FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

For Mightygood Man, it was time to wind down yet another perfect day. A day of being a superhero, of protecting citizens from all sort of pernicious threats, cuffing those threats soundly around the head and neck, delivering them gift-wrapped to the authorities, and basking in the adoration of everyone who had witnessed his daring heroics. Yes, a fine day indeed, one of those days that made the few sacrifices becoming a superhero had required absolutely worth it.

True, becoming a superhero (or villain, for that matter), wasn't the easiest process. In the world where the city he patrolled resided, such things weren't accomplished through science or random mutation. In fact, the human body, in its unmodified form, seemed wholly incapable of performing super-style feats unassisted - sure, a burst of adrenaline might get someone to lift a car, but to do anything impressive, bodies had to be... modified in order to become a reservoir for those skills.

Those reservoirs, though, could only be granted by a shadowy group of supernatural entities that didn't exactly advertise where they could be found. So, if you wanted to become one, first you had to somehow track one down. Then you had to convince them you were worthy of the conversion, pledge your fealty to them and whatever concepts they espoused, and forever relinquish the possibility of becoming human again. And then, if you passed all the hurdles and they felt like it, a transformation would occur, and a new super-powered person would rise.

He'd wanted it badly enough that he'd spent the better part of three years tracking down Bakoleth, a three-headed jaguar with eyes that spit fire. All but a few of the truly shadowed ones seemed to have animalistic affinities of some form or other, perhaps tied back to a time when animals alone roamed the planet. Whatever those affinities, though, the transformations tended to follow along with the forms of the supernatural entities making the pact, and taking on certain aspects of a sleek, muscular big cat had seemed the best option for a young Albert Argens. It had taken several more months in the jungle, though, with nothing but a loincloth and hand-sharpened spear, before he'd finally earned the thing's favor.

After all that, the transformation itself had been quick and almost anticlimactic: he'd agreed to the pact, signing it in his own blood, and then the blood had flashed blindingly bright off of the page. By the time he'd blinked his vision all the way back, the change was complete. Even then, it hadn't been horrendously body-twisting - he was still basically a bipedal humanoid, and even though the bones and musculature on his face had been morphed enough to conjure up a clearly panther-like image, enough remained that his face was still recognizable enough as his own. Sure, his ears had moved to the top of his head in a feline configuration, and he'd gained a long, snapping tail that defied prehensibility or conscious control, but it wasn't that bad. Even the full-body coat of fur that came with it, like in most transformations, didn't extend to a fully animalistic length or density - it was probably even shorter than his previous body hair, pushing up maybe three or four millimeters above his skin, enough to give the feeling of fur but not enough to be aggravatingly hot or interfere with clothing, even the stretchy, skintight variety that superheroes tended to prefer.

After a long day of superheroing, in fact, his muscle-defining outfit, done up in blue and red (supposedly the colors of truth and virtue), felt just as comfortable as the moment he'd pulled it on, with not a tuft of diminutive fur feeling out of place. That being said, it was a bit showy, and he certainly wouldn't mind stripping it off in the locker room and returning to his street clothes. At least he hadn't gone with the completely unified form of the thing, with a hidden zipper down the back - you needed someone else around to help get into and out of those ones, and going to the bathroom on mission... not super-practical. The one he wore had a top and bottom, although it came together without seams to appear nearly as uniform as the other type, the two sides held together with internal grippers that were essentially a more advanced and workable form of velcro. Looked just about the same as the regular suit, and held together through even the most intense fisticuffs, but were far easier to get out of at the end of the day.

He'd managed to disconnect the top, and peel the fur-tight shirt away from his massive pecs and up over his head, rolling the snug sleeves off of his arms. Then, of course, it was time to pull the thing back from the inside-out, tangled mess that usually resulted from stripping it off and hang it up, as smoothed and straightened as such an article of clothing could be, back in his locker. The pants (or tights, maybe leggings technically) would have been next, but as he was reaching down for the waistband, he heard something unusual - even discordant.

It was the sound of someone crying - specifically, the sound of a woman. Not exactly surprising, as the lockers weren't separated into completely different rooms, just two banks on each side of the room obscuring a long bench and changing area in between, and showers beyond that. The lockers blocked any view of the other side, so men changed on one side and women the other. Sound traveled well enough, though, so it was possible to pick out snippets of conversations that happened on the other side - or entire conversations, for someone with the sort of hyper-acute hearing he'd been granted. Not that he often listened in, as such a thing would have been rude and improper, but this was another matter - if someone was crying, it meant that someone on his team was hurt or suffering. In that sense, he lived up to his name - he was mighty, true, but also considered himself to be good, and when one of his colleagues was hurting, he would do what was necessary to fix whatever problem they had, and take down with merciless justice whoever had dared to hurt them in the first place.

In that moment, hearing her pain, he didn't bother to consider the possibility of shirtless impropriety, instead dropping everything else he was thinking about and padding over to the other side of the lockers. There wasn't going to be much of a stir if he did, anyway - he'd gotten back late, and the changing room had already mostly emptied out, with the exception of one guy splashing around in the shower. His hearing, in fact, was sure that whatever woman on the other side was alone, with no one there even to comfort her - which made his presence all the more urgent and necessary.

Still, he didn't want to surprise her - sobs weren't speech, and usually weren't clear enough to identify an individual from sound alone. Depending on who it was, their reactions could vary wildly, and while he could certainly withstand it, Mightygood Man wasn't all that enthusiastic about getting super-punched in the face... or super-kneed in the balls.

He slowly leaned past the bank of lockers, poking his head around - and sure enough, the long bench was completely unoccupied, save for one.

Sexytime Lass was sitting on the bench, leaning over, head in her hands and sobbing heavily. She was still in her superhero outfit, being one of the few women who hadn't opted for the full, neck-to-toes unified spandex. Instead, she wore leggings that extended to mid-calf, and a spandex top not all that dissimilar to a sports bra, revealing a golden-furred midriff in between the matched set of pink fabric edged and decorated in bedazzled rhinestone hearts. Normally, it was a sight that instantly brought Mightygood Man an intense sort of superheroic excitement - well, maybe not heroic, but excitement nonetheless. She looked distraught, though, exhausted and worn down, and that inherent goodness that he truly believed resided within him managed to shoot down all those thoughts, replacing them with a sense of compassion and desire to comfort her.

Usually, he was near-silent, but her hearing was excellent as well, and she poked her head out from between her arms and glanced over at him. She'd been transformed by some sort of canine entity, and her face was clearly patterned enough after a retriever, sans the exaggerated muzzle. It did make her look incredibly cute, though, with a puppy-like nose and wide, dark eyes. In this case, though, her eyes were wet and glistening, rivulets running down and matting the fur on her cheeks. Overall, though, her face didn't project despair, so much as a sadness nearly overtaken with frustration and anger.

"Hey, Lass, I, uh... I heard you crying, and if there's anything I can do to help..."

"Of course you did," she replied, snarling, snapping her head back to look down at her own feet. "I can't even wallow in my own misery without the humiliation of a man interpreting it as weakness and offering to help a damsel in such obvious distress. Did I ask for your sympathy?"

Mightygood let his mouth gape for a moment, actually stunned into silence by the outburst. Sexytime Lass was usually on an even keel, sometimes even optimistic, although he had to admit he'd rarely heard her at all in the locker room after missions, especially ones in which she'd fully engaged her talents. Sure, maybe she'd seemed a little tense the last couple of times out, but it was rare to hear her react so forcefully, especially towards a man.

"That's, um... I truly didn't mean any offense. You know how I am - if someone is in pain, it's in my nature to help. It has nothing to do with you being a woman - if you were male, and doing the same, I'd feel for you too. I really didn't mean to imply that you were weak. All I knew was that you were suffering, and I couldn't let that stand."

Sexytime Lass looked back over, sighing as she wiped some of the tears away. "You really are a caricature, aren't you? Right out of the comic books, almost. Defender of justice, the downtrodden, whatever... strong and in charge. No one ever doing anything to you. Do you ever even stop to consider what it means to be me? What I have to go through to do my job?"

"I... that is to say, you are an honored and valuable member of the team, and your particular skill set has been absolutely essential in bringing about the defeat and capture of countless dangerous individuals, saving the lives of countless scores of innocent civilians. Even in times when our others were defeated, you were able to emerge victorious, and for that you have all of our eternal gratitude."

"What, did you grab that directly from a press release or something? And seriously... countless dangerous individuals?" she replied, her face scrunching up with indignation. "Countless male individuals, you mean..."

"Be that as it may, what you do-"

"What I do? What I do? Have you ever thought, for one moment, about what it is I do, and what it means?"

"Well, I-"

"And is it even what I do that matters, or is it what's done to me? What about that?"

"I, um, I mean, not being female, I can't really know what it would entail exactly, and as a guy, I... shouldn't say any more about that..."

"Oh, and why not? Too principled to admit you get off on it like some of our esteemed colleagues? My superpower, if you can even call it that, is to do something to guys so they drop literally everything else that they're doing, make a beeline for me, pull my suit down around my thighs, and do me for as long as their bodies can stand it! Do you have any idea what it's like to have to endure that? To feel that inside me? To have to wear this stupid getup because if I wear a regular supersuit, I get it ripped off me every mission and have to head back humiliatingly stripped on top of everything else?"

"No, obviously not, but I just figured you were okay with it, since that was your thing..."

"How would I be okay with it? Yes, I do it. I make that sacrifice when your sorry behind gets kicked and I'm the only one left to make it happen. Yes, I know how useful it is, because it can stun-lock even the most powerful male supervillain and give everyone enough time to recover and contain them. But what I have to endure... think about it! My job is getting fucked by every supervillain in this city! To have a hideous, violating part of them inside me! It's like being a, a prostitute to the worst, shittiest people in the entire city! And you think it's not gonna get to me?"

"It... it hasn't before, not really, at least not that I heard, so I just assumed..."

"Because you didn't even think about it! Seriously, what if it was you? What if that was your talent? What if instead of your super strength or super-whatever, your talent involved compelling a guy to shove you up against the wall and just pound your ass for fifteen minutes straight? Violating you, making you sore, wearing you out, and then spitting his jizz all over your rectum? And know, horribly, that part of your so-called talent means that you can't stop or resist what they're doing to you, and that even your colleagues can't subdue the guy, or even get him to disengage at all, until he's busted his nut inside you? Go through that, and then tell me how much of an awesome asset your so-called superpower is!"

"J-jeez, I..." Mightygood tried to respond, feeling a lot less like a superhero and a lot more like a bumbling Albert who had, well-meaning or not, managed to not just stick his foot in his mouth, but work it a good way down his throat to boot. Putting it like that, though, it was hard not to see her point - if he'd been stuck in that position, defeating supervillains by having them ramming his ass... of course, it wouldn't be any different for a woman, and probably even worse somehow. Maybe it had been the fact that she'd seemed to take it in stride that had convinced him that it was just a part of her superhero routine, but...

"If it... if it takes that much of a toll on you, then why do you do it? It's not like we're in the military or something, and if it's bothering you that much you could work somewhere else. You're famous enough with this that there are all sorts of places that would probably hire you just to stand around and let your famousness rub off on them..."

"Yeah, famous for being the biggest super-slut on the planet, right? Fuck... and you know what the worst part of it is? I actually thought I didn't mind. I actually thought I could justify all that humiliation with the good I was doing. But when my reputation is so fucked up that even my colleagues are fucking using me... I just can't take it, you know?"

"Wait... back up a sec. What do you mean, our colleagues are using you?"

"Oh, really, you don't know, with the way you guys brag to each other right over there? You seriously expect me to believe that Colonel Ram hasn't said anything to you at all?"

"Actually... we haven't talked for a while, really. Seriously, though, if he did something to you-"

"Of course he did something to me! Do you know that scum-sucker actually keeps some sort of cloaking camera-drone thing on his utility belt? It's bad enough when I can't do what I do out of sight, and some jerk civilian grabs some low-res cellphone vid of a supervillain putting it to me, but that fucker has a cache of graphic, HD close-ups of every humiliating time he's witnessed! A fact that he let me know about a month ago, along with a promise to leak them all over the internet if I didn't... if I didn't use my powers directly on him, with the obvious results. And that... somehow, it's actually worse than being raped, because I know it's my power behind it. When it's a villain who I'm actually stopping, when that humiliation is saving lives... that's something else, but when it's part of me being used... I can't fucking stand it any more. I just can't..."

"That's, I... I can hardly believe it. We're on the same team, the same side! I won't deny that Ram can be a jerk, but to go that far..."

"You can hardly believe it, huh? Fine, then. Believe what you want. Figures all you men would stick together, really..."

"But I-"

"Save it. It's not your life that jerk's screwing over. On top of everything else... I don't know what I'm gonna do. What I don't need, though, is your fake sympathy if you're not even going to try and believe me. You know what? Just... let me be, all right? At least my tears are fucking honest..."

He wanted to say something more, obviously. He wanted to say that he could believe her, that he should... but he also knew Colonel Ram, or at least thought he did, and the accusation... honestly, he didn't know what to think. When he stayed there, though, torn with indecision, Sexytime Lass kept glaring at him, and after a few moments more he retreated back to the other side of the locker room to finish changing and try to mull things over.

When he returned, though, there wasn't much time to think, as the sound of the shower cut off as he was walking over. By the time he got back to his locker, he could already see someone approaching out of the corner of his eye. As he turned to look, though, he felt his chest clench with surprise - the man who had been showering, and who was now casually wandering over with a towel wrapped around his waist, was Colonel Ram himself.

Not that the man was actual military - somehow Mightygood Man had the feeling that the good Colonel wouldn't have been able to handle the structure and discipline involved. Not that the man wasn't a skilled combatant - true enough to go along with his somewhat ram-like form, he had no compunctions about charging into battle, and was more often than not capable of, well, bulling his way through. He even used the actual, miniature ram horns that emerged from above his temples to knock skulls with particularly obstinate supervillains. The fact that his short fur curled and coiled in a way that was as much reminiscent of a poodle as it was of wool aside, there was no questioning his manliness, embodied in his strong physical form - and, less interestingly, in his attendant behavior and mannerisms.

Nevertheless, his presence there automatically got Mightygood thinking about the circumstances. He'd come into the locker room, a room that had been empty, apart from the two of them. Ram had just showered at the facility, something he rarely did, unless something specific happened... and the Lass had been hunched over, like she was trying to protect or hide herself. It was easy to look at that and come to the conclusion that she'd been talking about an event that was much more current than she'd let on.

And yet... he couldn't just take her word for it. Neither, though, could he just ask Ram outright, in an accusing tone, as he'd just deny it - and then who knew how it would shake out. Then again, Ram didn't know what he knew, and if he was coming over and greeting him warmly, looking to talk between guys, then...

"Hey, my man! Didn't know you were still here!" Ram clapped him solidly on the back in his preferred physical method of introduction, grinning widely. Even with the sheep-influenced lines that didn't exactly enhance his face, he was still handsome enough underneath it, with plenty of masculine angles that gave his visage a incongruously predatory appearance. "Good job today, huh? Smacked that bastard so hard he'll probably have to time-travel into next week to track down the rest of his teeth! I fuckin' love it when they decide to resist..."

"Yeah, no kidding..." Not that Mightygood particularly minded it, either.

"Fuck yeah, you mean! Trust me when I say we are gonna get seriously drunk tonight. Hell, it's the only way to get you to party, am I right?"

"Er, I guess..." Now, how to play it? "Oh yeah, I think I saw the Lass walk in a little while ago. I gotta say, that uniform..."

"Oh, yeah, I mean, damn! That ass, in those tight little pants... bounce a quarter off that, no problem. She is one sexy piece, for sure. And the way she works... you know what I mean, right? I tell you what, I could watch her work for days and days, man. I'd even be tempted to just sit back one time and let her take all comers, watch them go at her until they couldn't even stand - that shit right there would put any porn start to shame, even the super ones..."

"Yeah, that would be... something else, for sure..."

"Oh, come on, don't tell me you don't get a serious super-bulge when she busts out her skills, man! Shit, every single guy on the team who's gone on a mission with her comes back with a week of fun at least locked in the ol' spank bank. And let me tell you, those skills? They're the real deal. You can't say you've had sex until she hooks that magic in there, and then... it's like you're an animal, man, and not just this transformed-up shit. Like you've got manly fire shooting through your veins. In that moment, you know, just know, that she's yours, and then you fucking make it happen, and there's not a thing in the world, not even her, that can stop you. Once you've felt it, you know it's the biggest power rush there is - fuck, there are probably people out there who become supervillains just in the hope that she'll be the one to take them down..."

"Wait, you're telling me that... you let her use that? On you?"

"Let her? Man, I tell her! Not like she's gonna say no to me, right? I mean, fuck, not a hot chick on the planet who's gonna say no to me. And even if she did... hey, I'm a man, and a fucking superhero. Not the kind of person who's gonna take no for an answer."

Ram was actually starting to sound a little pissed, although that didn't exactly seem to jibe with the fact that the front of his towel was starting to tent out in a way that Mightygood wasn't exactly comfortable with.

"Do you know she actually turned me down at first? Me. Crazy, right? But hey, a bitch is a bitch, and they always give it up one way or another, so I got her to come around. Been having her for a while now, but... hey, if you're interested, I bet I can get her to put the whammy on you too. Bros before hos, right?"

"That's, um... you actually just admit it? That you did something to make her fuck you?"

"Hey, c'mon! That's what guys do, right? If there's pussy to be had, we want to have it. I've seen you hit on plenty of our, ah, esteemed female colleagues, and on at least one occasion a little more than that, am I right? Sure, I had to get a little creative with her, but considering you're the guy who spiked the punch with supernatural rum last halloween to make things more 'fun,' it's not like you're above that kind of thing..."

"Excuse me? How exactly is spiking everyone's punch, punch I drank myself, the same as blackmail?"

"Means to an end, man, just like that. We both did something in the hopes of getting women to spread their legs, and what do you know, they did! What, don't tell me you're actually pissed off about that?"

"There's a big difference between loosening someone up a little, and threatening to ruin their lives unless they let you fuck them! Do you honestly not know the difference between what I did and actually raping someone?"

"Really, you're going to start throwing the R-word around? What, did Sexytime Lass start bitching about it or something just to get you riled up? Yeah, I stuck it to her but good. So what? Her pussy's played host to a who's who of the worst fucking scumbags in this city. You ask me, she oughta be thankful that she gets to fuck a guy with a little more class..."

"You... I didn't even want to believe it at first, you know? I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt... but you really are a piece of shit."

"Man, she really did get to you, didn't she? What... you're going to turn this into some heroics or something? You're going to come at me and avenge her honor? And then, let me guess... you're going to go back to her, the knight in shining armor on his white fucking horse, and what, she's going to bend over gracefully for her loving savior? Get real, man! She's a fucking slut. You and I both know it. Maybe I had to get a little extreme, because she's just stubborn when it comes to me for some reason, but I bet that if you wanted her, all you'd have to do is get her to name a price. She whores herself out in the name of justice, sure she'd do the same for a buck or two..."

"You take that back, you son of a bitch!"

"Oooh, how chivalrous-" Ram started to say, sarcasm practically dripping from his mouth, but he cut off rather quickly when Mightygood planted the business end of his knuckles smack-dab in the center of it.

Not that the punch particularly did much - as Ram was generally both super strong and super durable, the power of Mightygood's punch was enough to get him to take notice, but hardly enough to reel him, especially considering that one of his animalistic bonuses was an especially-armored head.

Needless to say, he took a return swing, but Mightygood's catlike grace meant that he was able to dodge the wild swing easily, even with his masculine bulk. Ram's second punch, though, was considerably more calculated, swinging in the direction that Mightygood was dodging in, and connected solidly against his side. Super strength against super durability, again, but it was enough to sting, for sure.

They didn't bother talking any further - after all, when it came to disagreements, they were far more accustomed to using their fists. While it might have been an ultimately futile punch-up, considering how well their skills were balanced, there was something satisfying about punching Ram's smug asshole face on general principle. Sure, he was ticked off that the guy had messed with one of the women on their team, but once the fight kicked off, the fight itself became far more important than whatever cause had set it off. And if there was one thing that Mightygood Man valued more than anything else, it was settling into a fight and punching his way to a solid victory.

He'd only managed to land a few solid hits on Ram's jaw, though, and absorbed a couple in return, when a cutting voice sounded from behind them. It was quite a distinctive one, cutting between relatively feminine, deep basso profundo, and shrill, wavering falsetto, like the vocal chords of a boy going through the longest and most awkward puberty ever. It was a voice, in fact, that could only belong to one possible person.

"Boys, boys, boys... I see the testosterone poisoning is in full effect today..."

Both of them paused at the sound, glancing over uncomfortably at the familiar presence of The Genderator.

Mightygood was fairly certain that he'd never seen The Genderator out of... his costume? Hers? Its? Theirs? Mightygood wasn't ever sure which pronoun to use, and The Genderator, or Gen as they hated to be called, certainly hadn't volunteered one to make things easier. And it wasn't like it was easy to tell, even with the skintight uniform they were always wearing, as they seemed to always be changing between one gender or another - contours and angles subtly shifting, thigh gap swelling out into a full masculine bulge before retreating back again, breasts that almost seemed to breathe in their own strange rhythm as they constantly stretched and shrank on Gen's chest. Even the lines of Gen's face straightened and curved, from the gaunt, rough-edged, angular masculinity of a terrifyingly rugged man, to the gentle softness of an icily beautiful woman.

What fur they had was stark grey and very thin, a dusting more than anything, and the one part of them that wasn't seemingly undergoing constant change was the long, flexible tail that honestly acted like a snake more than anything else, coiling and uncoiling when it wasn't flicking out behind them with an almost palpable menace. Taken all together, it was a package that Mightygood found intensely unsettling, although he felt ashamed of himself every time he thought that. Honestly, though, it wasn't the constantly-shifting genders that bothered him, so much as the cold, grey, unblinking eyes that seemed to bore right into him, and a tail that he was halfway convinced had a mind of its own and a vicious agenda against him. Apart from those things, actually, Gen was usually more than pleasant, but the bemused expression on their face seemed to be cut this time with something harder - although the shifting lines made it considerably tougher to tell.

"Hey, butt out, you half-dick jerk! This is a fight between fucking men!" Ram, as always, wasn't exactly the picture of politeness.

"Is that so? If this is somehow actually about men fucking, I'm sure I would have liked an earlier invitation..."

"Hey, you know that's not what this is-"

"Oh, I know exactly what this is. You see, I've been here for a bit now, and caught the rest of your conversation... while having a brief one with the Lass in question. Mightygood, your lack of subtlety never ceases to amaze me, and Ram... I'd say that I thought better of you, but I don't think I ever have. Both your personalities, quite frankly, are appalling, but I do think the Colonel gets the award this time. A lack of subtlety doesn't rise to the level of criminality, after all."

"Crimin... what, you're gonna gang up on me, too? You clueless fucksticks! Does anyone here actually believe that she didn't want it?"

The Genderator leaned in, flashing a grin with a surprising amount of sharp, glisteningly white teeth, their face momentarily locked in its most dramatically masculine mode. "Hmm... so you actually think she did. That does pose an interesting question, though, doesn't it? If your logical definition is that if someone who's fucked by someone else automatically wants it by virtue of being fucked... wouldn't that mean that if Mightygood over here bent you over and fucked you silly, that means you must have wanted it? Yearned for it even, so desperately and passionately..."

"What? You... you sick fucking bitchbastard! How the fuck could you ever think I'd want that? I'm straight, not whatever the fuck you are!"

"I'm just using your logic, Colonel... surely you wouldn't be hypocritical, now would you? Hypocrisy just isn't all that heroic..."

"Seriously, fuck you!"

"Fuck me? No, my dear Colonel, not even if you paid. That... was what you were suggesting for the Lass in question, wasn't it? Lass... such a strange name for a female. Although, no worse than referring to oneself as a Mightygood Man, like the example standing next to you. But then again... you know, it's actually curious. I think of the name Ram, and the first character that comes to mind is a beautiful young woman with a vibrant bowl-style haircut and the cutest little maid uniform..."

"Okay, what the fuck are you even talking about any more?"

"Just a casual observation, but it ties into this fascinating little predicament. Perhaps it would be interesting to put your fascinatingly twisted logic to the test. Of course, being straight, obviously there's one clear way to make that happen. After all, if you're straight, what configuration be required to interface with someone who's so clearly a man it's even in his name?"

It only took a moment for Colonel Ram to consider what the Genderator had said, and then an appalled expression snapped instantly onto his face. "You... you wouldn't fucking dare!"

"Dare? I hardly need to. Why build up such a sense of drama for something that's over in a flash?"

"You-"

"Literally, Colonel..."

The Genderator's tail tightened into a coil by their side, then snapped out, unspooling like a snake lunging to strike. The tail halted a foot in front of the Colonel, though, seeming to freeze for a moment - and then erupted in a flash of blinding light that left Mightygood Man stumbling back, desperately blinking as scattered afterimages danced around obscuringly in his vision.

They didn't have to clear, though, to hear Colonel Ram yelling, at a considerably higher pitch than he had before.

"You complete and total bitch! How dare you take away Colonel Junior!"

"You... really named your penis that? Y'know, this is going to be even more fun than I thought..."

"A-and you replaced it with, with-"

"You have seen me in action, you know. That's... kind of what I do."

Mightygood Man, of course, was more than familiar with The Genderator's skillset, although not so much from experiencing it himself as seeing it happen to others. Gen possessed, unsurprisingly, some sort of gender magic, and with a flick of the tail, they could change a person from their current physical sex into... theoretically any configuration, or so Gen claimed, although Mightygood had only seen them flip people between the two major ones. And it wasn't just a basic swap, either, like swapping out someone's cock for a pussy while leaving everything else intact - apparently, Gen also claimed, the magic swapped things to such an extent that the affected person was given the form they would have had if they'd grown up as that sex from the beginning.

In Colonel Ram's case, at least, that claim seemed more than reasonable. The first thing that Mightygood noticed as his vision cleared was that Ram, in his - her - shock, had failed to hold the towel in place around her waist. It now lay in a heap on the ground in front of her, and as Ram was too busy angrily gesticulating in The Genderator's direction, her hands hadn't been put to use covering up her thoroughly transformed body.

True, since it was still the body of someone anthropomorphically transformed, the change wasn't quite as starkly revealing, as Ram's tight coils of fur obscured much of it. The fur, however, couldn't disguise the fact that she'd dropped several inches in height and at least a couple in her biceps, and the overall shape of her body had gone from Ram's boxy, uninteresting masculinity to something with far more alluring curves - especially the particularly dramatic ones that transitioned from a trim waist to flared, incredibly feminine hips. And that, of course, didn't even speak to the breasts, somehow perfectly balanced for Ram's body while being at least a cup size bigger than what Mightygood would have anticipated, a distinct and pleasant upgrade over Ram's usual manly muscles. And while the fur did hide most of it, it didn't extend quite far enough to cover up the pink tips of her nipples - or the slightest blush of pink peeping out through the tuft of fur between her legs.

Admittedly, Mightygood Man wasn't entirely sure what to think about Ram's new appearance, and the look of indignant fury on her face didn't exactly encourage a more sexual assessment of her female form. That being said, other parts of Mightygood didn't particularly care about the logic of it, and he could already feel himself straining against his superheroic tights - being as tough as he was, he'd never bothered to invest in a superheroic, well, cup, but the side effect of that meant that while in uniform, any arousal on his part became more than bulgingly obvious. Not that such a thing usually happened in battle, even when Sexytime Lass was involved, but in this case the arousal was obviously there, and Mightygood was more than aware of how awkward it was - Gen was looking between the two of them, smirking, and Ram was glaring at him, like she was pissed he could even be aroused by her predicament. Hey, if the situations were reversed, Ram would probably be doing the same thing, so who was she to be indignant?

"Well, then... now that all the players are on the stage, I do think it's time to bring out the... woman of the hour, so to speak."

She nodded over towards the end of the row of lockers - and a moment later, emerging from them with fury flashing from her eyes and a narrow, angry grin on her muzzle, was Sexytime Lass. She walked over purposefully, and although her visage wavered a little when she first saw Ram's face, once she noticed Ram's current configuration, her expression returned, topped with an extra edge of viciousness.

"You see, I had a productive conversation with her while the two of you were punching each other. A conversation in which I rightly pointed out that it made no sense for her to be suffering. After all, she had done nothing wrong. If there was any suffering to be meted out, it really should be directed at the person who caused it in the first place. Vengeance is a big part of superheroics, considering it's the basis behind vigilantism in the first place, so... I suggested a plan, and while the Lass usually isn't furious enough to agree to such things, this time I guess the wound was just fresh enough..."

"Oh, and what's your stupid plan? To just stand here and what, fucking humiliate me? It's not like another woman is going to do anything to me, and we all know that Gen is too much of a coward to do anything with a male form even if it could keep one in place!"

Gen just smirked again. "Weren't you listening? I already told you what's going to happen. Mightygood Man there is going to bend you over, and then you, Ram, are going to be really, really fucked."

"W-what?" Mightygood Man replied, stunned as the suggestion sunk in, but Ram just looked even more pissed before letting out a sarcastic laugh.

"Seriously? Fucking Mightygood Man, the paragon of fucking virtue? You really think he'd go along with something that fucked up? Sure, for honor's sake, he might punch the crap out of me, but he'd never cross that fucking line. I mean, now that I'm a woman, you probably couldn't even get him to punch me! Next time you think up a brilliant plan, maybe think it through all the way, hmm?"

"I hate to say it, considering how screwed up this situation is, but Colonel Ram is right. My... involuntary reaction to seeing a naked woman aside, what Ram did was wrong, but I'm not going to wrong her in return. It doesn't balance things out, and even if it did, I'd still be somehow to blame. If you want me to haul him off and bring him to justice, the right way, I'll do that without a second thought, but what you're suggesting... I simply couldn't do it."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Sexytime Lass replied, her tone strangely flat. "You know what I can do..."

"Huh?" Mightygood looked over at her, confused. "I know what your power is, of course, but... that doesn't make any sense. Why would you use it on me, especially now? Surely you don't want me to have sex with you..."

"Ah... that's the thing, isn't it?" The Genderator interjected. "I guess you two really don't know the extent of our dear Lass's powers..."

"Er, aren't they kind of obvious?"

"Not quite as much as you'd think, actually. You see, she really is quite self-sacrificing, when you consider the fact that she doesn't need to be."

"Doesn't... need to?"

"Well, the thing about her powers is... they're quite specific. Once a man is zapped by them, they immediately vector over to the woman who is targeted - who has a specific energy around her that acts as the lure to draw them in. By default, that energy resides with the Lass herself, and so any males she strikes make a beeline for her. However, with a different kind of zap, she can throw that lure, that tag, onto any woman in her line of sight - other superheroes, or bystanders, or even female supervillains. She could put that rape off onto others, sparing her own dignity, and continuing to fight in some other way. But no - she's usually far too conscientious and self-sacrificing, and while she could easily share the load with others, she shoulders the entire burden herself. You'd think that others would be appreciative of such a tremendous sacrifice... but no, of course you see fit to simply call her a slut, assume she enjoys it, and leave it at that, never once considering what she endures for your sake. Or worse, causing her to endure even more. This time, though, I think she understands that some... unburdening would be welcome. And yes, Colonel Ram, your current transformation is enough to easily receive that particular sort of energy. Which means that all she has to do is zap you first, then zap our friend Mightygood here, and you get the entire Sexytime experience all to yourself..."

"Y-you're both nuts!" Ram replied, actually looking slightly fearful, and finally bringing her arms up to cover her breasts and crotch as the troublesome situation of her nakedness really sank in. It was Mightygood, though, who actually looked the most horrified, immediately turning to Sexytime Lass and pleading with her.

"I... I know what I've said before, but this kind of revenge isn't the answer! I know that, in a certain way, maybe Ram might deserve it, but to make me do that, to make me abuse her, rape her... I'm one of the good guys here, you know that! You can't use your powers to turn me into a, a villain, just to get some sort of sick revenge! I can't possibly allow you to do this!"

"And how could you stop me?" Sexytime Lass replied, glaring at him with scorn. "I could zap the both of you before you could even get within striking distance."

"But... why me, even? I've never done anything to you! And The Genderator could convert you into a guy just as easily, if you really want to stick it to Ram so badly..."

"Oh, we talked about that. The problem is, for whatever reason, my sexytime powers only work if I'm female, and for that fuckface, a strap-on just isn't enough. He's getting the full treatment, and considering you're the only other person here with a full-time dick, you're it."

"But you can't, please! You can't make me do something evil like that! You can't just use your powers and make me rape her!"

"Is that so? The ever-great, ever-moral Mightygood Man couldn't ever possibly rape anyone?" she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe we ought to go and ask the Twintail Twins about that."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Like you don't remember. I found them, you know? I found them in a fucking utility closet after the debacle that was last year's Halloween party. A party during which, I might add, Colonel Ram didn't even bother to have me zap him before grabbing me. I was already messed up from that, and then I found them, sobbing, the skirts of their witch costumes half-ripped and their panties missing. They told me, then and there, what you did, so don't act so high and mighty!"

"What I did? As I seemed to recall, they all but threw themselves at me!"

"Threw themselves? More like collapsed into your arms! I saw them before, after they'd had your fucking punch - they were so drunk it was a miracle they were still upright. If they even looked like they agreed to anything, they certainly weren't in their right mind when they did!"

"Hey, it's not like I could read their minds! Besides, I was drunk too, and it's not like either one of them said no..."

"Right. Because they fucking couldn't, not in that state! I saw you, too. You weren't nearly that drunk. You knew what you were doing and what you wanted. And when they were too drunk to resist, you took it."

"That's not-" Mightygood tried to argue, but cut himself short when Sexytime Lass bared her teeth, showing a vicious canine-flashing grin that looked downright incongruous on her usually cute face.

"But hey, you know what? In just a second, you're gonna see exactly what it feels like when you can't say no." She looked over at Ram, fixing her with the same intense glare. "Something that's gonna apply to both of you equally..."

"Lass, seriously! Think about what you're doing!"

"Oh, I have thought about it, and The Genderator finally opened my eyes. Whether I cry, or scream, or complain, Ram's never going to stop. Not while he can force me. Which is why there's going to be some leverage of my own."

She reached into her uniform top, right between her breasts, and the gesture was bizarre enough that even Ram stared at it, transfixed. A moment later, though, she brought her hand back up, opening her fingers to reveal a robotic micro-drone, which spun up out of her hand on its tiny copter blades and hovered in the air, the black glint of its camera lens panning back and forth.

"Yeah, Ram, that's right. You're not going to be the only one with a nice little trove of HD video. Even if you don't learn your lesson from what's about to happen to you, I figure having this hanging over your head, something that can burst your masculine image in front of the entire world, ought to keep you in check. And yeah, I guess Mightygood gets to be collateral damage in that one, but I figure there are plenty of people who'd high-five rather than chastise you if they knew you actually put it to Ram. Plus, you're basically both rapists anyway, so I don't really care either way how it makes you look."

She waved her hand, and the drone whirred off to the side, making a slow pan around all of them while seeming to keep its lens focused keenly on Colonel Ram.

"Perhaps that's enough talking?" Gen said, sidling away from them and leaning casually on a bank of lockers. "No sense in letting the rage inside you have a chance to die down, unless you really want to chance your resolve faltering..."

"That's not gonna happen. I can still feel his fucking... stuff inside me, and there's no way I'm leaving until Ram's feeling the exact same way. Which means, you fucking bastard... you'd better brace yourself."

Sexytime Lass snapper her arm up, pointing it squarely at the center of Ram's chest, fingers spread and palm vertical. The fur-tight sleeve of her uniform transitioned seamlessly into an integrated glove, and the only part of it that wasn't covered was an open circle at the very center of her palm, to make sure that the beam she emitted as part of her powers would have nothing interfering with it - nevermind that it seemed to shoot through an enemy's clothing easily enough. In Ram's case, though, there wasn't even that to get in the way, and when the beam did zip out, the lance of coherent light seemed to hit smack in the middle of her cleavage, just above the arm Ram was trying to shield it with.

The beam itself wasn't all that impressive, a narrow flash of neon pink, but when it hit, it looked more like Ram had been hit dead center with a lightning bolt. Her limbs spasmed for a moment, arms and legs snapping outward like her body was trying to form an X, her face screwed up in a bizarre rictus as her boobs seemed to shiver of their own accord. As her arms flapped back down, though, and as she staggered awkwardly back against the lockers, Mightygood swore that he could see her nipples growing before his eyes, pushing past her wiry fur to come fully erect in an instant, both of them simultaneously flushing a deep crimson. The barely visible patch of skin between her legs was suddenly more vivid in a similar way, contrasting strongly against her white surrounding fur - fur that was instantly darkening and matting as what had to be an absolute gush of moisture spread across them.

Not only did Ram suddenly seem incredibly female, more so than she had before, she'd gone from totally normal to completely and utterly ready to be fucked in literally a matter of seconds. Mightygood hadn't even known women could do that, and probably most couldn't - while the Lass never seemed to show things such as vividly herself, it was clear enough that the power she had was potent indeed.

"Gah, guh... whuh... w-what the fuck was that?" Ram seemed to be suddenly in a daze, completely flabbergasted by what had just happened to her body, although her eyes were darting back and forth in a clear sense of panic, her pupils already dialing down to points from her bursting adrenaline.

"That? Well, it would hardly be fair if the spell let the target get fucked completely dry, so it makes sure that whoever it hits is ready when a guy is pointed in their direction. Me, I'm used to it, but I bet it's making you feel pretty damn weird right about now. Don't worry, though - you're not gonna have to worry about that much longer. No, you're going to be feeling something a lot more interesting..."

Her palm whirled around, and all of a sudden Mightygood Man was staring smack dab at that circle, which seemed to be centered just about right between his eyes.

"Please, don't do this," he said, even as another, more heroic part of him tensed his legs, preparing himself to lunge, his arms to swing. While he hated the idea of punching a woman, especially one who'd gone through as much as Sexytime Lass had, he knew that what she was trying to do was villainous enough, and that the only heroic impulse would be to stop her, by any means necessary. Problem was, before he could even take a single stride forward, the beam lashed out and smacked him, hard, right in the middle of his forehead.

Mightygood Man had never really considered just what, exactly, Sexytime Lass's beam actually did to the men she fired it at. From the outside, it had seemed pretty simple: whatever enemy was hit would stand stock still for a second, then drop the weapon they were holding, undo the parts of their costume that were required to free their burgeoning erection, before immediately pouncing on her and mercilessly humping her as quickly as possible. On the occasions he'd even thought about it slightly, he'd guessed that it was something that locked down their higher brain functions and turned them basically into horny animals that for some reason only had eyes for her. So when it hit him, he really wasn't sure exactly what to expect - maybe for his mind to shut down, or his adrenaline to spike, or his blood to boil. Something intense and crazy and out of control.

What he hadn't expected to feel, though, was good.

The beam hit, something shocking and powerful seemed to burst through the center of his head, and all of a sudden the world felt absolutely amazing. Although... it wasn't exactly the world, as much as Mightygood Man himself felt incredible beyond words.

It was more than just being tough, or strong - he was a superhero, so he'd already had all that to begin with. He felt alive... no, beyond alive, like power was crackling and coursing through every part of him. Muscles that had been strong before suddenly felt indomitable, invincible; perceptions that had been excellent before were heightened beyond imagining. He felt practically godlike, suffused with limitless power, and suddenly everything seemed possible. He felt mighty enough to flatten the entire building in a single punch, or launch himself into orbit with one casual leap. He, in that moment, was the the one true Adonis, the pinnacle of masculine strength and power, the model that other men could only look up to far above them and despair. He was perfection, and the world was his, and his alone.

He looked around, beaming his unwavering, irrational confidence around the room. Somehow, in the slightest dissonance to his perfection, the room seemed somehow both more and less vivid - everything stood out in clear, perfectly focused detail, but much of the scene seemed almost desaturated, washed out somehow, made puzzlingly indistinct - except it wasn't so much that things were indistinct, so much as he couldn't be bothered to look at them, as they couldn't possibly have mattered. He was still aware that Sexytime Lass and The Genderator were there in the room, only a few short paces away, and yet they blended in with the lockers behind them, camouflaged by their wholesale irrelevance. What they were doing there or why they were watching seemed completely unimportant, and he didn't even feel the need to acknowledge their presence.

When his gaze panned over Colonel Ram, though, everything suddenly changed. If Gen and the Lass had been washed out, Ram was the opposite: sharp and vivid and undeniably present, she practically glowed with a palpable aura of pristine beauty and powerful seductiveness. He could see every curl of her wolly, tightly curled fur in perfect clarity, while at the same time enraptured by every last inch of her sumptuous curves. She was the perfect avatar of femininity, as he was of manliness, and merely looking at her, poring over her form, he knew. She would be his mate, the immaculate vessel of his lust, and he would impress upon her every last thrust of his boundless passion. He was the irresistible force, the absolute power, the one who held dominion over all he surveyed, and she was his, and his alone. It didn't matter that she was looking back at him with a terror that matched his confidence in its intensity, or that she was cowering back against the lockers, desperately trying to cover herself with one hand while shoving the other forward to ward him off. It didn't matter whether or not she knew the facts, or whether she would admit them to herself. In that awesome, powerful moment, she belonged to him, and her only purpose was to accept his unquestioned dominion over her body and mind. That he would take her was not in the slightest doubt, and there was nothing at all, not even the slightest shred of conscience that he might have expected to remain within him, to stop him from confidently striding forward, feeling the ground rumble beneath every awesome step, and swatting her arm away with such little apparent effort that it seemed almost like it wasn't there at all.

His strength seemed to completely outclass his formal rival, and that seemed to be exactly as it should be, since before his absolute power she could do nothing but submit. Or, of course, it could have simply been the spell that was affecting her, but Mightygood's buzzing mind dismissed that notion immediately. He had the power, and anyone would surrender to its overwhelming dominance. It took no effort at all, really, to have both of her arms pinned above her head against the metal of the lockers, metal that seemed to reverberate merely from being in the vicinity of his touch. From there, it was as simple as leaning in, pressing himself up against her entire length, letting her feel the awesome power he wielded firsthand along every inch of her trembling, yielding fur.

It felt wonderful, feeling her squirming against him, feeling the futility of her movements collapse into submission, feeling the irresistibly feminine softness of her breasts as they pressed tightly against him, her aroused nipples like white-hot points pressing through all the way down to his skin. He could feel the desperate, shallow rise and fall of her chest as each quick breath panted against him, and he could even feel the fluttering of her heart dancing deep within her. In fact, his senses seemed so heightened that he believed he could actually feel the arousal dazzling through her, coursing like pure white fire through sensitive nerves, pouring molten lust into every vulnerable corner of her mind, engorging her pelvis with feminine readiness and an overwhelming desire to surrender every passionate part that lay within to the sheer thrust of his overpowering manhood. Her mask of terror was nothing more than a lie; she was already his, already taken, and all that was left was to make real the act that he was certain was already consuming every aspect of her consciousness.

He was barely even aware of pulling her away from the lockers, or shoving her down, but just like that she was on her back on the wide wooden bench, legs clamped tightly together even as her breasts bounced unbidden atop her heaving chest. Her arms were still pinned above her, and now he was crouching with his knees to either side of her legs, one hand already traveling towards the waistband of his costume to relieve its incredible straining pressure against the hardest, most unwavering erection he'd ever had.

He tugged the waist of his tights down, off from around his hips, leaving hanging up just below the curve of his ass. He'd freed what was important, so they too became utterly irrelevant.

He looked down at himself, feeling nearly in awe of his own endowment. From a purely technical standpoint, he probably wasn't any bigger or thicker than he normally was, but he was hard, really and truly hard, his normally red cock throbbing a shade of crimson so deep that it was almost purple. And it was solid, more than it ever was, not even bobbing or waving in the slightest when he swiveled his hips from side to side. Admittedly, if he'd been anything close to sane at that point in time, he probably would have worried about it, but in that moment, it seemed like the ultimate example of complete, powerful, dominating manhood. It was the focus of his entire power, and the woman lying before him would be able to do nothing but accept its awesome presence as its undeniable lust dominated her quivering insides.

She was yelling up at him, yelling something with that desperate look on her face, but for some reason he couldn't parse the words into any meaning. All he could hear was the feminine timbre, high and clear and beautiful, ringing with what he was sure had to be her yielding arousal finally and reaffirmingly given voice. And just like that, he knew he had to take her, right then, as quickly as he could, as he knew, deep down, that the world could no longer wait to hear the power of their lust resounding through all the land. He would take her, he would make her his, in every possible way, and she would accept him gladly.

It was time for her to be open to him, which meant that her legs should no longer be pressed together as they were. The fact that they remained so wasn't important - as she was his, he would open them however he desired, and he merely reached down, put one hand against the inside of each of her thighs, and pressed them apart, nimbly leaping up as he did so to ensure that when he came back down, his legs would be within hers, and all her own legs could do was remain splayed open around him. Of course, such an action freed Ram's hands, and they were soon flailing against Mightygood's chest as he loomed over her, the weak, futile blows only further serving to inflame his passion and urgency. That struggle, too, was irrelevant, and he chose to ignore it, instead looking down to revel, for just a moment, at the invitation of the beautiful femininity that lay between her sleek, supple, and sublimely spread thighs.

Thanks to the shower situation, Mightygood had seen the male version of what Ram was packing at least a couple of awkward times, but happily such thoughts couldn't have been further from his mind. He'd much rather focus on what Ram had now, and what he'd all too effortlessly revealed. Like every other part of her, it was feminine perfection: a mound of deep, pristine crimson, the soft dome engorged to the highest level of visible arousal, every point of its surface slick with a coat of undeniable readiness. In the center of it, the core of her womanhood was displayed, the delicate intricacy of subtle ridges and folds, the part that would so softly and easily yield to him. It was the ultimate point of his desire, and to wait even a moment longer would have been unacceptable.

Even as her arms continued to thump faintly against his chest, even as her thighs continued trying to squeeze shut again around him, he leaned forward, propping himself up on one arm above her, letting gravity draw him down between her legs, using his hips as a wedge to leverage his overwhelming power and force them the rest of the way apart. He exulted as they spread wide enough that his tip could easily reach the embrace of her soft, warm folds, feeling them wrap tightly around him, feeling them spread and give way as effortlessly as he'd imagined. His body was perfectly in place, tensed, coiled like a spring, and he let it unleash every bit of its stored-up energy to slam his cock into its rightful place inside her, to show her body and mind the unrelenting presence that she could do nothing but surrender to completely.

Just as he'd imagined, she felt absolutely wonderful, as the silky, wet, and desperately hot flesh pulled snug around him, conforming as closely as the clinging fabric of his costume as he felt his shaft stretch her taut in every possible dimension. She had to know, now, that he owned her, owned every single part of her, and that there was no point at all in even trying to resist that powerful, inevitable fact. Her body had, after all, accepted every inch of him, fully and completely, and nothing would stand between him and the culmination of their passion.

Even her one last, desperate, incongruous effort to wriggle her thighs out from beneath his dominance was easily thwarted by giving his hips free reign, allowing them to reintroduce her to his power again and again as they slammed deep, mighty thrusts into her, quickly quieting her squirming by forcing it to give way to querulous moaning as each powerful stroke lit up her aroused insides with sensation. He could visualize it again, could see the intensity of it flashing through her, bursting through her abdomen as each of his thrusts bottomed out inside her, watched it crackle up her spine like lightning and tingle its way through her neck and shoulders and chest. He could even see it spark between her breasts as each motion made them tremble violently along a prescribed, pendulous arc, so soft and alluring that he reached out and grabbed one, pressing the hot nipple in deep and hard against his palm, and feeling her inner walls clench around him in response as the sensation of it shocked through her.

He loved the way she felt, loved the way she reacted, loved the way her face flashed from desperation to despair to strange, impassioned grimace as he plunged into her. Her insides felt perfect as they wrapped around him - so perfect, in fact, that he found himself pining for them even during the brief times he had to pull out in order to thrust back inside her. She'd given in long ago, though, so there was no need to pound her further into submission, and no need to let him go without feeling her taut skin snug all around him.

Instead of thrusting, then, he settled his hips resolutely into place, making sure she could feel them, making sure she knew that they weren't going anywhere, and neither was he. Then he let them work again, let them go on instinct, let them grind intimately against her at a far more rapid speed, thrusting just enough that he could feel her flesh tugging back and forth against his shaft, just enough to make sure that she could feel every part of him. Just enough to make her suddenly panic and struggle desperately against him before falling back flat along the bench, her insides throbbing and clenching and comfortably massaging his entire length as her body completed and celebrated her submission.

It was absolutely perfect - looking down on her dazed, utterly lost face, feeling her thighs tremble around him, knowing the feeling of complete power and ultimate conquest, the core of his masculinity locked in an intimate embrace that would not be broken. He could feel all that power, all that passion, building to a head, to a single point of fire on the tip that dug in deeply against slick, heated flesh, felt every part of him building to one last powerful thrust that made his tip stretch one more part of her perfectly, quiveringly taut. And then, calling out his dominance of all things for the world to hear, trembling at the might of his proclamation, he allowed himself to erupt, feeling the warmth of his seed spreading and flowing through the minuscule space between them.

It was just about at that point, though, that the waveform started to collapse, that the curtain of whatever had been possessing him began to fall back to reveal a far starker reality. He gave a few more brief, wet spurts inside of the completely supine Ram, and as soon as they subsided he felt his erection all but collapse, along with the rest of him. He nearly fell straight forward on top of her, but when she shoved him this time, her arms had actual force behind them, and they sent him tumbling into a heap on the floor. He tried to straighten himself out, getting tangled up in the partially pulled-down tights before fumbling them back into place, his limbs trembling and completely enervated.

There was no more vividness, no more intensity, no more limitless power and delusions of godlike grandeur. There was only Albert, crouched there like a fool under the harsh florescent lights of a spartan locker room, staring up into the unblinking eye of the flying camera as Sexytime Lass and The Genderator watched with a chilling, almost clinical lack of passion on either side.

And as he crouched there, spent and strangely cold, the memories of everything that happened came flooding back, flashing through his mind unbidden. This time, though, they weren't tempered by the dominant power that had previously possessed him. This time, they were horribly unfiltered, and he could see every bit of what he had done. He was frozen, sobbing, head in his hands as it all played out: him slamming Ram against the lockers, throwing her down on the bench, fighting past every desperate attempt of hers to fight back. Whatever it was that the beam had done to her, it had obviously drained her strength and prevented her from resisting in any meaningful way, but her struggles were still painfully real, as was the realization that he'd fought past every one of them, laughing with a maniacal grin on his face. There hadn't been any consent, any true passion on her part, any mythical inevitability, just him using his strength and muscles and positioning to force her down, force her legs apart, and force his way inside her. He'd raped her, really raped her, pounded her as roughly and mercilessly as his body could manage, making her feel everything, finally even forcing her to climax somehow, laughing at the terror evident on her face as she felt her body giving in to what he was doing to her. He'd even tilted his head back and howled like a fucking dog as he'd busted his nut inside her. He'd violated her, brutally and horribly, and he hadn't even realized it.

He brought his head back up, looking over at Ram as she levered herself upright, grimacing and groaning. A small rivulet of blood was trickling down past her jawline, and while he couldn't recall ever having actually hit her, he was filled with dread that he had, even after another flash seemed to show her biting down on her own panting tongue as the moment of climax clenched her entire body.

Ram glanced in his direction for a moment before quickly turning away, and Albert did the same. After what he'd done, he couldn't bear to look at her. Couldn't even bear to think about what he was, who he was supposed to be. How could he call himself Mightygood Man after what he'd just done? No, right there on the floor, he wasn't mighty, or good - just Albert, the rapist, deserving of every ounce of contempt for himself that he felt.

Eventually, after some indeterminate span of time filled with guilt and despair, he again dared to glance back up. The first thing that caught his attention was Gen moving around towards the edge of his vision, gaze panning like she was surveying the scene. From off to the side, he could hear Ram groaning faintly as Gen started to speak.

"So, Lass... did you get what you wanted?"

"I... I don't know..."

He looked over at Sexytime Lass, and it seemed that for her, too, the veil had fallen away. Her expression had been drained of all its demented fury, replaced by a look that just seemed... stunned.

"Really? Seems like it all played out the way it was supposed to..."

"Yeah, but I... I know it sounded good in my head, like it was going to be a real revenge, but... I didn't think about how it would be to actually see it happen. When it happens to me, that's one thing, and it's messed up in its own way, but to watch it happen, seeing someone else get... fucked like that, and knowing every minute it goes on that it's happening because I made it happen... Ram's an ass who probably deserves worse, and Mightygood's not all that much better, but... I don't feel satisfied. I don't feel vindicated. I can still feel Ram's fucking spunk dripping down inside me, and even though now he has to feel the same thing... I just feel sick. What... what did I just do?"

"The right thing. You did the right thing. After what they did, you know these fuckers had to learn. Now they have, and they're not going to soon forget it."

"It's not just what happened to them, though. It's what I... did. There's nothing about this that's heroic. Everyone's suffering, and I still feel just as raped as I did before..."

"Give it time. Think about how much they hurt you, hurt others, and you'll see just how right it was soon enough."

"But... that's the thing. They did horrible things, but... so did I, right now. I just got Colonel Ram raped, and I made Mightygood a rapist against his will. I just raped two people. How am I any better than them?"

"Because you're a woman, and because they hurt you first. You have to believe that."

"I... I don't, I..."

Her stammering stopped as Ram groaned again, louder this time. Albert somehow dared to look back over, and she was still sitting on the bench, still naked, hunched over with both hands clutching herself low on her belly as she spoke for the first time since the beam had overtaken them. Her voice was faint, wavering, but clear enough.

"W-why?"

Albert tried to fumble his way to a response, but another look made it clear that Ram wasn't addressing him. Instead, she'd lifted her head up just enough to stare right at Sexytime Lass.

It was The Genderator, though, who interjected, their face seeming to linger in its feminine state for a moment longer than normal. "You know exactly why it happened."

"N-no, not that. Why, Lass... Why do you even do this in the first place? Being under that spell, what happened... it was horrible. So horrible I don't even want to think about it. Not even being able to fight back, being trapped, held down, having no choice but to feel all of it... I mean, I've been through shit. Faced down otherworldly motherfuckers that would have driven any normal man mad. Seen horrors beyond comprehension. Bad as it was, though, I could block it out. Just let myself fight, ignore all the rest. But that... is it really like that for you, every time? You really have to feel every single moment of it, completely unfiltered?"

"Yes... I do." Sexytime Lass almost looked like she was close to tears. "I know exactly what it feels like, and knowing that, I..."

"Ah, fuck it. As much as I hate to say it, what's done is done. It's not like any one of us can take it back." Ram sighed, letting herself flop back down flat on her back against the bench. "I'm not going to apologize for what I did. That'd be a lie anyway - I wanted what I wanted, and I did what it took to get it. And now that I know what you know, now that I know exactly what it was like for you, I know that you're never gonna forgive me, anyway." Ram actually laughed for a moment, but the short, sharp exclamation ended with her all but choking on it, coughing violently. "Funny thing is... I actually thought that delusion was mutual. I thought that the spell was the same, and that you were feeling the way I was. Like an avatar of sex, like what was happening to you was the best fucking thing in the world. And you know what? When Mightygood was holding me down, batting my hands away and shoving my legs apart, I looked up at him, and I saw it, right there in his eyes. He didn't have a fucking clue. He actually believed that I wanted it, no matter how I tried to fight him. And yet, for you, there's not a shred of delusion, is there? It's just fucking rape, and you have to endure it. So, seriously... why? Why the fuck would you show up for this job, day after day after day? Why would you show up, knowing that every day some fucker was going to brutally rape you while thinking it's the best thing ever? Why endure that kind of grief? Sure, it made sense, back when I thought that power applied to you, that you got off on this as much as the guys you were fucking, that you were just some clueless sex-crazed slut that enjoyed the kinkiness of it. But if that's how it actually is for you, why wouldn't you take one of the kajillion other jobs out there that aren't this one?"

Sexytime Lass just looked back over at him, a rueful smile slowly breaking through finally-released tears. "Because... I wanted to help people, as stupid as that sounds now. I grew up watching people hurt other people and I wanted to... not even bring the bad guys to justice, so much as save the people they were hurting. And when I figured out that I had this power, and I realized that using it I could stop bad people, the kind of bad people that the cops and the military and others couldn't, I had to. The first time... it was brutal, and in the middle of it happening, I wanted to quit, and walk away. But the guy was stunned, stopped, put away... and the bus he'd been about to fling into the side of a skyscraper had a bunch of little kids in it. I saw them stream off the bus, crying, running over to their parents and leaping into their arms, and when I actually saw those people that I'd saved... I'd suffered, suffered in ways I hadn't even known possible, but seeing those children still alive, all that suffering seemed worth it. That's what I kept telling myself, every time I was down, every time some asshole supervillain who couldn't even be bothered to bathe was pressed up against me, that I was doing the right thing, that I was on the side of good, that all my suffering and sacrifice was worth it. Maybe it would have been, you know? But when you decided to film me, fuck with me, make me zap you and endure the aftermath... being fucked by someone who's supposed to be on the side of right, who's supposed to be one of the good guys... how is that worth it, if the good guys are the same as the bad guys behind closed doors? Then my eyes were open to it, and when I started looking for it, it was all too easy to find. And the more I found, the more it weighed on me. On our team... there's not a single woman on it who hasn't been coerced into sex somehow, and that's just with fellow superheroes. And I still endured, but... it was just too much. I didn't think it would take me to such a dark place, but... here we are. After all that, in the end, I'm no better than you, or Mightygood, or Gen for sparking off all of this and getting off watching it happen. We can put on costumes and punch in the faces of people who are a whole lot worse, but not one of us is really a fucking hero. Not when every single one of us is capable of this."

"Heh... speak for yourself," Gen replied, even as Ram seemed absolutely flabbergasted by the Lass's answer. "If you ask me, vigilantism and revenge really are at the core of the whole enterprise when you strip away all the moralization. After all, we don't beat up the bad guys until they do something first. I don't know your feelings, and maybe you do actually regret it, but I don't. They sinned first, and considering you couldn't even really fight back, not under the thrall of your spell, this is the only revenge that made sense. And it worked, didn't it? People go on and on about how the ends don't justify the means, but really, all you have to do is look to see the impact this has had. Now that Ram's gotten a dose of this, there's no way he'll do it again, and Mightygood actually looks sufficiently broken that it'll probably be months before he can even think of putting his hands on another woman, even if they actually want him. We won. We took two rapists and we stopped them cold. You've suffered enough as it is - let them wear the guilt for a change."

Sexytime Lass, though, just sort of slumped, her shoulders sagging before she sat down heavily on the bench just beyond where Ram's head lay, staring down at her supine form. "I think there's enough guilt to go around. And yet... I don't know. You think it's fucking wrong, Ram, that despite everything else, I'm actually enjoying how totally fucked up you look right now?"

"Nah, it's not wrong. Fuck, you've got video of this entire shitshow, so yuk it up all you want. I oughta be pissed, oughta be screaming for revenge, but I'm took fucking tired and I'm aching too fucking much to give a shit about much of anything right now. Especially since this whole fucking situation seems more like Gen's revenge than anything else, which means she's probably gonna make me sit here all female for a while longer just to mess with me before changing me back. And for some reason, I just don't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me angry or depressed or whatever about all this shit. What is it they always say? Sometimes you gotta laugh because otherwise you couldn't help but cry? Ha fucking ha, then. Congratulations - you got me turned into a chick, and got me raped. And it really, really fucking sucked. But what the fuck, right? I probably deserved it. Probably deserved to have Mightygood beat me within an inch of my life, if he was even capable of it. I dunno... maybe I really am the fucked-up one here. I mean, I'm the one who got raped, but Mightygood's the one who's all broken up over it, even more than you." Ram sat back up, not even bothering to cover her breasts, and waved over at him. "Hey Mightygood. There still anyone left in there, or are you just a fucking shell now?"

Mightygood somehow met her eyes again, for a moment at least, before casting his gaze back down towards the floor. "Don't call me that name. I don't deserve it anymore."

"What, because it's got the word 'good' in it? Seriously if that's your name-"

"My name's Albert. Just Albert."

"Yeah, and my regular name before I turned into this was Cristobal Muñoz. But who gives a shit? This is who we are now, so get over yourself."

"But I-"

"Yeah, you fucked me over. Guess what? I know it, because I was fucking there! And it super duper sucked! But you were already trying to punch my lights out anyway, so what the fuck, right?"

"What, t-that's it? I, I raped you, so how can you be so calm about it?"

"Calm? I don't think I sound calm, but really... I feel so damn weird, the only explanation I can think of is that I'm still in shock from what happened, that my mind can't even fully process it yet, especially because I had to feel a ton of stuff no guy is even capable of feeling. When it all really hits me, I'll probably be a complete fucking mess, but right now... I dunno. Somewhere along the line, I think right about when you were shooting off inside me, there was just this... moment of clarity about how we were all truly, irretrievably fucked, and once that happened, it kind of got hard to give a shit about anything, you know?"

"What? Irretrievably-"

"Yeah, that. Honestly, this whole thing was going to come crashing down soon anyhow, but now we are all fucked a ton of different ways. Here's the thing - that video? The one that fucking drone just shot of this entire shitshow? It's not gonna just sit on a computer somewhere waiting for some eventual blackmail. We're all public figures, and hackers are a whole lot better at hacking computers than we are at using them. Those original blackmail videos? Heard from a buddy of mine a couple weeks ago that they're on the darknet, some site that charges an arm and a leg for first crack at stolen videos. Hidden for now, but it's only a matter of time before they hit the tube sites."

"What?" That was from Sexytime Lass, who unsurprisingly was rapidly becoming livid beneath her golden fur.

"Yeah, sucks about that. Guess that's why I was milking things as much as I've been recently, trying to get as much as I could in before the news hit. I know, I know, that makes me king shit and all, but the fact of the matter is, you can tell enough from the video who was behind it. Once that shit gets out, well... it would have been a scandal, but I probably could have made it through. This video, though, with me as a bitch, so pathetic that I couldn't even fight off one single guy, my rep as a superhero is fucking done. Villains are gonna take one look at me and laugh their asses off. Or worse, knowing how I was as a woman, they're not going to know or care what influence I was under. Every single gender-bender ray in the city is gonna be aimed in my direction, and while the Lass might be able to handle it, fuck if I'm gonna stand for it. Although... honestly, it probably wouldn't even matter if Gen didn't change me back, because there's not gonna be a single person out there who's gonna take me seriously as a guy again. Mightygood... who knows, you might even get out from under it, but that video's still gonna be there, mocking you, and if you're this guilty about it now, you're gonna crack in half when everyone you know is bringing it up every day of the fucking week. So yeah, we've got to face facts that were are all completely and utterly fucked in all this. Well, maybe not Gen, but seriously. We're all basically gonna be laughingstocks. And that, in a nutshell, is why I just can't bring myself to care. Next week, I'm probably in street clothes driving a taxi or something. Now that I'm this fucked, and can't exactly get un-fucked, it just doesn't fucking matter."

"Urgh... the fucking videos are out there? I can't fucking believe... no, you know what? I take it all back. I am so not fucking sorry I got you raped. What the fuck is wrong with you? Haven't you ever heard of a flash drive and a safe-deposit box?"

"Well, yeah, but if I kept them locked in a box, how was I going to watch them?"

"You, you... ugh, you're right. If they're out there, then that's that. Not that it's gonna change my reputation any, really, considering what it already was. And at this point, I guess I deserve those fucking consequences as much as you two do."

Sexytime Lass got up, stretching for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. "Okay, so we're all fucked in some way or another. Now what do we do? I guess we might as well turn Ram back to normal, considering no one else is here to mess with him..."

"Oh, I could," The Genderator replied, smiling. "There are so many fun things I could do, but there is a difference between revenge and overkill. Unfortunately for our pathetic friend, though, change won't be coming for a while yet. If I did when there were... foreign materials in parts that would no longer be there, it could cause all sorts of problems, so the power won't work until those parts are clean. Once you've fully absorbed the present that Mightygood left you, probably overnight at least, then we can talk."

"Really? Man, this day's just gonna have no end of sucking, huh? Well, I guess if I've been female this long, and through this much fucked-up stuff, I can handle sleeping it off overnight. Heh... man, this would be hilarious if I had a girlfriend, though."

"Yeah, because it would be totally hilarious if you were cheating on your girlfriend on top of raping me, right?"

"Okay, yeah, I get it. Not funny. But if we're really gonna talk about things that are funny, and considering I really don't give a crap any more... why the fuck did you decide to name yourself Sexytime Lass, anyway? Considering what you know you go through... what, is it supposed to be an inside joke? Some sick kinda irony or something?"

Sexytime Lass just looked at him for a moment, cocking her head in bemusement.

"I didn't."

"What?"

"You heard me. I didn't even want a superhero name when I started, because I thought they all sounded kinda stupid. But once I started getting noticed, once I joined the team and people were interested... whoever does our marketing came up with it. Said it would help move merchandise, sell comic books, that sort of thing, and I guess I thought it was as good as anything else - I mean, Colonel Ram is about as unimaginative as you can get, and Mightygood I'm guessing just got a song stuck in his head one day, so why the fuck not? And it worked, too - who knew that a female superhero whose power was fucking people would take off with a bunch of horny guys, right? There's a whole line of adult products and services now with my name plastered all over them - even some company with an onahole they claim features a replica of my vulva, although from what I hear it was cast from some random public relations intern. And I can't complain, considering how much money I make from it. Have I ever wondered if it was ironic, though, all those times when some villain's been on top of me? Yeah, of course I fucking have.

"The thing about it is, though... it's not always completely wrong. When I'm with someone I actually want to be with, yeah, sometimes I let a beam fly and have fun with it. And every once in a while, when there's a supervillain who's actually fucking hot, it's not like I'm gonna make myself suffer intentionally. Maybe I even let myself get into it. I mean, if I'm gonna be honest with myself... yeah, that shit you pulled earlier on the other side of the locker room, that was completely awful. Seriously, for a manly man, you really can't fuck worth a damn, and your cock doesn't measure up to your claims, that's for sure-"

"Hey!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up. It's not like you can prove your point now, anyway. The point is, that fucking beam makes me ready, but I wasn't actually aroused with you. At all. Sorry to burst your sad fucking bubble. But seeing you, like this? Watching Mightygood taking you like a real fucking man? I still can't help but feel guilty about it, and kind of fucked up about watching it too, but if we're all being totally honest... that, right there, got me going like you wouldn't believe. And you know, if we really are all so screwed that it doesn't even matter..."

She turned back towards Mightygood Man, or the man who couldn't stand to call himself that anymore, a truly troubling look spreading across her face.

"Fuck it. Mightygood Man, you want to have sex with me now."

"W-what? No, I don't, I-"

"I said that you want to have sex with me. I didn't say you had any choice in the matter."

Her arm swung up in a flash, and this time, the beam smacked him squarely in the chest.

And once again, just like that, everything was amazing...