DairyWorld2

ARCADE’S DAIRY WORLD

by Scarlet

WARNING: This story contains sexual situations and sexual violence (nc, MF). It is to be read by adults only. If this sort of material is not to your liking, then read no further.
Credits: This story is based on a story idea suggested by The Sexecutor. Captain America, Nick Fury, Black Widow, Psylocke, Storm, and Scarlet Witch (Marvel Enterprises) and Batgirl, Wonder Woman, Huntress, and Hawkgirl (DC Comics) are Trademarked characters used in this not-for-profit fan-fiction; no Trademark infringement is intended.
NOTE: Click on images to enlarge to full size.

Chapter 2. Huntress

“Did I hear what I thought I heard, behind me?” the Scarlet Witch asked softly as she watched Fred, the dairy manager, try to force the breastless Batgirl to drink the ejaculate he had scraped off her, Wonder Woman, Storm, Huntress, and Hawkgirl’s faces into the glass he now held before her face. “Damn, that second wave of face humping has left my jaw sore!”

“Arcade’s evil seems to have no limits, Wanda,” Ororo Munroe whined softly as she watched Batgirl relent and drink down the offered semen in one big gulp. “He adds the disgusting defilement of oral rape to humiliating forced milking. My jaw is sore too, perhaps nearly dislocated, but that’s the least of our worries. It seems Arcade wasn’t satisfied with the flatness of Batgirl’s chest, and is having another guillotine that he thinks will debreast the rest of us more efficiently brought in.”

“Indeed, Storm, and from what I can tell, they are nearly done preparing the new guillotine behind us,” Wonder Woman interjected with an uncharacteristic quiver in her voice. “However, I don’t think that is what Wanda was asking us to confirm, Ororo. Yes, Scarlet Witch, instead of removing the original guillotine, Arcade told his lackeys to replace the guillotine module with the pendulum blade module and move it to the side of the room where we milk cows can see it. It seems there is a good chance that we bigger breasted superheroines will lose our womanly orbs to slow intermittent slices.”

“Well, as they say in my favorite vacation destination, ICE HOT, Princess Diana,” Wanda Maximoff chortled softly while trying to keep her voice low enough so that Arcade couldn’t hear. “I’ve already had my girls knocked off with a guillotine blade, and they say variety is the spice of life. I’ll take the slow, slice by slice, separation of my girls from my chest rather than re-experiencing a very unpleasant memory, despite the likely millions of people around the world watching, and Arcade’s clearly stated intent to make THIS set of breasts my LAST set of breasts.”

“I thought I told you to shut up, Scarlet Witch!” Kendra Saunders hissed softly as she shivered in her milk stall. “It’s hard enough to keep my spirits up knowing that I’ll soon get maimed as Arcade takes away my girlish curves, without hearing you talk about it fondly. I don’t think my C-cups are going produce milk a whole lot longer. The pleasant glow in the center of my breasts is starting to become a rhythmic pulsing burning sensation. Besides, there is another reason for you to shut your trap, Wanda. Arcade and his goons might not have heard what you said, but they probably have microphones trained on each and every one of us. Arcade’s putting on a show, remember, and we’re the involuntary porn stars!”

“Hawkgirl IS right about the latter, Scarlet Witch,” the Huntress agreed softly with resignation replacing the resolution she had been able to exude in her voice earlier. “I’m pretty sure every word we say is being recorded as well as transmitted, so you just told the world that the Riddler’s claims about debreasting you months ago are true. I shouldn’t be the one lecturing anyone about carelessness though. I’m embarrassed about the language I used earlier. However, Kendra, regarding your first point, Wanda IS right to be trying to make the best of a bad situation. I really hope that the pain accompanying debreasting IS manageable, and if it really is possible to find an erotic side to amputation, I will try to do so. I’ll have to, and soon! I’ve been feeling that pulsing burning sensation in the cores of my boobies for many minutes now, and I’m quite certain that the squirts of milk coming out of my breasts with each suck on my nipples are diminishing. I’ll be the girl demonstrating whether the new breast guillotine is more efficient than the old one!”

“NO!” Kendra spat forlornly as she stared down the line of glass milk storage tanks to the Huntress. “Helena, are you sure?” Hawkgirl frowned as she watched the Huntress nod with a sheepish grin on her face. “Great! You just verified that my titties aren’t going to be titties much longer. How have the rest of you managed to produce such prodigious quantities of milk, anyhow?”

“It’s probably related to cup size as well as genetics, Hawkgirl,” Ororo replied softly in a quivering voice. “However, I don’t link one iota of my self-esteem to my ability to fill a milk jug, unlike a certain auburn-haired Avenger I know. I’m just teasing, Wanda. How are you and Wonder Woman doing?”

“Don’t worry, Storm, I won’t let myself get offended by the truth,” Wanda Maximoff replied in a pleasant tone to try to raise her fellow superheroines’ spirits. “I’m still squirting strong, and, in fact, the level of milk in my storage container has almost caught up with the level of milk in Wonder Woman’s storage container. I’d joke and claim milk production was one of my mutant powers, but in view of the seriousness of our current situation, I’ll admit it’s probably due to cup size and practice. As Arcade said, Wonder Woman and the Scarlet Witch are popular girls to be used as milk cows by the lactation-infatuated villains of the world. Do you agree, Princess Diana?”

“Yes, Wanda, I suppose I do,” Wonder Woman concured softly as her face reddened with embarrassment, “although I, like Storm, take no pride in THAT particular talent. I too am still squirting strongly, but will find no joy should I produce more milk than you do. I must admit, Wanda, I am most concerned. The look on your face told me your alien machine will not regenerate our breasts if the wounds are allowed to heal naturally for the several weeks Arcade means to keep us captives. The Goddess Gaea made me wait a full day before she healed the last wound inflicted on my womanhood through my own carelessness and unbecoming behavior. I don’t think I will find Gaea generous yet again should I return to my sisters without the Royal Orbs of Themyscira upon my chest.”

“I was going to ask you about how things turned out, what with our girls’ night out together ending badly for you, Diana,” the Scarlet Witch replied with a silly grin on her face as she remembered Wonder Woman’s declitting in the 41^st Century, and the failure of the Chulu nanogene tissue regenerator to repair the beheaded organ when the girls had returned home to the 21^st Century. “I’m glad that your womanhood was not permanently diminished, and I’m hoping we can keep the Royal Orbs of Themyscira where they are, or at least escape Arcade’s clutches in time to get them regenerated. Ah, Oh! Here comes Fred! Something’s up!”

“He’s coming for me, Wanda,” the Huntress interjected in a soft quivering voice. “I’m not sure I’m producing much if any milk now.”

Indeed, Fred, the dairy master, stopped in front of Helena Bertinelli’s milk stall and began checking her dials and gauges. “This one will be ready for you in a few minutes, Mr. Arcade,” Fred called out jubilantly as he nodded to the quivering brunette. “Who shall we bring out to fill her empty stall? I had the holding cell guards fill Stargirl and Psylocke’s tits with the lactation-inducing drugs, a syringe full for each udder, right after they brought Hawkgirl out.”

“Let’s go with Psylocke, Fred,” Arcade replied with a chuckle as he checked to make sure the new guillotine was ready. “We haven’t harvested any Oriental milk yet. We’ll use Stargirl when Hawkgirl runs dry. Go ahead and prep the White Queen now, but hold off on the Tamaran. I think the Scarlet Witch and Wonder Woman will both be squirting for a while longer, and I want to keep the huge-titted babes like Starfire in the center stalls where they’ll get more time being center screen for our viewing public. That way our ratings will go through the roof when we feed one of the huge-titted superheroine’s tits to the pendulum blade! By the way, when Shadowcat gets here, leave the neural inhibitor collar on her and bring her right out. I’ve decided to forgo her milk and hang her for our audience’s viewing pleasure. I’m betting she’ll get a kick or two out of that!”

“Oh, and Fred,” Arcade chortled softly with a mean grin on his face, “despite the fact that I was right and the Huntress will be the next heroine to be hanging from the display rack to show off her titless chest alongside Batgirl, a metahuman will soon be joining them. Don’t you think you better power up the display rack’s metahuman power suppression field, as well as hook it up to the same electrical circuit that will flash fry the girls in the milking stalls if anyone, inside or outside of this complex, tries to interfere with our operation. The more superheroine lives at stake, the more reluctant the goody two shoes will be to take a chance on trying to prevent a few milked dry superheroine cows from getting their udders hacked off.”

“Okay, Mr. Arcade,” Fred replied chidingly as he grinned at Ororo, “I’ll go ahead and light up all of the racks. From the sounds Storm is beginning to make and the dropping milk-flow rate on her stall’s gauges, I’d say the ex-Queen of Wakanda will be the first metahuman showing off a nice fresh pair of circular chest wounds. Camera control, have all lenses focused on the milking stalls, including the one you have on Batgirl.”

Once he was sure the cameras were all pointed the other direction, the dairy master walked over and opened a camouflaged panel between the two featured display racks and closed two circuit breaker switches, causing a series of lights to flash on below a row of five similar lights next to another pair of switches. Fred reclosed the panel and returned to inspect, first Storm’s, and then Huntress’s milk stall gauges, before calling out, “Camera control, you’re free to shoot as the broadcast producer sees fit.”

Helena Bertinelli moaned softly in disappointment as the sound of her breast pumps suddenly changed pitch and rhythm. The Huntress knew that change meant her breasts had just run dry of mother’s milk. Soon, she would be getting locked into a debreasting guillotine with her treasured boobies under a sharp, heavy blade. “Sorry girls,” Helana declared forlornly, “but it’s time for me to part company with you. Wish me luck!”

“Don’t give these fiends the satisfaction they desire, brave Huntress!” Wonder Woman urged softly in a resolute tone. “Do not let them see the fearful trepidation they want to force upon you as they threaten to take your womanly orbs. Know that they will take the orbs regardless, so accept fate’s decree without complaint.”

“Do even better, Helana,” the Scarlet Witch added in an encouraging tone, “embrace your debreasting as a new experience. Soak in the threat to your sexy curves. Maybe the threat will become sexually seductive. Then concentrate on the sexual arousal growing in your loins. If you can do that, perhaps, before you know it, your debreasting will be behind you, as will be the worst of the pain. Good luck, Huntress!”

“Where’s my replacement cow?” Arcade called out loudly as Storm and Hawkgirl echoed Wanda’s final three words, and Fred pulled the milker cups off of the Huntress’s breast tips. “Ah, here she is!” Arcade proclaimed with obvious jubilation as he stared at the tall Japanese girl wearing only flat thigh-high boots and shoulder length gloves—both purple in color and having segments missing from them, primarily higher up on the clothing articles—and a red sash knotted around her waist. The long raven-haired mutant seemed unbothered by the fact that her less-than-spectacular-sized breasts and pretty vulva, the latter surrounded by a rather full bush of au naturel pubic hair, were now on display before a worldwide audience.

“Psylocke, let me repeat what I’m sure my men have already told you,” Arcade announced rather glibly. “The milk stalls and display racks have been rigged so that a massive electrical charge will be sent through them at the slightest hint of trouble. Once triggered, anyone in those stalls or dangling from those racks will be thoroughly electrocuted, fried to a crisp even. Not even Wonder Woman would live through it. If you value your friends’ lives more than your tits, you’ll cooperate and let me milk you dry before I debreast you like I did Batgirl, and am about to do to Huntress. Go ahead and remove Psylocke’s neural inhibitor collar!”

Betsy Braddock nodded silently to Arcade as the collar around her neck was removed, and turned her head to look at the Scarlet Witch, who was staring intently at her with her brow furrowed in concentration. Psylocke continued returning Wanda Maximoff’s stare, ignoring Arcade, and ignoring the dairy master who was opening the Huntress’s stall’s restraints. Psylocke knew full well that Helena’s release meant Betsy herself would soon be locked into that very stall to be breast milked before a worldwide audience—there were widescreen, high definition television screens in the holding pen area. Psylocke ignored everything but the Scarlet Witch’s intense stare, and the knowing look on the mutant/witch’s face. Wanda was trying to tell her something important!

“Okay, Psylocke, come over here and climb up onto the milking stall,” Fred called out tersely as he pushed the Huntress over to Arcade, before chiding harshly, “unless you want to watch the Huntress take the chop, and get a good view of what’s soon in store for you?”

“NO!” Psylocke shrilled, seemingly panicking badly. “I’ll let you strap me into the stall restraints…but…but first…can I see…Batgirl’s wounds…up close. I want to see what I’m in for…probably in an hour or less. I want to see what you’re going to do to me…to my pretty chest!”

“Sure, toots!” Fred chortled loudly with obvious satisfaction while crossing the room to take Psylocke’s arm. “Right this way. I think you’ll agree, you’re going to earn some wonderfully butt ugly circular scars where those pretty hooters of yours now hang.” Fred laughed as a crestfallen look formed on Batgirl’s face as he pushed Psylocke before her. The dairy master grinned as Psylocke stared intensely at the two wounds on Barbara Gordon’s chest. Two minutes later, Fred barked, “All right, that’s enough! Let’s get the milkers on you, you Asian hottie!”

“No, not yet!” Psylock pleaded softly without breaking her vacant stare. “I need another minute! I need to feel the wounds with my fingers! I’m sorry, Batgirl! I know this will add to your discomfort.”

Fred shook his head in disbelief as Psylocke, seemingly in a trance, slowly reached up to finger Batgirl’s right chest wound with her right hand, causing Barbara Gordon to grimace with agony and try to twist away from the light touch. Betsy used her left hand to hold Batgirl in place, completely ignoring the tears streaming down Gotham’s heroine’s face. Then Psylocke became as still as a statue, and stared forward with vacant eyes. A minute passed, and as the dairy master reached out to pull Betsy’s hand away from the ravaged chest before her, Psylocke’s arm suddenly dropped downward. “Very well!” the Japanese girl suddenly declared. “I am ready!” Betsy turned and nodded to Fred, and then nodded to the Scarlet Witch, before walking briskly toward the back of the empty milking stall.

As she reached the stall, Psylocke noted that Arcade now had the Huntress secured to the debreasting guillotine with the brunette’s perfect-shaped C cups hanging out of the oval cutout formed by the lunettes, and that two men were replacing a partially filled milk container labeled ‘Huntress’ with a not-yet-labeled empty container. Betsy smiled sheepishly at Helena as she admitted with obvious remorse, “I’m sorry, Huntress, but there is nothing that can be done to prevent what is happening to us. Good luck! I will join you in hanging from the display rack soon enough. I do not believe my mammary glands to be particularly efficient. I fear the time when other girls, curious as to their own imminent fates, will stand before you…and then me…to examine the ragged wounds on our flattened chests up close.” Psylocke watched the Huntress nod once and then watch with a forlorn look on her face as the container containing her precious lactation fluid—the last Huntress milk there would ever be—was carried out of the main dairy chamber by Thorne’s couriers.

Without saying another word, Psylocke climbed up onto the milking stall and felt the milking stall’s metahuman power suppression field close her telepathic mind to the outside world. Soon, Fred had the stall restraints secured and the milkers attached over Betsy Braddock’s turgid nipples. Psylocke was now a human milk cow!

Nick Fury pounded the top of the huge flat-screen monitor table he was leaning over with his right fist as he barked into the intercom microphone in his left hand with his thumb pressed down on the call button, “I want options, people! We got superheroines to rescue, and we’re gonna do it safely! Someone get the schematics of Arcade’s dairy facility up here on this here map table, STAT…that’s right, the flat-screen in my private ready room. S.H.I.E.L.D. ain’t gonna take this shit lying down!” Colonel Fury, dressed in his black combat bodysuit and black boots and armed with a black leather shoulder holster with his 9 millimeter automatic in it, released the call button and pushed the intercom microphone away with disgust on his face, and then watched the communication device sway two and fro as it hung from its ceiling cord.

“Easy, Nick,” Captain America urged softly as he stood beside the Director of the country’s premier law enforcement and intelligence agency, “you’re not going to be helping those girls if you give yourself a stroke. We’ll think of something! Unfortunately, before we do, I think more than a few more superheroines are going to get debreasted while Arcade broadcasts their sordid punishment for running out of breast milk to a worldwide audience.” The famous superhero and leader of the mighty Avengers was dressed in his trademark red, white, and blue costume, with his round patriotic shield slung around his back.

“It’s a God damn X-rated reality show TV marathon!” Nick Fury roared with obvious frustration as he nodded to the high definition widescreen television on the wall just beyond the flat-screen map table. “You can bet millions of perverted sons of bitches out there watching the show were jerking off while watching Batgirl getting her ta-tas offed. Now Arcade’s getting ready to slice off the Huntress’s milked dry jugs, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it…or the God damn erection that won’t go away no matter how many times I tell myself that what I’m seeing over there on the wall is disgusting, NOT erotic!”

“Don’t let what Arcade is doing to those brave girls…or to us…become a guilt trip, Nick,” Steve Rogers implored with obvious embarrassment on his reddened face, “My own erection…which must be painfully obvious to both of you…is a sure indication that I’m finding the sight of superheroines getting forced milked and then breast guillotined erotic…despite the terror, horror, and, ultimately, agony I know those girls, many of them my fellow Avengers, are feeling or about to feel. I guess that makes both of us perverts, Nick.”

“Or it makes all three of us tragically human, Captain America,” the third person in the room, Natasha Romanova (anglicized to Romanoff by her American friends), also known as the Black Widow, interjected in a quivering voice. “Despite the horror that gripped my heart like a clenching fist, watching Batgirl’s moneymakers get lopped off made me wet, and I am getting wetter with eager anticipation of watching the Huntress’s severed breasts suddenly in freefall. To be honest, if it were not for my responsibilities to S.H.I.E.L.D., I would not be here now. I would be knocking on the door of Arcade’s dairy, hoping to negotiate my colleagues’ release, but knowing full well I was most likely setting myself up for my own breast milking followed by the breast guillotine’s sweet embrace.” The Black Widow unconsciously fingered the round zipper tap at the top edge of her black, skin tight, bodysuit’s neck, just below her chin while staring downward at her black calf-high boots. She had a golden belt consisting of interconnected disks around her hips, and wore long gold bracelets on each wrist that seemed to be made of a circle of interconnected tubes.

“That’s just great, ain’t it, you yahoos!” Nick Fury spat angrily as his patience began to dwindle. “You might be making me feel just a tad less guilty about having an erection, but you’re not doing a thing to help solve the problem of how to go about saving those superheroine bimbos…no offence, Widow…out there in that dairy. For that matter, making me feel better about my hard-on isn’t solving the discomfort of having it, is it? I have half a mind to toss both of you lunkheads out of here so I can have some privacy.”

“Yes, those…boners, I think the slang word is…do look pretty painful!” Natasha chortled softly as she carefully assessed the bulges in her male colleagues’ crotches. “I have an alternative to your suggested solution, Colonel Fury. Why don’t you have the Contessa join us here in the ready room. Then you men can take us from behind as we girls bend over the map table, and we all watch the Huntress’s sexy moneymakers get guillotined from her chest…unless you’d rather Nick send for Agent 13 as well, Steve?”

As Nick Fury watched a sheepishly grinning Captain America shake his head, he reached up to the intercom microphone and held the call button down as he barked, “Agent de Fontaine to my private ready room, STAT! Now, Tech Services, where in the hell are my diagrams of that dairy facility? ESP Division, I thought you had telepaths on my payroll; why don’t we have any intel from the superheroines inside that dairy? I need information and I need answers, people! GET TO IT!” As the Director released the call button, he proclaimed with obvious satisfaction, “Good thinking, Black Widow! It’s about time someone came up with a useful suggestion around here!”

“Lean harder into the lunettes, Huntress,” Arcade hissed with a mean grin on his face as he tugged hard outward on the swollen nipples tipping the breasts protruding outward from the oval frame, “remember, I’ll hang you to death if you leave me much work to do during the post-guillotine removal of your remaining milk ducts and breast tissue lobules. You’ll get no post-debreasting tit tissue regenerations, as the Scarlet Witch now admits SHE did. I’ll not be disappointed to find all the hard work that went into debreasting you…and all the others of your ilk that I can get my hands on today…wasted, as the Riddler’s work with Miss Maximoff was.”

“I’m doing my best, you asshole, Arcade,” Helena Bertinelli replied tersely in a quivering voice as she adjusted her position slightly and pressed her breastbone even more firmly into the metal encircling her precious boobies. “I don’t believe in Wanda’s fairytale about some alien miracle machine, so as far I’m concerned, this is an in for a penny, in for a pound situation. I’m not going to care how big my breast stumps are after you drop that blade through my boobies, anymore than you’re going to care how long your penis stump is after I track you down when this nightmare is finally over and done with.”

“Ah, much better, Huntress,” Arcade chortled with obvious satisfaction while the Huntress began issuing a low moan of discomfort as he dug the nails of his thumbs into the nipples he was tugging on, one in each hand. “Tighten the chest strap around her back one more time, Blackie, and then I think we are ready. Huntress, when this day is done, you better lose those vengeful thoughts and leave well enough alone. If I ever catch you on MY tail, you’ll find yourself taking a spin in Murder World…spins actually…until the venue lives up to its name.”

“Maybe a good fuck would take the sass out of the Huntress, Blackie,” Arcade continued chidingly as he locked eyes with Helena and released the pressure on her turgid nipples. “Would you like that, Huntress? Would you like to be raped by Blackie on worldwide television? Would you like to have cum dripping down the inside of your thighs while you watch that heavy, razor sharp, slanted blade begin its downward plunge towards you…towards those knockers that men so love to play with as they make love to you?”

“No, Arcade, please don’t have Blackie rape me so publically,” Helena replied hoarsely with terror and disgust on her face. “I couldn’t bear being brought to climax while being forced to contemplate the imminent amputation of my boobies. I’ll stop making threats. Please, just get my mutilation over with! I don’t care how much it’s going to hurt! I don’t care that I’ll soon be hanging from a bondage rack next to Batgirl…waiting to have my ugly chest wounds inspected by a colleague, like Psylocke did with Batgirl. Debreast me now, Arcade! Just don’t let him rape me too!”

“Finally!” Arcade cried out with a laugh. “I thought I’d never get the chance to hear the Huntress beg for her own detitting. I’m guessing Blackie isn’t horny enough to rape you just now, anyhow, Huntress. After all, he’s fed cum to superheroine gullets twice in the last…oh, I don’t know…ninety minutes. Unless you want to stay and watch the detitting, Blackie, go ahead and get yourself some refreshments. Start looking for another gang of horny bikers while your resting and recharging. We should probably give these superheroine milk cows another round of protein shakes in a few hours. I can’t have my cows starving on me, can I?”

"I guess not, boss,” Blackie replied with a silly grin on his face. “Just so you both know, though, I’ve got another nut load I could have dumped into the Huntress here. You got lucky, bitch! I’ll head to the back room, boss. I need to check on the progress of the kidnap teams, anyhow. I wouldn’t want to find out what happens if we run out of dairy cows before we’ve collected the volume of milk we’ve promised Thorne!”

“You paged me, Nick?” Contessa Valentina Allegro de Fontaine asked softly as she stood near the entrance to the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s private ready room after opening and stepping through the closed door. “OH! I see you DO need me, Nick…for a special duty assignment, no doubt,” Val continued glibly as her blue eyes suddenly filled with laughter and she reached up to make sure her raven-black hair, with her trademark strip of hair dyed platinum-white running through the top of the hairdo, was still being held in place with her yellow hair band. She grinned as she nodded to the Black Widow, who stood facing Val with her skin-tight bodysuit’s zipper lowered all the way down to the top of her pubic mound’s red landing-strip, exposing the inner halves of the Russian-born girl’s perfect-shaped C-cups to view, and then to Captain America, who’s hands were hooked into the top of Natasha’s garment as he prepared to pull the bodysuit down over the Black Widow’s shoulders. Val quickly closed the door to the room behind her.

“You always were a real bright girl, Val,” Nick Fury replied as he stared hungrily at Val’s purple long-sleeved leotard with the cutouts that exposed the sides of her trim abdomen, and the low-cut top that just hung to the tops of her arms leaving the Contessa’s upper back, shoulders, and upper chest exposed. A yellow belt strap attached to the center of the garment’s back and the cloth just at the top of her right perfect-shaped B-cup prevented unintentional clothing mishaps. The yellow gun belt around Val’s waist with its ammo pouches and holster reminded the Colonel that the beauty before him really was one of his lieutenants. The yellow calf-high high-heeled leather boots completed the Contessa’s sexy ensemble. “Watching Arcade do his nasty work with those superheroine bimbos…again, no offense intended, Black Widow…has created a couple of delicate problems in here. Natasha offered to help with one of those…delicate problems…and suggested I might be able to rely on your help with the other.”

“While what that evil madman is doing to my colleagues is truly horrifying, Val,” Natasha interjected while she grinned with satisfaction as Steve Rogers finally managed to pull the sleeves of her bodysuit down off her arms, finally fully displaying the Russian-born spy-cum-Avenger’s magnificent breasts to everyone’s view, “these men, and I, have found the sexually sordid sight of watching those superheroines being forced to perform fellatio while being breast milked arousing, and, surprisingly, Batgirl’s debreasting even more arousing. Nick needs help with his painful erection, as I’m about to help Steve with his. If you find the idea of watching the Huntress getting debreasted while you’re being taken from behind….”

“And here I thought it was just me, thinking those nasty thoughts,” the Contessa chortled softly as she stepped forward and set the smart phone she had been carrying down on the map table, followed by her gunbelt. She winked at the Black Widow who was busily pushing her bodysuit down over her hips with Captain America’s help, “Fortunately this leotard is designed to let me quickly catch up when I find myself falling behind in making my assets available, Natasha.” Val giggled as she undid the buckle of the belt strap over her chest just above the base of her right breast, quickly slid her arms out of the long sleeves, one sleeve at a time, and let the leotard drop to her ankles. Val deftly stepped out of the leotard, bent, grabbed, straightened up, and set it on the table, while quipping, “Yeah, that’s right, I don’t wear undergarments. Come on boys, you’ve some catching up to do. If you don’t start taking us from behind, we might be too late to enjoy the Huntress’s funbags making wet double plops!”

Steve Rogers, realizing the remainder of the Black Widow’s disrobing would be better handled by the heroine herself, straightened up as he pulled his hands away, and then whistled as he took in the Contessa’s shapely breasts with turgidly tipped pinkish-brown areolas and then stared at the neatly trimmed Bermuda triangle above Val’s pretty vulva. Captain America noted the moist and puffy inner lips slightly extruded from her delicate cleft, and the swollen clitoris at the top of the cleft. “Well, Nick,” Captain America quipped softly, “Val, there has just presented us with some pretty good evidence that watching superheroines getting debreasted does make her hot.”

“Keep your eyes on the girl you brought to the prom with you, Cap!” Natasha spat with a wicked grin on her face as she gingerly turned to face her fellow Avenger, taking care to keep from tripping over the bodysuit she’d decided to leave around her booted ankles. The Black Widow laughed as a kid-in-the-candy-store look formed on Steve’s face as he looked down at Natasha’s own vulva, which demonstrated her own arousal by exhibiting equally moist and puffy inner lips and an even more engorged clitoris, both swollen due to sexual excitement. Natasha’s laughter grew as Captain America reached forward and began palming the undersides of her breasts while circling his thumbs around the engorged nipples tipping her silver dollar sized brownish-pink tipped areolas. Finally she urged with a tone of obvious need, “Show us what you’ve got for us, boys, and then help me to keep from falling as I try to shuffle to and bend over this end of the map table, Cap.”

“Yes, do show us those delicate problems that caused Nick to summon me, boys,” Val chirped in her sexiest bedroom voice, “and then mount us and start fornicating. I want to be fairly close to climax when the guillotine blade falls, and Arcade just stepped over to the blade release handle.” The Contessa nodded to the image on the high-definition television screen on the wall where Arcade could be seen fingering a tall lever to the left of the guillotine.”

“Not a problem, Val, baby,” Nick Fury chortled softly. “I’ve had the same kind of pee port sewn into my combat uniforms that most of the superheroes equip their costumes with. You just unzip all the way around the port, like this.” The Colonel chuckled as Val and Natasha’s full attention were suddenly on his crotch. “And make sure to put the circular patch of clothing where you can find it when you’re done.” Nick casually dropped the port cover on the map table before working, with a bit of a struggle, his very large, rock-hard penis through the port and into open air.

“Now that’s the climax maker I’ve grown to love,” Val chirped with a giggle as she gently fingered Nick’s exposed manhood and stared at Captain America’s crotch bulge with interest. She watched the male Avenger grin sheepishly as he unzipped his own pee port and tossed the blue port cover onto the end of the table nearest him. Then Steve carefully forced his huge manhood out in the open, to jut forward in front of him. The Contessa let out a soft gasp, before jovially suggesting, “You know, Nick, you might want to consider taking that Super-Soldier Serum they gave Cap. That monster must be a foot long!”

“Ten inches, not that I'm admitting to have taken a ruler to him before,” Natasha chortled softly as she tugged on Captain America’s mushroom shaped penis tip, “but, more importantly, I think at least, it is two inches thick. Now, help me over to the table, fearless leader, and put that monster in me. We must use what time we have left before Arcade tires of taunting the Huntress wisely.”

“Black Widow is showing good sense with that last bit, Val,” Nick Fury interjected with sternness in his tone, “now bend over the damn flat-screen monitor map table doo-hickey that still doesn’t have my dairy facility schematics on it, and let me remind you that it isn’t the size of the weapon that matters, but the ability to use it…not that I’m commenting about Cap’s ability…I’m just saying….” Nick Fury chuckled softly as Val gasped loudly with pleasure as he entered her, followed a second later by a similar gasp from the Black Widow. Soon, all too familiar humping sounds accompanied by moans of pleasure filled the room as the room’s four occupants gave the high definition television screen on the wall in front of them their full attention. Arcade was jiggling the blade release lever while the Huntress stared up unblinkingly at the guillotine blade above the bases of her breasts!

“You have teased and threatened the Huntress enough, Arcade,” Wonder Woman growled angrily as she tried to twist her head backwards to see her imperiled colleague in crime fighting, but couldn’t because of her milking stall’s neck restraints. “Huntress is not going to beg…either for her freedom…or for you to finally diminish her womanly assets. Get on with whatever you must do. I am quite sure that the viewers whose television screens have been invaded by your depraved broadcast are getting bored with jibes and threats as well. Just as most of your initial viewers will eventually tire of your sophomoric treatment of the superheroines many of them idolize, despite the obvious interest that I admit will be piqued by our nudity.”

“Wonder Woman is right, Arcade,” the Scarlet Witch admonished with a giggle, “while I admit you’ve got a pretty comprehensive and well thought out plan in most respects, you’re letting yourself down with what will probably be your one and only opportunity to hold the attention of your worldwide viewers. This is your one chance to secure a worldwide market, not only for the blue-tinged milk you’re stealing from us celebrity human cows, but also for the clothing accessories you say you plan to make the hides of our pilfered breasts into. You’re blowing it because your making your broadcast two dimensional…it’s all milk her dry and then chop off her breasts. Where is the ingenuity that you put into Murder World…where the contests are about people risking their lives…but having SOME chance to survive? Think about that, Arcade, the opportunity…some sort of contest…that allows us to try to avoid being debreasted!”

“I’m not going to get to expose you uppity do-gooders for the frauds you are if I don’t even try, am I, Wonder Woman?” Arcade spat back sarcastically as he fingered the guillotine blade release lever. “Some of you just might disgrace yourselves by losing your famed nerves of steel. Hell, it will probably be one of you big-titted ones as the pendulum blade on the other debreasting machine begins to slowly chew through your…womanly orbs, as you called them…and you begin to realize how much extended agony you’re going to have to suffer through…before your…womanly assets have been diminished…isn’t that how you put it?”

“As for you, Scarlet Witch,” Arcade continued with obvious disgust, “when I hold a Murder World contest, a client is paying me to kidnap people they have a grudge against and throw them into the game so that they can watch them struggle to preserve their lives on closed circuit television. Sure I give them a chance…a very small chance…to win, because you’re right, it makes for better entertainment. However, in this case, I’m the one paying for the broadcast, and the purpose of the detittings is to make each milked dry superheroine’s blue milk the last of its vintage, so to say. No, Scarlet Witch, there will be no opportunity, no contest, where any of you will have any sort of chance to retain your breasts and devalue my milk!”

“Speaking of making someone’s milk the last of its vintage, it’s finally time for you to take the chop, Huntress,” Arcade chuckled as he watched Helena Bertinelli swallow hard and give the slightest of nods as she continued to stare, almost unblinkingly at the heavy, razor-sharp, angled guillotine blade above her and the even heavier rectangular mouton attached to its upper surface, just below the crossbar that connected the ten-foot-tall posts the blade hung between. “I’ll pick a number between one and ten, and, without telling you, when I reach that number, I’ll release the blade.” Arcade frowned as the Huntress ignored him and waited to pay the penalty for running dry in silence.

Helena concentrated on the blade above her, on keeping a stoic expression on her face, and on wetness that seemed to be growing in her privates. The Huntress could tell that the threat to her treasured boobies was affecting her libido in the way the Scarlet Witch had suggested it might. Helena wondered if she shouldn’t have egged Blackie on and got him to rape her; Arcade might have debreasted her as they, perhaps simultaneously, climaxed. It might have provided a distraction from the agony she was about to have heaped upon her. At the very least, despite the debasement it would have brought her, it would have filled the inordinate time Arcade had spent teasing and threatening her. With the thought or rape came additional wetness oozing from her vagina to coat her lower lips.

The Huntress concentrated on the growing wetness as she stared up at the sharp blade above her. It crossed her mind that she just MIGHT be able to climax without physical stimulation, and that thought made her wetter still. She glanced at the small rods protruding from the ends of the mouton that fit into the smooth straight grooves that ran down the inside of each post, and noted that the groves were positioned so that their rearward edge was flush with the forward edge of the debreasting lunettes. The Huntress was surprised to find that the realization that the guillotine machine she was strapped to was designed to slice every bit of her boobies from her chest—to leave only the thickness of the lunettes, about a quarter inch, of breast tissue above her pectoral muscle—strangely erotic, and a warm glow began to grow in her loins.

Helena concentrated on the growing glow, and the growing possibility of climax. Then came the terrible click, and time’s passage slowed to a crawl! Helena moaned in disappointment and gasped as terror threatened to overwhelm her. The Huntress opened her mouth to scream as she suddenly became certain the blade really was moving downward, but somehow choked it back. The low whoosh was accompanied by a rattle as she began to see separation grow between the angled blade’s mouton and the cross bar above it. Then, as the razor sharp blade was suddenly nearly at eye level, picking up speed with every inch of drop, the whoosh was a roar that drowned out the rattle.

The Huntress pushed backwards as hard as she could, hoping to break free of the strap around her back that kept her breastbone pressed firmly to the inner surface of the lunettes. The bold superheroine’s mouth morphed to a grim grimace and a mixture of fear and horror filled her face as the strap held, and Helena realized her precious boobies would remained trapped on the wrong side of the blade, now flashing before her face so close to her nose that she could feel a gentle breeze from displaced air.

Helena Bertinelli held her breath in dreaded anticipation, and a microsecond later felt a gentle downward pull on her left upper torso, and, more troubling, over the whoosh heard a gentle tap that morphed into a ‘pfffiiipptt’ as the gentle downward pull on her upper torso became centered. The Huntress gasped loudly as agony flooded from her chest, the slight downward pull ended, and the mouton flashed downward below the lunettes.

Helana threw her head forward, staring downward with bulging, horror filled eyes, only to gasp again as she saw her boobies still protruding outward on the other side of the lunettes’ oval cutout. There was a loud clang and the whoosh abruptly ended as the guillotine blade bottomed out on the blade stops, just as the Huntress’s rising hope that a miracle had taken place, despite the agony emanating from her chest, was finally crushed. Helena could finally see the red line and small gap between her boobies and the outer lunette surfaces. The Huntress finally detected the downward drop of her treasured chest ornaments. Helena Bertinelli’s heart broke as she watched the downward drop become a tumble. Tears flowed freely from her disbelieving blue eyes as the tumble ended in a loud, wet, double splat, and she stared downward at her jiggling boobies resting on the dairy floor.

“CRAP!” the Huntress shrilled in agony and anger. “MY BOOBIES! Damn it! My God damn boobies! Okay, Arcade, you fucking asshole, you got your way. I’ve been forced milked for the very last time. Your timing sucked though, mister. If you waited another three seconds, I’d have been climaxing loudly while the blade chewed through my boobies. Then you could have even laughed harder, you vicious game-master. Wanda is right, girls, being debreasted and/or the threat there of does have a sexually seductive side to it. What’s more, while being debreasted hurts like hell, the pain isn’t THAT bad! Now, let me out of this thing, Arcade, and put my chest wounds on display for your worldwide audience and my colleagues to see.”

“No, Huntress,” Arcade hissed in angry disapproval of Helena’s rebellious behavior following what should have been a sordidly demoralizing punishment, “I don’t think your titlessness has sunk into your mind yet. I’m going to leave you right where you are, to stare at your severed tits on the floor before you, and to feel the blood from your chest wounds flowing down your belly. Don’t worry! I doubt you’ll bleed to death before I see remorse and defeat filling your lovely face, Huntress.”

A few minutes earlier, as Arcade began his silent countdown, Contessa Valentina Allegro de Fontaine, leaning forward over one end of the large flat-screen monitor map table as she was being taken from behind, urged softly and a husky needful voice, “That’s it! Fuck me, Nick! Oh! Yes! Almost there! Reach around me…grab my nipples, Nick. When the blade reaches her breasts…pinch hard and pull out! I want to pretend that it’s my funbags that are getting sliced off my chest. He’s going to do the Huntress any second!”

“Sure, baby, anything for you,” Nick Fury grunted softly as he humped his manhood in and out of the Contessa’s tight vagina and reached around her upper toso. “I’m gonna splort while I’m tugging though! Now shut up and let me enjoy the show.”

“Do you want me to give you a simulated debreasting too, Natasha?” Captain America chortled softly as he pounded his manhood in and out of the gasping and moaning Black Widow’s tight sex as she leaned over the other end of the high tech equipment, her eyes locked onto the high definition television monitor on the wall in front of the foursome. Steve Rogers moaned softly as he felt himself nearing ejaculation.

“No, Steve,” the Russian-born spy-cum-Avenger hissed softly as she concentrated on the glow growing in her loins and the sordid sight on the television screen, “just keep fucking me, and try to ejaculate when her breasts begin their free fall through air. Now, do what Nick said! I want to concentrate!”

Several humps later, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s personal ready room echoed with a duet of triple sighs of climax as Val had her breasts mauled and both men grunted and gasped as they sprayed warm, sticky semen into spasmodic vagina’s while they all watched unblinkingly as the guillotine blade on the television screen sliced through the Huntress’s C-cups like a hot knife through butter, the severed breasts then dropped and tumbled downward to land nipples up on the floor, and a wet double plop rang out over the superheroine’s gasps of agony.

“YES!” Val cried out as she enjoyed her ongoing orgasm and the sordid sight on the television screen. “The Huntress has been DEBREASTED! Oops! I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t feel this way…but keep fucking me, Nick. I AM loving your climax maker right now!”

“UH, damn!” Nick Fury grunted softly as he stared at the breasts on the screen sitting on the dairy floor. “Like there was any way I was going to stop fucking your tight vagina as it milks me dry, Val! Don’t apologize to me for the cheering. I don’t even know THAT superheroine bimbo. What’s your take, Natasha?”

“UHHhh! OHHHhh! UHHHUH!” escaped from the Black Widow’s throat as she climaxed again while Captain America continued to blast his seed into her womb and she stared at the severed breasts before the debreasted Huntress on the television monitor. “My take is that…oh, yes…keep fucking me…Steve has made a major mess…that’s running down…my inner thighs! That’s it, Cap! Don’t stop! I didn’t mind the cheering! I found the debreasting to be very erotic, although disturbing. I do know that superheroine, and she is no bimbo! However, when they debreast the next superheroine, I’ll ask Cap to do the simulated debreasting like you did with Val. I admit to being curious as to how well I’d take it. I thought the Huntress has shown a lot of decorum in the way she took hers.”

“Yes, Natasha,” Captain America interjected as he continued fornicating with the sultry heroine before him, even though his ejaculation was beginning to subside, “the Huntress has nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t mind doing this again…and again…as the milked dry superheroines are debreasted by Arcade, but I’d really like to be accomplishing something that will eventually put an end to this, and Arcade in custody.”

“Well, it looks like the schematics of Arcade’s dairy facility just came on screen on the map table, Captain America,” Val replied softly in a hoarse satiated voice, “but I’m with the Widow, keep humping boys…at least until we get to see that dairy master pick up the severed breasts and force the superheroines in the milk stalls to look at what is in store for THEM! The looks on some of their faces are priceless…OH! I better take this!”

The Contessa picked up her smart phone while its ring tone sounded, and asked, “Is this important? We are in the middle of a very important meeting! Who? He wants to talk to Captain America? NOW? Oh! I see! Put him through, STAT!” Val held the phone out to the slowly fornicating superhero while he slowly humped his massive manhood into the Black Widow’s semen coated sex. “It’s for you, Steve. A Professor Charles Xavier says he has intelligence from inside Arcade’s dairy, and a plan of action suggested by the Scarlet Witch herself. Keep fucking me, Nick!”

“Professor X?” Captain America spat into the phone after snatching it from the Contessa’s hand. “Yes, this is Captain America. I’m on the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier trying to develop a plan to take Arcade down now.”

“Don’t stop taking me…taking care of the business before you, Steve,” the Black Widow pleaded as the superhero above her slowed his lovemaking due to the distraction. “You can…walk…and chew gum at the same time, can’t you?”

Captain America nodded downward to Natasha as he picked up the pace of his humping, the Black Window grinned with both relief and satisfaction, and they both returned their attention to the sordid scene on the wall-mounted flat screen monitor while Steve asked into the smart phone, “You’ll have to forgive me, Professor, but we have some distractions here. Now, is it true that you have intelligence from the Scarlet Witch, and that Wanda has a plan to put an end to Arcade’s milking and mutilation of her and her fellow superheroines? Furthermore, how did you get it? S.H.I.E.L.D.’s telepaths have been unable to break through the psionic barrier surrounding the complex.”

“I see, the psionics are ineffective inside the barrier, so Psylocke read the Scarlet Witch’s mind once her neural inhibitor collar had been removed after being taken into the dairy room,” Captain America acknowledged as he nodded and fornicated. “Right, the combined force of your telepathy and Psylocke’s telepathy enabled you two to breach the psionic barrier, and Psylocke managed to relay Wanda’s information and plan before the two of you lost your psychic link when Psylocke stepped within her milking stall’s metahuman power suppression field. You say you had just relayed Wanda’s plan to Jean Grey, before you suddenly lost telepathic contact with her!”

“That’s not good news, considering what Arcade means to put every superheroine he can get his hands on through,” Nick Fury hissed softly as he continued plundering the Contessa’s semen-filled vagina, before, after a thoughtful look crossed his face, adding. “Not that I’M going to complain if I get to watch the Phoenix getting tit milked and then detitted!”

Captain America frowned and issued a grunt of disapproval as both Val and the Black Widow giggled and gave Nick a pair of thumbs up, before Steve continued speaking into the phone, “Okay, that takes care of how…now get to the intel and Wanda’s plan. The circuit breaker switches and main power coils to both the metahuman power suppression fields in the room and the electrocution lines to both the stalls and the bondage frames are in the center of the wall in front of the milking stalls? Where precisely? Yes, I understand, centered between the bondage frames in the wall behind an un-insulated camouflaged panel about four feet above the floor.”

“Look, Arcade is finally bending down to pick up the Huntress’s severed breasts,” Val whispered softly with obvious excitement in her voice. “Look, he’s making her look at them, and acknowledge they used to be hers. Oh! My goodness! The thought of me standing in HER place…it makes me hot! Harder, Nick!”

“Yes, me too, Val, and you too please, Steve!” Natasha urged softly and then nodded to the screen. “Look at the befuddled look on the Huntress’s face. She doesn’t quite know how to react. It must be strange to feel so totally victimized…to be so angry while being totally helpless…to be drowning in self-pity.”

“Yeah, sorry, Professor,” Steve Rogers replied into the phone with obvious embarrassment as he continued fornicating with the Black Widow, “I have people in the room with me…watching Arcade’s broadcast…one of the distractions I mentioned. OH! You’ve got similar distractions going on at your school for gifted children? Never mind! Back to Wanda’s plan to get her and her friends out of there before Arcade debreasts them. What do you mean, her plan isn’t quite THAT straight forward?”

“Yeah, it totally sucks to be the Huntress just now!” Nick Fury said in agreement to the Black Widow’s observation, while trying to listen in on Captain America’s side of the phone conversation. “How would you feel just now, Natasha, if that were you standing behind that guillotine staring at those lovely ta-tas of yours dangling in Arcade’s hands? Didn’t you say that, if not for your duties here, you’d probably be knocking on that dairy door?”

“You’ll get to that momentarily?” Captain America said into the phone as he struggled to hold off chuckling as he watched the Black Widow stick out her tongue at Nick Fury while winking and grinning. “I see, Wanda is fairly sure that a combined electro-magnetic-pulse and high-amperage electrical blast will knock out both systems before the electrocution circuit can be auto-closed and flash fry the superheroines. Have you run this by Hank? Oh, the Beast concurs, IF we can get the EMP/electric blast generated close enough to the camouflaged panel. But I don’t see how…? Oh, Wanda thought of that and has a plan!”

Val, now joining Natasha in gasping needfully with each inward thrust of the men behind them, hissed softly, “Look, this time, Arcade himself is going to show the severed funbags to the human cows in the milking stalls. Damn! Psylocke is staring at them with indignation and nonplus, Wonder Woman seems more than a little bit angry and filled with grim resolve, the Scarlet Witch’s face looks like she’s eagerly anticipating HER turn behind the guillotine, Storm is beaming overwhelming dread while she quivers with what must be fear, and Hawkgirl is trembling in terror and trepidation. I wonder how I would be reacting to the sight of bodiless breasts…if I were one of the girls locked into one of those milking stalls knowing that I’m slowly but surely running dry?”

“I’d like to think we both could manage Wonder Woman’s grim resolve, Contessa, but I’d settle for righteous indignation,” the Black Widow replied softly and thoughtfully. “Arcade passed the Huntress’s moneymakers to the dairy master and is headed back to clean Helena’s wounds. Let’s see if we can steal another climax as the Huntress gets her wounds put on display before the superheroine milk cows. Then we can let these boys take a break and get a second wind.”

“These boys don’t need a break, and I think I can speak for Cap too,” Nick Fury admonished softly with a grumble. “Tell you what though, we guys will give you girls a break between debreasting guillotine action, and we’ll see if we can begin building a rescue plan based on Professor X’s information. I’ll have a proposal for you girls when the next superheroine bimbo runs dry!”

“That’s why Psylocke asked to see Batgirl’s wound?” Captain America asked into the phone with astonishment on his face as he steadily humped his manhood in and out of the Black Widow’s vagina. “They’re trying to set up a routine where Arcade will make each new heroine entering the dairy room get a close glimpse of condition she’ll be in once she runs dry of milk. You got the message to Jean Grey to tell all the heroines in the holding cells to make Psylocke’s request to see the fresh chest wounds up close…assuming Arcade doesn’t tell them to do so on his own? I can guess where this is headed, but spell it out for me, Professor.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of blood on the Huntress’s belly! ” Val chirped softly between pleasure filled moans as she watched Helena get freed of the guillotine restraints . “It looks like he’s going to clean her up some before taking the scalpel to the side boob remnants of her funbags.”

“It’s not as much blood as I would have expected,” The Black Widow replied softly as she struggled to hold off an impending climax. “Even without treatment, the Huntress might not have bled to death. As I watch Arcade begin to take the scalpel to the remnants of Helena’s breasts, it suddenly occurs to me that this would be the most debasing, disheartening part of the debreasting ordeal. To stand there in agony while watching Arcade make sure there is no remaining vestige of your precious moneymakers!”

“I see, Professor,” Captain America replied into the phone with obvious disbelief, “you say Wanda wants us to get a superheroine nabbed by Arcade’s men with the EMP/electric blast generator concealed on her, so that she can simultaneously take out the metahuman power suppression fields and electrocution circuits during her inspection of the chest wounds. Yes, I agree that’s a bold plan. Arcade wouldn’t stand a chance against all those enraged superheroines once they get their metahuman abilities back. I’ve got two questions, Professor. Why did you say Wanda’s plan to save her and her superheroine friends wasn’t THAT straightforward, and do you have a superheroine who’s volunteering to be the one to get nabbed by Arcade’s men?”

“Yeah, like I said before, it just sucks to be the Huntress just now,” Nick Fury concurred with the Black Widow’s assessment of Arcade’s wicked deed. “At least he’s making quick work of it, and from the sounds of you gal’s moans, you’ll be lucky if you can hold off cumming until the Huntress gets cuffed to the display rack.”

“No, I didn’t think you would, Professor X, but I had to ask,” Captain America acknowledged into the phone with a growing tone of frustration. “Wanda wants us to do what? Wait until the milking stalls are empty! But that will mean that…! Yes, you know…I see. Wanda thinks the nature of the stall restraints mean that even the briefest of electrical discharges would result in certain death, but the superheroines cuffed to the display rack would have a good chance of surviving a brief discharge. You say the Beast concurs with Wanda’s assessment…but wouldn’t comment on her recommendation. Yes, Professor, we will take Wanda’s plan into consideration. Thank you for your help, and I am sorry for what may be about to happen to your students. I’ll get back to you after this is over.”

“I take it we have a plan for a God damn post debacle take down raid, rather than a rescue mission, Steve?” Nick Fury spat as an obviously disconcerted Captain America dropped the smart phone onto the map table.

“Yes, possibly,” Captain America replied softly with more than a hint of dread in his voice, “IF we can get our hands on a miniature EMP/electric blast generator, and hide an activator within reach of hands…hands potentially cuffed behind the superheroine’s back, and….”

“LOOK…Arcade is pushing the Huntress right in front of each of the superheroine milk cows and making them stare at her breastless chest…presumably on her way to the restraint frame!” the Contessa gasped hoarsely between moans of erotic pleasure. “OH! Nick! Keep fucking me! By the way…didn’t Tony Stark…demonstrate….”

“Yeah!” Nick Fury cried out as he humped hard into Val. “And Stark left us with four miniature EMP/electric blast generator prototypes and two remote activators downstairs in the electronics lab, but they only have a range of about four feet.”

“AND, as I was about to say, Nick,” Captain America continued gruffly as he hammered his hips against the Black Widow’s over and over, “we need a superheroine to volunteer to….”

“I’m way ahead of you, Captain America,” Nick Fury interjected in a reluctant but formal tone. “You’re not going to like this one bit, Natasha, but I don’t have a much in the way of options when it comes to card carrying superheroines. Agent Romanoff, I’m putting you back on active status as a S.H.I.E.L.D. operative. I’m assigning you to take the point on taking Arcade down. After Arcade’s men nab you outside of the dairy facility, they will surely confiscate your bracelets, knowing them to be weapons, and your bodysuit, so that your breasts will be bared for milking. We’ll have to install the remote activator for the EMP/EB generator in one of the rear disks of your belt, which Arcade is sure to make you wear so that the viewers of his broadcast will recognize you as the Black Widow. Unfortunately, and this is the part you’re not going to like one bit, Natasha, the EMP/electric blast generator needs to be hidden on you, or rather in you, about a foot to a foot-and-a-half above belt level.”

“NO!” the Black Widow spat in disbelief as Captain America thrust his massive manhood the hilt in Natasha’s steaming hot vagina. Both the Contessa and the Russian born spy-cum-superheroine plunged into massive climaxes as the full meaning of the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s words sank in.

Nick Fury put his right hand on Val’s bucking back as he reached for the intercom microphone with his left hand and pressed down on the call button with his thumb, and barked, “I want the plastic surgery team in operating room one, STAT. I want a team of technicians in there too with two of the portable short-range EMP/EB generators Stark left with us ready for subcutaneous implant. Send another technician to my ready room to collect Agent Romanoff’s Black Widow belt. I’ll provide instructions when the technician gets here. Communications! Send a recall command to Agent Morse. Mockingbird will be the Black Widow’s backup. Let’s hustle, people! We may not be able to stop Arcade from mutilating our country’s superheroines, but we’re sure as hell going to take him down and hold him accountable.”

“Nick!” Natasha Romanoff gasped softly as her massive climax began to subside. “Have all four EMP/EB generators sent to the operating room. If I must do this, I’m not going to be satisfied with leaving the job half done…and I’m sure Bobbi will feel the same. Also, put the surgery team on ready alert standby. I don’t want to go under the knife until I have to. I’d rather stay here with you and Cap and Val…doing what we’ve been doing.”

“Listen up, people,” Nick Fury barked as he pressed his thumb on the call button of the intercom microphone, “I have a slight modification to my instructions. The surgery team should be ready to go, but it might be a while before I can get their patient to them. Technician team, I want all four short-range EMP/EB generators ready for implant. And make sure the technician headed to my ready room knocks and waits outside. I got classified activities taking place in here.” Nick released the intercom, paused, and then hesitantly announced, “Well, I know my timing sucks, girls, but I may as well broach that proposal I said I’d make when the next human milk cow ran dry…err…now. Do you want to swap partners each time a newly debreasted superheroine bimbo gets hung from the display rack?”

“NICK!” Captain America spat with obvious disgruntlement. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit callous? You just ordered the Black Widow, here, to….”

“Stop, Cap, I can handle my own battles…as well as follow orders,” Natasha intervened softly but firmly. “If Val doesn’t mind, and unless you’re trying to hoard me for yourself, let’s do as Nick suggests…at least until I have to report to the operating room to have the EMP/EB generators inserted into my…. Val, do you want to swap?”

“Indeed I do, Natasha,” Contessa Valentina Allegro de Fontaine replied with an ecstatic grin on her face. “A girl would be a fool to turn down the chance to give that super soldier’s inseminator a spin. Trade places, guys! And thanks, Natasha, for being the bravest girl I ever met. If you hadn’t agreed to…to Nick’s plan…he probably would have asked me….”

“No…he wouldn’t have, Val,” Natasha replied in a quivering voice as Nick Fury and Steve Rogers swapped ends of the map table, “because you don’t have the necessary credentials. He didn’t ask Agent Natasha Romanoff to accept a suicide mission…he asked the Black Widow. Nick, I want you to slowly sodomize me, until they begin releasing the next milked dry superheroine bimbo’s stall restraints. I want to be able to say with a straight face that you just ass fucked me twice.”

“I’ll give you any kind of sex you want, Natasha,” Nick Fury replied with a chuckle as he positioned the glans of his penis against the Black Widow’s puckered sphincter. “I owe you that much for accepting the assignment. However, it’s not necessarily a suicide mission. He may not let you get close enough to the target for you to implement the generators. In that case, we have to assume that he’ll want to put you in a milking stall. If that happens, I’ve got Mockingbird as backup.”

“Not good enough, Nick,” the Black Widow croaked and then groaned as Fury’s penis pushed into her anus. “This plan of yours…or rather the Scarlet Witch’s…better damn well work. Because if I fail and get stuck in one of those milking stalls, you’ll only have about an hour, I’m guessing based on my cup size and the Huntress’s milking stint, to perform surgery on Mockingbird…and please don’t put her through it until you know I’ve failed…and get her kidnapped for dairy use. Don’t wait for me to run dry, Nick. Because if I fail and he uses the guillotine on me, he’s going to find out what we were up to, and likely hang me on the spot in front of a worldwide audience. Do you understand?”

Val momentarily took her eyes off of the high definition close up of the breastless Huntress next to the equally breastless Batgirl to watch a grim-faced Nick Fury nod. “Cap, what are you doing, pulling out of me?” Val asked softly as she returned her eyes to the television. “I was just beginning to get used to having that big bitch tamer inside me. HEY! Hold on a minute! Black Widow asked to be sodomized, not me! You’ll split me like a log with that thing!”

“I think, Contessa, that sharing the Black Widow’s taste in sex for a few minutes is the least you can do to show your respect for her brave acceptance of one hell of a lousy mission,” Steve Rogers replied with a hearty chuckle as he began pressing the tip of his manhood against Val’s back door. “Besides, I think we both know that I’ll fit fine.” While the Contessa groaned in discomfort as he began to work his manhood past her sphincter, Captain America continued with, “Say, Nick, did I ever tell you about the day, so long ago, when I blackmailed an 18-year-old Scarlet Witch, just a few days after she and her brother joined the Avengers, into surrendering her anal virginity to me?” Two men roared with laughter while two women grimaced as they were forced to take it like a woman should.

“Well, this really blows big time, Doesn’t it, Batgirl?” the Helena Bertinelli whispered softly as she stood with her hands way above her, cuffed to the bondage rack. “Being milked on worldwide television may have been degrading, but it didn’t feel that bad. I think the agony that accompanied the guillotine blade slicing through my breast bases was the worst pain I’ve ever felt. My chest is still burning and aching. Now we have to stand here and let the people at home stare at our chest wounds. Like I said, this blows big time.”

“You’ll get used to the pain, Huntress,” Barbara Gordon replied with the closest thing to reassurance that she could muster. “And while it’s a bit troubling to know that everyone is looking at OUR injuries…it’s probably a lot more troubling to our friends over there in the milk stalls to be seeing what’s in store for them when they run dry…knowing that we’re going to get to watch, rather than just hear, their breasts get lopped off…including Wonder Woman’s massive knockers!”

“Batgirl, you’ve just proven that the old adage is true,” the Huntress spat softly while she giggled, “there is a silver lining in every cloud! I wonder who we get to watch being debreasted first…well…next, I guess…in your case?”

To be continued?

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