Powergirl was regarded as powerful first and sexy second. Sure, men ogled her tits but then they remembered, "Oh fuck, she can kill me and my entire gang," and often became submissive. She was a rival to some of the most powerful entities on Earth. Certainly, among women, civilians and villains would be hard pressed to list anyone as reliable or physically able as Powergirl.
She was intelligent, business-savvy, and—
"Fuck… fuck… I can't feel my legs."
Right now, at some dingy gallery in Gotham City, Powergirl was helpless. She was wobbling head to toe and it was all because of one man. A man whose name she did not know. A man who was trying his best not to trip over as they got out of the bathroom.
Karen was hot and heavy and breathing on his neck. The busty blonde, from boobs to arms, leaned into him. This magnificent, sweat-slicked woman was trembling, all because of one man's dick. All because of the pizza guy. They were at a party, took to the stalls, and the rest was as it could be seen. The red silk of her dress was a ruin, crumpled around her waist, her perfect breasts still exposed, nipples hard and wet from his mouth. Remember, her dress had been thin. Of course it couldn't easily go back to what it was before. She giggled, a drunken, giddy sound, and nuzzled his shoulder.
"Your fault. You and that… that monster between your legs. Mmm, I can still feel it. Stretching me."
He braced them both against the cool tile wall of the gallery hallway. His own knees felt like water. "Y-you're the one who… who wouldn't stop."
"And I won't," Karen purred, her hand sliding down to grope him through his trousers. He was still semi-hard. She squeezed, making him jump. "I'm just getting started with you, pizza boy. But not here. Let's get out of this stuffy place, hm~!"
"W-wait, but your dress…"
"Oh, don't worry." Karen's gaze shifted elsewhere. He had no idea why but it seemed like she was…seeing through the wall? But that wasn't possible.
Was it?
BRRRRAAAAAAWWWWWP! BRRRRAAAAAAWWWWWP!
As if on cue, a piercing, mechanical shriek ripped through the air. The fire alarm, it had gone off. Huh? What timing! The lights strobed. The faraway cultured murmur of the party transformed into a confused roar.
The pizza guy was confused. Seriously, what kind of luck was this? Then he remembered.
'Catwoman!'
"See?" Karen grinned. "Even the universe agrees. Time to go." She clumsily tugged her dress back into place, the deep V still gaping, the knot retied in a haphazard, sloppy bow. She didn't bother with modesty. She wanted him looking. "Help me walk, stud."
"Y-yes, ma'am."
He slung an arm around her waist, holding her up as much as she was holding him. They stumbled out of the hallway and into the main gallery, now a chaotic stream of bewildered socialites and staff heading for the exits. No one paid them any mind in the panic.
Squelch… squelch…
The sound came from between Karen's thighs. Hearing it, she pressed closer, her lips at his ear. "Hear that? That's your cum leaking out of my holes, darling. Dripping down my thigh. I'm a mess because of you."
His cock twitched feebly. "Karen…"
"I know, I know. You want to bend me over the hood of your car and fuck another load into my greedy little pussy, don't you?" Oh god, this woman. "Maybe I'll let you~!"
Okay. Wow. She felt him hurry up and giggled.
They spilled out onto the street amidst the crowd. The chilly Gotham air did little to cool the couple. Karen clung to him and let him lead the way. His car was a few blocks away. The walk was a shuffling, intimate march.
They reached the car. He fumbled with the keys, his hands shaking. She didn't wait for him to open her door. She just slid into the passenger seat with a wince and a soft, satisfied sigh. "Ohhh… I am so full. I can feel your cum sloshing inside me." She spread her legs right there in the seat, the ruined silk of her dress hiking up to her hips. In the dim light from the streetlamp, he could see the creampied evidence of their fucking.
He tore his eyes away, got in from the other side, and started the car. The engine coughed to life.
"My place," Karen said. "You remember, right? Drive. And keep one hand on my thigh."
Yes ma'am! He started driving. The other socialites were mostly confused so they weren't leaving. It was an open road for the pizza guy. As he drove, Karen guided his hand higher, until his fingertips brushed her cunt. He felt his own cum. But also, Karen was so hot. So wet.
"I know, I know, you came sooo much! Almost feels like you won't be able to stuff anymore," Karen sighed, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. "But I'm insatiable for you. It's that cock. It's… programmed me. I need it. I need you pumping into me, stretching me open, filling all my empty little holes."
The drive was a blur. His heart pounded hard. The big titty blonde sex addict told him, in graphic, nasty detail, everything she wanted to do to him when they got to her house. How she wanted him on his back so she could ride his "that beautiful dick at the same time and see his lovely face." How she wanted to see how many times she could make him cum before he passed out.
He pulled up to the same brick townhouse with the cheerful blue door. Late at night, the garden lights were effective in dispelling Gotham's darkness for once.
"Home sweet home." Karen sounded thick with post-sex lethargy and fresh desire. She made no move to get out. Instead, she turned to him, her eyes heavy-lidded. "Carry me inside. Carry me to my bed and fuck me in it. I want to sleep with you inside me."
He was about to speak, about to get out and walk around to her door, when a sharp, electronic chirp cut through the car's silence.
Karen stiffened. Her playful, lust-drunk expression vanished, replaced by duty, urgency, and…irritation. She pulled a sleek phone from some hidden pocket in her ruined dress.
Seriously, where did she get that?
The screen glowed, casting a blue light on her face.
Karen read the message. Her full lips pressed into a thin line. "Damn it."
"Everything okay?" he asked.
She forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. The Karen from the bathroom stall, the screaming, begging, cum-drunk goddess, was gone. In her place was another woman. From his view, it was the CEO Karen Starr.
In reality, it was Powergirl.
"Duty calls, darling. Unexpected board meeting." The lie was smooth, but her frustration was real. She leaned over, capturing his lips in a hard, possessive kiss. Her tongue pushed into his mouth as a promise.
She pulled away, breathing heavily. "This isn't over. Not even close. I'll find you." She got out of the car and jogged to her blue door without a backward glance, the picture of elegant composure, though the back of her dress was still stained and wrinkled. Her ass cheeks jiggling were quite a delight.
He watched her unlock the door and slip inside. The porch light went off.
He sat there for a long minute. He let out a long, shaky breath, put the car in gear, and pulled away from the curb.
He didn't look back. He was too busy replaying everything to see the blur of red and white erupted from the back of the house a second later. He didn't see it tear through the clouds, a streak heading for the upper atmosphere and the orbital watchtower beyond.
The pizza guy just drove back to the pizza place, oblivious and blue-balled.
***
The neon 'OPEN' sign flickered off. The pizza shop was silent now. Closed, to be exact, wit the pizza guy inside walking back to the front counter and running a hand through his hair.
"Man…"
As much as he wanted to go home, he felt tired and buzzed. The sexual tension was still there, buzzing under his skin, making his cock twitch against his zipper.
'Fuck. I need to… do something. Anything.'
He moved to the back, intending to maybe lay on the couch and take a nap.
Except the light was already on.
"Huh?"
Selina Kyle was there in the backroom, her back to him. She was carefully placing a small, ornate canvas against a stack of flour sacks. Next to it was a jar. Were his eyes playing tricks or was that jar glowing?
Selina hummed a little tune, her hips—encased in tight black leather—swaying.
"Almost didn't fit in your little safe," Selina said without turning around. "But it'll do. For now."
He stared. "C-Catwoman?"
"Please, call me Selina."
"Selina, right. Um, what are you doing here?"
She turned, a brilliant, proud smile on her face. The emerald gown was gone, replaced by her usual sleek catsuit, unzipped to her sternum. "I'm storing my loot, darling. A girl can't very well walk back to her hideout carrying a Kandinsky and an artsy expensive jar, can she?"
"So, uh, you got it?"
"I did." She patted the glowing jar lovingly. "This little beauty is worth a fortune." Her smile turned sharp. "So, thank you. Truly."
She sauntered over to him, liquidy and predatory. She stopped inches away, looking up at him through her lashes. "And since you were such a help… I was thinking. Your back room here is nice and quiet. Isolated. I could lay low for a few days. You do still owe me, after all."
"U-um…" he stammered while her finger traced a line down his chest. "The deal was just for entry, remember?"
"But a deal can be… renegotiated."
Fucking hell. This was Karen all over again. This was a spark to the dormant oil inside him. The ache in his balls, the constant throb of his cock since he'd left Karen's townhouse, crested into a painful, demanding roar. The blue balls was the oil and it had just erupted.
"..."
"Come on, darling~!" Selina's smirk was knowing. "A little shelter. A little… discretion." Her gaze dropped to his crotch. "You look tense, pizza boy. Long night?"
A babe like this was trying to…what? Seduce him?
Why waste time then?
His hands went to his belt. Clink! The button popped. The zipper snarled down. He shoved his pants and boxers down.
THWACK!
His cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach. It was fully, painfully erect, thick and veined and angry-red, a drop of precum already beading at the tip.
Selina's confident smirk vanished.
Her eyes widened. Her jaw went slack. She took an involuntary step back, her spine hitting the edge of the metal desk. "O-oh. Right…"
She stared with shock. The kind of shock that steals the breath, that short-circuited the brain of a woman who has seen it all.
Her eyes travelled its impossible length, its daunting girth. She was remembering all over again. Her confidence was going down the drain.
Eye contact was made.
The last thread of his patience snapped. He closed the distance in one step. His hands gripped her hips, spun her around, and bent her forward over the cold metal desk. Smack! Her leather-clad stomach met the steel.
"Hey—!" she started, a protest born of habit, of pride.
He didn't care. He grabbed the waist of her catsuit and yanked it down, exposing the perfect, round globes of her ass. Dark, smooth skin and he had to slap that ass only so that he could see it jiggle and wobble. What was more important, however, was that she was wet.
'Fuck yeah she is,' he thought savagely.
He spat into his palm, slicked his raging cock once, and notched the monster cockhead against her entrance.
"Wait, you bastard, I—" Selina gasped, pushing back against the desk.
He pushed forward.
The head popped past her outer lips, and Selina Kyle—Catwoman, thief, absolute badass—let out a sound she'd never made before. A high, sharp, utterly shattered
"GYAAAAHH—!"
He didn't stop. He couldn't. He shoved another inch, then another three, and then more.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, OH FUCK~!! I REMEMBER THIS COCK AGAIIIN—!"
Oh yes she did, especially when he buried himself to the hilt in three brutal, deep strokes. CLAP—! He was in. All the way in. Her pussy was swallowing him whole, clenching around this monster dong.
"UNNH! UNNH! FUCK! IT'S TOO BIG! TOO FUCKING BIG!" Selina screamed, her knuckles white where she gripped the desk edge. Her whole body shuddered. "YOU'RE SPLITTING ME IN HALF!"
He pulled back until just the tip remained, watching her drenched pink folds cling to him.
"Waitwaitwaitwait—!"
Then he slammed home.
CLAP—!
"AAAAAGH!" Her back arched. "CUUUMMIIING~!!"
CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
"YES! YES! FUCK! DO THAT AGAIN! MAKE ME CUM AGAIIN~!!
No finesse. No gentle seduction. This was raw, driven fucking. The kind of fucking a man does when he's been backed up and teased to the brink.
CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
"Cumming, cumming," she was murmuring and going higher and higher as he fucked her, "CUMMING, CUMMIING, CUMMIIIIING~!!"
The desk rattled with each impact. His balls swung, slapping against her fat Brazillian ass with every thrust. Absolute Catwoman was a hot woman that was not ashamed of leaving Gotham, of finding her fortunes, of moving on from Batman.
But this?
Oh god, she never thought she'd move on in this way. Find a stud this fucking addicting with a cock this monstrously big.
Selina's cries transformed. The shock melted, burned away by a rising tsunami of pleasure. "Oh fuck… oh fuck that's it… right there! That's the spot! Fuck me! FUCK ME WITH THAT MONSTER COCK!"
Her pride was crumbling. Her composure shattered. She was just a woman being fucked senseless by the best dick she'd ever had.
He grunted, grabbing a handful of her curly hair, pulling her head back. This ordinary cock was ruining her tight little thief pussy. It was. It was simply reality.
"YES! YES I FUCKING LOVE IT!" she wailed, her eyes rolling back. "IT'S A FUCKING GOD-COCK! DESTROY ME! PLEASE!"
He fucked her harder. Deeper. His hips became a blur. Her juices flowed, making a wet, messy splortch-splortch sound with every drive.
"I'm gonna cum!" Selina shrieked, her voice breaking. "I'M GONNA—OH GOD—AAAAAHHHHHHH~!"
Her orgasm hit like a seizure. Her pussy clamped down. Her cream flooded his cock, hot and slick. She screamed, trembling violently.
He didn't stop. He fucked her through it.
Karen had blue-balled this man. Karen had stopped what should have been a long, marathon of a fuck.
Selina was now in her place. Selina was taking the brunt of a man with blue balls.
"Cum again."
Never mess with a man that was blue-balled. Ever.
"I CAN'T!" she sobbed, overstimulated, her legs shaking. "TOO MUCH!"
He reached around, his fingers finding her clit. He rubbed it hard, in fast, tight circles.
"NYAAAAAGH—!" Another orgasm, sharper, more intense, tore through her. This one had her squirting, a hot jet of liquid that splattered against the desk leg. Splurt-splurt! "FUCK! I'M SQUIRTING!"
She had never squirted with Absolute Batman, with her ex-boyfriend. But this hung bastard…! Last time and now this time, he was making the impossible possible. He was getting better and smarter at fucking.
"Where do you want it?" he grunted, slamming into her. "I'm going to cum, so where!?"
"INSIDE!" Selina begged, mindless, her tongue lolling out. "FLOOD MY FUCKING WOMB! PUMP YOUR THICK BABY BATTER IN ME! MAKE ME DRIP FOR DAYS!"
The vulgar plea was a formality. He had already planned on filling her. Thick, virile ropes of cum fired deep into her cervix. He pulsed, jet after hot jet, filling her, painting her insides white. She whimpered with each injection, her overstimulated pussy fluttering around his spurting cock.
He stayed buried, panting. Cum leaked out around the base of his shaft and onto the floor. Drip! Drip! Selina was limp over the desk, a broken, twitching mess.
He slowly pulled out. A gush of their mixed fluids followed, pooling on the floor between her boots with a soft plap.
"Haaaah… haaah… oh my god…" Selina panted, her voice wrecked. In terms of actual sound, it was scratchy and meek. Descriptions that—if Absolute Batman was here—would never be attributed to Absolute Catwoman.
This pizza guy had changed her though. He had changed her pussy with his cock. He had changed her mind with his cock. He had changed her kinks with his cock. Everything.l
"That was, haah…the best fuck… of my entire life…"
He thought it was over. He thought he'd finally found release. But his cock, slick and glistening with their juices, twitched. It didn't soften. It stayed hard, throbbing, demanding.
Selina turned her head, her cheek against the cool metal. She saw it. Her eyes, hazy with pleasure, widened again in dawning, delicious horror.
"No… no way…" she whispered.
"Sorry."
Really shouldn't have teased a guy that had been blue-balled, Selina. He hooked his hands under her arms and lifted her. She was lighter than he expected. He turned her around, her back to the desk, and lifted her up, sitting her on the edge.
"W-what are you doing?" she stammered, but her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. Absolute Catwoman understood. She w
He guided his still-rock-hard cock back to her swollen, dripping entrance. "Round two."
There was no protest in it. Only awe and hunger and the pupil reflection of him entering her cunt.
Selina's head fell back, a choked cry escaping her lips. In missionary position, he could see everything. The way her tits strained against the leather of her catsuit. The way her stomach quivered as his cock reached deep, deep inside. The look on her face—shattered and blissfully conquered.
He started to move. Slow, deep, grinding thrusts that hit her very core.
"Oh fuck… fuck… it feels deeper like this…" she moaned, her hands clutching at his shoulders. "You're so much fucking deeper than Batman, nggghh…with this fucking dick…"
A hand went and tugged on her outfit to let her tits bounce out. He sucked her nipples in his mouth. Selina yelped, then moaned louder.
Suck them. Fuck her and suck her tits. Make her cum again. Again and again and again. Make her cum on this beautiful, horrible cock. The pizza guy, like some divine figure that was born to steal Absolute Batman's girl, fucked her with deep, measured strokes, each one making her whole body jolt. He sucked her nipples until she was crying out.
He was simply otherworldly. He was simply too much for this woman.
She gasped. She whimpered. Her toes curled. She tried to lace her arms around his neck and fucking failed. This stud was fucking her brains out. Grunting, he made the table shake. He was ruining this tight, perfect Brazilian cunt and making her cum so hard that she was going to forget how to steal. It was THAT mind-numbing.
"YES! YESYESYESYES—! I'MCUMMING!"
She failed to be quiet when she bit her bottom lip and erupted into a loud, sobbing wail. "AAAAAHHHH-HA-HA-HA~!!" Her pussy gushed around him, another hot flood. Her legs trembled violently around his hips.
He was right there with her. The pizza guy came again.
Another load, just as thick, just as potent, flooded her already-filled womb. It overflowed, spilling out around their joining with a messy sploosh.
He stood there, his cock still lodged inside her. Selina's arms, whic had been spasming and desperately trying to reach for him, hit the table. It was a loud drop. Her eyes were closed, tears of overwhelmed pleasure tracing lines through the light sweat on her temples.
"You…" she gasped out, "are a fucking monster."
He finally, slowly, softened and slipped out. It was a mess. The desk, the floor, her legs—covered in their passion.
Selina slid off the desk to try and get on her feet. She was still conscious after all and this wasn't her first time getting fucked. Yet, when she hit the floor, her legs gave away. The pizza guy caught her. She looked up at him, and for the first time, there was no sly smirk.
"So…"
A slow, dazed smile touched her swollen lips. She wobbled. "I don't think I can walk."
He was about to say something when his cock, against all logic and biology, twitched again against his thigh. It was filling out. Getting hard. Again.
Selina's eyes dropped. She saw it. The blood drained from her face, then flooded back in a deep blush of arousal and sheer disbelief.
"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me," she whispered, but her hand was already reaching for his cock. "You… you can't possibly…"
He was.
She jerked his dick off. She was mesmerized.
Absolute Catwoman realized something as she witnessed his flag stand upright. She was NEVER leaving this dimension. She was never leaving this cock. Leaving this stud.
Fuck the Absolute World. This pizza man mattered more. She smirked, looked up at him, and stuck her tongue out. She didn't say anything. She let her looks do the work. She let her hands, jerking him off, speak the words.
He understood.
For the next ten hours, he fucked her till she was a sobbing mess.
***
The morning light through the greasy window was unforgiving. It illuminated the dust motes dancing over the cold pizza ovens and the sticky residue on the countertop. Everything was mundanely normal.
The pizza guy wiped down the surface. He was humming. He looked satisfied in a deep, bone-weary way and had the cloth go in perfect circle.
A soft groan echoed from the back room.
He smiled. He didn't need to look. He knew what he'd find. Selina Kyle, the legendary Absolute Catwoman, was a broken heap on the old couch he kept for breaks. After round… four? Five? He'd lost count. After the final, shuddering creampie that had her begging him to stop even as she clawed his back for more, she'd simply passed out. He'd carried her to the couch, draped a towel over her, and let her be.
The groan was followed by a weak, thready whisper. "Fucking… hell…"
He smiled to himself and picked up the cordless phone as it rang. "Gotham Pizza, can I help you?"
The order was for a large half-pepperoni, half-mushroom. It was for pick-up too. Excellent. He was the only person managing today. Would be a bit of a tight squeeze to deliver and manage the store. He scribbled it down and then got to work.
Ten minutes later, after putting the pizza in the oven, the bell over the front door jingled. Great timing. Two regulars walked in, construction workers by the look of their boots.
"—and I'm tellin' ya, my cousin works at the Monarch Theater. Says it's gonna be huge," one was saying.
"Magic shows are for kids," the other grumbled.
"Not this one! It's that Zatanna Zatara. The real deal! Saw her on TV once. She made a guy's pants disappear right off him. Poof!" The man snapped his fingers.
"Zatanna?" The pizza guy looked up, flour dusting his hands.
"Yeah! She's comin' to Gotham. Big show tonight. Sold out, of course. Lucky bastards who got tickets."
Zatanna Zatara. The name rang a bell. Famous stage magician. Actually, more than a stage magician, if the rumors in a city like Gotham were true. He'd seen posters a couple years back. A stunning woman with long, dark hair and a stage tuxedo. He pushed the thought aside and got the regulars to order. They only asked for small slices. Didn't take long to get what they wanted.
The workers got their slices and left. The customer on the phone soon arrived for pick-up. All in a day's work. The pizza guy was doing pizza guy things.
Then the bell jingled again.
Destiny had dictated this was the end of the ordinary.
"My dearest delivery man!" Starfire announced, grinning. "We are in need of sustenance!"
Starfire beamed at him. Her orange hair was such a vibrant shock against Gotham's gray. She really didn't belong here. She wore purple shorts and a matching coloured tube top that did incredible things for her breasts. Beside her, Raven was pretty much her opposite with her dark purple hoodie and black leggings. Her face partially obscured by her indigo hair.
Raven's eyes—a striking violet—flicked to him, then darted away just as quickly. A faint, almost imperceptible blush touched her pale cheeks.
Right. They had fucked.
"H-hey. Starfire. Raven," the pizza guy greeted, wiping his hands on his apron. "Usual?"
"Yes, please!" Starfire chirped, gliding up to the counter. "One extra-large 'Meat-Lover's Delight' with extra cheese, and one small vegetable medley for Rachel."
Raven gave a tiny, resigned nod, still not looking at him directly.
"Coming right up." He turned to the fridge for ingredients, hyper-aware of Raven's presence. The silence was thick.
Starfire, blissfully unaware or intentionally ignoring the tension, leaned on the counter. "We are having a most exciting evening! Are you familiar with the magician, Zatanna Zatara?"
Her again? Really?
His hands paused on the pepperoni package. "Uh, yeah. Actually, some guys were just talking about her show."
"It is tonight!" Starfire clapped her hands together. "I have heard her show is most entertaining! Rachel has secured tickets!"
Raven finally spoke. "I do have two tickets, except you have a date with Dick, remember?"
Starfire's brilliant smile faltered for a nanosecond. "Oh! Yes! My, uh, my apologies, Rachel!" She recovered quickly, but the disappointment was clear in her emerald eyes. She explained to the pizza guy even though she really didn't have to. "Dick has planned a romantic rooftop evening. I cannot cancel! It's unfortunate, really. Really unfortunate…"
She turned her pleading gaze on the pizza guy, who was now layering cheese. "Ah!"
That look. That was an idea alright. He readied himself for it.
"Are you free tonight?"
"Me?" He nearly dropped the cheese shredder. "I… um…"
"You should go!" Starfire declared, as if it were the most obvious solution in the world. "You and Rachel can go together! It will be fun! Trust me!"
Raven's head snapped up. "Kory, no. That's not—"
"It is a perfect solution!" Starfire barreled on, rummaging in her small purse. She produced a single, elegant ticket with a flourish and slapped it on the counter. "Here! It is yours! You and Rachel can now go. You're both such wonderful people! It'll be a pleasant time." She then tried to subtly wink at Rachel. It wasn't subtle at all since the pizza guy caught it. "Yes?"
Starfire looked between them, so genuinely hopeful and commanding that it felt impossible to refuse. Raven looked like she wanted to melt into the linoleum floor.
"I… I guess?" the pizza guy managed, staring at the ticket.
"Wonderful! It's decided!" Starfire's smile could have powered the oven. "The show is at eight. At the old Monarch Theater. You will pick her up at our apartment at seven-thirty. Yes?"
Raven let out a long, slow exhale. A whisper of shadow seemed to curl at her feet for a second before dissolving. She finally met his eyes. There was annoyance there, but also a flicker of something else… resignation. "Fine."
"Excellent!" Starfire paid for the pizzas, her mood fully restored. "I must go prepare for my date! Do not be late, Pizza Guy Friend!"
The grinning Starfire was just too much. She was hopping from foot to foot. The pizza guy disappeared only to return with their pizzas.
"Remember!" Starfire said while handing money. "Unless it's a big deal?"
Really? Asking if it was a big deal when she already handed the ticket over? "I-it's fine. Really."
Raven's violet eyes met his. They didn't need to telepathy to share sympathies.
"Great then!"
Carrying their pizzas, Rachel and Starfire left the store. The pizza guy scratched his cheek and looked over at the ticket.
Somehow, he was going on another date. Two dates in a row. What was his luck these days?
***
The clock hit seven. He'd closed up early. Selina was still on the couch. She'd drank water, muttering, "My legs…and my pussy…" and passed back out.
He'd showered at his place, and put on dark jeans and a button-down shirt that didn't smell like pepperoni. It felt weird.
At seven twenty-five, he parked his dingy car outside the decent apartment building. He wasn't waiting long.
The front door opened and a well-dressed Raven locked onto his car. Covering herself, she speed-walked over.
"Wow…"
But don't be mistaken. She was lovely tonight with her elegant black dress that fell to just above her knees. The sleeves were long, the neckline high, but the way it hugged her slender frame was… pronounced. Her indigo hair was down, smooth and shiny, framing her pale, solemn face. She had a small black clutch in her hand.
Rachel looked… incredible. And deeply uncomfortable. She walked to the passenger side. He scrambled to get out and open the door for her.
"You didn't have to do that," Rachel murmured, sliding in.
"I know." He closed the door, the thunk oddly loud.
When he got in, the car was filled with her scent—that cool, mysterious incense. It was so different from Karen's perfume or Selina's wild spice.
He started the car. "So… the Monarch Theater."
"Yes." She stared straight ahead.
The drive began in utter silence. The tension was a physical thing, coiled between them in the small space. Memories flashed of the hot spring. Man, that was…intense.
"Sorry about all this," she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet.
"It's okay," he agreed, relief flooding him at the acknowledgment. "I, um, don't usually do much."
"You mean you don't go on dates?" After the brief pause, she snickered. "I'm joking."
Oh! Oh, she was joking? That…that was progress, right? She was an emo, quiet goth chick so to make her comfortable enough to smile and joke was good. Great even.
"Kory doesn't understand human social… nuances."
"I got that impression."
Another block of quiet. Then, she spoke again, still not looking at him. "You look… nice."
He glanced at her. A slight blush was visible on her cheek even in the dashboard lights. "You look…really nice, Rachel."
"...thank you." Quiet again. "It's…a bit weird that you know I'm Rachel and Raven."
"I, uh, guess only other superheroes know."
"Mhm. Can't say who if you're going to ask that."
"Wasn't. I think, uh, Starfire is just too trusting."
"She is. She really is." That seemed to break a small dam. "The show should be interesting though. Zatara's abilities are… legitimate. They're not stage tricks. She manipulates actual mystical forces by speaking backwards."
"Like, real magic?"
"Yes." Rachel finally turned her head to look at him. Her violet eyes were intense in the dim light. "It's rare to see someone with her power level use it so openly for entertainment. It's… brave. Or reckless."
"Sounds cool," he said, and meant it.
An almost-smile touched her lips. "It is."
The conversation stayed light, sporadic, but the awkwardness began to thaw. They talked about the shop, about Gotham weather, about nothing important. It was progress.
He pulled up to the Monarch Theater. It was a gorgeous old building, all Art Deco arches and bright marquee lights. The sidewalk was packed with well-dressed people. For the second time in as many days, he felt underdressed. So did Rachel. He could tell with a single look. He was happy that someone else here was in the same boat.
He came around and opened her door. She took his offered hand to step out. "Mm." She didn't let go immediately as they joined the crowd flowing toward the doors.
Her hand in his felt… right. Oh so small and womanly, and yet he knew and she knew that it contained immense power. Whereas the pizza guy, he was just ordinary. Yet in this one act, they were equals. In love, in being, in everything. The pizza gave a gentle squeeze. She squeezed back, just once, before releasing it to get the ticket from her clutch.
The interior was all red velvet and gold leaf. They found their seats—good ones, in the middle about ten rows back from the stage.
As they sat down, the house lights began to dim. "Looks like were right on time," the pizza guy remarked.
"You mean late," she said jokingly, again. He snickered quietly.
The crowd's murmur dropped to an expectant hush. In the sudden, intimate darkness, he was hyper-aware of her. The warmth of her arm just inches from his on the shared armrest. The scent of her, her dress, her personality, her anxiety. She was like a mirror of him in some ways.
The heavy velvet curtain began to rise.
A single spotlight clicked on, illuminating center stage.
The Monarch Theater held its breath. The spotlight pinned Zatanna Zatara to the center of the stage, and for a long moment, she simply stood there, letting them look.
And oh, they looked.
Her outfit was a magician's tuxedo reimagined by a hedonist. The jacket was satin black, cut sharp at the waist, but it was unbuttoned, serving only as a frame for what was underneath. A white corset pushed her breasts up and together, creating a jaw-dropping shelf of cleavage that seemed to glow under the lights. The swell of each breast was so generous, so perfectly round, that the white dipped perilously low, threatening to spill over with every inhale. The corset met a short, flared skirt of the same black satin as the jacket, which swished around her thighs. Fishnet stockings sheathed her long legs, disappearing into knee-high black boots.
The pizza guy blinked twice. "Oh."
Rachel didn't blink. "Huh."
Magic practically shimmered around her.
Zatanna smiled, a flash of white teeth and red lips. "Ekat emot, esruoc!" she announced.
A grand piano at the edge of the stage lifted three feet into the air, hovered for a breathless second, and settled back down without a sound.
The audience gasped, then burst into applause.
Rachel leaned close, her whisper tinged with professional respect. "That's not a wire, by the way."
His neck nearly snapped. "S-seriously!?" he whispered, and Rachel nodded. Zatanna followed up by taking off her top hot, tossing it, and making doves fly out. One by one, dove after dove escaped and flew into the air, and the top hot? As though defying physics, he spun and returned to the top of her head. Like…like magic.
'How in the hell…?'
The pizza guy applauded. He had to.
Her next trick had her gesture to a table. There were several times and she changed every one of them in ridiculous ways. The one that caused the pizza guy to gasp was when she made a borrowed watch dissolve into rose petals that fluttered over the first three rows.
And through it all, her hips swayed with a confident rhythm. Every gesture, every turn, made her titties jiggle within the confines of the corset. The pizza guy couldn't look away. It was artistry and raw, sexual magnetism fused into one.
"She's amazing," he murmured.
"Hmph," Rachel grunted, but she was leaning forward, her analytical eyes narrowed. "That last one… the linking rings. The separation was pure sleight of hand. I can't… I can't always tell where the trick ends and the magic begins." She sounded almost annoyed, and deeply impressed.
Zatanna seemed to feel the scrutiny. At one point, her bright blue eyes scanned the audience and seemed to linger for a fraction of a second on their row, on Rachel's intense violet gaze. She winked.
Rachel actually sat back, trying to act like she wasn't trying to figure out her secrets.
"And now," Zatanna announced, her voice filling the theater without a microphone, "for my next illusion, I require a volunteer from the audience! A brave soul to assist me!"
Hands shot up. People waved, called out. Zatanna's gaze swept over them, a playful smile on her lips. It travelled past the eager faces in the front, past the waving couples…
…and landed squarely on him.
"You, sir! The handsome gentleman in the tenth row, looking wonderfully skeptical!"
A spotlight swung and blinded him. The entire theater turned to look. Rachel stiffened beside him.
"M-me?" he stammered, pointing at himself like an idiot.
"Yes, you!" Zatanna laughed, a sound like bells. "Don't be shy! Come on down!"
A path cleared as he stumbled to his feet, his heart hammering. He could feel Rachel's gaze burning into his back. He climbed the steps to the stage, the boards feeling huge and alien under his feet.
Up close, Zatanna was even more stunning. Her boobs were bigger too. He tried not to look down. He succeeded. Kudos to experience.
But wow. To think he was right in front of Zatanna. The hot babe he had seen on posters all over Gotham City. An actual celebrity! Whatever god had taken a liking to him, thank you!
"What's your name?" she asked, taking his hand. Her grip was firm, her skin soft.
"Uh…."
"Ah, it's fine! He's a fine young man and a fine volunteer!" She turned to the audience, still holding his hand. "Let's just give a round of applause for his courage!"
The applause was deafening. Zatanna led him to center stage, next to a tall, ornate wooden cabinet—a closet, really—on wheels. It was just big enough for one person. Maybe.
"Now," she said, turning to face him. They were inches apart. The spotlight made her blue eyes gleam. "This is the Cabinet of Cosmic Confusion. I'm going to step inside with you."
A murmur ran through the crowd. She opened the door. The inside was lined with black velvet, utterly dark.
"It's a bit of a tight squeeze," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone just for him. A smirk played on her lips. "We'll have to get… very close. You don't mind, do you?"
Before he could answer, she took his hand and pulled him inside. 'Oh my god, she's hugging me...!'
Sure, she didn't wrap her arms around him but it felt like one. You know, with her boobs squished against his chest? That kind of hug? A sexy hug from a busty woman? That was what this was. That was why confused it as a hug, when really, they were just tightly squeezed together. It was intimate but mostly hilarious from the crowd's perspective.
They got to see the two of them tightly squeezed together in there for a solid five seconds before the door shut.
Darkness. Complete and utter.
This close, this dark, his senses felt amplified. He swore he could see the small flash of her white teeth. The cabinet was even smaller than it looked so for him to be able to see in complete darkness meant they were crushed up against each other. He was pressed against the back wall, and she was pressed against him.
Her huge breasts crushed against his chest. The hard stays of her corset dug into him slightly, but what overwhelmed his brain were the unyielding, voluptuous melons. Her thigh slipped between his legs. Her face was so close he could feel her breath, sweet and warm, on his lips.
"S-sorry," Zatanna whispered, her voice husky in the intimate dark. Her hands came up, bracing against his chest. "Tight fit. Necessary for the trick."
"I-it's fine."
"By the way, as a magician's apology, I'll let you in on a secret..." He swore he saw her smile widen. "They're E-cups~!"
W-what. What. What?
His cock twitched and it was a miracle it didn't smack her thigh.
"Now hold still for a moment~"
He could only nod, mesmerized. Every nerve ending was on fire. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart through the layers of clothing. Her E-cups were pressed to him. Her lips were so close. If he leaned forward just an inch…
Her tongue slipped out and ran along her bottom lip. He felt it.
"I'm ready. Are you ready? Try to land on your feet, okay?"
He swallowed. "O-okay?"
He still didn't know what this trick was or what this was all about. He was still thinking about her E-cups.
"Ecalp reven," she whispered, her lips almost brushing his.
A sudden, violent lurch gripped his stomach. The world didn't spin, it flipped. Like being dropped through a trapdoor in his own soul. There was a soundless POP of pressure.
The warmth in front of him vanished. Zatanna was gone.
He was alone in the dark, disoriented. Then gravity reasserted itself—from the wrong direction.
"Whoa—!"
The door of the cabinet burst open. He tumbled out, headfirst, landing in an ungainly heap on the stage floor with a thump. The audience gasped, then roared with laughter and applause.
He blinked up, dizzy. Zatanna was standing ten feet away, near the wings, looking pristine and untouched. She spread her hands with a flourish.
"And as you can see," she announced, her voice triumphant, "the cabinet never moved! Yet our brave volunteer has been… reoriented!"
He scrambled to his feet, his face hot. The audience was eating it up. First, Zatanna appeared in a puff of smoke and then seconds later, this happened! They thought it was a brilliant trick—the closet was too small for him to turn around and there wasn't enough time either. It was poof-thud! Zatanna poofed out, the pizza guy rolled out upside-down. The mechanics baffled them.
Zatanna glided over to him, taking his hand again and raising it high. "A huge thank you to this young man here! Oh, but I suppose there is one last thing…"
She released his hand and from between her breasts, she pulled out a piece of black cloth. She let it dangle between her fingertips, smirking as it neared her face, then turned to him. The cloth started to unfold.
His face reddened.
"Your boxers, good sir?"
T-those were definitely his black boxers. Instinctively, he checked his crotch. He only felt his cock. Nothing in between. 'T-they're gone! My boxers—'
"Here you are!" Grinning, Zatanna tossed his black boxers to him and then bowed one last time. The pizza guy fumbled on what to do with them. He just stood there while the applause crescendoed into a standing ovation with laughter. Whistles and cheers filled the old theater. Zatanna bowed deeply, the motion making her bust sway enticingly.
As she rose, she caught his eye. Zatanna winked, and then, clearly, silently, she mouthed two words.
"Come backstage."
His heart skipped a beat. She winked a second time before turning to drink in the adoration of the crowd.
He stumbled off the stage, boxers in hand, cheeks red. He found his way back to the aisle. Rachel was standing with the applauding crowd, but her eyes were on him.
He slid into his seat, his mind reeling. He shoved his boxers into his pocket. Rachel quickly sat down next to him.
"She really stole your boxers, huh?" Rachel murmured.
"Y-yeah…"
"Mm." He could not tell if she was mad or jealous or in awe or confused. Literally, he could not register anything from Rachel.
The ovation finally died down. The house lights came up. In ten minutes time, the the crowd began to chatter excitedly, filing out. Some folks stopped on their way to congratulate the pizza guy.
"Haha, hope you're not really going commando," remarked an older gentleman. He could only nod. This wasn't a joke, he WAS going commando.
'All because of her…'
Rachel smiled here and there when people approached him. It was awkward when many of them thought it was fake. It wasn't.
"R-right, um, Rachel, should we go?" the pizza guy asked.
Theeen her smile faded, replaced by a more guarded look. "...I'm not stupid."
"Huh?"
"She spoke to you. At the end."
He hesitated. "She… thanked me. That's all."
"She mouthed something else." Rachel's gaze was like a laser. "She invited you backstage."
There was no point lying. The empath would sense it. "…Yeah." Dammit, he didn't want to offend his date. It'd be weird if he went to the back to visit a rich celebrity woman with big boobs like that, right? A guy would feel the same way if his girl was invited "backstage" by a male performer. The pizza guy tried to be the stand up guy but…
Rachel. She looked away, toward the now-empty stage. The silence between them stretched, filled with the rustling of the departing crowd and the thrum of his own pulse.
Finally, Rachel stood, smoothing her black dress. "You should go." Her voice was flat, controlled. "It's not every day a magician of her caliber gives a backstage pass."
She wasn't looking at him. He stood, unsure. "Rachel…"
"I'll get a cab," she said, already turning toward the aisle. She paused, glancing back over her shoulder. Her expression was a complex mix of resignation, curiosity, and something else he couldn't name.
"No."
"H-huh?"
"You should come with me. We can get an autograph together or something."
"I'm not…interested in autographs."
"Okay then just wait outside. I won't be long." He smiled. "I want to drive you back. Would be rude if I didn't."
"That's…" Rachel let out a breath and then a small smile. "You won't let this go, will you?"
"I'm a delivery man. It's what I do."
She huffed again, this time with a bigger smile. She didn't say it but she agreed. Mirroring herself, together, they headed for the side door marked 'ARTISTS ONLY'. The security guards let them both in.
The hallway behind the stage was narrow and lit by bare bulbs. Near the end, he saw a star on a door, Zatanna's name written in elegant script.
He raised his hand to knock.
The door swung open before his knuckles touched wood.
Zatanna stood there, her jacket gone. The white corset was all that covered and showcased the delicious, breathtaking valley of her cleavage. Her only bit of modesty was also what made her immodest. She leaned against the doorframe, a glass of amber liquid in one hand, her blue eyes sparkling with triumph and something hotter.
"I was wondering if you'd get lost." Zatanna took a sip and glanced over at Rachel. "Oh, and you brought a friend."
"I, uh, hope that's okay."
"It's fine. I did take your boxers after all~" Zatanna smiled with dimples and gestured them inside. "Please. Come in."