Scorpio and the Women

Photomanips by Piston Thorn. Caption by Mr. K.

I wondered if these were their mothers. The men paid such deference to these mature women - these quiet, older matrons – they entered the room and collected me. The Women smiled, and The Men nodded their “hellos.” I couldn’t really tell how many of them there were altogether, but there were three that scooped me up. They were … moms, it seemed. They wore spandex and workout clothes. Sweat shirts, and sneakers. They looked as though they dashed out of the house to pick up kids from daycare. All they picked up, though, was me.

“We’ll take care of this messy girl,” one of them said, almost lovingly. She was buxom and blond, with a stylish quaff that swept up with frosted tips. She was the one who pulled my legs together and tucked them under her arm. She was indifferent to the gobs and splattered of semen that almost coated them. Another mom, a redhead, had moved behind me and scooped her arms under mine. As they lifted me, she joined her hands in a clasp under my breasts, and pulled me up against her. I could feel large, soft breasts against my back. A third one wrapped an arm around my waist, again, indifferent to the thick layer of cum that they had laid down on me.

They carried me off to the next room, where warm soapy water flowed and churned in a deep tub. I was awake, and limp as they undressed me, slowly stripping away my red costume.

“You’ll mend this up while we bathe her, yes?” the blond said to the redhead. She was handing her my cum-stained, wadded-up, costume.

“Of course.” She spoke with the same dream-like calm as the first woman. She took my costume and rose. I lay naked across the laps of the other two women.

“Let’s be thorough.”

I was still paralyzed by The Frequency as they slid me into the water and meticulously washed me. Every now and then, they would look into my eyes and smile as they shampooed and scrubbed me. I was a helpless prisoner, but I felt I could have dozed off in their arms.

“You’ll love your new owners,” the blond mom said as they lifted me, finally, from the water. I heard myself exhale gently as they laid me out on warmed towels and set about drying me. I remember how gentle and careful they were when it came to my vulva.

“Always make sure she doesn’t cum.”

“Always.”

The one who was mending my costume came back just as they were finishing with my drying. My skin tingled, and, for a moment, I forgot that I was a captive who’d spent hours being used as a sex toy. There was a vigorous warmth that ran through me as they rubbed me with rough towels and strong matronly hands. I was their prisoner.

“Here,” I heard one say. I could only stare the ceiling, but I saw the red mass of my costume pass from one hand to another.

“Thank you, dear,” said the blond. She pinched the material and let it unravel. My scarlet and black costume – ultra skin-tight when it was on my body – was displayed in the warm, fragrant air in front of me.

My costume was more than mended. It looked new. I wondered what these women were. Magic users?

Whatever the case, my costume looked new – not mended, but new.

“Let’s get you ready.”

They dressed me, chatting as they went.

“She’s lovely. She reminds me of the wife that purchased her, not just because she’s Japanese, but … it’s the elegance.”

“Yes, lovely elegant features.”

They slid my costume back on to my body, over my limp limbs and up to cover my torso. The returned my mask to its proper place covering my eyes. There was a moment of them looking down at me, mature, full-bodied women looking at their helpless superheroine captive. Soon, though, they scooped me up again. One of them alone was probably strong enough to carry me, but they all took a portion of me. Two of them took a leg each. Two took an arm each. One got place of pride, holding my hair and keeping my head up.

They carried me down a hall and into a neighboring room. As we entered, I was immediately greeted with the hot smell of wood and power tools. Someone had been cutting, sanding, and building.

As, they moved me around the room, I could see the center of all of this. The work tables, the tools, the saw dust and wood scraps, in the middle of it all was a box.

A box. There was a narrow, long box full of packing material. It was my box.

“Do you have the DVD?” I heard one of them ask. They had positioned me over the box, my handlers standing on both sides of it.

“Yes. It has her capture, and the sex feast. It also has her full profile, including powers and history.”

“Splendid.”

They gently lowered me into the soft embrace of the packing material – the “popcorn.” I felt the crunching embrace of the material folding around me. I looked up at The Women looking down at me.

“Sleep,” said the blond. As my vision faded, and the lid was lowered into place, I heard the men giving a cheer from the other room. They had another superheroine.