Posted on 2025-06-15 19:58:49
Score: 3 (vote Up)

STORY:
Nngh The sound was the only one that came from Stormwaves mouth as she was pressed to the wall behind her. A soft, guttural, restrained sound. Something that a person would make when straining to do a simple task, or when there was a sudden and unexpected impact. It was a noise that lacked urgency, emotion

Or even thought.

Do you like fishing, Stormwave? A voice echoed into the room, bouncing from the shelves of blinking lights and glass tubes before merging into the ether of a dull hum produced by too many computers. The male voice was firm and cool, tinged with a slight buzz that sounded like an old speaker, or a subwoofer with a short in the cord. Synthetic enough to obscure the identity and accent of the speaker, but not enough to remove the sense of pure confidence that was hardcoded into each word.
The fox didnt react to it at all, her gaze transfixed by the cyan glow before her. Her normally brilliant white muzzle coloring was tainted by the increasing intensity of the powerful creature that had stolen her attention so expertly, crafting a cage of arrested mental facility that squeezed so tight that not a single thought could break the indescribable network of cybernetic tendrils.

Dont answer that. Darkwitt spoke to himself, his inorganic voice echoing off of the dull-minded fox as he moved forward.

A thrust.

It was a simple motion, sliding his glowing member into the newly made slit of the duratex costume. There had been time to grow accustomed to the body of his captive heroine, since her failed attack on his base. More than enough to enter again and again, working his bright lights and nano-laced member deep into her heated body. Each thrust became a more brilliant glow than the last, leaving the bright starburst of blue at the moment of hilting.

Then he started again, drawing back. Thrusting again.

Nngn

Its not like youre going to be thinking a lot, not right now. He said, his voice and breathing utterly calm. The movements, the thrusts, his own work to drive out any possibility of resistant thought, were taken as mere matters of course. The sapphire abysses that he called eyes were boring constantly into the vixen, leaving an endless pool of light for her to fall, fall, fall into. To drown away her thoughts with repeated ideas, to bury them in eternal oceans of deep blue.

To transfix what was known as a superhero.

I like fishing. A thrust into her left another soft grunt, though the empty expression of his prey never changed. It was the same, unceasingly entranced without the concept of arousal, nor the thought of excitement.

There wasnt much of a thought anyways.

Not the actual sport, as it were. No, I like the concept. His voice betrayed nothing; no rush, no need. His words carried only the slightest tinge of computerized pleasure and pride, covered with a blithe speaking manner that a normal person might use to discuss stocks or the weather.

He was not a normal person, as the voiceless vigilante was learning.

Catch. Thrust. Release. Pull back. Catch. Release.

Nngn

The expressionless muzzles could only hide so much when the eyes were giving it all away. Darkwitt let his own lights narrow themselves, focusing as the invading microbial machines worked to take away something, to work and write in the enthralled superheroine before him. Each movement was the same; similar force, similar angle, similar pace. There was no rush.

Not when Stormwave was busy staring. Eyes blank, empty, distant. A bit of glassiness over the pupils, hiding the subtle blue glow which had started to well up from their endless depths.

Like you. You think you can find me. Take my servers. One spare hand indicated the computers he spoke of, though pointless. His own desire for theatrics sometimes drove the shadow of the criminal world to act up, as he so rarely carried these interviews on in person. It was simpler to work through others; crime bosses, soldiers...

Proxies, the lot of them.

Now he relished the feeling of using his real body. Mostly. A hologram covered him, if it was even really him. His mindless guest didnt know, and it was all the same at this point; a personal touch to work at her mind, drawing away those pointless pieces of intelligence, time and again.

He throbbed in her, allowing himself a moment of indulgence.

I could take you. Break you. Change you But not today. The previously posturing hand moved over, running itself through Stormwaves twin-colored hair. There was a desire to change, to dominate, that the calculating crime boss had to fight against. To take away this mind for good, to erase it into his endless rapture of servitude and obedience. The time, he knew, would come.

Still, she would look so much better in blue.

He pushed once more, allowing his body a moment of excitement, of a rush. The time for the climax of his so properly orchestrated show was coming.
Youre useful. Chaotic, popular, powerful I would do myself a disservice to remove you.

Darkwitt let his expression change a little bit; the eyes twitching, drawing into a different shape. A smile, though even someone unfamiliar could see how devious it was.

Zyla, in her haze, saw nothing but the blue. Brilliant, bright, endless, deep. Her mind was suffused, exploded in the glorious light of what had once been considered thought. Nothing came forward except an empty, dull ache of what could have once been considered consciousness. Whatever had invaded her senses had stopped that before it even began; a being of pure entrancement had replaced Stormwave.
So today, I will let you go. Because it pleases me. Not because you escaped, but because I allowed it. You wont remember this place, this server room. My sanctum. But you will remember that.

Every single word was punctuated by the increasing glow of the shaft within the vixens passage, tugging away more and more of her ability to react. Soft gasps were all she could respond with, even as the powerful use of her form was becoming more in line with a true fucking.

Her eyes glowed blue, brighter and brighter, as the words took charge. The sight gave a small surge of pleasure, both from accomplishment and confirmation, to the cybernetic canine.

Any time I want, whenever I desire or decide, you will be caught again. Maybe I will release you, maybe I will keep you. But I will catch you, Stormwave. You will know this.

Once more he leaned in, thrusting firmly. Time and again, for a few moments, to allow himself to reach the end of this period of self pleasure.

The climax at the end was almost boring, he thought. Even as his member pulsed into pure light for a moment, throbbing and shuddering, he felt almost let down at the end of this stage of the game. The torrents of synthetically enhanced seed flooded into the body of his mindless captive, writing her into ways that her brain had never thought, but he still knew it.

It was the game that Darkwitt sought after, rather than just the victory. Bringing even one chapter to a close, or finishing placing a piece in just the right area, would bring only short relief to his ever-growing ache for control.

And you see, Stormwave. That is why I like fishing. Its not the end Its the hunt. What do you think? Cyan fire burned in the pupils of the superhero for a moment, flaring to life as her restricted brain struggled to think of a response.

Ngnn

Good girl.