Naked And A Supergirl update (Patreon)

Kara had just finished taking a shower--Carggite cum smelled even weirder than the usual stuff--when her phone rang. Unthinkingly, she snatched up a towel. It was fine when it was just wiping away the beads of moisture clinging to her nubile body, but then she automatically wrapped it around herself.

Just like any other would-be clothing, it burst into flame. Kara shrieked and threw it into the still-damp shower stall. With renewed embarrassment, she padded naked through her apartment. And she had just been getting used to the whole nakedness thing. Going from shower-naked to Red Kryptonite-naked just brought home how really naked she was!

Stupid Red Kryptonite...

At least no one expected to Skype with her. On the internet, no one knew you were a dog, and over the phone, no one knew whether you were rated NC-17 or PG for comic violence. She picked up the handset.

"Hello, Kara Danvers speaking." She resisted the urge to ask for their credit card information.

"Danvers, I hear you're an associate of Clark Kent's." The voice was rough, harsh, buzzy like radio static. It sounded almost electronically modulated.

"Yes..." Kara said hesitantly. "I mean, I know Jimmy Olsen and he knows Clark, so there's been a little, I mean, some slight acquaintanceship you might say... why do you sound like a broken Teddy Ruxpin?"

"If you're a 'journalist' like Clark, then you should know that Livewire has escaped. A prison transport was taking her to Gotham City to study her condition, but a downed power line let her break free of her containment. That might make a good story. For your 'magazine'."

"Are you know of those people who smoked too much and needs a little electric thing to talk? I don't want to be insensitive if you are."

"Kara. I hear that you and Clark are close—like family—and since he can't get the 'scoop' in Gotham City, he'd want you to get it."

"Okay—wait, no, not okay, I have a certain medical condition at the moment and I can't really leave the house. Maybe you could get, uh, you know, another journalist to get the scoop."

"There is no one else. A scoop this big requires someone with special expertise. I won't be back in Gotham for another week. The only guardian Gotham has is Batgirl, and she could use the support of a good journalist."

"I really can't, uh, 'cover' the story at the moment, I would be left really exposed if I tried—"

"Innocent lives are at risk—"

"I actually have this pimple in a certain place—"

"So pop it. You think I've never had my uniform's integrity compromised on the job? Do you see me complaining about fighting Ra's al Ghul with my shirt off? Do you think I let museums get robbed just because all I had on was my utility belt? My cape? My cowl?"

"Wait, was this three separate occasions where all you had on were your belt, then your cape, then your cowl, or was it all three? Because if it's all three, that's practically what Starfire wears..."

"All three. But it wasn't the baggy, pouchy belt, it was the slim one with the little capsules. While you're in Gotham City, be sure to stay away from Catwoman."

"Yeah, I try to stay away from Cats in general. So if I do go through with this—Gotham doesn't have any traffic cameras or anything, does it?"

"It'd be hard for the Batman to get anything done if there were. I can personally guarantee the internet will be a no-go zone while you're in Gotham."

Well... as long as she didn't embarrass the House of El. And it would feel good to be helping people again. And Gotham was a long way from National City...

"Alright, I'll do it. But seriously, what's with your voice? Are you talking to me through a fan?"

***

Batgirl didn’t actually think Livewire would show. Knowing supervillains, she would be halfway to Metropolis by now for a rematch with Supergirl. It was a thing with supervillains; compulsory. But Batman, of all people, wouldn’t hear of that, not when there was even a possibility of a meta in his city.

And hey, any excuse to drive the Batmobile. It just felt good to drive the old tank. Especially when the safety restraints went between her legs and she really let the engine out and everything was rumbling.

Ahem.

Barbara was just considering pulling into an alley somewhere, going into stealth mode, and relieving a little tension—it just felt better when she did it in the suit—when lightning struck the Batmobile. The controls locked. The engine thrummed, pulsing additional power into the axis and squealing tires. Like a startled horse, the vehicle took off, jet engine flaming to accelerate them at maximum velocity.

And there was a woman sitting beside Barbara.

Livewire.

She still wore the dull orange prison jumpsuit she’d been transported in, but it has burned through in places, exposing her gray skin. A shock of bluish hair had been cut short and now spiked jaggedly from her scalp. With her tattered clothes lining a body that was voluptuous to begin with, her sensual body was well-displayed.

“Just got outta prison, sweet stuff. I’m looking for a ride.”

Barbara braced herself as Livewire—somehow remotely controlling the Batmobile—sent it into a tight curve. She was thrown against her restraints, her own curves pushed outward between the safety belts.

“Mmm,” Livewire said. “Make that rides, plural. I have been in jail, after all. Lady jail. And what better way to celebrate than with a redhead? Well, maybe if you were wearing a gimp outfit like I heard Batgirl was supposed to, but—can’t have everything.”

Electricity flickered on her fingertips and she swiped them at Barbara, cutting through her restraints like an arc welder. Suddenly unmoored, Barbara was thrown sprawling across the Batmobile’s bench seating with the next hard left. Livewire now hovered over her. Red heat flared at her groin, energy emerging from some very white pubic hair—so she wasn’t a natural blue—in the shape of a strap-on.

“Don’t worry, Bats, it’s our first date. We’ll do it all over the shirt.” And with a cackling laugh, Livewire mounted Barbara, parting her thighs and stabbing her lightning cock into Barbara’s groin. It was padded with protective gear, including outright Kevlar. It didn’t matter. The energy went right through it. Right into Barbara.

“EEEIIII! AAAAHHH!” Barbara screamed as her mind was blown apart. Electric currents contracted and released every nerve in the recesses of her sex. Her clitoris vibrated like a joy buzzer, all of her pussy casting off bolts of rapturous, excruciating orgasm. One after another. On and on. Her body was suddenly an inferno of erotic fire.

“NNNNNNNNNN!” Barbara begged. Her mind a distorted, chaotic maelstrom of insanity, of lascivious need and pleading release. She couldn’t stand it. No one could stand such an overwhelming, unrelenting onslaught. No one could take such pleasure.

She was moaning, screaming, raving as the orgiastic torture had her juices running in rivers from her twitching, erupting cunt. She could feel her panties, twisted and sodden, and through them, the material of the armor itself, slick and smooth with her flowing honey. It was torture. It was the most wonderful lover she’d ever had. It was pain and pleasure and foreplay and climax, she wanted it, she needed it, she couldn’t take anymore.

“NO! NO! DON’T! PLEASE! DON’T! OOOH! OH! STOP! FUCK, NO! PLEASE! FUCK, YOU BITCH! FUCK! FUCK YOU! DON’T STOP, STOP, I, I, I CAN’T, NO, DON’T! DON’T STOP! DON’T EVER STOP! NO, NO! MORE—!”

Miraculously, hatefully, it stopped.

“You want more?” Livewire asked.

It was all Barbara could think about. She must’ve nodded.

Livewire ripped the torn garments away from her groin. “Then suck. And do it right or I’ll go find a Black Canary to fuck! Damn, those bitches are hot!”

Barbara was exhausted from the lust that had ripped through her body, but she obediently rearranged herself, lowering her head to Livewire’s cunt. Anything to bring her back to the transcendent state of orgasm she had so briefly occupied.

Livewire’s cunt tasted wonderful, with a shocking aftertaste like licking a battery. It sent tingles of electricity down Barbara’s body, mounting in her oversensitive breasts, teasing currents of twitching pleasure from her engorged nipples. Barbara paused for a moment, reminding herself not to go too fast, remembering it was better to tease than to please, at least when starting out.

She ripped away more of Livewire’s clothes; never a chore, when a woman looked as good as Leslie Willis did, and she licked the flat, tight tummy with broad strokes of her tongue. Livewire cooed in anticipation, her glowing blue cunt giving off sparks. Barbara ducked her head toward it, tonguing Livewire’s navel, then tickling her lower belly with her tongue, taking Livewire to a new level of delight.

Now she spread the bare, shapely legs, placing them on her shoulders, alternately licking and kissing Livewire’s pubis, just grazing the pubic hair with her chin. She positioned her knees inside of Livewire’s legs, moving herself further back as she did. And now, like a cat drinking from its water bowl, she returned her attentions to Livewire’s cunt. Absence had made it grow fonder.

It was oversensitive, needy to the point of buzzing with desire for Barbara’s tongue. Barbara kissed it, shoving her tongue deep inside Livewire, she closed her eyes against the cascading answer of electricity and there was a fireworks show behind her eyelids, feeling the literal power of Livewire’s orgasm as it sent lightning bolts shooting from her loins.

“Fuuuuck!” Livewire wailed, hiking her ass up from the seat as she reached the very peak. There was nothing like Batgirl’s submission to get her off, and her flowing electricity tore through the Batmobile, short-circuiting every microchip in it, frying every wire, blowing out every fuse. It grinded to a stop, the automatic safety measures the only thing still working, but Barbara barely registered that she’d raised one hand to brace herself against the console as she stayed with Livewire’s cunt, desperate to keep her tongue inside it.

Now she added her fingers, hoping the yellow gloves were insulated. They were, leaving Barbara’s fingers with only a pleasant tingle as she diddled Livewire, sucking on her clit, making tangy cum gush out to be gulped down with joy. Barbara was feeding her already wet panties an equal measure.

She took her hand away almost as quickly as she’d used it, strands of Livewire’s honey bridging her long fingers. She wanted to finish the job with her tongue. She lapped at Livewire’s overflowing womanhood, lips pulling at the flaring labia, practically milking Livewire with her mouth as a pump. Her tongue splashed into the soaked labia and it sucked on her tongue, Livewire’s body practically dragging it deep inside her sex.

Livewire grabbed her by the horns of her cowled head, throwing her down underneath and twisting on top of her so she was gyrating wildly atop Barbara’s dancing tongue, peaking again and again, feeding out plenty of her cream for Barbara to dutifully swallow. At the height of her crest, she cried out with ecstasy, slapping her hand down between Barbara’s instinctually spread legs. It glowed with energy, whips of it lashing through Barbara’s dark body armor like flickers of lightning inside a storm cloud.

Never, not ever, had anything consumed Barbara so totally. She was driven outside herself, away from all thoughts of duty or self-respect or responsibility or, indeed, anything. All she felt, cared about, could think about was her unbearable, wonderful need. Her breasts were heated to molten redness. Her throat contracted around the splendid, spouting orgasm Livewire was feeding her. Her groin clung and sucked at the phantom pleasure of the electricity being ground into her sex. Her clitoris hummed with vibration while her vulva gushed streams of ecstatic assent.

While all the time her mind zigzagged and sputtered, whirled and exploded in an avalanche of release. She wasn’t able to stand such joy but please, God, don’t let it end!

It was too much. She really couldn’t take it. The last thing she remembered was trying to scream at the same time she ate Livewire’s cunt.