Power Girl: Seeder (Patreon)

This is taking too long, Karen thought. She’d picked the guy up and brought him home thinking that he’d be a decent fuck, but though he had staying power, he had neither the skill or size to get her off. So she ended up with that classic diner’s problem: the food wasn’t good enough for how big the portions were.

Still, like pizza, even when it was bad, sex was still sex. She rubbed her clit and let his meagerly-sized dick get her close enough to the finish line for her to edge herself over. It was more assisted masturbation than a really good fuck, but at least it was a release.

But that wasn’t to be. She was almost ready to come when he, Victor or whatever his name was, swelled up inside her and then spurted his creamy enjoyment all over her unsatisfied folds. Karen normally loved cum, but as a chaser for her own pleasure, not in place of it.

“Ohhhhh! Ahhhhh!” maybe-Victor howled; Karen couldn’t help but think he sounded pretty pleased with himself for a guy who hadn’t brought her off.

She tried to ignore him and reach climax herself, grinding herself into what he had to offer fast and hard, but it was no good. His cock went limp and shrunk so fast that it was almost insulting. Karen lifted herself off of him and felt his warm jizz oozing down her leg.

That was when her supersenses, no longer blotting out the larger world, detected the meteor that had pierced the atmosphere a few minutes ago. The sonic shockwave of the mingled crash and breaking of the sound barrier were still rebounding into the outer atmosphere.

It wasn’t a big meteor and it had landed well outside the city, but still, she was used to the Justice League being aware of these things. Had she blanked on a harmless meteor strike projected for today? Nope—she could hear Supergirl and Terra on the way there, talking amongst themselves about what was going on. They didn’t have any idea where it had come from either.

At least Victor… she was pretty sure it was Victor… had finished up fast enough that she could cut this short without being suspicious.

“I hope I’m pregnant,” she said to him with a wide smile.

He got out of there pretty fast after that. Karen washed up at superspeed, then changed into costume and flew out to join her Kryptonian ‘cousin’. Maybe it’d be some big nasty alien beastie she could hit. Hitting things was almost as good as proper sex.

Almost.

***

It was never just a meteor strike.

Karen quickly soared over ground zero, or rather, ground zeroes. The meteor had skipped across the ground as it impacted the countryside, leaving multiple divots in the earth until it finally came to a stop.

There, Karen saw that the vessel, or whatever it was, was the shape of a big pill, its sides glowing red from reentry but slowly cooling to a grayer, more metallic color. One rounded end had popped off the pill—the cap laid nearby—and out of that opening, some… Karen didn’t know what the hell it was… was spreading out onto the grass like an oil spill.

It looked to be a swampy morass of purple and blue, oil-slick and glossy, reflecting the light in a way that irritated her eyes. She couldn’t make out if it were some kind of moss or a mass of tendrils, writhing together. Sometimes it seemed to be one hirsute entity, other times a mob of appendages… not only were they wiggling around like a bucket of worms for fishing, but they distorted at the edges, blurring together, further making them difficult to look at.

Like a Magic Eye picture she couldn’t get to work, Karen was unable to discern between one picture or the alternate, but she could see that there was some effect she was supposed to… unlock in this pool of tentacles that were also a liquid? Either some kind of gelatin or they were producing a jelly or they were turning the surrounding environment into—

Then Karen saw Supergirl. Or rather, her skirt. It seemed to be floating on top of the ocean of alien biomatter, like Linda had taken it off for some reason, but of all the superheroines Karen knew, Linda was the least likely to take her clothes off in the middle of a mission.

Then she made out the backs of Linda’s thighs above those knee-high boots of hers and realized… Linda was bent over. Bent over the swarm and immersed in it, her legs and torso both thickly covered, her miniskirt rolling and undulating as something underneath… oh God… it was thrusting into Linda’s pussy. Fucking her. Linda was absolutely encased in the same alien that was fucking her.

And there was Atlee, her head ‘above water,’ mouth contorting to voice the moans and gasps of a well-sexed woman. Her body was entirely underneath the swarm, but her naked arms and legs emerged from the surface of it and she was petting it, petting herself, stroking both the tentacles that enfolded her and seemingly her own body through the sheet-like covering of the tentacles over her.

She looked like she was masturbating… the same look Linda had to be wearing deep underneath the surface of the swarm… until one of the tentacles detached from the rest and approached Atlee’s mouth.

“UUUHH! OOHHH! UUNNN! Good—yes—tight—ggghh! Oh yes! Fuck! Ah! Ah! Oh! Come!” Atlee was groaning, until the surging phallus plunged right into her gasping, drooling mouth. And then she was fucked there as well, the tentacle ramming into her face so hard that her head sunk below the roiling tide of the million tendrils that imprisoned her.

If she could be said to be a prisoner. None of that much looked like it was happening against her will. But Karen had heard Atlee and Linda talking on the way to this—landing site—and it hadn’t sounded at all like they were going to some intergalactic key party. What the hell could’ve made them suddenly start knocking boots with the Father of All Calamari?

Even as she considered the notion of a psychic attack, Karen felt a strange feeling rise in her—something like the tingle she’d felt with a few of the handsomer men who seemed as drawn to superhero work as moths were to a light, with those skintight costumes and rock-hard muscle and the swagger that told her they had more than six inches to go with their more than six foot height.

Horrified, she found herself looking with lewd interest at the tentacles her two friends were practically bathing in—long and hard, rounded tips dripping that glossy clear gelatin that lubricated everything like some drippy oil…

How could she be so lascivious, Karen wondered. What was happening to her? She tried to control herself, but there was no restraining the passion she felt growing inside her, desire that dwarfed the paltry reaction Victor had gotten out of her. This was the lust that she’d picked him up for a slim chance at finding.

This, this was what she’d wanted. This need to feel that delicious hardness with her hands, to stroke them and make them feel as good as they were making Atlee and Linda feel, to stuff her warming sex with their rigid potency.

Like a woman in a trance, Karen took hold of her costume’s iconic cutout and pulled. First, with the slack insistence of a sleepwalker, strength that wouldn’t snap a pencil. Then she exerted more force, the muscles in her arms flexing tight, until the seams gave and her abundant breasts spilled out into open air.

Plump and full and as high in the air as they could manage while still abiding by the reality of their massive heft, they looked like monuments to the very concept of the female breast, a Platonic ideal that heaved and jiggled and quaked from the first air molecule that Karen’s breath drew in to the carbon monoxide she exhaled from the bottom of her lungs.

The ocean seemed to quicken in approval; Atlee and Linda’s moans grew in volume as it did more of whatever it was doing to them.

Karen’s mind raced crazily. Why was she naked? More and more naked with each passing moment as she ripped every last strip of fabric from her curvaceous body? She had never felt anything like this before, not even with Superman on that one wild night when she’d been possessed by literal Lust and her desire for the alpha of all men had had free rein to run rampant through her throbbing body.

Even that supernatural occurrence was nothing next to her insatiable longing to share in the whorish delight written over Atlee and Linda’s captured, but clearly ecstatic bodies.

Kryptonians were not supposed to feel this way, she knew. Neither enough passion to be the aggressor or enough desire to be submissive. Breeding was just a thing they did—sperm and ovum—a mechanical process involving a small donation of excreta that was otherwise carried out by computer. Both man and woman were entirely passionless and logical throughout the entire affair.

This certainly isn’t logical, Karen thought. She felt like going down there, picking up as many of those ropey tendrils as she could, and—no, no, her mind cried, I can’t be thinking this way!

But she couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t help the way she felt, even with all the willpower she brought to bear. Slowly, hesitantly, like a balloon slowly losing its helium, she sank through the air.

Karen felt strangely detached from herself, like she was watching a recording of herself instead of inhabiting her body. She landed on her boots; one of the few things she still wore, along with her gloves and her cape, which the compulsion that gripped her didn’t seem to count as clothes. Then she fell to her knees in front of this… living forest fire, ready to be engulfed by it until she was burning as hot as Atlee and Linda.

One of the tentacles broke from the mass like a spray of sea foam coming up off the surf. It reared up into the air. Where the mass was knee-high to Karen, at least when she was standing, this was at eyelevel, like a cobra before a snake charmer. Only Karen didn’t have to play a flute or make any wavering ripples to charm it. Her naked body burned—it was entirely enough.

But at the same time another part of her mind—the part that had always been there, not this new, alien part that spoke so loudly—screamed with outrage. She was acting no better than a paid whore. Even worse. Whores needed the work; surely they didn’t enjoy themselves as much as Karen already was.

Her lips parted. She stuck out her tongue, making room. The snake came forward and Karen came to meet it, plunging her mouth onto its hardness without any hesitation. Like this were something she did every day, a polite courtesy she extended to every male she met.

So was she a whore? Had she been, this entire time? None of her friends or teammates knew that about her. Didn’t even suspect it. What would they say if they saw her naked, down on her knees, her costume ripped into a taboo yet undeniably striking mockery of what it had once represented, a perverse epitome of male desire filling her mouth?

It tasted fine and salty, that clear juice that dripped from the phallus proving especially sweet, going well with the musky, savory flavor of the appendage itself. She massaged the snake with her lips, lightly running her tongue across the rounded tip of it, exulting in the wonderful presence of it that loomed in her senses and in her lust and in some vague, promising way she couldn’t yet comprehend. But she knew it would satisfy her. This wasn’t a gamble like she’d taken on Victor. This was a certainty. She could literally taste it.