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PGBT update
🕑 Added 2019-01-18 01:00:01 +0000 UTC
The female Amazo units were obviously built by men, Ivy mused bitterly. They were all identical: tall, well-built women with striking good looks. Sultry lips, proud breasts, lush buttocks. They had the glowing red eyes, pointed ears, and crimson skullcaps of their male counterparts, but with long black hair issuing from a topknot in the back of their helmets.
Also like the Amazos, they had a chassis of flesh-toned ‘skin,’ but where Amazo was bare from the waist up, with green-banded ‘pants’ covering his lower body, Amaza had the green stripes separated from each other by intervals of ‘skin’, like they were pieces of laundry. They gloved the large, heavenly breasts, the edges of the straps slicing across the softness of the cleavage, and kept going at regular intervals down the body, cutting across the sternum, the waist, the groin, and down the legs like stockings. It made these Amazas look like they were naked, with only a series of elastic bands covering them up to the smallest degree imaginable.
But at least they were online—each one of them built to be Justice League killers. And thanks to Hiro, they were at Ivy’s command.
“Amazas!” she said importantly. “I am your master! You will obey my commands!”
If Ivy didn’t perceive the irony in castigating the gynoids for their objectifying design, then ordering them about as slaves, it was perhaps the case that someone who named themselves after plant life isn’t presenting themselves as a great intellect in the first place.
“There are two superheroes in the other room!” Ivy continued. “I want you to absorb their powers and destroy them! Go! Chop-chop!”
The Amazas stood motionless, instead looking over Ivy. Never one to be modest at the best of times, she was still dressed—or undressed—for her rendezvous with Hiro, with only a few leafy fronds strategically placed around her otherwise bare body. And in all the commotion, their strategic placement had become… hit or miss. It was now plainly obvious that her green-yellow coloring continued to every orifice of her body, only her nipples continuing the colorful vibrancy of her red hair.
“What are you looking at?” Ivy demanded of them. She’d hardly gotten up that morning expecting to be objectified by a bunch of objects. “Go! Get to work! Right now!”
Displaying an off-putting synchronicity that stood anathema to all Ivy’s worship of plant life, the three Amazas broke from their positions around the room and walked up to Ivy, surrounding her on three sides, every footstep choreographed with the other two like Ivy was in the middle of some clockwork automation.
“What are you doing?” Ivy insisted, even more shrilly. “The forces of truth and justice are over there! Go get them! Harley could be in troub—“
But instead, the Amazas began caressing Ivy, three sets of hands stroking her body, seeming to experiment with the lushness of her curves and the soft firmness of her flesh. Then they began kissing her—one set of lips meeting Ivy’s while two more were on the sides of her neck, sucking happily at Ivy’s racing pulse. Ivy groaned at the sudden stimuli, letting in the tongue of the Amaza in front of her.
The hands roving over her body now found pleasurable purchase in her breasts, her ass, the wet opening between her legs—all of Ivy’s erogenous zones were being stimulated at once as she was kissed and sucked and squeezed. When she tried to push them away, the Amazas easily took her hands and brought them down between their own thighs, locking them in place with tightly clenched legs. Ivy was now pinned in place as they had their way with her.
Her nostrils flared, the villainess sharply taking in breath as her pleasure mounted. She smelled the familiar scent of her pheromones, only of a slightly strange flavor, and nearly omnipresent compared to her usual subtle weaving of chemicals. It was the Amazas. They had mimicked her ability to produce the aphrodisiac chemicals and were now dosing her with her own power, giving her a literal dose of her own medicine.
Ivy closed her eyes. She was too turned on and it felt too good for her to deny herself any longer. Opening her lips to the tongue investigating her mouth, she prepared herself for an endless helping of satisfaction.
It was then the Amazas stopped. As one, they released Ivy, so thoroughly abandoning her that she found herself sliding to the ground in their sudden absence. They walked out of the room in neat rank and file, leaving Ivy watching three delectable, identical asses jiggle as they walked away.
“Where are you going?” Ivy demanded of them. “Come back!”
She would’ve gone after them, could’ve killed them for arousing her so much and then leaving her high and dry, but she was so damn horny. The triple-strength dose of pheromones was too much for her. Lying on the floor, her lips still swollen from being kissed and twin hickeys standing out on either side of her throat, Ivy began to masturbate.
Both hands delved between her legs and tried to replicate the cool precision that had coaxed such warmth after her. And even if they couldn’t, Ivy came nonetheless. The pheromones had made her too tender, too sensitive; she orgasmed with the slightest touch. Yet, even as she climaxed, it was maddeningly less pleasurable than being fingered by the Amazas had been. She was finally left reaching back behind her curvy buttocks and driving the middle finger of her left hand into her anus, while her right palm smacked down against her entire sensitive pussy, trying to recapture with pain what the Amazas had done to her with numbers and sheer brusque callousness.
Maybe the Amazas weren’t built by men, Ivy thought to herself. Only a woman could know how good it felt to be forced a little, to be surprised with sexual ecstasy before even considering it—and only a woman could be so cruel as to deprive her victim of that at the moment of bliss.
She came again. It still wasn’t enough.
Comments
Shendude
Ivy's a bit of a butt-monkey in this story isn't she? Though she seems to be enjoying it. Certainly, this reader is.
