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"Ms Walters, would you care to cross-examine the witness? Assuming you've got your outbursts under control, of course?" the judge asked, all but rolling his eyes as he did so, the stenographer shaking with stifled laughter, the force nearly shaking her
neat bun loose as a ripple of less restrained giggles made it's way through the gallery to the jury box.
Jennifer's face went scarlet, a colour normally reserved for Bruce's wife's branch of the family. In some ways, it'd be less embarrassing if she'd Hulked out, lost control and gone savage. At least then she'd be lost in the fugue of gamma ray power, primal
drives and fury. Heck, even if it was something as simple as her mind going blank at a crucial moment, that'd be less shameful. But neither of those were true. She was still petite, slim, mousey-pretty Jennifer Walters, albeit now a Jennifer with the top button
of her blouse somewhere on the other side of the courtroom. And her mind wasn't blanking on what she wanted to say, on her legal strategy, the precedents and procedural missteps she wanted to point out in order to get an innocent client acquitted. No, she
was able to conjure up each and every argument she meant to make, the correct counterpoint to her opponent's tactics... and then put an equal amount of effort into coming up with something inane and vulgar to ruin her reputation. She could already hear the
odd whisper from behind her, the few colleagues who'd stopped in on this session of the case murmuring that maybe the rumours were true. Maybe She-Hulk's shallow, slutty reputation wasn't an exaggeration. Maybe the theory about the gamma power revealing the
'true' person was right.
"Huh?" she heard herself say, the pattern of blinks, the cock of her head and airy tone of her voice pitch-perfect in suggesting she'd been paying no attention at all. Despite Jennifer willing herself, screaming inside her head that she wanted to question the
margin of error on the security footage enhancement, her mental wheels kept turning down another road, "Oh, no, sir! ADA McDreamy looked so yummy up there, how's a silly girl s'posed to think of law stuff!"
She topped off the ridiculous, demeaning display with a girlish giggle and a wink at the Assistant DA in question.
"Ugh, very well, Mr McDream- McDermott, your next witness?" sighed the judge.
The muttering and laughter resumed. And, to Jennifer's ashamed dismay, so did the heat in her cunny. The stiffness in her pert nipples. The more unfit for the bar she made herself seem, the more like the worst excesses and stereotypes people ascribed to her
green-skinned alterego, the more she destroyed any escape from that perception, any chance that she could turn back into this form to hide from the ogling, mocking, jeering, leering eyes and catcalls... The wetter she got and the lower she needed to sink their
opinion of her....
"Whoa Susie!" chuckled the Human Torch as he briefly flamed on to dry most of his svelte, model-like body, "Trying to get Reed away from the lab or is it time for the Slut-lympics again?"
Sue shivered, pushing her tits out a little, feeling them sway, feeling the heat from his flames lick the bared creamy flesh of her cleavage. She tried to fight the worries that niggled in her warped head, her boobs were a bit droopier than the pert or artificial
ones of Johnny's normal conquests... but they were bigger than any but the most absurdly 'enhanced' of his bimbos, would that offset the sag?
"Reed? Yeah right!" she giggles, intending to inject mock-sarcasm and a theatrical eye-roll into her response, keeping things playful... Instead the sarcasm came off biting and she couldn't help but roll those blue eyes with boredom before sneaking a glimpse
of her little brother's arms... chest... and lower, "Figured I'd see if I can still take a medal in the Ho-nastics, seeing as no-one wants to help me practice the BJ Sprint!"
She forced a playful chuckle, more successfully than her attempt at light teasing of her husband, the part of her that knew how wrong this all was hoping he'd see it as a sister playing along with his lewd joke. The other part of her, the part that wanted to
doll herself up like the Black Cat, Emma Frost, or any one of the pretty, trashy young skanks half her age that he brought home from the clubs... She hoped he wouldn't just offer to help her practice... she hoped he'd drag her to some tacky-yet-expensive nightspot
and have an 'exhibition' meet.
"Heh... um... can I help you?" came the slightly bemused replay, the towel wrapped around his now dry waist as he looked at his skimpily, whorishly clad and made-up big sister, the soccer mom of the New York superhero scene, like she'd just tucked her skirt
into her panties...
Susan's breath caught in her heaving bosom. Unlike most of the others, she'd been dealing with the horrifying needs long enough to have had time to ponder them. They were impossible to resist, she'd determined that early. But she'd considered why it was this
kind of perversion, not some kind of phobia. After all, she was a modern woman, any individual part of this she might've been able to deal with if it had cropped up once in a while normally. The need to dress up, show herself off... Reed did tend to get distracted,
maybe she just wanted some validation. The exhibitionistic urges, the desire to be thought of as a vapid, cheap fuckdoll, a woman in her 30's acting like a teenage starlet, a little odd, but many women craved a little release from stress, from needing to be
strong and independent... fantasies like that happened. Even the taboo of fraternal incest, she MIGHT have been able to rationalise... But the whole package was the perfect combination to overwhelm her. Not just wanting to be sexy, not just wanting to be treated
like a tart, but the idea that she couldn't resist Johnny's sleazey playboy charms, that she'd fall at his feet like any of his groupies... It was a perfect storm of awful desires designed to make her hate herself... and to make her so horny that she could
barely stop herself from arching back against the sink and running a bare foot up under that towel...
She'd resist. She would. She didn't need to tease him. To feel his member against her, even just her toes or sole... To find out if she could make him hard. To see how he'd look at her, knowing even his sister wanted to spread for him... That just thinking
about it was getting her twat juicing, dripping... God, he could probably smell her, what was the use? No! She'd fight... resist... She would...
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