3 days had passed since the curse began and most superheroines were now begrudgingly accepting their fates. The prudish Power Girl's now gargantuan rack now was an almost grotesque visual demonstration to encourage enough of them to get the most fun out of giving different people orgasms every other day, even if most still refused to bed supervillains. A few were even enjoying it - using the curse as a license to enjoy sex with their superhero crushes, saying that they wanted to be able to stand up straight by the time this was all over. Namor now delighted in alternating his evenings between Emma Frost and Susan Richards while Gambit suddenly found himself in high demand with the ladies of Gotham City. The boys of Young Justice found themselves being eagerly passed around the busty young ladies at the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, teenaged hormones getting to run wild.
Some superheroines, however, were either too stubborn, too obsessed with justice or just thought they were immune to the curse . . . and one was all three.
***
Princess Diana of Themyscira stood before the United Nations and completed her speech, secure that her gods and the Golden Lariat on her hip would protect her from any grotesque sexual curse.
"Again, the nation of Themyscira asks all of you to do what is right - please, donate your nation's time and your resources to helping us stop human trafficking. With a secure network in place, we can take the women who would have been made into slaves and transport them to my island where they can heal and learn to defend themselves. A vote for my Empowerment Initiative is a vote for your sisters, your mothers, your daughters and women everywhere."
A thundering of applause greeted Wonder Woman as she concluded her speech. She saw votes lighting up - the initiative had passed handily.
With a smile, Diana took a step back from the podium and walked back to her seat as Themyscria's ambassador, confident that she had inspired the nations of the world to do good. Well, most of them anyways, she thought ruefully as she noted the usual glares from the ambassadors of Bulgaria, Latveria and Bialya. She primly sat down, ignoring their glares . . . and too late she noticed the feeling of something wet and sticky under her bottom.
"What is-" she began but it was too late.
"Aloha, Amazon! I've always dreamed of getting you all sticky under the waist but not quite like this!" came an annoying voice directly behind her.
Deadpool, she thought with a scowl, as she attempted to stand, the chair awkwardly glued to her. Ambassadors around her began to flee in alarm at the sight of the unstable mercenary.
"No, no, don't get up! I've got an awards speech to give!"
Deadpool pulled the trigger on an odd gun and Diana instinctively raised her bracelets to block the bullets . . . but instead a huge amount of sticky white liquid came rushing out, gluing her arms together and blinding her as she fell to the floor face first.
"I'd like to thank Paste Pot Pete for letting me borrow his glue gun, this plastic claw I got from a .99 store for helping me steal your shiny rope and the guy at the typewriter for letting me get away with this!"
Diana struggled but the merc was too fast - he had her golden lariat and given both of her ample tits a honk while making a "Awooga!" noise before teleporting away - all before she could even react.
With a grunt, she flexed her way out of the superglue. She opened her mouth to speak to let others know that the danger was likely over but they should still evacuate in a calm manner . . . but nothing came out. In fact, her mouth refused to open at all. She thought perhaps it was the glue but then U. S. Ambassador Peter Henry Gyrich snapped at her.
"This is outrageous! This sort of nonsense is why metahumans don't belong in government!"
Wonder Woman had long knew just what sort of trollop she despised the most - any woman who willingly chose the life of a slave, abdicating her own voice and power to that of a man. Now, without her lasso, it seemed all the good deeds she'd been doing in the past 3 days were catching up with her . . . as was the lack of sexual acts she'd performed.
She groaned as her breasts expanded like hot air balloons, eagerly overfilling the cups of her bustier, her glued arms barely containing them as they spilled out and the front of her bustier tore.
"You're right, Sir." she heard herself respond in a meek voice, head hanging down as she blushed. "I'm very sorry, Sir. This is all my fault, Sir."
Diana, Princess of the Amazons, now knew that she could now not speak unless spoken to by a man.
She had to obey all commands a man gave her.
Every man she met must be referred to as "Sir" or "Master".
Most importantly? She must never, ever disagree with a man.
Inwardly, she raged against these horrifying mental changes but all the United Nations saw was a chastised Wonder Woman barely able to cover her own tits as she meekly stared at the floor and just took a tongue lashing from Henry Peter Gyrich . . .