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  1. #1
    Join Date
    Dec 2004

    Ms. Americana vs. Dr.Fetish (*/f explicit)

    Hello everyone!
    Here's a story I've been working on for a while, featuring the character Ms. Americana, a Wonder Woman like superheroine found on www.superheroinecentral.com and created by Mr. X. You can see more of his work here (http://www.superheroinecentral.com/mrx/xpage/xblm.htm).

    He tends to specialize in busty, scantily clad superheroines getting into all sorts of trouble.

    I hope everyone enjoys this!

    And here are a couple of pictures of Ms. Americana.

    Looking pretty confident here.


    Love the view of her bare feet here.


    by Wingman


    Ms. Americana struggled in vain against the vines binding her. She pulled with failing strength, all the while trying hard not to enjoy the sensations coursing through her. The vibrator buzzed insistently and try as she might she knew she couldn't get it out. It was strapped in, deep inside her, and the vibration was steadily growing more intense. Ms. Americana wriggled and shook her hips, clenched her fists and dug her nails into her palms, all to try and distract her from the orgasm she knew must soon overtake her. But she couldn't cum; she must not! She was Ms. Americana, queen of liberty, and she would not be tamed by this mere device! But the buzzing sped up, and a new throb of pleasure jolted through her, and it was getting harder and harder to stave off the climax building inside her. And beneath her wriggling, straining body, tiny nubs poked out of the earth, twitching slowly, almost expectantly. The pleasure swelled inside her, and she could feel the pressure demanding release. She couldn't hold out much longer...



    “...Turning to business news, Brenda Wade, heiress and owner of Wade Industries, has embarked on a two week overseas trip with her CEO, Daniel Vulpus, to oversee several of the international holdings of the corporation. This trip has raised many eyebrows among industry analysts, since Ms. Wade is best known for her partying and frequent shopping sprees rather than her business savvy. Whether this will prove to be a bold move for her, or another mistake, only time will tell. Now we move to sports, where the Delta City Bombers brought the heat to Capitol City...”

    The small corporate jet had finished taxiing along the small runway. Half a dozen people were moving down the stairs onto the tarmac, where two black limousines waited a few dozen yards away. A tall man dressed in khakis, a button down white shirt, and a jacket slung over his shoulder waited near the limos. The party reached the tarmac, and a very tall, buxom woman moved to the head of the group, waving her cell phone in the air around her.

    She was tall, standing well over six feet wearing high-heeled platform shoes that clacked as she walked down the tarmac. Her legs were long and shapely, leading to smooth, round hips. Her white blouse was stretched over a massive pair of breasts that looked barely contained by the pink bra underneath it. Her face was framed by long, think wavy hair, and half covered by a large pair of sunglasses. Just behind her was a shorter, slightly portly man in a dark business suit. They were in turn flanked by two women also in business dress, and two black suited men who had the look of security agents. The tall woman was talking loudly.

    “God that was the most awful flight. Dan, we've gotta get better movies than that. And why can't I get any bars here?” She continued to wave her phone around. The portly man shook his head, and walked straight to the man waiting by the limos.

    “Mr. N'Galla I presume?” he said, holding out his hand.

    “Please call me Richard.” N'Galla responded with a deep voice and a strong handshake. “And you must be Mr. Vulpus?”

    “Daniel.” Dan Vulpus returned the handshake with surprising strength. “And this is…” he gestured to the tall woman now holding her phone high up in the air.

    “I’ve got a bar! I’ve got a bar!”

    “…is Brenda Wade, our employer.” Vulpus sighed. He nodded to one of the black suited men who trotted over to Brenda and gently took her arm.

    “This way if you please, Ms. Wade.”

    He guided Brenda into one of the two waiting limos, along with Vulpus and N’Galla. The other guard and the two women climbed into the other one. The cars pulled smoothly away from the plane and headed towards the exit to the main road.

    “I can’t tell you how grateful I am you are here, Mr. Vulpus.”

    “Daniel, and it’s no trouble. Actually it was Ms. Wade…” he turned to Brenda, hoping to find her paying at least a little attention to the conversation, but found that her head was leaning back against the headrest and her mouth dropped open slightly. Her breathing was deep and steady. She was asleep. Vulpus pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again. N’Galla wondered how often he did that every day.

    “It was Ms. Wade who suggested the trip. On the books, we’re here to assess you’re security and help deal with these attacks. Personally…” Vulpus lowered his voice slightly. “…I think she came along for the shopping.” The hulking guard chuckled softly. N’Galla threw a doubtful look at Brenda.

    “How did she manage to start Wade Industries?”

    “Well she actually didn’t. Her father did, just before he died. Was murdered, really.”

    The three men again looked at Brenda Wade. She still seemed peacefully asleep.

    “The company was small, and held in trust for her until she turned 21 and was able to participate. But by then, she was clearly not interested in the business.”

    “Then how did Wade Industries become so large?” N’Galla asked.

    “Well, I was a junior executive when she turned 21, and she asked me to take over running the company. On paper she’s still the owner, but she told me that first day I could run the company as I saw fit, and I’d get no interference from her. Her only condition was that we must donate generously to the women’s shelters and various other feminist causes. Of course we had no problem with that so…”

    “So you’ve really been the real power at Wade Industries these past 10 years?” Vulpus waved his hand.

    “No. I’ve got good people under me, and I’ve brought some of my best to help us with your problems. Tell me about these attacks on your convoys.”

    “Well, we’ve lost seven convoys now. And that reports all contain the same detail. About a man in a white coat…”

    As the cars made their way onto the main thoroughfare and turned towards the nearby hotel, Brenda Wade feigned sleep and listened very closely to the two men.

    The limos arrived at the hotel twenty minutes later. Ten minutes after that, Brenda strode into her suite of rooms, complaining loudly of a headache and the need for some proper beauty sleep. She dropped the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the knob and locked the door. She saw her bags had already been sent up to her room, and were in a tidy stack at the foot of her king-sized four post bed. She picked out the largest, dropped it on the bed, and popped it open. She decided she needed to freshen herself up a bit, and to review what she had overheard in the limo.

    Brenda Wade was perceived by the general public to be a spoiled, pampered socialite, her generous donations to women's causes notwithstanding. But this was all an act on her part. Brenda had feigned sleep in the limo in order to listen to N'Galla's accounts of the thefts of supplies over the last few months. Had Brenda Wade shown an interest, it would have surprised the three men, Dan Vulpus most of all. She had acted the airhead too often now to actually show she had a very good grasp of the goings on in her company. But there was a reason for this, just as there had been a reason to hire Dan Vulpus and basically tell him to run the company as he saw fit. And it was the reason she was here in the first place; the reason she had started the whole venture out here.

    Brenda Wade was the greatest superheroine in Delta City.

    Brenda Wade was Ms. Americana.

    Brenda pulled out a small bag of toiletries, and kicked off her heels. She sighed and stretched out her calves, digging her toes into the lush carpeting. Brenda was a very distinct looking woman. She was taller than most women, standing at 5'11" barefoot, but she usually wore tall heels and her shoes had lifts in them to make her appear taller. She popped the buttons off her strained blouse, and unsnapped her bra.

    "Ahhhhh....." she sighed as her massive breasts bounced free. Ms. Americana was well known for her impressive breasts, among other physical attributes, so Brenda tended to bind them down in her civilian identity in order to keep people from suspecting the truth. It felt wonderful to finally set them free.

    Brenda stepped into the bathroom, and started the water running. She stepped into the tub, and ran the hottest shower she could stand. She stepped under the stream, and sighed again as the last few hours of travel tension began to drain out of her. Brenda ducked her head under the water, and began reviewing what she had learned.

    The factory N’Galla managed was a pharmaceutical manufacturing plant. Thanks to some extra funding from Wade Industries, the plant managed to supply needed medicines to some of the poorer villages in the area. But in the last few weeks, several of the convoys delivering these supplies had been hijacked. No one had returned except for a couple of drivers and security personnel, all reporting the same thing. The convoy had been hijacked by mercenaries, and by trees. All of them reported that the branches of the surrounding trees had moved to intercept their vehicles. And they had also all reported seeing a figure dressed in a white coat, like a lab coat, somewhere near the scene. It was this last piece of information that had caught Brenda’s attention.

    Delta City had been built over an extensive network of tunnels; remnants of the old subway system that had fallen into disuse. Although technically abandoned, the tunnels had become home to the many monsters, creatures, and mutated lifeforms that seemed to gravitate there. Brenda herself, in her alter ego, had fallen victim to the strange, lustful appetites of the creatures in those tunnels more times than she cared to remember. It seemed an unspoken rite of passage for the superheroines of Delta City that they encounter some of the creatures down there. Finally, the heroines banded together and vowed to finally clear those tunnels of all the mutated life. It had been a herculean effort, had taken nearly a month to complete, and had resulted in everyone getting their sexy asses nailed several times. Ms. Americana and Got Gal alone had spent almost an entire day battling an especially thick and horny nest of plants which had fucked them to so many climaxes they had lost count. But finally, with the help of every heroine in Delta City, and the assistance of Dr. Whirter, Delta City's expert on such mutated creatures, the tunnels had been cleared, the creatures cataloged, and finally neutralized.

    Every heroine had also reported seeing a figure dressed all in black, but sporting a white lab coat haunting the tunnels. No one had managed more than a fleeting glimpse, but Brenda took it very seriously. And a mere two weeks after clearing out the tunnels, Green Specter had chased a purse thief down into one, only to come face to face with another insemenoid plant. While she had escaped without being impregnated, she had endured nearly an hour of forced climaxes, all to ripen her for impregnation. Poor Green Specter was several days in recovering. Usually she and the other non-powered heroines avoided the tunnels; they were all strong women, but they didn't have the superhuman constitution Brenda did. Ms. Americana and Got Gal were the ones to usually venture down there, their superhuman powers giving them the best chance of handling whatever lurked below the city streets. But the incident revealed that either they had missed something while clearing out the tunnels, some small nest or something, or someone was reintroducing the mutated life back into the tunnels again. Two days after Green Specter's harrowing orgasmic ordeal, a memo crossed Brenda Wade's desk detailing the attacks on N'Galla's convoys, and the reports of the figure in the white coat. Brenda now had a suspect.

    She rinsed the last of the shampoo out of her thick, wavy black hair, and now began to scrub her body. She paid special attention to her massive girls, coating them with a sudsy body wash, and rinsing in the steaming water. She luxuriated in the hot water streaming down her voluptuous figure, steam billowing all around her. Finally, she stepped out, pink skinned and clean, and toweled off. She stepped from the almost stifling bathroom into the cool air of her room completely nude. She felt more than a little horny right now. Partly it was from the hot shower leaving her skin tender; partly it was pent up desire from spending several hours on the plane near her bodyguards. They were both very good-looking, and despite her off-putting public behavior, she had noticed the both of them checking her out from time to time. Brenda briefly flirted with the idea of going to their room next door just as she was and letting them have their way with her.

    A soft thump from the adjacent room, and muffled moans reached Brenda's ears. It sounded as if her secretaries had also caught her bodyguards' attention. Brenda, for a moment, ached to join them. As Ms. Americana she was no stranger to sexual activity, but it was usually at the hands of some lust-filled villain, fiendish monster, mutated plant, or deviant droid. They would manage to overpower her and force her to climax, rendering her helpless, then have their way with her. But it had been so long since Brenda Wade had enjoyed a genuinely intimate moment with a regular man. She pulled her attention away from the whimpers sounding through the wall as one of her secretaries climaxed. That wasn't the life for her. She was Ms. Americana, and she had a job to do here and now.

    Brenda emptied one of her duffel bags, and pulled out a false bottom, revealing her costume. She pulled it out and laid out the pieces. Her costume was basically a star-spangled bikini, along with boots, gloves and a mask. More than once, people in Delta City had commented on how skimpy her costume was, and how easily it could be torn off, but she maintained her belief that as long as the criminals were staring at her voluptuous body, the easier it was to subdue them. She was undoubtedly the greatest heroine in Delta City, so there was some logic to this argument. But she had been handed her share of defeats as well.

    She pulled on the bottoms and slipped into the top. The costume had recently been reworked, and she had to admit it felt great. Prof. Whirter had promised that the new material would cling better to her body, providing excellent support for her breasts and prove that much harder to remove.

    “You must remember, though, Ms. Americana,” he had told her. “It, like your power belt, is still tied to your concentration. If it is broken, the costume will come off as easily as a standard bikini.”

    “Not a problem, professor,” she replied confidently. “No ordinary criminal scum will breach my concentration!” Whirter had merely rolled his eyes. Time would tell, he knew. After all, Ms. Americana had been “breached” by criminals more frequently than she liked to say. No one knew that better than he, since he was the man who inevitably helped the various heroines of Delta City deal with the consequences of their exploits.

    Brenda now slipped on the boots, which were red with a white stripe running up the front and white trim at the top. She zipped up the sides and strode around the room a bit, feeling the new boots out. As promised, they were wonderfully supporting, and they had a new feature. She concentrated, and the high heels retracted into the boot. It would be much easier to run in them now. Brenda could have kicked herself for not realizing this sooner. And the tread could be changed from smooth to rough in order to provide better traction. Plus, it almost felt like she was standing on cotton, they were so soft and supported. She pulled on her mask and then turned to the source of her powers; her power belt.

    The gold belt with a red letter “A” flanked by two blue stars had also been retooled. Somehow, in ways she had never completely understood, it unlocked fantastic powers in her. It increased her strength, her speed, her resilience, and allowed her to quickly heal from injuries. It also gave her phenomenal endurance. And its effects had a cumulative effect on her. Without it, she had normal strength, but she retained an increased healing ability, resilience, and endurance. She had needed it on more than one occasion when depowered by her foes. More than once, Brenda had wondered if the belt had also increased her sensitivity, since with the belt or without it, it was almost criminally easy to get her to orgasm. Ironically orgasms rendered the belt useless for a period of time. Since this was a very poorly kept secret, it was a favored method of Delta City's criminals to defeat her.

    Brenda clasped the belt and settled it on her full round hips, and she felt the rush of power. Finally she pulled on her gloves, and went to the full length mirror. No longer was this party girl and spoiled heiress Brenda Wade. She now beheld a proud, beautiful warrior, a fierce and buxom champion of justice; she was Ms. Americana!

    Americana slipped out one of the windows and, gathering her strength, leaped out over the darkened, busy streets. One good leap carried her over to the next building, and she vaulted to the top, to orient herself. She found the direction she wanted, heading to the Wade Industries factory, and jumped out into the night.


    Nearly two hours later Ms. Americana was warily making her way down a worn track that cut into the jungle. She had stopped at N'Galla's factory and got directions for the route the supply convoys usually took on their errands of mercy. The factory and the villages were perilously close to the Mutarian jungle, a thick mysterious section of African jungle infamous for its mutated plant and animal life. Ms. Americana was certain that most of the mutated life that found its way to Delta City originated here. She moved carefully, wary of the vegetation, looking for some sign of the figure in the white coat. She was sure he was the key to not only the attacks on the convoys, but to all the strange creatures that had infested Delta City.

    After several minutes, she was farther into the jungle than she was comfortable with. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the trees seemed more sinister than before. Night would fall soon, and the sun's rays were growing long and dim. The thick trees overhead cut off most of the light, and only special lenses in her mask allowed her to see well in this deepening gloom. But just as she was about to turn and make her way back (no WAY did she want to be near the Mutarian jungle at night), she spotted a figure maybe two dozen yards ahead of her step out of the jungle onto the track. She couldn't make him out well at this distance, but he appeared to be wearing a white lab coat.

    “Hellooooo! Ms. Americana!” he called to her.

    “You! Freeze!” she shouted, and she took off, sprinting as fast as she could towards him. Her powerful muscles propelled her forward, and she closed the distance in seconds. Just as she reached out to grab him, he shimmered and disappeared.

    “Damn! A hologram!”

    “That's right, Americana!” called a cheery voice from further down the track. The figure in the white coat again stood before her, this time perhaps a dozen yards away. Now she could see he sported some type of black bodysuit under the coat. But she still couldn't see his face clearly. He turned and began to move swiftly down the track, deeper still into the jungle. Ms. Americana paused briefly; she really didn't want to move any deeper into the jungle, but she brushed this concern aside. She was Ms. Americana! There surely was no danger to her from a few mere plants and animals, no matter how insidious their design.

    She raised her hand and pointed at a low hanging tree branch. A mental command, and one of the stars on her glove shot out, trailing a high-tensile line. It snagged the branch, and the line retracted, carrying the heroine up into the air. She swung high, released the line, and dove back at the ground. She flipped around in the air with the skill of the best Olympic gymnast, and landed several feet in front of him. She landed in a crouch then drew up to her full height, fists on her hips, feet planted squarely.

    “Halt villain! There is no escape from me!” The man skidded to a stop. He had drawn a black bondage mask over his face, but now stared at her not with fear, but with a large smile on his face.

    “Oh, I wouldn't dream of trying to escape the great Ms. Americana,” he said, spreading his arms wide and raising his hands in a surrendering gesture. She raised her other glove, and shot out another line which wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms to the side.

    “Well, at least you show some wisdom. Now, I have several questions for you about the attacks on the convoys through here, as well as what you were doing in the tunnels beneath Delta City!”

    “And I would be so very happy to oblige you, but I'm afraid I'm not at your mercy, but rather you are at mine.” Amazingly, he had not stopped smiling, but looked very pleased with himself. Well, she was going to have to disabuse him of that!

    “Are you insane? I have you tied and under my power! Your hologram may have fooled me, but I am faster, stronger, and you are out of tricks, friend!”

    “Is that so?” he replied, in a casual tone.

    Ms. Americana heard a rustling behind her, but before she could even turn her head, thick powerful vines appeared as if from nowhere, and wrapped around her ankles, pulling her feet out from under her.

    “OOF! What the...?” but her exclamation was cut short as more thick vines shot out of the gloom. She twisted to avoid one and grabbed another, but the vines around her feet pulled her along the ground, away from the track and into the trees. She grabbed two more vines as they darted at her, and pulled on them with all her enhanced strength. She expected the vines to rip or tear, but they seemed to move with her. More vines crept up and wrapped around her elbows. She pulled against them as they pulled her up, but it was no use. Even her incredible strength was useless against these vines.

    “Release me at once! You're only making things worse for yourself!” She put as much bravado as she could in her voice, but the vines had her out muscled and outnumbered. More slid out of the gloom, twining around her wrists, her knees, bearing her thrashing body into the darkness. The man meanwhile had managed to free himself and was casually following her into the jungle.

    “Oh dear! What ever shall I do?” he said in a mocking tone. “Silence her,” he said, and a thick vine snaked over her mouth, muffling her protests.

    One chance, she thought to herself. If I can just reach my power belt...

    She remembered discussing the new belt with Whirter back in Delta City.

    “It has a new feature you may find useful, Ms. Americana.”

    “Do go on professor,” she replied.

    “Well, as you know the belt channels incredible energies into your body, and I've found a way to release those energies in one burst. If you press the stars on the belt simultaneously, it will trigger a power discharge. This discharge will supercharge your powers for a few seconds, giving you several times your usual strength.”

    “That could prove very useful if I'm being gangba... uhm I mean ganged up on. By criminals. Gangs of them.” Ms. Americana really hoped she wasn't blushing at that moment.

    “Indeed,” he replied, not appearing to have noticed her Freudian slip. “The downside is it will deplete the power in the belt for a time, perhaps several hours, but as you say, in an emergency, it may prove useful. But remember, it will deplete the power, so use it only in the most dire emergency.”

    “I'll remember. Thanks Professor.”

    Now, Ms. Americana had stopped struggling so hard against the mighty vines restraining her. She was focusing all her strength on pulling her hands down to her waist, trying to reach the two blue stars on the front of her belt, and trigger the power discharge. It was the only way out of this situation she could think of. Hopefully, she'd have enough power to rip her way free, and make for the trail. With any luck, she'd have enough juice to get a good head start and get out of the jungle. It was slow going, but she was managing to inch her hands lower, closer to her belt. She just needed a few more minutes.

    After several minutes, they emerged in a large clearing in the jungle, with a huge steel building in its center. The man in the coat led them through a wide sliding door in to the gloomy unlit interior. A flip of what sounded like a large lever, and lights began to flicker on around the building. Ms. Americana stopped pulling for a few seconds as she took in the interior.

    They beheld a vast forest of the strangest vegetation she had ever seen. Long twitching vines crept up the walls, draped from the steel struts in the ceiling, which had several large openings to allow in sunlight and rain presumably. Interspersed among these were brightly colored flowers, short squat trees, large plants that appeared to be giant Venus Flytraps. Rows and rows of smaller, neatly arranged plants of many types and colors filled the building. The air was a heady mix of soil and fragrance, too many to identify. More than once, Ms. Americana fancied she spotted a plant she recognized from one of her many adventures in the Delta City underground, but they continued down the long paths of vegetation.

    Finally, they emerged at a bare patch of freshly plowed earth. Neat furrows ran down its length, and small bright green shoots were peeking up from a small patch near one corner of the garden. She had nearly managed to pull her arms down. Now if she could just get her hands down. Just another couple of minutes... she thought.

    “How do you like my little garden, Ms. Americana? I dare say you've run into one or two of my little plants before?” He gestured casually at her, and the vine pulled away from her mouth.

    “So I was right. You are the one responsible for the mutant plants in Delta City.” He nodded.

    “Well some of them. I can't take credit for all of them. But it's been so educational, watching you heroines struggle to deal with my creations. Actually, many of the mutated plants down in the tunnels are your fault, Ms. Americana.”

    “My fault? How dare you!” Almost there... she thought. If I can just keep him talking...

    “How many times? How often were you caught? Depowered? Impregnated? You and Got Gal and Hexanna, and how many others? You weren't just hosts, Americana. Those mutoid plants you birthed carried just a bit of something new from each of you, from your superhuman biology. And new generations of plants grew there, strengthened by you and your continued, doomed attempts to battle them. I should actually thank you, in so many ways you've helped my researches into the plants. And now you're going to help me again.”

    “Like hell!” she growled. Her hands were even with her waist, and she was inching them slowly towards her belt.

    Oh believe me, you will. Oh, and as for this...” He snapped his fingers as he walked towards her. She wasn't sure what he was doing, but she wasn't prepared for his hands to slide up her sides, wasn't prepared for his fingers to dig into her smooth waist, wasn't ready for the tickling he gave her. Ms. Americana shrieked, her arms jerking back and forth as more tendrils descended from the ceiling, wrapping around her arms, her legs, pulling her spread eagled. She rocked her body back and forth as best she could, biting on her lower lip to suppress the giggles. His fingers found the hollows just between her hips and her legs, and she squealed suddenly, the laughter bursting forth.


    Deftly, he reached around behind her, towards the clasp on her power belt. With her concentration shattered by the tickling, it popped open easily. With an electric TZZZOTTT! the belt came off, and she felt her strength dwindle and fade away. No! She had been depowered!

    “Y-you fiend!” she breathed heavily, her chest heaving as she gulped air. “You depowered me!”

    “And confirmed a theory. You're quite ticklish, aren't you Ms. Americana? That's good, it makes the next stage much easier.”

    “Next stage of what?” She hung limp in the vines. With her belt gone, there was no way she could break their grip now.

    “Ah, there's just so much you don't know, Brenda my dear, so much...”

    “WHAT?!?” she stiffened in her restraints. How could he possibly know? “Wh-what did you call me?”

    “Oh please, " he replied, moving to a small storage cabinet. He returned with something in his hands, and easily peeled her mask off her face.

    “No!” she cried out.

    “I've known for quite some time that you're Brenda Wade.” he said matter-of-factly.


    “Well, I applaud your public performances as the spoiled party heiress, but really it was very simple. There aren't many women in Delta city as tall, as well proportioned as you. And really, this mask doesn't even begin to hide your features. At least in the comics Clark Kent acted all meek and mild-mannered so no one could suspect him of being Superman, and Superman doesn't wear a mask, so no one thinks he has a day job.”

    “Then why didn't you...”

    “What? Reveal your identity?” As he said this he pressed her mask back in place. “Taunt or blackmail you? There was no need. I'm not interested in your dual identity, Ms. Wade. Or do you prefer Ms. Americana?”

    “Then what do you want?”

    “You, or rather, your unique superhuman biology. As I said, it's all about the next step in the evolution of my little beauties. Strip her.” At his command, smaller vines snaked down her body, slipping beneath the straps of her costume. Brenda focused as the vines tugged, but the new costume remained fixed in place. She couldn't help but smile at the small triumph.

    “Hmm...” he stroked his chin thoughtfully. He gestured at the vines, and the shifted, lifting one of her legs to him. He grasped the base of her boot firmly, and pulled. Unlike her bikini, the boots were not made to cling to her body, and it easily slid off. Her eyes grew wide as the vines tightened their grip, and as he pulled her toes back, studying the bare sole before him.

    “Wh-who are you?” she asked, trying to keep him from what she feared he was about to do.

    “Hmm?” he looked up at her. Then he smiled a mysterious smile.

    “You may call me... Dr. Fetish.” And he began to tickle her foot.

    Ms. Americana yelped and tried in vain to pull her foot away. It was useless; the vines held her in place well. His fingers skittered up and down her bare sole and she giggled as she tried to pull it away. His grip was too firm, and he teased and scratched away. If anything, her feet were even more ticklish than her sides, but it was a close call. She jerked around helplessly in the vines, her laughter pouring out of her.


    The vines shifted her other leg over, rustling as she thrashed, and he slipped her other boot off. Then both sets of fingers glided over her smooth, sensitive soles. Her shrieks intensified as the tickling doubled. The vines again snaked down and tugged at her bikini top. This time, with her concentration in tatters, the vines succeeded in popping it off. Her massive breasts bounced free and jiggled invitingly as she squealed and wriggled under Dr. Fetish's ticklish touch.

    She felt tugging on her bottoms, and she tried to marshal her will. She fought as hard as she could, but it tickled so much! The vines tugged, but the bottoms managed to stay in place.

    “M-MMU-HU-HUSST NOT G-GIVE HEE-HEE-HEE IN-N!” Fetish slid one hand up underneath her knee, and found a wonderfully soft, ticklish spot. Brenda bucked and jerked, but could not pull away. The bottoms of her costume began to peel away. Finally, the vines pulled her bottoms completely off. Fetish ceased his tickle attack, and she gasped for air. It had taken maybe a minute, but it had felt like forever.

    “Oh yes, wonderfully ticklish! This will be just perfect,” Fetish said as he tossed her garments aside. She was now stark naked, except for her gloves, tiara and a small star studded choker that held a radio transmitter/receiver. It would be no help since she couldn't reach it, and she rather doubted it could penetrate the dense forest. Fetish paused to admire her body. In a word, she was stunning. Tall and statuesque; her smooth shapely legs led to the luscious curves of her hips and derriere. A tight fit waist led up to her impressive breasts, all the more impressive for the fact that they were, despite their size, still firm and perky, with hard pink nipples jutting forward. Her face was supermodel beautiful, with full seductive lips, piercing blue eyes and raven black hair that cascaded down her back, thick and wavy. He raised a hand to signal the plant. The vines again shifted, and she was pulled vertically, in a spread eagle position.

    “As you may have guessed, I engage in all sorts of biological experimentation here. The native plant life is already mutated beyond anything we know in the States. I haven't yet worked out why, but these plants are quite easy to mutate further, and I've found a rather pliant breed of inscemenoid plant that is particularly easy to tailor to my needs. Or my fetishes.” He led the vines over to a section of the bare earth, just over one of the neat furrows. Brenda had managed to get her breath back, but she still felt her pulse racing. And was it her imagination, or was she actually a little horny?

    “I have introduced several strains of these plants, and some of the animals, in the underground tunnels in Delta City. As I expected, you and your fellow heroines have encountered them several times.” He smiled a wicked smile. He didn't need to elaborate. She knew exactly what he was getting at. She had lost count of the number of times she and others like Got-Gal had encountered and been overpowered and impregnated by the mutated creatures. Fortunately their spawn arrived within a few hours, and prolonged exposure to her belt had imparted her with a naturally enhanced healing ability, so she never suffered any ill effects. But she was chilled by the realization that all these years she had been used. And that the creatures had grown stronger for it.

    “Why are you doing this? You're mad, but obviously brilliant. Think of all the ways you could help humanity!” She noticed him fiddling with the object he had retrieved from the storage cabinet. She couldn't see it, but was certain it was some diabolical device. She was trying to keep him talking, trying desperately to think of something she could do to get out of this situation, maybe even get at her power belt. If she could only get at the belt!

    “Oh I intend to help humanity! I have discovered many new medicines and treatments here for the ill and infirm. My research is not yet complete, but rest assured I have no intention of keeping all I have discovered from mankind. But that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun in the process!” He pulled a small remote out of his coat pocket and clicked it.

    “How is tormenting me going to benefit humanity?” she said, now beginning to tug slightly at her bonds. It was futile, they may as well have been tree trunks for all that she could budge them. And even with her belt, she hadn't been able to break their grip. She couldn't quite keep the worry from her voice. She was trapped, powerless, naked, and spread-eagled. And dammit, she couldn't deny that she was definitely horny. She couldn't help it; the tickling had turned her on, being bound was always a turn on, and she couldn't deny there was more than a little erotic thrill to the dangers she faced.

    “Well, not every discovery I have made is a breakthrough in medical science. But some of the things I have found here have an appeal...elsewhere.” He let that sink in a bit. Chains of logic lined up in her head. She looked around, and for the first time noticed small blinking red lights scattered around them. Video cameras! The bastard was going to record whatever fiendish torment he had in store for her! Or, if he had managed to secure wi-fi out here, it would be broadcast all over the internet! Again he smiled as the realization of her predicament dawned on her.

    “Now, let me introduce you to my latest creations,” with a gesture, the vines angled her body enough that she could clearly see the ground beneath her. She saw rows of tiny green shoots peeking up from the rich dark soil. They were little more than small nubs, a few had tiny leaves just beginning to unfurl. And they were moving. Ms. Americana's eyes grew wide. She looked at Fetish, who was smiling broadly.

    “Yes, another variation on the inscemenoid plant. This one bred with a very specific purpose. I planted these seedlings only yesterday, and already they're poking out of the ground. Fast, but not quite fast enough for my purposes. Fortunately there is a substance that will super-accelerate their growth.” He stepped towards her, the device in his hands now clearly visible. There were two long straps dangling from a large, thick dildo. She gasped; eyes wide in equal parts horror and curiosity.

    “Y-you don't mean...”

    “Yes! The honey of a super-powered heroine such as yourself!” Again she pulled vainly at her bonds as he stepped between her legs. The vines snaked around, moving further up her legs, holding her hips steady.

    “B-but you took away my power belt! I don't have any powers without it! My honey won't do you any good!” He gave her a pitying look.

    “I don't think you really understand the true nature of your power belt, Ms. Americana. Haven't you ever wondered how or why it unlocks such fantastic powers in you? Haven't you ever noticed the changes it's made to you? How often have you been without the belt and forced to endure prolonged, intense physical...activity? And yet you never show any ill effects. Even your body has changed, your breasts grown fuller than they were a few years ago, your hips rounder, your body so...”

    “How do you know all this about me?” she cut in, trying hard not to blush. And she noticed he seemed a bit red under his hood. He smiled his Cheshire-cat smile again.

    “My secret, my dear. Suffice to say, you have greater endurance and healing abilities than an ordinary woman even without the belt. A greater sensitivity to stimulation. The effects are small, but they are cumulative. True, you are quite mighty with the belt, but still resilient without it. And it's that resiliency I'm counting on.” With that, he pressed the tip of the phallus against her maidenhead. Despite herself, her back arched slightly as he eased it into her. The tickling and the bondage had already aroused her, so it slid in easily. Ms. Americana bit her lower lip and stifled a small moan of pleasure.

    “This vibrator will easily climax you, and I know full well that you squirt when you cum.” He pulled the straps around her upper thighs, securing the dildo in place. She would not be able to shake it out of her.

    “Once you...water my little beauties, they will grow at an incredible pace. They will then deposit their seeds into your womb. Your wonderful, ripe womb. Your love juices will then fertilize the next generation of seeds, and I'm much mistaken if they don't also grow incredibly fast. I expect that within an hour or two, you'll have planted my whole garden!” With that, he clicked a small switch at the base of the device. The sudden low buzzing made her stiffen and jerk her hips.

    “OHHHHHH!!” she moaned. She pulled against the vines, unconsciously swiveling her hips. It was sensuous and hypnotic. Fetish was briefly possessed of an urge to bury himself in that pussy, but he mastered the impulse. All in good time. He turned to move off the garden.

    “W-wait!” she called, her voice husky with desire. Already she could feel the climax building inside her. But she was curious, and she needed information. If she could somehow escape, she could get valuable information to Professor Whirter on this new breed of inscemenoid plant. Fetish turned back to face her.

    “W-what AAHHH! W-what are these plants c-called?”

    “Oh didn't I mention? I call them Tentickler plants!” He pointed his remote at her, and suddenly the low buzzing intensified.


    Slowly, Ms. Americana writhed in the vines, helpless as the pleasure mounted. Fetish had been right, she was sensitive, and holding back the climax was difficult. She knew if she was climaxed, her power belt would be useless to her for several hours, even if she did somehow manage to get free and put it back on. Plus, she was in no hurry to experience the touch of those tentickler plants. It had been unbearable enough with the brief tickling Fetish had given her. She wasn't sure how long she could handle plants bred for the activity. Especially plants she had empowered with her own honey.

    Her skin flushed, and in the jungle heat and humidity she was shining with perspiration. Her groin throbbed, her blood pounded in her ears, and she struggled to defy the orgasm that was so close to exploding out of her. She pulled and strained, moaning and whimpering. So close, and she so desperately wanted to cum. But the vibrator buried in her was relentless and inescapable. She arched her back, clenched her fists, and finally, her while body tensing, she finally came in a senses shattering climax.


    Ms. Americana shook as she came, grunting as the orgasm thundered through her. Her pussy gushed and her honey spurted out and sprinkled on the small nubs poking out of the ground. The shuddered for a moment, then began to push their way out of the ground. The vines holding her began to slowly retract, slithering off her and the tentickler's growing vines took their place. Ms. Americana was too dazed to try to wriggle free; she still shuddered as the last aftershocks of the mammoth orgasm rumbled through her. On some level, she knew she was now completely helpless. Even if she could reach her power belt, it would be useless. And the orgasm had been staggering; all the energy she had used to try and resist it had only doubled back on her in amplified pleasure. The tentickler's vines grew longer, thicker, with long, feathery fronds unfurling from the tips of the branches. The vines pulled off her gloves, peeled away her mask, her tiara followed it to the ground. They snapped off her choker/transmitter, leaving her completely nude, and they pulled the vibrator out of her. She experienced a moment of relief as the maddening buzzing ceased, and she sagged in the vines, gasping and exhausted. Even so, she felt her body regaining some energy, the resiliency her power belt had permanently imparted to her beginning to work its magic. And despite the power of that climax, she knew she was still aroused.

    After a few precious seconds, she lifted her head, feeling marginally stronger. She had stopped shaking, although her breathing was still deep, making her breasts heave with each breath. Her skin was flushed and still tingling. The vines still held her spread-eagled, her arms stretched above her head, her legs pulled wide, exposing all of her most sensitive areas. She was pulled horizontally, parallel to the ground. She looked down her body at the almost fully grown plant.

    Its body was about half as thick around as a fully grown oak tree, brown at the base, shading to pale then vivid green as the trunk grew upwards. At the top, the tree blossomed out the tendrils that now ensnared her, the feathery leaves shading to vivid purples and reds. Almost casually, one of the large red fronds brushed across her stomach.

    “EEEEP!” she shrieked at the sudden tickling sensation. Another vine brushed its feathery tips over her feet.

    MMMPH!” she tried to stifle the laughter, hoping it may dissuade the plant. But such was not to be. Her skin felt several times more sensitive as normal, thanks to the orgasm, and the plant easily elicited more giggles and muffled whimpers from her as it poked and teased her body, feeling out her vulnerable spots. Four separate tendrils rose over her hips, and began to gently, and with increasing pressure, press and tease her just inside her hipbones.


    She jumped and shrieked as, unbeknownst to her, two more tendrils rose from beneath her and began to poke at her upper thighs and buttocks.


    Her cries rang through the clearing, high pitched shrieks and squeals mixing with throaty laughter. The plant seemed to somehow feed on her laughter, growing more bold and confident as it teased and tickled this sensitive body it had discovered.


    The vines wrapped around her ankles had several swollen nubs running along their length. These nubs grew, finally opening to allow several thin creeper vines to snake out. They wrapped themselves around Brenda's toes, pulling her feet back. More of the creeper vines moved down and began poking and stroking her now vulnerable soles. For several long minutes, she shrieked with laughter as the vines tickled her feet, hips, buttocks, and her underarms. From the base of the plant, two long tendrils emerged, and began to drip a clear, thick, aloe like substance on her skin. Mercifully, the tickling eased as the vines started rubbing her body, coating it with the strange substance. Whatever it was, it felt cool and tingly, a relief for her burning flesh after her tickling ordeal. She heaved in great breaths of air, grateful for the break in the tickling. Vines slid over her body, wrapping around her massive, heaving breasts. The tips of these vines ended in small tufts of the feathery leaves. Suddenly, these began to lightly flick over her glistening nipples.


    Brenda had always been ticklish. But never before had she been tickled like this. And never in her wildest fantasies, or her most intense sexual encounters had anyone ever tickled her nipples. She wriggled her torso back and forth, trying to shake off the maddening sensations, but it was hopeless. The tickling sent electric charges through her body; her nipples throbbed and tingled and if possible it made her even hornier. All through this, she didn't see the vines rising between her spread legs. She didn't feel the restraining branches tighten around her legs, and was unprepared for the sudden light brushing just outside her throbbing pussy.


    She bucked her hips wildly, trying to escape the maddening tickling, but the vines held her fast. She could only manage to wriggle a few inches, and even then the vines were inescapable. And now the tickling onslaught intensified as the leaves again assaulted her feet, her underarms, her buttocks, her hips. The strange aloe seemed to have merely exfoliated her skin, leaving it even more sensitive. Brenda struggled helplessly as the tentickler plant teased, tickled, tortured. She begged and pleaded for mercy, writhed and strained, her shrieks and squeals sounding into the night.

    It was an eternity later when the vines began to pull back, one at a time. She slumped back, exhausted and gasping, sweat pouring down her body, her skin bright pink and still tingling. She gulped down air, panting heavily. Two slender, deep green vines with bulbous heads and a slight pucker at the tip rose up on either side of her. They moved down to her groin, and for a moment she was sure they were going to resume tickling her hips.

    “N-no…more. Please…I can’t…take any more!” she gasped out.

    “Oh these vines aren’t for tickling, Ms. Americana,” boomed a voice. Fetish; obviously on some sort of loudspeaker. She dimly remembered he said something else about what this wicked plant did, but she couldn’t recall. Then, one of them dipped between her legs, and slid over her dark pink pussy. She jumped and yelped in surprise.

    “These are the stamen of the plant; the parts that contain the seed.”

    “Oh…” she whimpered as she remembered. Then she stiffened, arching her back and letting out a long moan as the phallic tendrils easily pushed into her slick, throbbing pussy. They eased in slowly, twining around each other, and delicious pleasure fired through her.

    AAAHHHHHHNNNNN!” she groaned as they eased deep into her. The plant began to pump its phalluses slowly into her, slowly increasing their speed. Brenda groaned and cried out as the rhythm drove her towards a climax.

    “You see, the tentickler plant ripens its victims with the tickling, preparing them to receive its seed. Your ripe womb will provide the perfect breeding ground, and your superhuman body will help them grow as fast as their parents. Won’t that be just delightful?” Fetish boomed out again. She couldn’t spare the energy to try to find him. The pace had increased, and she was fast approaching an orgasm. After such intense tickling, she didn’t have the strength to try and hold it back. She racked her brains, trying to order her thoughts through the haze of mounting pleasure.

    Must find a way to get free. If this thing cums inside of me…

    The thought of another of these things was too much to bear. The tendrils thrust deep into her. She was nearly there.

    “In fact,” Fetish added. “I think it’s time for a bit more ripening, don’t you?”

    In the second it took her to register what he had said, the vines resumed their tickling.

    “What? OH NOOO-HOO-HOO-HOO-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!” The vines pumping in and out of her continued to fuck her, but the orgasm was ruined by the sudden resumption of tickling. But now giggles and squeals mixed with moans as new sensations coursed through her, overwhelming her. She writhed in the vines, unable to escape the torturous teasing, the delicious fucking, the unbearable, relentless, maddening, wonderful ecstasy pounding through her. Slowly, the plant drove her back to orgasm, all the while continuing the tickling assault. The vines teased her nipples, tickled her feet, her underarms, her hips, alternating the rhythm, pushing her into a fever pitch of lust and pleasure. She felt sure she would burst soon. Tears squeezed out of the corners of her eyes, her body glistened in the pale electric light, the pressure in her body mounting. Almost there, but the tickling made it oh so torturously slow. She was aching to cum, desperate to climax, praying the tickling would ease just a bit. Instead, it seemed to kick into a higher gear.

    “PLEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEEASE!!!” A tiny creeper vine had slid down, and lightly flicked a feathery frond over her swollen, pink clit. Brenda thought she would explode from the feeling, at once pleasurable and unbearable, it tickled so bad she thought she would go insane, and still the pressure built inside her, demanding release but being denied. She could feel the vines pumping in her speeding up, could feel them swell, could feel them erupt inside her, spurting out the plant’s potent seed. The feeling finally blew her past the tickling, past the pleasure, past everything as the long denied climax exploded inside her.


    She cried out in sweet release, shaking and spasming, her pussy gushing her honey out. The phalluses finished squirting their loads inside her, and pulled out. As they did, the seeds, now fertilized, fell to the soil and began to grow, sprouting thickening vines, reaching roots into the earth. The plant that had held her gently laid her down on the ground, withdrawing. For a full minute, she shook there as the aftershocks of the orgasm thundered through her. Another minute and her head began to clear, the resiliency and enhanced recuperative abilities given her by her belt beginning to restore her strength. She managed to push herself up onto her knees, only to come face to face with a new swarm of eager vines.

    “Oh no!” she gasped as the vines swept her up and the torture began anew.

    Over the course of two hours, the vines teased and tickled Ms. Americana, ripening her before seeding her, and planting another generation of plants. It was only when she reached the end of the row the Fetish himself returned, exercising his strange power over the plants, finally releasing her. After planting 12 tentickler plants and enduring their relentless torture, she fell to the ground and passed out, completely and utterly spent. New vines reached down and gently bore her to a small cot off to one side of the garden. Dr. Fetish looked at his new creations, and began to form plans to transport seeds to Delta City. He pulled his remote out of his coat pocket and clicked it, ending the recordings he had made of her ordeal. He knew they would fetch top dollar on the black market. Hell, he knew of at least two ticking websites that would fall all over themselves to acquire this footage.

    He turned and strode deep into his garden while Ms. Americana slept. Tomorrow would be another big day!

    THE END (for now!)
    "They can be a great people, Kal-El, if they wish to be. They only lack the light to show the way. For this reason above all, their capacity for good, I have sent them you. My only son."
    Jor-El to Kal-El
    Superman (1978)

    "Wait! Who are you?" Lois Lane
    "A friend" Superman
    Superman (1978)

    "You wrote that the world doesn't need a savior. But every day I hear them crying out for one."
    Superman to Lois Lane
    Superman Returns (2006)

  2. #2
    Join Date
    Jun 2007
    Newcastle UK
    Excellent. Very interesting set up and well carried out.
    "I assume I need no introduction"

  3. #3

  4. #4
    Join Date
    Jul 2005
    where hotflashes attack
    Blog Entries
    Brilliant, absolutely brilliant my friend...it had all the essential ingredients that i crave in a tickle torture story...
    For those that believe, no explanation is necessary. For those who don't believe, no explanation is possible.

    From "The Song of Bernadette"

  5. #5
    Join Date
    Jan 2007
    I agree! Wonderful story. I've always thought it high time someone wrote a Ms Americana tickle story and you have done a great job. Please continue her adventures.

  6. #6
    Join Date
    Sep 2007
    Maryland, USA
    Two thumbs up.

  7. #7
    Join Date
    Dec 2004
    Thanks all! I haven't started anything yet, but I have a couple of ideas for follow up stories involving more of Mr. X's heroines.
    "They can be a great people, Kal-El, if they wish to be. They only lack the light to show the way. For this reason above all, their capacity for good, I have sent them you. My only son."
    Jor-El to Kal-El
    Superman (1978)

    "Wait! Who are you?" Lois Lane
    "A friend" Superman
    Superman (1978)

    "You wrote that the world doesn't need a savior. But every day I hear them crying out for one."
    Superman to Lois Lane
    Superman Returns (2006)

  8. #8
    Join Date
    Oct 2005
    The prospect of a barefoot Ms. Americana being used over and over as a supervilliain's tickle toy is an idea that has needed doing for a long time now. Well done.

  9. #9
    Join Date
    Jul 2008
    wow i loved it!

  10. #10
    Join Date
    Jul 2010
    I have enjoyed Mr. X's heroines for a long time and I love your story about Ms. Americana. You have tied together all the stories about the mutated plants attacking the heroines and made an appropriate mastermind responsible for it all. Hopefully, this is the start of a long series that includes all of Mr. X's heroines! One question, though. As I remember, the inscemenoids don't just impregnate their victims, sometimes they also milk them. Will we see that too in your stories?
    Last edited by bigmanhelper; 03-22-2012 at 12:35 PM.

  11. #11
    Join Date
    Mar 2007
    some where under the moon and sun in MI
    one of the best stories I have read in a l ong time.
    Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

    Have a history of sexual abuse and need someone to talk with? PM me about the TMF support group. We're here to listen and offer support.


  12. #12
    Join Date
    Dec 2004
    I am kicking around a sequel that features both Jungle Babe and Got Gal getting tangled up with Fetish's lusty vines. And I have a surprise in store for later as well. I hadn't considered the breast milking angle, but lately Mr. X has been showing how the heroines actually love it, so I may incorporate some tickling into that as well. Glad you liked the story!
    "They can be a great people, Kal-El, if they wish to be. They only lack the light to show the way. For this reason above all, their capacity for good, I have sent them you. My only son."
    Jor-El to Kal-El
    Superman (1978)

    "Wait! Who are you?" Lois Lane
    "A friend" Superman
    Superman (1978)

    "You wrote that the world doesn't need a savior. But every day I hear them crying out for one."
    Superman to Lois Lane
    Superman Returns (2006)

  13. #13

    As far as I know this is the only tickling story MrX has done. I too would love seeing both his and Nightwing316 characters being tickled tortured

  14. #14
    Join Date
    Dec 2004
    Any particular characters of Nightwing316's you like? Solar Woman?
    "They can be a great people, Kal-El, if they wish to be. They only lack the light to show the way. For this reason above all, their capacity for good, I have sent them you. My only son."
    Jor-El to Kal-El
    Superman (1978)

    "Wait! Who are you?" Lois Lane
    "A friend" Superman
    Superman (1978)

    "You wrote that the world doesn't need a savior. But every day I hear them crying out for one."
    Superman to Lois Lane
    Superman Returns (2006)

  15. #15
    Well definitely one the five main ones which are Solar Woman, Comet Girl, Ebony Avenger, Green Hornette and Mystique Maiden. With Ebony and Green being my favorites

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