Supergirl wasn't sure what was worse, the pain she kept inflicting on herself, or the humiliation that this most unworthy of opponents was failing to show even the the slightest concern over what she, the mightiest girl on earth, could to him. Did he not know what she was capable of?
She had to show him, but she had to admit that she was starting to become more concerned that her powers were not returning as quickly as she expected. The collar must clearly have messed with her system, and still she felt pain almost throughout her body - her swollen tits ever more inflamed, her ass similarly 're-energised by once again tumbling onto it. Why on earth had she embarrassed herself? What was wrong with her? If her bladder control was letting her down, she didn't want to think about what could happen if she couldn't attend to the unwelcome rumblings from her bowels pretty soon. And her head - why did it throb so badly? Just when she needed courage and sound judgement, she was aware that she was struggling to fiction at her normal intellect (which was never that high!). Perhaps if she was, she might also have noticed that she was slowly but irrevocably getting turned on by the whole nightmarish situation.
But she couldn't dare show her vulnerabilities to her opponent. Somehow she had to demonstrate that whatever he thought, whatever her previous humiliations, she was going to call the shots and now it was her time to redeem herself. Panting slightly, she hauled herself to her feet once again, put her hands on her sodden hips and prayed that her best heroine pose still carried at least some authority.
"You are not me, and Goddesses do not need to heed the advice of mortals. But perhaps it is time that you really did feel the hand of righteous justice"
He smirked "I can think of somewhere you can put your hand darling!"
Goaded into action, the dauntless heroine sprung once again into action, incredulous that he was clearly not taking a single measure to protect himself. Expecting to strike with poise and power, she expected the left hand - right hand combination that she threw to knock him down at best, or wind him at worst. He was completely open!
But her movements were clumsy, and spectacularly uncoordinated. She had forgotten that she was fighting behind a pair of beach balls. Her left arm glanced off her mighty left teat, sending it careering into its partner and making them both bounce so hard she felt they may rip off her chest. She almost wished they would! Meanwhile her punch found empty air, and wrenched her shoulder painfully in the process, hyperextending it as the expected impact on his solar plexus never materialised. Already off-balance as she started the right uppercut aimed at that infuriating jaw, her aim was off so such an extent that she succeeded only in striking the underside of her right udder, and mashing it into her own face.
And now he just laughed.
And now Supergirl began to feel fear. Those were her best shots, and yet again she'd failed to even make contact with him! She tried again, aiming more carefully at the biggest target he had in the centre of his chest, but having to alter her trajectory meant that instead of her fist sinking into his flesh, he swayed back fractionally and she missed by a country mile. She started to get desperate, swinging desperately ill-judged punches that he lazily ducked or swayed out of reach at will. So cumbersome and awkward were her movements he never even moved his feet - he simply didn't need to. Meanwhile sweat poured from all of her orifices with the sheer effort but try as she might she simply couldn't lay a finger on him. She felt more 'liquid' leak down below, and could only pray that it might go unnoticed with everything else she was generating.
He continued to laugh - "Nearly felt the breeze on that one", "Ooh you're getting closer", "I thought you said you were an invincible warrior"
"Just wait till I get hold of you!" she gasped pointlessly, utterly devastated at how ineffectual her 'attacks' were proving. "I'm going to tear you limb from limb. I'll show you yet"
"Whatever you say, darlin', whatever you say. By the way, how long have you been lactating?"
"What!" He was right. Those abominations on her chest were leaking. Her engorged nipples were leaking milk. How? Why? Again, what on earth was wrong with her? She was nearly exhausted already, and knew she had to finish him before she was finished herself, but she simply had to pause and feel the unfamiliar fluid spurting out, a totally unfamiliar sensation that once again she could do absolutely nothing about. What was happening to her? What could she do about it? When would it stop?
Almost unnoticed now, the Warden had returned to his desk, opened a cupboard next to it, and calmly sat down.
"You know what hunnybun," he started, "I know you're blonde, but it's really not the best idea to start fondling yourself in the middle of a fist fight. That said, it hasn't really been much of a fight has it? All you've managed to do so far is stagger round my office leaving what will probably be some really horrible stains on the carpet. And by the smell of it of it, you've just farted! Haven't you got ANY shame?"
Damn him, he was right. With so many other distractions, this was just another distraction too many. Could she yet humiliate herself still further?
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