The Legion's crystal spire shone like a promise I couldn't keep. Thirty-first century air, sterile and odorless, filled lungs that weren't really mine – just borrowed structure clothed in Fifth-Dimensional static. Heroes laughed below, polished chrome and silk reflecting a future Clark Kent was a part of. Kara, statuesque in her Supergirl blues, met my eye with a knowing smile across the hall, her full breasts faintly straining against the S-shield, her hips swaying as she shifted. My anchor, my secret lover in this life. But tonight, the warm comfort of her full body, her luscious ass temptingly curved beneath her skirt, had already become routine. Predictable.
My eyes caught on colder light: Imra Ardeen. Saturn Girl stood alone in front of a panoramic viewport that was filled with the churning Orion Nebula, an ice and determination sculpture. Her Legion uniform encased a lean, athletic form – smaller, more petite breasts than Kara's, high and tight under the fabric, her buttocks hard and muscular. Her platinum hair was a waterfall frozen, her face a telepathic mask. A fortress. She was novelty personified, a woman I desired.
"Admiring the view, Saturn Girl?" My voice, Clark's smooth baritone, sliced through the ambient buzz as I appeared beside her, near enough that Fifth-Dimensional energy nipped at her psychic shields like static electricity. She didn't jump, but her grey eyes slit, her gaze fastened to the nebula. "It's… immense," she murmured, her voice peaceful, controlled. "A reminder of scale."
I moved closer, into her personal space, catching ozone and something metallic vaguely under her perfume. "Scale can get lonely," I whispered, my lips barely grazing the edge of her ear. "So much nothing. Makes you wanna connect, doesn't it? Something… real?" My hand grazed the small of her back, sensing the tense muscles under the thin material of her uniform, tracing the solid curve of her small ass. Her breath caught, a micro-fault in the ice. "Superman…" she began, a warning.
"Don't," I cut in, low and menacing, letting the Kansas charm fall away completely. "Don't hide behind the title, Imra. Not here." I smashed a wave of pure Fifth-Dimensional resonance against her mind – not an attack, but a projection: the devastating isolation of protecting imagination over endless voids, and most of all, the gut-wrenching, yearning recollection of *her* furtive glances at my form – the wide shoulders straining the Superman emblem, the chiseled muscles under my cargo pants fabric.
"I see the flicker behind your shields," I whispered, my hand straying down, fingers following the close seam of her uniform trousers over her small, tight ass cheeks. "That spark when you glance at me. Not Superman. Me." Her telepathic shields fluctuated rather perceptibly; her knuckles went white on the viewport railing, her small, high breasts rising quickly under the blue fabric. The nebula's glow sparkling beads of sweat on her temple. "This is forbidden... Dangerous." she breathed, but the protest was half-hearted, her voice heavy with suppressed shudder.
"Exactly," I whispered, my lips grazing her ear lobe, my free hand slipping around to cup one small, firm breast under her uniform, the hard tip of her nipple nestling into my palm. "That's why it's real." I pressed harder, inundating her mind with sensation – the ghostly brush of my teeth along her neck, the imagined warmth of my stiff length against her, the sheer, fearful thrill of surrender. Her tense stance collapsed; her head fell back on my shoulder with a strangled whimper, baring the pale column of her throat. Her mental shields didn't merely weaken – they vanished. Raw, animal hunger leapt through the shattered bond, a wild hunger that was the equal of my own.
"Where?" I growled, voice dense with predator anticipation, my erection straining noticeably against the cargo pants, heavy and thick beneath the material.
Imra didn't answer. A shudder coursed through her thin body as she cut her gaze from the nebula, her grey eyes open wide, pupils dilated black in a horrifying mixture of revulsion and hungering lust. Her hand flashed out, fingers sinking into my forearm with unexpected force, nails ripping Superman t-shirt sleeve. She spun, yanking me brutally from the viewport, her platinum hair lashing against flushed cheeks. "Come," she growled, the naked, hungry word ringing in the abrupt silence that gaped between us. The strong, muscular buttocks rippled beneath the rent fabric of her uniform trousers as she moved into a dark arch opening onto a private observation gallery, pulling me after her. The mask of Saturn Girl had fallen; only Imra remained, possessed of unmasked, primitive desire.
The gallery blazed with the pulsating purple and red light of the nebula, casting attenuated, distorted shadows. I discarded Clark Kent in entirety before the solid door could close behind us. Fifth-Dimensional energy crackled, tearing my t-shirt and cargo pants like tissue paper. My true form burst free – impossibly chiseled muscle under flawless skin, my thick, 12-inch dick thrusting stiffly erect, pulsing with brute power. Imra gasped, falling back against a curved viewport, her eyes fixed on my nudity.
"No masks," I snarled, stepping closer. With a vicious tear, I ripped open her uniform top, baring her small, firm breasts – compact mounds surmounted by erect, pink nipples already hardened to pebbles. My other hand tore downwards, tearing fabric to bare her firm, muscular buttock cheeks and the glossy pink folds of her pussy beneath a neatly trimmed triangle of platinum hair. She shuddered, pressing her firm ass harder against the chilly glass.
"Look at me," I told her, gripping her jaw, gripping her terrified eyes onto mine. Her lips shook. "You wanted real? This is it." I crushed my mouth onto hers, biting down harshly on her bottom lip so copper burst onto my tongue. My hand slipped between her legs, fingers slipping easily into her wet, tight hole. "Wet already," I growled against her mouth, jamming two fingers deep, her inner walls reflexively clenching around me. "Your tight little fucking pussy is a liar, Imra." Her hips jerked involuntarily under my hand, her tightly clenched ass slapping against the cold glass. "Stop... please..." she whispered, a futile protest swallowed by my mouth.
I pulled out my fingers, slick with her arousal, and wrapped them around my fat cock. "Beg properly," I growled, slamming the thick head of it into her wet hole. Her tiny breasts rose and fell, pink nipples hard points against the light of the nebula. "Please... take me," Imra panted, screwing her little ass up off the cold glass. "Harder than you've ever—"
My push stopped her. I forced myself into her tight, oily cunt with brutal force, driving all 12 inches in deep. Her inner walls gripped me like a vice on my cock, her pink folds spread obscenely over my bulk. "Fuck!" she screamed, her taut asshole clenching automatically to the rhythm of the glass as I steadied her hips. The viewport groaned with each brutal drive. "Yes! Tear me apart!" Her smooth legs shook, taut flesh shuddering as I pistoned unmollified, nipping at her neck and shoulder and her nails raking bloody channels down my back.
Her orgasm exploded like a supernova. Imra wracked convulsively, her hard ass rising clear out of the viewport as her cunt bucked wildly in spasm about my cock. Milky fluid poured down her thighs. "Don't stop!" she begged, voice torn raw. I tossed her around, battering her sweaty belly against the nebulalit glass. Her hard, tiny breasts flattened to the cold, hard pink nipples beading further. "Shut up," I growled, pressing her muscular hips to the glass. Her puckered asshole winked invitingly over her bulging pink folds. I plunged back into her slick heat without warning, deeper. Her gagging scream rang out as I ravaged her relentlessly into the vibrating glass.
The hunger was bestial, savage. Every push pushed her squeezing ass cheeks against my hip, the flesh slapping disproportionate to her whimpering. Her inner walls thrashed wildly against my cock, wetness sluicing my balls. "Feel it," I growled, biting the back of her neck. "Feel how little you are next to me." Her shuddering grew more frantic, her tight muscles tensed. "Please... more." she gasped, her words shredded apart. Her clenched shut asshole pulsed rhythmically in the glow of the nebula, a small pink knot inviting to be caressed.
Her second climax pounded through her uncontrollably. Imra screamed, little breasts pressed against the glass, nipples stiff points of pain-sensation. Milky discharge sprayed out onto the viewport below her. "Inside!" she pleaded, pushing her hips up. "Fill me!" I pump deep, rubbing against her cervix as fat plumes of cum flooded into her clenching cunt. She shuddered, her tight ass shaking as heat spilled over her depths. "Mine," I grind, withdrawing slowly, seeing my seed trickle down her puffy pink folds onto quivering thighs.
I turned her around. Her gray eyes were glazed, unfocused. "Clean it," I ordered, brutally jamming her face into my oily, softening cock. "Every drop." Shaking hands, Imra wrapped my shaft, her tongue hesitantly mapping the bold veins. Her pink lips enveloped the head, sucking weakly. "Faster," I growled, twining my fingers in her platinum locks. She picked up speed, taking me deeper, gagging as she swallowed my spunk combined with her wetness. Her tight asshole clenched rhythmically beneath the glow of the nebula as she serviced me.
Her tiny breasts quivered against my leg. "Good girl," I growled, observing her working throat. She moaned over my cock, her tightening pink nipples wedging into me. Her little buttock cheeks clenched as she knelt, bared. "Swallow," I commanded, driving deeper. She did, her tight throat muscles convulsing around my tip. Milky lines oozed from the sides of her puffed lips.
The nebula's red shine colored stripes on her battered flesh—bite marks bruising along her neck, my spunk shining on her thigh meat. Her tiny high breasts were streaked with small scratches where my fingernails caught. "Look at yourself," I ordered, yanking her away from my dick with a wet smack. Her grey eyes sprang open at her reflection in the viewport: creased uniform rucked up over her waist, pink folds puffed and shining, clenched asshole straining beneath purple cheeks. "This is what you needed," I said, my voice dispassionate. Her trembling fingers tracked a bite mark. "I... I feel...." she stuttered.
A psychic scream—tense, anguished—stood out in my awareness: Lightning Lad's mind scream. "Imra? Where are you—"
Clark Kent's borrowed sense of morality flared like a fading star. Conscience, heavy and sick, churned within me. He loves her, the ghost of Clark whispered. My Fifth-Dimensional confidence faltered for an instant. The sweetness of Imra's blood was suddenly bitter on my lips.
Then the cosmic rationale reasserted itself, hard and unyielding. "Casualty damage," I breathed, observing Imra wince at the roughness of my voice. Her small, rigid nipples quivered imperceptibly beneath the nebula's unsteady light, her rose-tipped nipples still throbbingly erect. "He was always... irrelevant noise." The shame melted like smoke. What was done could not be undone; her tight pink cunt still stretched and dripping with my semen onto the very highly polished floor, her little ass bruised and imprinted with the shape of my grip. Lightning Lad didn't matter. She had been changed beyond recall.
I withdrew, Fifth-Dimensional energy churning around me. Clark Kent's uniform coalesced without effort – the familiar blue fabric flowing over my trained musculature, the red cape flowing down onto my shoulders. The Superman mask snapped shut again, slim and unbroken. Imra gazed up at me on her knees, her grey eyes wonderful lakes of shocked confusion in the remains of her uniform and pride. Milky streams of our mixed fluids sparkled on her chin. "Do you feel okay?" I said, my voice now Clark's soft baritone, completely discordant with the ruin around her.
"Feel?" Imra gagged out, her voice hoarse. Her quivering fingers automatically covered her little, high breasts, smoothing over the scratches slashing their tight surface, to her puffy pink folds, still tacky with my receding seed. Her little cheeks of ass tightened involuntarily against the cold floor. "You... you broke me." A tear lanced through the dried sweat on her cheek. "Garth... he felt."
I knelt beside her, Superman's cape labial, the red glistening on the sheen of the floor. My hand, Superman's hand, holding onto her chin—soft yet firm. "He felt betrayal," I rasped, my Clark Kent voice low, almost a whisper. "But what you felt, Imra." My thumb caressed her lower lip, leaving behind streaks of cum. "...that hunger ripping through your psychic shields? That wasn't betrayal. That was truth." Her grey eyes went wide, pupils still dilated with leftover shock and something darker, deeper. "Truth?" she breathed, her pink nipples puckering visibly beneath the shredded fragments of her uniform.
"The truth Lightning Lad never came near," I whispered, moving in closer. My other hand mapped the contours of her little, firm breast, fingertips trailing across the hard tip. Below, her pink flesh creased and shined wet, her open mouth a trifle puffed, my semen still pooling at her entrance. Her small ass cheeks quivered against the chill of the floor. "I didn't know about him," I said, Clark's honesty creeping into my words—a good slice of ignorance. "But knowing doesn't change anything. Look at you." I nodded toward her battered form—the scratch marks on the back of her neck, the scratch marks across her flat stomach, the sticky grime between her legs. "Could he ever make you feel so... alive?"
Imra's breath caught. Her grey eyes blazed—fear battling with the raw, unholy thrill still flowing through her veins. She looked at herself: torn clothes, shaky legs, the hard pink circle of her asshole holding tight over bruised cheeks. "He... he touches me gently," she breathed, her voice stifled by tears. "Safe." Her fingers stroked her swollen clit, slick with proof of us both. "This wasn't safe."
"It was necessary," I said, Clark's calming cadence shrouding the Fifth-Dimensional reality. I traced the emerging bite mark on her shoulder. "Gentleness is a cage, Imra. You tasted the bars." Her tiny, high breasts trembled as she sucked in air. Below, her folded pink peaks throbbed openly, glistening with my drying seed. "Necessary?" A harsh laugh exploded from her. "To ruin me?"
"To awake you," I corrected, moving forward. My fingers stroked down her tense belly, fingertips tracing over the scratches I'd put there, lower, through the well-groomed platinum curls. She gasped when I touched the sore clit. "Notice what your body is doing. Your tight little cunt aches still. Your asshole tightens up like a fist." Her little ass cheeks tightened up against the cold floor, proof. "Lightning Lad provided safety. I gave you hunger. Which is more alive?"
Imra's grey eyes fixed on mine, the terror giving way to something uglier, nastier—acceptance. Her shaking hands lifted, following the S-shield on my chest. "I... I feel it," she whispered, her voice constricted. "This void inside... only brought to life by you." She wriggled her hips, permitting my fingers to sink deeper into her wet folds. Her rosy nipples hardened tighter against the torn fabric. "He'll never understand."
I rotated my thumb about her inflamed clit, eliciting a shocked gasp. "Then don't let him," I whispered, the soft words of Clark enveloping the command. Her clenched buttock cheeks pressed against the chill on the ground, her hard pink asshole thudding clearly through the light of the nebula. "But how?" she gasped, her small tits shaking. "He'll see... he'll know." Her eyes flashed to the bruising on her throat.
With a toss of my wrist, I peeled the bite marks from her throat and zippered her ripped uniform—Fifth-Dimensional energy stitches material and flesh back to meticulous order. The only most minute quiver of her hands betrayed what still remained underneath. "He'll see Saturn Girl," I whispered, tracing my thumb over now-smooth skin where mine had rested. "Cold... Untouchable. As he remembers." Her grey eyes opened wide—relief fighting the shock, the hurting loss of those bruises. Her tense hard butt slid along the floor, her tight pink folds still clearly wet and swollen under the return of the uniform. "But inside." Imra panted, her little breasts raking sharply. "I'm... different."
I leaned forward, Clark's smooth surface heating the predatory undertow. "Inside," I whispered into her ear, "you're starving." My hand traced down her thigh, fingers sketching the secret heat between her legs. Her pink nipples stiffened immediately beneath the blue cloth. "Feed that hunger slowly. Allow Lightning Lad to touch Saturn Girl." My fingers brushed her mound through the uniform, my fingers sensing her clit pulsating beneath. "But when you close your eyes." I pushed a spectral vision into her mind—my big dick pounding deep, her small ass cheeks slapping against my hips. "Remember who this tight little cunt belongs to." She gasped, thighs tightening around my hand. "Yes," she choked out.