively shook her head back and forth - even as her wide blue eyes never left his.

“No!” she said.  “Th-that’s not…”

But before she could get out the rest of her thought, her voice rose into a shriek - as the Boarman silenced her with an even more vicious hammering up along the front wall of her cunt.

“Don’t lie, slut,” he growled at her.

Transferring his hand from her shoulder to her back, he crushed her up entirely against his body, such that there was not a single inch of her sleek flesh that was not pressing and rubbing against him.  In the process his hand exploiting her between her thighs became in danger of being trapped between them.  So, in what was clearly a meticulously practiced maneuver, the Boarman extricated his right hand while slipping in his left.  Approaching stealthily from up underneath her taut yet gigantic buns, his new hand lighted upon her vagina at the exact same time as his old one left - so that her tormented and dripping slit was afforded not a moment’s respite.  Meanwhile the Boarman lifted up his newly-freed hand and, fingers still dripping with her forbidden lubricants, seized the back of Miss Americana’s shivering head.

“Admit it,” the Boarman cooed to her again, while her blue eyes blinked up at him in awe, and her luscious red lips hung open and quivered.  “The only thing you came to Broodhaven for…” he said.  His lower hand briefly lifted, gave her enormous yet flawless round ass a teasing pinch, and then dove back up and, sliding a single finger insolently up into her pussy, resumed idly fondling and exciting it.

“The only thing you have ever wanted…” he clarified.  His hand, fingers still moist, stroked up and down her beautiful head - and then took a firmer grip, sinking deep inside her lustrous hair.

“Is this,” the Boarman finished.  Looking down into the face of the stunned shapely superheroine, whose body quivered naked against him, the Boarman smiled indulgently.  “Exactly what I am doing to you right now."

Miss Americana gaped up at him in shock, her lips hanging open.  Looking down into her stunned face, the Boarman chuckled.  He stroked his hand, one last time, through her hair.  Then, seeming to find her quivering silence, and the continued press of her body up against him, answer enough, his dark cowled head suddenly swooped down - as his lips came to claim hers.

And, at that exact moment, it was as if her spell had finally been broken.

“Oh!” Miss Americana gasped, her eyes going wide - as she felt him coming for her.  At the last second, her pretty head finally, desperately, darted from side to side.  “N-no!” she yelped, at last.  “No, you c-can’t…”

But the Boarman replied to her last-moment resistance the only way he deemed necessary.  In the midst of her babbling objections the Boarman’s lips found hers and, clamping down, silenced them.

“MMMBLBM!” Miss Americana suddenly-sealed lips incoherently protested.  Her eyes batted wide, in shock.

Meanwhile his hand, having briefly retracted to keep a tight hold on her, gave her enormous ass a brief, mocking squeeze.  Then it dove down once more, and up between her thighs.  

But he didn’t re-enter right away.  Instead, extending out his middle finger, he swept it briefly back and forth across the moist outer lips of her pussy - as if giving her a ‘naughty-naughty’ gesture across her tender slit, in response to the buxom heroines’ brief if belated attempts to assert control over his access to her body.  Then, coming back to the center, his finger dove back in - even as his tongue did the same thing, up top, between her full and opulent red lips.

“NNGG!” Miss Americana bleated.  

Her eyes spread out, and shivered in shock.  And then, moments later, she let out another stunned moan.  And then another - as she suddenly discovered, in the space of an instant, just how skilled the Boarman was.

For in the space of a single combined thrust of his finger and his tongue, all thoughts of her brusquely ignored consent were driven from her pretty head.  She shivered and moaned uncontrollably - stunned at what was being unleashed upon her.  The Boarman’s long powerful tongue stroked, coiled, and massaged with hers - always seemingly one step ahead, its each motion making her heart thump.  In seconds, she found hers coiling back - for a moment in an effort to fight him, although that didn’t last long.  Before she knew it their tongues were dancing together - but it was a dance in which he was always one step ahead, always in the lead - always dominating her effortlessly.

But that was just their tongues.  Naturally enough, the rest of her responded to his sudden assault as well - just perhaps not in the way she would have wanted.  In very short order her mighty thighs had swung together and her knees began to knock violently together - at just how thoroughly she was being seen-to.  This, of course, did absolutely nothing to stop the impudent fingers that, extended up underneath her jiggling buns, were in the process of mercilessly stimulating her pussy.  The only other consequence was to make her enormous tits bounce and jiggle violently up against his chest, buffing and bouncing wildly against his famous Boar-logo, as if they were two gigantic heavy sponges and she his maidservant attempting valiantly to wipe it clean.

For a few minutes - each of which seemed like eons within the superheroine’s wide-eyed, tongue-penetrated head - the Boarman continued to demonstrate his prowess relentlessly upon you.  Then, briefly he withdrew.  Looking down into her stunned, beautiful face, he chuckled, and shook his cowled head.

“I see you are putting up exactly as much resistance as can be expected from a superheroine,” he told her.

Miss Americana’s noble lips spread out, and gasped at this in shock.  But before said lips could make any other reply the Boarman, seizing her tight, slammed her buxom jiggling curves once more up against his flesh and then dove down, and reclaimed them.

But the comment did seem to awaken something within the Queen of Justice, which had been briefly swept aside by the seeming eternity she had spent discovering what it was like to be Boar-kissed.

‘Th-that’s right…’ she thought, within her beautiful head - even as the Boarmans’ tongue penetrated back inside it, making her moan.  ‘I… I should resist him!  F-for the honor of superheroines everywhere, I must!’  Her eyes, over their joined lips, closed - and darkened into a furious glare.

And yet, it didn’t go quite like she planned.

Reaching out, she placed a gloved hand upon his mighty right shoulder.  She seized a tight grip upon him, felt his massive muscles beneath her - and moaned.

Already, the fury of his kiss had started to intoxicate her.  Her outraged expression breaking, her eyes opened and flickered drunkenly, over her plundered lips.  Her hand upon him trembled.  Then, with a groan, it spread out - and began to caress back and forth across his hard, thrillingly muscular flesh.

Her other hand reached out and seized him around his waist.  But it too trembled as it felt his powerful flesh beneath her.  Then, with a groan from her sealed lips, it too spread out and, caressing back around him, helped to press her sleek flesh up against his.

In moments it was all over.  Miss Americana’s brief attempts to resist had transformed into her arms coiling around his, her body writhing up against his, as she wiggled pleasingly in his arms.  Pressed close together, the chauvinist superhero and the proud superheroine made out like long lost, passionate lovers.  Her gorgeous face tilted first one way and then the other, moaning softly as her lips deformed around his kisses - but could not escape them.  In fact to any outside observer it would scarcely have looked as if she was trying.

As she began to kiss him back passionately, the Boarman let out a low chuckle - which swirled down both around Miss Americana’s voluptuous bare curves, and into them.  Whimpering around the latest aggressive twist of his tongue, the Queen of Justice blushed deeply.  Yet she could not stop.  Her heart pounding and her tummy churning, it was as if she was acting on pure animal instinct now - her body responding instinctively to the knowledge it was naked and in the arms of such a vastly superior conqueror.

As they made out, Miss Americana’s body began to press with increasing vigor and force up against his.  Soon her enormous breasts were swirling and caressing back and forth across the entirety of his vast chest - her extended nipples caressing teasingly at his mighty logo.  She shivered, as her sleek abs came to press up against his heroic six-pack - and, moaning, pressed her head up into his, and kissed him passionately.

Finally it happened.  Her sleek crotch, exposed all the way from her belly button down between her thighs, pushed forward - and made full contact with the front of his speedo.  The silky tender skin there - where her panties would go, were they not dangling from his waist - pressed up, and began to rub and caress in little circles against him.  And of course, what it found there was a titanic bulge which already extended out luridly such that the enormous veins veins snaking up and down it were clear as day through the thin gray fabric.  Pressing and nuzzling up against her sleek crotch, from just below her belly button all the way down to near her apex, the huge beast caged within the Boarman’s speedo promptly began to pulse and throb with visible delight, to receive such a warm and tender greeting from its natural target area.

Such was the titanic size of the Boarman’s long hardness, pressing into her, that Miss Americana herself could not miss it.  Her eyes flew open, and stared into his - as if the tremendous hardness pulsing against her had finally reminded the delirious kiss-intoxicated beauty exactly whose mighty arms she was wriggling.  Her blue eyes stared wide into his face for several seconds, over their joined lips, as if stunned at who she was seeing at the other end of her thrilling kiss.

Then, driven into a panic by the latest pulse of his huge hungry cock up against her, Miss Americana’s wayward hands finally got around to doing what they had intended.  Her body wriggled violently in his grip - helping to break her buxom curves free, and yet also giving his hardened flesh one last voluptuous taste of them in the process.  Her mighty hands seized his flesh.  With a mighty moan, she shoved him away.

“Oh… oh GODDESS!” Miss Americana yelped - as her lips finally came free of his.  Her body lurched away from his, her sumptuous curves breaking contact with one last jiggle.  His naughty hand, pushed aside by her big jiggling buns, was forced at last to slither up out of her pussy, and got heaved aside by her buxom rounded hip - leaving a smear of glistening juices across her fertile flesh.

But the mighty heroine was not out of the woods yet.  As she lunged away from, she was still dazed by what she had found herself doing.  Head still spinning and eyes affixed in horror to his triumphant leer, she did not look where she was going as she lunged across the unfamiliar room.  Her boot struck something unseen, and she stumbled.  She tripped.  Her mighty legs crossed.  At the last second, gasping, she tried to lurch backwards - to keep her curvy top-heavy body on its feet.  But she was not successful - and with a wail she toppled over.

“AIIGH!” Miss Americana shrieked, as she slammed down hard onto her knees upon the floor.

The stunning impact left her immense breasts sloshing and her supple body squirming - and momentarily also left her pretty head dizzy, spinning, and dazed.  Then, with a gasp, she jerked back to her senses.  Her gorgeous head turned up - and gaped, to find the Boarman looming over.

Looking back down at her, the mighty chauvinist hero chuckled.  “Well, I must say,” he purred.  “It’s about time.”  Then, he strutted forward - his hand going down to seize and begin tugging aside his overloaded briefs as he did so.

In her dazed state, it took Miss Americana a moment to understand what he meant.  Then her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as, eyes darting around, she finally realized her position.

She had come to rest kneeling naked before him, her thighs parted - at the very base of his bed.  Her gorgeous head rested directly in front of his crotch - her full red lips hanging open, as if in open invitation.

“No!  I-it’s not what it looks like!” she tried to protest - her eyes growing wider and wider, as his descending briefs grew closer.

But the Boarman didn’t listen.  Bringing them right up into her pretty gaping face he jerked his speedos down.  A titanic length of thick and, as she now well knew, completely invulnerable cock came spilling out to dangle right in her face.

“Oh… oh my GOD!” the Queen of Justice shrieked - her wide blue eyes crossing to stare at it in shock.

She had seen it before of course - but never quite this up-close-and-personal, nor with the firm knowledge that it was coming for her.  His titanic beast loomed before her, its long veiny length pulsing eagerly.  His huge tip swayed back and forth, somewhere down near her gigantic breasts, while his tremendous balls bulged out up near her opulent lips.

But it was neither his tremendous length nor his punishing girth that truly caused Miss Americana to shriek in disbelief, nor for her eyes to become glued to him and then grow wider and wider.  No - that was one last detail, that had not been there the last time she had seen it.  For as the gargantuan Boar-penis came lunging down out of its inadequate prison, it emerged with its titanic length and girth rimmed, up and down its length, in alternating rings of what was clearly lipstick… in five separate colors.

“Oh, my GOD!” the mighty heroine repeated.  Turning her eyes up, she gazed up at him in shock.  “H-how could you?!” she asked.  Her eyes darted down to his multi-colored penis again, then back up to his face.  “Th-they were your prisoners!” she reminded him.  “And… and after what they did to your sidekick?!”

The Boarman sneered.  “Yeah,” he said.  “But I made them say they were sorry about that,” he said, nodding towards his lipstick-covered penis.  “Now, forget those other sluts.  The only one who matters here now, is you!”

“M-me?!” Miss Americana gasped.

“We already established that you were here for just one thing,” he reminded her.  He hefted up  his enormous cock, and held it out in front of her face.  “Now, c’mon slut.  Open wide, and get what you came for…”

Eyes still glued to the giant penis looming in front of her, Miss Americana’s jaw dropped in shock.  “No!” she moaned.  “That’s… that’s not t-tru-”

But before she could finish, the Boarman whacked her sharply across the face with his cock.  It was just a tiny taste of what she knew his veiny cudgel was capable of - and enough to breathly take her breath away.

"Kiss it," the Boarman commanded, holding it out again in front of her lips.

Miss Americana gasped, her face staring down in disbelief at his gigantic cock.

"But... but I couldn't..." she protested.

"You kissed me on the mouth," he pointed out.

"Oh!" Miss Ameriana gasped.  Her lips formed into a tiny 'o' right beside his penis, and a blush spread across her cheeks, beneath her mask.  But still didn't move to do as he said.

"What's the matter?" he asked.  "You already made out like a horny slut.  What has you hesitating now, superheroine?"

"I... I don't..." she gasped.  She was so close, her lips almost brushed against him, even as she tried to articulate her objections.

"Are you scared?"  he asked her.

Miss Americana took a deep breath.  She could not resist.  Her gorgeous face turned up, from right beside his penis, and glared up at him.  "Of course not!" she said.

"Prove it," he replied.

Tired of waiting, he seized her head in one hand, and pushed her lips up against his cock.

"Mmm!" Miss Americana moaned.  Her blue eyes spread wide, blinking down in shock, as she was suddenly forcibly silenced by his cock.

"Kiss it!" the Boarman growled again.

And this time she could not help herself.  Her luscious lips slowly spread wide apart.  Opening up, they permitted a portion of his titanic veiny shaft to slip up between them.  Then, pressing down, they wrapped tight around him.  Applying a little bit of suction, she delivered a sweet kiss to the side of his penis.  Her lips lingered, quivering against him.  Then, they withdrew with a soft 'smack'!  With a sigh, Miss Americana's buxom haunches slowly sank back down.  Her eyes blinked slowly - and only gradually beheld what she was seeing.

There, on the side of his gigantic penis, atop the rainbow pattern left by the prizm, was a new lip print.  It was clear and distinct, and enormous - as befit her own full and opulent, plushly padded mouth.  Standing out clearly against the five shades already banded up and down his long veiny cock, the new print glowed in her own distinctive shade of red.

Looking down, the Boarman admired the new lip print as well.  His long penis twitched, as if appreciating her regard.

"You just kissed my cock, Miss Americana," he pointed out.

Kneeling naked at his feet, the buxom superheroine drew in a sharp gasp of breath.

"I... I..." she whimpered, as if the mere act of having this pointed out to her had completely broken her brain.

"All that time you pretended you didn't want it," the Boarman gloated.  "And you just kissed it..."

Miss Americana gasped in horror, still staring at what she had done. "But... but you said..." she tried to object.

"No excuses," the Boarman growled.  "In fact, you clearly need to kiss it again..."

He seized a tighter hold on her head, and pulled her in.

"No!  No!" Miss Americana objected, her eyes going wide.  But by then it was too late.  Her lips collided up against him, this time pressing up against the lower half of his glans.

For a moment, she resisted.  "Mmmph!  Mmmoh!" she objected, her blue eyes blinking wide in shock, while her lips trembled up against him.

"I said kiss it again," the Boarman growled.  "Show your true colors, so-called Queen of Justice!"

He pressed in harder.  And once more, her lips gave one last tremble... and then obediently spread apart.  Miss Americana moaned in shock.  Her lips spread around him, until his gigantic cock-head looked like an apple in the mouth of a stuck pig.  Then, wrapping in, they once more pressed around him.  "Mmmm...." Miss Americana moaned, and her eyes fluttered closed.  Then her lips withdrew once more.

When she withdrew, the Boarman admired the second new lip-print decorating his cock.  He shook his cowled head.

"You did it again," his voice rumbled.  "Can there be any doubt now, you fucking whore?"

"I... I..." Miss Americana gasped.  Crouched on her knees at his feet, with her thighs spread wide, she stared at the second tell-tale print in shock.  "But... but you forced me..." she tried to object.

High above her, looking down to admire the way her enormous naked tits jostled as she squirmed, and the way her naked pussy dripped between her spread thighs, the Boarman chuckled.  "I couldn't force you to do anything you didn't want to," he pointed out.  "You still have your belt on, you stupid bimbo."

Miss Americana's jaw dropped, and she let out a stunned moan - as she was suddenly reminded of the golden circle that still lay around her narrow waist, nestled just above the swell of her broad fertile hips below, and just below her shadow-dappled belly-button above.  The belt that ensured that, whatever his admitted dominance in planning or prowess, the Boarman could never boast of being able to exceed her in pure raw strength.

"Now, no more excuses," the Boarman growled.  "Stop making me the scapegoat for your own lusts."

"But... but..." Miss Americana moaned, her buxom hips squirming.  Her gigantic buns wiggled pneumatically, beneath her damning belt, as she struggled to deal with what she was feeling.

"Admit what you are," the Boarman said.  Swinging his hips forward, he pressed his tip up in between her lips.  "You’ve kissed it multiple times.  Now do what a proper super-slut should - and suck a superior man’s cock."  And with that he pushed in deeper - making the proud superheroine's lips spread out wider and wider, towards the crests of his enormous glans.

Miss Americana's lips quivered in panic, around him.  "Mmmn!" she objected - as he forced her lips wider and wider around him.

But such was the sheer size of the Boarman's gigantic penis, that the mere act of his getting his cockhead inside her was a tremendous undertaking.  While her lips were still spreading out, just to take his enormous tip, Miss Americana shivered - and then let out a loud bleat.  From the look in her stunned eyes, as they flew open wide and then blinked up at him in shock, it was as if the mighty heroine had finally realized what taking him any deeper would mean for her.

With a moan, her head suddenly jerked back.

"No!" she gasped, the moment her lips were free from his penis.  "Wait!  I... I don't want to..."

But before she could finish, the Boarman had seized her head, and forced his cock back up in between her lips - silencing those trembling, whimpering petals.  High above her, he shook his cowled head.

"Don't pretend you didn't know what kissing a man's cock meant," he growled down to her.  He forced his way in between her shocked, trembling lips, and grinned.  "Your mouth already told me what it wanted," he informed her, "without any of its usual womanly lies."

Then, while her lips were still trying to object, the Boarman pushed through them, and on down into her.

“Mbbbml!” Miss Americana groaned, as she found her mouth entirely blocked by his penis.  Lifting up her gaze, she found him looking right down at her.  Her pretty blue eyes blinked up, directly into his.

Looking down into her face, the Boarman chuckled.  Reaching up, he stroked her cheek.  “Suck,” he told her.

Miss Americana moaned.  Then, eyes never leaving his, her lips closed tight around his cock.  Blue eyes blinking wide, she let out a last sigh… and then obediently began sucking his dick.

“Ahhh….” the Boarman said.  Looking back down at her, he enjoyed the swirling of her hot wet mouth around him.  He stroked her pretty slurping cheek, and then smiled.  “That’s good,” he said.  Then, taking a tighter grip on her head, he began thrusting down into her.

Miss Americana gagged and moaned.  Her body convulsed in shock, as his enormous cock began to push down into her.  Her lips convulsed, and her body squirmed, as she struggled to deal with what he was doing to her.  His enormous cock-head shoved repeatedly down against the back of her throat, making her choke and shiver helplessly.

Her abject struggles just made the Boarman hiss with pleasure.  Even as he thrust and thrust, into her, she did not look away.  As he fucked her face, her pretty eyes looked up continuously, across his towering body, to stare into his.  Her gaze never left his, even as an immense girth of veiny penis pumped its way through her trembling lips.

At last, the Boarman chuckled.

“If you’re having this much trouble with your throat," he pointed out, caressing her ear teasingly, "imagine how this thing is going to wreck you once I get it in your pussy."

Miss Americana bleated loudly, in shock.  And yet, in wake of his comment her body's resistance finally seemed to crumble.  On the very next thrust her noble throat opened up around his enormous tip, convulsed, and then finally let him through.

“Ahhhh,” the Boarman sighed, as he sank deep into Miss Americana’s at last.  A sweet heaven of tight convulsing superheroine throat enveloped him.  A large spear-head shaped bulge advanced down the front of Miss Americana’s neck, as his titanic shaft filled her.

“Oh, shit,” the Boarman sighed.  “Now this is what an ultra-slut's mouth is really for…”

At his waist, Miss Americana moaned and whimpered.  She tried to resist.  She really did - or so she desperately assured herself, with ever fainter voices deep inside.  She tried to bite him.  She tried to tell him her true feelings.  She tried to glare up at him, to express her fury, her defiance, and the invincibility of her spirit.

He responded to all of these, quite simply and yet very effectively, by continuing to brutally hammer his immense cock harder and harder into her throat.  Her attempts to bite him did nothing, against his superior cock.  Her attempts to explain herself with words dissolved into the mere batting of her tongue against his immense shaft - and made him hiss with pleasure.  And even her attempts to glare, or mumble, or otherwise nonverbally express her defiance around his veiny girth were swiftly battered into dazed, unintelligible meaninglessly, by the furious and irresistible hammering force that was being continuously delivered deep into her throat.

On an on, the Boarman hammered her.  On and on, she took it.  In short order the combined effect of her restricted airflow - able to breathe only in the brief window after his enormous cockhead had dragged itself back up her gullet at the apex of each stroke - and the sheer brutality his gargantuan penis was unleashing on her face - rendered her dazed and disoriented.  Such was the delirious state her pretty impaled head she would never know how long she was forcibly face-fucked.  Soon all time and space smeared out into nothing but the continuously blurring streak of his seemingly infinitely long penis, as it flew in and out of her, before her wet and bewilderedly-blinking eyes.  But, regardless of how long it took, it turned out that even for Miss Americana, even for the Queen of Justice, there was a limit to her resistance.  However deep that limit went - it was nowhere near enough to stand up to the Boarman’s superior, pulverizing force.

She didn’t succumb all at once.  At first her lips, which had been merely passively if impossibly stretched around his titanic girth, began to suckle and slurp.  Then, they began to suck harder - and faster.  Her tongue, which had lain crushed beneath him, began at first hesitantly, and then with steadily increasing energy, to writhe and caress up against his invading penis.  Her lovely cheeks, still decorated by her famous mask, began to cave in as she began to provide more and more submissive suction, to enhance the pleasure he received as he raped her royal throat.

High above her, she heard the Boarman let out a low, gloating chuckle - as he began to enjoy her services.  His triumphant chortles still rolling down around her, the Boarman gave Miss Americana’s face another few thrusts.  Then, embedded halfway down her, he stopped.  His hands, wrapped around her, gave her lovely head a squeeze.  Then, slowly, they withdrew.

Left impaled before his waist, Miss Americana let out a soft moan.  Her lips quivered around him, and her blush deepened, behind her noble mask.

‘He’s… testing me…’ she thought - her internal monologue flickering through with some difficulty, word by word, around the gigantic pulsing shaft that had partially displaced her brain.  ‘B-but,’ she assured herself, squirming, ‘if… if I pull back, he can just put his hands back.  So… so I really have… no choice…”

She let out a whimper, her face still hovering before his waist.  Then, with a last sigh, she bowed her head - and pushed back down his length.  Her lips slurped and trembled as he slid deep inside her, once more.  Finally, her golden tiara nearly caressing his belt-buckle, she brought her lips down to the very base of his cock, right above his gigantic balls.  She rested there a moment, her lips trembling around him.  Then she slowly slurped back up - moaning, and eyes flickering drunkenly, as he slid back out of her lips.  Then, she pushed her head down low upon him again.  And then again, and then again.

As she sucked him, the Boarman let out a soft chuckle.  It advanced steadily up to a low rumbling laugh.  His big penis pulsed with triumph between her lips.  A deep blush on her cheeks behind her mask, Miss Americana was well aware why he was laughing at her.  Yet, even as a humiliated moan rose from her lips, she continued to bob her beautiful head up and down his long dick, sucking the male-chauvanist hero's cock for all she was worth.

Suddenly the Boarman’s voice rumbled down from high above.

“Put your hands between your legs,” he commanded her.  He let out a chuckle, as with a long stroke he impaled her beautiful head, and then slowly withdrew back out.  “I am not without mercy,” he informed the proud heroine suckling at his giant cock-head.  “You may please yourself, so long as you continue to please me…”

The suggestion caused the offended fury - briefly buried under what seemed like tons of veiny deep-thrusting cock - to suddenly rise back up from within her.  Her eyes narrowed, and glared down at the penis extending out of her mouth.  “H-how dare he?!” she thought to herself.

And yet, the reactions of other parts of her were not in harmony, with those of her half-filled head.  At the merest invitation her pussy - which had been teased and brought up to the very brink but never allowed full satisfaction, either by his machine or his fingers - suddenly became drenched with a fresh flood of moisture.  Miss Americana shivered, in surprise, at the explosion of lust that suddenly welled up within her.  Her hands, reacting to it, dropped down and caressed nervously over her sleek belly - but did not yet go down between her legs to her suddenly intensely-demanding pussy.

‘Well…’ the mighty heroine thought, her surge of outrage already fading once more under the tides of temptation welling up within her.  ‘I… I am already sucking his dick…’ she reasoned.  Her eyes blinked through a few tears, staring down in shock, as she watched his enormous shaft slide in and out of her own quivering lips - scarce even seeming to realize it was her own muscles doing it.  ‘I… I might as well…’ she thought to herself, as her fingers slid a little lower.  Then the outrage came back - on the wrong side, and her eyebrows darkened.  ‘After all… why shouldn’t I get a little stimulation too?!’ she demanded of herself.

Finally, unable to resist, her hands dove downwards.  They lifted up in between her own thighs.  A single long finger extended out in front of the rest and, like a pathfinder, came down onto her vulva and then stroked gently back and forth across it - running lightly across the thick outer lips of her twat.

Immediately, Miss Americana let out a stunned moan.  Her eyes, having closed up over his deep-pumping cock, suddenly opened and blinked wide in shock - even as she took another few punishing strokes down her glorious neck.

For, even though she had been aware, deep down, of how intensely horny she was, Miss Americana was still stunned at the response one single touch had produced in herself.  Her pussy felt gooier than she could ever remember feeling it before.  The moment she touched it, a veritable waterfall of her slime began to ooze down onto her stroking fingers.  But that was just the start.  For the entire course of the night - from finding herself chained up in front of him all the way through all her other very public failures and indignities, right through to being consumed by his machine and then forced to suck his dick - all of it had combined to make her poor pussy more excited, more amped up with anticipation, than it had ever been in her life.  At the single touch of her finger, an explosion of lust and hunger like she had never imagined possible erupted within her, roiling up through her curvy and fertile hips - and making her entire buxom naked body quiver and squirm before him, upon its knees, in shock.

Such was her stunned surprise at her body’s own reaction, that Miss Americana’s stroking and now goo-covered finger promptly darted back from her own pussy - as if in terror at what just one more touch would mean.  They hovered outside for just a second.  Then, unable to resist, they all dove back in.  The fingers of her left slid inside, and then spread apart, opening up her dripping cunt as wide as she possibly could.  The fingers of her more dextrous right promptly dove up into her gaping tender opening, and promptly began going to town upon herself - rubbing, and swirling, and pumping up into own sensitive cavity for all they were worth.

The results were instantaneous.  Immediately, a stunned shiver ran up through Miss Americana’s curvy kneeling body.  Her eyes blinked wide in shock - at the sudden intensity of feelings her own pumping fingers were producing in herself.  Then, with a deep moan, overcome by the lusts she was generating inside herself, she suddenly drove her head forcefully back down his cock.  The force of her suction went up an order of magnitude, until it seemed like she was deliberately trying to suck all the previously-applied lipstick off his cock - and, it must be said, largely succeeding.  Her fingers going furious inside her pussy, she then began to drive her head savagely down onto him over and over - fucking her own face with a fury even the hero himself had not managed, in her quest to satisfy the lusts boiling up out of her buxom kneeling body.

Standing up over her, the Boarman’s head rolled back, and he let out a groan of pleasure.  He didn’t touch her - there was now no need.  Her own fingers going wild between her legs, Miss Americana sucked him with a worshipful intensity no mortal whore, no matter how skilled and motivated, could have hoped to match.

“Oh… fuck yes…” the Boarman groaned.  Briefly overcome, his cowled head tilted back as he enjoyed what was, even by his standards, a world-class bout of cock-worship from his kneeling rival.  He ran his hands through her hair and grinned - as before his waist, the tip of Miss Americana’s trademark tiara bobbed vigorously back and forth, over and over and over again, right in front of his own tusk-logoed belt-buckle.  From below, the distinctive ‘Slupp! Slupp!  Slupp!’ of her own fingers, sliding vigorously in her sacred sopping pussy, rose up to add to the music already provided by her slurps, her moans - and the desperate choked gurgles that, even after her long practice, still wafted up out of her every time his immense cockhead wormed its way once more down through her tender struggling throat.

“That’s it,” the Boarman cooed down to his beautiful would-be nemesis.  He grinned.  “Please yourself, in order to better please me,” he purred.  “After all those years of misusing that mouth,”  he added, stroking a hand across her pretty well-penetrated head, “you’re finally learning how to be a properly subservient superheroine - at last!”

At his feet, Miss Americana jerked, and her lips trembled wildly around him.  Despite her intense horniness, this remark proved too far.  With a moan, she pulled her lips up his long length.  It was quite a trip, but at last they popped free.  Panting softly, she tilted her regal head back and gave him a bristling glare.  But there were limits to her self control, and even as her eyes fixed to his, burning with blue fury, the fingers of her hands continued to stroke and play vigorously inside of herself.

“What… what are you talking about?” she growled - a thick coating of saliva running down the puffy lipstick-streaked lips in question.  “You… you clearly just forced yourself on me!”

Looking back down at her, the Boarman chuckled.

“You could say that,” he admitted.  “However, I doubt anyone will believe you, once I showed them this…”

The Boarman's hands currently rested at his waist.  Upon the side of his glove there lay a tiny control panel.  Lifting one hand to the other, he extended a single finger, and tapped it lightly to a particular button.

And a few seconds later, Miss Americana gasped.

For to this point, their duel of the flesh had taken place almost entirely in darkness, save for a couple of overhead spotlights.  The peripheral glow of that light had let Miss Americana know they lay in a long rectangular room, whose walls and ceiling and floor mostly appeared metal, and also let her know of the large bed that waited just behind her - but had made out little more detail than that.  But now, one by one, those walls started to glow - and with a shiver upon her masked features it dawned on her that each and every one of them was covered in what had been darkened high-end video screens - each behind a thin layer of armored glass, just in case.

She could discern, just barely - through tiny seams between them - that the screens were split into tall vertical segments, going from floor to ceiling.  But it was immediately clear that they formed one single combined array, for as they came on, Miss Americana’s eyes widened to see a view of herself, kneeling at the Boarman’s feet, as if the wall was a mirror.  Only this wall did not show her as she was now - but as she had been, in the past, just a short time ago.

"Oh... oh my God..." Miss Americana whimpered, as she watched the Boarman force a couple of kisses from her lips, and then push his way inside.  She whimpered, as she watched him thrust deep.  Then, far far sooner than she had remembered, she saw his hands lift… and a tremble ran through her entire body, as she watched her gorgeous head continue to bob ravenously up and down his long length, as if she hadn’t even noticed.

“Oh… oh my Goddess!” Miss Americana moaned, her eyes blinking wide in horror, at the sight of herself sucking the Boarman’s penis.She licked her puffy lips and mewled in horror.  "This… this can't... I wouldn’t," she whimpered.

Looking down at her, the Boarman chuckled at her emotional distress.  "If you think that's bad," the Boarman purred to her, stroking her pretty head with mock tenderness as she gaped in horror from just beside his dripping pulsing cock, "then I doubt you'll like this."

He lifted up his glove, and pushed another button.

The wall on the other side came to life.  Miss Americana whimpered - her belly churning, knowing she shouldn’t look.  But then, unable to resist, she turned her head - and did anyways.

"Oh... oh g-Great JUSTICE!" Miss Americana promptly moaned, her face falling open in horror.

The opposing screen showed a view looking up her own body, from below.  

With a stunned moan, Miss Americana’s eyes darted down - and widened as, too late, she finally spotted his insidious camera.  It had been positioned - or rather, she had been positioned over it, she only belatedly realized, by his own careful maneuvers and tactics - directly beneath her.  Its view, looking straight up her body from between her thighs, was devastating.  At the very center, her pussy glistened - the star of the show.  Just past that, the view ran up her sleek belly and then, just barely visible through her own cavernous cleavage, to the underside of her sculpted chin.  Her gorgeous face could just be seen - currently being battered by the Boarman’s tip.  But, as she watched, he forced his way in.  And then - again, must faster than the whimpering heroine had remembered it - her lips were sweeping up and down him; though the view was frequently obstructed by the wobbling of her big ponderously-swaying breasts.

But this was not what really made Miss Americana gasp and shiver in horror.  For, from her new vantage point up between her own wide-splayed legs, she could finally see - in a way that, being rather distracted by the giant cock ramming its way through her noggin, she had not even realized at the time - that every time the Boarman’s cock surged down into her, a fresh trickle of moisture oozed out of the tender lips of her pussy.  Before the horrified superheroine’s eyes, it almost appeared as if her entire shivering body had been turned into a hydraulic piston - in which each mammoth thrust of the Boarman’s thick plunger down her throat, naturally produced a matching extrusion of shining lubricant from between her thighs.

But then, it got even worse.  For shortly thereafter, her own fingers slid down.  And as, right before her own eyes she watched one hand peel herself open, while the other dove up inside, Miss Americana promptly let out a stunned and tortured groan.

For, for everything else, she could create an excuse.  For the way her head bobbed energetically up and down his length, she could claim her own subterfuge.  For the fluids oozing out of her untouched vagina, she could blame his merciless machine.  

But, for the way her own fingers promptly set to moving within her own quivering pussy, right before her eyes, she could create no excuse.  Her sleek flesh squirmed and shivered, filled with discomfort, as she tried desperately to come up with some cover story, no matter how flimsy - and could not.  No one could spend even a few seconds watching the way her gloved fingers stroked, swirled and plunged inside herself, as she sucked his cock - and not conclude that she was desperately trying to get herself off, as swiftly and efficiently as possible.

Looking up at the display, the Boarman smiled - clearly having a very different mental reaction than the ruinous tempest currently unleashing itself within Miss Americana’s gaping noggin.  Then, he reached up and tapped one more button.  Upon both screens past her briefly dissolved - and was replaced with the present.  But a little blinking icon, up in the corner of each, let her know she was still being recorded.

“That’s it,” he said down to her, nodding.  Seizing his cock, he dragged it up the side of her face, back to her lips.  Miss Americana moaned - but she could not help herself.  Still reeling at what she realized had just happened to her, she watched as if mesmerized as the version of her on the screens spread her lips wide, and allowed him to slip back through.  In moments the Boarman’s cock was once more sliding deep down her throat.

“Just… imagine it…” the Boarman purred, stroking her gorgeous head as once more started to fuck her brain.  “Imagine you strut up to me, in front of some other heroes and try to throw shade at me - as you have several times in the past,” he reminded her - while stroking her bobbing head, his own tusked head rolling back with pleasure.  “Imagine all their phones buzzing… and what they might see there when they check them…”

Miss Americana bleated in horror, her eyes batting wildly over his cock.  Yet, she was in no position to resist, her eyes rolling up and crossing - as he followed up on this image by once more thrusting deeping down into her until his gigantic balls were cradled against her chin.

“And just imagine,” the Boarman sighed.  He stayed deep for a few seconds, choking her - then resumed fucking her face.  “Even just if you are alone with me, and attempt to talk back - imagine the sole and wordless rebuttal I will provide, to the idea you enjoy anything other than being my bitch.”

Miss Americana whimpered and moaned - as the idea did indeed flash through her head over and over again, with the same force and tempo as his dick.  But once more, she could not help herself.  Even as her mind - what parts of it remained intact outside his immense veiny shaft - filled with visions of her own comeuppance, again and again and again, she continued to suck furiously upon him, and her fingers continued to swirl and plunge madly on and within her defenseless dripping pussy.

“And just imagine,” the Boarman purred.  He didn’t have a hand on her now - but it didn’t matter.  Miss Americana’s face twisted and contorted around his vast plunging meat, making it visibly obvious that his vast penis was wrecking her in every way possible.  Still her gorgeous head continued to bob and slam, in a self-destructive frenzy upon him.  

“Just imagine,” he cooed, sighing with pleasure, as her lips shuttled furiously up and down his cock.  “Just imagine you going on another of those stupid talk shows you love so much - to once more try to destroy me in absentia with your meager excuse for logic…”  His lips quirked up, into a sly smile.  “Only to turn around,” he cooed, as she choked helplessly upon him, “and realize what has been silently playing on the screen behind you the whole time…”

Miss Americana bleated loudly in shock, and her eyes flashed wide - while her throat bulged and her lips were stretched taut around the very base of his cock.  But she could not help herself.  Eyes rolling in her well-penetrated skull, she obediently imagined every scenario he laid out for her, in great detail, while his mammoth cock-head continued to pound and ravage her throat.  Her fingers, down below, stroked and plunged inside her drooling pussy.  And each time they pushed deep, both they and her entire sleek body shivered - as another of the visions he had outlined for her danced through her dazed and befuddled, air-restricted brain.  The scenarios he had outlined for her, and a dozen more, jostled and fought for space within her mind, just like her two enormous bare breasts jostled and fought for space beneath his pulsing cock as she sucked.  But as her eyes crossed over his plunging dick, and her body shivered as her fingers ran deep, all of them had the same thing in common.  All of them started with her strutting in, proud and smug - and all of them ended with her having been completely destroyed, having been revealed to be just a wet-pussied slut for his cock.

On and on, she sucked and sucked, and on and on the visions danced.  They smeared together like a dream within her reeling head.  Finally, suddenly, her body froze - and then trembled like it was being electrocuted. Her eyes crossed and she started squealing wildly upon him.  Her head hammered forward, and slammed him further and harder down her than she had ever managed before.  And, moments later, seemingly so thoroughly impaled upon him that she halfway expected her probing fingers to feel his tip crowning out the other side, through her pussy, her world made one last tornado-like spin around the fulcrum of his cock and then went black.  

When she came to she found herself panting heavily, lying upon her side and propped up by her hands, before his booted feet.  Her mouth was clear… though her puffy bruised lips, and the ache in her neck, served as a continuous reminder of where the huge cock now swaying idly before her had just been.  

It took her a moment to realize what had happened to her.  Then, her mighty thighs pressed together - and let out a sharp ‘squish’, so thoroughly were their interiors caked with fluid.  Panting deeply, Miss Americana’s eyes suddenly widened, and she took in a sharp gasp, as it hit home.

Merely through fingering herself, while sucking the Boarman’s cock, she had climaxed.  A climax so intense, it had literally put her lights out, just as effectively as if she'd taken the Boarman's punch.

Looking down on her, the Boarman chuckled.  

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" he asked her.  “Because if not… I think we are through.”

Miss Americana let out a deep gasp.  Her head spun up, like a schoolgirl caught doing something naughty, and turning away from her drooling pussy looked up into his face.

"Wh-what?!" she asked - her pretty head still confused, after having all the sense drained out of it by her shattering climax.

The Boarman smiled.  "I have gotten everything I need from you," he said.

He gestured upwards.  Behind him, several screens played, each showing a succession of scenes from her humiliation and downfall.  One showed her sucking his dick, another showed her fingers playing in her pussy.  Still others showed other scenes of her defeat from the night:  lying sprawled in Jiutian's room, or being groped upon the bus, or sharing an unrequited lesbian kiss with some voluptuous villainesses.  Miss Americana gasped in shock to realize that, with his extensive surveillance network, the Boarman had captured footage of all of those too.

"You came to Broodhaven, to my city,” he continued, his voice rumbling down around her, “and it stripped you of your lies and proved forever what you truly are.”  He swept an arm out at the screens, showing the many and ignominious ways in which she had been dominated, since first careening her bikini-clad butt in her supercar across the limits of her domain.  "If you ever oppose me in any way, ever again - I can ruin you forever," the Boarman said.  "Ruin you to your public, ruin you to your fellow heroines - and ruin you to yourself, since as a heroine I know your vanity is ultimately all that rules you.  And that means, I have no more reason to keep you here wasting my time, any longer.  I can at last discard you to the curb, Miss Americana, where you belong."

So saying, he lifted up a gloved finger and brought it down towards the control panel on the back of his other gauntlet - preparing to press yet another button.

Miss Americana's jaw dropped in horror.  She had no idea what would happen if he pressed it - whether a trap door would open up beneath her buxom bare ass, whisking her away; or the ceiling open up and a mechanical arm come down to seize and carry her away like a used-up and unwatend sex-doll, or something even worse.  But either way, a surge of sudden panic filled her, spreading out from the center of her being to suddenly make every bit of her, to her toes and the tips of her fingers, shiver in sudden fear.

"N-no!  Please, don't!"

Looking down, he held the finger ready over the button - but did not press it.

"Do you have anything else to offer me, superheroine?" he asked her.

Lips hanging open, she stared up at him.  Then, she bowed her head.

With a groan, Miss Americana rolled back up onto her knees before him.  But before, where she had kept her knees wide apart, now she squeezed them tight together.  Coming down, she dropped down until her head was as close to his feet as possible.

"Please," she begged.  her lustrous hair washed around his feet, while a deep blush spread across her cheeks.  "Just... just tell me what you want me to do.  I'll do anything."

Standing tall over her, his long cock waving back forth over her back, the Boarman looked down upon her.  "Anything in exchange for what, superheroine?" he asked her.

On her hands and knees before him, Miss Americana let out a tormented groan.  She threw her head back, and looked up.  She gaped, her eyes blinking wide in horror - to see a live view of herself, prostrate before him, was playing on the screens to either side - reminding her that with absolute certainty she was being recorded.  Another screen, behind him, continued to show her pussy - which, even absent her fingers, was still leaking fluids like a life-giving spring, dribbling down through her trim muff.

But, she had already ruined herself.  There was no point in holding back - or at least, so she told herself.  With another groan, she bowed her head down, until she was looking at his boots.

"Just.... just let me know what I have to do...  for us to have sex," she finally specified.  Her cheeks on fire, the gorgeous heroine dropped her head down, and pressed a trembling kiss to the toe of her hated chauvinist rival's boot.  Her voluptuous hindquarters lifted up, giving him a lovely view of her round buns and fertile swollen hips, as she pressed her lips to the filthy leather of his boot.  Then, she withdrew back down.  Settling back down until her buns were pressed to her boots, she knelt with her hands on the floor, in between her knees and his boots, and looked up to him.

“You… you were right,” she finally said up to him, crouched naked and at his feet.  It burned her to say it - but the thought of going through all of this, and not getting the one thing she actually wanted burned her more.  Lifting her head, she looked up from his boot.  “The only… only reason I ever strutted up to you, to throw shade at you, the only reason I ever tried to argue is… is because deep down, I was desperate for you to fuck me.”  Bowing her head, she pressed a kiss to his boot, then lifted her head up again.  “Just… just let me know what I have to do, to get what I’ve always wanted,” she begged, her buxom hips wiggling before him, “and… and I’ll do it!”

She was expecting a storm of laughter.  Her pussy braced for it - by sending another stream of goo flowing out, running down the interior of her thighs.  But the Boarman did not laugh.  Instead, he looked back down at her - and slowly smiled.  She shivered - as she somehow found his simple pleasure far more terrible than a thousand cackles would have been.

"Very well," he said.  “If you just can’t help yourself,” he added.  Below him, at his feet, Miss Americana moaned and hung her gorgeous head.  Her cheeks burned at what she had just done.  But, aching need dripping out of her pussy, she didn’t take it back.  At last, he pressed the button.

Behind him, one of the smaller screens - the one that had been showing a live close-up of her own still-dripping pussy - faded to black.  As it did so, the Boarman stepped to one side, giving her a clear view of it.  Then, immediately after turning black, the tall vertical segment of screen itself slid up and away into the ceiling.

Miss Americana gasped.  Behind it, was revealed a small alcove lay.  Its purpose was not hard to divine.  Across the top, in golden letters in her own trademark font, were the words Miss Americana.  Beneath it, and set further back in the alcove, lay a smaller screen.  It currently showed, in life size, a small looping clip of herself standing in full and resplendent costume - taken from where exactly she could not guess, for there was certainly no shortage of footage available.  But along the sides of the alcove waited empty hooks whose intended contents, based on the little cutouts around them, were all too clear.   One was for her bra, another for her belt, and a third for her panties.  Ready, in other words, to accept the most vital and proud pieces of her defiantly skimpy costume, as his way of adding her own sacred body itself as just another item in his trophy vault.

With a stunned gasp, Miss Americana shot up to her feet.  Then, her hand rose up and clutched to her cheek in shock - as she stared at the still waiting case.

Beside her, standing between her and the case but to one side so as not to block her direct path, the Boarman watched her and smirked.

"You divine my meaning correctly," he said, seeing the expression upon her pretty face.   "To be treated like my bitch, you must first accept that you are mine - in a way you can’t take back," he said.  To demonstrate, he plucked her enormous-cupped bra from where it had been hanging, off his belt, and lifted it up.  "Place your costume in my case, on camera... and I will do to you as you want.  Refuse - and I will have you driven from my fortress, naked and in shame."

Miss Americana moaned in shock at this choice.  But, horny as she was, with rivulets of juices even now starting to run down her thighs again from her pussy, her choice was a foregone conclusion.  Gasping, she hung her head.  She squirmed a moment, her blush deepening on her cheeks.  Then, with a sigh, she lifted her head once more.

"V-very well," the mighty superheroine whispered.  Reaching up, she slipped her fingers into her gigantic bra.  The Boarman slipped his out, and in seconds she was holding it.  She stared at it in horror for a moment, seeing the huge empty patriotic cups which she had so proudly worn over her own superhuman bust twirling empty in the air.  Then she swallowed, and nodded.  "I... I will do it," she promised, softly.

The Boarman smiled.  Then he took a step back, and gestured towards the case.

"Go ahead, superheroine," he said.

Americana groaned.  But then, immediately, she started walking.  Giant naked ass swaying pneumatically behind her, she walked over to the case.  With trembling hands, she lifted it up, and added to the little hooks that lay on one side, amidst a bra-shaped outline, obviously intended for that purpose.  Then she turned back around, and breathed deep.

"What about my belt?" she asked.

“What do you think?” the Boarman asked.

She squirmed, and then licked her lips.

“I want you to have it,” she admitted softly.  She stroked her bare belly, and shivered.  “So… so that it feels more rough, when you fuck me,” she softly specified.

“Then hand it over, superheroine,” he replied.

She gasped, and then slowly nodded.  Her hands, sliding down, caressed around her belt.  She turned her head and sighed, as they slid around behind her.  With a crackle, she unbuckled it.  Slipping the golden band out from over her swollen hips, she reached out.  With trembling fingers, she inserted it into the case, also in a marked spot that obviously waited for it.  Then she turned around.

Standing before him, naked and depowered, she squirmed.  She looked him up and down, and bit her lip.

The Boarman smirked.  "Only one thing remains," he said.

Americana breathed deep, and then nodded.  Her eyes flickered down to his waist, then back up to his face.  "My.... my panties..." she said, shyly.

Reaching down, the Boarman slipped the tiny garment off his belt.  He held it up.

"Where do they belong?" he asked.  “Use a full sentence,” he suddenly added.

Miss Americana gasped softly - staring at her little thong dangling from the hero's fingers.  She squirmed, her face betraying confusion.  Then, with a gasp, she got it.  She licked her lips, and then nodded.  

"My panties… belong in the Boarman’s trophy case,” Miss Americana asserted, softly.

He made the little bottom sway back and forth tauntingly before her, and smiled.

“Why?” he asked her.

Miss Americana took a deep breath, making her enormous naked breasts heave and sway before him, before she finally answered.

“B-because every time I ever insulted you,” she whispered to him, “inside of them I was sopping wet, at… at the thought you would rip them off me, and then put me in my place.”

“Very good,” the Boarman smiled.  He gave her panties a last little twirl, and then looked up.  “You may do the honors,” he told her.

She licked her lips, and blushed.

“Thank you,” she whispered, squirming.

Intensely aware of the cameras documenting her from all sides as she did so - whose views were helpfully replicated for her on the walls, as she did it - Miss Americana slowly swayed over to him.  With a trembling hand, she took her proud little panties from him.  Holding them up, she strutted back over.  She stood for a moment, squirming, before her own case.  Then, panting softly for breath, she went up on tiptoe, she stretched them out.  Her gloved fingers shook as she delicately slipped her own panties into place, within his trophy case.

Taking a step back, she stared at the case in shock.  Her naked body squirmed - as before it, her bra and belt and panties all hung within the mocking case, put there by her own hand.  Her bold portrait, hands upon its still bikini-clad hips, smirked back out at her from the back - as if taunting the actual in-the-naked-flesh her, with how far she had fallen.

Standing beside her, the Boarman smirked - and then tapped a button on the back of his glove.  Americana gasped, as a thick sheet of armored glass, like the one over the camera that had lain between her legs, slid down over the case, sealing it in.  She took a deep breath, making the tips of her large breasts jiggle before the glass.  Then, she turned back around to face him.

"Th-there," she said.  Her entire body shivered, as she stood before her own trophy case.  "I have given you every prize I can, save one,” she whispered.  Her hand stroked lightly over her silky belly, just above her pussy.  “Please… come and claim the last one," she whispered softly, as a trickle of moisture ran down the interior of her thigh.

The Boarman chuckled. "Assume your position," the Boarman told her.

Miss Americana took a deep breath, and gasped softly.  Then, she nodded.

"Of course," she murmured, softly.

With a cock as long as his, she knew what position she wanted.  Turning around, she put one hand upon the glass that now covered her case.   Then, already bent over before him, she lifted up on tiptoe - lifting her already enormous ass even higher before him, atop her long sleek legs.  Slowly she spread her mighty thighs wide, until she was presenting, completely unguarded.  Then she slid a hand down in between her legs.  Slipping it into her pussy, she spread her fingers apart - opening up wide before him.

Holding herself open, she craned her head and looked back over her shoulder.

"Please," she whispered.  She wiggled her voluptuous hips back and forth, making her taut yet incredibly round buns jiggle enticingly before him.  "Please have your way with me," she whispered, softly.

Chuckling, the Boarman did as he was bade.  Turning forward, Miss Americana bowed her head - and waited.

And yet, as his hands began to caress up and down her sleek flesh, she could not help herself.  A tiny, giddy smile spread across her lips.  And, despite the stunning distraction she was providing, offering up her incredible hourglass-shaped curves to his fondling touch, the Boarman did not fail to notice.

"Does something amuse you, superheroine?" he asked her - and gave her big luxurious ass a pinch.

But even as she squirmed under his caress, Miss Americana's smile just broadened.

"I'm just happy to learn," she cooed softly, as her ass wiggled under his stroking fingers, "that you were always just as obsessed with me as I was with you."

“Oh, really?” he said.  His hands slid up her hourglass waist and then forward, and cupping her breasts, began to manhandle those as well.  Miss Americana bit her lip and whimpered as her big pliant jugs got fondled.  “Why do you think I’m obsessed with you?” he asked - lifting up a finger to stroke, idly, around her enormous and delicately extended right nipple.

Eyes going wide, Miss Americana whirled her head and stared back at him over her shoulder in surprise.  Then, a sly smirk slowly spread across her lips.

“Oh, come off it,” she purred - body still wiggling with pleasure as he groped and sampled its epic curves at will.  

Lifting a gloved finger, she pointed into the case.

“You built a shrine to me,” she said.  “And put it in your own bedroom!”  Her eyes half-lidded, she gave him a sly smirk - even as she squirmed under his hands which, having returned to her gigantic yet tautly rounded bottom, were in the midst of giving it a series of possessive squeezes and pinches, as if he were sizing up how much said ass would get at auction.  “You talk a good game, but you can’t deny you spent night after night, tossing and turning in your bed, thinking of me - just like I did of you!”

Turning her head back, she bowed her head down, shivering in anticipation - even as her sly smirk broadened.

“Actually,” she cooed back to him, “I… I was having second thoughts.  You do look like you might be t-too big for even me to handle.  But, when I saw your case, I changed my mind.  After all, if I am going to be completely subjugated by a chauvinist superhero, it’s nice to know it’s one who really does care about me - even if he does his best to keep it a secret!”

Standing over her, his hands wrapped tight around her waist and the tip of his huge cock pulsing in her tight wet pussy, the Boarman stared at her.  Then, he could not help himself.  He tilted his cowled head back.  Square jaw opening up, he let out a barking laugh.  Then another, and another.  Rolling and bouncing around the chamber, his booming laughter echoed off the walls - and off Miss Americana's curvy flanks and giant hanging breasts.

The smug smile that had spread across Miss Americana's gorgeous face flickered, faltered, and then fell.  "Wh-what?!" she whimpered - her once-confident features suddenly covered with doubt, confusion, and dismay.

Shaking his head, the Boarman briefly lifted a hand up from her curvy shivering waist, to wipe a tear from his eye.

"Are you really that stupid, you slut?!" he cackled.  His cock pulsed, gleefully, between the lips of her quivering and unprotected pussy.  Then, dropping his hand down, he pressed another particular button upon the back of his gauntlet - before restoring his tight grip to her trim and muscular waist.

Americana's head spun, first one way and then the other.  Her lips suddenly fell open, and quivered in shock - and her eyes spread wide.

As mentioned, the sides of the room were entirely lined with video screens - each a long vertical panel roughly the size of a common door, although they typically acted as one giant array.  Now, one by one, those screens darkened, and then shot up into the ceiling.  And as they did so they revealed, before Miss Americana's stunned and horrified face, another delectable trophy case, just like hers, lying just behind - each containing another skimpy costume flanking another gorgeous and smirking video portrait.

Miss Americana’s head spun, and her jaw dropped in horror, as she saw case after case, filled with super-beauty after super-beauty; bad girls, mostly, but not a few superheroines too.  With a stunned moan, Miss Americana shivered in horror as it was driven into her that she really was just another superheroine-shaped notch on the Boarman’s bedpost, like dozens if not hundreds before her.

And then, to her horror, every once in a while the video portraits at the back of each case dissolved - to show the exact same superhuman beauty, in either the midst of or the immediate aftermath of getting her immaculate pussy wrecked by the Boarman.  To her left, a picture of the White Queen, flanked by her corset and trademark little thong, vanished - to be replaced by the once-proud heroine lying sprawled in the exact same arena she was in, with a waterfall of pearly white semen flowing up out of her pussy having replaced her traditional costume.  Meanwhile, to her right, a picture of Carol Ferris, the most famous of the Star Sapphires, smirking into the camera was replaced by a picture of her plunging her tongue down the Boarman's throat while getting nailed up against the wall by his cock - while all around them the floor was littered by the exhausted semen-leaking bodies of another half-dozen members of her corps.

"Oh... oh my Goddess!" Miss Americana moaned.  Her masked head spun first one way and then the other - and wherever her horrified eyes looked she saw more cases, filled with more women.  More screens were still sliding down, far behind them, and more still - but she barely even had the spare attention left in her head to begin to look at or count them.

"So you see, the Boarman purred - as his hands slid, with gloating relish, up and down the richly curved and rounded contours of her spectacular hips and ass.  "You are in fact nothing special to me at all, you so-called Queen of Justice.  You are just another fucking slut, who needs to get fucked to learn her place - just like all the others.  And now, without further ado..."

And so saying, he slid his hands up and took a firm grip around her muscular waist.  His gigantic hardened tip, having already spread open her pussy lips, pulsed with anticipation - at the gates to her tender unprotected depths.

At long last, with a stunned moan, Miss Americana tore her eyes off the horrifying cases.  Whirling her head, she gaped back up at him.

"W-wait!" she moaned - her hands shivering in shock upon her own well-filled case.  "You can't!  I... I don't..."

"Too late!" the Boarman laughed, and thrust home.  His enormous cock promptly slammed Miss Americana's tender pussy lips wide apart, and then burrowed up deep inside.

"Oh!  G-great JUSTIIICE!" Miss Americana squealed, as she suddenly felt his overwhelming force slamming up into her.

On and on, his giant cock kept surging up into her - inch after inch after immense, veiny, triumphantly throbbing inch.  He came on so endlessly, the stunned beauty thought it would never stop.  Her jaw opened up, lower and lower, as if in imitation of her pussy, as his titanic tip just kept shoving deeper and deeper into her tender slit.

The Boarman, for once, seemed more than a little affected as well.  "Oh, FUCK!" he growled, his head rolling back - his hands squeezing tight to the shivering superhuman curves he was in the midst of thrusting up into.  "God-DAMN!" he enthused, as she quivered and squeezed helplessly around him.  "This is one god-damned tight, HUNGRY pussy!"  Then, seizing a tighter hold on her rounded hips, he continued to thrust deeper - while Miss Americana screamed and screamed.

At last, with a last grunt and hiss of pleasure, the Boarman gave her one last shove of his hips, and finally pushed in to the limit.  MIss Americana's jaw dropped in shock, as she felt his pubes tickle the back of her pussy, and his titanic balls swing forward to caress against her sleek inner thighs - letting her know that somehow, seemingly impossibly given his great length, the Boarman had gotten himself all the way inside.

"Oh... oh my GODDESS!" she squealed - stunned at what she was feeling.

It was so intense, for just a moment the wall of his other beautiful conquests vanished into a blur.  With a loud squeal her buxom body, impaled upon him, lurched violently backwards.  Miss Americana ended up driving the back of her head up against his mighty right shoulder - and then, gasping and panting in awe, turned and blinked, stunned, up into his leering cowled face.

"Oh... oh... oh..." she whimpered.  "H-how c-could you d-do this?" she moaned - eyes still darting around to take in the sea of conquered faces all around her.

The Boarman chuckled.  One hand rose up, cupped over her sleek and now very well-penetrated belly, and began to stroke up and down it.  The other lifted to her titanic breast and, wrapping around the tip, began to tweak and play idly with her large stiff nipples.

"Quite easily," he said, giving her gigantic breast a squeeze.  "I pushed into them and their pussies opened up quite readily around me, just like yours did."

Miss Americana gasped in shock at this remark - not the least because at that exact same time, she got to feel his giant penis pull back and then pump up into her again.  And then again, and again.  

"That's... that's not what I... oooh!" she gasped.  

Her words briefly dissolved into a soft whimper - as even what were obviously by the Boarman's standards exceedingly smooth and gentle strokes started to make it difficult for her to force coherent thoughts through her already overloaded brain.  

"Wh-what I meant," she finally managed to get out, interrupted by just a brief tormented moan as his giant tip slid deep once again, "was… h-how can you even claim to be a s-superhero... when all you seem to do is prey on l-ladies?!"  Then her eyes rolled up and she let out a stunned moan - as, as if in response to her question, the Boarman suddenly delivered a slightly harder and more forceful thrust up into her tender squeezing cunt.

But the Boarman did not answer her solely with his cock - although he did deliver several more sharp thrusts up into her before he bothered to dignify her with any other response.  

"You silly super-slut," he purred.  

As he did so he put a finger to her cheek and slowly, gently, but very firmly turned her head - until her blue eyes were finally forced to stop looking at the cases of all his other conquests, and look up only at him instead.  Then, and only then, did he bother delivering any words to her gorgeous and impressionable, gasping face - while he also continued to deliver thrust after thrust after thrust up through the absurdly wide-stretched lips of her noble and defenseless vagina.

"Taming your wayward super-cunts is not a distraction, nor a mere idle pleasure - although, I will admit, it is quite pleasurable," he said.  He chuckled at that last bit, as he thoroughly enjoyed the tight hot squeezing of her sopping pussy, as he once more sank into it all the way to the hilt.  "Rather," he purred, pulling out and pumping back in again, "putting you caped cunts in your place is by far the most important part of my mission - to the point that I would say it is the pointless crime-fighting that is the distraction!"

Miss Americana whimpered and gasped - dealing with the simultaneous forces of confusion, and the effortless rubbing of his dominating veiny girth up against every sensitive weak-spot her pussy had.  In the process of taking thrust after thrust into her buxom hips she had been driven forward, until her face was crushed up against the glass of her own case, and her giant breasts began to bounce and wobble against it as well.  Still, even as her masked cheek ended up pressed hard up against the cold glass, pressed their by the force of his fucking, her eyes and face remained fixed entirely up and on him.

"I... I don't understand," the mighty heroine whimpered, softly.  Her voice shivered slightly, in time to each swift sure thrust.  "H-how can that be?" she wailed.

The Tusked Templar laughed, and shook his cowled head.  Then, continuing to rail her spectacular body up against her case, while speaking down into her gorgeous and captively attentive face, he explained.

"This world, you see," he growled to her - his cowled head rolling with pleasure, as he savored the feeling of her taut wet pussy sweeping up to envelop his cock, "is sick.  This sickness manifests in many ways.  The neverending plague of villainesses is one.  You superheroines, running around begging to be fucked with everything save those uppity lips, is yet another.  But this sickness, while it has many symptoms, has only one cause."

Wrapping his hands tight around her buxom hips, the Boarman threw a series of brutal thrusts deep into Miss Americana - while a smile spread across his lips.

“The problem,” he said, “is that this world is run by a bunch of so-called superheroes who are too weak-willed and stupid to see you super-sluts for what you are.”  He drew back, and then hammered back into her, making her wail and tremble violently.  “They let you born harlots wander around, running your mouths and pretending you’re fit to direct your own affairs, rather than use you for what your bodies were obviously intended.”  As if to demonstrate he drew back again, and slammed brutally back inside her, making her thrash and scream.  “And,” he purred, following up with several sharp deep thrusts, “they refuse to see that for bad girls like you - by which I mean both the villainesses and you heroines, for you are but sides of the same slutty impudent coin - there is only one way you can ever be properly reformed.”

And, as if to demonstrate what that was, the Boarman drew back until only his enormous tip was inside her.  He pulled up, until he was pointed straight down the forward wall of her cunt.  He sighed a moment, savoring the anticipation.  Then he slammed brutally back inside - and immediately enjoyed both the helpless convulsions of her pussy all around him, and the screams rising up to his ears.

“Oh!  Oh, Goddess!” Miss Americana shrieked, shaking helplessly on thrust after pounding thrust.  She thrashed her head from side to side - struggling with both what she was hearing and what she was feeling deep inside.

“But do not fret,” the Boarman purred - sliding his hands up to cup and squeeze her titanic buns, as he continued to pound and pound away mercilessly up into her exquisitely tight, thoroughly outmatched slit.  “For this disease, I am the cure.  My seed is vastly superior to that of those compliant chumps.  For every so-called superdude I shut out - either by taking his uppity super-girl in hand and correcting her myself, or simply by monopolizing all of the super-wombs available so that there is none left for their inferior sperm - that is one less super-cuck to let you superladies strut around running your mouths - instead of staying on your knees and doing as you are told, like you deserve.”

Then, suddenly, he pulled out.  Miss Americana gave a startled yelp, as his giant cock-head pulled painfully back through her tender gates.  But, she was in such an exhausted and disoriented state, panting for breath, she did not have a chance to capitalize on her newfound freedom.  In any case her mighty thighs, quivering beneath her, already felt like jelly, after the tremendous pounding she had taken up between them.  Seizing the buxom heroine, the Boarman jerked her around and then slammed her by her back up against her own case.  Miss Americana let out a stunned moan - and managed to resist this not at all.  Though the sudden motion did leave her gigantic breasts wobbling violently back and forth before him - a detail that the Boarman did not neglect to drop his eyes down and enjoy.

“As for you superheroines yourselves,” he cooed.  “Well, that is simple enough.  As I already mentioned, I have found only one thing that cures spoiled and willful ladies like you ever in a way that sticks.”  Swinging his hips forward, he slammed his cock up against her belly.  He was so long his gigantic balls hung down outside the gates of her drooling pussy, while his giant shaft rode right up her sleek flesh past her belly button.  Despite herself Miss Americana tilted her head down, and gasped in awe at it.

Seeing her look at it, the Boarman smirked.

“Fortunately,” he cooed, “I have more than enough of that cure for bad girls to go around.”

Drawing back, he caressed his immense cock down her belly, and then pushed back up and pressed it into the drooling lips of her pussy.  Then, without a further ado, he slammed brutally back up inside.

"Unnggh!" Miss Americana squealed - her blue eyes going wide with shock - as she took his full force up into her defenseless pussy for a second time.  She could not help herself.  As his impaling force slammed back up into her once more, her long sleek legs lifted up and coiled instinctively around his waist.  Her arms lifted up and clutched desperately at his muscular flesh.  Her gorgeous face gaped up at him, gasping desperately - as she took thrust after thrust after thrust.  Looking back down at her, the Boarman chuckled at this able demonstration of his most recent point, and then continued - both his monologue and the action of his big cock in her pussy rising up steadily towards a crescendo.

“So that is my war, superheroine,” he purred - as he also waged an incredibly one-sided contest between his enormous rock-hard tip, and the tender depths of her gooey and defenseless vagina.  “Not that silly business of chasing purse-snatchers and foiling bank heists - that is but window dressing for the real war.”  Reaching out, he stroked a finger tenderly down her sweaty cheek, as she gaped up at him, mewling helplessly at each and every thrust - and chuckled.  

“It is a war to put every last one of you misguided super-ladies in your place, where you belong - for the good of this generation and the next,” the Boarman informed her.  He thrust deep and then held it - savoring the ecstatic clamping of her impaled super-pussy all the way from his tip to his balls, and grinned.

Looking back up at him, Miss Americana just barely managed to let out a delirious whimper, in response to what he was doing to her.  The Boarman just laughed.

“And if this grave duty should just happen to require that I monopolize all the most superlative pussy on Earth, solely for myself?” he asked.  He shrugged - and then sliding his hands down, stroked them with relish up and down her superlative, superhumanly-curvaceous body, while continuing to enjoy her cunt - and then shrugged.  “Well, it is a great sacrifice - but it’s one I’m willing to make”

With that, he dropped the conversation - and just railed into her for a while.  Miss Americana thrashed, and squealed, and screamed.  Fluids splattered out of her pussy, as it was subjected to a blur of deep and dominating strokes.  Her giant breasts bounced and rubbed wildly at his chest, while her flat hourglass-shaped belly pressed and shivered tight against his abs - as he impaled her deep up inside it.

But at last, gritting her teeth, through the storm of sex and schlong that beset her like a hurricane besets a tiny waterlogged boat, she managed to growl forth some response.

“Y-you’re insane!” she declared up at him.  She then promptly thrashed her head back and forth and whimpered, as she once more took what felt like an ICBM launch into her pussy.  She shivered, and pressed tight against him for support - even as she returned her glaring eyes to his face.  “Y-you’ll never get away with this!” she declared, returning to the old superheroine classics, since her dick-disrupted brain wasn’t capable of much else.

But the Boarman didn’t seem broken up by this response.  He paused and, hands caressing up her back, pulled her close.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said.  He turned his cowled head down, and smiled into her panting face.  “I always prefer the ones who try to hold out,” he informed her.  “You’re always more servile, in the end!”

Then, suddenly, he yanked her sweaty back away from the case.  At the same time - freed via her own coiled limbs from having to hold onto her too hard - he pressed another button.  With a whoosh, the glass vanished.  Miss Americana squealed as, on his next thrust she was driven hurtling back into the void - and then let out a stunned bellow, her eyes bugging out, as she was suddenly slammed hard up against another surface, and his gigantic penis drove up inside her with a pile-driver's force.

She was so dazed by the speed and savagery of his latest penetration, it took her a second to realize where she was.  Then, after another few deep stirring thrusts, she gasped - and her eyes spread wide as she realized where she was.

She was being pinned up inside one of the cases - as the Boarman, still rutting away between her spread and lifted thighs, continued to relentlessly ravage her insides.  More to the point, as an array of multi-colored corsets dangled down against her face from one side, and a bunch of matching boy-shorts from the other, she finally realized whose case she had been fucked against for a time that, due to her extremely lucid brain, she could precisely identify as somewhere in between a split second and a geological epoch.

Looking down at her - and enjoying the sight of the immaculate Prizms smirking back up at him past her wrecked and sweaty - the Boarman smiled.

"What's the matter?" he cooed - as he drove deep up inside her once more.  "Don't you realize you belong here?  Like I said, you're just another bad girl, like them - who hasn't admitted what she needs, to stop being bad!"

Miss Americana let out a stunned moan in response.  But, as his enormous tip ground hard against her insides, that was all she could get out.  She panted desperately for breath, her entire body shivering.  The Boarman smirked.  Then, he yanked her out of the case.  Twirling her about, carrying her busty body effortlessly through the air upon his long impaling shaft, he slammed her up into another case, after another, after another - each one opening up just before her hurtling back, to admit her.

Miss Americana squealed, and thrashed, and shook.  Her eyes danced in her skull as an array of costumes got draped across her face, while the Boarman played merry hell with what had once been her taut and sacred pussy.  She groaned in awe as the Scarlet Witch's skimpy loincloth flapped against her face - while simultaneously the Boarman's gigantic cockhead scoured up and down the deepest reaches of her slit.  She blushed deeply as she got enveloped in the flappy opening of Power Girl's boob-window, while her own huge breasts buffed the Boarmans' chest like two lost pontoons rolling in the surf.  Her entire body spasmed helplessly as it got savaged against the Golden Glider's panties; squealed as she got slid up and down Big Barda's armored breastplate, and her toes shivered helplessly in her boots as she got ridden hard between the skimpy pieces of the Goblyn Queen's royal raiment.

And once more, at no point during this trophy-studded twat-slaying could she be said to have given in.  There was no moment where a flip switched, or a line was crossed.  But with each new thrust, her buxom hips seemed to push back up into his thrusts a little more readily.  With each new thrust, her body seemed to arch up and caress her breasts more freely against his flesh.  Her arms and legs, coiled around him, slowly grew tighter and tighter - drawing herself up into him, as if seeking refuge from the destructive storm he himself had delivered into her.

It was as if, in a precise inversion of how she normally thought, each new conquest he literally shoved in her face drained away yet more of her will to resist.  The stark realization of how many super-women he had already had his way with - each one delivered with a swat of their big bras or once-proud little panties against her face - made it feel less shameful to just give in.  Meanwhile, at the exact same time, the unending thrusts of his unceasingly hardened cock up into her caused her hunger to do just that to grow and grow, until it was almost unbearable inside her.

At last the Boarman looked down into her face - and the huge grin that spread across his square-jawed lips showed that he knew it too.  He didn't need her to say one word to see through her.  The way her body had completely ceased to resist him, and the way her gooey pussy pushed back down eagerly into him with each and every thrust, told him all he needed to know, without her luscious lips having to utter one intelligible word.  Which was fortunate, because from the look on her stunned masked face, expecting her to produce even one was pushing it.

Reaching down, chuckling, the Boarman stroked her face - while he continued, both lazily and yet brutally, to give it to her.  But he was not entirely unaffected by their long coitus, and his body, like hers, was now drenched in sweat.

"Are you ready to admit what you want, babe?" he asked her.

Miss Americana let out a deep moan - and then slowly nodded.  Licking her full red lips, she somehow dragged the wherewithal to speak out of her blendered brain.

"Y-yes..." she moaned.  She pulled herself tighter up against him - and immediately gasped as this caused him to sink even harder up into her.  Then she brought her gorgeous masked face up, very close to his looming cowled visage.

"I’ve been a bad girl..." she finally admitted.  Lifting up her lips, she pressed a quivering kiss to his cheek, then withdrew.  "P-please put me in my place..." she pleaded - her pussy squeezing wildly around his penis, as if to clue him in to exactly how.  Her head rolled back, lost in a sea of skimpy panty and bra-cup - she had long since lost track of whose - and she let out a moan.  "I’ll be good!” she promised.  “I’ll be a good obedient superheroine!”  Lifting up her head, she pressed a series of trembling kisses all over his smirking square jaw, then fell back with a gasp.  “Just, g-give it to me, I… I b-BEG YOU!!!" she squealed, slamming her buxom hips into his thrusts for all she was worth.

The Boarman chuckled at this.  "That's nice, slut," he said - and indeed he gave her a deep slow thrust, as if savoring the way her taut pussy quivered all around him, as if delivering its own silent pleading that he claim it in the spurting fashion her hungry slit craved.  "But... not good enough..."

Miss Americana gasped in shock.  Of all the responses she had expected from an offer of total surrender, that had not been one of them.  Wrenching her head up, she gaped at him in disbelief - her makeup streaked and her features shining with sweat after their long coitus.

"N-not enough?!” she moaned.  “What more c-could you want?!"

The Boarman yanked her up and out of the latest bikini-decorated alcove.  Holding her writhing body effortlessly upon him, he carried her into the center of the room.  "Were you not paying attention?" he asked her.

To one side of the room lay a bed - a bed that had scarcely seen any use so far save to arrest Miss Americana's bottom in the correct position for his camera when the Boarman drove her to her knees earlier.  Now, carrying his madly squirming bundle of superheroine curves over to it, the Boarman held her over its sheets as he might a squealing co-ed over a pool before plunging her into it.

"You're not special," he reminded the stunned beauty, to her face.  "Even the gift of your womb is but one more soldier among hundreds added to my house."  His cock, embedded deep inside her fertile unprotected pussy, pulsed with anticipation anyways - while his fingers dug deep into the silky flesh of her spectacularly rounded hips.  "But there is one way in which you are special," he admitted to her.  "Not, of course," he quickly backtracked, "for any quality of power or brains you personally possess.  But rather, merely, what you stand as unworthy gatekeeper to."

Then, before her gaping reeling head could begin to make the slightest sense, he suddenly dropped down - and, dropping her with him, pile-drivered her into the bed.  His immense cock was still inside her and, were it that of a mortal man rather than his invulnerable beast, despite its great size it is likely it would have snapped off within her such was the storm of forces that it was subjected to in their plunge.  But, throbbing wildly, it stayed fast as iron inside her - and it was therefore her own delicate insides that received the furious force of their cratering impact.  Miss Americana flailed and squealed as he drove up into her with a force unlike any she had ever felt before - and then proceeded to lay into her with thrust after thrust that landed with every bit as much brutality.

Miss Americana squealed and screamed, thrashing in ecstatic agony.  Yet somehow within their thrashing new bout, he managed to press yet another button.  For when she came down from her shrieking peak her eyes opened - and then spread wide in shock, at what she saw up over his shoulder.

With all his elaborate screens upon the walls and cameras in the floor, it was really should have come as no surprise that, in a one-up to the traditional mirror over the Bed, the Boarman had made his ceiling one giant screen as well.  As she stared up at them, these brightened… and, to her horror, began to show her video footage of all of her friends.

Above her, several times life size, all the mightiest superheroines of Delta City were lined up on a stage for some sort of award ceremony - which one she could now not recall, the city gave them so many.  Arrayed one beside each other, like finalists in a bikini contest, her friends' bodies jostled and swayed side by side, straining against their proud and skimpy costumes amidst some marble-lined hall.  Where or how the Boarman had secreted his hidden camera - whether mounted on some drone or smuggled in via an agent she had no clue - from the direction of the footage, which showed a never-ending parade of superheroine boobs and butts and little else, the intent of his filming was all too obvious.  

Then, as she still gaped, that scene dissolved away - to be replaced by another.  She moaned again - as she discovered the hard way that, at some point, the Boarman had managed to smuggle a camera into their locker room.  But once more, the view of superheroine breasts and bush bouncing about obliviously before her was mercifully short - before it faded away to be replaced by footage from some other social function.  This one showed three of her disguised comrades preening in elegant evening dresses - with the camera, which must almost certainly have been positioned on some rich man's shoe, having a shot straight up to reveal their skimpy superheroine panties underneath.

On and on they flowed before her - each new shot streaking out before as if driven in by the Boarman's latest thrust, only to blur away as swept aside by his massive veiny exit.  Shot after shot thudded out in front of her, with the same mental force as he was delivering into her cunt.

"The superluts of Delta City," the Boarman growled - nodding up towards the array of superhuman boobs and butts that continued to squirm and wiggle across the ceiling above them.  "They are the one of the few remaining sets of cosmic-tier wombs into which I have yet, in any sense, to penetrate."  He gave her another thrust, a sharp and brutish one as if working out his frustrations, and then sighed, and shrugged his massive shoulders.  "I will admit, I have not made a clean sweep everywhere else," he said - answering a question that the gurgling creature pinned beneath him, her blue eyes bugging out on every impact, had not had the wherewithal to think let alone ask.  "But, on every other team, I have made some inroads," he said, stroking her stiff nipples with relish, as if consoling himself.  "For a master player such as I, that is all that is needed.  Once one has fallen into my bed, her team-mates are sure to slide in one by one as well.  But your group, alone, has given me no opening.  Like cattle, though stupid and obstinate, your herd instinct has proven too strong - and you have kept me out."

He turned his eyes down, at last, from his musings - and looked into hers.

"Until now," he said, and gave her a long slow measured thrust.

"Mmnngh!" Miss Americana managed to whimper back.  She stared back up at him in awe and horror, as his cowled head loomed high above her - and beyond it her smiling friends swirled like a beautiful and terrible dream.

"That is the one thing I do want, and which you can give me, in exchange for being allowed to be mine," the Boarman said.  

His eyes never left hers, as he slid up into her again and again.  Beneath him, Miss Americana wiggled and whimpered in horror, at what he was saying - but could not keep her sweaty face from shivering in hungry desire, to pay any price for exaclty what he was offering.  

"You are like the lips of your team's pussy,” he continued.  “My tip is through you," he said - another devastating thrust demonstrating that it was in fact far more than his tip he was getting into her.  "Now, you will hold yourself open, and through you I will fuck every last one of them... until the obstinate herd has become obedient brood cattle, kneeling at my feet."

Miss Americana's head rolled upon her pillow, and she mewled - as visions both literal and metaphorical danced before her head.

"What... what do you want me to do?" she asked.

He chuckled.  "Just send them to me, one by one, or in small groups - like you already did with your two friends.  I'll provide the excuse - and I'll handle the rest."

Miss Americana whimpered - shivering under another thrust.  At one time, she could not have imagined anything more horrific.  Now she was filled only with a gooey lust.

"Okay..." she moaned.  Her voice rose up in pitch, and her head flew back, as he pounded away inside of her.  "I'll do it!  Take them!  T-take them all!"

The Boarman let out a booming laugh.

"Excellent!" he said.  A huge grin spread across his face.  "Now that you have finally given me what I want, I can do the same!"

And without further ado, he slammed in deep and held.  His immense penis, which had already been pulsing wildly with intense pleasure within her, went shooting over the edge as the feeling of victory filled him.

"Oh... oh my GODDESS!" Miss Americana squealed - as she felt an enormous eruption inside her.  His thick cock pulsed again and again, each one accompanied by a titanic spurt.  She screamed and screamed.  But there was nothing she could do.  The torrent of chauvinist semen flooding into her seemed to sweep aside what little was left of her soul, or her will, or her pride.  It all got crushed aside under a surging tidal wave of submissive ecstasy that slammed through her like an unstoppable pearly tide.

The Boarman roared as well and, consumed by animalistic lust, he thrust and thrust over and over again - each pounding blow accompanied by a titanic ejaculation up into her pussy.  His enormous balls pulsed outside her wide-spread slit, as they sent their army pouring out into her.  Then, at last, even his gigantic flow slackened.  Slowly, his long penis went limp inside her.

For a moment, they lay panting in each others' arms.  The Boarman was perched atop her, her giant breasts poking up into his chest.  Miss Americana's head stared up at him, glassy-eyed, as if there was nothing left inside her skull except a sloshing lake of his cum.

Then, the Boarman sighed, and slowly pushed up.  

"Nnnnh!" Miss Americana whimpered, as the Boarman's long limp penis pulled out of her.  She yelped, as his giant cock-head squeezed painfully out from between the lips of her now very tenderized pussy.

The moment it came free, a little waterfall of cum started to trickle out of her slit.  Lifting up her head, panting softly, Miss Americana stared down through the crevice between her large breasts in shock.  It was just a tiny hint, she knew, of the vast lake he had left deep inside her.  She licked her lips, and moaned.  Then, with a groan, her head fell back down and she lay still and exhausted - as a torrent of potent Boarcum continued to pour out of her pussy.

Clambering up out of the bed, the Boarman stood over her.  Then, a soft chime sounded.  The Boarman looked up.

"Right on time," he murmured.  Then he raised his voice.  "Enter,” he commanded.

The door slid open - the same one Miss Americana had been brought in through.  In the open portal stood a slender figure.  Two leashes extended down from her hand, to the necks of a pair of much curvier creatures that both knelt on hands and knees at her feet.

Responding to his command, the slender figure strutted into the room.  She resolved into the form of Flag Girl - who, save for the mask on her pretty features, was still entirely naked.  She tugged at the leash, and the two buxom figures crawled forward.  As they too entered the light of the room, their curvy outlines resolved into the forms of Lady Midnight and Omega Woman, each crawling along in the suborned sidekick's wake.  As they did so the wrecked trembles that ran through the two heroines’ buxom hips signaled that, whatever the Boarman had done to them in the meantime, it had left both superhuman beauties so exhausted that it was doubtful they could even walk straight - or, in Omega Woman’s case, fly.

Strutting forward, Flag Girl came to stand before the Boarman - then with a flick of their leashes, signaled the two older heroines to pause.  On hands and knees, faces still down, they obediently did so.

Lifting her head up off the sheets, Miss Americana gaped in shock.  Turning his head, the Boarman smirked down at her.

"What are you waiting for?" the Boarman asked.  He gestured out, towards where her other two comrades knelt.  "They’re your sisters in the superheroine sorority, right?  Well, get that fat ass out of bed, and go join them."

Some instincts die hard.  Miss Americana gasped in shock, to be spoken too in such a manner.  But moments later her sleek thighs pressed together - and she moaned, as she felt the thick flood of his semen, oozing out of her wrecked pussy.  In an instant, all thoughts of resistance died.

"Y-yes, sir," she whispered softly.

Her sweaty and exhausted body moving with some difficulty, Miss Americana managed to get up onto all fours.  Large breasts dragging across the filthy sheets, she clambered out of the bed.  Head held low, she crawled out to where her two stunned comrades waited and, turning, sank her own buxom and well-penetrated hips down between theirs.  As she did so, the tell-tale tendrils of semen hanging out of her friends' exposed meat flaps let her know that he had already been quite busy inside of them.  Her own sidekick towered over them on her long slender legs, and from the gazes she cast down upon her older comrades she was very pleased to see them kneeling at her feet.

"That's good," the Boarman said, to Flag Girl only - nodding towards the three heroines arrayed beside her.  "What would you like, as a reward?"

Her slender teen body shivering, Flag Girl gasped.  Her tongue slid out, and moistened her lips, before her eyes rose up to give him a pregnant look.

"You know what I want..." she whispered.

He smiled.  "Come get it."

With a happy smile, Flag Girl nodded - and promptly tumbled to her knees.  The three adult heroines watched, mouths agape, as her little round teen bottom crawled forward, until it was at his feet.  Flag Girl whimpered softly as her lips stretched out, to encompass even the Boarman's limp and flaccid penis.  But this did not dissuade her in the slightest, and sucking fiercely, she soon had him down inside her.  Then bobbing her head fiercely, she set about doing her level best to suck his spent penis back to life for him.

"Ah... yesss..." the Boarman sighed.  He shook his head, as his cock pulsed and grew within Flag Girl's slurping lips - and then shook his cowled head.  "You sluts could all take some tips from this one," he said, pointing down at Flag Girl's bobbing head.  "It is fucking ridiculous... that such an inexperienced girl... is so much better at using her tongue for its proper purpose!"

The three kneeling heroines gasped at this.  But, it was hard to deny their accuracy.  For, despite the vast number of super-cunts it had already dumped its load into that night the Boarman's superlative penis steadily grew.  Within Flag Girl's happily slurping mouth he swelled up and hardened.  He lifted back up, steadily - forcing Flag Girl's slurping head to rise with it . But the little teen just cooed with pleasure and sucked even harder, as she was hoisted steadily upwards by his hardening shaft.

Soon - in a remarkably short time, considering - he was fully hardened again.  With some effort Flag Girl popped her lips back off his tip and then, a big smile on them, regarded her throbbing handiwork.  "There," she said.  Leaning in, she gave him a kiss, just behind his flared glans, and then withdrew again.  "All done!" she added, cheerfully.

"Good," the Boarman said.  He looked back, at where the bed was still wrecked and stained from his exertions inside her mentor.  "Now, clean that up for me, will you?" he asked her.

Like the dutiful daughter in a religious after-school-special, at this menial request Flag Girl simply nodded, and her demure smile grew even broader.

"Of course, sir," she chirped.  And, without further ado, she went behind him and began to peel back the sheets.

The three kneeling adult heroines gasped to see such servile behavior.  Their eyes grew particularly wide when, bending low to perform her tasks, Flag Girl repeatedly presented her naked teen pussy to them - revealing that said tender slit was so dripping with moisture she would obviously prefer to be getting ridden in the bed, regardless of its state, to tidying it.  

But the older superheroines had no chance to contemplate the sidekick's adjusted attitude, as the Boarman observed her just long enough to nod in satisfaction at what a good job she was doing, before he turned back to them.  He advanced forward, and tearing their eyes off the servile teen the curvy kneeling champions lifted their gazes up to him instead as he came to stand over them. His long cock, still dripping with Flag Girl's saliva, extended straight out towards them - and in practice all three beauties spent as much or more time staring at it as his face.

"Now," he said, "we just have to figure out what to do with you three."

"What... what do you mean what to do with us?" Miss Americana gasped.

"You all made the same deal," the Boarman said.

At this the three heroines all gasped.  Blushes appearing on their cheeks, they cast sidelong glances at each other - and squirmed guiltily.  None of them had to ask what sort of secret deal he was referring to.

"But," the Boarman continued, "you made it under, shall we say.... duress."

He tapped a button on his glove.  Suddenly, the wall-screens to either side came alive again - showing off the exact manner in which her two comrades had been convinced to turn traitor.  Miss Americana gasped.  To the left, she was treated to the sight of Omega Woman pinned up against the wall, getting railed up fiercely against it by the Boarman's massive cock - while, showering him in kisses, she begged for the chance to betray her comrades to the same fate.  On the other wall, Lady Midnight was being taken from behind, her head thrashing upon the sheets of the bed as the Boarman's giant cock entered her with long downward strokes - between which she too begged to sell out her team-mates if he would rail her just a little bit harder.  The two gorgeous kneeling heroines gasped, in horror.  Meanwhile, neither of them had to ask how Americana had been taken - as just behind her, Flag Girl's slender form was still absorbed in tidying up the enormous mess the Boarman had made of her atop the sheets.

"So," he said, drawing their gasping attention back up to him after an extended sojourn onto his screens, "we need to have a final reckoning on whether you are going to be good little superheroines or bad - before I decide what to do with you."

"Wh-what to do with us?" Omega Woman moaned, in horror.  Her buxom body squirmed in shock at his feet - but none of them were in a state to resist him, even if they wanted to.  Lady Midnight was no match for him even at the best of times; while Miss Americana was missing her belt.  Meanwhile, while not technically depowered, Omega Woman was all too aware that between the lingering effects of the gasses she had been subjected to she was barely in a state to walk straight - much less fight, or fly.

"R-reckon with us?" Lady Midnight moaned, her gorgeous ebony face blinking up at him in shock.

"What...what do you mean by that?" Miss Americana asked.

The Boarman did not answer immediately.  Instead, he pressed a button on his glove again.  The scenes of him having his rough way with Lady Midnight and Omega Woman vanished, to be replaced by live views of them kneeling before him - which made the three heroines gasp as they were reminded once more, if it were still necessary, that there was nothing they did or said in the Boarman's lair he could not use against them later should they ever attempt to disobey him.

"Let us cover first things first," he said - not bothering to answer any of their pointless questions as he lowered his gauntlets back to his waist and stood tall over them.  "Why did you three come to Broodhaven?  Was it to help, and to deliver justice - as you claimed?"

The three superheroines panted softly, their eyes blinking wide.  Their bodies squirmed, to be subjected to such a question - making their large bare breasts slosh back and forth before the towering hero's knees, as their sleek thighs to writhe to either side of their wrecked pussies.  For a moment, Miss Americana's noble face quivered behind her mask, and it looked like she was going to try to deny the truth.  But then, her face dropped down and, blushing deeply, hid itself under the sweep of her lustrous dark hair.

"N... no..." the Queen of Justice finally admitted softly, squirming.  Beside her the other two moaned softly, and then silently nodded their agreement.

"I see," the Boarman purred.  HIs long cock twitched eagerly, before them, to hear that.  "And why did you intrude those big bikini-clad butts into my city, then?" he asked them.

At this, all three heroines looked up sharply, fresh gasps bursting from their lips.  Miss Americana moaned sharply.  But then, she could not resist.  Her eyes dropped down, and stared in disbelief at his tremendous penis stretching out to her.  She let out a tiny whimper.  Then, gasping, she dropped her head back down, and bowed it low before him.

"We... came into your city, solely and only to... to prove that we were stronger than you," she whispered.  Lifting up her head, she looked up at him again - the faintest traces of tears appearing in her blue eyes.  "I... I hate everything you stand for," the mighty heroine whispered up at him, her voice trembling.  "And... and I wanted nothing more than... than the opportunity to humiliate you in every way possible."

To either side of her, Omega Woman and Lady Midnight moaned.  But, though their lips trembled and their eyes blinked wide, they could not bring themselves to contradict her.  For, though they had come first and foremost to assist her, they could not deny the ultimate alignment of their goals.  Their voluptuous bodies squirmed, beside hers, as Miss Americana laid bare their true intentions just as thoroughly and stomach-churningly as their shapely flesh had been.

"Interesting," the Boarman said.  "And how would you say that turned out for you, superheroine?"

Kneeling before him, Miss Americana gasped.  She shivered - her buxom hips wiggling back and forth, in agitation, atop her noble boots.  She bowed her head.

“We… were destroyed, instead,” she said.  A blush appeared on her cheeks, as her buxom hips squirmed - but she could not think of any other way to put it.  Unable to meet his gaze, she looked forlornly at his boots.  “Our bodies, our minds, our courage - in every way we were tested against you, and in every way we were bested.”

“I see,” the Boarman purred.  “And what do you want to happen to you now?” he asked her.

Miss Americana took a deep breath.  Then, finally, she turned up and looked into his eyes once more.  Her gaze carried up to him over the tip of his cock - and she blushed.  But, lips hovering just past the tip of his cock, she quietly spoke.

“I… I want to be yours,” she whispered softly.  Then, as if to specify exactly how, she tilted her head forward, and pressed a lingering kiss to the tip of his cock.  Then she drew back, and licked her lips, staring downwards.

“In… in public or in secret, as you choose,” she whispered.  “But either way, I want to exist for only one purpose, now…”  Extending out her tongue, she stroked it reverently down the side of his cock, and then drew it back into her mouth.  “My body is yours, to use or to command.  My team, through me, is yours to despoil.”  She slid out her tongue, swirled it around his other side, and moaned.  “Just… just please,” she whispered softly - her panting voice husking directly up against his pulsing penis.  “Just like every superheroine deserves to be when before you, I beg you… make me your bitch.”  And with a moan, she fell to kissing and lapping at his gigantic penis with wild and ravenous abandon.

“Interesting…” the Boarman cooed.  He ran a hand idly through her lustrous hair, while enjoying the slurping services of her mouth all up and down his cock.  “And, what, pray tell,” he cooed down at her, “do you think has brought about this change in you?”

With a gasp, Miss Americana drew back.  She hovered for a moment, over the tip of his penis, gasping deeply for breath.  Even after all she’d been through, she didn’t want to say it, and her cheeks went bright pink - but she couldn’t force any other words to come into her mind.  Finally, she turned her eyes up, and looked into his high leering gaze.

“It’s… it’s because… on the battlefield but especially in the bedroom, you were…  you were just too much man for any superheroine to handle!” she confessed, her voice rising up into a moan.

Then, unable to resist, she leaned forward once more.  With a moan, she spread her lips wide.  And, eyes fluttering closed, she wrapped her lips tight around his cock.  And then, without saying a word, she silently re-encapsulated her final statement - by driving her pretty head far up his length and then beginning to noisily, and worshipfully, suck her victorious rival’s cock.

“Ahhh…” the Boarman sighed, his head rolling back with pleasure - as, her shining tiara flashing before his waist, what had once been his self-declared most bitter enemy put every ounce of effort she had into obsequiously sucking his cock.  It was not the first time she had done so, of course.  But given that this time she had done so without him having to lay so much as a single token finger upon him, combined with her little speech, assured him beyond doubt that with each delicious sweep of her once-proud lips up and down his shaft she was signaling her final and permanent place within his world.  

The Boarman rolled his head one more time, and chuckled deeply.  Then, he turned, and looked at the other two buxom heroines gaping in shock to either side, their jaws between their gigantic breasts.  "And what about you?" he asked.  Reaching out, he ran his hands idly through their hair.  "Do you agree with your leader?" he asked them.

Staring with wide eyes, the two superheroines stared at the Queen of Justice's bobbing, worshipfully slurping head in shock.  Then, they licked their lips and moaned.

"Y-yes!" Lady Midnight finally admitted.  Throwing herself forward, she pressed her dusky buxom body up against his mighty leg.  Then she turned, and looked up his towering muscular body in awe.  "I agree," she gasped.  Lifting her head, denied his tip by Miss Americana's slurping lips, she settled instead for suckling reverently at his gargantuan potent balls.

With a moan, Omega Woman also threw herself forward, to his feet.  She stared at the sight of her friends' lips swarming up and down his gigantic genitals - and whimpered.  "Me too," she admitted softly, Then, extending out her tongue, she began stroking it vigorously up and down his long length.

Up high, the Boarman's tusked head rocked back and he sighed.  Slowly, a huge grin spread across his lips - as down below his boar-crested belt, three gorgeous, mighty, and once-proud heads competed to demonstrate their submissive hunger.  Three sets of lips slurped and kissed, and three noble tongues lapped and stroked at him, as if each haughty beauty was now doing her utmost to prove to him that she, far more than any of her busty comrades, had truly learned her place.

"Good," he chuckled.  "Very good!  It's a relief to finally see you superheroines take on... a challenge fitting to your talents!"

Below his waist, all three big-breasted super-beauties moaned softly and their lips quivered.  Then, with simultaneous sighs, they shivered - and kept on ravenously sucking on his chauvinist schlong.

At that moment, Flag Girl reappeared by his side.  Though she glanced down and smiled slyly at the swarm of superheroine lips enveloping his penis, she said not a word about it.  Instead, the model of dutiful temperance, she bowed gracefully.

"The cleaning is done," she said.  She gestured back at the bed he had wrecked, in the process of obliterating Miss Americana's pussy.  It looked as pristine and perfect as if it had been staged for a catalog shoot.

"Excellent," the Boarman said.  Reaching up, he patted her cheek.  "You may run along to your other duties," he said.

"Yes, sir," Flag Girl said, bowing for him again.  Then, she turned and set off - giving the kneeling superheroines one last look at her taut teen bottom as it sashayed away and slipped out the door.  Once she was gone, Boarman nodded.

"And with that," he said, "I think the Bedroom Arena has served its purpose.  So, let us move on from it."

Lifting up a gauntlet, he once more pressed a button on its back.

At his feet, the superheroines moaned sharply - and, over the huge cock they were still noisily sucking, blinked their eyes wide in surprise.

For all of a sudden the very room itself began to break apart around them.  First the ceiling above them suddenly split into pieces and began to lift away - accompanied by the faint whine of a distant mechanical hoist.  The same automated cranes that had handled Miss Americana's car, and transported the blinded superheroine herself around his base, suddenly began to work overtime.  It was suddenly revealed why the walls were composed of so many vertical segments.  The screens withdrew down into the floor, to reveal the cases behind them - which, one by one, were suddenly seized at the top and hoisted away.  Meanwhile the bed retracted back into the floor and vanished, while around them the very walls seemed to shift.

To the wide-eyed superheroines, crouched at his feet, it was as if the very world around them had dissolved into chaos.  The effect was rather like being caught in a dream, or a nightmare, as everything solid around them seemed to turn into swirling madness.  Even the ground beneath their feet seemed to tilt and shift - and in fact this was no illusion, for the segment of the floor beneath them had lifted up and was also being transported through his base.  But, surrounded by dozens more moving segments - cases filled with captured superheroine costumes or other various bits and pieces of what had seemed solid boundaries - the confused superheroines had no way to distinguish what was real and what was a figment of their imaginations.

With one gigantic throbbing exception.  As their entire world seemed to crumble and crater around them, the one solid thing that remained was the Boarman's gigantic penis, arcing up through their space like the long veiny center of the universe itself.  Their lips, already latched firmly onto it, suddenly began to suck upon it with fresh and wanton abandon - as if they were afraid that if they spent even one second not giving it all with their lips it too might be torn away from them.

Towering over them, the Boarman gasped with pleasure as they went wild upon his cock.  A huge grin spread across his lips.

"That's it, ladies," he laughed.  "Now, let me return the favor."

And with that, he began to repay the intense reverent pleasure the three curvaceous champions were providing them, by giving them one last taste of how barbaric his cock could be.  One by one, seizing hold of their slurping heads, he yanked up out of them.  Then, choosing seemingly at random, he pressed a different pretty face up to his tip and, with a series of savage thrusts from his hips, began slamming his huge cock deep down her throat.  But the busty beauties kneeling at his feet had no choice.  Even as they choked and gurgled around him, their pretty faces contorting in disbelief at how thoroughly he was wrecking them, their overloaded mouths continued sucking for all they were worth.  Her comrades, meanwhile, forced to endure their friend's tortured whimpers, responded each time by leaning in and bathing what little of his big plunging penis they could reach with kisses from their lips and laps with their tongues - as if inspired to pay worship to whatever could so thoroughly wreck their sister.

In between slamming deep down their throats, the Boarman didn't give the Delta City heroines any respite.  Whenever he yanked back rudely up out of them, he swung his enormous cudgel about freely - slapping its vast veiny bulk freely across their pretty faces.  Overall, in the space directly before the Boarman's waist, it was as if a twisted little contest was going on - in which the Boarman's big penis competed to demonstrate its utter contempt for the three once-proud superheroines both all over and inside their beautiful makes faces; and the busty kneeling heroines in turn competed to demonstrate which of them could show the abject devotion to his pleasure in response.  Over and over, the Boarman's big penis choked and battered them, and in reply they kissed it and licked it and sucked it as if their noble souls depended on it.

As their three way heroine-on-cock duel continued - in which the heroines seemed to be coming off far the worse if their moaning was anything to judge by - the deconstructed superhero lair gradually reformed around them as if according to his supreme throbbing will.  The ranks of cases lowered and inserted themselves into row upon row of identical cases, stretching out into the distance to either side.  Various larger trophies, including Americana's car, once more became visible looming over them from above.  The control console at which Miss Americana had found the Boarman, when first encountering him within his lair, rose up and reformed behind them.

Eyes darting around over the huge genitals continuing filling their faces, the three kneeling heroines could only get bare glimpses of the new world they found themselves in, as it once more became still and solid around them.  But, eyes craning backwards, the one feature none of them could miss was the array of trophy cases - rank upon rank of them, to the point there had to be hundreds in all - that now appeared behind them.  Each one, filled with the skimpy costume of another villainess, or occasional superheroine.  They shivered in shock at the sight - but their lips, wrapped wide around him, could not stop slurping.

Then, they had all thoughts of the cases - or pretty much anything else - briefly wiped out of their struggling minds; for the Boarman, at last, was nearing his peak.

"Oh, yeah!  Oh, yeah!" the mighty hero howled.  Seizing a tight hold upon their heads, he pumped and pumped for all he was worth - long past caring exactly which pair of luscious once-haughty lips he was hollowing out at that particular second.  "Get ready, you fucking sluts!  Here it comes!" he crowed.

The kneeling superheroines moaned at this - but, once more, there was nothing they could do but suck harder.  

"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" the Boarman howled.  "H-here it comes.  Take it, you fucking SLUTS!"

And at the last second he yanked up out of the latest super-throat he'd been fucking - Miss Americana's, not that he knew or cared - and erupted all over their pretty, tighly-clustered faces.

"AIIIEEE!" the three heroines all squealed.  Trapped upon their knees, their buxom bodies wiggled and shivered in shock.  Their eyes blinked wide in stunned bewilderment - as, just as the world had almost seemed to stabilize around them a titanic explosion of sticky white goo hurtled out seemingly in all directions to turn it instead into a sea of pearly white.  Pulsing again and again, the Boarman's gigantic penis eagerly unloaded all over them - sending tendrils arcing up onto the tops of their shivering heads, splattering across their high cheeks, and pouring into their open mouths.  Even having impregnated all of them, plus five wicked villainesses, all in the same night, the Boarman's gigantic balls seemed almost bottomless.  Soon a tide of excess seed was dripping down their chins and spattering into their deep jiggling cleavage.

At last, with a sigh, the Boarman shot one last spurt and then went limp.  Stepping back, he looked down, and surveyed his handiwork.

"Oooohhh..." Miss Americana moaned softly.  Her lovely blue eyes blinked slowly - almost entirely blinded by thick waves of dripping cum.  To either side of her, the proud masked countenances of Lady Midnight and Omega Woman did likewise.

"What... what happened?" Lady Midnight asked - her eyes also blinking drunkenly, under the thick layer of shiny white seed that covered her elegant ebony features.

"Just a gift," the Boarman chuckled.  "A reward for becoming good little superheroines."  He cocked his tusked head, and raised an eyebrow within his cowl.  "What do you say when you get a gift from your worthy master, girls?" he suddenly asked, sharply.

Omega Woman gasped, at his tone, and rose up slightly upon her haunches.  "Th-thank you!" she said - with the tone of a schoolgirl hoping that her correct answer will make up for being caught with bad posture.

The Boarman nodded.  "You may rise," he said to them.  Then, as they did so, he walked around to the other side of the control console, and took up position behind it.

Lifting up from their haunches, the three superheroines stood up in a row before him.  After such a long period on their knees, their sleek and sculpted legs were shaky for a few seconds.  And yet, old habits died hard.  Finding themselves standing before them, their hands lifted up and instinctively started primping themselves.  Reaching up, the teased and fluffed up their hair - despite the tendrils of semen all three of them had shot through there.

Omega Woman started to reach up to clean her face - but then she saw the Boarman waving a chiding finger at her and, with a gasp, swiftly withdrew her hand.  The others, seeing this, did likewise - and learning swiftly to divine his wishes, did not remove a single dollop of the immense quantity of his cum that was splattered across them.  But even so, they could not help themselves.  Needing somewhere else to put their hands, out of long custom and practice, they dropped them down and parked them on their buxom hips.  Soon enough they all stood in a row before him and, mighty thighs spreading apart, adopted their habitual power stances.  

And yet, as they posed before him, looking almost like they were bask in the adulation of the press or some other more comfortable way of presenting themselves, despite the similarity of their poses the three heroines looked vastly different from how they had when first strutting confidently into the Boarman's city.  Every last one, between her wrists and her knees, was naked.  A spattering pattern of the Boarman's semen, worthy of an abstract painting, covered their faces.  More coated their breasts, with swaying tendrils of Boar-cum hanging from their stiff and extended nipples.  Between their mighty thighs their naked pussies glistened - and from each of their exposed meat flaps a few more tendrils of Boar-cum hung down - which, of course, had nothing whatsoever to do with the immense amount splattered all over their faces and busts.

But despite their situation, surprisingly enough, they seemed the opposite of depressed.  Underneath his dripping cum their lips smiled, giddily.  The tension and self-denial they had experienced for so long with regard to the Boarman was gone.  They had been subjugated to him, utterly and completely, without hope of respite... and could take comfort in the serenity of total submission and failure.

"So... what are you going to do to us now?" Miss Americana asked.  She tried not to sound eager, and failed.

"You'll find out soon," the Boarman promised.  "But first - go back into your cases.  We're going to record one short segment, and then you ladies will get what you deserve."

The three heroines turned around - and gasped sharply.  Just behind them, they realized, amidst the sea of trophy cases, their own had been lined up in a little row.  Their logos emblazoned proudly atop them, and their little costumes hung along the sides.  Their eyes blinked wide, to see this.

"What... what we deserve?" Lady Midnight asked.

"What's... what's that?" Omega Woman asked, rotating back around at her waist to face him - her enormous, cum-dripping breasts swaying ponderously in the process.

The Boarman smiled.  "Do as your told, and you'll find out," he assured her.

The heroines gasped.  But, none of them could keep an eager wiggle out of their large round bottoms as, standing side by side, they contemplated it.  One by one they licked their cum-stained lips, and their eyes grew distant - as if imagining the many filthy possibilities for what he might have in store, and finding each more thrilling than the last.

"Okay!" Miss Americana announced at last, happily - speaking for all of them.

Turning, the three heroines obediently strutted up to their own trophy cases.  Shivering slightly, they stepped inside - as if turning their own naked bodies into mannequins, on display in between the skimpy pieces of their own surrendered costumes.  Blushes appearing on their cheeks, and breath coming quickly, they turned back around and faced the dark and ruthless hero who had tamed them.

"Why don't you ladies give us a summary of your evening?" the Boarman asked them.

The three heroines squirmed.  Once more, based on the large screen behind him, it was intensely obvious they were being filmed.  Pits formed in their stomachs - but it did not dispel the giddiness that still filled them.  Their broad bellies wiggled back and forth, as they squirmed.  But, at the realization that they would have to give him what he wanted to be given it to like they wanted, they breathed deep - and then finally answered.

"We came," Miss Americana said, from within her case, "to show up the Boarman."

"I see," he said.  "And how did that work out for you?"

The three heroines moaned softly - and then hung their heads.

"We... were defeated... utterly," Lady Midnight said softly.

"The Boarman's foes proved far too dangerous for... for mere superheroines, such as we," Omega Woman admitted.

"And then what happened?" the Boarman asked.

They lifted their wide eyes blinking wide.

"The Boarman saved us," Lady Midnight said.  She took a deep breath, making her vast ebony breasts shake under a thick layer of his pearly slime.  "Saved us... from our own stupidity and foolishness," she quickly rushed to clarify.

Omega Woman nodded her own semen-covered head vigorously.  "He saved us from our own folly...." she said.  Putting a hand down, she stroked it lightly over her belly, just above her leaking pussy, and sighed.  "He taught us.. the error of our ways..." she added, her buxom hips wiggling.

"Th-thank you, Boarman," Miss Americana said.  "F-for everything..." she added, wistfully.

The Boarman nodded, satisfied.  "Very good, ladies," he said.  "Now that that is done," he said, "we can move on to your next step for this evening."

The three superheroines whimpered softly.  Shame at what they had just said - one more piece of pride-ruining evidence they had handed him, on top of the mountain he already had - warred with the sudden surge of lust at that news.  They wiggled back and forth, bodies shivering in anticipation.

"What.. what is it?" Americana asked, quivering with excitement.

"Are you going to have us dance for your pleasure?" Lady Midnight suggested, hopefully.

"Or bring us back to your bedroom?" Omega Woman asked.

"Or unmask us and make us serve your secret identity, too?" Miss Americana asked, licking her lips.

At the three superhuman beauties' eager suggestions, the Boarman chuckled, while fiddling with his controls.

"Well, I think you can probably figure it out, ladies," he said.  Upon his screen, he had a live view of the three of them wiggling in their little cases.  With a wave of his hand, he swept an overlay into place - which was not replicated on the giant screen behind him.  Then he began to adjust some settings.

"But, to review," he said - as his fingers fiddled with a different set of controls than the ones the frustratedly-squirming superheroines really wished he would seize hold of - "You three ladies all came to my city and, in the space of a single night, begged to be taken into my lair.  Once here, you opened yourself up, and let me have my way with you."

The Boarman made a final adjustment on his controls.  Upon the screen, using a converted alien bio-sensor far more advanced than the one the Hyboria Hospital tech had used on Flag Girl's tummy, little boxes appeared beside each squirming superheroine - showing him, at great magnification, the interior of their wombs.

Their cycles having been synced, all three of the curvaceous crime-fighters had all just recently ovulated.  But, though close, their cycles were not perfectly aligned - and the exact  position of each heroine's egg within her womb varied from one to the next.  As it happened - very much not by chance - the distance his ejaculation had had to travel was the inverse of the order in which he had taken them - such that, like a time-on-target artillery barrage, each tremendous sperm sortie he had unleashed up into them was all arriving at the same time.

Upon the screens, within the wombs of the busty and oblivious champions, the Boarman observed a horde of flailing little warriors, each swarming like a brilliant solar corona around one hapless and fertile, superhumanly-endowed ovum.

"And for that service " the Boarman said, watching the screen intently, "you are about to receive your kind's customary payment…"

All at once, the desperate defenses of the heroines' sacred ova broke down.  A single victorious Boar-sperm wriggled its way inside each of them.  And, through the heightened intuition that came with being a superheroine, all three of the busty beauties seemed to be able to sense it.  As one their eyes widened and their jaws dropped open, as they suddenly gasped for breath.  In unison their mighty thighs spread wide apart and trembled, while their bodies quivered - as if they could feel the Boarman's seed inflicting one last deep and exceptionally total penetration upon them.  Then, a moment later, it passed - but the experience seemed to leave them dazed and squirming, lips gasping softly for breath.

"Now our transaction is complete," the Boarman continued, to the three panting and exceedingly well-fertilized superheroines.  "Yet, you still want more from me.  Is that correct?"

Still breathing hard and fast, all three impregnated heroines eagerly nodded.  

“Well then,” the Boarman said, “I think there’s only one thing to be done with you.  Are you ready?”

Their faces lit up.

“Yes, please!” Lady Midnight gasped.

“Please, give it to us!” Omega Woman begged.

“We deserve it, I promise!” Miss Americana said.

"Alright," the Boarman said, smiling.  “Then, let’s send you ladies where you belong!”  And with that, he punched a button.

The ground suddenly slid out from under their feet.  The three heroines gasped - and then screamed, loudly, as they suddenly plunged down out of his sight.

“AAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEE!” Miss Americana squealed as she and her two buxom comrades both plummeted down what proved to be a long metal chute.  Even Omega Woman was in no state to resist and went hurtling down the tube along with her comrades.  The three heroines squealed as they were blown upwards and then back down, losing all orientation.

In a dark alley in central Broodhaven, a small aperture opened in the side of a building.  With a wail, all three heroines tumbled out - and then landed sprawled out one beside the other  Lifting their heads, moaning, they gasped - to find themselves laying upon vast heaps of garbage.  A moment later the metal chute rattled again - and then spat out another heap of refuse, to splatter all over them.  The mighty heroines moaned, as they found themselves heaped with still more trash, to go with the mountains of it their precious bodies were draped across.

In the wake of the rain of trash, a little speaker uncovered itself upon the side of the building, and spoke down at the dazed and sprawled superheroines.

“You’re welcome for the fucks, ladies,” the Boarman’s voice rasped down at them.  “But, when you get horny for more, remember - don’t call me, I’ll call you.  When I want some more Delta City pussy, I’ll let you know.  In the meantime, take good care of the gifts I gave you.  You know what happens if you try to displease me in any way, ever again…”

With that, the cover of the microphone rose back up and sealed itself - followed moments later by the cover of the chute.  Within seconds, the side of the building looked like just another graffiti-covered stretch of inner-city ruin, like dozens more all around it.

Left alone atop the dense pile of garbage, the three heroines moaned, and their heads wobbled.

“Wh-what an asshole!” Lady Midnight moaned - a banana peel hanging down sultrily over half of her cum-splattered ebony face.

“What…what a sexist pig!” Omega Woman hissed - a used takeout container perched at a jaunty angle atop of her lovely head.

Between them, Miss Americana took a deep breath.  She had a number of used condoms - none of the Boarman's it could be easily assumed - littered all over her.  She took a deep breath, and then exhaled.  “What... what a m-MAN!” she finally sighed.

All three gasped.  Their bodies squirmed, faces quivering - as they digested each other’s words.  Then, at last, throwing their heads back, all three let out a moan of agreement with Miss Americana’s verdict.  And, with that, surrendering to their utter exhaustion, their heads collapsed backwards.  Their mighty buxom bodies arched briefly, and then sunk back down to lie in supine, exhausted surrender upon the heaps of trash.

Down below, two drivers sat in the cab of the rumbling garbage truck.  The passenger turned to face the driver.

“Why we got to come all the way out here for just one load?” he asked.

One hand on the wheel, the driver shrugged.  “Dunno.  Who cares?”  Reaching out, he slapped the side of the truck.  “Let’s get this load of filthy trash back where it belongs!” he said.

With a rumble, the truck jerked into gear, and then lurched forward.  Up top, the subjugated superheroines moaned, as the sudden motion made their large breasts wobble and sway amidst the night air.  But their moans did not last for long, and they soon settled down again into their assigned place amidst the rest of the refuse.  Meanwhile the truck, bearing the words ‘Delta City Dump’ on its filthy side, trundled out into the street and, turning towards a distant skyline faintly visible in the growing dawn light, set out on the long road back to where its cargo was bound.

Several months later, the Boarman lounged back on his console.  He placed a call, and then waited, expectantly.  Within a few rings, it picked up.

"I'm so sorry... I came as quickly as I could." Miss Americana said, breathlessly.

She knelt at the center of a large bed.  Beside her, Omega Woman and Lady Midnight also crouched, also panting.  They had come sprinting when the alert had come in, to the new secret control room at the heart of their team base.  Calls from that particular code could only be accepted within this room.  It would not be good, after all, for one not yet initiated to know who actually ran things now.

That the secret communication room was dominated by a large circular bed was for two reasons.  One, it was better suited to their steadily changing physiques.  And second, it would prove useful, if their secret master ever deigned to come and communicate with them in person.

To date, he never had.  But, hope springs eternal - particularly in the smitten hearts of certain superheroines.

"What.... what do you need?" Miss Americana asked.

Side by side, kneeling on the bed, she and her friends squirmed.  Each of them wore a modified version of their usual skimpy costumes.  They had to be modified, to adapt to the steadily changing bodies beneath them.  Though obsessive exercise had kept all of their figures as sleek and toned as ever, it could do nothing about the steadily rising bumps appearing in their bellies.  Each of them, based on the swell of her once-flat flesh above her little super-panties, was at least seven months' pregnant.  Their breasts too had expanded, to prepare for the demands of what was growing inside them - so that, already enormous, their various super-bras or bustiers had had to have their already gigantic cups expanded out to what were now truly ludicrous dimensions.

"I'll get right to the point," the Boarman said.  Sitting back in his chair, he folded his massive arms behind his tusk-tipped head, and smiled.

"I have another super-villainess crisis brewing," he admitted.  "And I think two superheroines would just be perfect to help deal with it."  He chuckled.  "Why, maybe they could even show me up.  You never know..."

At this suggestion, the three superheroines gasped.  Rubbing their bellies, they squirmed - their voluptuous bottoms wiggling back and forth atop the sheets in their enlarged, if still defiantly inadequate, super-panties.  To either side, Omega Woman and Lady Midnight could not keep the disappointment off their faces that his request had not been for them to come and suck his dick.  But between them, Miss Americana's shocked face seemed focused on a much more immediate topic.

"T-two heroines?!" she gasped.  She lifted up higher upon her haunches, making her huge breasts slosh in its enormous bra, over her bulging belly.  "Wh-what happened to the three I just sent?" she demanded.

Upon the other screen, the Boarman's smirk broadened.

To either side of his chair - unseen, just out of frame, to the three impregnated heroines squirming on the other side of his screen - two curvy figures knelt.  Their heads, bowed low, were in the midst of bobbing and slurping obsequiously.  Reaching out, the Boarman idly toyed with the two bikinis that lay in dainty heaps upon his desk - also just out of frame to the three heroines.  One was made of fur; the other of white silk.

"Yeah, the, ah, environment of Broodhaven... proved much too strong for them," the Boarman said.  He rolled Jungle Babe and Got Gal's bikinis back and forth in his fingertips, while down below the two blondes moaned softly - and continued sucking his cock.  Further down, below the epic swells of their rounded derrieres, each of their bare pussies was leaking epic quantities of semen down the interiors of their thighs.

"They were all made short work of," he concluded.

Dropping the bikinis on the countertop, he gave a wave of his hand.  Behind him, the third member of the latest crew sent to 'assist him' - and to show their own superiority, or at least they had quite confidently believed as they strutted smirking into his city - lay upon a wheeled bed, curled up on her side.  Her position left her ass facing back towards the Boarman - and from her well-displayed cunt, a waterfall of semen poured down her ample buttock and to the bed.  As the Boarman glanced back at her, she let out a tiny moan - as if the experience of getting her worldview corrected atop his cock had been so devastating as to leave her catatonic.  Only her boots and a few assorted other bits of paraphernalia littered around the bed identified her as Amazing Babe.  Said heroine's shorts and halter top lay a little further down the Boarman's desk from her comrades' bikinis.

To either side of the little bed, stood two lithe sidekicks.  They were almost entirely naked, save for their masks - which gave them away as Got Chick and Jungle Lass.  Their bellies were swollen up, indicating they were a few months pregnant - having been sent together on a 'teen-only mission' to Broodhaven that had ended up, naturally enough, with both of them in the Boarman's bed.  

Indeed, it had been their sidekicks' delicate condition that had partially motivated Jungle Babe and Got Gal to come as well, and give the foul Boarman a piece of their minds.  Which, technically, they were doing - if you counted giving him superheroine brain.  

At the wave of the Boarman's hand, they gasped.  Then, they nodded.  Despite their delicate conditions, they seized Amazing Babe's bed, and began to wheel the moaning superheroine off to recuperate from getting her first taste of a real superhero's dick.

Turning back around, the Boarman faced back to the screen upon which Miss Americana and her comrades were still gaping up at him.

"Now, as I was saying," he continued idly, "send a redhead and an Asian this time."  He stroked the bobbing blonde head slurping at him - not bothering to notice which one, even as her lips quivered against him in gratitude for the attention.  "I have it on good authority that this next villainess is, ah, uniquely vulnerable to redheads and Asian superheroines, specifically."

Miss Americana licked her lips, and moaned.  A squirm ran through her voluptuous impregnated body.  Then, slowly, she nodded.

"Of... of course ..." she said.  "And, ah - which villainess is this exactly?" she asked.

"Uh.... good question," the Boarman admitted.  He was slightly slower on the uptake than usual for once, given that whichever blonde it was he wasn't stroking had hit on a particularly delicious way to use her tongue.  Lifting his hand from the other blonde's head, he raised it up towards his console.

Upon the bank of screens before him, to the right of Miss Americana's gaping face, lay another monitor.  It was currently displaying the interface of a curious program.  Several different files were open on it at the same time; each was laid out the same way.  In one, the latest imaging data on Omega Woman's growing blessing was overlaid upon a depiction of her own swelling belly as she stood for inspection.  It revealed the little fetus growing inside her was a very healthy girl.  Beside her, the Boarman was idly toying with a couple different versions of the logo to go on the chest of a shapely black bodysuit - which had the working title of Royal Omega.  Upon another window, he had footage of Flag Girl eagerly nursing her own new baby boy - beside which was the broad-chested model for the future Royal Flag.  Further back, it was apparent that the Boarman was already idly toying with designs for whatever was produced from the two just-tamed heroines who knelt at his feet.

Bringing his hand up to the screen, the Boarman waved his hand across it - and then paused.  He turned his cowled head back, ever so slightly - and made sure the two sidekicks wheeling Amazing Babe away were no longer in eyeshot.  Then, he turned back.  With a gesture, he minimized his costume design interface, and brought up a new one.

"It's," he said, studying the new screen carefully, "uh... High Heel and Silver Star.  Yes, they've escaped.  Quite the terrors."

"Ah," Miss Americana said.  "I.... I have always heard redheads are uniquely effective again, uh, lesbians," she said.  She squirmed, and then sighed.  "Consider them sent," she conceded.

Beside her, Omega Woman and Lady Midnight heaved heavy sighs - making their enlarged breasts rise and fall in their reinforced and expanded bras.  Then, squirming, they seemed to decide they needed to contribute to the conversation.

"I... I must say," Lady Midnight said, "it is remarkable that you have such an extensive intelligence network you can anticipate your villainesses' moves so far in advance."

On the other side of Miss Americana, Omega Woman gasped, and nodded in agreement.  "It is really quite impressive," she said, stroking her belly - as if glad she at least got knocked up by such a smart baby-daddy.

The corners of the Boarman's lips twisted up.  "Well, that it is, ladies, that it is," he admitted.  "Now if you don't mind, I'm quite busy..."

His hand moved to close the call.  But at this, all three beauties moaned - and then sat bolt upright upon their bed.

"W-wait!" Lady Midnight gasped.  "Maybe, if it's not too much trouble, you could stop by and visit us some time?"

"Yes-yes," Omega Woman agreed.  "We.. we would cook you a most delicious meal, we promise!"

"And... and wait upon you, all night lo-" Miss Americana started to plead, desperately.

But, it was too late.  With a smirk, the Boarman had already cut the feed.

Back in his own base, the Boarman sighed.  The live view of Miss Americana and her two comrades had been replaced by what he had been watching before making the call.  This was his favorite episode from the latest three superheroines' attempt to police Broodhaven better than he could.  Having been convinced there was no other way to save their captured sidekicks, the three gorgeous blondes had been lured into a high-stakes game of strip-Twister with the notorious Jet Twins... which, upon the screen, they were in the process of losing very badly.  Sitting back, the Boarman enjoyed the slurps of his two latest blonde super-conquests for a short while.  Then, he swung his head idly over to the other screen.

With the sidekicks having departed, and the two blondes at his feet never raising their heads above cock-height, there was no Delta City heroine able to see its contents.

The screen bore a list of a dozen or so entries - the top half-dozen of which had had large green checks beside them.  The last checked entry on the list said 'Jet Twins:  Sidekick Hostages.'  Below that, was 'Heel & Star:  Prison Break.'  Several more scenarios remained un-checked below - with tentative dates beside them.

Scrolling his eyes up to the very top of the list, the Boarman's smirk broadened.  There, at the very top, the very first checked entry read:  'Dark Prizm:  Tip Off to Case.'  Just above it, at the top of the screen, appeared the bright red title 'Super-cunt Bait.'

Perusing the screen, the Boarman chuckled.

"Yes," he said, idly.  "Yes, it is remarkable just how much more intelligence I have... than you stupid super sluts!"

Then, throwing his head back, he began to laugh.  His laughter boomed and echoed off the high ceiling of his lair, and across rank after rank of trophy cases already filled with skimpy Delta City bikinis, arrayed before him.  It rolled down across the buxom bodies of the two freshly-tamed blondes, kneeling at his feet.  They moaned softly, blushes appearing upon their cheeks.  But, with no idea what he was laughing about, the two freshly-tamed superheroines just kept on obsequiously sucking his dick - while thick streamers of the Boarman's cum ran down the insides of their thighs.

THE END