Fuchsia Fox : “Mind Games”, by Centurion

Hey everybody.  Here’s the next Fuchsia Fox adventure by Centurion.  Note, there is one scene involving a couple of druggies that Centurion allowed me, after much urging and debating, to edit all by myself.  It pushes the boundary of how far Centurion is willing to go, but in the end I convinced him that it makes sense, given the “mind manipulations” that were going on.  Anyway, if you are surprised by that part (without me meaning to hint about spoilers) or if it seems a bit far out of the character of Centurion’s writing, do blame me for that one.  🙂

Anyway, any and all of your feedback is, as always, welcome and encouraged!  We hope you enjoy this instalment in the ever ongoing adventures of the Fuchsia Fox!


Fuchsia Fox: “Mind Games”
by Centurion

Chapter 1 —

It was a warm 87 degrees Fahrenheit in Washington D.C., the sky blue but a bit hazy. Outside the new Museum of African-American History on the National Mall, the tourists waiting to gain entrance were perspiring even underneath the shaded overhang of the building.

A visitor from Arizona raised his eyes to the sky and gaped in astonishment. “Oh my God! Look at that girl! That can’t be… uh, what’s her name… can it?”

The woman standing next to him in line was a local. “Who else could it be, in that outfit?” she said proudly. “That’s the Fuchsia Fox, all right.”

A beautiful young woman was gliding past almost directly overhead, about a hundred feet in the air so that to most people she passed unnoticed. Her sleek, supermodel-worthy body was dressed in a clingy reddish purple halter top, showing off a splendidly sensual set of abs above her matching 14-inch miniskirt. Her slender arms, thrown out to either side like the wings of an angel, were sheathed in elbow length gloves, and her elegant bare legs ended in ankle boots. Dark brunette hair danced around her exquisite shoulders, and across the nubile swell of her bust (which unfortunately the onlookers couldn’t quite make out at that distance) was a chest emblem in the shape of a fox’s head.

“Oh man; they’ll never believe this back home!” gushed the tourist from the Arizona, hurriedly snapping pictures with his camera as the superheroine passed the spires of the Castle and was lost to view. “I mean, you see her pictures on the web and she looks too sexy and delicious to be real. You think she’s got to be a model or something; it’s got to be some kind of publicity stunt. To actually SEE her in the flesh, really FLYING…”

“Yeah I know,” said the local wistfully. “Every man wants her; every woman wants to BE her…”

A tour-mobile bus had just pulled up at the curb. But there was something odd about this one. The windows were blacked out, so that it wasn’t possible to see how many passengers were on board. The doors flopped open and seven men poured out, wearing black wool shirts over desert khaki trousers and combat boots. Around each of their heads was wrapped a thick black cloth that covered everything but their eyes, the end draped down their backs.

“Hail ORCUS! Death to the West!” the seven men shouted, opening fire in the air above the crowd with AK-47 machine guns!

The tourists screamed. Some ran for cover or just threw themselves to the sidewalk. Fortunately, the first volley of bullets had gone high due to the terrorists’ desire to initially just cause panic. Then they raised their guns to firing position and took more careful aim.

The tourist from Arizona was frozen with fear. Amid the deafening clatter of the guns, he saw one of the terrorists take aim directly at him and squeeze the trigger…

Suddenly a vision in fuchsia spandex passed in front of him; the tourist glimpsed luxurious brunette hair, lithesome arms and legs, a sassy little miniskirt and a cute, rounded derriere. The Fox had swooped down at the last possible second, boldly interposing herself and allowing the bullets to seemingly ricochet off her own gorgeous chest! Two quick punches disarmed the thug and knocked him senseless, and then the stunning superlady executed a graceful somersault to tackle the second nearest terrorist, slamming him into the concrete before he knew what hit him.

The remaining five, spread out in a rough semi-circle, abandoned their attack on the crowd and took aim at the brightly-clad Fuchsia Fox, who backed against a tall, steel light pole. As the terrorists opened fire, the spunky superbabe turned and yanked the pole right out of the ground. Spinning on her heel, the Fox swung the pole in an arc like a twenty-foot long baseball bat, nailing all five of the terrorists in turn. WHOP-WHOP-WHOP-WHOP-WHOP!

“H-hail… URCUS!” the leader of them groaned, clutching his chest as he staggered to his feet and dove back into the tour-mobile. Throwing the vehicle into gear, he tried to make his escape by running down the crowd.

“Not so fast, sparky,” the Fox said, as with a swish of her miniskirt, the superheroine launched her slim, sexy body forward and plowed into the front of the bus, stopping it cold!

Suddenly there was an explosion of some kind from the roof of the vehicle. Amid a cloud of smoke, the terrorist blasted off wearing a rocket-pack! The Fox paused for a moment as the exhaust plume streaked off toward the southeast. Dozens of people had been wounded in the attack, but no one seemed to be critically injured. Museum security guards were arresting the fallen ORCUS men and generally taking care of things. She wasn’t needed here anymore. The superheroine took off in pursuit.

The rocket pack arced over the Anacostia River toward the Suitland Parkway, finally coming down near a warehouse. The Fox was flying right behind it, smirking a little to herself at the very idea that the terrorist thought he could outdistance her. It looked like she was going to capture one of ORCUS’ headquarters into the deal.

The Fox alighted in the parking lot just as the heavy steel doors of the warehouse were rolling shut. But with two long-legged strides, the cocky young heroine caught the door and threw it back open. “Knock, knock,” she said flippantly, in an almost a cheery tone.

The interior was dimly lit. The rocket-pack was lying discarded just inside, the terrorist running away down a wide aisle between stacks of crates. The Fox followed at a quick jog until she came to an open space where several aisles converged. The heroine slowed to a graceful halt, uncertain which way he had gone. Suddenly light fixtures hanging high overhead came on.

“There you are, Handmaiden of Satan,” said a male voice. “Just in time for your funeral.” The man’s voice sounded cultured and refined, as if they were meeting at a wine-tasting or something. He was dressed in a midnight black full-body suit, with an abstract design that suggested bat wings across his broad shoulders in a contrasting shade of blue. A hooded mask covered his entire face except for a slit showing his dark, evil, kohl-rimmed eyes. Around his brow sat a headband made of some dull black metal. In his gloved hand, he carried a five-foot stainless-steel scythe with a wickedly curved blade at least a yard long!

“I do try to be punctual,” the Fox said flippantly. “Who are you, may I ask?”

Two henchmen stepped into view, one to her left and one to her right. They were dressed in standard ORCUS uniforms, although instead of guns they were carrying staff weapons. As they walked slowly toward her, they both activated their weapons, and three feet at each end lit up with glowing red laser-like energy beams! At the same time two more henchmen appeared behind her, each carrying about a seven-foot length of heavy chain, which they held swaying back and forth in both hands as they psyched themselves up for action.

“I am called the Reaper,” the villain in black said calmly, drawing the Fox’s attention back to him. “The Mind Reaper. You should feel flattered that I was asked to work your destruction.”

Having reached a point about ten feet away from her, the five men began walking in a clockwise circle around her, keeping at that same distance. “But now that I see you…” the Reaper continued, scoffing, “I am disappointed. How easily you walked into this ambush. This is hardly worthy of my time.”

“I so hate to disappoint my fans,” the Fox said coolly, planting her hands on her hips. “But a lot of people have tried to work my destruction, and I’m still here. I’m tougher than I look.”

“We shall see,” the villain said. And without any other overt signal, the four henchmen attacked.

The two with the staff weapons moved in first, those fiery laser blades spinning through the air making a humming noise. The Fox leaped nimbly from one graceful leg to the other, miniskirt swirling around her creamy thighs as she dodged the first one, slamming her fist into the thug’s abdomen and sending him flying, then spun around in attempt to block the other with her forearm. The force of the energy blade was weakened by the invisible force shield that encompassed her delectable body, but still hurt like the dickens. The Reaper, still keeping his distance, aimed his scythe and shot a glowing white energy beam at her. The stunning superheroine managed to duck, grabbing the nearest  henchman by the collar and throwing him in the way of the blast instead.

Just then she was jumped by the two henchmen behind her. The Fox felt a hard metal chain wrap around her sleek, young torso, pinning her right arm to her side as it coiled around her slender neck and pulled taut. Her left arm was still free for a moment, until the second chain snaked around it like an anaconda, pulling her off balance as its wielder yanked it behind her.

As the two men held the Fox prisoner, the two staffmen happily joined in, grabbing the struggling superheroine’s lithe body, caressing her silken skin and fondling her succulent B-cups as they bound her more tightly in the chains.

“No!” the Fox protested, her heart racing with the adrenalin rush. “Get you paws off!” Squirming in their clutches, the heroine brought up her right knee and kicked out at one of her attackers, knocking him head over heels. The second got a sexy high heeled boot squarely in the balls, which made him see stars. As the other two tightened their grips around her alluring curves, the Fox suddenly leaped upward, snapping the chain around her left arm and hurling the man holding it across the warehouse. Her slim body flipped completely over and landed behind her remaining captor, wrapping him in his own chain and tossing him aside.

ZAP!!! The bright white energy beam from the Reaper’s scythe grazed her left shoulder, barely missing her as the spunky superlady spun around.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” the villain smirked, slashing at her with his scythe.

“I couldn’t care less, creep,” the Fox retorted, ducking his attack and returning a high kick.

The Reaper retreated a pace and brought his weapon screaming down. The wickedly curved blade just missed slashing through the front of the stunning heroine’s halter top by a hair’s breadth, and just as she was gasping in relief from that close call, the blunt end of the weapon spewed a trail of thick, noxious gas, just enough to envelop her!

“Gahk!” the Fox cried, choking in the vile stuff. With all these high-tech weapons, she hadn’t expected sleep gas! And now she had half a lung full!

Her head was spinning. Dizzy and unable to defend herself, the sexy supergirl felt the blunt end of the scythe smack against her head. The Fox dropped to her knees, dazed. Male hands roamed over body as at least two men seized her slender arms.

“Hold her still!” the Reaper commanded his men. Struggling in their grip, the Fox felt him grabbing at the back of her neck, pushing her brunette hair aside. She seemed to feel him slap her there with the palm of his hand, but… God it was so hard to think!

Desperately the superheroine summoned her strength to break free of her captors’ hold. She had the satisfaction of feeling the men fall back as her fists struck out on both sides. Now she could hear sirens… police sirens! The Fox lurched to her feet, took a swing at a retreating henchman before her pretty knees felt wobbly and uncertain, dropping her face-down on the floor again…




Chapter 2 —


There were voices now. The Fuchsia Fox opened her brown eyes and found herself lying on the floor with her long legs stretched out. Two men in Homeland Security uniforms were standing nearby, ogling her defenseless body. Quickly she struggled to sit up.

About a dozen men in uniform — a couple of District police but mainly Homeland Security — were busy poking around the warehouse, searching behind crates and so on. The superheroine heard the click-clock of high heels and found herself looking up at a pair of gorgeous legs. Her eyes followed them upward to a pretty brunette-haired woman of about thirty, wearing a black skirt and blazer over a white silk blouse, with a bronze badge clipped to her belt.

“Dinsdale’s going to love this,” the woman said by way of introduction. “The Fuchsia Fox, rescued by Homeland Security! I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if you saw that headline on the news tonight.”

“Rescued?” the Fox said, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She hugged her knees. The last she could remember, she was doing a pretty good job of fighting the thugs off on her own.

“Yep,” the agent said cheerfully. “Looks like ORCUS was just about to truss you up and cart you off. Lucky we showed up when we did. They heard us coming and escaped in two dark green or black Land Rovers.” She paused, then added, “You don’t have to thank me.”

The stunning superheroine was still feeling a step or two behind. Her eyes had lit upon the chains the henchmen had been wielding, lying broken on the floor in the same spot they had been last time she saw them. Belatedly she hopped to her feet, tired of looking up on her knees like a supplicant. “Thank you,” she said, a little sheepishly.

“Don’t mention it,” the agent said, flashing a genuine smile for once. “I’m Jill Owens. I’ll try to keep this little incident out of the press release, but I can’t make any promises.”

After giving a description of the Reaper, the Fox flew off, across the city to the Arlington apartment she shared with her husband. Closing and locking the balcony door behind her, the superheroine walked through to the living room and then to the kitchen, looking for something to nibble on. She passed by the vase of roses Martin had given her for their anniversary, and for a moment she stood enjoying their sweet fragrance, remembering that night together.

Abruptly she felt a gentle tingling, electric sensation in her scalp. A surge of warmth radiated from the core of her lean young body, making her skin feel flushed with erotic arousal. Trembling a little, she returned to the bedroom, feeling in sudden need of a shower.

In the bathroom, the Fox removed her golden bracelets of Ishtar, the Zumerian artifacts which endowed her with her superpowers. Setting them on the counter, she peeled off her elbow length gloves, and then took off the rest of her costume, once again shedding her superheroine identity in favor of just plain Jennifer Traylor-Fletcher.

Turning on the shower, Jennifer stood looking at her nude reflection in the bathroom mirror. While waiting for the water to reach a pleasant temperature, her hands sought out the soft curves of her firm little breasts. The beautiful brunette felt her pulse quickening, her pink nipples growing taut under the gentle caress of her fingers. Her skin began to feel flushed and hot as her body responded. A ripple of pleasure raced down her spine, making her pussy quiver.

Quickly she stepped under the shower head, closing her eyes with rapture as she felt the hot water pour over her face, her hair, her smooth shoulders, and down the length of her naked body. Steam rushed up around her, making her body glisten, while in between her thighs a deeper, more carnal heat was building, leaving her panting.

Running her hands through her wet hair, Jennifer felt a sudden frisson of something — tension maybe? But she forgot it quickly in the intense urgency of her arousal. Once again, her hands were fondling her pliant coconuts, cupping them, kneading them, softly pinching her tender nipples. One hand wandered down in between her smooth thighs, touching her prim pubic mound as another welcome wave of lust stirred her blood. Ooooooh! Jenn couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this horny in the middle of the day.

“Mmmmmmm,” the girl moaned, as her fingers played with her labia, parting her pussy lips and rubbing at her swollen clit. A gush of longing swept through her coosh, making her wet, making her knees tremble. Ohhhhh it felt like heaven! The feel of her fingers sliding up and down along her sweet spot, stroking in and out, was driving her crazy. And yet her fingers alone weren’t enough to satisfy her craving.

Almost frantic, Jenn darted out of the shower and ran to the bathtub, snatching up her vibrator. Inside the shower again, she stroked herself with it — along her swan-like neck, against and in between her breasts, wrapping her lips around its rigid, ribbed shaft — luxuriating in its wonderfully phallic shape, making her pussy throb with anticipation. As she slid its knob deep inside her, she nearly came right away!

“Oh my goodness,” she groaned, sliding the object slowly in and out, her hips bucking, her tender breasts rubbing against the tiles of the shower stall as the hot water continued pouring down her body in a cascade. As she pumped faster and faster, Jenn could feel her orgasm gradually rising, growing, backing up inside her like a flood tide. At last her climax rushed through her like a dam bursting, making her gasp out loud with ecstasy as her warm girl cum poured down the shaft of her vibrator and around her fingers.

When Martin came home that evening, Jenn was lying naked on the bed. Hearing his key in the lock, she guiltily tossed her vibrator under the bed and snatched up her bathrobe to cover herself, just as he stepped through the door of the bedroom.

“Hey, good looking!” her husband grinned, tossing his hat on the bureau and shrugging off the coat of his army uniform. “What have you been up to today?”

Jennifer felt her cheeks redden. “Um… nothing much,” she said, clutching her bathrobe shut.

“I heard about what happened at the Museum,” he said, as he worked off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. “Another ORCUS attack? They’re getting bolder, shooting up the Mall in broad daylight. Hey, I heard that the rocket-pack was traced to a company in Kazakhstan, not that Homeland Security shares information with the D.O.D. I got it from– Angel? Are you okay?”

“Hmmm?” Jennifer had been curled up on the bed, staring at his manly body as he undressed without taking in a single word he was saying. Somewhat to her relief, the intense lust she had felt earlier seemed to have worked itself off. “I’m sorry, darling. I was just thinking about… something at work.”

Martin changed into a tee-shirt and a pair of fleece lounge pants, and the two of them spent a quiet evening at home, cooking dinner together and then settling down on the sofa. Martin had some work to do on his tablet, while Jennifer read a paperback. Her lascivious episode of the afternoon seemed to have passed.

And yet that night when they went to bed, Jennifer dreamed about her encounter with the Reaper.

“You should feel flattered that I was asked to work your destruction,” the villain said, his sultry eyes boring straight into hers. The black makeup that outlined his eyes made them stand out, accented their sinful allure. She couldn’t help noticing how hot and sexy his body was, filling out that black body suit of his…

“Are you ready to impress me, Handmaiden of Satan?” the Reaper said, peeling back his costume and letting it fall to the floor so that only his mask was left. The Fox’s eyes wandered down his flawless abs and fell upon his cock, and she almost lost her breath! His dong seemed at least eighteen inches long as he held it in his hand, stroking its shaft up and down. “Come over here,” he commanded in a tone that had no possibility of being disobeyed. “On your knees!”

Jennifer shook her head, suddenly frightened of that monstrous thing. “No! Please don’t make me…” And yet she felt powerless to disobey. Her lissome young body walked forward of its own accord, like a puppet, and knelt submissively in front of the villain, her pretty face directly in front of his bulging member.

“Yes, how easily you walk into this,” he smirked. “Weak, spineless. Helpless in my hands.”

The superheroine could feel the spongy tip of his flesh torpedo rubbing across her face and lips. She could smell the pungent aroma of his maleness, making her head swim. She could also feel her own arousal building, her nipples perking up against the front of her costume, her pussy quivering with lust. Against her wishes, her gloved hand was reaching out, taking hold of his anaconda, stroking its thick shaft, holding it to her lips. Slowly she began kissing and licking his long, stiff penis from one end to the other. Her fingers cupped his hairy balls, slowly massaging them as her lips parted and engulfed his member whole, relishing the salty taste of his pre-cum. All the while her big brown eyes were looking upward subserviently, keeping eye contact with his.

“Suck me, whore,” the Reaper said, grabbing a handful of her brunette hair. “Suck me off like the little small-chested street slut you are.”

The Fox had no choice but to obey. Far gone in lust, she kept sucking until he came, shooting a stream of hot sperm into her sweet mouth. Her pussy was aching, feeling wet and slippery with her own juices, but as much as she wanted to touch herself, both hands were required to hold onto his monster dong, pumping him as she desperately tried to drain and swallow every last drop of his jizz.

“That’s a good little whore,” he said. And only then did her own orgasm finally come, sending her over the edge.

Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself in bed, with Martin sleeping peacefully beside her!
It was a long time before she got back to sleep.




Chapter 3 —


The next day Jennifer put on in a clingy, lightweight sweater dress, green in color, the skirt about mid thigh, with a wide V neckline, showing just a hint of cleavage, and matching sling-back heels.

“That was some dream you were having last night,” Martin said, sharing the bathroom mirror as she was putting on earrings.

“Dream?” she said innocently, rubbing at an odd bump on the back of her head. “I don’t remember.” And honestly, she didn’t. She had a vague recollection of a disturbed sleep, but as for specifics …

“You were tossing and turning,” he said. “Maybe you’re just working too hard. We both need to have a night out on the town. Maybe call up your friend Dora?”

“Ha-ha!” Jennifer laughed. “Dream on, stud. Say — why don’t you fix up a double date with Oscar and whoever he’s seeing these days?”

At her job at the National Archives, it was business as usual. Jennifer had a meeting with Dana Fazio in Human Resources, ironing out some staffing problem, then had to rush downstairs to Maintenance to deal with a problem with the heating and cooling system. After lunch, she met with a millionaire named Falconi, in Restoration. He owned some papers by Thomas Jefferson that the curator, Angela Pace, had talked him into putting on temporary exhibition.

Falconi was over fifty, still vigorous and kind of attractive for an older gentleman. He dyed his hair black except for just a touch of gray around his temples. Jennifer had to show him all the plans for the exhibit she had designed, including the display cases, security, and everything.

“And see? Here is where the main piece goes, right in the middle,” Jennifer said, leaning across the table to point out a detail. With her left hip propped against the table edge, her right foot slipped out of her high heel, her pink toes wiggling with relief as her smooth foot sensually stroked the back of her calf.

Mr. Falconi leaned in close, lost his balance and collided with her. They ended up in quite intimate contact. “Oops. Sorry about that, Ms. Fletcher.”

“Quite all right, sir,” Jennifer smiled, feeling his arm around her slender waist, briefly touching her pert little butt, their faces close enough that she could smell his cologne. Their eyes met for a moment, her brown eyes looking into his… his deep, sinful orbs, lined with dark kohl…

Jennifer gasped, goosebumps jumping out on her skin. What was that? For a second she thought–

“Jennifer, why don’t you take Mr. Falconi upstairs and show him the exhibit room?” suggested Dr. Pace, snapping her out of her contemplation. “That way he can get a better idea of what we’re talking about.”

“Great idea, Dr. Pace,” the girl said, glad to do anything to shake up whatever that had been. “This way, Mr. Falconi…”

She led the way to the elevator. The two of them got in and she pushed the button for the third floor. As the lift started upward, Jennifer cut her eyes across to Mr. Falconi, who was standing at a discreet distance, looking politely at the ceiling.

Suddenly he reached out and pulled the emergency stop button. Without a word, he turned toward Jennifer, grabbing the sleeves of her sweater dress as he pushed her back against the wall of the elevator car. For some reason, it never once crossed Jenn’s mind to resist as his hand cupped her left breast through the front of her clingy dress, squeezing her little B-cup while his hot mouth kissed her neck below her ear. She only stood there trembling with her back pinned against the wall, her heart thumping, meekly letting him do whatever he wanted. After a while his other hand grabbed her hair, tugging her head back so that he could look her in the face.

“I’m going to take you now, slut,” he said, those sultry eyes burning into hers, hypnotizing her.

Jenn just nodded silently. Mr. Falconi reached down, pulling the skirt of her sweater dress up along her creamy thighs so that his hands could reach underneath it. Jenn’s knees were shaking. She had to throw her arms around his broad shoulders and hang to keep from falling down, as he grabbed the waist of her panties and yanked them down her long legs. She stepped out of them, kicking the lacy garment away as he turned her around, pushing her down on her hands and knees, spreading her thighs wide.

The skirt of her dress was above her waist by now, revealing her round butt in all its naked glory. “Ooooh!” Jennifer gasped, dropping to her elbows as she felt his thick fingers reach between her legs and stroke her hot, dripping wet pussy. Unnnn! Fingering her petals apart and touching her clit, he rubbed her sweet spot, sending her instantly into a quiet, trembling orgasm. Then he brought his hand out again, grabbing her by the waist to hold her steady as he took her from behind, plunging his cock into her opening.

“Mmmmmmm God!” the girl moaned, feeling that thick anaconda penetrate and fill her love hole. Her skin was quivering all over with lust, her heart hammering away as he mounted her like an animal, taking her, thrusting roughly forward and back like a piston. He was a total stranger, but she didn’t care. “Oh please!” she cried. “Please don’t stop! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!”

“Take it, slut,” he growled, his hands holding her waist as he shtumped away at her like a machine. “How does that feel? How does it feel?”

Jenn couldn’t answer. Her insides felt like molten fire. Her heart was beating so hard it hurt, her spine vibrating like a live wire. At last she gushed like a volcano, cumming over his hard dick, feeling his spunk running down her thighs. As he pulled out, she quickly turned around on her knees, grabbing hold of his thick shaft with her hands, wanting to taste it, wanting it in her mouth…

DING! The elevator door rolled quietly open. “Third floor, Ms. Fletcher,” said Mr. Falconi, straightening his tie as he stepped out. The door started to close again, and he politely stuck his hand in the way to hold it open. “Ms. Fletcher? Is something wrong?”

Jennifer shook her head briskly. The daydream had been so vivid, so real! She still had goosebumps; her skin felt slightly oily with perspiration. “Um… I’m sorry, sir. My mind was elsewhere.” She stepped out of the elevator and showed him the way to the exhibit hall, disturbed by the incident, but also determined not to let it interfere with her job.


Tucked away on one of the small back streets somewhere between the East Capitol Street and Pennsylvania Avenue stood a small vacant building with its own parking lot. In its time, it had been occupied by a pharmacy, a hair salon, an organic gardening center, a used book store, and a fitness center. Now it just sat empty with a “For Lease” sign on the window. But it also served as a secret safe house for the ORCUS terrorist group.

Garrick Shunnarah was not pleased. After the arrest of Chip Thornhill, the leadership of the local group had fallen to him. Although many people had joined ORCUS for religious or ideological reasons, or just out of anger and spite, to strike back at a status quo which they felt had given them the shaft all their lives, Shunnarah’s motive was simple greed. At age forty-five, he had already had four companies shot out from under him and built them up again from scratch. He felt in his bones that the control of a group of armed fanatics was a sure way to power. And he knew that profits could be made in buying and selling weapons, even if it was to your own side.

“What I don’t understand,” he fumed, sitting tensely in his chair in the conference room, “is why you didn’t chain her the hell up when you had the chance. You were hired to destroy the Fuchsia Fox, not play games! If you had brought her directly here instead of letting her go, we could have executed her by now. That move would have demoralized the entire city. Think how many more recruits that would have brought us.”

“I doubt that very much,” the Mind Reaper said, sitting back more comfortably with his mask off and drinking from a glass of wine. “How many times has she been captured? How many times has she managed to break free? No, no. It won’t do, sir. If we had brought her here, it is more likely that right about now she would be bringing your organization crashing down around your ears.”

“Then how do you intend to destroy her?”, Shunnarah fumed.

The Reaper set his wine glass on the table, reached into his belt, and withdrew a small metal disc, about the size of a half-dollar. “With this,” he said. “This is a psycho-kinetic energy absorption matrix. I placed one of these on the base of her skull, where it is even now quietly leeching off her brain wave energy and beaming it to me.” He tapped the black metal headband that sat above his brow.

Shunnarah frowned. “Are you saying you can read her mind?” he asked excitedly. “You can find out her secret identity so that we can ambush her unsuspecting? That’s–”

“No, no, no,” the Reaper said, taking another drink of wine. “I said brain wave energy. Of her thoughts, I get only the rawest of feelings or emotions. Nothing that specific.”

“Then what good is it?” the leader of ORCUS scoffed.

“My dear Mr. Shunnarah, use your imagination. Slowly but surely, I am sapping her willpower, making her weaker and me stronger. At the same time, I am able to transmit raw images and emotions of my own into her brain. My plan is to tear down, to rip apart that wholesome, squeaky-clean image of hers. I am going to turn her into a sexually obsessed nymphomaniac. Once her will is entirely broken, the Fuchsia Fox will be helpless — and ours for the taking.”

Shunnarah sneered. “Preposterous!”

“On the contrary. I am already having a marked effect on her libido. Before long she will be putty in my hands. Take it from me, Mr. Shunnarah. The Fuchsia Fox is doomed.”




Chapter 4 — One week later…


“Good grief,” said Jennifer, riding in the passenger seat of Martin’s Subaru. “Don’t tell me this is Oscar’s idea of a hot date.”

The two couples had already had dinner at a nice little place that Martin and Jenn went to often, where they had danced and gotten to know one another a little. And then Oscar had brought them here, in their separate cars, to this strip club.

“Try to keep an open mind, sweetheart,” Martin said as he parked the car. He reached over and put his hand on her smooth, stocking-clad knee. “After all, it might give us some ideas.”, he said with a wink.

“Oh, I’m fine with it,” Jennifer said, squeezing his hand against her as she leaned over to kiss him. “If this is the kind of thing you guys like, far be it from me to argue.” At least it wasn’t quite as seedy as Leighton Street. If Leighton Street was the red-light district, this was more like the caution light district. Jenn actually saw several couples going inside, which meant it couldn’t be too bad.

The reason for the couples became apparent as they got to the door and saw the garish sign that said, “Amateur Night!” Jennifer paused apprehensively with her foot on the threshold, suddenly feeling a strong sense of Deja vu. Oscar’s date — a buxom strawberry blonde named Jewel — seemed very excited and giggly as the two of them went inside without hesitation.

The guys took the girls’ coats. Jennifer was wearing a claret-red lace sheath dress with short “cold shoulder” sleeves, parting to leave the tops and sides of her shoulders seductively bare. It had a high neck, but the bodice was lacy enough to allow tantalizing amounts of skin to show through, as well as a hint of the black push-up bra she wore underneath it. She also had on black stockings.

Jewel was wearing a leopard skin print top with spaghetti straps and a short gold chain dangling between her gorgeous boobs — as if they needed anything to draw attention to them. The hem of her top overlapped a matching faux leather miniskirt.

Oscar found them a table close to the stage. It turned out the place didn’t serve wine, so Jennifer ordered a pina colada. The driving beat of the dance music playing from the sound system was like a tom-tom running up and down her spine, making her feel giddy.

Girls were already taking the stage as their drinks arrived. They were amateurs, obviously. Most of them didn’t seem to have any idea how to use the pole. They might use it to swing around a couple of times, but mostly they wiggled and gyrated, bobbing their butts and twerking while struggling to keep up with the beat of the music. They came and went, got courteous applause, but none of them were really exciting the crowd.

“Even I could do better than that,” Jennifer murmured to Martin, starting on her second pina colada.

“I KONW you could,” her husband said. “I’ve seen you do your webcam thing.”

“Shhh!” Jennifer said quickly.

“Did you say webcam?” Oscar said, overhearing, while Jennifer blushed almost as red as her dress. “You didn’t tell me you were webcam star! Come on, Jenn! Don’t hold out on us! Why don’t you give it a try? Show these losers how to do it.”

“Oh, please! Pretty please?” Jewel chimed in, grabbing Jennifer’s hand and pulling her toward the stage. With both of the guys egging them on, how could she refuse? And at the same time, something inside her was saying YES! All week long, she had been having erotic fantasies, feeling a gradually increasing stimulation of her libido. Her mother had once told her that at her age, 25, she was still barely a teen by Zumerian standards, and she had put it down to that. Sitting here at the table, the sexy beat of the music had been playing havoc with her senses. It was like an itch down inside her womb that she could only scratch by getting up and moving.

Jewel and Jennifer mounted the stage, hand in hand to help each other up the steps as the club owner announced them. The lights seemed much brighter up here. Jennifer blinked at the crowd staring at her. Then the music started. There was some kind of intro in a man’s voice, and then female voices started singing…

“Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me? Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me? Don’t cha… don’t cha…”

Jewel took Jennifer’s hand and spun her around, her slender arm snaking around her lissome waist as they both grabbed the pole and whirled their bodies around it. Jenn’s blood was seething with arousal; her skin felt hot and cold at the same time as she surrendered herself to the driving beat of the music. It was almost as if she was outside her body, watching herself perform. She felt the blonde girl caressing her butt as they spun around together, hooking their gorgeous legs around the pole, and when they came together again, Jewel kissed her on the mouth. The crowd applauded, making catcalls of approval.

“I know you like me… I know you want it… It’s plain enough to see…” Jewel undid her top, shrugging it off and tossing it across to Oscar, revealing the white strapless bra she was wearing underneath. More shouts of delight from the audience.

Not to be outdone, Jennifer reached behind her to unbutton her dress. Jewel helped her, peeling the slinky garment over her shoulders. As it fell down her legs to the stage, Jenn stepped out of it, clad only in her black push-up bra, panties and thigh high stockings. She wrapped her legs around the pole like a lover, hugging it between her pliant B-cups as she spun slowly around it.

“I know you should be on me… Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me? Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me?” Men were throwing money on the stage now. Martin was staring open-mouthed with admiration, but Jenn was hardly aware of him. The beat of the music was driving her libido into unknown heights. She could feel her bracelets of Ishtar pulsing in rhythm with the beat, feeding her energy, making her feel flushed. Her body was perspiring; her pussy was so wet, she couldn’t stand still. Jewel was standing with her thighs spread, her upper body grinding back and forth as her hands massaged her breasts for the hungry crowd, lifting them, squashing them together inside her bra. Jennifer felt a stab of jealousy at the size of the other girl’s boobs. It was unfair. How could her little coconuts possibly compete with that?

“Don’t cha… don’t cha… Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me? Don’t cha…” Almost without realizing what she was doing, Jennifer reached behind her and unsnapped her bra, stripping it off and tossing it away. The crowd howled at the sight her beautiful naked boobs, bobbing free and unashamed, her pink nipples peaking as her hands rubbed them. In the audience, Martin almost bit his tongue, feeling his trouser snake jump inside his pants.

“I know you want it… It’s plain enough to see…” Jennifer marched down the steps of the stage, her hips swaying seductively, keeping in perfect time to the beat. Men were lining the edge of the stage; she could feel their eyes on her, their hands touching her as she passed, fingers grazing her bare skin, but she paid them no attention. She was walking straight for the table, for the man sitting there watching her like a predator with those black, sinful, kohl-rimmed eyes…

“Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a slut like me…” Oscar and Martin both stood up as she arrived at their table, but Jenn went straight for Oscar, snaking her arms around his broad, manly shoulders, pressing her naked titties to his chest as she kissed him on the mouth! His arms automatically encircled her waist in pure astonishment, his hands grabbing her pert butt with nothing covering it but flimsy black lace. She raised her right leg, rubbing her alluring body against him as she tongue-kissed him, moaning with pleasure.

“Don’t cha wish your girlfriend sucked cock like me… don’t cha… don’t cha…” Then she pushed him roughly back into his seat, her hands roaming downward along his shirt, feeling his abs until she came to his belt, which she wrenched off almost in a frenzy. “Jenn? What’s going on?” Oscar gasped as she yanked his pants down, allowing his cock to pop straight up like a flagpole. “What the f–?”

Martin dropped into his own seat, his knees feeling weak and his own boner growing thick and hard as he watched his beautiful, incredibly sexy wife go down on his friend’s flesh torpedo. Jennifer was on her knees, moaning inarticulately with her sweet lips locked around his dong, her tongue caressing his knob while her hands massaged his balls.

“Oh God, Jenn!” Oscar groaned, rearing back in his chair. “Oh fuck! Oh damn!” Nobody in the club was watching Jewel anymore. Even she had stopped dancing, smiling as she watched Jennifer nosh on Oscar’s meat. All at once, Oscar’s hips tensed as he came into her mouth. She pulled her lips back, sliding them down his shaft as he spasmed again, squirting a big stream of thick, sticky jizz onto her face. The girl closed her eyes, her tongue darting out to touch him as he came again, groaning in ecstasy.

Martin almost came inside his own pants. But then he saw it — the look of horror on Jenn’s face as she suddenly came to her senses and realized what she had done. It was as though she had been sleepwalking and just woken up. Tears sprang into her brown eyes as she wrapped her arms around her chest and stumbled for the door.

Martin snatched up her coat and ran after her. He caught up to her in the parking lot, her body shivering with the cold. He wrapped her coat around her naked shoulders.

“Oh darling!” Jenn sobbed, burying her face in his shoulder. “I don’t know what happened! How could I have done that?”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he said desperately, feeling completely at a loss. His own boner was still stiff, although slowly starting to deflate. “Let’s get you home…”

“How can I face Oscar?” Jenn cried, tears streaming down her face. “I just feel so…”

“Let me worry about that.”

“Oh God my dress!” she suddenly remembered. “Could you please get for me? I’ll… I’ll fly home on my own. The air will make me feel better.”

“Are you sure?” he said skeptically. “You don’t seem like you’re in any shape…”

“I’ll be okay. Please? I need to be alone.”

“Okay then,” Martin said reluctantly. “Go straight home! I’ll see you soon. I’ll tell them you have a headache.” He waited while she stepped into the alley behind the club. There was the barest flash of light as she transformed, instantly changing into her Fuchsia Fox costume — halter top, miniskirt, elbow length gloves and ankle boots. Then, giving him a wan smile, she took off and was soon lost in the night sky.




Chapter 5 —


Jennifer was right about one thing — flying always cleared her head and made her feel better. As the Fuchsia Fox, she soared over the darkened city, deliberately not thinking about what a fool she had just made of herself — just emptying her mind, letting the freedom of flight take over. She flew for a good ten minutes before she gave any thought at all to navigating home to their apartment. The strip club was in an unfamiliar part of the city, but the Fox had flown over the Washington/Arlington area at night so many times that spotting landmarks was no problem.

The superheroine was nearly home when she spotted a silver Kia hatchback on Glebe Road, going much too fast. As she watched, the car squealed through an intersection, ignoring the red lights and almost causing an accident. It looked like a couple of kids out for a joy ride. A police car flicked on its lights and siren and took up pursuit. Shaking her head, the Fox veered around to follow them.

The car evaded, gaining speed as it zig-zagged down side streets into a residential area. By now it was apparent that the two young men in the car were high on something. The one on the passenger side had a handgun, and he would sometimes fire it wildly out the window. Time to put a stop to this before someone got hurt!

Streaking on ahead, the Fox lightly touched down in the middle of the street, planting her long legs firmly apart and cocking her shapely hips. The driver tapped his brakes as soon as he saw her deliciously feminine shape in his headlights. Much good it would do him, the heroine smirked…

WHUMP! The Fox’s alluring legs got swept out from under her as the car kept going. Her slender form went tumbling over the hood and the roof and smacked into the street, with only her force shield keeping her from being seriously injured!

What had happened? She had stopped TANKS in their tracks before for goodness sakes! Now she was being run over by a Hybrid?

The car had skidded into a tree trunk. The two hoodlums got out and came back to check on her. “Whafuck?” said the guy with the gun, his voice a little slurred. “What’d we hit?”

“I dunno but it sure looked nice,” said the other, grabbing his crotch. They both looked high on ice or something.

The Fox was still sprawled on the street, feeling dazed. Carefully she got to her feet. “Okay, boys. Joy ride’s over. Why don’t you settle down?”

“That’s the Fu-fu-fucker’s Fox, man!” blurted the first guy, waving his gun vaguely as if he had forgotten he was carrying it.

“Shit all! Let’s bang her ass, Cass!” the second one suggested.

“Now wait just a second…”, the Fox protested, finding it unexpectedly difficult to rally as the two young men grabbed her on either side by the arms before she could do anything, lifting her high heels clear off the pavement and shoving her back against another car that was parked at the curb.

“Come on, give us some sugar, babe,” one muttered, putting his mouth on her bare shoulders and neck, fondling her nubile young breasts through the thin fabric of her costume while the other had his hand underneath her skirt and in between her creamy thighs, groping at her moistening snatch.

“N-no… please … don’t…” The stunning superheroine struggled helplessly in their clutches. This shouldn’t be happening! Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to focus on her bracelets of Ishtar to draw power from them. Instead, her dazzled brain was busy with enticing images of throbbing, thrusting young cocks, hard and rigid and swollen with spunk. Her alluring body shivered at the thought, her pulse racing and her pussy quivering submissively with the desire to be filled.

“Don’t fight, babe,” said the punk on her left, setting his gun down as he reached under the Fox’s halter top and grabbed her breasts. “Not if you know what’s good for ya.”

“Nnnnnn,” the Fox moaned. Her pert little butt was rubbing up and down against the car as the two guys fondled her. The Fox’s mind wandered, she could so easily picture herself spread across the hood of this car, her panties gone, her gorgeous gams parted invitingly, letting them have their way with her…

It was such an exciting, enticing image that the superheroine was not surprised to feel herself suddenly hoisted onto the hood of the car for real!  Hands were touching the smooth, silken skin of her bare knees, sliding upward along her moist inner thighs and underneath her miniskirt. The hand that was fondling her breast pulled up on her halter top, exposing both her tits as his hot mouth engulfed her left nipple whole. Oh Godddddd! Despite her sensibilities, it was as if something in her mind was telling her to let it happen, that it felt so amazing.  It did feel amazing!

Meanwhile the fingers underneath her skirt had hooked over the waistband of her panties, hurriedly tugging them down her thighs, but stopping just above her knees, as the hand reversed course, sliding back up the smooth, moist skin of her inner thighs, finding her soaking wet slit.

Feeling foreign fingers at the entrance of her womanhood, at first, the Fox felt revulsion, wondering in a haze, ‘What is wrong with me? How could I possibly be getting aroused in being groped by a couple of low-life druggies like this?’ 

Before she could further contemplate what she was letting happen to her, though, it was as if there were a little voice in her mind overriding her rational thoughts, telling her to abandon all resistance and just go with the amazing physical arousals she was experiencing … and just like that, the Fox’s resistance again evaporated.

First one finger drove inside of her and back, then a second joined the first, easily sliding their way back inside of her. Jenn’s head was spinning, as she couldn’t believe how close to orgasm the pumping fingers were already making her feel. Oh God, Mmmm, the wonderful feel of the guy’s thumb now sliding against her super sensitive love nub, as his other fingers were moving back and forth inside of her… The druggies couldn’t help but notice the restrained superheroine’s breathless pants increasing in speed.

The Fox was approaching a crescendo, thinking to herself, ‘Oh Godddd, so close, I’m almost there…’

Then the sound of the approaching police sirens snapped her out of her dazed bliss. Suddenly she seemed to see herself in a news headline — The Fuchsia Fox lets herself be taken by a couple of common drug-heads! Her cheeks reddened with humiliation at the very idea. “Ba, bad news, boys!” she said, unfortunately, with a still unsteady voice.

The police sirens were growing even louder, causing the Fox a stronger feeling of urgency, if not panic.  With much determination, the Fox fought through the foreign feelings of submission polluting her mind, focussing to summon the power from her bracelets to enhance her strength. All at once, but still with more effort than it should have taken her, the superheroine managed to shove the two men off of her.  Quickly pulling her halter top down and her panties up, while moving off the car she had a moment earlier been pinned on her back upon, the Fox arose to her feet, grabbing both of the hoodlums by their collars and menacingly lifting them off the ground.

“Stuff it, Fox!” one of the hoods defiantly said, fighting to break out of her grip.  At almost the same time, a fist from the other hood came around, hitting the Fox square in the jaw.  Despite her having her force shield activated, the blow partially staggered the still unsteady superheroine, causing her to drop them both back down.

Shaking off the unexpected pain from the blow, the heroine warned, “You shouldn’t have done that!”

Just as the two druggies thought they might be able to still escape scot-free, the Fox spun around, driving her fist upward into the diaphragm of the one that had struck her, while at the same time sending a lateral kick into the other’s solar plexus.

The druggies were both still on the ground gasping for breath when two police cars pulled up. “Thanks a lot, Fox,” the officer said. “These lowlifes have caused a lot of trouble tonight.”

“It’s my pleasure, officer,” the superheroine said, watching over them as the hoodlums were handcuffed and secured.

She waited until the police were on their way before she tried to fly. Sure enough, she had difficulties getting aloft. The first time, the Fox went splat on the street again. The second time she made it into the air, but it was ten minutes before she could rise higher than treetop level.

By the time the Fox got to her apartment building, she wasn’t sure she was going to make it at all. Ascending to the sixth floor, her flying powers abruptly failed her. With a squawk of dismay, the superheroine desperately lunged for the balcony railing, catching it by the skin of her teeth.

“Angel? What’s the matter?” asked Martin, hauling her onto the balcony. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Jennifer said as they went indoors. She paced the bedroom anxiously, running her hands through her hair, her heart still hammering like a drum. “I’m suddenly having a hard time focusing… and… and…” She bit her lower lip and went on in a rush. “Okay, I should have told you this sooner, but I’ve also been getting these really erotic thoughts for the past week. I thought it was just hormones or something. Martin, I don’t understand what’s happening to me. It all started with…”

Her head seemed to be buzzing with confusion. She put both hands on her skull as if to physically hold her thoughts steady while she tried to think. It had all started from her encounter with the Reaper and his goons. He had said that he was going to “destroy” her, and yet when he had the chance, he hadn’t even tried to chain her up. But what could he have done to her in that brief time? There hadn’t been time enough for him to brainwash her or…

Her jittery fingers abruptly touched an odd bump on the back of her head, which set off a tingling sensation in her scalp. She remembered touching that bump before… “Martin, what is this?”

Martin brushed her hair back, feeling around the base of her skull. “I don’t know. It’s… good grief!” His fingers had discovered a metal disc, about the size of a half-dollar, attached to her skull. “How long have you had this?” He tried to pluck it off.

Suddenly it felt as if a red-hot spike had been nailed through Jennifer’s head. “STOP! STOP! IT HURTS!” she screamed.

“Sorry… sorry,” Martin said, instantly letting go. He touched the object gingerly, but not daring to put any pressure on it. “What do you think it is?”

“Wait a minute. Let me think,” the heroine said. “The Reaper must have put it there.”

“I gather it’s responsible for your trouble concentrating,” Martin reasoned. “And the erotic thoughts. What can we do about it, if we can’t remove it without hurting you?”

“We find him and make HIM remove it,” Jenn said decisively. “If it’s draining something from me — I don’t know, brain energy or something — and at the same time it’s picking up transmissions from him… maybe we can track the transmission!” She let out a frustrated sigh. “But tracking brain waves? Earth technology isn’t up to that…”

“If anyone could track a transmission like that,” Martin said, “it would be the Signal Intelligence Unit at Langley. Or the NSA. They have a substation just a few blocks from here.”

“Do you think you could get me in?” Jennifer asked hopefully.

Martin frowned. “There’s a new presidential directive, because of the Russian hacking. Tracking like that has to have Homeland Security approval. I could call in a couple of favors, if you give me a day or two–”

“Martin, I don’t have a day or two!” Jenn said, distraught. “Can’t we do it tonight?”

“Angel, it would mean breaking in.”




The substation didn’t look all that impressive — just a small, two-story building, hardly more than a shack really, at the base of a tall mast that looked like a microwave tower, bristling with antennae and satellite dishes. It was all surrounded by a chain link fence topped with razor wire and a discreet little sign that said, “Government Installation — Authorized Personnel Only”.

Martin was looking at the lock on the gate. “Keypad and security card reader,” he said. “Could be acoustic sensors embedded in the grass, too. But it’s not a real secure location. If you can fly over the fence and get to the door, you should be all right.”

The Fox took a deep breath. “Kiss for luck?” she said. The two of them embraced, lips touching, silently communicating everything they needed to say to one another. Then the superheroine extended her slim arms to either side, concentrating on her bracelets of Ishtar. Gently she levitated into the air and over the fence.

The door to the building had a little square window in it. The Fox could see a narrow hallway, but no one seemed to be about, so she slipped inside. To the right of the hallway was a machinery room with a “High Voltage” sign on the door. To the left was a break room, where she could hear two people talking while they watched television, fortunately with their backs to the door. Softly, the sassy supergirl tip-toed past.

At the end of the corridor she found a narrow stairway up. At the top of the stairs was a control room full of a bewildering array of consoles and computers. Now she was getting somewhere! But as she stepped into the room, a male technician in shirtsleeves turned around in his chair. “What are you doing in here?” he demanded, standing up and approaching her.

The Fox’s hand darted out and caught his throat, choking him before he could raise any alarms. “I’m really sorry about this,” she said, spinning him around and putting a sleeper hold on his neck the way Martin had taught her. It seemed to take a long time before he sagged unconscious. She sat him back down at his chair as her brown eyes scanned the controls.

Now… first thing’s first. She had to find a long-wave receiver to isolate the signal being broadcast from her implant. Then she could…

Suddenly she heard the sound of a pistol being cocked. “Get your hands in the air,” a female voice said. “Turn around slowly.”

The Fox turned around. Agent Jill Owens! Having shed her blazer, she looked somehow more feminine and attractive in just a white, open-collar blouse and black skirt, but her attractiveness in no way detracted from the gun she was holding leveled at Jennifer’s chest emblem.

“Really, Agent Owens,” the Fox said, crossing her arms. “A handgun against me? You don’t have a chance, you know.”

“I know that,” the agent said. “I’ve seen the videos of you in action. You could hand me my head without working up a sweat, gun or no gun.” She swallowed. “But it’s my job, Fox.”

Jennifer couldn’t fault her sense of duty. But at the same time, there went any chance of bluffing her way out of this. And at any rate, the way her powers stood right now, the outcome of any fight between them was far from certain. What should she do? Fight her anyway? Or… sometimes the best defense was confessing your own vulnerability.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Jill,” the Fox said, coming to decision. “I really, really need your help.”




Chapter 6 —


It was nearly midnight. The quarter moon was high in the sky as three shadowy figures slipped through a gap in the hedge and regrouped at the corner of what appeared to be an empty building with a “For Lease” sign on its glass front. It was a small building — maybe 1,500 or 1,600 square feet. A single mercury vapor lamp stood guard, casting a blueish glow over the tiny, cracked and weed-grown parking lot.

“Hang on; let me reconnoiter a bit,” whispered Martin, and he silently vanished down the side of the building.

“I don’t know how I let you talk me into this,” Jill Owens whispered. The brunette Homeland Security agent had changed into a form-hugging black catsuit with wedge heeled boots. Around her slim, sylph-like waist was a gun-belt holding a handgun on one side, an ion blaster pistol on the other, and three or four assorted gadgets.

“I’ve been told that I can be pretty persuasive when I try to be,” the Fuchsia Fox said, crouching beside her in the dark.

“What I mean is,” Jill said, “if this really is an ORCUS installation, we’re going to need more back-up. A couple of squads at least. You should have let me call in Lt. Booker.”

“No!” the Fox said, rather forcefully. “I don’t want any male agents around me right now.” It was reasonable to assume that as she got closer to the Reaper and to the source of his transmissions, the stronger the interference with her bracelets would be. If her powers completely deserted her in a crisis, she definitely did not want Alec Booker around to witness it.

“What about him?” Jill said, referring to Martin, who was making his way back toward them.

“Him?” Jennifer said, with an amorous look in her eye. “Him I trust completely.”

“There are security cameras covering the loading dock,” Martin reported. “Let’s try the front.” He led the way up to the glass frontage of the building. Fluorescent lights were on inside, dimly lighting the obviously empty interior. You could see all the way back to the doorless opening that led to the back room warehousing area, which couldn’t be more than three or four hundred square feet.

“We must have the wrong place,” Jill whispered. “You can see there’s only about a fifteen by twenty room back there. How many terrorists could you hide in a space that small?”

“I know he’s here,” the Fox hissed. “I can feel it.”

Martin had quickly picked the lock and disarmed the burglar alarms. Easing the door open, he held it while the two women slipped inside. “I’m telling you this is the wrong place,” Jill said, standing up to full height. She began walking toward the rear of the building. “We must have–”

The agent had bumped into some kind of invisible obstruction, only about six feet from the doorway. “What the hell?” she whispered, her hands reaching out to touch an unyielding flat surface. It felt like a glass panel, but as she shifted her point of view, she could see the three-dimensional illusion of the empty store reflected in it.

Working by touch, the three of them followed the invisible wall all the way across the storefront, until they found a panel which tilted, allowing access to the hidden room beyond. Martin drew his service Colt 45 from his belt; Jill drew her ion pistol. “Better let me go first,” the Fox said, taking the lead.




The Reaper stepped out of the shower in his quarters, and as he toweled himself, he enjoyed the sight of his lean, muscular body in the mirror. The incident at the strip club had been most enjoyable. He hadn’t seen specifics of course, but from the flavor of the Fuchsia Fox’s emotions, he had been able to deduce what was going on. He had felt the beat of the music, the sensual movements of her body as she danced, the feel of her lacy feminine clothing on her body, even the kiss the other girl had given her. The Reaper had subsequently been able to manipulate her emotions, prodding her into taking off her bra and into throwing herself at the man at the table. His own body had physically responded to the blowjob as if he had been the recipient. It might almost have been his own penis which had ejaculated onto her face!

He had then relished her subsequent attempts to use her powers, her ludicrous failures at fighting the two druggies and at flying. Then, satisfied, he had taken off his headband and treated himself to a well-earned shower and self-indulgence.

It was now about an hour since then. If the Fuchsia Fox was anything like his previous victims, she had run home with her tail between her legs, to cower in bed like a frightened little girl. She should be asleep by now, perhaps entering the REM stage. Excellent! What kind of wet dreams could he make her have tonight?

The Reaper slipped on his headband, and right away he knew that something was wrong. The Fox was certainly not asleep, not with a brain wave pattern that strong. In fact, she was somewhere very close by! By God, she was actually attempting to find him! None of his other victims had ever come close! He reached over and touched an intercom button, waking his personal guard. Then he quickly began to get dressed. This was going to be interesting…




The Fox, Agent Owens, and Martin passed through a warren of rooms — a utility room, storage rooms, a conference room, a refectory, a dormitory with four sets of bunk beds, an armory with a rack of AK-47s and ammunition, and a monitor room that looked out via one-way glass through the invisible wall they had entered by. It was a good thing no one was on duty, or he would have seen them enter. A hallway led to the loading dock in back, where three black Land Rovers were parked in front of the outside doors.

In this area was a metallic cage about five or six feet across, mounted on vertical rails over a hole cut in the floor. “An elevator?” said Martin, working out the controls.

“Let’s hope it’s not a noisy one,” Jill said, as they all climbed on board.

The lift descended a good thirty feet, ending in a basement about the same size as the building above — twenty feet wide and about fifty long, with two rows of steel girders to support the fifteen foot ceiling. Scattered throughout this space were crates of supplies, racks of oxygen and propane canisters, and odd bits of equipment. Off to the left was a glassed-in section.

As the Fox and Martin started walking that way, Jill quietly detached one of the small gadgets from her belt, knelt and set it on the floor near the elevator. Then she followed them.

The Fox was beginning to worry. Where was the Reaper? She could still sense him somewhere in the vicinity. Like an itch in her mind’s eye, she kept getting flashes of those arrogant, sinful eyes of his. She got the feeling that he was mocking her, luring her into another trap.

“Heads up, Angel,” Martin said, as they reached the glassed-in section. Inside they could see microscopes, centrifuges, test tubes and other laboratory equipment, including canisters with biohazard warning stickers. It looked like a lab for working on biological weapons.

“Great,” said Jill. “I’m sorry, Fox, but I can’t wait any more. I’m calling in back-up…”

“You would find that extraordinarily difficult to do,” said the Reaper, emerging from out of a hidden door in the corner. “Unless you have an earbud capable of transmitting through solid rock.”

The villain ambled unhurriedly across the basement area, dressed in his midnight black body suit, carrying his gleaming scythe in his right hand. He had dispensed with his hooded mask this time to leave his face visible, but he was wearing the metal headband on his head. His four henchmen — two whirling those laser staff weapons, two wielding chains — moved to take up positions closing off their retreat to the elevator. On the other side of the basement, twelve more ORCUS members came out of another hidden door, armed with handguns.

“Oh boy,” said Martin almost under his breath, as he turned to keep them covered with his 45. “What do you think, Fox? It’s your call.”

“Stay loose,” the superheroine said, her brown eyes fixed on the Reaper. “W-wait for an opening.” Jill glanced across at her apprehensively, hearing the slight quaver in her voice.

In spite of her calm words, the Fox’s heart was pounding beneath her lovely chest. The Reaper had been invading her fantasies and dreams every day and every night for over a week, tempting her with his body, teasing her with his arrogant eyes. And now, like Pavlov’s dog, her body was responding on its own to the stimulus of his virile form and his haughty swagger. Seeing him in the flesh, the superheroine had a hard time thinking of anything else. She felt a light sweat break out on her silken skin, her pussy shivering with suppressed excitement.

“Well, I must say this is unexpected,” the Reaper said. “I had anticipated stringing you along for another week, and then having to hunt you down. Instead you have come to me. Very resourceful.” He shifted his scythe to his other hand and propped its butt on the floor. “Come to me, slut. Come and give yourself to your master.”

The Fox hesitated, then strode toward him, her long, silken legs swaying. Her gloved hands reached up and grabbed the front of his uniform, her blood thrilling at the contact with his hunky chest as she pulled herself up, face to face with him. Then, after a pause that seemed to go on forever, she kissed him on the mouth!

It was one of those theatrical movie kisses, hot and passionate, her lips constantly moving around his mouth as her sylph-like body writhed against his. The henchmen made lewd comments as Martin and Jill both watched in disbelief. The Reaper’s free hand slid around the Fox’s tush, sliding up under her tiny miniskirt as her left leg rose on tiptoe, her right high heel leaving the floor.

At last the kiss broke. “Very good,” the Reaper said, licking his lips. “Now get down on your knees, harlot.”

Jennifer’s lissome young body was trembling with lust. She tried to think about her bracelets of Ishtar, struggling to concentrate on them, but erotic images of his thick, throbbing penis kept getting in the way. It was a battle of wills, hers against the Reaper’s, and her will had already been weakened by a week’s worth of insidious attacks on her psyche by his implanted device.

Slowly, the Fox felt herself succumbing. Her body was sliding downward along his manly frame, her hands gliding over his chest, his sculpted abs, his waist. Then she was on her knees in a posture of feminine submission.

“Excellent!” the villain gloated, looking down into her eyes. “Now, Handmaiden of Satan, if your two young friends will be so good as to surrender their weapons, I will permit you to suck off my cock.” The Fox moaned out loud at the prospect. “After which, your decadent Western pussy will be passed around to all the other men in turn.” A murmur of approval ran through the ranks of the sixteen henchmen surrounding them.




Chapter 7 –-


The henchmen were grinning with anticipation, wanting to see the hot, sexy Fuchsia Fox go down on their leader’s pocket rocket. Plus, they were drooling over the promise that their turns would come next. Martin risked a quick glance at Agent Owens, noticing the Homeland Security agent’s trigger finger tensing on her ion pistol. “Easy,” he said. “Not yet. Give her a chance.”

The Fox was on her knees at the Reaper’s feet, her open mouth pressed against the bulge of his penis, protruding from the front of his midnight black costume. Her body was trembling with lust. She could smell the musky aroma of his sex, raw testosterone making her blood surge with longing. Erotic images of spreading her legs and getting banged by him were flooding through the implant on the back of her skull, driving her wild, stimulating her hormones and exciting her libido.

But it was all false, she told herself desperately. He was only using her. Real love was about respect — the respect that she and Martin had for one another. The Fox struggled to get hold of herself. It would be easy to just surrender, to let him have her. But if she did that, she was truly lost. It was time to chose between a pleasant fantasy and the man she was genuinely in love with, the man she trusted with her life.

“No!” the heroine said, pushing back. “I … I won’t do it!”

“What did you say?” the Reaper asked incredulously, some of the arrogance fading from his face. He switched his scythe to his right hand, cupping his left under the Fox’s chin, lifting her face to him.

“I said no,” she said, though still feeling as weak as a kitten. “What are you, deaf as well as ugly?”

“You don’t mean this, stupid girl!” the villain hissed. “I know you want me. Don’t you think I know how often you’ve dreamed about me taking you? You’re a slut; you’re weak, like all females. You cannot resist me.”

“Obviously you don’t know a lot about women, jackass!”

“If I cannot break your will,” the Reaper said, “then I will break your neck instead.” Keeping a grip on her chin with his left hand, he raised his scythe with his right…

Jill raised her free hand and tapped her earbud. “Three, two, one, blastoff!” she whispered. The little gadget she had left behind by the elevator began to beep. One… two… three… four…

BOOM! Something crashed downward through the elevator shaft, reducing the machinery to a pile of twisted wreckage and drawing every eye in that direction. Half the ORCUS thugs turned around in confusion as something that couldn’t be seen tore through their ranks, punching, disarming them, and tossing them aside. Jill and Martin opened fire on the others, dropping four or five before they could rally to begin firing back.

At that point, there was a slight shimmering in the air as the terrorists’ invisible assailant revealed itself as a woman clad in a sleek, form fitting all-black body suit with wedge heels. Her head was protected by a helmet with a visor, so that every single inch of her beautiful body was covered except for the lower half of her face.

“Hi, boys!” she said. “I’m Blackbird — National Security Agency! Consider yourselves all under arrest!”

Unfortunately for the ebony-clad superheroine, the Reaper’s personal henchmen were still in action. The nearest one flung his chain around Blackbird’s lissome waist, pinning her arms. She struggled for a moment before flipping over and breaking free with the enhanced strength granted by the limited exoskeleton built into her stealth armor. But no sooner than she did, the agent got jumped by the two staffmen, the drone of their laser staves cutting the air. She managed to fend off one with a spinning kick, but the other one slashed her in the side, penetrating her armor.

“Hey! Careful with that thing!” Blackbird quipped, retreating hastily a few paces, clutching at her left arm as the man circled her.

Jill took aim at the terrorist with her ion pistol, but before she could get off a shot, she was attacked by the second chain wielder. The chain coiled around her wrist, yanking her off balance and snatching the weapon out of her grasp. The agent instantly went into a graceful somersault, her trim young body driving relentlessly forward as the terrorist gathered his chain and spun it toward her like a whip. Jill ducked under its deadly arc and aimed a sword-fist straight into his solar plexus, following through with an uppercut to his jaw that left him seeing stars. Another roundhouse kick dropped him; the beautiful agent snatched up his chain and went to help Blackbird.

All this time bullets were still flying as Martin shot it out with four or five goons armed with handguns who had taken cover behind some crates.

Meanwhile the Fox had thrust herself to her feet, slapping away the Reaper’s hand which had been cupped under her chin and grabbing his wrists. The villain was forced to drop his scythe as he caught her hands in turn, struggling with her. “You think you can fight me?” he sneered. “I am a man; you are only a feeble girl. You’re weak, powerless…”

He was right. Jennifer still could not connect with her bracelets of Ishtar. The images coming through the implant now were not images of eroticism; they were images of violence. He was flooding her with intimidating pictures of being beaten up, bruised and bloody, her eye swollen shut. She couldn’t handle it; the spunky superheroine struggled, but the Reaper overpowered her, pushing her frail body backward. The Fox felt her high heels scrabble uselessly at the floor as he pushed her back against one of the support girders.

“Your friends are getting beaten,” the Reaper smirked.

Martin had taken out three of his opponents, but he was now pinned down in a crossfire. Across the room, the two staffmen had Agent Owens and Blackbird back to back. Jill was using the chain like whip, but her assailant’s laser staff kept slicing sections of it off until there was little left. Blackbird was firing electro-bolts at her attacker from her right gauntlet, which he kept deflecting before they could touch him.

“It will soon be over,” the Reaper said. “But you can still save yourself. You can still surrender.” His face was above hers, his arrogant, kohl-rimmed eyes staring down at her. This time she had a face to go with them — a handsome, cultured face, with a strong chin and black, meticulously groomed hair, and around his head, that ever-present dull metal headband.

“Believe me,” the Fox said, breathing heavily, “when it comes to a jerk like you, surrender is not an option.” Abruptly she let go of his hands, snatching her arms free and giving him a right punch in the jaw, putting as much of her 110 pounds behind it as she could.

It was a pretty good punch, but not good enough. The Reaper grinned as he rubbed his jaw. “Is that seriously the best you can do?” he sneered.

“Not quite.” The Fox reached behind her and grabbed hold of the girder with both hands, bracing herself as she brought one alluring knee up into his crotch. The villain gasped in agony as the stunning superheroine lifted both flawless legs and wrapped them around his neck, her sassy little miniskirt flapping. Her smooth, silken gams tightened like an anaconda, choking off his breath as she let go of the girder, twisting and using her full weight to flip the Reaper over, head-first into the concrete floor. His headband came off on impact, landing with a tink of metal.

While the Reaper was still trying to pull himself to his hands and knees, the Fox snatched up his headband and threw it like a Frisbee straight at the staffman who was fighting Blackbird. The terrorist saw a projectile coming toward him and acted on pure reflex, slicing it out of the air with his laser staff.

AHHHH! Jennifer instantly felt the control disc detach itself from the back of her head and fall off. Free from its interference, she could feel the power of her bracelets of Ishtar flood into her. There was an explosion of light as the energy cocoon engulfed her, filling her nubile young body with power. “Oh God that feels good…” the heroine gasped, trembling with ecstasy. Now THIS was an orgasm!

The Reaper snatched up his scythe and swung the weapon at her, hoping to catch her while she was distracted. The Fox raised her force shield, her heavenly body spinning around like a dancer, her miniskirt swirling seductively around her lovely waist as she effortlessly eluded the slashing blade once, twice, three times… “Stand still, slut!” the villain hissed in frustration.

“If that’s what you want,” the Fox said with a grin. This time she actually caught the blade in her left hand, simultaneously striking out with her right fist and walloping the Reaper in the chest. In spite of the Kevlar built into his body suit, he went flying backward to slam against the basement wall, where he collapsed in a heap.

Just then Blackbird managed to wing her distracted opponent with her electro-bolt. The terrorist went down, flinging away his laser staff, unfortunately right into the rack of propane tanks. FOOM! The explosion took out the biological laboratory next door, flames spreading rapidly toward the other crates of the supplies. The remaining ORCUS lackeys panicked and fled.

The Fox saw the Reaper beat a retreat through one of those hidden doors, but the flames were spreading fast and there was no time to chase after him. The oxygen tanks were beginning to blow one by one as the heroine flew across the room and grabbed Martin. “Hold your breath, darling; we’re getting out of here,” she said, holding onto him tight. “BECCA!” she called. “LET’S GO!”

“I hear you!” Blackbird called back. Cradling her injured arm against her, she wrapped her good arm around Jill’s waist. The Homeland Security agent held onto her slender shoulders as her boot jets kicked in, carrying them both up the elevator shaft. The Fox and Martin were right behind them.

The fire department responded quickly, but there wasn’t much they could do as the heat reached the stored ammunition. The ORCUS thugs fled from the burning building like rats, straight into the arms of the back-up unit Jill had called in. Most of them had injuries of one kind or another, but all sixteen of them were accounted for.

“Haven’t seen the Reaper yet,” Agent Owens said. “There could be another exit we don’t know about.” Her pretty face was smudged with soot and perspiration, the right sleeve of her catsuit was ripped almost off, and unbeknownst to her the zipper was about halfway down her front, inadvertently giving Martin a wonderful view of the lovely valley in between her breasts.

“Hopefully he’s learned his lesson,” Blackbird said, her left arm in a hastily-improvised sling. “…Not to mess around with the Fuchsia Fox.”

“Or the Fuchsia Fox’s friends,” Jennifer quickly corrected. “Thanks a lot, you guys. You saved my life; I mean it.”

“Speaking of saving your life,” Jill said, noticing the arrival of a certain unmarked sedan, “you and your boyfriend better make yourselves scarce, Fox. That’s Dinsdale. I’m going to have enough trouble explaining this to him without you being here.”

“What’s to explain?” said Blackbird. “You shut down an ORCUS safe house.”

“Yeah, but I did it by allowing the Fuchsia Fox unauthorized access to a classified SIGINT substation,” Jill said. “I’ll be lucky if I don’t end up serving drinks on Air Force One, wearing one of those cute little miniskirts.”

“Thanks again,” the Fox said, then turned to Martin. “You ready to go, Captain?”

“Any time you are,” he replied, sidling up behind her and clenching his arms securely around her svelte waist. As she rose with him gently into sky, he took the opportunity to whisper in her ear: “I can’t even guess what that creep put you through, Angel. I suppose you’re all sexed out?”

“Wait until I get you home,” she whispered back, “and you can find out.”

THE END>>>>>>>
By Centurion

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