The Superheroines found their temperatures rising both externally and internally. As their captor luxuriated in comfort next door, watching their travails on a comprehensive visual system. He sniggered to himself as he watched dazed and confused faces strain to pull themselves together, regain their footing or even try to contain a succession of fluids leaking from their debilitated bodies.
Confused hands stroked grotesquely swollen breasts - wondering why they were suddenly so large, and so tender. Not thinking about what they were doing, their gentle caresses became more probing and eager as sweat poured from their exposed skin and milk poured from their engorged nipples. And as they did so, the dull throb from their pretty pussies becoming an ever-stronger tingle; shocked beyond measure, they clutched themselves that their bodies could be reacting in this way. But open palms attempting to control themselves suddenly saw fingers splay as their fragile focus dwindled, exploring themselves ever more eagerly, sweating, gasping, chests heaving as they inexplicably found themselves masturbating enthusiastically.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of their weakened minds they knew they should be acting differently, controlling themselves; regaining a measure of their position and role ready for the return of their captor. They should be trying to stand, regain their balance, figure out how they could function in their current condition, that as 12 athletic young women they would have no need to regain their supernatural abilities to earn their freedom, rather than being entirely reliant on Wonder Woman's fragile hold over what she thought was her fable lasso.
But instead each one of them fingered themselves more frenetically, glazed eyes focussing entirely on their inappropriate out-of-control desires rather than then their far more urgent needs...
Meanwhile he made a meek and docile expression to ease any lingering doubts that he wasn't under Amazonian control. He pushed a trolley in front of him, full of what he had promised to be antidotes for their condition.
But as he entered the room, in perfect synchronicity, each one of them came explosively. His timing was truly perfect, his companions recognising his return just before the inevitable. Like naughty little girls with their hands in the cookie jar, they froze in place with their feeble fingers wrapped around their own cookies - they couldn't let him see them like this! Frantically they tried to compose themselves, to gain a measure of decorum - but as their attention was divided so catastrophically; they lost any measure of control that they desperately needed just to keep themselves continent; each one noisily shat themselves and looks of resolute defiance collapsed immediately to shock and fresh humilation.
He hammed it up delightfully and bowed before the stricken Wonder Woman; "Powerful Princess Wonder Woman, I have returned with the antidotes for you and your colleagues -what do you command me to do now?"
Sitting in a double pile of her own faeces, her quivering inflated chest covered in her own sweat and milk, and barely beginning to recover from a shamefully self-induced orgasm; she did not feel like so much of a Princess. But she'd seen how fragile her control over him was, and she needed to try to restore themselves before he recovered his senses.
"H-hand them out", she gasped uncertainly "And quickly!"
He dutifully handed each stricken heroine an oversized baby's bottle, full to the brim of viscous white fluid.
"Suck all of this down", he nodded to each in tern. "Soon you will feel it's effects".
They guzzled greedily at their rubber teats, eager to restore themselves. Lifting theme heavy bottles was a real strain, and each heroine felt fresh shame in the effort of holding their arms aloft. But they had to overlook this. Soon they'd be back. Soon he'd pay!
Supergirl burped prettily, eager to restore her formidable powers. "I'm going to punch you into next week!", she promised joyfully
Alongside her Powergirl relished the chance of the removal of pain - the shock of him ripping out her golden fleece still roaring inside her; "After me cousin! I'm going to show him what happens when he messes with Superheroines!"
Firestar pondered if she could burn his way through to his tonsils from his ass.
The Invisible Woman suggested that the Thing needed a new sparring partner.
The Green Lanternette informed him of a particularly unpleasant intergalactic prison where he would spend the rest of his days.
With great relish, Zatanna told him that she'd make sure he could never control his bowels again, and whether he'd like having a 3mm cock?...
The Black Widow was the one that realised. As her 11 colleagues got ever more excited at their impending restoration and how they might exact revenge, she quietly looked down on herself. With no powers to restore, she simply eagerly awaited some semblance of normality, to feel her bladder tighten, her limbs to again feel like deadlyweapons rather than wet dishrags. She stared shamefully down past her bottle and through her cavernous cleavage at the appalling mixture of vile fluids that had poured out of her unhindered, at the fiery ref curls of her once most private of areas - how could he have abused her so easily? She'd make him pay! And then she realised, she was straining her neck ever more to see her own crotch...
"G-girls" she whimpered uncertainly, but not before stupidly draining the rest of the vile fluid. "I think my boobs are getting bigger..."
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