Ms. Americana vs the Boarman Chapter 3:  The Hyboria Hysterium

By Violator

Author’s Note 1 - Fair warning:  this is a pretty long chapter that is almost entirely devoted to a mostly-gratuitous women-in-prison sequence.  So, uh… I hope you’re fine with that!

Author’s Note 2 - this chapter makes reference to the events of what is, to my knowledge, the very first appearance of Miss Americana in an early Mr. X drawn comic.  If you go to Mr X’s free site, scroll down to near the very bottom, and click the link that just says ‘Americana’ it will take you to the relevant comic, just in case you want to read it in advance.  It should not be at all necessary to do so, more of a small bonus.

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

Our Story Thus Far:  After a failed pursuit of the villainess Rude Ruby and her gang, the Dark Prizm, Miss Americana has become stranded in the city of Broodhaven - the domain of her hated rival the mysterious Boarman.  After enduring a humiliating interrogation at the hands of the Broodhaven police, who consider her an unauthorized vigilante, Americana has been sprung from custody by the timely intervention of her fellow Delta City heroines Lady Midnight and Omega Woman.  Now, determined to show the chauvinist Boarman up by defeating his own villainesses before he can, and acting on a keen hunch, the three curvaceous costumed crime-fighters think they know exactly where they must go next:  the notorious women’s super-prison known as the Hyboria Hysterium.

"Are we really doing this?" Omega Woman asked, staring up at the edifice of Hyboria Hysterium looming against the cloudy moonlit sky.  Her voluptuous bottom squirmed against the plush seat of Americana's super-car, as they steadily rode closer.  "Are we really going… THERE?!"

Even for one of her power, even for a super-heroine, the idea of taking her buxom bikini-clad curves voluntarily into that infamous place sent an oozing squirt of dread rising up beneath the surface of her broad belly.  She shivered, and stroked her fingers along the edge of the window nervously.

Miss Americana was not entirely immune to this effect either, and she gaped up at the tall domes of the Hyboria complex, etched against the gray swirling horizon - even as with her own gloved hands she drove them closer and closer.  But then, she shook her head.  "We have no choice!" she said.

Lady Midnight took a deep breath.  "You know... we have an 'in'..." she pointed out.

Miss Americana shivered in her bikini, but then nodded.  "I know," she said.  "I... I don't want to use it.  But... we really don't have any other option do we?"

Lady Midnight shook her head, agreeing.  "I… I think under the circumstances," she said, slowly, “you have to be the one to make the call.”

Miss Americana took in a deep breath, steeling herself, and then nodded.  "Right," she said.  Reaching out, she manipulated the console controls, and soon had the night receptionist of Hyboria on her screen.

Given who they were and the masks they wore on their faces, even at this late hour it only took a few smiles and a few pointed words to secure an audience with the Warden.  Soon, Ms. Americana's battered super-car pulled up outside the gates of the prison and they got out.

In a world dominated by superheroes and their nefarious villains, every major city tends to develop its own unique and custom-designed prison facilities - to accommodate whatever particular strain of super-crime ends up becoming dominant there.  Gotham, with its endless series of psychotic freaks, has Arkham Asylum to rehabilitate them.  Delta City, whose sewers produce a seemingly never-ending series of lustful monsters, has Dr. Whirter's lab to study them.    And Broodhaven, which has a criminal underworld almost entirely dominated by vicious vixens and villainesses, has the Hyboria Hysterium to deal with the many and varied consequences of their misadventures.

Built in the ruins of a failed 1920s-era resort complex, the Hyboria Hysterium stretched out across several dozen acres.  It was surrounded by a wide, curved outer wall, within which the buildings of the interior were safely contained.  At its heart, the looming domes of the main prison building served as the centerpiece of its system.  To either side two sub-facilities nestled close by, connected to the main center by thin curved passageways.  Only the main prison building came forward to meet the outer perimeter, right before them.  At the entrance, two smoothly rounded arches soared high overhead to meet at a slight point - where a smooth round projection stuck out between them.

Looking up, standing beside the parked Americanamobile, the three heroines studied what awaited them silently for a few seconds.

"Does it remind you of anything?" Lady Midnight asked.

"Let's just get this over with," Americana said, starting to march up the steps to the towering entrance of the prison, to greet the guards coming down to meet them.  The other two buxom heroines followed.

Ms. Americana refused the offer of valet parking, instead using a voice command to send her car around to park itself in the most discreetly positioned public lot - around back at the service entrance, where the delivery vehicles parked.  Then, she and Lady Midnight and Omega Woman allowed themselves to be escorted through the entrance.  Putting their hands up, rolling their eyes, they let the guards sweep their swooping scantily-clad curves with metal detectors.  Moving on, escorted by a couple of guards, they walked through the outer public-facing sections of the prison - past a suite of visitation rooms, a waiting room and cafeteria, all of which were vacant at this hour - through a badge-access door, then past that through offices and empty reception areas.  Finally they found themselves walking down a wide marble-floored hallway, approaching a large pair of double mahogany doors with prominent brass knockers.

Above the doors was a plaque that read ‘Warden's Office’.

"Ready?" Lady Midnight asked.

"As I'll ever be," Americana growled.

As they approached the doors opened up automatically, to reveal a large office and a broad desk, behind which a handsome blonde woman sat.  She wore a big smile on her lips, and a pink blazer that showed off a staggering amount of cleavage.

"Ah, you're here!" Warden Bunny cooed, leaping to her feet.  This revealed her to be wearing an extremely short skirt under her blazer, and not much else.  Her ample rack shook dramatically inside her blazer, making it very clear that within the blazer she was not wearing a bra.  A huge smile on her lips, the pink-clad woman reached out both arms towards the three women and shook her head.  “It really has been much too long!” she said.

Battle Bunny had been one of Americana's earliest rivals, back when she was just getting her start in Delta City.  A naturally feisty and combative superheroine, the two had quarreled frequently over publicity and procedure.  On one memorable occasion, Battle Bunny had attacked Ms. Americana for violating her 'territory' down by the docks - leaving them both so vulnerable before the criminals they had been fighting that only the timely but humiliating arrival of the police allowed the two bound, beaten, half-stripped heroines to escape with their lives and their virtues intact.

In the wake of that incident, Battle Bunny had grown even more embittered towards Americana - despite, or perhaps because, Americana loudly proclaimed the entire disaster to be Battle Bunny's fault to any other heroine who would listen.  Further quarrels with Americana led her to decamp to Broodhaven, where a young Boarman was just starting to make the news.  When this was pointed out to her, Battle Bunny had smugly declared that she would demote him to her servile sidekick within her first night, and set out anyway.

And then, everything had changed.  When she had first shown up in Broodhaven she had acted according to her usual idiom - loudly belittling and insulting the Boarman to anyone who would listen, while sashaying about tauntingly in her skimpy hot-pink costume.  Then, after he had come to her aid after a failed rescue, instead of thanking him, as was her way she had whirled, spat insults, and thrown a punch.  He had caught it - holding her trembling fist in his palm while she glared at him - but this had done nothing to calm her furious passions.  The two had vanished deeper into the abandoned warehouse where the rescue had occurred, still fighting - and neither were seen again the same night.

What happened after that no one knew for sure.  The Boarman had never spoken of it, Battle Bunny only years later in the vaguest terms.  The Boarman appeared again the next night seemingly unaffected by whatever he had experienced,  but Battle Bunny did not reappear in public for almost a year.

When she did resurface, it was as if she'd had her head transplanted.  Suddenly re-emerging after her long absence, she had called a press conference.   Eager to see what had become of her old rival, Brenda had tuned in from her mansion - while lounging about in her robe after a hard day’s patrolling.  

When she arrived, Bunny had strutted out in full costume - and then, to the great murmurs of the assembled press, she had suddenly slumped to her knees.  Kneeling there on stage, her lovely blushing face surrounded by a phalanx of press microphones and filmed by a dozen news cameras, she had tearfully apologized - to the city, to the country, and especially and at great length to a ‘particular superhero’ whose name she had refused to give.  

And then she had announced her retirement.

"I realize now," Battle Bunny had said, "that there are better ways for me to contribute than my previous, misguided efforts."  

That statement alone had caused an enormous rumble amongst the startled reporters.  But before it could be dissected, she had continued.  

"From now on," she had said, tearfully, "rather than running around uselessly attempting to fight crime, my focus will be entirely on helping other wayward superwomen reform themselves, and to help society deal with the consequences of their willful misbehavior.  I urge all superheroines and naughty villainesses to see the truth, and follow my more helpful and fitting path.  I know that in their arrogance they will not - at least not right away - but I swear from now on I will provide a shining example for other misguided superheroines and villainesses to follow."

This was, to say the least, not the sort of message Brenda Wade had been expecting.  Realizing that she was not going to get an apology, but only more of this sort of drivel, she had become incensed.  Lunging forward, she had seized the remote off her table, used it to stab her TV off, and then tossed it away in fury, rather than listen to any more.

Afterwards, Battle Bunny had immediately founded an orphanage 'to care for the consequences of wayward super-women that they will not care for themselves' - despite the fact that she had never shown the slightest interest in children in any way up to that point.  Naturally enough, as a penitent and very vocal spokes-woman for the pacification of other super-women like herself, when the Hyboria Hysterium had been founded she had been a shoe-in for its Warden; her original orphanage being incorporated into a new and vastly expanded institution.

Now, Warden Bunny beamed at them across her desk, her eyes flashing.  Ms. Americana studied her for a second, and her face twisted slightly - for age had not been nearly as unkind to Battle Bunny in the intervening years as she had hoped.

Battle Bunny had always been curvy, but when she had last seen her - decades before, when the furious blonde had culminated her departure from Delta City by flashing a double bird at all the other heroines she was leaving behind her - she had been a svelte curvy.  She was curvy still - but her curves were softer, bulging slightly under her tight pink suit.  Her breasts, which had been almost but not quite as large as Americana's back in the day, had also grown larger but a bit softer - heaving about dramatically within the lapels of her pink blazer.  Despite some immaculate make-up work her pretty face had a few traces of smile-lines and laugh-lines around the corners of her mouth and her eyes - but not nearly enough to satisfy Ms. Americana's hopes.

"Hello, Americana," Warden Bunny cooed.  "Long time no see."

"Likewise," Americana growled.

"Sit," she said, motioning them to three chairs in front of her desk.

The Delta City heroines exchanged glances.  Then, they did as they were told, panty-clad asses sinking down to settle onto cold hard wood.  Omega Woman sat on the right, Lady Midnight on the left, and Miss Americana in the center.

As she settled into place, Americana's eyes darted up and she gasped slightly, as, upon the wall behind Warden Bunny, she saw two huge pictures, arrayed to either side of her.  Each showed the smiling Warden as she had once been, in full and spectacular costume, body arrayed in a powerful stance and chin held high.  

Looking back and forth between the two portraits and the unmasked woman herself, Ms. Americana smiled.  "Good to see you keep some connection to the good old days," Ms. Americana said.

"Oh, those?" Warden Bunny said, glancing back over one shoulder, then the other.  She shrugged.  "It helps me build rapport and credibility with the inmates, to remind them I was once much like them - arrogant and misguided.  Plus, it's good to keep around reminders of one's mistakes."

"Being a superheroine is not a mistake!" Ms. Americana snapped, sitting stiffly upright in her chair.

"Isn't it?" Battle Bunny said.  She pointed downwards - where Ms. Americana's sudden motion had left her huge knockers swaying about violently, within her tight leather jacket.  "Do you realize how many orphans those would feed, alone, if you weren't wasting your time running around trying to get owned?"

"That's... that's neither here nor there!" Ms. Americana said, furiously.  "Besides - I have no responsibility to put my body to such uses if I don't want to!  It's not like you're letting any infants suck on yours, are you?"

Warden Bunny smiled slyly, and lifting up a hand, cupped one of her huge breasts through her blazer.  In doing so she lifted it up enough that the three gaping heroines sitting across from her could be even more certain than before that she was not wearing a bra.  "You certain about that?" she cooed.

Ms. Americana was momentarily taken aback, so Lady Midnight stepped in.

"Let's just drop it, Ms. Americana," she said, waving her purple-gloved hand as if to brush the nascent disagreement aside.  She turned her head back to Bunny.  "We don't have much time, Warden," she said.

"Right. Sure," Warden Bunny said.  Putting both elbows on her desk, she folded her hands, rested her chin upon it, and smiled sweetly at them.  "So, then - due to what do I owe the pleasure, ladies?"

"I'll cut right to the chase," Omega Woman said, still eyeing Americana's seething face nervously.  "We want a tour."

Warden Bunny brightened up immediately.  "Excellent!" she cooed.  Sweeping her hand to one side, she snatched some paperwork out of a folder and began to spread it across her desk.  "I must say, I was beginning to think you Delta City girls would never get smart enough to avail yourself of our services.  But better late than never, as they say."

Lady Midnight waved her hand again.  "We're not planning on sending our villainesses here, Warden," she said.  "It's the wrong state jurisdiction, for one thing."

"Oh, of course not," Bunny said, cheerfully, barely listening as she rearranged the papers.  "That would just be too awkward, at least until you've settled in."

"Pardon?" Omega Woman asked.

Looking up, Warden Bunny grinned.  "Oh, this is going to be so perfect!" she said.  "I've already thought about it a lot.  We can just bring you in one by one at first - best not to have any support network, to break down those barriers right away.  Rotate you through, so everyone gets her turn."  Spreading her hands out, Bunny grinned.  "You'll be amazed what just a week per month will do.  In just a few months all those bad habits - that uppity behavior, that nasty willfulness - will start to fade.  You'll be so, so glad you did it!"

"Uh... Bunny..." Omega Woman said, squirming.

"We're... not planning on admitting ourselves - or anyone else," Lady Midnight said.

"Oh..." Bunny said.  Her lip twisted up, in puzzlement.  "Why the hell not?  It would be like a spa retreat, only for those arrogant souls of yours.  Trust me, you will-"

"We want to inspect your facility, not enter it," Americana said.  Recovering from her shock, she decided to try a different tactic.  "That is okay, right?  Or are you not comfortable sharing what you're doing to your inmates with the outside world?"

"Oh, of course not," Bunny said.  "We have nothing to hide."  She took a deep breath, and then slowly nodded.  "Very well.  Just a tour it is then," she said.  A little bitter frown appeared on her lips and she looked down at her paperwork.  "Well - you will still need to sign waivers," she said.  Picking those out of the stack, she set the rest of the paperwork to one side.  Then, looking up, she smiled.

"Why don't we just leave these here for now?" she asked.  "Until after the tour... just in case."

Her hand patted the stack of paperwork.  The title at the top of the first form, just above her fingertips, read 'Voluntary Admission' in large bold letters.

Before they could react, the Warden separated the brief bit of remaining paperwork onto three clipboards and handed them over.  Scanning through in haste, frustrated, the three superheroines still did their best to read all the fine print.

"Hysterium held not liable if guest captured, bent over, and raped with a rolling pi- what?" Americana gasped as she scanned the sixteenth bullet point in a list.

Warden Bunny rolled her eyes.  "The Valley Vixens only have to do it to one state senator, and you have to put it on the form forever!" she said.

"Not liable for costs if guest becomes pregnant - your inmates are female, Bunny, how would that even happen?!"

"You've been superheroines for a long time," Battle Bunny replied, studying her nails and looking bored.  "Do you really have to ask?"

Finally, flipping over the page and realizing there was a lot more to go, Omega Woman and Miss Americana got frustrated and just signed and then handed the boards back.  Lady Midnight did her best to scan the rest, and breathed out in horror - but realizing she was holding things up she gave in, signed as well, and handed hers back too.  Taking them with a prim smile, Warden Bunny slipped them into a folder labeled 'Protection from Sluts' and nodded.  Then, reaching into her desk, she withdrew a security badge with her smiling picture on it and tucked it into her pocket.

"Follow me," she said.

Trailed by the heroines, Warden Bunny strutted out through the facility.  They passed another couple security checkpoints, but with the Warden amongst them they walked past them without any guard lifting a finger.  Then they reached an unguarded access door with an automated badge reader.  Warden Bunny withdrew her badge and held it up to the reader.

"Hello, Warden," the door cooed, and slid aside.

As they followed her through, Lady Midnight put her lips near Americana.  "Keep an eye on that badge," she whispered.  "If we can get it away from her undetected, we can probably go anywhere."

"Right," Americana whispered back.

Then they swiftly pulled their heads apart, before they were seen.  But Warden Bunny seemed too busy strutting forward and beaming with almost maternal pride to notice anything untoward being said behind her.

"As you may know our facility has three main parts," Warden Bunny said.  "We will start with the prison, then briefly look at the orphanage, and then the hospital.  Okay?"

"Sounds perfect," Americana said.

Warden Bunny led them into a long corridor, along which several dark windows appeared.  Each had a couch in front of it, so that one could sit and watch for a long time in comfort if he pleased.  For some reason, ample boxes of tissues were provided, as well as trash cans to toss them into.

"This viewing corridor is designed to allow outside observations just like this one, without disturbing our inmates," the Warden said.  "First stop will be one of the main habitation domes - our equivalent to a cell block."

They stopped in front of a huge dark window, big enough for a dozen men to watch at once without problem, with a long couch behind.  Looking down, Americana gasped.

"G-great Justice!" she said.

At first glance, the vast room beneath her almost looked like the interior of a palace - or a temple.  The building's origin as an old resort showed.  The walls of the giant dome were marble, and much of the floors too.  Soft carpeted pathways wound between the harder floors, allowing easy passage between areas if the inmates happened to be barefoot - which many of them were.  Scattered about the central area were plush sitting areas, exercise areas, and other special-purpose zones.

Around the perimeter, semi-circular alcoves held beds - with bars ready to come down over the entrance of each one, so that the inmates could be isolated in their cells as in any normal prison.  But the semicircular arrangement meant that the activities in every cell could be observed at once from their sole vantage point - as could the open showers, way off at one end.

The dome held perhaps thirty women in total.  Their ages appeared to mostly range from their late teens to their early thirties.  Every last one of them was athletic and gorgeous.  Many had tattoos or piercings arrayed on one or another part of their sleek flesh.  

The most any of them wore amounted to a T-shirt, perhaps a bra, and a pair of panties - many wore much less; either just a bra and panty, or just panties, or nothing at all.  The shirts were plain white cotton.  The bras and panties all appeared to come in a standard issue:   made of cotton, they appeared to be in a single color for each villainess, with her code-name printed across the seat and along the thick elastic waistbands that helped hold them in place, making each of their wearers quite easy to identify.  In addition to their minimal clothing, many also seemed to have been allowed one or two particular accessories, as needed, in order to accommodate the compulsive obsessions many of the Boarman's villainesses tended to display.

But none of this is what had drawn Miss Americana’s gasp.  That was what the inmates were up to.

For at this late hour, most of the inmates were in bed - some in pairs and some alone.  But none of them were yet completely still.  Americana gasped to see several pairs of villainesses entwining with and exploring each other.  In other beds, the solo girls mostly had their hands down between their legs.  There were several boxes of sex toys scattered around the room and the inmates seemed to be putting them to very good and thorough use.

“Oh… oh my goodness,” Lady Midnight gasped, staring, as she saw the same thing Brenda had.  A shiver ran down through her scantily-clad body.  “You… you don’t provide your inmates with much privacy!” she said, shocked.

Bunny rolled her eyes.  “Hello… prison?” she said, as if reminding her.  A sly grin slowly spread across her lips.  “And don’t think for a second we’re not taping all of it too,” she added, in a soft coo.  “For, uh, security reasons only, of course…”

Gasping beside her, Omega Woman extended a shivering finger.  “I… I could have sworn she was into dudes,” she said, pointing at one inmate.  Then she nodded at her bedmate.  “And… and her too…”

Bunny smirked.  The inmate she had been pointing at was indeed rather famously voracious when it came to the male sex, both in how well-equipped she liked them and in the quantity she could run through - not that you would have guessed, from where her lips were currently planted.  She shrugged.  “Our ladies have a lot of time to… discover new things about themselves…” she answered, cryptically.  Her eyes cast over briefly, and admired all three heroines’ squirming scantily-clad bottoms, as they stood staring down through the window.  “I did tell you, some time in here would do you ladies a whole lot of good, too…” she reminded them, very softly.

The Delta City heroines gasped, at that.  But despite Battle Bunny’s veiled implications, they could not help themselves… and, eyes widening, were unable to resist staring at what they were seeing below.

In the nearest alcove, they saw the Starlet and the Songbird sharing a bed - each wearing the aforementioned skimpy panties emblazoned with their names and little else.  These were two of the Boarman's oldest villainesses - each in her early forties, or at least those were the ages they would admit to.  The Starlet was a former A-list Hollywood actress, who had mostly made her name playing a fictional super-heroine before she had turned bad - starting out engaging in petty theft and working up rapidly to full-blown supervillainy.  She mostly committed crimes by leveraging her acting talents to disguise herself - but made the Boarman's job easier by her vain refusal to ever fully conceal her quite spectacular figure.

Her bedmate, the Songbird, was much the same - only she had gotten her start as a Country-Western singer rather than an actress, and possessed a hypnotic singing voice.  She apparently insisted on wearing her cowgirl hat and fringed boots in addition to her standard prison-issue panties, even when in the arms of her lover.  Although a couple moist sex toys lay discarded beside them upon the sheets, at the moment the two villainesses were swapping spit - their hands playing eagerly inside each others' scanty uniforms.

In the bed next to Songbird and Starlet lay another pair of villainesses; Gold Digger and the Librarian.  Their names were fairly self-explanatory.  At the moment Ms. Americana and her crew started watching, the Librarian was lying on her stomach, a thick tome laid out in front of her on her pillow.  Gold Digger lay next to her wearing little but a smirk - and rubbing a golden double-ended dildo teasingly against her bedmate's bubble-shaped ass.

"Stop it," the Librarian said.  She wiggled upon her belly, making her jutting buns shake delightfully up against Gold Digger's stroking toy, but otherwise keeping her eyes buried in her book.  "I'm reading."

"C'monnn..." Gold Digger cooed.  She managed to slip the dildo up inside the Librarian's panties, and stroke it up and down her bare ass - deforming the black panty just beneath where it read 'The Librarian' upon it, in letters that already arced considerably to cross her bubble-butt.

"Stop it!" the Librarian said, burying her nose deeper in her book.

"C'monnnn..." Gold Digger said, again.  Slipping her gold dildo out of the Librarian's panties she brought it down between her spread thighs and pressed it, hard, up against her panty-clad mound.

"Oh!" the Librarian yelped.  Her head shot up and her finger flew out of her book.  It flopped closed before her.  Head descending, she stared at it in irritation.  Then she whirled her bespectacled head, and glared back over her shoulder.

"You made me lose my place!" she seethed.

Gold Digger responded with a huge grin - showing off the numerous gold teeth filling her mouth.  It looked impressive, until one heard the rumor that each and every one had been installed after getting a fat lip from the Boarman.

"Well then," she cooed, still rubbing the dildo against the Librarian's pussy, persuasively.  "You might as well give in..."

The Librarian sighed.  "Fine," she said.  Rolling over, using the thick tome to augment her pillow, she lifted her legs, drew her panties up them, and cast them aside.  "Hurry up," she said, spreading, "before I forget what chapter I was on."

"Sure thing," Gold Digger said.  Getting into position, she maneuvered the double-dildo so that it was poised to shoot up into both of their pussies as soon as she brought down her own curvy ebony hips.  Then she looked down into the Librarian's pale, freckled, bespectacled face.  "Any other requests?" she asked.

The Librarian squirmed slightly, in anticipation.  "Yes," she said, softly.  "Do it... do it rough... like..."  She licked her lips.  "Like... you know..."

The Gold Digger took a deep breath.  "I do..." she said.  "And... I'll try."

With that, she thrust home.  In seconds, both villainesses were squealing.

In the next alcove, past Gold Digger and the Librarian, another pair of beauties were also getting quite busy.  One of the two was a lesbian separatist who went by the monniker Silver Star.  When she had first started her career she had gone as Gold Star, but after her first encounter with the Boarman, had felt compelled to quietly re-brand.  

Her bedmate was known as High Heel.  A shoe fanatic, she had a pair for every occasion, fashionable and criminal:  from thigh-high boots that let her jump over prison walls to stiletto heels that could stomp through bank vaults.  Her base was reputed to contain over a dozen closets filled entirely with footwear, and most of her crimes were centered around acquiring even more - and the most traumatic part of having to come back to Hyboria Hysterium was always picking just one pair to wear for her entire stay.

On this occasion, she was wearing a pair of large bright red designer sneakers - and nothing else.  Both pairs of expensive sneaks were lifted high and shaking at the ends of her long sleek legs - as Silver Star, kneeling at the foot of the bed and with her face buried into the apex of High Heel's sleek thighs, did her level best to persuade her bedmate that she could please her better than her super-criminal boyfriend outside the walls.  Silver Star's last three hundred attempts to convince her cellmate of the same thing had apparently all been inconclusive - but somehow neither Silver Star nor her shrieking partner ever seemed to tire of giving the wordless argument another try.

Another pair of villainesses were in one of the showers together - but between their lack of identity-emblazoned panties, the fact their faces were pressed together as they kissed under the streaming waters, and the both literally and figuratively steamy nature of their activities, it was impossible to tell which pair of the Boarman's many many other nemeses these were.  Just enough could be seen to tell that they were not natural blondes, but did have quite impressive natural tits - but that didn't narrow it down a whole lot.

Elsewhere, other girls were active in slightly less lascivious ways; but sometimes only slightly.  In the exercise area one lady was all alone - but shared something with most of the others in that she was panting heavily.  Upon one of several provided treadmills, she was running as flat out as she could - while wearing nothing but a pair of olive-green panties and a pair of well-worn running shoes.

"Oh - I've heard of her!" Lady Midnight said, pointing.  "The Gym Queen.  All her crimes are exercise or sport related."

"Is it true she has a freak condition where she has to work out eighteen hours a day, or she bloats up to 400 pounds like, literally overnight?" Omega Woman asked.

"Well, sort of," Warden Bunny said.  "In her head."

Getting off the treadmill, Gym Queen went down into a plank.  Then, panting softly, she whirled around and tossed a quarter up into the air.  It flew up in a practiced arc, and landed upon her jutting, immaculately toned backside, just to the side of her panties.  It stuck on her sweaty silky flesh, jiggling about on her rounded bun.

"Oh, my God!" the Gym Queen groaned.  "It didn't bounce.  It didn't bounce!"

She did a quick brace of push-ups, and then leaping back to her feet, got right back on her treadmill and kept pounding away.

Meanwhile, in an adjacent open area, four beauties were in the midst of a heated game of Twister:  two curvy African mercenaries competing with two tall and slender Scandinavian assassins, officiated by a 'neutral' Latina cat burglar.  Based on the several additional copies on a nearby shelf, that particular game was one of the main sanctioned forms of entertainment allowed to the caged beauties.  Their bodies intertwined into a highly competitive pretzel at that moment, it was just possible to discern that the dark-skinned beauties had on bras and panties, while their blonde opponents had just panties.  Based on the four T-shirts and two bras that lay scattered around the play area, there were consequences for each fall.  And based on the two strap-ons laid out carefully to one side, there would be even deeper consequences for the losing team.

Slowly, Ms. Americana shook her head.  "I can't believe this," she whispered.

To one side, Warden Bunny stood proudly, hands upon her broad pink-clad hips.  "It's really quite simple," she cooed.  "Unlike those idiots over in, say, Arkham, we figured out long ago that it was far far cheaper if our inmates did not want to leave, than if they were routinely getting out to wreck more stuff.  Fewer deaths, too."

"Don't they still break out on the regular?" Omega Woman asked, suspiciously.

"Well, yes," the Warden said, shrugging - not looking particularly embarrassed by that fact.  "But if you follow the stats, every time they do they do a little less damage... and fight a little less hard not to be brought back.  The system always wins, in the end."

"But how do you enforce any justice at all, if this is what you allow your criminals?" Americana asked, hotly, gesturing around the palatial space beneath her.

"We use a system of positive and negative reinforcement, like a civilized person, rather than just throwing them in a stinky pit - though stinky pits are still sometimes involved," the Warden said.  "But I'm getting ahead of myself.  We will get to the main re-education rooms soon enough.  But even here, notice how everything is tuned to focus on rehabilitation."

She pointed at the game of Twister - where right then one of the slender blonde contestants was struggling desperately to remain aloft, while one of her smirking and curvaceous ebony-skinned opponents repeatedly slammed her ample dark butt-cheeks over against the blonde's flat but struggling belly.

"Those two Finnish murder-sluts came in here all full of piss and vinegar," she said.  "But already they have started to learn to settle their differences in a more agreeable fashion."  Her smirk broadened.  "And when they lose - which they will, the Jet Twins are just playing with them and have them totally sharked - they're going to get that point driven home even deeper."

"You allow those sorts of shenanigans in your prison?" Americana asked, incredulous.

Warden Bunny shrugged.  "No one made them bet their cunts," she said.  "Now, let's go."

She set off further down the corridor.  Heads craning back to take a last few gaping looks into the habitation dome, they set off after her.  As they did so, the Delta City heroines leaned close together.

“What do you think, Miss Americana?” Lady Midnight asked, nodding back towards the windows slowly receding behind them.  “Do you think one of them is the Prizm’s target?”

Americana’s face twisted into a scowl, and she shook her head.  “No - not with so many others around.  Besides, those ladies may be wicked, but none are all that powerful - at least not without their various gadgets.  Let’s keep our eyes open for something more fitting.”

Lady Midnight and Omega Woman nodded at this.

"We have three such domes," Warden Bunny continued as she strode on.  "We mix and match girls - break up or combine teams, et cetera - to try to keep things balanced properly.  But there are also solitary rooms for girls too ornery, or too powerful, to go into the general pool.  You won't see those - they're not on the tour for obvious reasons.  But, you will see some of their occupants.  Our next stop is the re-education classrooms... and while the regular girls are generally in there in groups during the day, at night, we have the big bad babes in there one at a time - they don't get to see the sun much anyways, so it's not like they notice the difference.  Oh, and by the way - they’re mostly in their original costumes, not standard uniforms.  We find that’s often more effective for solo rehabilitation, anyways."

"Big bad babes, huh?" Americana asked, rolling her eyes, as they approached the next big one-way mirror.  "Like who?"

"I dunno, does Death count?" Warden Bunny asked, pointing into the one-way window before them and smirking.

Curious, Americana and her colleagues advanced to look in - and gasped.

Through the window they looked down into a large, finely appointed kitchen.  It looked like the sort of kitchen that would appear in a high-budget cooking show, and was large enough that it could accomodate a dozen at least.  

But right now, it had only a single inmate laboring away - surrounded by a half-dozen truncheon-armed guards who were watching her warily from a distance.  The one female in the room had skin of pure alabaster, long silver hair flowing down around her, and a figure to rival Ms. Americana's own.  As Bunny had mentioned instead of a standard-issue uniform, she wore her usual outfit, which consisted of an extremely skimpy high-leg black bikini, with long black gloves and black thigh-boots that connected to her scoop-front bikini panty by garters; the whole of it decorated here and there with golden skulls.

But on top of all that she wore a frilly apron, brief enough that it still left her tits spilling out up top and the crotch of her dark panties visibly beneath the frilly hem below - and, gasping and blushing was with great difficulty attempting to use a bag of icing to extend a row of colorful sweet flowers around the edge of a tall multi-tiered wedding cake.

"Lady Death, to be specific," Warden Bunny cooed, still directing their gaze, entirely unnecessarily through the window.

"Oh... oh Great Justice..." Ms. Americana whispered, her eyes wide and staring in shock.

"How the fuck did she get in here?!" Omega Woman gasped.

"Oh, simple," Warden Bunny cooed, smiling.  "She came out from whatever dimension of nastiness she calls home to Broodhaven, to try to fuck some shit up.  Steal some souls, drink blood, I don't know, whatever uppity nonsense she's into.  A certain upstanding citizen who will remain nameless tracked her down.  She clearly didn't think he was much of a threat, but she learned the hard way how easy it is for a real man to put even a super-slut like her in her place."

"Oh... oh my Goddess..." Lady Midnight gasped, staring.

Looking on from one side, Warden Bunny smirked.  "I'm admittedly a little fuzzy on my applied cosmology," she said.  "But I don't think she quiiite qualifies.  But do keep that one handy, for later..."

As the three heroines watched, wide-eyed, through the one way window, the alabaster-skinned ultra-villainess slowly sculpted the last few icing roses around the top tier of her cake.  Reaching out with trembling fingers, she used her long fingernails to delicately adjust a few of the flowers.  Then, reaching down, she grabbed up a small piece of plastic.  Lifting it up, holding her breath, the buxom villainess went up on tiptoe and went to add it to the top of the cake.  She slid it in, then stepped back.

The heroines gasped, as they realized what they were seeing.  At the top of the cake, stood a little plastic couple.  On one side, a broad-shouldered and dark-cowled figure that looked almost exactly like the Boarman.  On the other, Lady Death herself - wearing a long princess-length wedding veil hanging back to her jutting thong-clad ass, and clutching a bouquet just before her wide supple skull-decorated belly.

Stepping back from her completed work, Lady Death gazed upon it.  Her full blood-red lips hung open, quivering, as her huge pure-white eyes gazed upon it as if in awe.  Then slowly a tremble of fury shivered across her face, and her gorgeous features twisted into a tormented and frustrated scowl.

"No!" she moaned.  "No... no matter how beautiful I make it, he will never come!  He will never come!"

Lashing out with her fists, she struck the cake, making it explode.  Then her lips quivering in fury, she dug her long-nailed fingers into its fluffy icing-laced flesh, rending through it as if she was ripping the guts out of some fallen hell-beast.  "He will never come!  He will never make an honest hell-queen out of me!" she hissed.

Coils of blue energy started to writhe down her arms.

"Oh, shit!" one of the guards yelped.

"The prisoner has become ornery!" another said.

Advancing upon her, the guards tried to use their shock-truncheons on her.  But at the approach of the first, Lady Death whirled around and snarled like a furious she-vixen - giving the silently watching heroines a stunning look at her black-with-silver-skulls-thong-clad ass in the process.

"No!" the platinum-haired beauty hissed, her pure white eyes crackling with fury.  "You will not keep me from him!"

Raising her hand, she extended out a single long-nailed finger, and shot a beam of blue energy into his chest.  The guard moaned in dismay - and a moment later melted into a puddle of goo, spilling out of his uniform, before her high-heeled feet.

"Fuck!" a guard standing next to what was left of the first said, staring.

But she could not get them all.  Even as she seethed sultrily over the puddle of their former comrade, two more guards leaped up from behind and jabbed her in each of her enormous pure-white buns with their shock-prods.

"Aigggh!" Lady Death shrieked, her pure-white eyes going wide.

Unfortunately, the shocks just seemed to piss her off.  Whirling she glared at the two pudgy guards she found before her.

"You are not worthy to lick his boots - or mine!" she hissed at them.

She pointed one finger each at the crotches of their uniforms.  A moment later both guards whimpered, shock-prods trembling in their hands and eyes rolling up - as wisps of blue smoke began to rise up out of their pants, from where their dicks had once been.

The example of their three comrades, however, just drove the remaining guards to further desperation.

"Get her down, get her down!" another yelped.

Four guards were left.  Surging forward, they fell upon the preening Lady Death like desperate jackals upon a proud yet battered lioness.  They struck her with their shock-prods again and again, and the combined effect began to tell.  Gasping deeply, her body shivering almost as if in the midst of a very different form of stimulation, the exalted evil beauty slowly sank to her thigh-booted knees in their midst.  But though she was down, she was not out.  Doors flew open and more guards rushed in - which was fortunate, because even as she was in the process of being subdued a wisp of Lady Death's blue sorcery leaped almost unconsciously from her fingers, struck one of her tormentors in his chest, and in instant had reduced him to little more than a spray of viscera across a nearby stainless-steel prep table.

"Are... are we going to have to intervene?" Omega Woman whispered, watching worriedly.  Her own buxom creamy flesh shivered in its straining red bikini.  Even for one of her vaunted power, she was not certain if her bullet-proof curves would prove any more resistant to Lady Death's magic than the poor men whose demise she was witnessing through the glass.

But Warden Bunny shook her head - seeming about as concerned over what she was witnessing before her as she would have watching someone wipe up the aftermath of a coffee spill  in the break room.

"Nah," she said.  "They've just about got her under control.  Watch."

"She's down, but not out!" one of the guards yelped.  "Quick - remind her of her place!"

"Right!" another said

Dropping his prod - leaving the others, plus the arriving reinforcements, to keep the gasping ultra-beauty distracted by arc after arc of electricity coursing through her immaculate invincible flesh - he reached down.  From behind the prep table she had been working at, he produced a large wooden paddle, engraved with strange runes.   Swinging it down, he delivered a mighty wallop onto Lady Death's enormous, uplifted, thong-clad buns.

"Ooh!" the mighty villainess gasped, her face writhing with greater torment than all the prods put together, as she was spanked.  But she did not seem to resist, as he delivered unto her another swat.

"Are you being a bad girl?" he asked her.  Sweating bullets, he hefted the paddle back up over his shoulder, and then brought it down onto her flawless ass as if he were trying to send her through the one-way window before them.  But all this accomplished, against Lady Death's mystic and immaculate backside, was to make her huge silky buns jiggle spectacularly under the deep impact of the paddle.  "Say it!" he said.

"Oh!" Lady Death gasped, licking her lips, as she received another swat.  Then she nodded.  "Yes!" she moaned - her buns deforming under another devastating spanking.  "Yes!  Yes, I... I am being a bad girl!" she admitted, her voluptuous body shivering upon its knees far more from the chastisement than the shock prods that were still being pressed against her.

"Will he marry a bad girl?" another guard asked, taking the paddle from the first.  Then, using both arms, he delivered another thunderous swat onto Lady Death's enormous perfect ass.

"Oooh!" the powerful arch-villainess whimpered.  And then, the faintest trace of a pink blush appearing upon her pure white cheeks, she thrashed her head back and forth - her long platinum hair shaking like the wind was going through it.  "No!" she admitted in a wail.  "No!  He... he will not!"

"So what are you going to do?" the guard said, and then gave her another furious swat - as if he was trying to break her.  All this accomplished was to make her big round buns jiggle to either side of her thong a little bit more wildly than before.

Lady Death licked her lips, and then moaned.  "I... I will be good!" she promised.  "I will... I will be a good girl!"

"Do good girls go back to their cell peacefully, without breaking anything - or anyone - else?" the guard asked.  He traced his paddle over her buns, giving her a taste of it - but not continuing her punishment just yet.

Lady Death took a deep breath, making her huge breasts heave and jostle in her black skull-decorated bra, and then glumly nodded.  "Yes..." she whispered.  "Good girls... allow themselves to be imprisoned once more... even.... even by weak unworthy mortals such as you..."

"Then stand up, and show us what a good girl you are - by letting us chain you," the guard said.

Lady Death shivered - and then slowly complied.  A couple over-eager guards gave her another couple touches with their shock-prods as she rose - but these seemed to have almost no effect upon her.  Soon the buxom villainess stood regally amidst the ring of mortal guards, who gaped up at her in their ill-fitting uniforms.  She heaved a deep breath, pausing to brush a bit of her hair back into place - even though it looked super-naturally perfect regardless of its configuration - and then, gasping sultrily, obediently crossed her nigh-invincible hands behind her hourglass-shaped back.

Picking up a rune-encrusted pair of cuffs and collar that had lain to one side while she worked, the guards swiftly put them back on her.  Lady Death gasped softly as her all-powerful curves were once more bound and shackled, both literally and by the spells bound to her restraints.  Soon she stood with the heels of her long boots fettered together, her hands cuffed behind her, and a thick collar on her neck, from which a long leash extended.  But, a chill running down her back, Miss Americana was left with the distinct impression that if she had really wanted to the arch-villainess could still have sent beams of blue energy shooting out of her pure-white eyes to melt all the remaining guards where they stood.

But instead, her long lashes blinked... and her eyes started to leak a few tears.

"Why... why doesn't he come to me?" she whispered.  Her voluptuous hips squirmed, as if in desperate memory of something.  "Even... even one night... would mean so much to me..." she whispered, softly.

Looking first at the mournful murderous beauty, the surviving guards exchanged glances.

"Maybe if you make your cake even better next time... you can get his attention," one of them suggested.

Lady Death whimpered softly at this.  The expression upon her gorgeous face seemed to momentarily despair, that this was all they had to offer.  But then, she slowly nodded.

"Yes," she whispered softly, looking down at the floor.  "You are right."  She licked her lips.  "I... I have not yet proven myself good and obedient enough.  I must work much harder, if I am ever to prove myself worthy of affection."

Looking at each other, the expressions upon the guards' faces appeared dubious at this prospect.  But they also seemed highly reluctant to tell the emotionally distraught arch-villainess of their visibly obvious doubts.

"That's right," the guard holding her leash said.  He gave it a little tug.  "Now let's get your big white butt back to your cell, so you can think about what you've done."

Lady Death gasped softly.  It was clear for a moment, from the way that her gorgeous alabaster-pale body remained stock-still despite the thrashing of her leash, that despite the arcane bonds weakening her they could not have moved her an inch if she did not permit it.  But then, slowly, she nodded.

"Thank you..." she said.

Voluptuous hips swaying, she obediently allowed herself to be led away back to her cell.  As she did so, eyes still downcast, she licked her lips.  Then, when she was halfway around the room, she looked up.

"When I am back in my cell..." the skull-bedecked sorceress asked, hopefully, "may... may I please have one of my larger toys?  I... I must practice some more, if I am to show him proper gratitude with my mouth... should he ever grace me with his love again."

The guards glanced around... and at this they chuckled.

"Only if you promise to practice in clear view of the cameras..." one said.

Lady Death gasped, and then nodded eagerly.  "Of course," she said, as she was led out the door.  "I care not about that..."

The eager chortles of the guards at this were cut short, as the steel door slid automatically back into place after her voluptuous thong-clad ass had passed through it.

The three heroines were left gaping in shock through the one-sided window, while the warden stood beside them, hands on her hips, and smirked.

"What... what the fuck..." Omega Woman whispered at last, speaking for the other two.

The three heroines turned and looked at each other.  From the expressions on their faces, there was much about what they had just witnessed that needed to be discussed.  But some of it could not be said before the smirking gaze and listening ears of the Warden.  So instead, they focused on what could.

"That... that was four casualties to deal with one villainess..." Lady Midnight whispered, pointing.  The puddle that remained of one guard and the splattered gore of the other were still clearly visible within the room.  The two who had had blue smoke rising from their pants had been led away with the others, but from the high-pitched whimpering of their voices and some distraught murmured comments, it was clear that neither man had been left anything resembling a manhood inside his pants.  "How... how do you stay in guards?!"

Warden Bunny smirked.

"While there are some more picked men who watch the watchmen, as it were," she purred, "the vast majority of our common interior guards are actually inmates themselves, of a sort.  Common convicts from other prisons in the state, they sign a special release and submit to some voluntary chemical treatments to be allowed to 'transfer' here.  Which you might think they wouldn’t go for, but we have some glossy brochures showing them what they'll be guarding," she said, nodding back towards the scantily-clad-body-filled room they had seen first, "and wouldn’t you know it we always have a waiting list long enough to fill us up ten times over, should we need it.  Which... on occasion we have."

Omega Woman gasped at this, squirming in her broad but straining bikini.  Then, her brow furrowed.

"But... but with so many common thugs placed next to so many hotties,” she said, nodding towards the remains of the criminals-turned-guards within, “you must still get problems with the guards trying to mess with your lady inmates..."

Warden Bunny shrugged.

"As you've just seen, the far more common problem is our ladies making a mess out of our dudes," she said.  "But as to your earlier point, well... as a matter of fact, that chemical treatment I mentioned turns them almost completely impotent.  So no, we don't have any problems with them trying to rape our ladies if that's what you're implying.  Although they do have just enough of their old urges left to really want to watch, as you just overheard - which, I must say, is a mighty convenient trait to have among your guards!"

Miss Americana gasped at this, and shook her head.

"But if the men know they are going to be impotent," she whispered, "what... what possible attraction could there be in being in a facility full of busty scantily-clad women?!"

Warden Bunny smirked, her broad hips wiggling back and forth under her skirt with relish.

"Well, the part where that happens is clearly laid out for them in eight-point font on page thirty-seven of the release they sign.  Is it really my fault if almost none of them bother to read it?"

"Legally, no," Lady Midnight allowed, shivering in her own costume as she contemplated the gory remains of the guards within.  "But... ethically..."

Warden Bunny rolled her eyes.  "Oh, come on," she said.  "They were a bunch of thugs, thieves and rapists before they came to us.  You lot run-around engaging in cathartic recreational beatings of just their sort every single night.  Don’t even try to lie - I used to be one of you, remember?  You know you love that shit.  And now you suddenly grow a bleeding heart for them?  Give me a break."

Turning, she nodded further down the corridor.

"C'mon," she said.  "Show's over here for tonight, and I don't have until dawn to get your asses through here!"

Her hot-pink-clad ass turned and sauntered away further down the hallway.  The three Delta City heroines followed... but at a sufficient distance to hold a quiet whispered conversation to themselves.

"Did you see that?" Omega Woman gasped, her eyes wide and her buxom body shivering in her bikini.  "Okay, sure, she might not be a goddess... but she's damn close.  And yet somehow the Boarman made her completely smitten with him.  H-how can that be!?"

The look on her pretty blonde face said a little bit more than her words had.  It said 'if that can happen to Lady Death... what chance do I have to avoid the same fate?'  And, deep deep down inside her buxom hips, the deeper question... of whether she actually wanted to avoid whatever had endeared the arch-villainess so deeply at all.  Seeing these unspoken points etched upon her friend's lovely face, Miss Americana shook her head instinctively and emphatically.

"Point of order!" Miss Americana hissed back.  "We don't know which 'he' it was she was referring to!"

At this, Lady Midnight rolled her eyes.  "Oh, come on!" she said.  "It's Broodhaven.  There is only one 'he' worth speaking of here!"

"Still!  You don't actually know!" Miss Americana said, waving her finger chastisingly at the other two - as if also trying to cast a spell of her own, to ward off any thoughts unfitting of a true superheroine.  "And besides... she's some sort of supernatural creature.  The rules are different for them.  More power, but also more weaknesses.  Do you honestly think there is anything a mere man like the Boarman could possess, that would so thoroughly tame real women such as we?!"

At this, both of the other heroines appeared taken aback.  Then, slowly, they nodded.

"That's a good point," Lady Midnight admitted.

"You're damn right it is!" Americana said, stomping her boot decisively, as if flattening any idea of the Boarman's adequacy and grinding it to paste against the floor.  Then their boots continued on, following in Warden Bunny's wake.

As chance would have it, at that moment they reached the next window - ending further opportunities for discreet private conversation for the time being.  Advancing past it, Warden Bunny whirled and gestured into it like a game show hostess inviting her contestants to review the prizes on offer.

"So, first up was cooking," she said.  "Next up is another of the core skills needed to turn a self-proclaimed ‘bad girl’ into a good and proper one.  Any guesses which?"

The heroines gasped as they came up to peer into the next window.  This one went all the way from the ceiling to the floor.  Beyond the window was a model of a large room that was like a cross between an opulent living room and a super-hero fortress.  There were broad floors, plush carpets, several leather couches.  The walls were lined with bookshelves and trophy cases.

It was also filthy.  The floors were dirty, the shelves dusty, the surfaces of the trophy cases smeared with some translucent substance.  Food and wine were spilled in several places.  There were also sprays and splatters of some other milky fluid, which looked disturbingly gooey and potent, dripping down the bookshelves and puddled on the couch cushions.  Pieces of skimpy women's clothing and underwear - a spaghetti-strap dress here, a large-cupped lacy bra there, a tiny thong there - were scattered about the room.

The overall effect was as if an orgy had occurred, in which at least a half-dozen nubile yet impressively-well-endowed young women had been ridden hard and put away wet, and a great mess left behind as a result.

And within the room three members of the Star Sapphire Corps, clearly identifiable by the skimpy magenta costumes that adorned their lithe and busty bodies, were laboring hard to clean it all up.  In addition to their tiny costumes, the mighty beauties wore little black aprons trimmed with white lace over their sleek and shapely flesh.  Like Lady Death's before them, these were brief enough to still leave the crotches of their violet costumes peeking out below the skirt, and their ample racks shaking about visibly behind the bib.

Two of the sapphires were human - one blonde and one of what appeared to be South Asian descent.  A third was some sort of alien, with green skin and flaming red hair - an alien princess, if the crystal tiara she wore in addition to her uniform was any indication.  

As the heroines watched, gasping, one of the Sapphires was kneeling down and scrubbing the floor.  Another was dusting the bookshelves.  A third was diligently scrubbing a trophy case.

Overlooking their efforts were several guards, snickering openly at the sight of the once-proud scantily-clad Sapphires squirming and scrubbing before them.  At their laughter, the violet-themed beauties gasped softly, their cheeks blushing near to their trademark shade - and kept diligently performing the most basic and demeaning of duties.

Looming over them, at the back of the room, was a large chair like a throne, on an elevated platform.  In it sat a mannequin of a broad-shouldered male figure, his head smooth and faceless. He could well be a stand-in for the concept of rightful authority in general, on whose behalf the Sapphires diligently labored.  But hands shivering upon her buxom panty-clad hips, Miss Americana did her absolute best not to let the observation that he bore an uncanny resemblance to a certain domineering man in particular, of recent and maddening acquaintance, from entering her infuriated head.

After a short time, when all three of the hard-laboring beauties had completed their tasks, the mannequin suddenly spoke.

"Very good," it said, in a deep rumbling voice that made Omega Woman gasp softly, her body shivering in her bikini.  "You may approach and show homage."

As one, the three Sapphires's faces lit up with joy.  Staying on their knees, panting softly, they crawled forward and formed a line, kneeling before the base of the throne.  Then one by one they bent low before it.  The watching guards snickered, as each beauty's voluptuous scantily-clad ass lifted high, wiggling back and forth before them in their skimpy magenta costumes.  But though they gasped softly at this, the Sapphires did not allow the watching mens' amusement to dissuade them.

"Thank you... for letting us serve you," the blonde human Sapphire whispered softly, before pressing a sweet kiss to the statue's right boot.

"We... we hope one day to be allowed to repeat our performance... for real..." the copper-skinned Sapphire said, before pressing her lips to the statue's left boot.

Left kneeling in the center, as her comrades continued to press kiss-mark after kiss-mark onto the toes of the statue's boots, the alien princess Sapphire gasped.  Then she too bent down low, until her face was between his feet.

"We pray," she said, "p-please notice the purity of our devotion... and reward us with your brutal but beautiful attention just… just once more."  With a gasp, Americana finally realized that there were several cameras arrayed quite openly around the room - and that they were recording everything the three Sapphires were doing.

Then, as her colleagues were already occupying the toes she extended her head up between the statue's feet and turning first this way and that, laid a series of kisses onto the heels of his boots as well.

Still snickering, the guards observed this worship of the seated mannequin for another few seconds.  Then, slapping his truncheon against his open palm, the highest-ranking one shook his head.

"Okay, that's enough for now ladies," he said.  "There's still much more for you to do."  Using his truncheon, he pointed out several more soiled splatters that still marred the luxurious room.  "Get to it!"

The three Sapphires gasped.  But then, sitting back, they demurely nodded.

"Of... of course," the princess said, speaking for the other two.

"We live to obey our masters," the blonde Star Sapphire said.

Turning reluctantly, they crawled back to their stations.  In no time the three mighty Star Sapphires were once more scrubbing, or dusting, or polishing diligently.

They did so, even though it was useless.  Near the ceiling, small robot drones moved back and forth - distributing fresh mess onto any sufficiently clean area they found.  No sooner had a Sapphire finished cleaning up one spray of pearly splatter, than a robot swooped down to discharge a fresh puddle of the same sticky ooze somewhere else.  No sooner was one piece of discarded women's clothing tidied away than a drone swooped down, with a bra or thong or lacy chemise dangling down beneath it, and deposited it into a heap somewhere else.  On more than one occasion, a Sapphire rose up from where she had been crouched diligently scrubbing, admired the sparkling area she had been working on with pride - only to gasp as a moment later a drone swooped down and squirted out an identical mess to the one she had just cleaned just a little ways further away from her.

But despite the futility of their efforts, there were no tantrums this time, as their had been with Lady Death - and as the gaping heroines watched the cosmic beauties crawl over to some fresh bit of mess and return dutifully to their labors over and over, their lithe and lovely bodies moving beautifully as they scrubbed and cleaned, it was quickly clear that there wouldn't be any.  Standing to one side, Warden Bunny looked on smugly.

"We keep their cute little power rings in a safe place, so they're really not that dangerous," she said.  "But we still don't want them mixing too much with the general population, in case the rest of the Corps should try to come for them.  I think their rehabilitation is coming along nicely - wouldn't you agree?"  When she didn't get an immediate answer from the still-speechless heroines, she smirked.  "Let's move on then," she said.  "There's still much to see."

Her pink form turned and strutted on.  The heroines followed in her wake.

"What do you think about that, Miss Americana?" Lady Midnight whispered, nodding back towards the still tirelessly-laboring Sapphires.  "What... what could make three proud beauties act like that?"

But once more Americana just rolled her eyes.

"From what I understand, those Sapphires are already utterly devoted to some twisted concept of love.  Is it any surprise they would take defeat at the hands of a chauvinist pig like the Boarman the wrong way?  Once more, when it comes to real heroines like us - this means nothing."

The other two heroines considered this, and then nodded, reassured.

Marching down the corridor the buxom quartet, with pink-clad Warden Bunny in the lead, approached another window.  This was the last one in the current section of the corridor, before it terminated into a metal security door.  

"So our first two classrooms were for more practical rehabilitation," Warden Bunny said airily, as her swaying pink-skirt-clad buns led them closer.  "But we also have our inmates learn more decorative arts as well - such as inside here."

The heroines gasped at what they saw.  Before them, through the window, was a small circular stage... with a long chrome pole rising up its center.  This time the one-way window they were looking through was not the only one - the stage was enclosed by four glassy walls, and the heroines' own window let them see into two of them - but all four surfaces were mirrored, so that the inmate upon the stage had no idea who was observing her, or from where.

But it was not the setup of the room that primarily shocked the heroines - it was its occupant.  The current inmate, dancing lasciviously upon the highly exposed stage, was a gorgeous and busty blonde.  Despite the fact that a significant portion of her traditional costume - her green ring-covered tights and golden belt, mostly - were already on the floor, she was still instantly recognizable to the gaping heroines.  Based on the trademark green crown she wore, and her wickedly beautiful features, she was none other than the notorious Asgardian sorceress Amora - better known by her villainess codename The Enchantress.

As the heroines watched, having already stripped off her leggings and her belt, the shapely sorceress was dancing in a very brief strapless green dress, long gauntlets, high heels, and her crown.  The crown, like an arch, framed both the top and sides of her lovely face, rising out to several swooping green spikes nestled amidst her flowing golden hair.  Her sleek curvy torso dipped and dived, as she bounced and ground, her ass jiggling back against the pole.  Occasionally the rise and fall of her skirt, as she rubbed her rounded ass up and down against the pole, gave the heroines a glimpse of a tiny emerald-green thong underneath her skirt.

Meanwhile, through their larger window, the heroines could see into the rooms to either side.  Each contained a seating area with a few eagerly watching guards - while they could clearly see the Enchantress they did not seem to be able to see the heroines either.  Based on the impressions in their pants, true to Warden Bunny's words, despite the stunning views the Enchantress was providing them none of them seemed to have managed to pop a full boner - each was up to half-mast at best.  But this did not keep them from watching enthusiastically as she bounced and writhed enticingly before them.  But finally, one seemed to grow bored.  Reaching out, he turned on an intercom.

"Lose the dress," he told her.

Upon the stage, the Enchantress gasped.  Her arms lifted up over her head, and her eyes closed, she shivered - but then shook her gorgeous crowned head, even as she continued to dance.

"You... you are not my conqueror..." she asserted, writhing her lithe body in little circles against the pole, while her enormous breasts bounced and sloshed energetically in her strapless green top.

The guard just smirked at this objection.  "That may be true of me... but there are three more cells," he reminded her.  "You don't know who is in any of them.  You don't want to risk boring him, if he is watching... do you?"

At this, the Enchantress gasped.  She danced for a few more seconds... even as a slight blush spread across her high and regal cheeks.  Then she slowly nodded.

"I... I see your point," she said.  "Alright... I will do as I am told..."

But she did not do so right away.  She instead began by teasing.  Lifting up on first one side and then the other, she hoisted her short skirt up until what she had beneath could almost be seen - while looking down, her lips open and gasping, her voluptuous hips continued to sway.  Then, abandoning the skirt for the moment, she instead went up to her breasts.  Moaning softly, she slowly peeled her enormous jugs out of her green cups.

As soon as her big wonders came out to bounce and slosh naked before them, a chorus of hoots and whistles burst from all the intercoms around her, save the one for the heroines.  This caused Enchantress to gasp, and an even deeper blush to spread across her pretty cheeks - but she did not stop.  Body still writhing as if with barely-suppressed passion she guided her dress down her hourglass-shaped waist, over her broad hips, and down her long legs.  

Another chorus of whistles broke out as she exposed her panties.  In response the proud Enchantress's head flew back, her golden hair flashing around her trademark green crown, and she let out a tormented moan.  Her hands, guiding down her dress, briefly froze and trembled at mid-thigh.  But then, with a groan, despite their continued cackles, she bent low - and continued stripping.  Soon enough her dress joined her leggings and belt in littering the floor of the stage.

Bouncing back up to her feet - now clad in crown and heels and thong and very little else - the Enchantress gasped deeply.  She backed up until her projecting and now barely-covered round buns were pressed to either side of the shining pole, cradling it between them.  Then, with a desperate and humiliated moan, she nevertheless resumed dancing.

The men hooted with pleasure to see even more of the Asgardian beauty dancing for their pleasure.  Then, reaching into their pants, they pulled out wallets.  Coming forward, they approached the window.  With the press of a button, a small opening down near the floor slid aside, creating a gap.  A cloth curtain and enclosed molding around it ensured the inmate still could not see through to determine who it was that was watching her.  Thrusting their hands through, the guards held out an array of fives and singles for their dancing prisoner.

Looking down, noticing the little tangle of hands and the bills they were holding, the Enchantress gasped deeply, her blue eyes quivering in undeniable outrage that she, an agent of nigh-cosmic power and ambition, should ever stoop to considering such meager rewards for anything - let alone for the sacrifice of her pride and dignity.  And yet, after a few more seconds of staring at them, her scantily-clad body shivering and her open lips trembling, she could not seem to resist.  With a deep moan, she suddenly dropped down to her knees.  Crawling over, she knelt on all fours beside the little window.  Tilting her round hip up, she proffered its spectacular curves before the waving male hands.  Then, reaching back, with her own hand she inserted a finger into her tiny green thong and then peeled it up - and then waited, lips open and quivering, to receive her reward.

Snickering, one by one the guards thrust their hands out and delivered the tokens of their appreciation to her.

Upon the other side of the barrier, the Enchantress gasped, her cheeks blushing deep pink between the sides of her crown, as she watched and felt one meager bill after another get slid along her silky flawless flesh, pushed into place by a grubby and unworthy mortal finger, until it was pinned securely inside her skimpy sacred thong.  Then, once all had been delivered, she used her own trembling hooked finger to relax her panty back up against her flesh - leaving a small forest of ones and singles trapped inside the left hip of her thong.

But her ordeal was not over.  Accompanied by more hoots, a matching window on the far side slid open, and more small-denomination bills were proffered to her.  Gasping, the Enchantress gaped at them in horror.  Then, with an accepting moan, she rose up onto all fours again and, crawling decoratively with her thong-clad ass wiggling high in the air, obediently went and knelt before that one too.  With a trembling hand she pulled up the empty side of her thong and let another group of chortling men fill that up too.  Then she crawled back to the stage and knelt upon it.

The intercom crackled again.

"How much did you get?" a voice asked her.

Spell-casting lips hanging open and quivering, the Enchantress looked down at her buxom fertile hips, and mentally counted.

"Th-thirty eight dollars, and one parking ticket," she answered.

"Is that fair compensation for you dancing for us while you strip?" the voice crackled.

Her eyes flashing, the Enchantress promptly shook her head no - her golden hair whipping and shimmering gloriously around her as she did so.

"Absolutely not!" the Asgardian villainess hissed.  "Under most circumstances, I would consider entire planets insufficient payment for giving a display as demeaning as this to unworthy cretins such as you."

"Interesting..." the voice crackled back.  "May I remind you, your conqueror may be watching... so you should probably answer as if he is, just in case."

At this, the Enchantress's wicked blue eyes went wide, and her entire face registered briefly with shock.

"Oh!" she gasped.  Her half-naked body squirmed deliciously, at the very idea.  Looking down, she studied the money stuffed into her thong, and then looked back up.

"In... in that case," she admitted softly, "I have been vastly overpaid... for I deserve to give that one all this, and much more, without hesitation, whenever it is requested..."

All around her, the voices of the guards chortled at this response.  The Enchantress gasped at this, squirming upon her knees - but did not otherwise reply to their lecherous laughter.

"Well, in that case," the voice said, "you owe us something in exchange, right?"

The Enchantress gasped - and then, biting her lip, slowly nodded.  "Just... just in case he is present... watching me... yes I do..." she said.

"Pay up," the disembodied guard ordered her.

The Enchantress moaned softly, and squirmed.  But she could not resist long.  Gorgeous face looking downwards in anticipation and horror, her lips hanging open and quivering, she reached down... and slowly slid both mighty spell-casting thumbs down into the skimpy bill-laden waistband of her thong.

Outside her own window, Miss Americana shivered in disbelief.  Then, unable to watch even as wicked and notorious villainess as she continue to strip any further, she whirled away from the transparent wall and faced back towards her friends and Warden Bunny.

"H-how?" she said - nodding back through the wall behind her where Amora, accompanied by laughs and chortles from all sides, was just starting to pull down her thong.  "How could you do this to her?"

"Yeah," Lady Midnight said, stroking her cheek - as unlike Miss Americana, she continued watching.  "Doesn't her kiss make men into her slaves?" she asked, remembering her security briefings about the Asgardian arch-villainess.  "I would think that would make her an exceptionally dangerous opponent for the Boarman... I mean, from what I've heard."

Warden Bunny smirked, observing through the window as Amora tugged her thong down past her knees.

"It does," she confirmed.  "But you know what?  It turns out you can go look up the text of all those old spells she uses, and find loopholes.  And it just so happens that, technically speaking, for the purposes of that spell, deep-throating the everliving shit out of her haughty wicked face until she begs for mercy doesn't count as 'kissing'.  Though I don't think even she knew that... until she got taught the long thick and hard way."  She shrugged, and smirked.  “Or, uh, so I heard,” she hastily added.

The heroines gasped softly at this - but they weren't really listening.  Even Miss Americana had turned back, and watched in horror, as the blonde villainess slipped her panties all the way off and knelt on stage naked.  She let her thong dangle from one ankle.  The meager bills she had been given, having all fallen out by this point, lay scattered across the stage below her - along with the rest of her costume.

Then, clearly knowing that more was expected of her than just stripping, the Enchantress promptly spread her legs wide - so wide that even the windows to either side of her had a clear view.  Reaching down, with a trembling hand, she began to massage her bare pussy.

"Open up," the voice crackled.  "Show us the only part of you your conqueror should care about."

The Enchantress gasped, and then slowly nodded.

"Okay..." she whispered.

Then, she slid two slender fingers deep down into her pussy, and began to slowly spread them apart.

With a groan, Miss Americana spun away from the window again.  "I... I can't watch anymore of this," she said, as behind her the Enchantress slowly spread open her vagina until the deep and glistening pink cavity inside was fully on display.  "Let's go..."

"As you wish," Warden Bunny said, smirking.  Turning, she led them away.

As they reached the security door, Warden Bunny reached into the pocket of her blazer. She fished out her ID, and used it to open the door.  Then she slid it back into place.  The heroines found themselves in a small empty guard room.  A bank of elevators lay on one side, security doors leading to unlabeled other parts of the prison lay on other walls.

"So this concludes our tour of the main prison facility," the Warden said.  "There are other rehabilitation areas we will not be seeing - massage training, secretarial duties, underwear modeling, camgirl performance, and the like.  You know - training our particular sort of inmate for the kinds of careers they would actually be good at.  But if we visit all those we will be here all night, and not everything can be on the main tour.  Next we will be visiting our sister-facility, the Happy Echoes Childcare Center... which is also the scene of a great deal of rehabilitation, but for rather obvious reasons needs to be a little separated from the main prison.  Ready for a walk girls?"

The heroines nodded.

Pulling out her badge, Warden Bunny used it to summon an elevator.  They rode down a few floors in silence, then started out along a long corridor. This soon broke out out of the side of the main building, turning into a long curling enclosed walkway, partially sunken below ground level.  Through large windows to either side, they could see the moonlit outdoor grounds of the Hyboria complex stretching out around them, to the distant perimeter wall.  This was mostly palatial garden, with fountains and patios sited here and there amidst pathways that stretched between flower beds and other plantings.

"We also have gardening - decorative and practical - as part of our rehabilitation classes," Bunny said, gesturing out towards the dimly lit gardens outside.  "As well as flower arranging and the like... but for obvious reasons you won't see much of that at night."

Strutting out ahead, Warden Bunny broke out a little ways ahead of the heroines who, walking side-by-side, naturally moved at a slightly slower gait.

"What did you think of all that?" Omega Woman asked the other two, nodding back to the multi-domed prison building that towered up against the night behind them.

Miss Americana shook her head, her face quivering.  "This place is an abomination!" she said.

"Perhaps..." Omega Woman said.  "But... I did not realize that they were containing such powerful villainesses.  I had always thought the likes of the Starlet or Silver Star were more Boarman's speed.  If Lady Death or the Enchantress were running loose instead of being held up here..."

She shivered, in her straining red and yellow bikini, as she imagined the carnage those two alone could wreak, if busy at yet another wicked scheme rather than devoting their time to cooking and wiggling their bodies seductively and whatever other training had been deemed suitable for them.

"Not only that," Lady Midnight said, her own gaze slightly distant as she strutted along in her skimpy purple costume.  "But their techniques do seem... more effective than I would have thought.  Given what they have managed to do with those arch-vixens... it would be interesting to see what would happen if you sent Dragon Queen or Thorny Rose here."

"That... that is not even worth thinking about!" Miss Americana said, hotly.  "Besides, even if they are effective, the treatments they have selected are just so... so demeaning!  I cannot possibly condone this, no matter how evil the ladies it is being done to!!"

"That’s a fair point," Lady Midnight admitted, tapping her lip.  But though the objection was serious enough to silence her, from the expression upon her lovely dark face behind her mask she had not actually stopped thinking about it.  Though the squirm that ran through her scantily-clad hips indicated it perhaps was not the villainesses she was imagining being stuck on the inside…

Their opportunity for private discussion came to a close as they neared another security door.  Warden Bunny badged them through, and they found themselves in a small waiting room that connected to an exterior door, with a second security door behind them.

"This is a unique part of our facility," Warden Bunny said.  "When male villains go on a rampage, they naturally tend to sow their wild oats - but said seed either ends up inside you heroines, who deal with it as you will, or out amidst the public; making it difficult to centralize."

Standing in her jacket with her hands on the hips of her patriotic panties, Miss Americana shivered and glared at the implication that she was defeated regularly enough to need to come up with a game plan to deal with villainous semen inside her - never mattering that it might be true.  To either side of her, Omega Woman and Lady Midnight merely gasped softly, their eyes blinking wide behind their masks.

"But our own inmates, while in their own way often no less promiscuous, being female, often show up in our facility with the precious consequences of their… shall we say ‘indiscretions’ already growing inside them.”  Warden Bunny continued - noticing Americana’s irritation but reacting only with a slight smirk.  “Meaning that we have to deal with those blessed consequences ourselves.  Where that actually starts will be the last stop on our tour, but first, since the by-product of our villainesses's sexual indiscretions are born on premises, and their mothers remain in custody, we cannot simply let things work themselves out, the way civilian women left impregnated in the aftermath of a villain's rampage in your city are.  We must deal with them properly, whether we want to or not."

Hands on her hips, Miss Americana shivered.  "I... I don't like the implications of what you're implying!" she hissed.

"Is it wrong?" Warden Bunny cooed, smirking.

"I... I will have you know that I - I mean Brenda Wade and the other leading women of Delta City, give to numerous charities designed to deal with exactly the issues you are discussing!"

Warden Bunny rolled her eyes.  "Yes... and it's clearly working wonderfully given how many new villains show up to try to fuck you ladies, year after year!" she said.  She badged open the door behind them, and led them through into another viewing corridor.  This one also had several one-way mirrors, but was more warmly decorated, with plush couches and bright wall-paper.

"In any case," Warden Bunny said to the seething Americana, as she ushered the Queen of Justice and her friends in after her, then let the door close behind them, "since they are born in our custody, in our case we simply have no choice.  Their mothers, being prisoners, cannot care for them - and until their rehabilitation is nearly complete, often loudly declare their complete disinterest in doing so.  There was at one time a proposal that we foster them out, but I successfully squashed that as far too dangerous - thank God!  So instead, they are raised here."

Ushering the heroines along the corridor, Warden Bunny spoke a little more softly.

"Given the late hour, many of the younger ones will be asleep," she said.  "But not all of them.  Presumably due to their strange parentage, some of our blessings keep odd hours themselves - and we have special groups to accommodate that.  We will look in on one of them."

Proceeding down the corridor, the heroines saw a couple of empty classrooms - of the sort clearly intended for toddlers or other very small children, with low plastic tables and bins of toys and padded mats and the like - which were quiet and dimly lit.  But the third one proved to have the lights on at full blast and was occupied.

Lining up behind the windows, the heroines gasped, staring.

Within the occupied classroom were perhaps a half-dozen toddlers, appearing to be generally either just above or just below two years old in age.  True to the nature of such beings they were running around, climbing on everything they could find, and making a terrific racket.  Most of them had a clue here or there to their mother's supernatural heritage:  one girl had a little pair of devil-horns sprouting from her forehead.  Another girl had platinum hair and alabaster-pale skin… and, giggling happily, was making an alphabet block levitate before her.  Meanwhile, one of the boys had a scaly tail extending out of a special hole in the back of his diaper, which he was using to sweep a shelf clear of toys; while a second and third had blue and purple skin respectively.

Standing amidst the turbulent tots, watching them with a tired contented expression, was a figure Americana immediately recognized as Jailbait - another of the Boarman's oldest villains.  Though ‘oldest’ though accurate would be something of an ironic term in her case.  Although she would now be in her mid-forties, like she always had she retained the appearance of a well-developed yet barely-legal teenager.  

But her power of unaging was not what had earned Jailbait her nomme de guerre.  Throughout her long criminal career, she had leveraged her own apparent youth to recruit a seemingly endless succession of her ‘fellow’ nubile teen girls to serve as patsies or accomplices for her crimes.  Often, if the girls were even aware of the true nefarious nature of her scheme, they would be lured in by the assurance that, since they were too young to be tried as adults, they would get off without any real punishment.

And as far as the official justice system was concerned, her promises often proved true.  Unfortunately, the Boarman had not proved so lenient where wayward young ladies were concerned.  If rumors were true, he had made sure to track down each and every one of Jailbait's witting or unwitting accomplices, and ensure they got off to a very stiff series of punishments indeed.  But, teenage girls proving not to be the wisest creatures on Earth the fate of one batch of accomplices never seemed to prevent Jailbait from gathering another and another and another immediately after.  For the many years during which she could be counted as among the Boarman’s most prolific antagonists, Jailbait's exploits had kept both the Boarman and the city's paternity suit courts incredibly busy - and it was largely the need to revisit that massive potential backlog that ensured the city would only abandon its now firmly entrenched ‘urban legend’ excuse under the greatest possible duress.

But, Miss Americana belatedly realized, staring at her, that had all been many, many years ago.  Which was odd for a villainess whose defining trait was that she never faded even slightly in youth, beauty, or vigor.  As she watched, instead of crimes, Jailbait put her unnaturally youthful energy into chasing around the swarming toddlers and keeping them from fighting with one another or getting into too much danger - which, with super-tots such as these, appeared to be far more than a full-time job.

"You use former villainesses as... childcare?" Omega Woman asked, staring, looking more than slightly shocked herself.

"Current inmates too, if they're far enough along on their rehabilitation," Warden Bunny said proudly, watching her nubile success story stretching out impressively in order to get a winged toddler down from the bookshelf he had unwittingly perched himself atop.  "In fact, 'graduating' to come over here and help look after her own and other inmates' offspring is pretty much the final phase before we know a once-wicked beauty has really learned the error of her ways."

"Is she still an inmate, then?" Omega Woman asked, nodding towards Jailbait - who was currently in hot pursuit of the platinum-blonde girl who, after telekinetically stealing a stuffed rabbit, had left her demon-horned counterpart in tears.

"Technically no," Warden Bunny said.  "She got paroled two years ago.  But she's one of the live-in caretakers here at Happy Echoes now, and I'm not sure if she's actually set foot out of the building since she was free to do so - other than to take the kids on field trips."

Lady Midnight meanwhile, her eyes darting from toddler to screaming playing toddler, was distracted by something else.

"Is it just me," she asked.  "Or... do all of these kids look a little bit the same?"

It was true.  Despite the obvious differences in overt physical appearance - the horns and exotic skin colorations and the like - there was a distinct similarity in the cast of the face and the line of the jaw among all of them.  It was quite a bit more pronounced among the boys than the girls, but still visible on any of them if you looked just right.

"That's... that's right," Miss Americana said, staring.  Her buxom ass squirmed inside her tiny thong, as her eyes darted from one to the next.  "Almost... almost like they have the same father..." she whispered softly to herself, absently.

Standing behind them, watching, Warden Bunny smirked.

"If I were speaking in a purely personal capacity, I might agree with you," Warden Bunny said.  "But speaking in my official capacity as Warden, I must say that I have no idea what you are talking about and that you are obviously crazy."

"Have they been genetically tested?" Miss Americana asked, sharply.

"Tested against who?" Warden Bunny said, twirling her hair.  Her smirk broadened.  "How do you get a sample to test against from a myth?  Even if you did, how do you know it wasn’t an impostor or copycat?  Why, you might as well ask us to test against Bigfoot."  She turned and gestured further down the corridor.  "Come now.  Instead of asking silly questions, let's keep going," she said.  "There's still much to see."

Backing up from the window as well, the heroines followed.  Warden Bunny led them past a couple more dark windows, and then they approached one more glowing one.  Leaning out ahead, she peeked inside - and her smile broadened.

"Oh, good," she purred.  "I thought I remembered my schedule properly..."  Stepping back she turned to face the heroines and pointed into the room.  "Come, come," she cooed.  "I think you'll recognize this one..."

Curious but a little nervous the heroines came forward, and, turning, faced the viewing window.  Then their jaws dropped as they did indeed recognize the room's occupant.

Inside a small room, being watched over carefully by two guards, sat the notorious Delta City villainess known as Esha, alias the Bikini Bandit.  WIth a soft gasp, Americana belatedly realized that, as with Jailbait, she had not heard much from the buxom blonde thief in a little while - but had been busy enough with other villains and threats she had not really thought anything of it.

"Oh, Great Justice!" Americana gasped, one gloved hand rising up to hover before her own lips, as she beheld one of her own arch-enemies.  "How... how long has she been in Hyboria?"

"A while," Warden Bunny cooed.  "I don't remember exactly when - we get so many, what's one more?  But, y'know... I can give you a minimum time just based on what we're seeing!"

For Esha's mere presence was hardly the most shocking thing the heroines were seeing.  Sitting in a plush chair the voluptuous villainess was wearing her black French-cut bikini panty, and her heels and gloves and mask - but not her bra.  This was instead folded neatly over the arm of her chair.  In her arms the notorious blonde thief held a small baby, perhaps a few months of age, with a shock of blonde hair.   She held it cradled gently up against her enormous bare left breast, gasping softly as it suckled the life-giving milk out of her considerable natural reservoirs.

"Ahh..." Warden Bunny said, watching proudly.  "Nothing like mother's milk, right from the source, for a growing young lad..."

"You bring her over here for every feeding?" Omega Woman asked, incredulously.  "Isn't that like... every three hours at that age?"

Warden Bunny shook her head.  "Direct breast-feeding is a special treat she gets to have once a day if she's been good.  Otherwise her boy gets it from the common pool, like the others."

Miss Americana licked her lips.  Her buxom body squirmed in her jacket and panties, dreading the answer - but she had to ask anyways.  "C-common pool?" she said.  "What's that?"

Warden Bunny smirked.  "Oh, we make all our girls go on the milking machines multiple times per day.  If they're lactating, which is like, eighty percent of our population.  We haven't had to purchase formula to keep this place running in years."

Americana gasped at this.  But she did not continue the conversation for at that moment Esha's infant let out a tiny moan and detached his little lips from her gigantic breast.  A couple tiny droplets leaked from her pink tip, and his little tongue slid out to lap them up, but there was no more where that came from.

"You're dry," one of the watching guards said, gruffly.  "Put him back and let's get you back to your dome."  A small bassinet on wheels stood to one side, waiting to take Esha's son back to the communal nursery.

But the Bikini Bandit promptly shook her gorgeous masked head.  "No!" she protested softly.  "He's still hungry.  I can tell..."

Shifting the little mewling infant around in her arms, he swapped him around to her right breast.  This one, having not already been drained, appeared considerably more full and taut than her bouncy, depleted left.

"C'mon," Esha cooed, stroking her tiny child's head, her gloved fingers running through the little wisps of blonde hair.  "Get what you need..."

The little infant blinked its sleepy eyes a few times... and then its expression grew wide, as if in awe, as it beheld the enormous full breast presented before it.  It licked its tiny lips.  Then, with a hungry little mewl, it slid its head forward and latched.  A moment later, its tiny lips working furiously around Esha's engorged pink teat, it began to take yet more of her milk in spurt after spurt down its tiny gullet.  As her breast distended slightly under its furious suction, Esha squirmed, her buxom hips wiggling upon her seat in her tiny panties, and cooed with wonder.

"Okay," Warden Bunny said.  "Let's get moving."

She ushered the heroines away from the window, and led them through another security door.  Soon they were on their way back down the sunken enclosed walkway back to the main prison building.

"There is obviously much more to Happy Echoes than we have seen," Warden Bunny said airly as they walked.  "We keep most of our blessings here until majority, so there are individual dorms for the older kids, dining rooms, classrooms.  That said, given the late hour, there's not much to see that wouldn't be intruding on teens in their bedrooms... and I don't get the impression this part of the facility is of particularly high interest to you anyways."

She glanced back, to the three heroine's buxom scantily-clad bodies, and their broad fertile bellies, and smirked.

"At least, not yet..." she cooed softly.

Bringing them back into the prison, they went back through a couple rooms they had already been in and then down another sunken enclosed walkway, shorter than the first.

"Last stop," she said, "our specialized hospital facilities..."

Miss Americana signaled to the others, and the three Delta City heroines drew close together behind the Warden's curvy back.  "This is it," she said.  "If our deductions are correct, this is the part of the facility the Dark Prizm will need to have access to.  So we need to find a way to jump this tour and explore around ourselves - and quick!"

"One of you two create a distraction," Lady Midnight advised.  "I'll sneak her badge out of her pocket.  I have a tool in my utility belt to clone it."

"Great!" Americana said.

Speaking of her badge, as they approached another security door at the end of the enclosed walkway Warden Bunny pulled it out to open the door, then turned around.

"Just to warn you, the next part of our tour is going to be a little different," she said.  "We cannot have viewing areas here the way we do in the other two buildings - medical privacy laws are far too strict for that, even for career criminals.  So we are going to be moving through the same hallways everyone else is in.  We will be visiting just a few select rooms where the patient has signed a waiver permitting viewing, or are deemed... not subject to those laws by virtue of not being sufficiently human.  In the meantime you need to be on your best behavior, and for God's sake don't touch anything.  Got it?"

"Got it!" Omega Woman said.

"Who do you think we are, that you need to tell us that?" Miss Americana asked, indignantly, hands upon her buxom hips.

Warden Bunny smirked.  "I don't have to think - I know exactly what you are, which is why I said what I did.  Now, follow me."

She led them into the halls of the attached hospital.  It was not busy, but as she had warned they were in the general hallways of the facility, and in the distance they could see a couple of scrub-clad nurses moving down the hallway.

"So this is a general women's hospital," Warden Bunny said.  "We handle regular checkups and pap smears and the like for our inmates - and can call outside surgeons into our high-security O.R. if need be for special procedures.  But the vast majority of the facility is devoted to obstetrics for reasons that by now should be obvious.  So our first stop... is going to be a birthing."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Omega Woman gasped.

Lady Midnight gave her an odd look.  "You clearly haven't actually seen one recently..." she muttered.

Warden Bunny led them through the halls.  They passed a nurse's station, and down a bank of birthing rooms.  They could tell they were getting close to the correct one as the sounds of screaming started to get louder and louder.

"Keep back," Warden Bunny advised them, as she turned the doorknob.

They entered.  The heroines gasped, almost knocked over the sounds of moaning and squealing that started to instantly wash over them.  Trembling, they came forward and, with Warden Bunny, stood at the edge of the room.

Within, a buxom platinum-blonde woman was laid out in the bed.  Though she was currently naked save for a hospital gown and a mask, based on her hair and complexion, and the fur-lined skintight catsuit hanging up nearby, it was easy enough to recognize her as the notorious thief and sometime anti-heroine known as the Black Cat.  Her already massive breasts were even bigger than normal, to accompany the huge bulge in her belly.  The busty beauty must have ventured from her usual Manhattan prowling zones and tried to slip in and empty Broodhaven of some of its valuables - and was now paying the price for straying into the Boarman's territory.

Around her sweaty squealing form a small squad of nurses bustled, while a suited-up OB/GYN knelt down beneath her ass.  Her sleek legs were spread wide, her bare feet trembling in stirrups.  Beneath her neatly-trimmed platinum-blonde bush, her naked pussy was already dilating out considerably.

"Oh, good!" Warden Bunny said, her eyes lighting up at the sight.  "She's almost ready."  She flagged down a passing nurse, briefly.  "How long has she been in labor?" she asked.

The nurse glanced at the clock, and did some quick mental arithmetic.  "Twenty hours total, but serious contractions for about the last ten," she answered.

"Fuck," Lady Midnight said, staring at the lithe, screaming, shivering beauty in horror.

But the contractions kept coming, and as they did the crown of the baby's head slowly appeared in between the lips of the Black Cat's pussy.  It spread wider and wider, until, biting her lip and whimpering, the platinum-blonde villainess looked stunned.

"Oh... oh fuck!" she whimpered, her eyes wide and dazed.  "I... I haven't been spread like this since... since... since he... oh GODDD!!!"  Then she fell back into helpless non-verbal screaming as another contraction hit, and the baby's head pushed out a little further between the straining lips of her pussy.

"Are you absolutely sure about the epidural dear?" one of the nurses asked her politely.  “It’s not too late…. quite.”

Black Cat's lip's trembled, and tears leaked from her eyes, but then she shook her head back and forth, even as it shivered.  "No… no, I... I want to feel... every... every... oh FUCK!"

Her body gave another push.  The watching heroines gasped in horror, as before their wide eyes the Black Cat's pussy spread impossibly wide.  Then, with one last contraction the baby slipped through and began to scream.

The heroines gasped and stood in a row, feeling like they were floating in space and watching from another dimension, as around them bedlam ensued.  The baby was pulled out the rest of the way, the cord snipped, and it was taken away to be quickly cleaned and weighed.  The Black Cat was left sprawled and stunned for a few seconds, her pussy gaping wide... as the placenta eventually followed the baby out.  Then at last her devastatingly over-stretched vagina started to come back together.  Meanwhile, beneath her curvy buttocks, she had been forced to completely empty her bowels - and a nurse leaned in.

"Let me just wipe this up for you dear," the nurse cooed, taking care of her mess.  She smirked slightly.  "You'll be doing plenty of that yourself, for the next few years," she added slyly.

At last the baby was brought back to its mother and laid upon her ample chest.  Too tired to do much else, the platinum-blonde beauty stared down at her progeny.  Then she reached up and stroked his face slightly as it blinked back up at her - having momentarily grown tired of crying and instead just taking in his strange new surroundings.

"He has his eyes..." the Black Cat whispered softly.

Warden Bunny smirked.  Then she turned her head.  "Okay, show's over," she whispered.  "Let's leave our new mother to bond with her little blessing."

Obeying without question, the heroines filed out of the room and stood around silently for a few seconds, still looking a bit stunned.  As they did so a call crackled through the PA system calling for preparations in O.R. number one.  Two nurses with face masks and hair coverings in place rushed past - and then turned their heads briefly to stare at the two heroines.  One reached up quickly to tuck her bright green hair back inside her hairnet.  Then, turning, they hustled quickly away again.  The heroines, still wearing thousand-yard stares as they processed what they had just seen, failed in any way to notice.  Even though they witnessed the birth of fast-growing monsters often enough, the ‘real thing’ was if anything far more traumatic and affecting.

"Okay," Warden Bunny said.  "This just about concludes our tour.  One last stop.  But it's a doozy."

She took them down a couple hallways, into a relatively quiet section of the hospital.  Pulling out her badge, she touched it to a non-descript door.

Inside was a bare and windowless hospital room.  It had a single occupant,  a woman strapped down naked to a wheeled hospital bed in the center of the room.  A brace of IV's and beeping monitors lay around her.  The heroines approached and stared.

She was of obvious Asian descent.  Though she was naked, on a nearby rack hung what appeared to be a white Chinese gown in an ancient style, ordained with pearls that glowed softly and with embroidery in nine different colors.  Her skin was alabaster pale and her lips cherry-red.  Her long hair was done up in an ornate style that towered up over her the same height as her head itself, with nine jade statuettes of dragons embedded in it, poking out in a manner not unlike a crown.  If all this were not enough, a faintly phosphorescent reddish-gold mist seemed constantly to billow around her.

The mysterious Chinese woman had a clear gas mask fitted over her face which, in addition to the multiple IV's in her veins, was obviously keeping her heavily sedated.  Several monitors lay around her, beeping softly.

"This," Warden Bunny said, staring down at the unconscious pale-skinned and raven-haired beauty, "near as we can tell, is Jiutian Xuannu - the 'Dark Lady', an ancient Chinese goddess of war, sex, and immortality.  She came here a few years ago and fucked some shit up in Broodhaven's Chinatown.  The Boarma- er, I mean, one particular heroic citizen who remains anonymous -  figured out how to handle her.  But no-one else can.  You can't kill her.  Last time she got loose the guards put like eighty rounds into her and not one of them had left so much as a scratch a few seconds later.”

Reaching out, she stroked the slumbering goddess’s cheek lightly, and then shook her head.

“I don’t know what her original bitch was about but, as you can imagine, whenever she wakes up now she’s also quite pissed about that whole ‘got imprisoned by mortals’ thing.  So, our only real option is to keep her permanently comatose... which is why she's over here, and not in the prison.  The only exception is that every once in a while, a particular rehabilitation specialist will come and take another crack at her.  No luck so far, we always just have to put her right back under once he’s through, before she starts going all Twelve Plagues of Egypt on us, or whatever the Asian equivalent of that would be.  Not really eager to find out."

"Rehabilitation specialist?" Miss Americana asked, sharply.  “Which rehabilitation specialist?!”

Warden Bunny smirked.  "That's not information I'm at liberty to disclose," she answered primly.

Miss Americana looked back and forth at her two comrades.  At an unspoken signal, they leaned closer.

"This is definitely it," she whispered softly to them, while Bunny seemed distracted studying her most powerful inmate.  "The Prizm needs a superhuman womb for their stolen seed.  What better than that of an actual goddess?  Plus, she's already sedated and in a hospital bed and everything.  There is no doubt whatsoever.  She has to be their target."

"Agreed," Lady Midnight said.  "But what are we going to do?"

"I'll think of something," Miss Americana promised.  "Just watch closely and be ready to follow up!"

"Right!" Omega Woman affirmed.

"What are you three whispering about?" Warden Bunny asked, looking up.  She wrinkled her nose suspiciously, upon seeing them whispering like naughty conspiring schoolgirls, across the unconscious Chinese goddess from her.

"Nothing," Miss Americana said swiftly, straightening back up.

"Just speculating about her hair, is all," Lady Midnight said, thinking fast as she did the same.

"How do you shampoo her and get it back into that form?" Omega Woman asked, curiously, pointing to the elaborate dragon-decorated styling.

"Oh," Warden Bunny said.  She looked as well, and then shrugged.  "Yeah, that's a goddess thing too I suppose.  It always looks like that.  You can spill a pint of coffee into it and it will still look and smell like she just washed.  You can hack at it with a razor blade, and it will look just like that seconds later.  No bad hair days - ever.  Lucky bitch.  Now, let's go."

She led them back out of the room, and into the hallway - making sure the security door closed firmly behind them.

"Okay," she said, leading them away back down the hall.  "Well, that pretty much concludes our tour.  I can drop you off at the gift shop if you'd like to buy some of our branded toys and lingerie - perfect for spicing up your boring bedrooms.  Though knowing you girls, I doubt you’ve had a nice straight-up ‘conjugal visit’ in years, so that would probably just be a waste.  But other than that, I'm afraid I really am quite busy, so..."

As she spoke, Americana was trying to think of how best to cause a distraction.  But as it turned out, she didn't have to think at all.  As she walked beside the Warden, her head turned to look down a side hallway they were passing - and her eyes suddenly went wide as way down at the other end she saw something, or more precisely some one, entering a distant door, that briefly rendered her speechless.  Then her jaw dropped and she skidded to a halt.

"What... what the... in the name of Justice is SHE doing here?!" Miss Americana whispered, shocked.  Then, face setting up with suspicious fury, without another word the Queen of Justice whirled around and started marching off down the hall, away from the rest.

Warden Bunny yelped.  "Hey!" she said.  "This is a maximum-security fucking medical facility!  C-come back here!"

She took off in hot pursuit.  But Americana had a good head start, and a visibly befuddled Omega Woman made a point of 'accidentally' getting in the way, dodging pneumatically back and forth but each time ending up right in front of her, before Bunny just swore and made a long arc all the way around her.

Arriving at the door she had seen, Miss Americana threw it open.  Then she stood in the doorway, her hand trembling on the handle, and stared.

Within was a small examination room.  Inside it was a long reclining chair, that faced away from the door and towards a large television mounted on the wall.  Beside the chair a tech sat at a workstation, facing a computer.  At Miss Americana's entrance the tech, a graying woman in her fifties wearing scrubs, looked up and stared in shock.  But the occupant of the chair could not see, facing away and still staring breathlessly at the screen.

"Who is it?" Flag Girl asked, as her voluptuous naked teen bottom wiggled nervously against the soft fabric of the seat.

At that moment, Warden Bunny showed up.  She gave a brief tug at Americana - but realizing that with her power belt she was going to have no luck moving the mighty heroine by force, and that the Queen of Justice's brain seemed to have shut down entirely at what she was seeing, the Warden instead peeked around Americana's arm.  Catching her technician's eye, she reached up and tapped a vertical finger repeatedly to her lips, advising her on how to respond.

The tech swallowed.  Then she turned back to her own workstation.

"Just... just a nurse checking on a couple things," she advised her patient.  "She'll be gone soon enough, pay her no mind.  Now, are you comfortable?"

Flag Girl squirmed, and then nodded.  Her head rested back against the angled back of her seat - the high wings of which worked further to ensure she did not actually see who it was that was watching.

"Yes," the blonde teen said.

"The goo's not too cold?" the technician asked.

Flag Girl shook her head, eyes still glued to the screen.  "Not at all," she said.

"Alright, then let's get started," the technician said.

And, reaching out, she pressed the sensor wand of her ultrasound up against Flag Girl's broad flat belly, and began to sweep back and forth.  It didn't take long.

"There we are," the technician said.

"Oh... oh my God..." Flag Girl whispered, hand rising up to her lips.  Her eyes leaked tears, staring up in awe, as the live ultrasound image of the little fetus growing inside her began to twitch live upon her screen.  Its tiny head was in profile, the microscopic arms waving back and forth.  She shook her head, in wonder.  "It's... oh my God, it really is in there..." she whispered.

The technician smiled softly.  "First time seeing it?" she asked, still exploring around with her wand - checking it for completeness before she began her diagnostic measurements.

Flag Girl nodded, eyes still shining.

Standing in the doorway, Miss Americana's reaction was no less disbelieving - although judging by the expressions flickering across her otherwise stunned-stupid face, her emotions were roughly the opposite of those filling her ward and sidekick.

Lifting up on tiptoe, Warden Bunny put her lips near Americana's ear.

"This is a serious fucking violation of her medical privacy rights," she pointed out.  "You need to leave, now."

Recovering enough to turn her head, Americana did so - her blue eyes still glued to the tiny fetus squirming inside her sidekick’s womb upon the screen before her.  "I am her guardian..." she pointed out, softly but fiercely.

"Not in Broodhaven you're not," Warden Bunny retorted.  "She's of age here.  And you brought her here."

Miss Americana swallowed, and then nodded.  Slowly, she backed out of the room.

The technician glanced up again.  "The nurse is leaving now, dear," she said, still sweeping with her wand.

Flag Girl, still gaping up at the images on the screen in wonder, did not bother to reply.

Outside in the hall, Americana stared into the distance.  Standing before her, Warden Bunny glared, her hands folded beneath her breasts.  Then, at her old rival's visible distress and discomfort, she could not help but let a little smirk slowly spread across her lips.

"You didn't know until now, I take it?" she asked, in a subtly taunting coo.

Miss Americana took a deep breath, and then slowly shook her head.  "How... how could she keep this from me?" she asked in a soft hollow voice.

Warden Bunny's smirk broadened.  "Well, just a guess," she said.  "But given how you're reacting now, I'm going to say that whoever the father is... she doesn't think you would want her keeping it."

Miss Americana looked up sharply.  "Do... do you know who dared to do THAT to my precious little girl?!" she asked, pointing into the ultrasound room in fury.  "If so, you had better tell me now - or else!"

At her threat, Warden Bunny rolled her eyes.  "It's like first trimester, how the fuck would I know that?  Even if I did - I just had to drag you out of there for a serious violation of medical privacy.  Now you have the ovaries to ask me THAT?!"

Miss Americana seethed, but slowly nodded.  She was somewhat mollified by the sight of a smirking Lady Midnight, standing just behind the distracted Warden, quietly slipping her badge back into her pocket. She winked at Americana across Bunny's pink shoulder, to let her know her job was done.

"Fair point," Americana admitted.  Taking a deep breath, she shoved the recent revelations about her sidekick aside as best she could.  After all, there would be plenty of time to deal with that, later.  As much as six months’ worth, give or take…

Warden Bunny shook her head.  "Let's get you sluts the fuck out of here," she said.

But at that moment her phone started beeping.  Warden Bunny pulled it out of her other pocket, looked at it, and swore.

"Something else I have to deal with," she said, sliding the phone back into her pocket.  "A Warden's duties are never done."

Escorting them as far as a nurse's station, Warden Bunny handed them off to two pudgy guards she found there.

"Take these three back to the main entrance and put them out," she directed.

Americana spoke up.  "Actually, I sent my car around," she said.  "Service exit over here will work fine."

Warden Bunny rolled her eyes.  "Whatever," she said. "As long as they leave, promptly. If they give you any trouble, don't hesitate to call the cops. I think they would just love to come and deal with them."

Warden Bunny strutted off, as fast as her long legs and short skirt would allow.   Soon she was gone.  The guards dutifully escorted the heroines to the service exit, and for the moment the heroines made a show of meekly following.

Soon enough they found themselves on a back loading dock.  The guards got one last leering look at the Delta City babes' scantily-clad backsides, which even by their usual standards were quite spectacular.  Then they let the door close.  With a click and whirr they heard it lock automatically behind their rounded buns, leaving the three heroines outside and alone.

Lady Midnight pulled a small device out of her belt.  She changed settings briefly.  Then she tested it on the lock.  It promptly clicked open.

"Success!" Lady Midnight said, seeing that her cloning of the Warden's passcard had worked.

"Good job," Miss Americana said. She looked around.  "Let's not go right back in.  Too obvious.  Let's see if we can find another door."

The three heroines walked down the deserted dock and around a corner.  There, still in a walled-in area facing a parking lot, next to some large air-handling equipment, they did indeed find another pair of doors.  Based on the covered seating nearby, and the numerous stubbed-out butts littering the area, this one was mainly used by the staff for smoke breaks. The cloned card worked on it too, and soon they were back inside.

They found themselves in a back service corridor.  Slinking forward, Americana cracked open a white door, peeked out, and saw the main hospital hallways again.

"I think I recognize where we are," she said to the other two.  "Follow me."

They did so.  The heroines strutted openly down the hallway, hoping that any staff who saw them wouldn't know they were no longer supposed to be there.  They passed two masked nurses, and did their best not to make eye contact.

Which meant they missed the little wisp of electric blue hair slipping out of the right-hand nurse's hairnet, and the lock of crimson hair from the left.  The two 'nurses' turned and watched the oblivious heroines saunter further down the corridor, smirks visible behind their surgical masks.  Then, snickering, they turned and ducked into another room.

Soon the heroines arrived at the door to the goddess's room.  They opened it and went in.

"We need to lay a trap for them," Americana said.

Suddenly a voice crackled on the room intercom.  "I'm afraid it's a little late for that, idiots!"  Rude Ruby's voice cackled- unmistakable despite the static.

"What?!" Americana gasped, hands spreading out in shock to either side of her panty-clad hips.

But she didn't have time to make any more elaborate reaction.  A moment later, with a soft 'thunk' all the power in the room went out.  A few of the monitors, still running on battery backup, started blaring warning tones.  But the main ventilation machine that kept the slumbering goddess pumped full of soporific gas promptly shut down, its bellows deflating with a sad wheeze.  There was a backup power supply - and a couple sparks promptly flying out announced that the Prizm had preemptively sabotaged it.  The gas flowing down to the goddess's mouth promptly stopped.

The Delta City heroines stood transfixed, momentarily unsure what to do.  Within a few seconds, the fingers and toes of the previously comatose war goddess slowly twitched.

"Fuck..." Lady Midnight whispered softly.  The looks on the faces of her two comrades silently expressed similar sentiments.

Then, slowly, the eyelids of the slumbering goddess flickered, and then rose up - to reveal a sea of pure jet black like a moonless night.  After a long period of dormancy the Dark Lady, Goddess of War and Sex, was awake once more.

Next Up:  Miss Americana must deal with the Dark Prizm’s plot again as she faces The Trap.