The Lewd Age of Superheroes Pt. 05

Where I write a cuckold story. Except it's not really a cuckold story. Um. Just read it.

All characters involved in sexual situations are eighteen and over.

***

Two ex-lovers eyed each other warily across a pier.

Barrow Witch spoke first. "You've gotten older."

"You look the same."

That brought something close to a smile to her face. "The advantages of being the avatar of the gods of enlightenment."

"The gods of madness, you mean."

She sighed and looked away. "Nathan. We've talked about this. What you and your master did was unnatural."

"Saving the earth isn't unnatural."

"The age of sanity is over, Nathan. The stars were right centuries ago. Denying the age of madness disturbs the cosmic cycle."

"It would bring about untold suffering and destruction!"

"In exchange for cosmic enlightenment and transformation!"

"Madness and mutation!"

"That's just what that immortal homewrecker told you!" Barrow Witch shut her mouth and straightened up. "I mean, you have been let astray by false heroes."

"Um," said Grey Apprentice, desperately wishing she was somewhere else, "shouldn't we be dealing with the sex plague?"

"Right."

"Yes."

"Of course." Grey Sentinel explained what he had learned while Barrow Witch listened.

"Well," she said, "this needs to be stopped, if only because it would interfere with my masters' plans." She frowned. "It would seem that they are the key to solving this issue." She caught his expression. "Oh, don't look so shocked. You must have realised that your powers are keeping you safe from the infection."

"Hmmm." Grey Sentinel scowled.

"I will consult my dark masters as to how to end the infection. Let us meet here in a week's time."

"We might not have a week, Amanda."

She shook her head. "You know full well that the Enlightened One's perception of time is...different."

"What do we do until then?" said Grey Apprentice.

"Endure. Contain. And beware of Mocking Mistress! She seeks to use the infection for her own devious ends."

***

Mocking Mistress lay back on the bed. She was naked, other than her mask.

Pet lay curled alongside her, the girl's hands gently stroking, fondling, touching, as the two watched a screen. On it, Pet was being brutally fucked by a half-dozen men, the men using her body for their pleasure.

"I could watch it forever." Mocking said.

"Why stop at watching?" Pet murmured. Her hand reached up and touched the diamond-encrusted collar around her neck. "I love being your whore. I love fucking whom you tell me to fuck, doing whatever you can think of, but..."

"What is it, my little Pet?"

Pet smiled and murmured something into her ear. Mistress shuddered. "I couldn't."

"You can do whatever you want, Mistress."

There was a chime from her personal communicator. It had been doing that a lot lately. Wasn't there something she should be doing?

It wasn't important.

Mistress listened as Pet whispered hot, needy suggestions into her ear while her hands worked their magic on her body.

***

Nathan flew over Epoch City.

Past the Tower, past the central district with its futuristic skyscrapers; past the industrial zone, with its high-tech marvels. Past the east-side, with its slums and decrepit regions. Past the suburbs.

Out further, to the ruins of a mansion, old and long-burnt.

He slowed, flying over the bramble-laced, weed-infested garden, and eased himself down next to a pair of immaculate graves.

He contemplated the pair for a long time. Eventually he spoke.

"There's a new threat. A new challenge for us to face. A new possible end of the world."

He took in a deep breath and looked around.

"I wonder, sometimes, if this is what you really wanted for me. When you investigated the dark dimension, when you went on that expedition. I guess it doesn't matter.

I remember when I found out you died. When you were murdered. It was some bad years. The doctors, the asylum...if Master hadn't come along, I think I would be lying next to you, now. Same with Endless. She worries about me. They all do.

They think I'm doing this because I'm angry. Well. I am angry. But it's not the reason I'm doing this. It's something...like I said. I remember when you died. And you know what it was that really broke me? It wasn't the grief. It wasn't the anger. Those were things that could pass. No."

He nodded to himself. "I just remember thinking...this isn't the way the world should be. Children shouldn't lose their parents like that. Not me, not anyone. It was like someone had pointed out a glaring crack in the world, so large and so terrible that everyone just ignored it, for risk of going mad contemplating it. Not some ravening hoard of mad gods or alien conquering empire or mind-altering plague, but just...an unkind world.

I know I can never fix the world. Make it a place where children don't suffer, where people don't die cruelly and early, but I just...I can't look away. I won't. And I think I'll get a little good done, trying to do the impossible. To make a kinder world. For as long as I can."

He smiled sadly. "Thanks for listening to me again. I know I come here way too often. I'll bring Tanya one of these days. She's a terrible Apprentice, mind." He chuckled. "I know you probably expected me to have children by now...I guess...she's the closest I'll get."

He vanished into the night, leaving the pair of graves behind.

***

Trevor Summerson, aka Brightblade, sat in the dark of his modest apartment.

A tumbler lay forgotten on the coffee table in front of him. A bottle of whiskey- mostly emptied- sat next to it, decidedly less forgotten. A tablet lay balanced on the screen in front of him. His breaths came out in low, agonised huffs.

He reached out and, with a shaking hand, touched the play button again.

The images on the screen leapt to life, the scene playing out in front of him.

"Oh! Johnny!"

Fresh tears streaked down his face anew, tracking down well-worn paths on his black skin as he listened to her voice.

His wife. His love. His soulmate.

"Fuck me harder!"

The video trailed over his wife's buxom body, her pale skin, her long, blonde hair. Johnny's voice, cold and mocking.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You! I belong to you!"

Too much. Even as the camera panned up, across the pale-skinned freak's chiselled torso, up his tattooed chest, to his sharp-featured face, to his smug, cruel eyes-

His hand twitched and slapped at the pause button. He took a deep, shuddering breath and closed his eyes.

Noises. The front door opening. For a moment hope bloomed in his eyes, but the door opened and Imani stepped into his apartment. She took in the scene for a long moment before murmuring, "Turn that shit off."

"I can't."

"Bad enough that's on the internet, along with that gay orgy footage. Watching it isn't going to help you any."

"I-" He reached across to press the play button again but with quick, deft movements she swept the tablet away. He looked up at her blearily. "How's Kiara?"

"Kiara is..." Imani paused. "She's fine. Enjoying time with her auntie and her cousins. Tate's looking after her right now, and I'm looking after you."

"How the hell do I explain..." he gestured to the screen. "All of this to her? To my daughter?"

"She's one and a half. You don't for now." His sister sat down next to him. "What are you going to do? I mean, besides wallow in pity?"

Silence. Imani kept on talking. "Look, if what you told me is true...if there's some sort of sex plague that's affecting heroes...you understand, this isn't really her, right?"

"Yeah."

"Beacon...Emma...she's always been faithful. Always made it clear that she loves you. Whatever this curse is that's affecting her- it can't be more real than your love for each other. That wannabe rockstar necromancer is just using this stupid curse power to fuck with you." She rose. "Sober up, okay? And then get your wife back."

Trevor slowly nodded his head. "You're right."

"Now get to bed. And go kick some ass in the morning."

***

The boy couldn't have been more than seventeen. He looked up at Brightblade, the namesake weapon pressed against his throat, and laughed through broken teeth.

"We don't know where he is," he said, blood spraying with every word, "and even if we did, we wouldn't tell you, Brightcuck."

Brightblade shoved the boy onto the floor and looked around at the shattered remnants of the cultist hideout. His sixth assault in four days. All brutal victories over the petty sorcerers and criminals that made up the bottom feeders of Johnny Dreadlord's organisation.

Nothing. No leads. No luck.

And a new video released every day, put out onto the internet.

His blade flared with pale light, sensing his rage, his mounting frustration.

He turned back to the cultist, still grinning that worthless, stupid, mocking grin. "Then what good are you?"

He raised the blade and-

"That won't work."

The voice was a low purr that seemed to spill out of the shadows. Dropping the worthless little boy, Brightblade slowly turned, eyeing the shadows of the room. The voice continued, "He's cut ties. Gone somewhere safe. While he...indulges himself."

Brightblade gripped his weapon with such ferocity that he thought his fingers might break. "Noxia. Come to gloat?"

"No." The voice wasn't mocking. It wasn't smug. It was colder than frost, sharper than a drawn blade. "No, I'm not here to gloat."

Johnny's right-hand minion emerged from the shadows in the flicker of an eye. Her long black cascading hair was in disarray, and her bone-pale face was blotchy from tears. "No, I'm here for revenge, white knight. Care to join me?"

Brightblade didn't move. "Why revenge? I thought you'd be beside your master, gloating in his victory."

"His victory." She spat the words. "For years I served him, conjuring undead horrors at his command. Performing rites to his Patron, the Lady of the Dead. I believed him when he said it was all to bring back his long-dead wife, to resurrect his old kingdom, and..." She took in a long, shuddering breath. "I was loyal, I was dedicated, I was his if he ever wanted..." she looked away. "The moment that blonde bitch showed up...he just abandoned me, do you understand? Just like I was worthless trash." She stepped forward. "I want revenge. As badly as you do, white knight. Maybe more."

Brightblade looked into her dark eyes and slowly, inch by inch, lowered his blade. He felt the world shiver around him.

He said, "How do you intend to draw him out?"

"He is a vain and self-absorbed creature. Always has been. So we humiliate him."

"And how," said Brightblade, "do we do that?"

Noxia smiled.

***

Johnny Dreadlord lay back on his throne of bone and darkness and smiled. Between his legs, the beloved of his worst enemy serviced his cock, eyes submissively lowered.

The plan had worked beyond his wildest dreams. For years, the pair of lovers had thwarted his attempts to bring back his dead wife; had prevented his attempts to resurrect his old kingdom and conjure his dread goddess into this plane of existence. They had left him with irreparable scars, ruined plans, and above all...

They'd humiliated him.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

He looked down at the once-mighty Beacon, priestess of light, and tugged gently on the chain that led to the collar around her neck. She eased her mouth off his length and smiled the smile of a docile, happy little slave. "What is it, my King?"

"Your worthless husband has been harassing my cult," he said. "What do you think of that?"

She shook her head. "I-" she frowned. "I don't care about him anymore."

He frowned. "I intend to bring back my lost kingdom, slut. And my queen. Maybe when I do, you can service us both."

She shivered and smiled. "I would adore that, my King."

His frown deepened. "But before I do- I intend to deal your worthless husband first." He tugged on her chain once more and she dutifully set above pleasuring his cock with her tongue, her hands, her sweet red lips. "You belong to me, don't you?

She nodded, eyes flashing with warmth.

"You don't care about him, do you?"

She shook her head a little with his cock lodged in her lips, while her hands stroked her nipples.

"Then you don't mind helping me to kill him, do you?"

She froze.

Slowly she slid her lips off his cock and murmured, "You don't need to kill him. Humiliating him like this hurts him more."

"True," he said. "But he is still a nuisance. And I worry..." he shuddered. "That man..." His grip on her face tightened. "How many of my plots did he stop? How many times did he make sure that I'd never see my queen, my people, my land again?" He released her face. "Years of plans and effort, all worthless. Wasted because of him."

She eyed him. "You truly hate him that much?"

He nodded slowly. "That's why it had to- had to be you. No-one else could claim you, not Grendlekin, not Mocking Mistress, not the others! I needed to show him how worthless he was by turning his wife into my personal slut. I needed to make him understand he was worthless. That he was pathetic. That he-"

His phone chimed. An attachment from Noxia. He opened it and his eyes went wide.

He roared with rage, "He's fucking my henchwoman!"

***

"Heya Johnny." Noxia smiled at the camera, dark eyes smouldering. "I just thought I might give you an update."

She stepped back slowly, revealing long dark hair spilling over a pale, curved body. She slid her hands down her form. "I found your hero. And we had a little talk. And guess what?"

Trevor stepped into view of the camera, his dark, muscular body on display. He came up behind her and she giggled as his long cock pressed against her ass. "It turns out that Brightblade here? Is a real man."

She leant back against her boss's archenemy's tall, broad form and looked up into his eyes as he smiled for the camera. His hands slid over her breasts and she groaned while he said, "I can't believe you let a piece of ass like this go. But I guess a worthless little shit like you couldn't handle her, could you?"

She sighed and writhed against him, one hand dipping towards her legs. "Oh, poor little Jack. Want to know how many times he made me cum? God, I can't believe I actually crushed on a loser like you, when this perfect man was here all along, with his nice big..." One of her hands reached back to lovingly cup his erection. "So now..."

Brightblade abruptly pushed her down and forward. She fell to her hands and knees as he lined himself up behind her. She arched her back and moaned again as he eased her length into cunt and savagely fucked her.

As she screamed and bucked beneath him, he addressed the camera. "She's already told me about all your little hideouts. I'm going to find you, break your spine and then remind my wife about what a real man is. Maybe I'll let you live after that, crippled and humiliated- all because you couldn't keep your women satisfied."

He reached down and grabbed a fistful of Noxia's hair and began to rut her like a beast. He said to her, "that good for you?"

Eyes rolling, mouth open, she managed to stammer, "A-a couple-oh! -a couple more takes!"

***

Johnny roared, the phone shattering against the wall. "How dare he!" He turned to Beacon. "How dare he take what belongs to me!"

Beacon murmured, "It doesn't matter, my King. You know you're more man than him. You proved it with me."

"I-" Johnny paused. "No. He took from me, don't you see? He humiliated me." Dark energies pulsed around him. "He. Must. Die."

"My King."

Johnny look down to see Beacon's hands slowly jacking his cock. The blonde stared up at him, smiling. "I have a much better idea."

***

Imani opened her bedroom door. Emma stood outside, dressed in an overcoat, tears in her eyes.

The dark-skinned woman's eyes widened in shock and then narrowed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Emma reached over and clutched her hand. "I know you've seen all the awful videos! I know what you must think! But please, let me explain what happened to you!"

Imani nearly shut the door in her face. But she paused.

The sex curse, the effect that everyone was talking about...maybe it had run its course? Maybe Emma had been coerced or mind controlled.

This could be her chance to help her brother.

She opened the door, scowling, and let the blonde woman in. "Fine. But you'd better have a damn good explanation."

"I do."

"Well?" Imani asked.

She looked down. Mist was rolling into the room, seemingly from nowhere. She heard the door shut behind her.

She turned, to see a man appearing out of the mist- tall, bare-chested, pale skinned and with a dread crown atop his head.

She turned back to Emma, who'd shucked off her coat to reveal her naked body beneath.

"Actually," said Emma, "Why don't I just show you?"

***

"It's okay, baby."

Trevor stared at the video images. His wife and his sister, both on their knees. Both taking the time to slowly lick at Johnny's cock. The two girls smiled at each other as they pleasured their master with their mouths as their hands roamed over each other's bodies.

Trevor turned off the video feed. Noxia pressed against his back, her pale hands circling around his chest.

She murmured, "We'll get your sister back. We'll get them both back."

"How?" He'd allowed himself to get distracted, he realised. He'd spent the last few days 'humiliating Johnny' with Noxia instead of following up on his leads. Making the buxom necromancer scream his name had felt like a victory against the pale monster who had his wife.

Who now had his sister.

He had to do something. Had to respond.

"I'm going to kill him."

"I have," said the raven-haired cultist cuddling against him, "a much better idea."

***

The last of the tomb guardians fell, cleaved in two by the shining sword. The other had already been overwhelmed by their undead brethren, who had been turned into allies of the invaders with deft spells. Brightblade turned to Noxia. "You knew where this place was all along?"

She nodded. "Found out a couple of years ago on a solo mission."

"Why didn't you say anything? We could have been knee-deep in the apocalypse."

"Ah. Well..." she looked away. "I didn't want him to reunite with her. I was hung up on him at the time, and..." she wrung her hands. "I know better now. He's nothing like you, baby."

Brightblade grunted and walked towards the final chamber. A symbol of Syvith, Lady of the Dead, hung above. And inside...

A pale woman with honey blonde hair, lying inside a casket. Her features were heart-melting; her sleeping poise regal.

"We can really disturb her cursed slumber?"

"Between my arts and your miracles..."

Trevor began to unbuckle his armour. "Time to wake up, Mrs. Dreadlord."

***

Maena, Queen of the Damned and wife of the Dreadlord, stirred in her lonely tomb.

Breath rushed into her lungs for the first time in a century. Blood flowed once more in her veins. Her eyes opened.

"At last," she whispered, "my love. You have restored me to life. I-"

A chuckle, deep and masculine. She opened her eyes to see-

A man and a woman- dark-skinned and pale-skinned respectively- standing over her. Both naked. Both grinning.

"You are not my husband!"

"No," said the man as he reached towards her, "but I don't think you're going to mind..."

"I-no! Keep your hands off me!"

***

"Oh, breed me you magnificent black stallion!"

Johnny fought back a sob. Beacon and Imani pressed their bodies against his in sympathy as they watched the footage.

"That's it! Fuck a baby into me, like Johnny never could!" The Queen of the Damned bounced atop his worst enemy's cock, slutty words spilling out of her elegant lips. "Use me as your breeding bitch!"