New Rack City Ch. 01: The Rise

Welcome to New Rack City, where superheroes, villains, and mad science battles rage every day. Leotards, lab coats and insane experiments. Comic book heroes, comic book style sex with oversized...everything. A world of giant tits, ridiculously large cocks and endlessly ready, constantly horny, men and women. This is a "just for the fun of it" world with wall to wall crazed sex of several types: MF/MFF/FF/FFF/MMMMF. It is full of silly characters and plenty of nonsense. It is partly comedy, party parody and largely fun-to-write over-the-top wall-to-wall sex scenes that have little basis in reality. Mirror

1. New Rack City: The Rise of the Were-Nympho

The Turning

Felicity watched Dr. von Vahn, Certified Mad Scientist (ACIDSP: Association of Clinically Insane Doctors, Scientists and Psychologist) stalk haughtily from the Evil LaBORatories lab. He was laughing maniacally and clutching a glowing glass beaker. "Fools! All of them! Laugh at me, will they? They shall rue the day!"

Going back to her cleaning, Felicity shrugged. Dr. von Vahn pretty much said that every day. In fact, she couldn't remember a single time he'd left for the day without making the declaration since she'd started working there. That'd been over two years ago when she'd lost her job as a barista. The hipster coffee and tea shop she'd been working at was destroyed in an epic superhero-super villain battle between The Blazing Bolt and Professor Sinuous' Electro-Destructor Mandroid.

She'd spent that battle hiding under the specially reinforced counter; the counter was required by ordinance in the supervillain - and some would say superhero - plagued New Rack City. When she emerged, the counter was the only thing left standing.

The owners of the coffee shop had elected not to rebuild; it was the third time in two years the place had been wrecked, so she figured that was understandable. They moved to Florida, opting to take their chances with hurricanes instead of mad scientists and overpowered caped do-gooders.

That had left Felicity unemployed. She did get two weeks of full pay from the League of Mostly Good Guys and Anti-Heroes, as their usual part of a deal with the city for the destruction caused. She'd already known how to apply, since her previous job as a cashier at a food stand on the wharf had been eliminated by one of the frequent battles between Waverunner and Mistress Squid. Rumor had it that the Navy was trying to have the lithe little blonde Waverunner arrested because she'd refused to kill Mistress Squid when she had the chance.

More useful to Felicity was the Evil Outreach Placement service - known as the EOP - that contacted her shortly after the coffee shop's demise.

Supervillains tended to run through henchmen and henchwomen at an alarming rate, so the EOP was more than a little aggressive about recruiting. All Felicity had had to do was take the EOP's simple placement exam to determine her abilities and interests, known widely as the "Skills and Thrills" test.

The test had simple questions like "Would you rather: A. Freeze B. Be Electrocuted C. Be Turned into a cyborg D. Orgasm for an entire day" and "Rate these Movies in order: The Terminator, The Exorcist, The Invasion of the Bodysnatchers, Vixen Dominatrixes from Venus Unchained Part Three."

While Felicity's scores in Thuggery, Explosives, and Ray Gun Maintenance were too low for her to be an actual leg-breaking mook, her Wenchery, General Yumminess, and Bimbo scores were pretty damned good, and she was offered two actual full henchwench positions. One of the henchwench positions was with Arctic Blast, Felicity considered it briefly, but asked herself what was the point of having a really nice bubble butt if it was covered with a parka all the time? The other position was with the Gelatinous Eunuch, and that was just, well...a not-so-hard no.

A girl had to have standards.

That had left the position as an Evil LaBORatories assistant laboratory tech, which came with the benefit of not directly facing the rampaging heroes who tended to leave a lot of henchmen and henchwomen ready for medical retirement. The facility was more or less off-limits to heroes, since there were at least twenty or thirty Mad Science projects underway there at all times; a mistake could unleash a torrent of monsters, robots, monster robots and robot monsters on the city, and that was without considering the various poisonous, hallucinogenic, mind-altering, body-altering chemicals that could get out.

She looked around to make sure all the cages were locked; all the robots were powered down and the windows closed. She'd learned her lesson when Dr. Vera Orgazma had accidentally left her giant Dildo-Bot of Doom on standby. After that experience, Felicity had learned to be more careful, although it had taken almost three months of accidentally triggering the dildo-bot's "attack" mode night after night. Felicity even came into the lab on most of her nights off to get accidentally attacked. Unfortunately, after three months, Dr. Orgazma had taken the silicone-coated and "ribbed for her pleasure" monster robot back to her own lair with her "for further testing," so the attacks had ended.

On the bright side, for a while Doctor Orgazma had become so relaxed she hardly ever tortured henchmen and minions at all anymore.

As usual, the Evil Lab lab was pretty much spotless. Mad Scientists didn't last very long if they didn't keep very, very clean workspaces. Felicity's main purpose was to walk around, neaten up things up and dodge the numerous panty-seeking tentacles snatching at her from the cages lining the walls. She actually had a hefty uniform stipend to cover ripped microskirts, torn low-cut blouses, and stolen panties. Curiously, there was specifically no money allocated for replacement bras, so Felicity had simply stopped wearing them, letting her perky little B-cups bounce around uncaged. Who would notice after all?

Other than the occasional curious tentacles and the many - 193 to be precise - video recording systems in the lab, that is. On a vague level, Felicity recognized that one of her primary reasons for being hired was as a decorative addition, to at least to partly break up the sheer monotony of the camera feeds.

Spare lab coats hung in a neat row by the exit just in case she got too close to the cages and had all her clothes ripped from her body. That happened on a pretty regular basis, probably three nights in five.

It wasn't even really annoying; more than a bit of an exhibitionist, she kind of liked riding home mostly naked and she also got to go clothes shopping all the time.

As she rounded a corner and looked back at the cages, she found a small vial of shattered glass on the floor; she wondered for a moment if her rather awesome bubble butt had brushed something off the counter.

She sighed, then smiled. She actually got to clean something. At least it looked like the glass container had been empty. She grabbed her whisk broom and pan and a short while later she dumped the broken glass into the trash and shrugged. It could have been worse.

Looking at the label that had been on the glass, she shrugged again. Mutagenic Nanite Swarm #9. Whatever that was. She stuffed the label in her lab coat pocket.

Her phone pinged and she checked it. The boss - whoever it was - tended to send her extra tasks via text message. She read it and smiled broadly. The text informed her that she'd been awarded the next eight nights off with pay as a bonus for her conscientious work.

Just as she was getting ready to leave, she felt something pop at her chest and she looked down. All the buttons on her low-cut blouse instantly popped loose and rained down on the floor. She got on all fours and picked up the buttons hurriedly, then froze and wiggled. Something was definitely different. She wiggled again, looking down at her boobs. She frantically pushed the unbuttoned her lab coat open and examined herself. She'd had cute and very perky little B-cup titties when she had left her apartment, she was absolutely sure of that. She hefted one newly massive breast in her hand, then hefted both at once. These weren't titties; they weren't just tits, or even jugs; they appeared to be at least juggs or maybe even gazongas. Possibly bazooms.

These were at least F-cups, maybe even G-cups.

One finger flipped over a hardening nipple and she nearly collapsed. REALLY sensitive G-cups. She flicked her other nipple, feeling an electric shock race right to her kitty.

Wow.

Okay. They seemed really, really excitable.

Felicity had to be sure, so she very deliberately flicked both nipples at once. This time, she did collapse in wide-eyed shock to the floor. She reluctantly but firmly pulled her hands away from her very, very delightfully sensitive new set of bass bongos.

She had to concentrate. She pulled her lab coat closed over the massive mammaries, then buttoned it, gritting her teeth against the nearly overwhelming urge to just give them one more good flick. She managed to do it by promising herself she would give them lots and lots of good flicks as soon as she got home. The cloth of the lab coat stretched tight, rubbing the now rigid nipples in a really, really distracting way.

She managed to stand, stuffed her buttons in her pocket, and stumbled toward the door. She wasn't paying very close attention to everything around her and a set of warm, almost hot, neon-pink tentacles with delightful nubby dots running down them managed to snag her panties right off of her, along with her mini skirt AND her buttonless top, right out from under the lab coat. She was never quite sure how they managed that, it seemed like it should be impossible. At least she still had her lab coat, tight as it was. She figured it probably mostly covered her (lovely) bubble butt, even if it was straining to contain her enormous new sweater kittens.

She locked up the lab and dashed for her car, feeling the cool night air on her buns. The top two buttons on her lab coat gave up the fight against the sheer bounce of her brand-new pump-me pumpkins and went sailing out into the night. The car seemed marginally better. As she pulled the car out, Felicity felt herself overheating and reached over to turn on the air conditioner; her swelling warheads finally grew a last bit, reaching J-cup size and incidentally popping the remaining buttons on her lab coat, sending them zinging frenetically around the inside of her car as her coat burst open.

Her nipples hardened achingly in the cold rush of air, sending a hot moist rush right to her already throbbing wet kitty.

With more than a flicker of regretful nostalgia over the missing Dildo-bot, Felicity looked down at her mostly bare bazooms, and was instantly reminded that she needed to pick up some milk on the way home. Milk and chocolate sandwich cookies were her favorite pre-bed time snack. Actually, that would be her second favorite, but right now she was boringly between boyfriends. Well, if she was actually between boyfriends, she wouldn't be bored at all and she'd be getting two helpings of her first favorite snack...

Oh yeah. She glanced down at her new bounce-house sized fun bags.

Milk.

She saw the Snak-Mart gas station coming up. She stopped at the station all the time. It was pretty much empty, only one cashier and one stock boy at this hour, and that was probably one and a half more people than were strictly necessary.

Felicity looked down at her lab coat. If she held the coat really tight, she should be able to get in, get her milk and get out quickly enough...

Unbeknownst to her - Felicity didn't even know what 'unbeknownst' meant, so doubly unbeknownst - she was being watched on a set of several large monitors by a shadowy figure.

The figure reached over and turned on a desk lamp and became not-so shadowy. Dr. Vera Orgazma picked up her recorder microphone. "Subject is on the move, cyberbugs are tracking and recording. I am looking forward to seeing the results of this experiment."

The Were-Nympho's Prey: Larry and Giselle

Giselle the Goth sat at the Snak-Mart counter, finishing her last nail in "Death Shines Blackly" nail polish, then slowly put the little bottle top back on.

This was the most boring job on the planet.

In the last year of late night shifts, she'd had thirteen customers, and exchanged maybe twenty words with Larry the Loser, the late night stock boy who was listlessly mopping aisle two of four in front of her. He was boring. The banal muzac that played endlessly was boring. The flickering fluorescent lights were boring.

Life was an endless dull gray sea of ennui.

The bell sounded as the entrance door popped open and a woman rushed between her and Larry. Giselle jerked back startled. The woman was in some kind of short white bathrobe or something and Giselle had a vague impression of long blonde hair and...Giselle blinked for a second and shook her head. That had to be the biggest set of tits she'd ever seen outside of the hentai porn she sometimes (okay, daily) watched when she flicked her bean.

She turned to stare after the woman and saw a flapping white lab coat that came up well short of covering a joyfully bouncing bare naked bubble butt.

She heard a sharp clatter and looked up to see Larry's mop on the floor as he staggered forward shaking his head and blinking his eyes.

Then the scent hit her.

--

If Felicity had actually read the incredibly small print on the label she'd stuffed in her pocket, she might have noticed the list of side effects in even tinier print, and on it, between "Extreme sexual excitement and aggressiveness" and "Ridiculous levels of Squirt-i-liciousness." She also might have seen "Excessive production of airborne sexual attractant pheromones and production of focused mutagenic nanites."

Whether Felicity would have realized what that meant had she read it is an open question. She was, after all, insanely horny and that is quite distracting. She also wasn't exactly sure what a pheromone was, but kind of thought it was a sound you made during really scary but awesome sex. All of that was quite beside the point, since the label was sitting unread and forgotten in her lab coat pocket.

Felicity reached the coolers in the back of the store and looked at the rows of milk jugs for a moment before pulling the door open.

The cold air washed up her bare skin and Felicity felt her already-achingly-hard nipples crinkle and stretch, into what felt like absolutely decadent towers of diamond-hard lust. The throbbing hunger between her legs raged into a crazed desire for...

Anything.

She wanted...no, she needed...to fuck someone. Anyone.

She staggered back and saw two figures approaching her. A skinny girl with black hair in long pigtails, dark red lipstick edged in black, and black nails wearing a white schoolgirl shirt and black tie with a black-and-green plaid miniskirt, and black and white striped stockings was on one side of the aisle; a tall lanky guy with a badly tied blue tie on a stained sort-of white dress shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers, wearing a name tag that declared him to be "Larry" was on the other side.

Both were staring at her with hungry glazed eyes and slightly open, panting mouths.

The air shifted and she could smell their arousal. Felicity growled deep in her throat as the nanites finished turning her into a full-blown predatory Were-Nympho.

She could smell the girl's soaking wet pussy, and she could see the pulsing heat of the guy's aching hard on through his jeans. He was already fumbling with his belt, so she let him alone. The girl started to stumble to a stop, trying to figure out what was going on.

No way was Felicity going to let that happen. She reached out and grabbed the Goth girl with lust-powered strength, easily stripped off her miniskirt, then shredded the black "spank me" panties right off of her, exposing a very cute little round butt and a very wet, nearly hairless, little quim.

Larry was still stumbling out of his jeans, boxers and sneakers while tearing his shirt off, but that didn't stop him from latching on to one of Felicity's huge tits, and sucking like his life depended on it.

Felicity moaned. Fuck that felt amazing. She gripped Gothgirl's pigtails and forced those black-lined blood red lips onto her other nipple. Gothgirl immediately started sucking like a hungry little piglet.

Fuck fuck fuck.

A series of small orgasms rippled through Felicity.

Felicity sank slowly to her knees, dragging her two victims down with her to the floor. She reached down and felt between them until she managed to find Larry's raging hard-on.

It was fucking enormous.

The mutational power of Felicity's nanites had turned Larry the loser's cock from an average-in-every-way normal dick to a huge, nearly foot-long angry trouser python. Happily for Larry, the fine print on the still unread label warned that the physical mutations triggered by the mutagenic nanites were permanent.

Regretfully, Felicity pried Larry's mouth from her massive marshmallow, and forced him down onto his back, his engorged cock pointing to the ceiling.

Drunk on the sexual energy and power, she grabbed the little Goth bitch's pigtails again and pulled her up for a moment of deep tongue kissing before yanking her lust-dazed face up to her own, nose-to-nose.

"You see that horse cock?"

The girl pantingly mewled in a half-frightened, half-excited tone and nodded frantically.

Felicity grinned. "I want to see you suck that big dick all the way to the root."

Giselle the Goth shook her head for a second but the Were-Nympho gripped her hair harder and forced her down toward the huge monster. "I wasn't asking, you little slut. Suck it. All the way down."

After a moment of rather-obviously-token resistance, Giselle took a deep breath and began working on the massive piece of meat. She desperately wanted to do it anyway. She was literally drooling like a waterfall at the thought of taking the monster sausage in her mouth.

Less than half of the giant pole would have easily been more than enough to choke her unconscious on a normal day. But this was no normal day and even her, thus far brief, exposure to Felicity's mutating nanites and pheromones had made changes to Giselle as well as Larry. Giselle, once a somewhat normal twenty year old, now had no gag reflex, endless saliva and a near uncontrollable craving for sex in any form.

Felicity whispered in her ear as Giselle got her lips stretched wide and began her long journey down the battering ram.

"That's it, Fuckpuppy, suck that big cock. Take it all in like the little whore you are."

Normally, Giselle would have been absolutely outraged to be called a whore, or slut; she'd never even considered that anyone would ever call her 'Fuckpuppy' before, but she'd have probably hated it. Normally, she'd have exploded in self-righteous rage. But she wasn't really feeling normal, and besides, while Felicity was calling her nasty names, she was doing even nastier things to her. She'd ripped Giselle's shirt and bra off with ease and was pinching and tweaking Giselle's nipples in a way that should have hurt, but didn't, and only made her hornier. Felicity was also rubbing her huge fuck-pillow tits all over Giselle's bare back, which made Giselle drip with lust.

Giselle instinctively understood the way she had changed and began to devour her way down the ridiculous still-growing meatpipe, from tip to base, letting her saliva flow down onto his swollen balls.

"Fuck yes. That's how you give head. That's a good girl, and good girls get rewards." Felicity nipped her ear, then began fingering Giselle's drenched twat with one hand.

Giselle moaned at the penetration; first one finger, then two, then three, then four...a small quake of fear passed through her as she realized that Felicity was going to fist her little pussy.