FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Assault on Damsel City: Diversion Tactics

By Psion

All Rights Reserved

As the assault on Damsel City continued, BRICK's hold on his city grew more tenuous. Even as horribly drugged out of their minds as they were, the city's general populous couldn't ignore the sudden flood of heavily armed invaders and armored vehicles suddenly in their city. Those that attempted to flee found their exodus was uncontested, the heavily armed aggressors had other targets in mind. The initial defense repelled and the Fit Freaks crippled after the Hospitallers had been rescued, Colonel Wylder's raiders and the heroes of Silicon City split off into smaller teams to continue attacking different targets. The chemical plants that produced BRICK's mind-controlling drugs and his sleeping gas were identified and made priority targets, becoming sudden hosts to squads of angry humans and furries. Meanwhile though, a pair of heroines attempted to make good on their half of a previously made agreement…

Battle Vixen had a feeling going into the meeting with the other superheroes that this was going to be a complete waste of time at best. At worst… she'd rather not think about what the worst-case scenario was. The best-case scenario was bad enough as it was, which is why she sent Luminosity Lion off to take care of the other arrangements ahead of time. The jet needed to be prepped, their itinerary planned out, and their clothes for the trip packed up, Battle Vixen knew Luminosity Lion would likely only do the first and third thing and try to wing the second once they got there but it didn't matter so long as the other female was preoccupied with something that kept her far away from what was happening right now.

Keeping her demeanor perfectly calm even though her mind was going a mile a minute processing all the possible ways this could end badly, Battle Vixen causally sauntered into the meeting being held in one of the city's most luxurious country clubs. The front door wasn't normally her style but considering everything else that was already going on, it wouldn't do to spook anyone unnecessarily. Just go in, find a way to quietly convince the others to leave the city with her, and then leave whether the task was successful or a failure….

The water was warm as Harold sank slowly into the relaxing waters of the Greek bathhouse. An Egyptian handmaiden that was the splitting furry image of Bast herself and a Greek bathhouse… he wasn't going to question it after the day he'd been having fighting the Fit Freaks in their underground fortress. Giggling, the busty gray-furred feline stripped off her white linens and slowly stepped into the hot waters of the sprawling bath. Abundant breasts bounced freely as Amora's handmaiden nuzzled against the British chemist and gingerly ran a hand against where his dark skin had turned a noticeable shade of purple from his injuries sustained during his Dungeon run. Seemingly unconcerned that both of them were nude, Harold's attendant straddled him and slowly rubbed his shoulders. Lulled into a relaxed stupor, the battered man let the feline's finger's work their magic as he enjoyed a most excellent view before falling into a deep, refreshing sleep…

Well that was definitely not how Battle Vixen expected the meeting to go then again this was BRICK she was talking about. Of course this was how things were going to end up eventually, with her and Luminosity Lion bound, gagged, and dangling like a pair of erotic piñatas from the ceiling in a dinky warehouse with trash and moldy wooden crates scattered everywhere. Tight elastic ropes bound both heroines, the paint of choice for a bondage artist determined to restrain and empower his subjects at the same time… which brought Battle Vixen to her current question, who the hell was this weirdo Psion dredged up?

At first, Battle Vixen looked at her captor's “Great White Hunter" apparel and thought of a different hunter of superheroes. A scary one with an obscure species hailing from the heart of Africa, one that was quite terrifying when in the hands of her one true creator, a creator with a level of skill that no one else had been able to capture. But try as she might, the mighty vulpine avenger of Obsidian City could not see any tangible connection between the stalker of deserts and the albino lion standing below her, grinning like a smug fool as he watched her from behind a pair of golden steampunk goggles; that huntress was pure sadistic evil, this hunter looked like a loser playing dress-up.

“Well, well my pet. Look at what we have here." The lion smiled as he spoke to a skunk dressed in red leather and jet-black bondage gear, smiling back as she knelt by his side and submissively hugged his leg.

Unfortunately for BV's captor, it didn't go much further then that before someone kicked in a door leading to the outside and threw a flashbang grenade into the room. The blinding explosion of light caught all four anthros in its blast, stunning and deafening both captors and captives as the attackers pressed their advantage.

The staccato report of gunfire greeted the hostages' ears as their hearing and vision returned to them. The patriotically armored Rivetgal had gunned down the hunter's “hound" in short order with a burst of flesh-shredding flechettes while a pair of paramilitary supers rushed in the superhero hunter from either side.

“Do you know who I am?" The lion shouted, his voice trembling with raw rage from the loss of his partner in crime, as he tried to bring an ornate double-barreled shotgun to bear on Rivetgal.

Kraken, an augmented sea otter that cut the perfect physical image of a furry American super soldier, reached him first. Knocking the shotgun out of the other male's hands, he grabbed the weapon and smacked the hunter with the butt of his own gun. On the otherside, the super-strong Army donkey known as Dozer grabbed the feline by the neck and gave it one good twist. With a sickening crack, the hunter's vertebra snapped like a dry twig as he fell to the ground dead.

“Yeah we know who you are, you're a loser that never got the memo. We're out of your league." Kraken answered as he towered over the hunter's unresponsive corpse before giving the dead male's face a good stomp with his navy-issue combat boots.

“If you're quite finished Kraken we need to cut down these two and get moving. Those chemical plants aren't going to burn themselves down. Besides, this moron already ate up enough of our allotted word count." Rivetgal replied dryly from behind her helmet's respirator.

The sea otter grumbled but unsheathed his cybernetic claws and made short work of cutting the two captives loose. Wordlessly gesturing towards the rear entrance with her Rivetgun, the patriotic heroine motioned for the two vigilantes to leave. Battle Vixen and Luminosity Lion didn't need to be told twice, there was a furious glint building Rivetgal's eye that was visible even behind her crimson-tinted visor. The canine definitely did not like anything about anything about her current surroundings, not at all.

Leaving the warehouse and entering a street in the bad parts of Damsel City, Rivetgal was joined by Kraken and Dozer as the three registered superheroes from Silicon City walked down the empty, trash-strewn street. Their surroundings were dead quiet, so deathly silent that Rivetgal could hear the sound of the synthetic fabrics in her gloves flex and bend as she exercised her fingers in anticipation of their next fight. The All-American gadgeteer did not like Damsel City, not at all. An old saying about malice and stupidity kept playing over in her head, do not blame on maliciousness what can easily be explained by a lack of intelligence. But which was worse here? Deliberate cruelty or horror caused by careless idiocy? They had already encountered signs of one of Damsel City's darkest villains on the walk over to rescue Battle Vixen, disfigured corpses of the city's disenfranchised twisted by some kind of bio-chemical weapon. There was only one villain that could be and she was only one that truly scared all of the Psion invaders. The only one that had them all drawing straws to see who had the rotten luck of hunting her down like the animal she was. A specialist had been called in specifically to deal with this particular threat but Rivetgal hadn't been able to establish contact with the CDC operative yet.

And at that moment, it looked like Rivetgal and her two accompanying supersoldiers were the ones that had the rotten luck. Turning on the nearest intersection in the congested industrial quarter of the city, the costumed trio found themselves facing the villain all of them had been dreading. The one villain that the entire expedition had been dreading if they were honest, the one that simply did not belong in to a roster of DiD villains.

Standing at a modest five-foot-six, a slender yet curvy mouse clad in a form-fitting black HAZMAT suit adorned with skulls and various yellow hazard symbols regarded the three supers with a playful twirl of a stainless steel spray nozzle as she stood up street from them. Said nozzle was hooked up to a bizarre cylindrical contraption worn on her back, the device making barely audible suction noises as it visibly caressed the mouse's body beneath her suit. Toxinna, German mistress of maladies and connoisseur of toxic chemicals, this chesty female was the heart and soul of BRICK's efforts in biological and chemical weapons. Not silly fetish ones like weak paralysis toxins either, Rivetgal might be able to tolerate this… creature's existence if that was the case. But no, whatever sicko in BRICK's inner circle that came up with this girl decided to have her dabble in things on the level of Ebola and the Bubonic Plague. In her underdeveloped and half-baked back story alone, Toxinna killed somewhere between a hundred and several thousand people. Up to several thousand people that died vomiting and shitting their own blood… Rivetgal's mind swam with a thousand questions she banished in an instant. It didn't matter at this point, it didn't change the fact that right here, right now, she was facing a foe that could easily kill her; the only foe in BRICK's roster that could easily kill her and the others… unless she took the other female out first.

Not a word was said between the two parties before the fight began in earnest, the heroes silently grateful that they had some distance and the street was abandoned. The concrete and steel towers echoed with the report of automatic weapons as Rivetgal and Dozer opened fire, Kraken hanging back and sticking close to his two ranged cohorts. While the two male supersoldiers had incredible recuperative capabilities and the ability to physically withstand toxins, their training meant they were unwilling to test their abilities unnecessarily. Likewise, while impressive against more conventional weapons, Rivetgal's armor was not designed for the chemical and biological weapons at Toxinna's disposal. Their only real known advantage in this fight was that they were currently out of range of the sprayer loaded up with the toxins the mouse's body were producing naturally. That and the rodent's suit was clearly not bulletproof judging by how eagerly she avoided their weapons fire.

Unfortunately, though abandoned in the chaos to control the city and devoid of people, the street had no shortage of things for the noxious rodent to scurry behind. This particular stretch of industry was home to a factory that produced the concrete jersey barriers used by departments of public works all over America. Ducking into the open storage yard on one side of the street, Toxinna got herself into a pattern of ducking behind a stack of jersey barriers, spraying a fine mist of toxins in the general direction of her foes, and move closer as they all scattered to avoid testing their protection anymore then they had to. Small slivers of concrete were harmlessly blown off of her cover as the mouse moved closer… closer… closer… now was perfect.

Putting her small spray nozzle in its holster on a handy utility belt and drawing a larger “cannon" attachment carefully strapped next to her toxin pump, the mistress of maladies braced her toxin cannon against the bullet-riddled jersey barrier and aimed in the general direction of the three heroes. With a sickening gurgle and chug, the stainless steel contraption lobbed a large, nauseating gray globule at her foes, the villain laughing manically as her opponents bolted off in three separate directions to avoid getting hit by the splatter of unidentifiable goo. Rivetgal was already in the next stage of the trap, thinking that the nearby factory would offer some sort of safety, now all the suited mouse had to do was herd the other two into the building and…

And deal with the unidentified skunk that somehow appeared behind her. Clad from head to toe in an elastic yellow HAZMAT suit that immediately looked like a custom job. Even her tail was squeezed into a bag-like appendage behind the skunk lady's ample backside. For that matter, the newcomer was pretty stocky-looking overall. Not that her figure meant much other then this stranger was almost certainly another Psion character. More worrying was the blue and white badges on her right shoulder, the top one a blue button with stylized white lines depicting an eagle in flight, the image wreathed by the words “USA" and “Department of Health & Human Services." The second badge simply had the letters “CDC" stitched in white on a blue background.

On reflex the smaller sprayer was back in Toxinna's hand and spewing a gray sludge at the unknown individual, the toxic slime just running off the other suited female's suit. The skunk looked down and wiped it off with a gloved hand as casually as if it was a condiment stain caused by sloppy eating at a fastfood restaurant.

“You have such horrible trigger control, I haven't even introduced myself yet and already you're trying to kill me." The skunk said finally, her voice surprisingly hardened for a Psion butterball.

“Well then, who are you?"

“CDC Field Specialist Nox."

“Nox… weren't you originally drafted as a fatfur vigilante that pigged out on gassy foods so you could run around and fart on petty criminals and those GLAM morons?"

“Yes… I hope Psion keeps me doing this instead." Nox grumbled as her gloved hand hovered over the black utility belt worn around her plush waist.

“So you went from being a gasbag to having a souped-up HAZMAT suit for a power, doesn't sound like much of an upgrade. Also, shouldn't I be fighting that Base Crawler Sterilux or something?"

“Correction, a souped-up HAZMAT suit that's partially fused to me and is part of a multiple redundant system of cybernetic augmentations that makes me immune to toxins. As for Sterilux, who do you think is part of the team breaking into your laboratory right about..." The suited skunk replied as she looked down at her watch. “Now."

Snarling furiously, the plague mistress lashed out at Nox, her original plans forgotten as she focused on the current threat. Later, once she took care of this interloper, she'd see about securing her lab…

Elizabeth had to admit; the love nest where Amora's two ursine valkryies had made their home was appropriately themed, the Viking longhouse the four of them stepped in wouldn't look out of place in a swords and sorcery RPG. Tapestries accented rough stonework and carpentry while thick rugs softened the stone floor of a modest main hall with a large table and a roaring fire pit, making the whole space look rustic yet inviting. The two bear women smiled as they each took a human and brought them to bed. Relaxing on a feather-stuffed mattress draped with furs, Elizabeth felt herself sink into soft, stout ursine flesh as her host held her close against the larger female's breast. Finally mentally at peace, the battered heroes rested and let talented ursine hands slowly rub their bruised bodies…

Rivetgal exhaled dejectedly as the loading dock door automatically slammed shut behind her and the creepy, dark factory ahead of her echoed with mechanical giggling and the nerve-wracking skittering of strange shadows, bizarre shapes of creatures wreathed with mechanical tentacles. The armored canine groaned and checked the magazine of her Rivetgun before chambering a round into the barrel. Gun raised, she quickly swept her surroundings before looking at the fourth wall. “Listen up idiots, if you're still reading at this point I hope you're taking notes because THIS is how you're supposed to write how a female character with combat experience gets caught in a damsel in distress scenario. God damn idiots thinking combat-experienced characters blindly charge headlong into danger…" She snarled at you then quickly focused back on the task at hand.

There were at least five of them, probably closer to ten, Rivetgal decided as she tried to count the shadowy creatures lurking just outside of her helmet-mounted flashlight. Knowing Psion wouldn't make her fight chump odds, ten sounded like a safe bet. Ten… whatever these things were. Ten things with tentacles or glowing red eyes and moved with the clink of metal on concrete. Metal tentacles… The armored canine immediately knew which Damsel City villain she was up again, mentally recalling the file on the Puppeteer and her troop of demented and nightmare-inducing “Cuddle Bots." Somewhere in this currently abandoned factory, the Puppeteer was kicking back and drinking a soda while watching the show through a group of semi-autonomous robots built to look like cuddly Jim Henson characters… if Jim Henson was inspired by HP Lovecraft.

Keeping her back to the wall, the patriotic heroine stilled her breath and listened to the sounds of the creatures trying to surround her. Metal prefab wall to her back, the thin plaster wall of an interior building to her immediate left, and the open space of the loading dock to her right and in front of her… and the sound of metal tentacles slithering across the concrete floor coming from all three points of attack. All this and she was running low on ammunition, guess she was going to see how many of these pieces of mechanical nightmare fuel she was going to take down before her gun went dry.

The first creature to attack her was likely the largest thing the Puppeteer could throw at Rivetgal, a big brown-furred creature that looked like a feral elephant with hauntingly human eyes. These eyes stared at her lifelessly as the car-sized beast lifted its snot up high and roared with a mighty trumpet of its rubbery nose before charging at the blond canine. Rivet countered with a quick burst aimed at her attacker's face, shredding it and revealing the animatronic mechanisms within, before diving out of the way in a tight combat roll. Damaged, the creature ran headfirst into the metal wall with a mighty crash before falling over and its servos seizing up.

“Oh now why did you have to do that? He only wanted to give you a hug." A haunting voice echoed from somewhere to her right.

With weapon braced against her shoulder, Rivetgal turned to face the heckler and almost promptly wished she didn't. A large, stout blue-furred creature with blood red, pupil-less eyes and a menacing set of demonic-looking teeth looked back at her. The canine champion didn't even bother giving her opponent the courtesy of the first move, pulling the trigger on her rifle and bowling the animatronic over with a second burst of gunfire. The target was destroyed but not before her gun echoed with a distinctive dry click. Distinctive enough that it caused the other eight monsters lurking in the shadows to run towards her with much less subtly.

“Come on, come on!" The heroine shouted frantically as she traded the empty magazine for a fresh one… her last one.

Chambering a fresh round into the barrel, Rivetgal opened up on the first creature to pop out of the shadows. One down, two down, she wasn't even registering anything beyond “threat" and “non-threat" at this point. The flash of her gun's muzzle pierced the darkness and turned her fight into a slide show. Bang! Monster. Bang! Monster. The battle became a blur as she was forced into a desperate last stand, three down, four down. Four plus the first two, only four left and they were all eating through her last magazine too quickly, all too quickly. Then suddenly two more were felled, joining the other disabled animatronics scattered across the floor. Now there was no doubt that there were only two left; two monsters that looked completely out of place next to the others; two robots with a distinctly feminine appearance and equipped with a mess of tentacles for hair. They both looked like a world away from the machines she had destroyed before, only the metallic sheen of their tentacles and creepy, doll-like look on their faces told her that these females were artificial.

Pointing her Rivetgun at them, the suited canine exhaled and pulled the trigger only to be greeted by the deafening click of an empty barrel. Her last magazine had just gone dry…

Sunshine, arguably the only heroine in BRICK's roster of scantily clad female flops that was capable of completely turning the tide of battle in his favor, turned off her cell phone as she entered the poorly-lit arcade tucked away in the corner of an old strip mall. The slender equine gamer girl's face was fixed in a scowling pout as she jingled several dollars worth of quarters in her pocket and examined the arcade cabinets. She knew her aunt Dame Justice and the rest of BRICK's bimbo brigade would be hounding her to pitch in and fight those Psion interlopers but honestly, fuck her aunt and fuck BRICK. The happy pills had long since stopped having any effect on her; there was no hiding the truth from her. No more lying about “responsibility," “responsibility" was a fucked sex show put on for the amusement of a bunch of semi-immortal, immature godlings. Besides, Psion's characters tended to either eat or just simply execute violent criminals depending on their creator's mood. Either method would cut down on crime in Damsel City tremendously.

The heroine clad in a skimpy yellow outfit with a sun motif knew she was only delaying the inevitable; sooner or later they'd track her down and drag her out of the arcade by her ear. There weren't many arcades left she could hide in; there wasn't much of anything left in the city anymore thanks to BRICK's ineptitude. But it wasn't like she couldn't relax and have a little fun before she'd be forced to march in line and face the forces of Psion. Maybe she'd get lucky and get pitted against the serious characters that were killing villains left and right instead of the silly ones that were being thrown at BRICK's heroines, a assault rifle round to the face would hurt but at least it would put an end to her aunt's nagging.

Shaking her head and settling on a new arcade machine set in the far corner, she smiled and traced her fingers against the black and white iconography of “IS DEFENSE", a stationary shooter that pitted a European NATO machine gunner against an ISIS invasion force. Pretty much was the only kind of video game allowed in BRICK's idealized city… no wonder Damsel City was going downhill faster and faster every day.

Popping in her first round of quarters, Sunshine took a seat and grabbed the controls as the arcade cabinet opened with a heroic orchestral score. Impatiently pressing the “skip to continue" button, the blond lightbender glossed over the narrative, a threadbare joke of a story barely justifying why she was fighting generic terrorists, and went straight to the actual game. Sliding the crude VR visor over her head, she let the game take her to a beach on southern Italy just as boats and submarines deposited the first wave of cliché terrorists onto the playing field. The virtual machinegun screamed with a satisfying roar as Sgt. Sunshine started mowing down enemy infantry and lobbing rockets at armored targets, losing herself in the fantasy of being an impractically over-equipped commando.

“EAT FREEDOM!" The engrossed gamer shouted to no one in particular, the arcade was largely empty and the attendant had fallen asleep reading a magazine. No one was alert enough to notice two well-rounded figures waddle their way in, a slender third walking in behind them and occasionally looking over her shoulder to make sure they weren't getting snuck up on.

“There she is, the heroine Sunshine in her natural habitant." Penelope Autumns pointed, gesturing to the morbid-looking arcade cabinet the heroine willingly embraced.

“So how do you plan on getting her attention?" Asked an effeminate gray-furred raccoon with a meaty pear-shaped figure, long brown hair, and a pronounced Australian accent. Samuel Johnson, a Steel Chef working for Queensland Confectionaries and nicknamed “Buns" by his coworkers. Also when he wasn't baking up various sweet treats in research kitchens, he was Penelope's rival in several online gamer communities. On opposing sides in both work and play yet the Burger World combat hacker couldn't think of anyone else she'd want to watch her back on this particular job.

“Oh that's easy." Nicole Smith, Adam and Elizabeth's hacker friend in the post-apocalypse, said as she discreetly plugged her military-surplus laptop into the arcade cabinet's diagnostics port and brought up a command prompt. “Ah may not be able to hack time but cranking up the difficulty on this game shouldn't be too hard." She explained quietly while her fingers flew on the keyboard, splicing in new lines of code on the fly…

“SUDDEN DEATH SURVIVOR MODE ENGAGE!" The announcer shouted through Sunshine's speakers as the equine heroine was halfway through a wave. Flashing a trio of skulls wreathed in flame across her screen for less then a second, the game turned the difficulty curve from a sharp slow to a vertical line. Hordes of enemies spawned on the beach as a row of troop-carrying submarines surfaced further on the horizon. Within seconds she was overrun, a suicide bomber with a stereotypical death cry forcing her to stare at the infamous “GAME OVER! CONTINUE?" screen. On reflex Sunshine reached for more quarters but a voice stopped her.

“Golly you suck." A female with a distinctly Southern accent catcalled from somewhere back in the world of ill-conceived obligations outside of her virtual fantasy.

Snarling and letting the game timer run out, Sunshine took off her helmet and searched for the voice's owner. A slender black-haired human of Caucasian descent, dressed in paramilitary warm-weather clothing and wearing a pair of large rimless glasses on her face, looked back at her with a smile. Not far behind her were a pair of portly anthros, a blond horse girl currently looking her over with an amused twinkle in her eyes and a raccoon male with a pair of puffy lips currently creased in a polite smile.

“So you're Sunshine, the gamer-girl heroine of Damsel City?" The human asked playfully.

“Yes I am. You want to make something out of it?" The heroine challenged back.

“Well, that depends on whether or not you want to play a real game with me and my two friends here." Came the one reply from the black-haired woman that could pique Sunshine's interest.

The costumed heroine bit her lip before finally nodding. Everything about this screamed that it was some kind of trap. But hey, she couldn't just pass up the chance to enjoy a new game in a place where her bitchy aunt wouldn't find her for a couple hours…

The little gamer den was hidden away in the basement of a suburban home that had been stood empty ever since its original owners moved some place far away to escape BRICK's crippling control over the city. Several of Psion's cyber-heads had taken over the fully finished basement of this particular home and converted it into a safe house where hackers could hide, crash, and play a few video games while waiting for the heat to die down. The den had been furnished with an extensive multimedia system and multiple sofas reinforced for hefty Adipose City waistlines and overstuffed with memory foam for people that enjoyed a nice, long sit. Yet it was the fore-mentioned entertainment system that was the room's crowning glory. A huge plasma screen TV flanked by two huge speakers was hung on the far wall and hooked up to a game console Sunshine didn't recognize beyond that it was something high-tech enough to be from Adipose City.

Off to the side was a fully equipped kitchen that Buns quickly waddled in and started puttering around. Swaying his broad hips and singing a little ditty to himself, the Australian baker whipped up a bowl of cake batter as the oven preheated. Sunshine watched the playful male work as he poured the batter into a cake pan and set a digital timer on the stove. Seeing that she had her eyes on him, Buns turned his head and winked at her before bending over to load the cake into the oven, giving her a perfect view of his khaki-clad rump. Meanwhile, Penelope and Nicole set up the rest of the party.

The game console came to life and brought up the title screen for “Fat Princess 4" while the coffee table was stacked high with various chips, sodas, and other snacks from Adipose City. Omega Cola in half a dozen different flavors, Mega-Nacho cheese chips, Laid potato chips both baked and fried, and all manner of donuts and other glazed treats. Sunshine started to doubt her original beliefs that this was a trap even though a part of her mind nagged at her that something was not right about this picture. Ignoring that part of her brain, the shriveled common sense that her aunt had been ritualistically trying to beat out of her ever since her powers manifested, the light-manipulator picked up a controller and joined in the battle to steal the opposing team's princess while stuffing hers with magical cake that grew out of the ground in a battle of fat versus thin, the two Adipose City lard balls versus Nicole and herself. Grabbing a soda and a treat that looked particularly tasty, the duped heroine focused on the game, oblivious to the fact that Nicole was drinking water and the two Adipose City gamers quickly gulped a small pill before they started grazing on the snacks heaped on top of the table. She was completely oblivious to the fact that the snacks were all spiked with an appetite stimulate and that her captors had either just downed the antidote or were drinking the only thing that wasn't tainted.

Time passed as a blur as the blond equine from Damsel City lost herself in the game, Sunshine fought to beat Penelope and Samuel at their own game and keep a quickly growing hunger under control. Her bloated stomach growled angrily as she tore into another glazed donut and downed her eighth can of soda, stacking it neatly next to the others. So stuffed with food that she looked like she was eight months pregnant, the flax-haired heroine's drug-addled brain still hadn't fully registered that she had just devoured more calories then her supermodel superheroine cohorts consumed in a week if not a month. All the prepackaged Adipose City snack food was loaded with triple the amount of calories she was normally used to. Calories that her body, long trained to subsist on a diet of things like sushi and iceberg lettuce, began to horde greedily. None of that registered as she lost herself in the new game. Nicole and Penny suddenly both had other places to be for a few hours so it was just the heroine and Samuel playing a fighting game and sitting on the same couch. At least they were until the oven dinged.

“Oi, the cake's ready!" Sam smiled and paused the game before getting up and ambling over to retrieve the pastry from the oven.

“Cake?" Sunshine asked with rapt interest, the game momentarily forgotten as she turned her head after the raccoon baker's retreating figure and started to get up after him. Only then did her mind start to come out of the fog of the appetite stimulates and the inertia of her bloated stomach make itself blatantly known. “Uggh I think I ate too… oh god!" She exclaimed when she finally looked down at her stomach and saw just how much “too much" entailed.

“So the drugs are starting to wear off?" Samuel Johnson called out from the kitchen as he waddled back into view with a vanilla cake in his hands and set it on the countertop to cool before he gave it a quick frosting job. The raccoon's plump face was unsurprised to see that Sunshine had started to resemble her two Adipose City captors. Then again this was probably their plan the whole time, the mare realized as a lazy belch escaped her lips.

“You drugged me?" Her question as much a general inquiry as an accusation.

“Of course we did, neither Penny or I have a particularly big force-feeding fetish. That being said, you have two choices." He began with a playful wink. “You can either eat up your dessert after it's ready like a good little shelia. Or… well I still have my batter gun primed and loaded with excess batter." Samuel's face turned flush as his delicate fingers gently caressed a pneumatic weapon Sunshine presumed was the batter gun he was referring to. “Wouldn't be the first time I made a bitchy supermodel suck on the barrel."

Sunshine's bloated stomach began to groan in discomfort at the thought of more food as the appetite stimulates began to fade. But on the other hand, there was cake and video games to be had. For perhaps the first time in her career as a superhero, she was perfectly content to be a damsel in distress. Sweets and video games, if only all of her misadventures ended this way. Reaching for her cellphone as it sat on the coffee table, she “accidentally" let her mouth hang open as Buns gave her a discouraging blast from his batter gun on reflex. As her captor waddled over to follow up his opening attack by shoving the gun into her mouth, she offered only the most obvious play at resistance and even went so far as to lick the barrel of the batter gun as it slide into her throat. Bondage writing with Psion… a girl could almost get used to this.

“TURN ON YOUR DAMN CELLPHONE SUNSHINE!" Dame Justice fumed furiously into her phone as she stood in front of the gathered Damsel City heroines as the costumed females overlooked the converted distribution center BRICK had identified as the source of the Adipose City incursion. The blond, blue-eyed draft horse clad in a patriotically colored mask and bikini turned off her phone in disgust and stuffed it in a skimpy utility belt worn over her trim waist. A towering, perfectly sculpted goddess of shallow beauty and martial incompetence, the muscular heroine turned to face the others gathered on the rooftop.

“Alright, you all know the situation. As of this morning, Damsel City was attacked by an unknown number of enemy combatants created by Psion. The police were overrun and shut down before noon by a bunch of commie supers from China and Russia. Meanwhile a unit of human urban warfare specialists destroyed BRICK's drug factories, Adipose City twits sabotaged all of his front operations, and several of us have seemingly disappeared. Spotted Lotus, Eager Beagle, the entire Fit Freak gang, and now Sunshine have stopped answering my calls."

“That's not a big surprise." Came the retort from Heroine, a short brown-haired horsewoman in an armored Mongolian dress. Heroine stood out from the others if only for the fact that she was the only one that was dressed in a way that was even remotely practical. The other heroine regarded the American champion with a smirk and rested a big mace on her petite shoulder. “Half of us have been threatening to block your phone number for weeks now."

Dame Justice turned to her heckler and looked down at the much shorter Mongolian. “Careful Heroine, remember what BRICK said when you tried to defect with Battle and Dynamo Vixen. Wouldn't want anything to happen to your favorite little niece, would you?" Justice taunted with a cruel smile.

Heroine scowled back as she tightened her grip on her mace. “I hope those Burger World bitches turn all of you into hamburger patties." The champion of Mongolia snarled as she turned back to surveying the old distribution center that the Adipose City teams had turned into a crude headquarters of sorts. The assembled Damsel City champions had been standing here for the past couple hours, watching the blubberpunks dispatch armored food trucks crewed by chefs and vehicle specialists into the city. Tech specialists, Big Tools was the name Heroine thought Psion had given them, went out in smaller trucks to restock and maintain vending machines that had been set up around the city. BRICK's American heroines grumbled about the influx of fattening foods being forcibly imported into the city by the junk food megacorps of Adipose City but the supersoldier from Mongolia was subtly impressed as she realized the simple brilliance of what the portly corporate agents had already set up. All of the vending machines were equipped with a host of wireless cameras and sensors to deter vandalism and collect market data, sensors that were likely repurposed to serve as an ad hoc surveillance network that allowed the invaders to spy on the city. The food trucks allowed them to perform more direct reconnaissance, and the few aggressive moves BRICK blamed on these strange fatfurs could have also been done by the much more slender humans and anthros currently setting the city's industrial district on fire and dancing in the ashes of BRICK's drug factories. Only the sabotage of the Azure Pearl couldn't really be blamed on anyone else but other then that, none of the regular citizens had any reason to suspect these fatfurs were related to the skinny ones rampaging through the city.

As her cohorts blathered among themselves, arguing as to whether or not they should break in through the roof or through the front door, Heroine's military mind continued to go over the information she had been presented with so far. Next stage for many of the attackers would be to clean up and consolidate their hold over the city, probably by killing or forcing out all of the villains including BRICK and his inner circle. For the Adipose City threat, Heroine imagined their next move was to carve up Damsel City amongst themselves and start establishing more permanent outlets throughout the various districts. Temporary buildings at first, little food stalls hammered together out of shipping containers and prefabricated modular buildings, but eventually they'd move onto more solidly built ones. And of course, BRICK had no one to blame but himself for the untapped pool of potential employees currently living in the ghettos…

As for her friends… well Heroine couldn't imagine how their target could have not noticed them by this point given how artfully they established a camera network inside of drink and snack machines. There had to be some Code Wader watching them through a camera and currently laughing their fat ass off at the eight bimbos blatantly staking out the place from a rooftop perch across the street. Indeed, the mace woman couldn't help but notice that the garages had been ominously quiet and it had been at least an hour since all of the food trucks had returned from their rounds.

“ENOUGH, THESE LARD BALLS CAN'T BE READY! WE ATTACK FROM THE FRONT RIGHT NOW!" Dame Justice shouted as she dramatically pointed at the hideout before jumping off of the building. The other heroines leapt after her, landing in a crouch before crossing the street in a single bond.

On cue, all of the garage doors opened into the small distribution center, revealing the entire Adipose City expedition as they sat behind metal barricades and the controls for all manner of food-based weaponry or less then lethal means of deterrence. Air cannons loaded with burgers and tacos, pneumatic guns filled with soups, batters, syrups, and sauces, and boxy-looking microwave stun rifles.

“So you finally decided to attack." A black-haired vixen said with a smile, dressed in a plasticky suit of elastic power armor and leading a troop of similarly clad European knights, as she eyed up the costumed heroines and cradled a pneumatic rifle loaded with some kind of broth. “Congratulations."

“Oh fuck me." Dame Justice scowled seconds before the firing line opened up.

A few of the bikini-clad heroines shrieked with surprised at being hit with edible projectiles, opening their mouths up just enough for the Adipose City gunmen to force a torrent of food down their throats and inflate washboard flat abdomens like rubbery balloons. Others ducked behind shields and attempted to push onward, invariably leaving themselves open to the likes of Samantha Fishermen and Namul lumbering forward with melee weapons at the ready like a pair of waddling ogres. Hanging towards the rear of the group, the Mongolian warrior princess saw the writing on the wall and backed away in the other direction as Damsel City heroines were forced to the ground and had food guns rammed down their throats. As her cohorts slowly turned into Damsel City's newest blimps, Heroine attempted to run away only to feel something hard impact with the back of her head and knock her out cold…

Regaining consciousness sometime later, the short Mongolian groaned in pain as she opened her eyes and surveyed her surroundings. There weren't many partitions separating one corporation's section of the converted distribution center from the next so it was easy to locate the others. Dame Justice's entire band had been split up and put in the care of a separate team of Adipose City agents, each team interrogating the heroines and overstuffing them with food if they didn't behave. Heroine blinked and tried to clear the fog in her head, she felt less like one of Mongolia's special forces and more like one of its T-72's. Her stomach groaned feebly and sent sharp pains through the rest of her body as her ears twitched to the sound of cyberpunk field kitchens clanging with the sound of more food being prepared.

“You're awake, good." A voice greeted her in native Russian. Heroine turned and found herself looking at an enormous bear woman clad in the navy blue body suits of Motherland Provisions.

“You must be Molotov." Heroine groaned and belched as she replied in Russian. “What had you done to me while I was out?

** “A few of the Red Maples were a bit enthusiastic about emptying their syrup guns into you after you passed out… they're the Canadian Burger World team."** Molotov explained almost apologetically before her expression changed and the almost motherly bear's face acquired a harsh scowl. “Though Motherland Provisions would be more then happy to continue bulking you up if you don't cooperate."

“I will cooperate if you do something for me first." Heroine answered in English, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the flurry of activity. Like that, everyone within earshot stopped what they were doing and turned to look at her. Several of her cohorts scowled at her the best they could despite being fed with funnels and feeding tubes while the fatfur interrogators held off on their continued feedings now that it appeared one of their prisoners was attempting to surrender.

“Motherland Provisions does not negotiate with terrorists, which is what you are as one of BRICK's henchmen after that stunt he pulled in Adipose City. And I doubt any of the other corporations represented here will be willing to deal with you either." Molotov countered in English.

“No, I know where all BRICK's safe houses in the city are. Even the ones you'll never find. Listen, that idiot and his circle has kept me here ever since I left the Mongolian special forces three years ago. I've been keeping notes on his entire operating since then. I'll give you everything I have on him, EVERYTHING, if you can send someone up to his winter estate and rescue my niece. Please, she's all I have left."

“Alright, alright you big Mongolian whine… he has a winter estate? Here?" One of the Burger World agents, a wide pear-shaped malamute with spiky black hair and a northern Canadian accent, asked as she waddled over to hear Heroine's counter-offer better.

“Yes, high up in the nearby Rocky Mountains where a malfunctioning weather control machine makes it snow constantly. It's an old ski lodge he converted into his personal mansion for when he feels like some snow. He had me up there a few times to let me see my niece and… model for some fur-lined swimwear with the other heroines." Heroine explained sheepishly.

“We'll talk about this later." Molotov replied. The engorged Mongolian champion could tell the heavyweight cyberpunks were considering it. “In the meantime why don't you sit down and enjoy some fine Motherland products while we figure out our next move." The Russian bear smiled and shoved an MP ration bar in Heroine's mouth; the delicious combination of flavors caressed the equine's tongue before landing and sitting in her swollen stomach like a lead brick. Guess even she wasn't getting out of being stuffed like a balloon…