"Seriously, Stinkerbell - haven't you given up yet?", he comfortably enquired with a smirk.
"Gi-give up?" wheezed our harried heroine, desperately trying to maintain her bluster. "These THINGS you have (gasp) given me may have have delayed your inev (pant) itable defeat, but lo-lose you will, and lose badly. Give me that k-ey. Hear (gasp) me! I am the Mighty Super- ooooh (whimper)!"
Supergirl's proud invective counted against her as she split her much needed attention too far between her desperate diatribe, oozing nipples, trying to stagger againtowards him, and much more immediate concerns. She whimpered in humiliation as she interrupted herself by breaking wind in such a loud and lingering fashion that the desk ornaments shook. She froze in shock, one hand grabbing her derriere in horror, and the other her belly, which span angrily and reminded her that she was by no means in the clear yet. She dared not move lest foul herself.
"Whoo-whee, what a ripper", he grinned, comically holding his nose and fanning the air. "This really isn't your day is it? Well, I guess I've got to be a gentleman again. I've already given you a couple of Mulligans bitch, and that's too many - but believe me this is your last one. So here's your last choice, and your very last chance..."
He reached into the cupboard, pulled out a large potty, and lobbed it at her feet as her eyes widened in horror.
"3 choices bitch;
- Come and do your worst. Keep 'fighting'. See if you can hold on.
- Go back through the door there. There's a toilet there, but so are my guards. Our little game is over.
- Use that. Right there, right now. I'll consider it your half-time comfort break
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