The Sensational Sparklechick

Author's Note:

Beforehand, for this one I must clarify: I do not support American imperialism whatsoever. Nor do I support misogyny; intersectionality all the way baby. So maybe I shouldn't be throwing more misogynistic sexual fantasies into the cultural consciousness. But whatever, I'll be more moral at some point. Just please don't fucking rape people. Even if it's hot in hypotheticals, it's a disturbing and horrifying thing to do girl. Fuck imperialism too, and hell, fuck America. Thank you.

*********

In the fiery rubble of the Ovale Office, stood Energia, the most powerful superheroine to ever grace the face of the Earth.

Searing a high-intensity laser through the White Manor and invading at jetspeed into the building had left it reduced to burning wood, smoke, and rubble. The white-purple satin which usually fluttered decoratively off of her skimpy armor (skimpiness which her energy powers, of course, conveniently required~) burnt clean off, and her helmet shattered off, as well-- though her face remained spotless as usual, her perfect blonde hair flicking in front of her eyes.

Without much fret, she noticed the machine-gun-caliber fire suddenly and harmlessly rebounding off her back and her sides. The bullets weren't even crushed or dented; they somehow remained intact, though, of interest to you more lascivious readers, they most definitely bounced off of her more-uncovered, plump bits, which made the fat of her figure, jiggle around lusciously-- thighs, ass, overboobs and all.

Without breaking a sweat, Energia raised her hand at the helicopter approaching behind her responsible for the attack, and a streak of lightning-- ungodly-thunderstorm, volcanic-ash-cloud-crimson-type lightning-- tore through the hull, the soldiers, the rotor blades, leaving it all scorched, glowing, and soaring towards its fiery demise.

She turned her attention impatiently back to the hallway exit of the Ovular Office.

"I'm done being your LACKEY," her voice boomed, like a thunderclap mere yards away, shattering glass and making the floorboards tremble. Her eyes fizzing with azure radiation, she spotted the Prime Executive running down the hallway and taking cover with his armored Deathsquad bodyguards behind him. "No more 'country.' No more 'International Superpowers'. Just me. Above everyone, and everything." The flames of the rubble around her began to encircle her, drawing around and into her skin, making her veins boil and shine white. Suddenly, in a single bound which burst the remaining office floor into shrapnel beneath her, she launched like a rocket through the hallway towards the Prime Executive, blasting him into an open auditorium while blasting the Deathsquad guards into the hallway walls beside her. She snapped one's neck with the lightest push of her fingers. The other shot his assault rifle at her back, again, to no effect; in fact, the vibrations seemed to resonate into her skin, as if she was absorbing the energy of the bullet impacts. She turned to the second guard, and blew on him. The air from her mouth visibly quivered and melted like the horizon of a desert heatwave, blackening the guard's suit as he was incinerated inside.

She landed in the auditorium, right before the Prime Executive, who glared at her in horror. "You won't survive a WEEK after you've killed me," he growled, furiously. "How many nuclear blasts can a bitch like you take before you crack? You think you're stronger than the United-GODDAMN-Empires of Vespucia?"

"Do you seriously not? I've slaughtered un-killable eldritch beasts, and immortal men. I'll beat your pathetic circlejerk of a country into submission. Promise," she snarked, raising her glowing hand at him.

"So you can do WHAT?" he yelled in an impassioned tone, his survival instincts kicking in. "Who's next after us? GOD?"

He seemed to have struck a chord, because Energia grinned with crazed ambition. "YES EXACTLY! I'LL MAKE GOD FUCKING KNEE--"

Suddenly, she felt a perfectly aimed pellet slide down her throat. She had the ability to absorb all energy-- heat, impacts, vibration, electricity, radiation, light. But she couldn't do anything about the pressurized gas pellet that was just sniped into her stomach. Her eyes widened, and she shoved her fingers down her throat to make herself vomit, but it was too late and the pellet exploded, filling her lungs with an incapacitating, anesthetic gas. She scowled with hate down at the Prime Executive, and in a final spiteful effort, raised a hand and blasted him with radiation-- before her vision went black and she collapsed backwards during the movement.

The Prime Executive heaved through his injury, and glared at the superheroine. She was fucking finished.

*********

Energia's eyes weakly fluttered open, as she felt an uncomfortable surge of wakefulness fill her mind. A bright, warm light filled her vision-- the light of orange, homely lamps. She was on a hard, wooden surface, that was for sure. As her surroundings solidified, she became increasingly aware of the discomfort she was in. She was cold, in the way the air conditioning in a government building is-- however, especially so because she could feel the air on her skin. Her limbs felt tired, constrained, tight at the joints. Her gaze was angled down towards her prone body as her vision focused; suddenly her eyelids shot open and her sight finished clearing much more rapidly. The damn air was brisk because, as far as she could tell, she had nothing to cover her but a bikini-- nothing in terms of real clothes. That is, except for white leather binds around her arms and legs, keeping them bent in; they bound her hands up to her shoulders and her feet against her ass, leaving her unable to move, except by crawling on her elbows and knees.

"What in the goddamn hell?!" The woman raised her gaze and immediately blushed, as the compromising situation she'd found herself in was on exhibit for a room full of well-dressed, middle-aged men-- high-ranking government officials, by the look of the badges and ranks decorating their shoulders and chests. And more mortifying, she immediately realized that she hadn't said what she thought she had.

"Arough?" All she'd accomplished was howling a puppy noise, and in the undertones of her voice, was the sultry timbre of a moan seamlessly blended in, as well. The nuance of the sound she'd just made-- an involuntary sound from her attempt at speech, mind you--was astounding. "WHAT IS THIS?!" she tried to exclaim indignantly, in a panic.

"Rrruff!" All she managed was a fussy and semi-loud yip, an octave higher than she'd usually hold her voice. Her face turned bright red, as the boardroom of high-ranking government officials began to laugh. Worse, without her intending it, her body started moving. It groggily lifted itself onto all-fours on this wooden conference table. As it did, she got a chance to take a better look at whatever she was wearing-- and her heart stopped at the sight of the mortifying attire: she had tight against her body, a skimpy, tight, white one-piece g-string monokini squeezed her; it had no nipples on the miniscule triangular cups (hell, the cups themselves were the size of pool balls, max, despite her overflowing cleavage), but instead bore bone-shaped cutouts adorned on each breast, letting her perky pink nipples freely poke out of the puppy-themed holes; the bikini ran indecently tight, down between her asscheeks and back up, leaving nothing to the imagination as it rested wedged between her newly shaved pussy lips. She'd been fucking SHAVED. And looking down at her crotch, she noticed that the horror didn't end there; right on her perfectly smooth-- and slightly reddened-- pubic area, was a tattoo that read, in strong, bold letters, "PROPERTY OF THE U.E. GOVT." And lying right below, was the worst of it all: a series of studded piercings had been clipped on each of her outer labia. These, together, attached to a stainless steel zipper, zipped up to keep her pussy lips shut-- and the zipper pull was locked onto a ring which hung off another brand new piercing-- one on her clit. So without whichever key locking her zipped-up cunt shut, she couldn't be unzipped.

"FUCKING HELL, WHAT--?" -- or more accurately, the woman spit out a pathetic puppy whine, "Arou, mmmmm...!" Her private parts had been toyed with, her body was under someone else's control, and her voice sounded ridiculous and cute. But more invasive than any of these, was the feeling she was beginning to notice in her own mind. She sensed her own rage being pacified, she could feel the flow of calming neurochemicals in her bloodstream, in her head. She was being made forcibly docile, and she wanted to be even more pissed about it-- but at this point, that was easier said than done.

"It's your spinal implant, Sparklechick."

That voice cominng from behind her sparked dread in her heart. It was the Prime Executive's voice, and he was addressing her; what the HELL did he just call her? Wait-- SPINAL IMPLANT? She felt a condescending pat on her round left asscheek, and, as if in cue, a wave of sleepiness overtook her and pushed her into a full body yawn: as if stretching, she transitioned from 'standing' on her elbows and knees, to pressing her g-stringed breasts against the hardwood table, and lazily wagging her wide ass back and forth in the air behind her. And, of course, that meant the Prime Executive, who was surely standing there just out of sight, was getting a full view of her shameless display of her cheeks.

It all came flooding back. She'd been captured. Her muscles clenched with fury and panic wherever they could-- though her body wasn't quite under her own will's governance at the moment. This was HIS doing. SHE was supposed to be "Sparklechick." He wanted to strip her of her DIGNITY as a superhero; she wasn't even being allowed the honor of being a political prisoner. He had her dehumanized into this lewd, unsightly MOCKERY of a woman-- a whore with no will, made into sexual property, behaving like a cherished housepet. And he, the world's most politically powerful man, was putting his conquest on display for a board of the world's most politically powerful men.

"She used to battle in such damn-whorish armor," the Prime Executive mused jovially in that New Yorkshire accent. "Figured this would put a traitor like her in her place!" He rubbed his hand up and down her hind cheek, like she was some prized mare. "Sparklechick will make a fine example of what the U.E.V. does with defiant, political she-prisoners."

Energia growled. She'd had enough, ten times over. Her eyes began to glow blue, as a scowl crossed her face, enough rage flooding her system to override the docility chemicals in her bloodstream for the moment; at once, the whole boardroom shifted apprehensively.

"Mister Executive, you ensured us--"

"Ah, ah, relaaax, s'alright." The Executive gave the woman a nice firm slap on her asscheek. "Lil' Sparkles wants to use her lil' powers, hm?"

Energia heard little clicks behind her, as if he was typing something-- and before she could release any blast of energy, she suddenly felt her body move itself up into a kneeling position, her full breasts now in plain view for the whole board. The energy burning in her veins coalesced towards her chest, glowing through her round breasts, and then suddenly, her nipples sparked to life. Energia's face turned bright red and contorted with disgust and shame, as she witnessed each of her nipples let out a flurry of little sparks before igniting a minuscule, little flame on each end, like they were lighters.

The boardroom suddenly burst out laughing, even harder than when she'd barked.

"Ya see now? The stupid bitch is a fucking toy," the Prime Executive chuckled, with a hatefully hard, condescending smile in his gazing at her. He proudly popped a cigar out of his chest pocket, and nonchalantly neared it to her breast, lighting it on the flame of her nipple. She heaved with anger, desperately keeping herself from making another involuntary puppy noise, yet didn't realize that all her heaves did was have her breasts rise and fall.

"Oh hush your fuckin' gloryhole, Sparkletits. You lost," he scowled at her, with mild annoyance. She saw him reach back and heard a click of a button, and suddenly she started to swing her titties in circular motions, the little flames on the ends dancing around with them. The boardroom howled furiously, the cruelness in their tones apparent.

"THIS was the 'threat to national security?' She's a goddamn stripper."

"Stripper? Mutt, more like. Never seen a bitch so pathetic."

"She ain't a bitch, it's a toy!"

The Prime Executive smiled at them and compelled 'Sparkles' to suddenly let out some more barks while her titties danced.

"Rrrruff! Rrruff, ruff!"

Sparklechick, in her anger and shame, couldn't manage anything more intimidating than a puffy-lipped, blushy pout. The frustration and the helplessness were really pissing her off. Through her deathly glare, her eyes began to water.

"Damn, you can do anything with her, huh? Put the bitch in heat!"

This random man's lust-fueled holler of a request, sent chills through her back. And, of course, as the sounds behind her back suggested, the Prime Executive was OBLIGING. "NO NO NO NO NO--"

"Mmmm... mmmm...." The poor cunt's objections only came out as pissy whimpers running from her furious pout, though; and mere seconds later, her pussy began to shine and shimmer. Only a couple more moments passed before little drops started running off and down her thighs; and Sparkles couldn't do a thing but sit there and whimper (should her panic flare up enough to be channelled into her reprogrammed voice), mortified as her pussy was forcibly taken control of.

"SLUT!" crowed a man, drifting into a cruel laugh.

"That ain't the start. The engineers assured me she can do MUCH more. Sparklechick, ass up."

Sparkles obeyed, her reddened pout interrupted by her booty's sudden jerk up. As much as she wanted to resist, the control over her body was immaculate.

"Crawl over to one of these nice men and present your fat ass to him." Her eyebrows furrowed with surprise and disapproval, but she began to crawl towards a random official. Once arrived, she turned around, dropped her chest to the table with an, "Oop!" and a whiny, "Mmmm!" as the cold surface hardened her poor nipples. Her body just marched on though, and her hips shook her ass lightly at him, inviting the man in.

From this angle, she could finally see the Prime Executive, his neatly combed hair and chiseled features. He'd look like a cross between the archetypal suburban dad and and a fiercely aggressive politician-- had it not been ruined by the intense scarring covering one side of his face. Scarring that hadn't been there before. Scarring, she was realizing, that she left when she'd unleashed a blast of radiation on him before passing out. She kept her gaze notably straight on him, just so he would know that the smug little smile on her face was for him. He noticed. And he scowled.

"Feel free, Antonio. Use the broad."

She couldn't see this 'Antonio,' but she could just tell how eager he was, from the excited rustling of pants. She felt his warm fingers rubbing against her pussy, and then felt the strangely violating sensation of her pussy zipper being unzipped.

"NGH--!"

Suddenly, a thick, long length had been shoved balls deep into her dripping pussy.

"Now wait there just one second, Tony."

She glared murderous daggers at the Prime Executive-- though in her near-nude perverse attire, in her position on all fours, with the man behind her and his length filling her hole-- her glare didn't amount to much more than 'amusing.' And it only got worse, once he started clicking on his device-- a laptop-like device, she could now tell, though more sleek and less streamlined. Her heartbeat picked up once she realized what his input had done. Panic and embarrassment teased at her as she came to notice that the walls of her pussy were warming inside her for the a cock pressing inside. Her powers had been forcibly activated down there.

"God-DAMN, Mr. Prime Executive," Antonio chuckled, a little oomph to his voice. "She's like a brand new car, seat warmers and everything!"

"'Cockwarmer,' not a car, Tony. Don't blow her head up, the bitch has a place."

Sparklechick's gaze at the Prime Executive was one of pure hatred; it shone through, even as her cheeks and face burned deep crimson. The heroine's body had been appropriated by the government, to be repurposed into a fucktoy. He smiled back at her cruelly, though, and on his device, pressed another button; she couldn't tell what it did-- until suddenly, her pussy began to tickle.

"Why don't you give sweettits, here, a good fucking, Antonio. I'm sure she'll like it. Hear that sweettits? Hey, if you manage to keep yourself from moaning, whore, I'll give you back your freedom."

Her eyebrows furrowed furiously. No the fuck he wouldn't. Still, she wouldn't give him the satisfact--

"NNNGNGHG!!!" the whore mewled out, in unbearably sharp satisfaction. In one thurst of Antonio's cock, Sparkles had cum immediately, spraying her dirty juices all over the table and her thighs. It looked like she'd wet herself.

"Sheesh," Tony muttered. "Never seen a cunt need cock that bad." He thrust in again, and Sparkles's face contorted into the most ridiculous, perverse expression, eyes rolling back into her head, drool flicking off her bottom lip-- and cunt drool flicking off her other lips; the bitch had cum again. The boardroom buzzed with amusement at the ridiculous display.

"Ey, I wanna' turn," growled Tony's neighbor.

"Fuck off, Prime Executive pass me the fucktoy."

"You'll all have PLENTY of time to get to know Sparkles, fellas. Lemme finish the showcase. Tony get your cock outta that thing."

Tony looked disappointed, but pulled out after one last hard thrust-- which overloaded Sparkles's little cunt so much, it left her tits-down, ass-up on the table, drooling onto the hardwood. Her brain spaced out with cummy euphoria as her lewd juices flowed out the cute little slut, down to her knees.

"You ain't finished, Sparkles." Suddenly, even as her eyelids were but fluttering half open, her muscles autonomously shifted her body. She 'stood up' on her elbows and knees, turned her body around to face Antonio (her ass now pointing to the lucky man behind her), brought her head down-- making her exposed nipples graze the hardwood-- and began to clean up the filthy mess she'd made all over the table.

"You'll all be real pleased to know-- all the whore's holes have 'warming capabilities'."

As if on cue, the half-unconscious Sparkles pursed her lips in an 'O' before Antonio's wet cock, and her hips swayed gently back and forth, as if inviting him to clean himself off with her-- even though the foggy look in her lidded eyes told him she was still a bit braindead from the overstimulation. Antonio looked to the Prime Executive with an eager smile, and he waved his hand with approval. The man didn't waste another second, and shoved his hard, wet cock into the woman's mouth.

The moment the cock made contact with her inner mouth, the muscles within-- tongue, cheeks, lips-- perfectly flexed so that as he used her face to clean himself, the orifice felt tight, wet and soft all around-- not a trace of teeth. The mouth continued with its expert performance, in starting to beautifully suck on the phallus with a smooth, dancey rhythm and a gentle, yet increasingly, fierce suction. What's more, Antonio's moans broke out at the warmth of her tongue, her cheeks, her saliva, which were pleasantly heating up the ambience of her inner mouth until it felt like a hot-tub.

Antonio groaned, but the Prime Executive intervened. "All right, calm the fuck down, Tony. If you gotta jizz in the bitch, use her ass for that." Sparkles's eyes started to fill with life again; she barely made out the Executive's words as his voice faded in. She realized she was still in this nightmare-- as she pulled her mouth off Antonio's cock and turned around on the table for him. She recalled her orgasms, she realized she'd just blown him; she wanted to cry. She couldn't take being unable to do anything. Then suddenly, her ass to Antonio, she felt his cock start to breach her backdoor. "ARF!" she protested, as loudly as she could-- though even her barking capabilities had been embarrassingly dialed down to yips, so she only sounded like a cute, little petgirl. "Mmmm...!" she moaned out-- the cockhead, and then the length, had been pushed into her self-relaxing, self-warming asshole. Then suddenly, her eyes widened and she moaned out loudly; she felt spurt after spurt of white, hot cum fill up her bum, as Tony thrust in and out of her sensitive back hole. He growled with satisfaction, letting out a hearty laugh before giving her fat ass a nice slap, as he popped his cock out of her. She could feel the gazes on her pert, jiggly ass, on her just-used asshole-- not to mention the laughter that filled the room around her didn't help to make her any less self-aware-- and she could feel the cum starting to dribble slowly out of her butt, a drop running down over her pussy.