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Doctor's Orders
🕑 Added 2025-09-13 20:49:58 +0000 UTCWritten by HikerAngel
Commissioned by AM
Jacob’s mind was whirling as he tried to keep his vision steady atop the high-rise balcony. The lights of the city that never slept swirled into a navy and dandelion haze, his heavy eyelids threatening to add an oppressive amount of black to the mix. If that happened, if he allowed himself to give into what his body was screaming at him, she’d win.
Her haunting laugh echoed in his mind as he swayed in and out of consciousness. He didn’t know the full extent of what she was capable of, but he knew enough that if he fell asleep, he’d be trapped in a dream where he’d be unable to resist her beck and call. She certainly got the most out of that psychotherapy degree of hers.
His memories were fading, as they all dared to disagree with her. Jacob had wondered why she had been clicking her tongue to a rhythm at their meeting earlier that morning, calling his attention to her pitch black lipstick every single time. As his eyes became heavier with every click in his mind, he now understood her motive. The call of her darkness was intoxicating, calling to the perfect smoothness of her lips, his mind getting lost in them until it was no longer his.
Matching the tempo of her clicking lips was a cylindrical device latched to his cock like a leech, pumping his penis at the perfect sweet spot so that he wouldn’t cum, but was constantly on the verge, begging for it. His arms and legs struggled against the rope restraints of the chair he was tied to like jolts of electricity firing through a cockroach limb. His body functionally was no longer his, and it would likely only be a matter of time before his mind succumbed as well.
But he had to resist. Jacob had too much on the line to not. If she could subliminally manipulate his mind to sign that horrifying contract in front of hundreds of his constituents, every part of his company would be slowly dissolved or assimilated until only her ever-growing empire remained. He had been pulled into the doctor’s sweet words until he was wrapped around her finger, and now he was trying to break free after double-knotting the restraints himself.
Desperate to remain sapient for as long as possible, he bit down on his lip until he drew blood, the salty thickness pooling in his parched throat. While he didn’t want to choke to death, it was starting to seem more and more preferable to selling his soul to the she-devil.
“Hmm, I must admit, you’re lasting a lot longer than I thought, Mr. Barnes. You’ve got quite a strong constitution, but one that’s been fun to slowly break all the same,” came the woman of his ire and desire. Doctor Blanca Nera stepped into Jacob’s line of sight, looking straight out of the Matrix with her shiny black trench coat, the sound of straining latex cursing his ears as she bent down to meet his eyes with her own. Nearing her mid fifties, her face was chiseled with many wrinkles, a few streaks of gray tearing through her raven hair; her best years of beauty behind her, and yet her methods of ensnarement had only aged like fine wine. She was a master of her craft—not even Jacob’s trained resistance to her psychological warfare could save him from what she was about to do next.
He looked to his right to see his naked and bound wife, standing at the edge of the balcony atop a step stool without a thought behind her eyes. Just one step forward and she’d surely plummet over the edge. She had long given in to Blanca’s control, just another pawn for the doctor to play in her eternal chess game. Immediately, his heart raced. She… she wouldn’t… would she?
“S-stop… stop this…” he pleaded uselessly. “You already have… so much. The entire pharma industry… in your pocket. What more… could you take?”
She put a shiny black finger in his mouth, silencing him instantly. When she pulled “Oh, Mr. Barnes. You’re a businessperson too, correct? Then surely you must understand there is always more for me to take…” She looked at his wife, a surreptitious smile spreading from cheek to cheek. “And, conversely, there is always more for you to lose.”
The first word out of his wife’s mouth since their less-than-ideal reunion fifty stories above street level was a lewd moan as Dr. Nera groped Mrs. Barnes’ breast. She then designated her opposite hand to gently teasing the wife’s netherregions, making the skinny blonde’s knees tremble like palm trees in a hurricane.
Dr. Nera giggled. “Oh, do be careful, dear. It’s quite a fall down to the street. You might accidentally splatter on your husband’s Lamborghini. Here, let me give you something to calm your nerves.”
She flipped open a side of her trench coat like a shady saleswoman, tracing a finger along a vast array of vials as if she were pursuing a grocery store aisle. After a brief moment of deliberation, she retrieved one no larger than her thumb and assembled a syringe to retrieve the sky blue contents from within. Holding the needle up to the light, Blanca took the necessary precautions to ensure that the dose would be administered exactly to her specifications, flicking the chassis twice to remove any possible air pockets.
“Now, you might feel a slight pinch, but I know of a way to mitigate the pain, dear.”
She brought Mrs. Barnes into a long, passionate kiss as she injected the blonde with the serum, waiting until long after she had pulled out the needle before breaking the kiss. A bridge of spit between the two women’s plush lips became a small waterfall from the blonde as she drooled from the pleasure, effectively braindead as she awaited the doctor’s orders.
Dr. Nera then clinically discarded the syringe and adjusted her coat before she continued, untying the rope around the blonde’s ankles.
“Alright, cutie, it’s been fun. Say goodbye to your husband, you know as well as I do that he should’ve signed the deal when he had the chance. This all could’ve been avoided.”
Mrs. Barnes did as she was told, taking one last look at her husband with a tearful smile, as if knowing that she had to do as she was told and that her fate was inevitable. Jacob struggled against his restraints like a caged animal as he cried out to his wife not to do it, screaming out to a populace who couldn’t hear him and a God who didn’t care. She placed a bare foot up on the glass railing, pushing off from it and walking off the edge without any hesitation.
“Oh… God… No…” Jacob said, completely defeated as his wife rocketed downwards out of sight. He looked like a deflated balloon, a deflated balloon worth millions.
Dr. Nera glanced over the railing to admire her work, only for her cat-like smile to falter slightly. Her anger remained reserved beyond that, never one to let her emotions heat past a simmer.
Down below was not another flawless display of her prowess, but instead the consequences of her failure to quell vigilante justice in the streets. Mrs. Barnes had been spared in the middle of her descent, rescued from her certain demise, as an unknown hero clad from head to toe in black caught her. He appeared to be male in stature, but proceeded to execute an ability Dr. Nera was sure neither sex was capable of. As he fell with the smaller woman in his grasp, his hand shot upwards to snag a gargoyle’s ledge, arm extending unnaturally as he did so.
Despite his apparent skill with otherworldly flexibility, he was unable to slow his descent fast enough to avoid crashing into the roof of a Taxi cab. Still, much to Blanca’s disappointment, both he and the wife continued to live, albeit injured. While it was hard to make out the features of a man who looked like a perpetual silhouette, she noticed him looking up at the balcony, prompting her to rescind her head from past the ledge.
The doctor was clever and calculated, so she knew the unknown hero hadn’t seen her face from such a distance, but she also knew that if she didn’t make her leave immediately, the hero very well could find her out. This was not good.
She hastily made her way to Jacob, who still believed that his wife was a goner. She used this bereft despair to toy with him one last time, retrieving another serum from her coat and injecting the slim needle into the side of his neck. She stared into his fluttering eyes as she did so, demanding his attention even as it threatened to veer off downwards towards her exposed, pert breasts.
“Now remember, if the police ask what you were doing here, you’re going to tell them…?” Dr. Nera asked, a sing-songy, sultry voice accompanying each sway of her perfect breasts.
Jacob didn’t answer immediately, so Blanca punished him by removing the machine that was working his cock. He whimpered like an abused puppy, but the doctor remained steadfast in her decision.
“Ah, ah, ah… naughty patients like yourself lose such luxurious privileges for failing to comply. You’ll have to use your hand to finish the job—but as you know, I won’t let you cum until you tell me what I need to hear.”
“I-I never saw you. Only my wife. However, I’ll lie and say I didn’t see my wife so the detectives will suspect that I was the one who made her fall.”
She cupped his chin. “Good boy. If I didn’t have to use you as an alibi, I’d keep you around. You were my favorite.”
Without another moment to waste, Dr. Nera raced down the stairs as fast as her high heels could take her, folding her trench coat inside-out through a complex series of zippers until not a speck of latex was visible from an outsider’s view.
She left out the back entrance to her getaway vehicle, only to notice that her driver was currently chatting up the mysterious suited man. Without even a moment’s hesitation, the doctor changed her posture completely, perfectly adopting the mannerisms of an inconspicuous pedestrian no more guilty than any member of the sparse crowd around her. Plan B was necessary.
She walked away from her designated driver, knowing that he would be perfectly suited for stalling the vigilante as the plan changed with fluidity. Making her way to the nearest—and only—taxi in sight, her plans were once again interrupted by a businessman hailing down the cab before her pedestrian pace could reach it. Of course, this wouldn’t slow her down one bit.
As soon as the taxi pulled up and the man walked to the trunk to put his luggage away, Blanca simply stepped into the passenger’s seat and softly demanded that the driver transfer her to her desired location. When the businessman understandably became furious that his ride had been taken, the doctor instructed the driver to ignore him entirely, locking the doors even with the man’s luggage now trapped in the back.
The businessman shouted expletives, threatened to call the police, and even kicked the side of the car several times, but all of his efforts were fruitless compared to Dr. Nera’s simple yet effective treatment which had the driver completely at her mercy. With a latex hand groping the growing bulge in his pants and another syringe from her harness injected into his neck, the taxi driver inhaled sharply as all earthly wants and needs beyond assisting his doctor in her travels vanished. He remained a good little slave when he took several photos of his wallet’s contents for her safekeeping once they arrived at her destination.
Her latex-laden hand was gracious enough to finish off her driver, bringing him to a swift completion on her timetable. “Remember, you don’t know who I am, but your next appointment will be soon, m’kay?”
Bits of drool escaped the cabbie’s mouth as he nodded drunkenly like a good little patient. Dr. Nera then walked out without paying, making her way back home, safe and sound.
~
Three days passed without much fanfare. Blanca was a busy woman after all, she could only dedicate so much of her time to needless speculation about who that mysterious black-clad man with otherworldly abilities was. She needed to deal with the politics of the new company merger, after all.
The case of Jacob Barnes and his wife was going cold, the doctor could infer from the way the police radios talked about it. But a welling pit of worry in her gut was warning her not about the mysterious man’s identity, but what he was capable of. His hand outstretching like a tendril—certainly that was not the extent of his powerset. Blanca found herself daydreaming about the other possibilities such malleability could offer her.
The doctor would never admit it aloud, but her attire of choice was far more than just a fashion choice. She loved latex—a clean, orderly, brilliant, elegant material as polished and bold as she was. Of course, she could only wear so much of it before she found it difficult to move, or worse, breathe, and remaining stylish and marketable was also a large part of what appealed to her so much. She felt powerful, free, frisky, and confident.
It wouldn’t be enough for her to simply uncover the secret of the black-clad individual and make him suffer, she had to find a way to harness his powers for herself once he was out of the picture.
While she hadn’t dedicated time to the man’s identity over the last three days, she had dedicated time to figuring out where he might strike next. She scoured archives both public and private, putting together a comprehensive list of possible places the man could strike next. To her surprise, her findings suggested he’d next appear at the crime she had left tonight. Several reports indicated that a strange “silhouette” had been spotted around crime scenes which involved a similar brand of vigilante justice. With any luck, he’d be at this one tonight, and she’d be ready to capitalize on it.
She had her hired three-degrees-of-separation men message her inside man on the police force and pretty soon she had live, anonymous access to the bodycam on his chest. They all played their roles perfectly, and she’d have to personally reward them when the time came. They couldn’t resist the pump or her gloves any more than Jacob could.
Once her methodical set of instructions came through, it wasn’t long before she spotted her prize. The man probably thought he was blending in with the shadows better than he actually was—something Nera could use to her advantage. Once the dominoes were set just right, he’d fall like anyone else. She called up another favor. A payment that she had needed to cash for a while. Most of her “monthly checkups” were paid with the promise of future favors, and she knew of the perfect man who was in the area.
Tony, the cab driver from last night, was in the middle of a pickup making smalltalk when he heard his phone buzz. He rather nonchalantly checked the caller ID, only to immediately focus up once he saw who it was. He had been waiting for the doctor to return his desperate calls for the last two days, but only now was she actually calling him. He knew better than to speak first once he answered, the drugs still lingering in his system making sure of that.
“Tony. Your upcoming doctor’s appointment is in five minutes. Can you make it in time? Otherwise… I might have to cancel your insurance claim. You know I do not tolerate tardiness.”
The man confirmed before he even knew what he was agreeing to. Nera rewarded his correct answer with a sultry giggle. He was instantly rock hard, but still focusing on the road. The address would take seven minutes to get to, but Google Maps was underestimating what a man under Dr. Nera’s influence could accomplish. Not even the eventual protests from his passenger could stop Tony now. He was a man on a mission for his mistress.
It was the perfect plan. Blanca ensured that Tony would drive like a maniac as he bolted down the street, sure to draw the superpowered good samaritan out of his hiding. Only he’d have a nasty surprise waiting for him once he tried to do the right thing.
The seconds ticked down. To anyone else, this was an average span of time. To Dr. Nera, the minutes droned on. She used the extra time to pleasure herself, fondling her svelte curves as she imagined how spectacular they’d look and feel in the supernatural substance that bastard vigilante was hoarding all to himself.
Pretty soon, she was recording herself, knowing that this would be good material to send to Tony, should he doubt himself for any reason. Sure, he’d never know that his “personalized” video was actually just a repurposed daydream session of Blanca’s. He’d never need to know.
Her moans increased octave by octave as she brought herself to a lovely chain of orgasms at the mere thought of being submerged in the perfect pitch-black substance. Her trembling hand picked up the phone, nearly failing to hide a grunt of feral pleasure within her composed, dominant tone.
“Crash into… the building… swerve… like a maniac…”
She managed to moan the final steps at the last moment as Tony turned a sharp corner around the street.
“The man clad in black… Get rid of him.”
That was the last word she gave on the matter, remaining on the call but saying nothing, riding the self-inflicted high. Tony didn’t hesitate for a moment once he realized that his mistress was waiting for her will to be fulfilled.
Just as planned, the vigilante leapt into action, preparing to use his marvelous powers to save the day. While he expected to slow down the taxi with his body, he didn’t expect it to be his whole body.
The high-speed vehicle slammed directly into the center of the man’s mass, the hood of the car contorting inward like a shrivelled, dried fruit. The taxi might as well’ve hit a parking bollard. Even with post-nut clarity on her side, the doctor struggled to immediately parse what had happened.
But once she realized that the man was completely unharmed, her horny imagination went wild once more. The substance protected him from cars. A car moving at 80 miles per hour, no less. No amount of body armor on the planet could cushion blows as effectively as his had—and none looked quite as viscerally appealing to Dr. Nera, either.
Tony was out cold—or dead, either one was acceptable to Blanca. His phone still worked, giving the anonymous hero a direct line to the doctor.
“So, you’re quite tough. I must admit, I’m impressed,” Nera spoke into the receiver without hesitation, watching the man’s reaction in real time through the blurry bodycam. “But don’t think this will, in any way, impact my plans. You’re more than welcome to try, though.”
Then, to Blanca’s surprise, the man actually spoke in response. It was hard to make out from the doctor’s limited visibility, but the blackness around his mouth began to rescind like a crowd dispersing on his face, revealing human lips underneath.
“You should not have spoken. It will not take me long to find you…” The man replied ominously—no louder than a whisper—clearly tired of the constant charade that Dr. Nera was taunting him with. While he said it to be threatening, Blanca however found the idea rather stimulating. She was finally going to meet the man with the most fascinating ability face to face, and she was going to make sure that he’d come without backup.
“I hope you do come by to my office, after all… it’ll let you discover the whereabouts of one Grace Heller.”
Did that name mean anything personal to him? She doubted it. But if she knew anything about noble vigilantes like him, just hearing the name of anyone he couldn’t ensure the fate of would kick his ass into gear.
“Who is that? What have you done with her!?” The man whispered back into the phone, a sense of urgency in his voice that threatened to break his discretion.
Bingo.
“You’ll have to meet with me to find out. Alone. But a hero who’s outside the law shouldn’t have to worry about that, right?” Dr. Nera taunted, knowing she had him right where she wanted. Was it still an incredibly risky endeavor to reveal herself to the man to get what she needed? Most definitely. But if she didn’t find a way to study his powers, she’d rather fail. Blanca didn’t believe in destiny, not really, but this felt as if all of her efforts had led to this exact moment.
The clueless police tried to stop the vigilante, but he vanished into the commotion without a trace. It seemed as if he was a man at peak performance, maybe even more so! The doctor obviously didn’t have the exact calculations, but she suspected he’d set more than just a few records at the olympics without breaking a sweat.
She didn’t need to track his movements, as she knew exactly where he was going. The vigilante not inquiring about any address clued her in to more than he probably would’ve cared to admit. He already knew she was behind this, and likely other crimes, he probably just lacked the definitive proof to pin her to it in a way that would stick.
The doctor languidly made her way to a more private room in her abode, knowing that the hero could be watching her movements at any moment. If so—she’d be the one putting on a show for him.
She slid a unique electric key into a crack in the wood behind her office, one that appeared no different than any other lengthwise slit in the paneled tile walls. Then, an entire secret door opened upon the wall to her left. A security guard in her earpiece informed her of strange, shadowy movements from within the hallways—one of the many sights she had informed her staff to look out for, but not approach if spotted. She wouldn’t want any distractions to scare him away. She left her earpiece on the desk for that exact reason, knowing she wouldn’t need it anymore.
While her office was a striking, ebony and ivory affair—designed as a combination between a bathhouse and a hospital wing to invoke a sterile, clinical feel—what awaited them beyond the walls was anything but.
Blanca walked down an ominous cobbled stairwell, knowing that the vigilante wasn’t far behind. A wing-tipped side eye peered behind her, confirming her suspicions. He slipped out of the shadows with all the grace of a cirque du soleil performer, utilizing his impossibly noir form to effortlessly camouflage himself among them.
The man had to duck to fit underneath the vault door. Blanca didn’t realize it at first, but her black-clad adversary was tall. Significantly taller than average, seven feet of height if she had to estimate. That must’ve been another perk of the shifting abilities he possessed—ones that would soon be hers, if she played her cards right.
In no time at all, Blanca reached the end of the observable path. To the layman, it appeared as if she had cornered herself. She and her adversary both understood better.
The doctor whisked around, a confident curve to her smile. Like an optical illusion that was anything but, she watched as the man shrunk his height by a foot to better fit within the corridor, his posture and proportions adjusting effortlessly.
“Interesting, so it allows you to morph beyond the limitations of your skeletal structure,” Blanca asked, making sultry smalltalk as she traced her finger along the rim of a wine glass. The man ignored her probing queries, eager to get to the real reason he was here.
“You’ll pay for the suffering you’ve inflicted on those innocent people,” came a stern voice within the featureless miasma of his face. There was an effort to seem intimidating on his part, something that likely would have worked had it not been the stoic Dr. Nera he was facing against. “Your empire of ruin ends here.”
“Mmm, I’m afraid it’s only beginning. And you’re going to help me with it.”
Instead of allowing their banter to continue, Blanca cut to the chase, placing her first bargaining chip down on the table. Stage lights exploded with luminescence, revealing that the wall behind her was not opaque, but instead inch-thick aluminosilicate glass, also illuminating a particularly harrowing sight.
The good news was Grace Heller was indeed a real person who was still alive. The bad news—if he didn’t act fast she wouldn’t be alive for much longer. She was tied up with rope like meat on a hook, hands and legs bound to their respective limbs. A strong gust of wind would probably topple her like a domino, but wind was the least of her problems. The tiled room she resided in was gradually filling up with water from a hole in the ceiling, and the water level had already reached Grace’s chest, tickling her bare breasts.
The man understood the situation, now was the time for negotiation. He didn’t attempt to break the glass, merely standing in place even as Grace begged inaudibly on the other side of the wall. “Alright, Blanca. Ensure that she lives, and I’ll make sure you don’t die either. But know that you will be brought to justice by the end of the day. Nothing you can say will change my mind on this.”
“She will be fine. She’s merely with us today so you’ll listen to a single, solitary suggestion.”
The man said nothing, the water was reaching Grace’s shoulders.
“I promise, it’s a perfectly reasonable request,” Dr. Nera added, enticing the man further into her trap.
“Very well…” he replied apprehensively. “What do you want?”
“Nothing you can’t give me in the next three seconds if you wanted to.”
He cocked his silhouetted head to the side, confused.
“Your identity~” she said, batting fuck-me eyes in his direction.
That startled him, hopefully into arousal. She might’ve been older, but she hadn’t missed a step in seduction. Now it was time to sweeten the deal. “There’s no cameras down here. No one but me, you and Grace. If you show your face, you’ll be able to return to anonymity. That I can promise you.”
“I don’t believe you…” the vigilante replied tentatively. “That trenchcoat of yours. It’s probably got a camera on it somewhere.”
“You think so? Then let me assuage that fear of yours…” the doctor assured. She then unzipped the front of her outfit and, with a simple shimmy of her shoulders, allowed her entire trenchcoat to fall off of her, spilling into a crumpled circle around her dainty feet. She pivoted forward, performing a graceful pirouette as she did so to show that she had nothing hidden anywhere on her body. Of course, the man was also treated to a spellbinding showcase of her sumptuous assets. Her creamy ass jiggled slightly during the brief moment it was visible, adding even more exclusive allure to entice her enemy.
“See? Nothing on me. I’m completely defenseless now. What’s the harm in a little peek?”
He probably would’ve had more reservations, especially given the toll age had taken on her body, but the ticking clock behind Blanca was forcing his hand quite a bit.
Wordlessly—as he tended to prefer—the man stayed true to his promise and rescinded the full mould mask of pure noir over his head. The strange substance peeled back layer by layer until eventually the distinct color of peach skin made itself known. Perhaps the substance had changed him, but he was quite the attractive man. The retreating blackness gave way to a chiseled jawline, one with a nice amount of stubble travelling alongside it. The man had to be in his late twenties, the prime of his life, but Blanca would make sure he’d fall for her refined, ripened body all the same.
He allowed his full face to be seen for a moment, before the darkness began to encroach back to hide his identity once more.
“No, no… let me just take you in. You’re beautiful,” Dr. Nera protested.
She pivoted closer, and the man obeyed through inaction. His hazel eyes carefully followed her every movement, but he allowed her to approach nevertheless.
“I want to kiss you.” She offered, sweetening the deal further. A sultry kiss from a naked, defenseless woman… How could anyone resist?
She gently caressed his face with her hand, moaning softly as if she were electrified by his touch. She seemed totally obsessed with him. He loved that. Her hands moved lower as more of his body revealed itself.
“Oooh, going commando under the suit? How bold~” Blanca taunted, licking her lips at the tantalizing display of cobbled abs and defined pecs before her. While his face remained in a superpositional state between nervous and aroused, his crotch’s response was far less nuanced.
Her fingers were cool to the touch, further exciting his eager member. Even without her various gadgets, she was still a master of her craft—and it was more of a bonus hobby anyways. Of course, the doctor was never truly without a trick up her sleeve.
She slipped two of her other hand’s fingers into his mouth, his eyes closing as he savored the wondrous texture. Unfortunately for the man, he had neglected to notice the dime-sized pill she had been holding in between said fingers, clenched in such a way that it was invisible to the hero’s sightline. The effects were instant and potent, a droplet of drool dribbling down his chin mere seconds after it dissolved in his saliva—now it was time to put the pill’s heightened suggestibility to the test.
“Look, she’s already turning blue…” Blanca remarked, pointing towards Grace, who had been submerged fully underwater for nearly thirty seconds up to that point. “You want to be a hero, right? To save an innocent woman?”
He nodded silently, yet desperately.
Her next words were creepingly slow, as if to taunt him further, knowing he would wait patiently for each one like a lapdog. “All you have to do… is let your doctor in… let her take control of your life… let her use your power for her own means… She knows best, after all…”
Somehow, the man managed to shake his head no, though it took him much resistance to do so. He truly did possess the resilience of a hero. Of course, that was an answer that simply wouldn’t suffice. The doctor would need a more formidable treatment for such an uncooperative patient.
Her other hand rescinded from his cock, gracefully trailing up his torso until it settled upon his bare shoulder, briefly exposed from the large gash in his living supersuit. His compromised mind commanded the inky blackness to retreat, parting like the Red Sea as her perfectly-manicured finger traced a sharp line down to his hand, his skin craving every second of interaction with his doctor’s precise touch.
She locked her smaller fingers with his, bringing his hand up and resting it on her breast. Like an animal distracted by a shiny object, he found all of his attention dedicated to her bosom, unable to derail the train of thought in any meaningful way.
Without his hand to guide the sleeve mold of his suit, it fell limp and threatened to collapse into itself altogether. Dr. Nera, taking initiative, slid her hand into the reforming tube-like glove, moaning in victorious ecstasy as she did so. To fully slide her arm in up to the shoulder required her to press her entire body up against the vigilante’s own, furthering his descent into her drug-induced prison of pleasure.
Blanca wiggled her fingers curiously, noting how effortlessly it conformed to her dainty appendage. It was impossibly tactile, superior to the physical limits of latex in every way. Now that her hand was in, she never wanted it to leave. The blackness seemed to agree, hungrily latching onto her skin like a kudzu vine.
It didn’t stop there, seeping into her pores and traveling along her nervous system, as if familiarizing itself with what little it had been offered. Blanca knew better than to humanize anything that she couldn’t explain, but this strange substance had a level of sentience she couldn’t just discount. She would even go so far as to describe its behavior as… curious.
She wanted more.
No.
She needed more.
She brought her silky smooth noir hand up to the man’s face, caressing it. Even though her hand was fully enveloped in the substance, her sense of touch remained. She could feel every unique bump and contour of his face as if the glove were a symbiotic extension of her own body. Had it somehow reconfigured her nervous system? Or was it merely replicating the sensation? Blanca didn’t know, and at this point, she didn’t care. She was so close to finally getting everything she had ever wanted.
“How about an alternative cure for your little ailment, hmm?” Dr. Nera offered, rescinding her hand, leaving the man desperate to feel her silky touch again. “I’ll introduce you to a stimulant, but slowly.” She physically conveyed her metaphor by shoving two of her darkness-enhanced fingers into his mouth, causing him to gurgle and gag in ecstasy as he savored the improved flavor. Once she removed the fingers, his head desperately attempted to follow them, tongue outstretched, but his movements were slow and dull.
“Ah, ah, ah… didn’t you hear me? Slowly. Too much of a good thing can be bad, after all…”
He nodded, eyes half-lidded. He appeared to finally be following her logic wholeheartedly.
“Of course, we can always introduce variants. That way, the process of adaptation will be even further delayed…”
Her logic flawlessly flowed, and the hero couldn’t disagree. He couldn’t settle for just her bare skin pressed against his chest, he needed more in the vein of what her coated hand could offer. She proceeded to mirror her trailing hand from earlier, slowly peeling the blackness off of his other hand without even touching it. In no time at all, her left hand was now just as submerged in the pitch-dark perfection as her right had been.
A spread of her arms outward like a bird taking flight and the man’s body was dragged along by his suit like a puppet. Blanca liked that.
Her hand then reached back down to stimulate his cock, her new outfit working wonders for her rhythm and dexterity. She felt as though she could rub the man’s erection for hours without getting sore or cramped, as if her biology was simply better than most, even her own prior to the envelopment. This revelation didn’t make her feel inadequate at all, if anything, it empowered her. Long had she craved the physical power to match her mental prowess, and at this rate, she’d be the most powerful entity in the whole world.
But still, even with all this power coming to her, something felt as though it was missing. She wished she had one of her many toys, something to pump him with to a constant rhythm so she could multitask elsewhere.
Then, to her surprise, her wish was granted.
A guttural moan fired off from the man’s throat as his cock began to be pumped by the doctor’s hand without her input. Somehow, her joints were ignoring the limitations of her skeletal structure, morphing her hand into the very toy she desired. She knew her penis pump inside and out, as was the case with all of her favorite toys, and the living suit was able to replicate her pitch perfect memory into an ideal latex replacement of the device.
Now, if only she had access to a more potent sedative…
Her other hand’s sleeve, eager to grant her request like a loyal dog, began to morph the tip of her index finger. A thin, needle-like digit erected from her fingernail, the creamy blackness impossibly dexterous as it stretched an inch and a half beyond where her digit naturally ended. She could feel her skin, muscle and bones shifting further, as if the very DNA sequence in her finger was being changed to fit her specifications. She wasted no time jabbing the vigilante in the neck with her new appendage, the needle effortlessly slipping into his skin. Whatever concoction her symbiotic garb had created proved to be even more effective than her usual remedy, causing the man’s eyes to flutter in seconds.
It was official, his mind was now completely under Blanca’s control.
Dr. Nera flashed a sly smile in Grace Heller’s direction. The drowning woman’s gaze was distant and hazy. If she was still somehow alive, she wouldn’t be for much longer. No one was coming to save her now.
Like a mass of snakes, the remainder of the former hero’s suit peeled off of his body and moved to hers, coating her entire body from neck to toe in the wonderful, wonderful substance. Inch after sumptuous inch was added to her body, her heels rising like a mechanical ramp as columns formed beneath them.
To her delight, these new heels made a satisfying click, clack, as she walked away, content to leave the man experiencing the best orgasm of his life, fated to rot away in the annals of forgotten history with Grace and her old, inferior trenchcoat as a nameless stepping stone. With this new form, she wouldn’t need such primitive methods of torture to get what she wanted. Now, nothing would be able to keep this doctor away.
With every step she made up the stairs and back to her office, her body changed ever so slightly more. The suit was skin tight, hugging her curves that were still very impressive for someone halfway to a triple digit age, but she wanted more. Anyone else would’ve pegged her quest to remain young as a delusional endeavor doomed to fail, but Dr. Nera’s delusion was now reality.
Each sway of her shapely hips added more to her silhouette, as if the fat was literally melting off of her waist only to coalesce around her thighs. Sinuous, feminine musculature rounded out her limbs at a metronomic pace, leaving her with the athletic build she deserved, but one that her limited biology had denied her for too long.
On the surface, her face was the only part of her that remained exposed, but the otherworldly void had already infested every cell of her body from within—and loved its new partnership even more than the previous owner. The creases around her eyes had faded to the point where they were nonexistent. Her skin looked healthy and smooth, better than it had in decades.
Her breasts stretched the thin fabric of her new outfit as they grew to fit with more modern sensibilities. They seemed firmer, riding higher on her chest than they ever had in her life.
Her waist now looked slimmer, more toned. And her legs… gone was the cellulite she’d been fighting a losing battle with for the last few years despite her best efforts. Blanca paused once she reached the office, running her hands along the long, black surface of her lengthy legs. It was sinuous yet smooth, silky yet firm, svelte yet powerful.
Fifty years of experience, with a body that looked no older than twenty. With every passing year, she’d only grow smarter, keeping her impossibly good looks well into the future.
She laughed, revealing sharper teeth that would befit an apex predator. That idiot hero had a ticket to immortality, and he was wasting it saving lives. She greedily groped her own new and improved curves, a feeling of electricity surging down each and every vein of her evolved body. Of course, pleasuring herself was merely a distraction right now. She had work to do.
Right on cue, one of her many personal security guards burst into her office, only to stop dead in his tracks upon getting an eyeful of what his new boss had to offer. She now looked young enough to be her own daughter.
She giggled languidly as her guard’s words were caught in his throat. Usually, his routine reporting went off without a hitch, but even a man hardened by years of military service was reduced to a stuttering schoolboy as his eyes graced the feminine perfection that was Dr. Blanca Nera’s figure.
“Nothing to report then, sir?” she said with a sultry smile.
“N-mothing other than a five o’ clock with Kyle Struct, ma’am!”
Kyle Struct. That was a name she knew well. The sitting congressman of her state, and a man with considerable sway in politics. Blanca had been careful in the past when it came to government officials—they could sic the national guard on her if she was too flippant with her many appointments—but now, the government would wish they could find a way to stop her.
She was only beginning to scratch the surface of what her new outfit was capable of, but she already felt unstoppable.
“Bring him in, I love it when my patients arrive early. Punctuality is important for a doctor with such a busy schedule like myself.”
The guard did as he was told, and went off to direct her patient to the ‘exam room’ as he had done countless times before. Did the patients always leave the exam room after their allotted time? Not often. Dr. Nera had a way of running things like the Hotel California, as it were.
Congressman Kyle Struct would be a different beast entirely. He was too high profile to be killed, or affected via drug-induced influence. Blanca did her best work on the silent cogs of the machine. A media presence of Struct’s caliber would certainly raise red flags in her direction if he appeared even slightly compromised by Nera’s expanding empire.
She had effectively utilized blitzscaling during a moment of vulnerability in the market to effectively conquer the American healthcare industry. Her impeccable brand attracted venture capital like moths to a flame, allowing her to keep costs low to completely overshadow the competition. Now, she was ready to nip those pesky antitrust laws in the bud before they could blossom into a real problem for her monopolistic power grab.
She put her new suit to the test, morphing a new layer over her current skin-tight attire. Her trenchcoat was restored—with some added flair, no less—to its former glory. While she had been wearing the old latex one for over four decades, it would never see the light of day again.
Struct was instantly spellbound by the doctor as soon as he walked into her office. Much like her security guard before him, Kyle had approached with something on his mind, only to immediately forget it, lost in the thralls of Dr. Nera’s flawless beauty.
“Ah, sit down, Congressman. We have much to discuss.”
She gestured to the only other seat in the room, which was an examination table. If Kyle had been a bit more attentive, a bit more forward in his demands, he would’ve protested such an informal seating arrangement. But after being stared down by Blanca’s smoldering, cat-like gaze, he couldn’t help but obey her command to sit where he was told.
The edges of her lips curled up into a smile as she watched her latest patient struggle slightly to pull himself up onto the examination table, trying not to crumple the paper that was placed atop it. Struct was a similar age to Bianca—if anything, he was a bit younger—but five decades of life were far less kinder to him than they had been to the doctor.
“Ms. Nera—” Kyle began.
“Doctor Nera,” Blanca clarified sternly, and the congressman went stiff as a board. A mix of fear and arousal shot up his spine like a bullet, and all from a simple clarification. “Please, I didn’t spend decades on several PhDs to be referred to as merely ‘miss’, congressman.”
“M-my apologies, D-Dr. Nera. N-now, I believe you called me here to talk about—”
Once more, Struct found himself unable to speak. Without a word, the doctor’s hand had fired forwards with the impossibly scaled up grace and speed of a praying mantis. Her thumb and finger pinched his chin, forcefully thrusting his jaw open. Her noir index finger flattened and stretched out, perfectly mimicking a popsicle stick, which she then proceeded to press down onto the congressman’s tongue. Kyle gagged, his reflex very sensitive. Blanca liked that. For such a high-ranking official with real sway in society, he certainly was easy to push around.
Blanca felt invincible.
No, she was invincible.
Congressman Struct had not arrived for a physical check up, his true purpose was not even in that ballpark, but he was being dragged along like a helpless puppy all the same. She had not even asked him to say “ahhh”, and yet the steady tone was leaving his throat all the same.
“Hmm, interesting, very interesting…” Blanca muttered to herself, staring into the darkness of her patient’s gullet. She was already raring to push her abilities to their limit, her mind brimming with ideas that would be straight out of science fiction were her outfit not ripped from the pages of a comic book.
Her mind conveyed and her suit obeyed, a drop of blackness pooling at the tip of her finger before detaching off and slithering down the congressman’s throat. He gagged and attempted to grip his throat, but a steady hand from the doctor grabbing his thigh overrode any actions his brain wished to make.
“Ah, ah, ah…” Blanca taunted, sensually wagging a lengthy digit in Kyle’s face. “I know the medicine tastes bad, but it’s important. You want to feel better, right?”
Struct’s entire body shivered, attempting to make sense of the foreign object that was currently spreading into his lungs. His neck twitched, head snapping irregularly, as his brain searched for oxygen that wasn’t there.
Now let him breathe. Blanca demanded, her neurons informing her suit, which acted accordingly. Kyle was suddenly able to breathe again. The doctor allowed her upper lip to reveal a canine as she smiled, fully understanding the implications of what she now had over her latest pawn.
She took a step back, ushering a new command in her mind. Restrict his breathing.
Struct took a sharp, yet ultimately useless, breath in, his hand clutching his chest as oxygen was once again denied from filling his lungs.
The doctor took two more steps back, click, clack. She then waited a moment, then thought once more. Allow.
Even with a greater remote range between her and the blob inside of Struct, and even without being specific in her demands, he was allowed to breathe again. She needed to test this more.
Three steps back. Restrict.
Kyle was caught mid-inhale, coughing profusely as air became stuck in his throat.
Three more steps back. Allow.
His coughing became chunky as she played with him like a remote-controlled toy.
She took four steps back, the wall of her office blessed as her perfect ass brushed up against it. Even across the room, she was still able to maintain full control over Mr. Struct’s breathing. Now, with all the cards in play, she was finally ready to speak with the congressman.
“Alright Mr. Struct. Your preliminary checkup is complete. Anything you would like to say to your doctor before we begin a more rigorous regimen?”
Suddenly, Kyle felt the haze in his mind vanish, his breathing restored to full capacity. Finally allowed to speak uninterrupted, he indeed spoke his mind.
“What the hell was that!? What the hell did you just do!?”
“Oh please, congressman. Save your breath for redundant questions such as those,” Dr. Nera replied, before smiling like a Cheshire cat. Kyle suddenly found his lungs compromised for a moment, further selling him on his new reality. “You’ll need all the breath you can get, I believe.”
“Y-you’ve poisoned me! Poisoned a congressman! Do you know what this means for you!?” The man spat as soo as he got his breath back. “I was here to talk about a potential deal regarding your blatant monopolization attempts, but now, the deal’s off! I never want to—”
Kyle had been so used to getting what he wanted as a seven-term member of Congress that it took him longer than most to realize just how little power he actually had in this situation. Only once his limp body fell off of the patient table did he fully comprehend just how outclassed he was. She could’ve easily had him at her beck and call by now, a brainless drone like anyone else, but she was reveling in her impossible authority now. After everything she had done to get here, all the sacrifice and hard work, she deserved to play with her food for a moment.
“So ignorant… and you’re supposed to represent your voting bloc?” Blanca quipped languidly. “I suppose that makes sense the more I think about it…”
Blanca then paced back across the room to get a closer check on her patient—not letting Struct breathe during any of it—leaning forward curiously until her face was inches away from his. Harnessing the last of his strength, Kyle struck Blanca in the stomach with a solid, desperate, right hook. But if a taxi cab could not even penetrate the impossible perfection of her suit, all of the congressman’s efforts were in vain. Pain exploded up his arm, further exacerbated by the strain on his lungs. He might as well have struck a concrete wall. Such was what he deserved for daring such a beautiful woman.
She had broken him. Now, it was time to fix him.
She then wrapped her morphing hand around his shaft as soon as his lungs were finally granted freedom, punctuating his frenzied breathing with some of the greatest pleasure he had ever felt in his life. All the blood that was supposed to flow to his brain was distributed lower, his cock immediately erecting at the otherworldly stimulation her shapeshifting skillset now had to offer.
Every subsequent breath he took was hoarse and hollow, barely able to compensate for what his euphoric moans took from him. Her hand—which moreso resembled a pulsating mass of complex machinery above her wrist—was overwhelming Kyle’s loins. He had never taken more than a finger in his ass before, but now his prostate was being milked by a silky smooth substance that felt better than he could’ve ever imagined. He was brought to the edge again and again, only to be violently denied release when the doctor decided to sporadically pull herself away while simultaneously putting stress on his lungs.
In an instant, he was a husk of a man. No pleasure, only pain. A shaky hand reached out, desperate to reclaim a semblance of the past no matter how fruitless an endeavor. Dr. Nera took a step back, just far enough so that the congressman’s arm swiped at the air where she used to be—the air he wasn’t allowed to breathe.
As Grace Heller proved earlier, the average person could go about three minutes without air before they died. Unfortunately, Blanca would need Kyle alive for her greater plans to work, but she was willing to squeeze a bit of enjoyment out of her physicals for her own sake.
She couldn’t read Struct’s mind, but she could tell what he was thinking. Despite inching closer to death with every passing second, he couldn’t help but inch closer toward the pleasure he had been briefly granted—even as the doctor herself continued to silently step further backwards, keeping her distance like a carrot on a stick. Once he had traversed half of the room, Blanca stopped, vocalizing a concern she definitely should’ve raised earlier for Kyle’s sake.
“Please, Mr. Struct. The procedure can’t continue unless you’re sitting on the examination table.”
The slow, pathetic crawl back was nearly prematurely ended once Struct made it to the examination table. His strength had been greatly diminished, barely able to pull himself up the three feet of leather required to spare himself. Blanca simply observed from a distance like a wildlife documentarian, refusing to intervene until her arbitrary requirements were met.
This time, he was a lot less cautious about the paper atop the examination table, flailing about as he scrambled to make it. In the nick of time, he satisfied the doctor’s requirements, and was rewarded accordingly. A swell of lovely air filling his lungs was accompanied with the upper echelons of mind-boggling pleasure as both of her hands morphed into an impossibly complex miasma of working parts.
While at the outset, her wrists performed an action no more nuanced than one might exert by washing a dish—within, every inch of his sensitive flesh was pelted with erotic sensations to rival the pleasures of heaven itself.
With his mind confused and overwhelmed, it couldn’t help but associate the pavlovian pleasure of the doctor’s services with the necessity of being able to breathe. He drunkenly savored it even as Blanca rescinded her hands, nearly cumming with every exhale, adding a resonate warble to what had once come so naturally to him for over fifty years prior.
“Now, congressman Struct, you enjoy breathing, correct?” The Doctor asked.
Kyle nodded his head slowly, not wishing to waste his breath on words anymore. Every exhale of his was panged with sadness, knowing he could not spend those seconds inhaling wonderful, wonderful oxygen, to be reminded of the best pleasure he ever experienced.
“Good, so then I trust you would not want me to remove your ability to breathe going forward?”
Once more, he gave her a weak nod.
“Then, you’ll have no trouble making calls that will further both of our interests?”
“Whatever you desire, I will see to it. Just please… let me breathe…”
Now it was Blanca’s turn to nod. “That can be arranged, but do not forget who is in charge here. Make no rash movements, I will know. You will be surveilled, even when you might think you are not. Follow my every order and then more will fall. More will become my hapless pleasure slaves, ones who crave freedom but are imprisoned by their own lust for me.”
As she spoke, she thrust her hand out almost robotically, her arm morphing into a whip-like spike of latex-black goo. The parabola of its travel slowed down just perfectly enough that Blanca was able to swipe a bottle of pills from her desk on the rebound, bringing it to her other hand in less than a second, her palm instantly softening a pitch that would shatter any baseball bat.
She was already making better use of the powers that the imaginationless vigilante actually used. If she were an animal, perhaps she could see herself swing from building to building like an ape. But she was not. She’d take a car paid for by the government. They’d be paying a lot of her bills going forward, after all.
“Now, before you consume yourself with fear…” she leaned in closer, putting her black lips up to his ear. “Lust for me.”
She killed his lungs for a moment, allowing him a glimpse into the endless hell of pain he would endure without the pleasure of breathing. If he tried to kill himself, the three minutes of pain it took to do so would be excruciating.
Then she grabbed his throat, her hand dissolving into pitch black thorned vines forcing his head upwards and his mouth open as they flowed over the angular features of his skin like purposeful liquid. Finally, with everything in place, she allowed Congressmen Kyle Struct the privilege to breathe again. It didn’t matter that his head was forced upward at an uncomfortable angle—his greedy lungs began to take in large gulps of oxygen, chasing that feeling he had been denied again and again. He was so lost in the pleasure of breathing he didn’t notice the Doctor slowly tipping over the pill bottle above his head. A steady stream of tiny multicolored pellets were dispensed in his mouth, and his needy throat wasted no time swallowing whatever was given to him.
He couldn’t spit them out, and wouldn’t dare take the risk of choking. The thought of being without oxygen was horrid, a fate worse than death.
Then, Struct found his eyes drooping, mind failing to keep him awake for much longer as the smorgasbord of supplements sliding down to his stomach took effect rather quickly. But before he could completely black out, Blanca’s malleable hand slid up his head and reformed back into a hand that was already gripping a painful handful of his salt and pepper hair. Pain shot through his temple, shocking him into a half-stupor.
“Eventually, the high will fade, but the pain will remain. That will keep you in check,” the Doctor whispered into his ear. “But if you ever want a dose of happiness again, you know where to find me. Of course, I don’t give my treatments to dead traitors. So choose your path carefully, as all your peers in the House and Senate soon will too.”
Kyle Struct fell to the ground, out cold. As soon as she was sure he was fully unconscious Blanca screamed bloody murder, frightened at the sight.
The security detail who burst into the room at the first sign of danger paid no suspicion to the beautiful, frightened 20-something doctor in the corner of the room.
“What happened, ma’am?” one of the burly, suited men asked, looking Blanca’s way.
“I-I think he’s having a heart attack! He stopped breathing!”
The two men took their attention off of the Doctor to confirm her confession. All according to plan.
The security detail wouldn’t have enough time to realize that this heart attack was merely simulated via a pill, as Dr. Nera cleared the entire room in a second, her two arms splitting into four as her left hands slithered into one of the men’s ears and into his pants. Her right arms mirrored this flawlessly, and after a second and on a hunch, Blanca was now in complete control of Struct’s security detail, their minds coated in her latex goodness as she returned her pairs of hands to an unsuspecting two.
Truly, that good samaritan didn’t deserve such a lovely power, especially if he didn’t know how to utilize it. Sure, they’d act a bit robotic as she relayed orders to them, but that was expected of security like them. If anything, they might get raises. She didn’t need to waste her time with detailed checkups on rabble such as them.
They wordlessly did as she wordlessly told them, scooping up Kyle by each of the arms, walking shoulder to shoulder out of the office and down the hall. One of them then radioed in to the others via his earpiece, with the Doctor feeding his mind a perfect script.
“Emergency! Emergency! Get an EMT crew down here now! Kyle Struct just fainted, awaiting further possible details. Blanca Nera was able to keep him stable, reinstituting his breathing. Tell the city to clear the streets…”
Dr. Blanca Nera let her face betray none of her true intentions, minus a small Mona Lisa smile as the sound of the security officer’s voice trailed off. Her plan was going personally. Soon, the world’s industry would all flow from her.
