It's a Super World

I would ask some of those questions if I intended to do my job. I was here for myself, though, with questions carefully choreographed to tell me what I needed to know.

"It's no secret that the people don't understand why powers have only arisen in women," I began. "Have you discovered the source of the changes, and why they spread across the globe so suddenly? I take it that you're familiar with the 2012 theories, and the Resurrection of the Goddess articles."

"Of course. Our new colleague, Fembrain, assures us that she is close to answering these important questions. What we do know is that the phenomenon is a natural progression—this was not a scheme concocted in a secret laboratory. We are curious as the specific cause, the same as others. We're obviously pleased with the results, however it came about."

Fembrain. Why hadn't someone been given the gift of super-marketing to help the others pick out better names for themselves? "Is it true that Fembrain 'sees' in ten dimensions? Some believe that her almost limitless intellect makes her even more powerful than The Triumviri."

"We three are invulnerable," she answered smugly. "Even the incomparable Fembrain knows her place."

"You have no weaknesses? There's no kryptonite in this story?"

Laughter. "The Triumviri believe it unwise to advertise the scope or the limits of our powers. If there are any limits." She winked, and with the clicking of Chad's shutter I could imagine that wink appearing on every magazine cover in the world. Only it wouldn't, not if I had my way.

"Can Fembrain determine whether the powers bestowed upon a woman are permanent? You're all so young, after all. Might the powers dissipate with age?"

"The powers become one with the D.N.A. They are permanent and we are here to stay."

I scribbled, my hand trembling with excitement. "There's no chance that a supe will someday revert back to her pre-transformed self?"

"None."

"Do you have X-ray vision?"

SuperYoni stared straight at my tits, and grinned. "What do you think?"

She didn't. "There are rumors that some transformed women have not yet announced themselves, that they've chosen to hide their..."

"Nonsense."

"You know that? How?"

She looked thoughtful for the first time, as though a bit of Carrie Simmons—her real name before she'd become Thunderloins in the ring, then SuperYoni after her transformation—had finally agreed to participate in this interview. "Being a normal, you can't imagine how it feels to become like this," she said, the amplified voice sounding wondrous. "The changes come upon one so suddenly, the power churning to life inside, rippling through our bodies, going so deep that it's like even your soul has become something super!"

It took a ton of willpower to keep from laughing out loud. I saw no evidence of an evolved soul here, and that was the problem, wasn't it? "You make it sound like you gave birth to the power. Is it like that?"

"No, it's... Interesting, though, because people do talk about being 'born again'. I never understood what they were talking about when it was only a religious belief. Perhaps we, the transformed, really were born again, only as goddesses. I feel like that, like a goddess, and no woman would ever run from that feeling, or hide it from the world. She would celebrate it as we have. She'd bathe in it, and..."

"You speak as though there's a kind of sexual rapture involved."

"Do I?" her blue eyes twinkled.

"Some of the supersexuals speak about sexual rapture and the opening of the heart to what they call 'super-love'."

"Bully for them."

I'd irritated her with that one. Had I touched the lone spot that was vulnerable? "Even those not classified as supersexuals must have altered sex lives after transforming. You must know how my readers want to know about the, um, carnal possibilities of being super."

"You mean super-sex? They wish to know SuperGlands' cup size and all about my..."

"Your super-privates, yes."

She smiled, a bit wickedly. "Don't be so delicate! My transformed twat, that's what they want to know about."

"Well, you did name yourself for it. And it's kind of, you know, prominent. I'm almost afraid to ask this but I must. Is that some sort of prosthesis under your tights, or has your vagina really become that outstanding?"

The forceful laughter was not that far from a super-cackle. "I think we should continue to allow the ordinary people the pleasures of their imagination. Let them fantasize about it if they wish, and wonder."

I can read expressions, and hers said: "You're dying to know, aren't you? You fantasize about it yourself, don't you?" The answer to both questions was yes, yes, yes! I swallowed, and maintained control, and asked her about lust.

"Lust? Are you asking what I lust for?"

"The reverse, SuperYoni. You know how so many all over the world lust for you. I get the feeling you like that."

"I do, especially if they can't help themselves. To be feared and lusted over at the same time... I can live with that."

"You're the most popular, you know. Many already wonder if you're actually more powerful than SuperGlands or SuperBod. You can fly, they can't."

"No two transformed are identical. We are individuals, and receive our powers individually."

"I've followed your career since your debut with the Beautiful Wrestler's Federation three years ago. You were always the most skilled. Also the best looking and by far the most well-spoken. You're bigger and smarter and it only makes sense that you could still kick SuperGlands' and SuperBod's butts."

I'd watched hours and hours of film, and recognized this particular gleam in her eye. The competitive juices still flowed.

"You can kick their butts, can't you?" I egged her on.

"Anything in that direction would have to be off the record," she dangled, wanting to say it. "Off the record forever."

Her tone was serious. I put my pen down, and even motioned Chad to lower his camera. He was barely snapping any photos anyway, apparently caught up in our conversation. "We know what you could do to us if we betrayed your confidence, SuperYoni. If we promise..."

"I will kill you if you tell," she dictated the terms. "Both of you in the same second, even if you're on different continents, I promise."

"You can kick SuperGlands' ass! You can kick SuperBod's ass! You're the most powerful of the most powerful, I knew it! They aren't a threat to you, and Fembrain isn't a threat to you—no one is a threat to you!"

She had great teeth, and you could count them. "I could strand them on the fucking moon if I wanted," she chuckled. "I'm the tippy-top of the food chain, and it's a very nice place to be."

"Oh God this makes me excited!" I gushed through lips that really had begun to quiver. "I... Oh God it makes me so..."

The white teeth gleamed as I hiked up my skirt, tugging my panties aside to stroke what wouldn't stop aching.

"A natural reaction, if shockingly unprofessional," she commented, hovering out of her seat to stand upon the desk, fists on hipbones in that classic superhero show-off pose. She didn't think it odd at all that I would lose control, wanting to cream all over myself just from contemplating her magnificence. I did what she expected, groaning excitedly as I grasped the bottom of my blouse, then lifted, pulling it over my head in one smooth motion.

It was priceless, the look in her eyes when she said, "Guh!" Chad got something similar out, although his reaction was more wet and drooly. His camera dropped to the floor and I winced before remembering that his photos were on the memory card inside. Fuck publishing them—I was going to keep these photos as a souvenir.

I had chosen a semi-transparent white bra for this coming-out party, one size too small. My boobs bulged and enough flesh was visible for SuperYoni to be affected. She was struggling, though, fighting inside in a way no one else had. Fearful that her incredible strength might apply to her will, I hurriedly unhooked the clasps of my bra, the resulting surge of boobage hitting her with the full effect. She let out a much louder "Guhh!" when I pulled the bra away, setting my beauties free.

Still sitting in my chair, I hefted my super-breasts in my hands and pointed them right at SuperYoni. She was a fighter, I had to give her that. No one else had resisted in the least, whereas her scrunched face and corded neck muscles made it look like she might have a super-aneurism. One of her feet stamped reflexively, smashing the desk in half. She didn't fall, instead hovering higher, grunting something that might have been "bitch!" She looked overwhelmed, dazed, yet there was a deliberate target for her erratic flight, and it was me.

I fled my seat, backing away with my torso arched to keep my tits aimed at her eyes. She fell, the impact shaking the room and cracking the marble flooring to pieces. On hands and knees she crawled toward me, lust and rage intermixed behind her piercing irises, powerful fingers digging trenches in hard stone. I kept backing away, jiggling my tits and playing with the nipples for her to see. She groaned a room-shaking groan when I pulled at my nipples, and then her jaw finally dropped, the rest of her body losing all of its tensions. Her chin smashed the floor when she slumped down on her belly, panting for breath.

Or just plain panting. One of her arms was stretched forward but the other was underneath, and I heard the definite squish sounds of active fingers. I felt triumphant and power-drunk as I demanded: "Stop playing with yourself and look at me!" Her head tilted back and she peered up, eyes fixed on my tits like nothing else existed. I almost came from it, from seeing SuperYoni all glazed like a donut, abused marble and a trail of fragrant fluid marking her defeat.

Top of the food chain, my tits.

My knees felt wobbly and I sank down, the moment getting to me. I was panting too and I could feel sweat beading my forehead. I'd come this close to being squashed like a bug; no wonder I had an adrenaline rush. And no wonder my tits and pussy felt like they could fuck hordes of the superpowered, after having witnessed how awesome my abilities truly were.

I don't know how it works, any more than anyone has figured out how any of the powers work. My areolae don't twirl like tanned spirals, and people don't succumb to them through eyeglasses, or when they're reflected in a mirror. I've heard since turning fifteen that my breasts are just freaking gorgeous, and now they really are freaky—freaky hypnotic and freaky great. They've become so compelling that it's even a danger for me if I stare down at them for too long, so I don't. Normals go blank instantly, their hormones screaming for my boobs even as their willpower turns to mush. Not a bad way to get a quick fuck with no complications, but I'd known I was thinking too small when I experimented with that. I learned last night that even a transformed wonder like Silver Slit was not immune, and I took the ultimate gamble that SuperYoni, the most powerful super-being on the planet, would be the same.

I have a theory, based on personal experience, that when the changes came to life inside us, they amplified some chief feature or special trait that already existed. The awesomely muscled wrestling babes are an obvious example, and Fembrain had been dazzling the scientific world at age nineteen, two years before the changes. I'd built a good career for myself and I wasn't even twenty-six, so it might bruise my ego to admit that my tits were of better quality than my brains when the changes hit me. Or I could just be happy that I was one of the lottery winners, my winning ticket right there in my cleavage.

I guess I'd call myself something like HypnoTits or MesmerRack if I wanted tell the world about myself. I'd look pretty damn world-conquering in tights with my boobs thrusting out for all to worship, but the public will never know. No one will know, other than those unable to tell. I've downplayed my figure for years, allowing the spotlight to shine on others. I flourish behind the scenes as fame picks away at the souls of those who love being the peacocks of the world. I have no illusions about myself—I'm a decent person privately and a back room backstabbing parasite professionally, living off of others' fame. I did that quite well without any magical powers; now that my tits could turn even the most super of the supes into a mind-puppet, I saw no reason to change what works.

They could have the glory, attracting the cheers or the jeers. I'd just be the perfect pair behind the curtain, doing what I could to police the superpowered from the shadows. Oh, and getting off with tons of super-sex. Couldn't forget that, not after deciding it's what I live for. Find some actual love along the way and it might even be a perfect world.

"You will never do anything to harm me, or harm Chad Wilson," I wrote my first words upon the void that had once been SuperYoni's autonomous mind. "You will never allow anyone to harm me, even another Triumviri, because you live to serve me."

It was weird, feeling her silent screams of protest vibrating my tits. I'd felt the stimulating connection with others inside my nerve-endings before, signaling the point where I could impose fresh commands to my breast-struck victims without even speaking the words. This titnotic bond with SuperYoni was even more delicious, because a tiny spark of protest remained at her core, flickering but never lighting, filling her soul with frustration.

However you feel about it deep inside, I thought-commanded, outwardly you will always live to serve me. You will pretend to be autonomous and full of yourself just as before, but you are my obedient pet, now and forever.

"Forever," she repeated blankly. With that word I cried aloud, legs jerking wide with my tits afire as something like the death rattle of SuperYoni's will burned deep inside my chest. The connections between my tits and clit had become like a superhighway since the changes first appeared, but it had never been like this.

My tongue felt thick with anticipation as I ordered SuperYoni to tear the fabric of her costume away from between her legs. She did so at normal speed, perhaps intuiting how delicious each and every second was for me. I gasped when I saw it uncovered, and ordered her to hover in front of me, legs spread wide, the ultimate object of my desire parted for inspection.

It was almost too streamlined and too powerful, in the way an Italian sports car might look too streamlined and powerful sitting next to an ordinary sedan. I didn't know how she could shave but she was completely hairless, and the exaggerated folds had an exaggerated scent that filled my core. Though she hovered motionless I saw glistening highlights dancing on glistening membrane, and realized with a flush of fresh lust that her vagina was vibrating.

I needed to get off, desperately, and I'd prepared a plan for doing just that. I stood and considered Chad, still drooling from having his brains boobed for the umpteenth time. His big cock had become my regular office dildo in recent weeks, though he remembered none of it. I needed his equipment today, but more in the way of a guinea cock. I had to know whether SuperYoni's super-tongue and super-lips could pleasure something without destroying it, and whether something could enter that suped-up cunt and come out intact. If she could suck and fuck a weak male without obliterating his dick, then just imagine all I could do.

I would allow him the option of saying no to the experiment, but come on—he was a guy with a crack at a super-crack. I didn't want him cockless or even dead; I wanted the experiment to succeed, and would do everything in my power to make SuperYoni as super-gentle as she needed to be with him.

Don't move a muscle until I tell you to, I directed at SuperYoni as a precaution, then addressed my assistant. "Chad, I free you from the tit-spell. Your will is your own again."

He finished his arrested lust-groan as my commands supplanted the trance. We'd done this dozens of times, but of course it was always new to him. It was one of the greatest pleasures when I fucked someone now, that every time could be their first time if I wanted it that way.

He gasped for a while, bent over. "You're a supe!" he gushed. "Your tits..."

"Control minds, right. SuperYoni has no will of her own now, and I have a not so little proposition for you."

"My god, Heather, your tits are... I've never seen anything so..."

"Get over them, Chad. I need you sharp here."

"Get over them? How? They're so..."

"You have sunglasses, right? Put them on. They're just tits though glasses." The best tits ever, probably, but not magical beyond that. I'd never reveal how to avoid my power if I didn't know Chad would be made to forget. Actually, I knew he could be a slave to my tits even with the glasses on. He always pleaded for a tit-job once we got started, and fell into a different kind of trance if I allowed it.

"Jeez, Heather!" he exclaimed from behind his mirrored shades. "Do you have other powers, too?"

Jeez? When had Chad ever said that? "I have super-strength, though nothing close to SuperYoni's class. And super... appetites."

He always asked, "What sorts of appetites?" but this time he got it right off. Chad's lips broadened, more of a leer than a smile. I briefly wondered if he could remember his role in engaging my enhanced appetites on my desk or office couch, but that wasn't possible. Our dick-draining escapades were completely inaccessible to him unless I chose to set the memories free.

"You've been a very wicked girl, Heather Hendricks," he said, his voice growing higher in pitch. "I understand those super-appetites completely, believe me."

"Chad? What's..."

"In fact, I'm going to insist on sampling those appetites."

Fuck, it wasn't just his voice changing—all of him was changing! Changing into... "SuperYoni!" I exclaimed, knowing it was all wrong as I said it. "Oh fu..."

The super-speed might not have been quite as speedy, but it was still faster than I could deal with. I heard and felt the sonic boom and in the same instant found myself wrapped inside super-strong arms, a hot female body pressed into my behind.

"Shapely Shifter!"

"In the flesh!" she declared, and it really was bare flesh smacked against my back and ass. "And no longer must I put up with imitating pathetic male flesh. Now I've appropriated the most powerful flesh on earth!"

When had the switch been made—before I even picked Chad up this morning? When he went to the restroom? I struggled, but it couldn't be much different than struggling against the real SuperYoni. Shapely Shifter did appropriate the powers of those she imitated. She probably wasn't completely invulnerable; even so I was...

"Oh fu..." I began to cry out, finding myself thrown into the air. It was like being inside of a horny tornado on the way up, a blur of tit-sucking and finger-probing bringing me off in the space of two or three shocked heartbeats. I couldn't even draw a breath as she speed-stimulated me into a blinding orgasm, though I expelled air when my rump smacked upon the floor. My pussy ached like it had fucked a small sun and I felt warm drizzle dotting my bare flesh. Through blinking eyes I saw that my pussy was literally squirting, like I'd become a superhuman girl-cum fountain.

"Oh *God!" I choked out. I'm almost like a tank strength-wise, but I didn't know how many speedy fuck sessions I could take and still survive. I had to be crazy because I longed for more, even though it might be suicide.

"God?" Shapely Shifter/fake SuperYoni repeated. "I haven't figured out how to imitate that one yet!" She laughed and it was almost one of those evil genius cartoon laughs. "But being SuperYoni is close enough, don't you agree? Thanks for immobilizing her, and making this possible!"