Phallica #02

I spent the rest of the week finishing my finals and staying out of trouble like a good girl. With this semester finally over, I had a few months of just needing to work my part-time job, and otherwise being free to not involve myself in ridiculous superhero shenanigans. That’s what I told myself anyway.

I knew I shouldn’t have jinxed it.

I sensed a familiar cock as I approached my apartment, pulling into the spot in front of my building. I looked up through the windshield. In the twilight, the building’s side lights had already come on, partly illuminating the tiny third floor balcony of my room. I could make out a brown-skinned man in black shorts and a white tee-shirt sitting on my outdoor chair, one leg propped up on the other knee as he read a book.

I pursed my lips. Every cock’s psychic signal was unique as a fingerprint, and I knew immediately that the man was Zebra. Assuming he hadn’t just forced my doors open, he likely had just leaped up onto the porch from the stairwell or something. How in the hell did he find me?

Even though I knew he was a hero, and he’d even saved me from getting my skulled speared by rebar a few nights ago, it was rather uncouth to just show up at a woman’s place uninvited. I sent a psychic signal of a hand clamping down on his balls. Not hard enough to hurt, but a very firm grip that informed him he wasn’t about to be going anywhere. I saw and sensed him jump in his chair, but my phantom hand tugged him back into his seat. I couldn’t actually force him down, of course, but any attempt to get up would feel like he was stretching his balls to the breaking point.

I took my time getting out of the car, collecting my things, and heading up the stairwell. I saw that he had not, thankfully, kicked my door in. I opted not to change as I entered my place, staying in my dark red skirt and light blue blouse, and keeping my shoes on in case I had to suddenly start running. I did take the time to put my things away, use the bathroom, and get a drink of water, drawing out the suspense for him before I finally went to the sliding balcony door and unlocked it. I slid it open and poked my head out.

“Can I help you, sir?” I said coyly.

“Very cute,” Zebra said, blanching. “Could you let me go, please?”

My phantom grip had remained firm, and he had to keep making a conscious effort not to grab himself in instinctive defense.

“Tell me why you’re here first,” I said.

He glanced around. “I’d rather talk privately,” he said. “This is about… business.”

I frowned. I wasn’t getting any sort of sketchy erotic thoughts from him, just a bit of panic at my psychic grip. I hadn’t thought a hero, even a relative newbie, would really be out to cause trouble, but one could never be careful in this crazy world of superhumans.

“Alright,” I said. I released my psychic grip, and he audibly sighed. I slid the door open more fully, and he gingerly got up and entered.

My place wasn’t big, just a four-room apartment. A ratty couch and old TV dominated the living room, with two mismatched wooden chairs to either side, and a fold-out table serving as the “entertainment center.” The bedroom was where I kept most of my mess of discarded clothes, with the kitchenette was bordered by another fold-out table where my mess of papers, books, and old laptop sat. It didn’t occur to me to be embarrassed about my little hovel until he was already inside. A pity, I could have made him sweat it out longer as I straightened up.

“So what was that about?” he asked, a little miffed.

“Sorry, but I get a little suspicious of weird men stalking me,” I said.

He frowned for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I would, too. I take it you know who I am?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I recognized your cock.”

His eyebrows raised a bit, both at my brazenness and the feat itself. “You can really pick us out that fast? We were only close by for a couple of minutes.”

I shrugged. I never consciously tried to memorize a man’s sexual psychic signal, it just sort of automatically filed itself in my mind if I ever used my power on one or took the time to pay attention to a specific one.

“I dunno, man, I just work here,” I said. I gave him a small smile. He gave a puff of air through his nose and slight jerk of his shoulders that I took to be a mini-laugh. “So, this business. What’s up?”

“We’re having trouble locating anymore of these drug sales,” he said. “Our contacts are coming up empty, but just last night, we caught a guy who’d made a new purchase. We managed to stop him from using the drug, but clearly a new batch has gone out, and we don’t know from where.”

“Okay, so, what do you want me to do about it?”

“How did you find out about the last sale?”

I tried to maintain a poker face, but of course, I could only half hide the answer. Obviously I had heard about the sale, or I wouldn’t have been there to intercept it. But that was an aspect of my power I had opted to keep secret, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to just give it away to a total stranger. One who would probably be even more uncomfortable around me than before once he found out.

I decided on a little gamble. “First, tell me how you find out where I lived,” I asked.

“Ring Mage tracked you with one of his vision rings,” he said with a shrug. “You never saw it following your car.”

I blinked in surprise. I hadn’t expected him to be so forthcoming. “Oh,” was all I could think to say. I hesitated, then made a half-hearted grin, “And is my location all he spied on?” I cocked my hips and put a hand on them, striking a bit of a sexy pose.

“Yes,” he said flatly, crossing his arms. “Now, please. We’re getting a little desperate here. If you have any leads at all, we really could use any help we can get. I know we told you to stay out of it, but if you know someone who knows someone, or whatever, we’d appreciate it if you could point us in the right direction. You said you heard about it from people in your apartment?”

I frowned again, dropping my pose. “I appreciate that drugs are a big deal, but if you let a few sales slip on you, it’s nothing to beat yourself up over. You can’t win them all.”

“You don’t understand,” he said. “There’s more to the drugs than just getting high. They’ve been cut with… look, I don’t want to get you involved, like I said. Let’s just say the people who use it may become extremely dangerous. We’re trying to cut this stuff off at the source, but we’ve hit a dead end.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated another moment, then sighed. “I don’t know how much I can help you. Truth is, I found out about that one sale thanks to my powers. I don’t just detect cocks, I can see men’s sexual fantasies.”

The poor guy tried very hard not to immediately think of me giving him a blowjob. He at least managed to keep his expression flat, but the image bloomed in his mind sharply. The blowjob quickly turned into sex, missionary, then doggie style, with his inner voice mentally smacking at himself to quit being so lewd.

I smiled. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

He shook his head and refocused himself. “Okay, well, how did you find out about the sale then?”

“I can only see a man’s sex fantasies,” I said, motion to my head. “I can’t really see anything else, so I can’t really pick up any other details in their minds, except as related directly to their fantasies.” I motioned out the window. “So, one of my neighbors, she’s, well, she’s basically a hooker on the side. One of the punks from that sale was over here that night. They were really going at it, and when a guy is having sex that close by, I can’t really tune them out that well. While he was fucking her, I caught him thinking about all the ‘dripping sluts’ he was going to bang once he’d gotten his score.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what the exact arrangement was, but I think the guy skimmed a little off the top to afford my neighbor before they made the sale. We’ve had a few problems with cocaine and heroin in the area; I thought maybe this guy was a local supplier, so I figured I’d go after him and ruin his business. So, that’s what I was doing that night.”

“I see,” said Zebra. A saw a hint of sympathy in the look he gave me. I wondered if his own hero career had started with a similar concern.

I shook my head. “I know, it was pretty reckless and impulsive, but the cops can’t seem to get anything done about the drug problem. My neighbor in the apartment below me overdosed last month; I guess it got me pretty on edge about these things. Like I said, my power lets me handle guys really easily, so I figured I could put a dent in some of the drug traffic if I went and crushed their balls until they gave up their goods.”

“And what were you planning to do with them once you got them?” said Zebra. It was a reasonable question, and in truth, I hadn’t even thought that far ahead.

I shook my head again. “I don’t know. I want to say I’d have given the money to a charity or something, but if I’m being completely honest, I might have just kept it. Some of it, at least. I never got my hands on it to be tempted, obviously. As for the drugs, I planned to destroy them. Not sure how, maybe flush it all. What even was it?”

“Cocaine,” said Zebra. “It’s a good thing we interfered, then. We don’t need this stuff getting into the environment.”

“Sorry,” I said with a frown.

He made a small shrug. “I suppose it worked out in the end.”

“So what did you do with everything?”

“Ring Mage was able to incinerate the drugs. As for the money, well, a team like ours doesn’t exactly get government funding.”

I was a little surprised to hear that. “Really? You just kept it all?”

He looked to the side, a little embarrassed for a moment. “Some of us have bills to pay.” Composing himself, he added. “Obviously, if the money had been stolen, we’d have returned it to the original owner.”

“I see,” I said. After a moment, I added. “Well, since I did help out, I don’t suppose I get a cut?”

Zebra scowled. “You really didn’t help out. You almost ruined everything.”

I frowned, but nodded. I wasn’t about to argue that point, and I’d mostly been joking anyway. However, he then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stack of hundred dollar bills held together by a paper clip.

“Two grand,” he said, and dropped the stack on my coffee table. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped a bit. “Please understand, we do not want to encourage you into this lifestyle. But I figured some cash would be worth some information. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

I counted the bills. Two grand, alright. This would help a lot. Unfortunately, I didn’t have anything else to tell. “I’m really sorry,” I said. “I haven’t sensed him come back to the area, nor have I picked up any of the other guys that were there. And my power only detects thoughts oriented around sex and information immediately related to it. Catching that drug sale on his mind was almost a fluke.”

Zebra frowned. “There’s no way you can try and track him down from here?”

I shook my head. “’Fraid not. My power’s range is only a kilometer for sending and sensing. And before you ask, I highly doubt the woman he was with that night would know anything. As far as I could sense, he’d never met her before, and he didn’t bother talking much while he was doing her.”

Zebra sighed. “Damn. I was really hoping for something.”

“Sorry,” I said. “And, um, sorry for groping you.”

He waved me off. “I understand your caution. No harm done.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Now listen, I really don’t want you to encourage you to get any further involved. But in case that man comes back, or you happened to hear anything, you can contact us here.” I took the paper, which had an e-mail address.

“Alright,” I said. “I will definitely contact you. Good luck with all this.”

He nodded with a smile. “Stay out of trouble, Phallica.” He started walking towards the door.

I blinked. “Wait, what? Phallica?”

Zebra paused, then laughed. “Oh, sorry. We nicknamed you that after we dropped you off. I almost forgot you never actually told us a name.”

I frowned, but honestly, I couldn’t think of anything better. Or worse. “Fine,” I said. I didn’t want to give away my real name anyway. “Phallica it is. You take care, Zebra.”

“I intend to,” he said.

I smirked as he turned away. “Try not to masturbate too hard thinking about me.”

He didn’t turn around, but I could sense him blush, and his cock twitch once. He exited with haste, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. A pity he had to leave so soon. In a more relaxed meeting, I could have had some real fun with him.

Still, though, as I showered and changed into a light robe and fresh underpants, I couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by “people using the drug becoming more dangerous.” Was it going to turn them rabid or something? I hoped Zebra’s little team could stop all this before it became a big enough incident to require a team like the Protectors to intervene. I really didn’t relish the idea of my home city getting torn to shreds like the major metropolises on the continent tended to.

I knew it was stupid, but his words had spooked me. If they were really having that much trouble, maybe resting on my laurels wasn’t right, even despite Zebra’s warning to stay out of it. I wasn’t entirely sure what to do, but if I could lend my aid in any way, it was my duty to do so, right? Maybe not as a superhero, but at least as a concerned citizen.

***

You would think something as brazenly vulgar as psychic cock-control powers would manifest in a crack whore or a slutty cheerleader or maybe some black widow gold digger or something. I have no idea why I of all people ended up with them. The truth is, I’m a boring person. I don’t go out very often. I pretty much never drink unless it’s a very special occasion. My hobbies basically amount to watching soaps and game shows, and doing Tae Bo classes. I’m studying to be an accountant. I work at a discount clothing store. I saw my friends maybe twice a week during school, and now that summer break was here, I saw them even less as they’re all on vacation. Even with these powers, pretty much all of my dating and sexual experiences have been short flings, at best.

My point is, I just don’t live the sort of exciting life you’d think a superhuman would, and if I was cut out for that, you’d think I’d get powers that weren’t so narrowly restricted. And lame.

So, I had approximately zero experience or even idea of how I was going to go about investigating this case. After mulling it over, all I could really think to do was wait until I had a couple days off, then spend that time driving around the city, cruising about until my powers detected one of the guys from the drug sale. Whether it was the punks or the business-casuals, one of them was probably still in town. At least the punks likely were. I hoped. If I could find one of them, maybe I could use my powers to coax some information from them. I doubted I’d find anything the hero guys wouldn’t already know, but there wouldn’t be any harm in trying, right?

Wrong, actually. Obviously if I got caught, I could end up with a bullet between my eyes. Or a super strong chick crushing me with her ball and chain. Or probably something even worse. It was a high risk for potentially very little reward, especially for someone who’d never even played sports, much less been in a real fight before that night at the warehouse.

And yet, despite how boring I thought I was, I kept feeling that mental itch, some unexpected desire to do something more relevant with my days than just meandering through a life of work and television. It was a call to adventure tickling my brain in a way that would not be ignored, drowning out even the psychic chorus of cocks I somehow managed to tune out every day.

And so, here I was, just a few days after Zebra told me to stay out of trouble, cruising around town in my beat up old car like I was on the longest stretch of errand-running of my life. I did, in fact, get a little shopping done while I was out, but that was just incidental. I didn’t get dressed up in my “hero suit,” of course, just some tan shorts and a red tank top, the sort of casual look any young woman minding her own business would be wearing. I was not planning on physically approaching my targets, after all, and I wanted as little attention paid to me as I could manage without being conspicuous about it.

Seven hours went by, during which time I went down more unfamiliar streets than I had discovered in two whole years of going to college in this city. Up and down neighborhoods and apartment complexes, down business districts and office buildings, even cutting through a few parks. I was starting to get really fatigued, and a little frazzled as the day time traffic shifted between rushes. I found myself particularly aggravated as I ended up stuck in a traffic snarl in the middle of downtown, right during rush hour. It did not help, of course, that I had my powers tuned in to try and pick up the psychic hum of familiar cocks. Those I had touched or used my powers on were the ones that tended to imprint on me, and my powers could pick them out of a crowd like spotlights in a sea of candles, but the droning thrum of signals from thousands of unfamiliar cocks dulled my senses and attention on the real world somewhat. I had to be very careful driving, lest the distraction cause me to get into a wreck. I had a few close calls as it was.

As I inched along an entrance ramp to the main highway, ready to call it a day and go back home, I finally felt the glimmer of familiarity from a cock I’d played with before. Focusing my sexual senses, I snapped my attention towards it. It was one of the business-casuals! He was rapidly approaching in a vehicle, starting on the edge of my senses, almost a kilometer away and getting closer. I couldn’t actually see where he was, of course, so I had no idea what the layout of his path was like. He was moving faster than a person, so he was obviously in a vehicle, but there was a lot of slowdown-speedup, quick stops and jolting starts. He was probably one of those assholes who rode a motorcycle, and cut through traffic by driving between lanes or right along the shoulder.

It was easier to think now that I could focus on just him, but he didn’t seem to be getting closer, moving almost perpendicular through the edge of my senses, even as I inched forward through the traffic jam. Unless he made a sudden turn towards me, I was going to lose him. I chewed my lip. I couldn’t go after him in this traffic; the way I was positioned, I couldn’t even do a u-turn without driving down the hill the entrance ramp was built on and getting stuck in the ditch at the bottom.

Thinking fast, I ran through my options. I didn’t want to just yank on his balls and cause him to wreck. I tried looking into his mind, but there wasn’t anything remotely sexual happening there, never mind a fantasy with enough context to give me a clue as to where he might be going. I could try giving him an uncomfortable enough boner to make him pull over and have to do something about it or wait until it went down before he could drive off again (which would mean not until I could get out of this jam to get closer), but it was likely he’d remember the last time someone mysteriously played with his cock from afar, and he might hightail it out of there.

Think, think, think, what else could I do? I could sense him approaching the edge of my range fast, only a couple of blocks away at this rate. God, if only I had influence over a guy beyond just making his cock feel things! Like if I could make him feel like he had to poop real bad or…

Or pee! I couldn’t control men’s bladders, but there were nerve receptors in the penis that were connected to it, sometimes the pressure of needing to urinate extending into the urethra in a way. If I could replicate that sensation, the connected nerves deeper inside him might trigger enough make him have a sudden overwhelming need to take a piss.

I gave it a shot. I’d never tried the trick before, but my powers seemed to operate pretty much on a kind of cruise control of their own. I simply imaged what I wanted a man to feel, and he felt it, my power doing all the tricky processing work of figuring out how to stimulate the nerves all by itself. I didn’t really know the mechanics of my powers, honestly. I just knew that either a trick worked or it didn’t.

I thought it hadn’t. I could sense his cock feel the pressure of needing to urinate, and I thought I sensed it move a bit wobbly, as if he’d jumped in his seat. I made the sensation stronger, willing him to feel as though he was about to piss his pants. Finally, I sensed a sharp turn in his trajectory, then him coming to a sudden stop, then a steady speed closer to someone running. He’d pulled over and was probably running into a building. Thank god.

A minute later, I reached the highway, and the traffic started moving steadily. We’d simply been bottlenecked at the entrance. Thankfully, the guy was still on the edges of my senses, and my turn was taking me closer to him. As I made my way to the very next exit ramp, I kept my senses locked. He stayed in whatever bathroom he’d found for a few minutes, then dawdled a bit outside it, probably getting something from whatever store or gas station he was in, before getting back onto his vehicle. I debated giving him another sensation to stall him, but I figured all that would do is arouse his suspicions. I noted the direction he was going, moving away from me and out of my range again, but at least in the same general direction I was heading.

Once I’d gotten back off the highway and onto clearer streets, I just headed in the same direction as fast as I could without speeding. After a few tense minutes, during which I thought I had lost him, he briefly pinged back on the edge of my senses again, distantly to my left. I managed to correct quickly, and caught him again, as he was stopped somewhere. We played a rather interesting game of cat and mouse this way, as he kept getting ahead of me, thanks to his vehicle being able to go through traffic better, but various things making him stop long enough for me to catch up.

I chased him for nearly five kilometers through the city, and into the suburbs, where he finally stopped. I zeroed in on his position, my car winding through the weaving roads of suburban neighborhoods, until I happened upon a subdivision filled with recently constructed duplexes. The street dead-ended into a circle turn around; I passed the house my target was in, turned, and passed it again, noticing a motorcycle in the driveway. I parked, engine idle near the intersection, with my target three houses behind me. I pulled over and pulled out my phone, pulling up the GPS app so anyone looking at me might think I was just lost.

There weren’t that many people out at the moment, though. Other than a couple old guys out on a porch, some kids playing in one of the yards, and a couple young women power walking down the sidewalk, everyone seemed to be indoors or probably not even home.

I examined my target’s house more carefully, as well as my target. There were no other men home at the moment, and I didn’t think there were any women, given how I didn’t sense any live glimpses of female form in his awareness. I dug deeper into his mind, sifting through his sexual memories. No current girlfriends, but a string of one-night stands, and flings. A friend with benefits and a couple ex-girlfriends he’d left behind in his hometown when he moved here.

I searched through his memories of making love to his exes. It took a few minutes, but I finally caught a couple that gave me a very important detail. One of the exes would call out his name as she orgasmed: Michael. Guys really like it when you do that; if you haven’t done it for them, they’ve probably fantasized about it a few times. It’s a surprisingly reliable way for me to identify a guy.

I stretched the telepathic edges of my power to its limit as I focused on his name. Sometimes, the very barest glimpse of a related scrap of information would slip through the fog that usually blocked out all non-sexual thoughts. This was easier to do when they were actually having sex, but I had to take what I could get. I was able to discern enough to intuit that his full name was Michael Arthur Rulo. I managed to catch the street number of his home in my rearview mirror and noted the street name on the corner sign.

It was enough information to give to Zebra and his team. All I had to do was send that e-mail. I had written it down a couple times, including an extra note in my purse. I started typing up the e-mail on my phone.

Then I paused. Was this really it? I was just going to give them a name and number? I chewed my lip in thought. This seemed like a real wasted opportunity. How exactly were Zebra and his crew going to handle this? Just bust down his door and rough him up until he spilled his guts? Would the guy confess or would he hold out and file a lawsuit?

Superheroes like Zebra stood in a very grey legal and moral area in this country. We needed people like him to defend us from superhuman threats the cops couldn’t stop. But vigilantism was still illegal, and so only those superheroes officially sanctioned by the government could act as true law enforcement. Men like Zebra were outlaws, and the government only looked the other way so long as they limited their activities. Stepping in to stop a rampaging supervillain? Sure. Breaking into people’s homes to force confessions or accosting them on the street? Big displays of power, pushing civilians around? The only places they might get away with that were in the worst areas of the ghettoes.

If they showed up at Michael’s place, and he denied everything and didn’t have anything incriminating on him, Zebra and his group would get in more trouble than him. I guess Ring Mage could try tracking the guy, but what if that failed exchanged had scared him off crime for a while? Surely the small team of heroes didn’t have time to just stake the place out for days while they had other problems to address.

I could try to give this information to the cops, but unless they had something solid to go off of, could they do anything? They wouldn’t just arbitrarily bust his door down and do a drug raid, would they? If the guy didn’t have anything in the house, and I doubted he would have something as dangerous as what Zebra described just on hand, what good would it do?

Worse still, he had supervillain connections. If the cops or the superheroes showed up at his door, could things turn ugly? Michael had somehow gotten the services of that Broad chick. You didn’t just hire superhuman muscle if you were a grunt. Even if it was just as a patsy for someone higher up the chain, he might have access to dangerous resources that could turn a direct confrontation ugly. Surely, what was needed here was a more indirect touch.

Alright, obviously, I was just thinking up excuses. The smartest thing would be to e-mail Zebra and send a tip to the cops, and let them sort it all out. But I spent all goddamned day trying to find this guy, surely I could get more than just a name and address. Of course, I wasn’t about to just knock on the guy’s door, and say, “Hey, tried to sell any good drugs lately?”

Rather than stay any longer and risk someone noticing me loitering, I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat, shook my head as if frustrated, and drove away, mulling over how to go about this.

The answer, of course, was obvious. I couldn’t extract that kind of information telepathically, not even trying to stretch my mind reading while I was using my powers on him. But I could coax what I needed out of him with a little cock and ball torture. The issue, of course, would be how would I do it without revealing who I was? I could use my powers on him from a safe distance, but I needed to actually talk to the guy while I was busting his balls. And I needed to do it in such a way that he wouldn’t be able to call for help, and he wouldn’t be able to trace me.

As I drove back onto the nearest business road, I noticed a gas station with a rather large convenience store attached. Another block down, there was a coffee shop. A plan clicked into place.

Ten minutes later, I was sitting in a corner of the coffee shop with some tea, tucked into the most isolated chair I could find. From here, Michael was only half a kilometer away, due to how the neighborhoods lined up. In my hand was a cheap, clam-shell style burner phone, the kind people could use and dispose of on the fly when needing to perform anonymous communications. Paid for with cash, of course. I had two hours pre-paid, and hoped I wouldn’t need that many.

After activating the phone, I reached out with my power. Back at his duplex, Michael’s cock began to stiffen. I sensed his confusion. He hadn’t had a sudden, inexplicable boner since High School. He’d also never had a hard on like I could give a guy. I commanded his cock to swell to full mast, stiffening until it almost hurt. He clutched at himself, and I sensed him yanked his pants off as the cloth became too restrictive. His cock waved in the air, twitching away. He grasped himself, not entirely sure what was happening. The previous night’s ball-busting didn’t even occur to him yet.

I couldn’t completely force sheer arousal on a guy, but I could sort of tweak the nerves in his cock and balls to anticipate sexual stimulation. This would cause a bit of feedback that could easily spark the beginnings of real sexual desire in a man, but it was a tenuous thing. If he was emotionally distracted or too freaked out or just solidly not in the mood, he wasn’t going to feel turned on no matter how hard I made him.

I did what I could. He found himself startled into a degree of arousal as I made his nerve endings a bit more sensitive to touch. He stroked himself hesitantly, and was surprised at how good it felt. His mind sort of clicked over into a default “fuck it, why not jerk one off real quick.” Before he could start stroking in earnest, however, I did another trick.

I sent the sensations of a feminine fingernail lightly dragging over the flat of his penis head. It was light, but pin-point sensation. Men’s penis heads were such a concentrated bundle of nerves that anything felt in one spot tended to radiate out to feel larger than it was. Ergo, making sure the stimulation registered with the precision of a ballpoint pen took a little doing. I had to add some pressure to make sure the message was getting across.

Michael jumped in his seat, grabbing at his cock head. He rubbed it a bit, as if he thought he could massage out the sensation, but I kept it going, making several precision traces in a row, pausing for five seconds, then repeating. I wasn’t aiming for pleasurable teasing or tickling, and suppressed some sensitivity so the sensation wouldn’t wash out.

It took him almost five minutes to realize I was lightly scratching numbers against his flesh, the same sequence over and over, with only the pause to indicate where it began and ended. He finally scrambled for a pen and paper and jotted the numbers down. Once I knew he had it, I stopped the sensations.

He didn’t get it. After several minutes of waiting, and watching his thoughts cloud over as he tried to puzzle over math or patterns or whatever in his mind, I sighed in annoyance. I should have put dashes between the numbers. I sent a new set of scratches, letters this time, which spelled out “Call me.”

Half a minute later, my new phone rang. I flipped it open and spoke quietly into the receiver, using the huskiest voice I could manage. “Hello?”

“Who the fuck is this?!” he yelled, panic in his voice.

“Aw, you don’t remember me, Michael?”

“NO!”

I sent a sensation of a hand lightly squeezing his balls. Not enough to hurt, but enough to jolt a very prominent memory to the front of his mind.

“You!” he said, shocked. “Who the fuck are you? What do you want?”

“I’d really like some information, Michael.” I made him feel the sensation of a hot, wet mouth suddenly closing over his cock, drawing slowly down his length, then back up, the tongue pressing rhythmically against the shaft. He let out a soft gasp, mostly of surprise at both the sensation itself, and just how good it felt. “Tell me what I need to know, and I can give you a very pleasant reward.”

Then I made him feel the squeezing hand on his balls again and he almost yelped. “Refuse me, and I can give you a very rough punishment.”

“F-fuck you!” he said.

I squeezed him harder, until it actually hurt a bit. “Oh, Michael, please don’t be that way. I really don’t want to hurt you. I would much rather make you feel nice things.” I put the phantom mouth on him again for several slow, intense sucks that left him breathing heavy. “Wouldn’t you rather feel nice things?”

“Y-you cost me my big sale!”

“To be fair, those other guys were going to bust you anyway,” I said.

“W-what other guys?”

“Broad didn’t tell you?”

“That dumb cunt never came back to the rendezvous,” he said. “I haven’t heard anything from anyone since.”

“Nothing from your boss?” I said.

“I didn’t have a boss.”

I held him with the mouth on his cock, unmoving, while the phantom hand held his balls. “So how, pray tell, did you get involved in the delivery?”

“I got… I got a job offer…”

I sucked him a bit more. “Go on.”

“On, uh, on this website…”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t, uh, can’t really…” The mouth stopped and the hand squeezed. “Ah!”

“Tell me what this site is, please.”

“I-if you d-don’t know, I can’t s-s-saAAAH!”

“Tell me,” I said with an icy coolness. He refused. I kept the squeeze going until he was thrashing madly on his bed, clutching himself desperately. I cut off the sensations so suddenly, it startled him into silence for a moment. Then I let the phantom mouth suck him some more, deeply, lovingly. His sensitive cock jumped and twitched as within just a few seconds, I drew him towards a very sudden orgasm. “Tell me,” I said in my sultriest whisper.

He whimpered. I snapped the sensations back, right before he would cum, stopping the mouth and squeezing his balls with a sudden fierceness beyond what I’d been building up. He yelped so loud I jumped, and I heard his phone clatter to the floor. I glanced around, hoping no one had heard the nose, but if anyone heard, they didn’t bother reacting. I eased up the ball-squeezing sensations, but kept the hand firmly on him. I heard him scramble to pick up the phone.

“Please, I don’t, I can’t, just let me go…”

“Tell me,” I said, icily again, and started squeezing once more.

“Dispos.garlic!” he blurted out before the pain really hit. I eased up at once.

I let him hang there, sweating in terror for a moment, before I gave him several light, tender licks, in just the right places. I sensed him shiver. The whiplash of sensations was messing with him.

“What kind of site is a dot-garlic?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“It’s… it’s Dark Web… websites for… criminal stuff…”

“Dark Web, huh?” I knew what that was. You needed special browsers to utilize it, and people had to send you lists of addresses to go to, since none of the pages could be found on search engines. “Interesting. And this website, Dispos?” I gave him a few more encouraging licks.

“Supervillains and… cartels… mafia… use it to recruit… patsies…” he huffed as I built him back towards an orgasm.

“I see,” I said. I highly doubted Zebra’s team or the cops didn’t know about such a site, but it wouldn’t hurt to check it out, myself. Maybe. “How does that work?”

“Constant stream of… phone numbers and e-mails… codes for type of assignment… you call a number or send a message and whoever it is tells you the job…” he huffed again as he came close to climax. I slowed the mouth to a stop and held him. So close to the edge, he bucked his hips in the air. He started to gab himself, instinctively trying to jack off, but I made it so when his fingers touched, he felt a sharp, electric spark on his cock. He yelped and yanked his hands away.

“No cheating now!” I chided him. I let him cool down for a few seconds. “So what you’re telling me is…?”

“I, uh, I looked on the site. Friend of mine told me about it, he got it from his dealer. I called a number, I agreed to the drug sale. I met the other guy and that Broad chick at the rendezvous. The car with the drugs was already there.”

“Interesting system,” I said. I didn’t think he was lying, but it wasn’t exactly easy to tell. “Any idea why you had Broad with you?”

“I dunno, man, she said just in case we got busted by supers. A bunch of hits lately. I figured our sale was just a set up. You know, like she was being a hitman or something? Such a fucking dumb-ass, though, can’t imagine it’s her usual thing.”

I gave him a few more encouraging sucks. “I see. Anything else you’d like to tell me?”

“No.” I gave him another squeeze. “No! I swear! I don’t know anything else! I haven’t been back to the site, and no one’s contacted me since that night. Please, please, please just let me go!”

I held him in a light squeeze for a few more seconds, before I said, “Alright, Michael. Be good. Or I’m going to have to really punish you.”

“O-okay miss…” he said, breathlessly.

Then I shot wave after wave of pure, concentrated pleasure through his cock. He yelped and dropped the phone again as he thrashed on his bed. Just as he was about to cum, I did a wicked little trick where I seized the muscles that men use to ejaculate, and I forced them not to trigger. I was literally holding back his orgasm, even as I built the pleasure well past his threshold. The pleasure became overwhelming, just as overwhelming as the pain I’d given him previously. Pleasure so intense, it started to become a sort of pain in itself. And then, when he couldn’t even breathe anymore from the overload of sensations, I let him pop. With a scream, he bucked and heaved as I made him spray his semen everywhere, firing it so wildly and so hard he drenched the bed, himself, and the wall behind him. A few shots even hit the ceiling. The intense, soul-crushing climax knocked him clean into unconsciousness.

When he woke up, he’d feel like he pulled every muscle in his ass and groin. No permanent damage, although he’d definitely be sore down there for a little while; the last guy I’d done that trick to had walked crooked for a couple days. Hopefully, that would teach him to snoop around on suspicious websites to run errands for supervillains. I rather doubted it, though.

Cutting the connection, I e-mailed what I’d learned to Zebra, then I called the police tip line. I figured they might already know about the Dispos.garlic site; surely such an elaborate system would have been ratted out by somebody already, but I couldn’t just assume that. If I was the first whistle-blower, hey, I’d be helping far more than I expected.

Of course, he could have been making it up, but I could totally believe such a system existed, too. Supervillains could effectively temp-hire any grunt off the street, who had no idea who they were working for, and Dark Web activity was nearly untraceable. I’m sure they got a lot of dud applicants, but through sheer numbers and brute force, they probably got more accomplished than not.

I stayed at the coffee shop long enough to finish my tea, which had gone lukewarm by now. I tossed the phone in the dumpster behind the shop when I was sure no one was looking, then drove back home, mulling over my progress.

I’d have to check the site out. Maybe, if I was going to keep doing this ridiculous hero gig, I could use it to find out where more shady deals were going down, and use my powers to, if not stop the crimes, at least sabotage them in some way. I’m sure I wasn’t the first person to think of that, of course. But it’s not like I had my own superhero base with an elite hacker sidekick and a hotline to the mayor to help me out.