"... And definitely a breathable atmosphere. And, thanks to some truly ingenious thinking by yours truly, we know there are some contaminants suggesting combustion of fossil fuels. Here's a clue to how I did it: lasers. Really small lasers."
Reed Richards looked tired on the video-screen with the soft green sky behind him, but he still managed a smile at Iron Man's egotistical joke. Tony managed a laugh too before wincing in pain from his bandaged ribs.
"That's not all, is it, Tony. You've got a bigger rabbit to pull out of your hat. Or your helmet."
"Ah, my genius is recognised! I'm not telling you how I did this one, but D.N.A." Tony enunciated each letter like it should produce applause. "Probably human, possibly chimp, definitely as close as an ape."
A little tension leaked out of Reed's face, leaving a lot behind.
"Wanda's gone somewhere we can follow. Safe's a strong word but a city with people is better than 99% of parallel universes. I think."
"I wish I could be there to help, Tony. But I've done everything I can to delay Galactus, but he's still going to be here in two days. The evacuation of the Monoandran planet is going to be hard to achieve..."
"Harder to achieve without the likes of Carol Danvers and Sue Storm."
Tony felt a little guilty at the sudden loneliness in Reed's tired eyes at the mention of Sue.
"Tony, we've been over this. Even with the risk of destruction they refuse to let a woman into their space. You'd be here, along with every other man who can fly a spaceship or herd refugees, if you weren't so banged up."
"I've put together a rescue team," Tony changed the subject, "to travel through to the other universe. I think I can manage to send two through; recharge time is going to be hours. I'm thinking a powerhouse in case of trouble and someone a little more subtle
in case the troubles a little more subtle."
"Have you resolved the issue with synaptic disruption during the crossing?"
"Well, we'll find out. A good scientist experiments after all."
"Tony..."
* * *
"Like, hello Selina. You are like, whoa, really a catwoman now. Trippin'!"
With Harley and Delivery Girl's attention focussed on the captive Batgirl, Housecat was purposefully stalking over on all fours to Ivy the Flower Child Hippie. Willing Wanda's spell on Selina Kyle meant Housecat was permanently in heat, and she'd heard Harley
instruct Ivy in her new love of free love.
Both women were naked, Housecat having shed her clothes to have fun with Willing Wanda whilst Ivy's had magically vanished.
"Mrowww, Ivy," Housecat circled her vacuous prey. "All that sex pollen and you and owner never took advantage of me? Housecat is disappointed."
Housecat rubbed along one of Ivy's legs, charges of electricity pouring sexually charged thoughts into the Flower Child's bimbo mind.
"Like, that's a total bummer. I'm like into free love now, so we should totally bang."
Housecat was wrapped halfway round Ivy now, the dippy hippie shaking as static electric pleasure travelled up her legs to explode in her clit and nipples. With her ass she knocked against Ivy's unsteady legs and the Flower Child tumbled over her back to
land flat on the floor.
"Pet me," Housecat commanded as her pussy descended onto Ivy's still stunned face. Housecat rubbed her breasts over Ivy's chest sparking more uncontrollable electric desire into the hippie beneath her. She would wait with her tongue until Ivy had lots of
fresh cream ready to lick up. Ivy deserved a little teasing for not breaking her mind and fucking her like this before.
Housecat began to purr again as Ivy's hands petted her pubic hair, kisses between her thighs until tongue found pussy lips and fingers found clit.
* * *
Two women fell from a rippling tear in the sky into a strangely transformed alley in the grimy gothic sprawl of Gotham City. By the time they had fallen the two floors required to reach the ground the tear had vanished in an implosion of violet lightning.
One woman was blonde with a powerfully muscled body, though her curves were generous enough that no-one could doubt her feminity. She was a head taller than most women, taller than most men and carried herself with a forceful confidence. The fall had not
hurt her. She had landed on her hands and one knee and now rose unsteadily to her feet. Beneath her the concrete had shattered, concentric circles of cracks marking the spot her body had struck. On this world she might be mistaken for an Amazon, from whence
she had come it would be goddess.
The other woman was a red-head, her stature more normal but her curves more sensual on her acrobat's body. She did not land on hard concrete, even scrubbed magically clean, instead with reflexes honed almost past human ability she caught the dangling ladder
of a fire-escape and gracefully controlled her fall to land in a rainbow-painted dumpster. Despite the cushioning of lingerie and sextoys she still grunted out a quiet swear-word in Russian.
Both women were completely naked, though it was harder to tell with the one in the dumpster as she spat a purple gel dildo from her mouth and half-walked half-swam to the metal edge.
"We have arrived," the blonde woman began, addressing the red-head and then paused in sudden puzzlement with her mouth open as if searching for a word.
"A rough ride," the red-head began in reply till she suddenly paused with the same expression of puzzlement.
"Brave comrade, I confess I have no memory of your name though doubtless the bards sing of your mighty deeds."
"I-- I-- I don't remember," the red-head's voice had a touch of fear in it now, "What is your name? I can't remember!"
The pale-skinned blonde's chest puffed with pride which put her large breasts on prominent display. The red-head felt something stirring within her. Standing in a dumpster filled with items created by wild and wanton magic was just beginning to affect her
by proximity.
"I? I am--
The two woman looked at each other with worry and the realisation that their memories were absent.
"We are here on a mission, we have to... Find someone. I think," the red-head said.
"Aye, I feel you speak the truth. We are here as hunters then. But have we been sent without arms or armor? And why do we misremember ourselves and our goal?"
"I don't know and I don't like it."
"Though this place seems sweet enough I like not the brooding towers around us. They speak of a place cloaked in darkness and danger."
"We need a disguise. We'll attract less attention that way."
The blonde looked at her blankly for a moment, before nodding. The idea of a disguise had been so obvious to the red-head she couldn't understand how the blonde hadn't thought of it immediately.
"Aye, very well. But how shall we attire ourselves?"
The red-head thought. Somehow she knew that dressing differently would mark them out. That it could be even more dangerous than emerging naked. Then she spotted it, a discarded newspaper.
"Pass me that newspaper."
The blonde looked around and spotted the few pages from an old copy of the Daily Planet. Unfortunately, unknown to the two women, Willing Wanda's magic had transformed the newspaper. An exclusive interview of Diana, Ambassador from Themyscira, with Lois
Lane had been transformed into a detailed report of their fucking and exactly how a lover should play with Wonder Woman's body. Jimmy Olsen's photoshoot had become a pornographic centre-spread of the two beauties tribbing along with a variety of shots of Lois
and Diana in various states of undress.
The red-head skimmed the text, unaware that she should be surprised to be able to read it, and examined the photos.
"Looks like we're in luck. The contents of this dumpster seem to be in fashion."
"These?! These are immodest, aren't they?"
"I've worn clothes like this before."
"Perhaps you are a harlot?"
"Perhaps," the red-head agreed easily. She thought she had worn clothes like these for work. "Find something that works for you."
The red-head had sifted through a few pieces of lingerie in innocent ivory and racy red, but her attention had rapidly been captured by black PVC and black lace. She was certain that black was the color for her. Once she had made that discovery the rest
was simple. Soon she was wearing a lacy black merry widow with a demi-cup that gave her a generous cleavage and long spiral wires clad in black satin which forced the gauzy black silk of the short hanging girdle to follow the curves of her body. The thong
she wore was made of the same PVC as the demi-cup and she had thrown a pair of six-inch black heels on to the ground in front of the dumpster, ready to slip on.
The red-head paused a moment and then rolled a black lacy garter up each leg. A clear thought burned through the mess her mind was in: she'd feel better with a knife or a gun in each garter.
Beside her the blonde was having less luck. She had carelessly tossed a dozen items of lingerie behind her, from leopard-skin loinclothes to a frilly French maid outfit. Caught in the sexy clothes were a variety of dildos and buttplugs amongst other harder
to name items.
"These fripperies are not worthy of a warrior," the blonde proclaimed with disdain.
"So, you are a warrior?"
"Aye, tis true. I know it," the blondes voice grew happier as it grew more certain. "I am a shieldmaiden."
"There's some hope for our memories then. I still don't remember what I am. But I think I know where to find what you need."
With that the red-head executing a perfect tumble turn in the dumpster and swam down through the slinky clothes. By her feet she had felt hard metal, sunk down through the lighter outfits. Her ass remained above the level of lacy lingerie, bobbing with her
movements. The red-head felt her heart beat a little faster, her pussy grow moist as she thought of the blonde watching the sight, unaware of the more powerful effect of enchanted thong over her nethers.
The red-head took a little longer than strictly necessary before coming to stand once more. She handed the blonde her finds and with a grunt of resignation the other woman dressed herself in chain-mail bikini top and bottom.
"Tis armor of a sort," the blonde announced sourly. "Was their nought better?"
"No," the red-head replied at once, lying. She had found a bra of metal cones and a skirt of long metal strips open at the front. But she wanted to dress her companion like this. She lied so easely and well the blonde showed not the least sign of doubt.
It felt good to manipulate the other woman. Whoever she was, she was used to lying and deceiving. "Now help me out of here."
"Very well," the blonde easily lifted the slight red-head out of the dumpster. The red-head was almost as tall as the blonde once she was in her six-inch heels. But the blonde was distracted. As the magic of the sexy chainmail costume began to affect her,
her eyes roamed the red-head's body, admiring her curves, enjoying the wiggle of her ass as she put on the shoes and looking down her marvellous cleavage as she rose to stand.
The red-head looked her in the eye and something passed between them.
"Let us begin the hunt," the blonde announced gesturing for the red-head to lead the way as unfamiliar feelings surged within her. The way the red-head's butt swayed as she stalked forward only stoked the flames of the blonde's new desires higher.
The amnesiac superheroines Brunnhilde the Valkyrie and the Black Widow Natasha Romanov dressed in sexy ensorcelled lingerie left the enchanted alley and headed into the mean streets of Gotham City, looking for a girl.
* * *
Delivery Girl's face fell as she realised she wasn't getting to transform Batgirl for her sexy boss-lady. Then she remembered this was already a big three honk job and her preppy vacant smile returned full force.
Willing Wanda on the other hand was filled with glee at the prospect of transforming another heroine into one of Harley's themed lesbian love slaves. She cleared her throat and waved her wand in preparation.
"A Harley Scout is always prepared
sexy and perverted, innocent and sweet
By her sexy uniform girls are ensnared
The paradox of slutty innocence complete."
The trussed up Batgirl struggled against the ropes. She'd almost sliced through the cord around her wrists with the blade concealed in her yellow gloves when she was covered in glittering hearts and bright stars of magic from the Wanton Witch's wand.
When the blinding light disappeared left behind was a red-head the radiated innocence in a demure brown uniform with a long skirt. She was the perfect girl next door, a box of cookies on her lap.
Harley was about to express her disappointment when the young woman smiled a smile of the most concentrated wicked lust. Like an optical illusion but more powerful the uniform was gone and yet still there. Beneath it was a brown dominatrix constume and Bratgirl's
face no longer radiated innocence but malevolent sexual desire. Harley felt magic washing over her, uncertain what it would do to someone not immune to spells derived from Willing Wanda's magics.
"Hey, troop leader, want to roast some marshmallows and then fuck some
cheerleaders?"