The Cameras flashed incessantly as her pushchair rolled into the room. Was that really her? Why was she wearing a diaper? And virtually nothing else? Why were her breasts so huge? It was well known that one of her powers was being able to change her body - why had she chosen to make them so ludicrously big? And why was she clearly pleasuring herself?
"Ladies and Gentlemen. Meet the real Supergirl - the one that she doesn't normally let you see. Look for yourselves at how she demonstrates her morality as she pleasures herself in full view of the worldwide press. Look for yourselves how she has twisted her own body to increase her opportunities to abuse herself. Look how she has to wear a diaper - a diaper! - not just because she appears to further her own sick desires; but I can vouch at the cost of my own office that this 'heroine' cannot event control her own bladder! And ask yourself one key question - with all the supernatural gifts at her own disposal, she cannot even condescend to cease her self-abuse to support even her closest friends!"
Supergirl was utterly appalled. How could this be happening to her? How could he say these things? How could she be in this situation? Where had all these cameras come from? How could she get out of this? Why was she such a pathetic victim and no longer a triumphant heroine? AND WHY OH WHY COULDN'T SHE STOP ABUSING HERSELF? She maintained enough self-awareness that she knew that somehow she HAD to act - while she could hardly debase herself any further, if she couldn't do something, then the lives of her friends would not be worth living. She summoned everything that she had, to desperately find one last surge of power; to leap out of the chair, to ideally speed once more into the air, through the ceiling, and to an ignoble escape. Even if she could at least leap to her feet, she may seize some initiative, and make some form of escape. She closed her eyes, pulled together the last vestiges of hew shattered heroic persona, and moved into action.
One thing didn't happen. Two things did. Her ravaged body moved not an iota, she could not pause even in frigging herself. But two things did. Her mighty tits spurted milk so vociferously they covered several gentlemen of the press. And she noisily shat herself. No potty this time, no trail of filth left behind her as she sprawled across a desk. This time she had catastrophically messed herself, was unable to slow the flow let alone stop it, and had to sit in it. Even the large dildo filling so much of her anus offered her little protection (but instead it loosened the already incredibly lax muscles still further.
"Gentlemen, I'm sorry about that," he apologised. "She seems to find new ways with which to humiliate herself. We are caring for her as best we can, but this supposedly virtuous heroine keeps disappointingly slipping into new depths. I'm afraid that she did indeed just soil herself. But at least it helps you understand what we are dealing with."
"I promised you before that she would have the chance to speak, and before you leave that will be the case. But I am a fair man and I will not allow any woman to argue the case for her own virtue while sitting in a pile of her own faeces. But it is not fair to ask you to wait on her still further, when clearly she has clearly prioritised pleasuring herself over addressing the Gentlemen of the press. 'Super'girl," addressing the fallen heroine, "I presume you have no objections to changing you here and now."
Supergirl attempted to scream out 'No' with everything that she had. But she had no breath, and no strength to help herself. Instead she could only imagine a forceful ejaculation, picked up by every ear and microphone in the room.
"I guess we'll have to take that as a no", he said, shaking his head disappointedly.
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