Dean Stansfield
Somebody else had fucked Victoria. He could tell that much. She acted one way when she'd gotten laid recently, another when she hadn't. Her entire mood shifted. It was absolutely ridiculous how easily girls responded to sex. Sure, sex was fun, but was it really so much fun that you have to obsess about it every second of every day? Apparently if you're a girl, you do. He could practically feel the lust radiate off girls when he passed them by. It wasn't as if he'd rather be ugly than handsome, but still... it was just tedious, more often than not.

Of course, he'd used his good looks and her high libido to his advantage with Vicky. He'd break things off with her - or she would with him - and then he'd get her crawling back with a quick show of skin, a flip of his shorts, some puckered lips, or candid selfie. It was easy.

He was pretty sure that's why she'd been so resistant to getting back together. She was getting her pussy filled with some other guy. At the moment, it was just a minor annoyance - he honestly didn't care if she went and fucked some random slut while they were broken up, but if she had some new boyfriend... that really set his jaw, just the thought of her getting together with somebody else.

Whatever else she was, she was his woman. This was a dance they were playing out, a long confusing fight over the exact terms of their relationship, and he was going to be her husband. Broken up, back together, it all meant the same thing in the end. He was hot, young, rich, and had superpowers. She was hot, young, and had superpowers. She was dating up. She should appreciate him more, especially since he was also trying to handle Amy's... well, Amyness.

That girl's peculiar and dangerous emotional cocktail seemed to have quieted down lately, at least. She barely felt anything towards him last time he'd seen her, rather than the snarl of jealousy and hate that normally accompanied their every interactions. Even her feelings towards her sister were... reduced in intensity. She was still a pervert, though. God. She was really a weirdo. Were there guys who liked the idea of girl-on-girl? There had to be, but he couldn't imagine thinking it was sexy. It was just vaguely... gross, to him.

He'd taken that enormous, Sisyphean task of handling her libido out of the goodness of his heart. Too bad that didn't result in the girl he liked actually texting him back! He'd texted her three hours ago! She was the one who wanted to talk on the phone rather than in person! It wasn't like he was mind-controlling her, it

He looked at his phone again, just in case it hadn't buzzed for some reason, flicking over to the messages. Still nothing from Vicky. He put the phone down, staring up at the ceiling. The lazy twisting of the fan sent a slow shadow across the white, and he couldn't help but think of his teammate Sophia.

It was funny, he once had a tiny bit of a crush on Sophia. She was an unbelievable cunt, though, and he had too much self respect to deal with her, so that had quickly gone away. Lately her mood had seemed to level out, and she'd been far more calm than she'd been in the past. Apparently all those jokes about her pent up libido had actually been true, if he was judging her moods correctly. He didn't envy the poor sap that she'd sunk her claws into. He'd seen enough of her to know how the guys she went out with felt about her - and the answer was always "afraid."

She didn't have that many boyfriends, at least. Who could say why? (He could say why, though probably not out loud.)

At least Missy had gotten over her crush on him. Twelve was a bit young to pop your cherry, but she was a girl so she'd probably be bragging about her first time until she was in an old folks' home. He wondered what guy had decided to go after her. Hopefully someone her own age. He didn't want to have to find out about her star-crossed relationship with a twenty-four year old math teacher with a wife and two kids or some crap like that.

He looked at his phone again. He couldn't send Vicky another text, he'd look desperate. Hmm. Maybe he could try talking to Amy? No, she'd just try to sabotage their relationship in the vain hope that Vicky was anything less than one hundred percent straight. He'd been around Vicky plenty enough to know that Amy had literally no chance, but Amy didn't have his empathy powers. Maybe Carol? The woman did always seem to be proud whenever Vicky brought him over, but going over Vicky's head like that was a line he didn't really want to cross... one of her friends from school?

Why wouldn't she just text him back?! Goddamn. He grit his teeth and turned his phone off before rolling over onto his side. Whatever. She could be the one to enjoy not getting any response when she finally did bother to send him something.

Amy Dallon
She was such a fucking pervert. Her hand was in her cunt, frigging away, her breathing a bit shallow as she stared up at the ceiling. The thick scent of Vicky filled her nostrils as she held the panties up against her face, drinking in the smell and luxuriating in the fantasy she was enjoying. She imagined her big sister, bending her over, wearing a strap-on, just going at it. Her tongue flicked out at her lips (and Vicky's panties) at the thought. In front of her, in her imagination, there was that cock... she'd seen that boy again, at Vicky's party. She considered trying to make something happen, but his bitch girlfriend was all over him almost the whole time. Why didn't guys like nice girls like her?

Well... she'd probably earned it from what she'd done to him last time. He'd just asked for her to make him more muscular, and she had gone and made all the hair below his neck fall out, and started his hair turning blonde. He'd obviously dyed it, but... he had to know what she'd done. She could make justifications about how blonde hair looked better (which probably had to do with Vicky), or having no hair below the neck was just help with maintenance, but... guys didn't like being turned into sex objects without their permission. She should count herself lucky he didn't sic his girlfriend on her or something. Why had she done something so dumb?! Maybe if she hadn't, he'd be here right now, fucking her in real life, helping her forget about her disgusting feelings for Vicky.

Fuck, fuck, why was she thinking about this right now? She should be thinking about getting her cunt and mouth plugged up by her sister and him. She was jilling off, not having an emotional moment! She closed her eyes and focused back in, imagining just getting absolutely wrecked by her sister and him. Front and back, mouth and cunt, the thought was so fucking hot it made her come six times before she finally ran out of energy.

She wasn't gay. She was straight. It was just Vicky, her feelings for her were special. Amy wanted a boyfriend, she wanted to be normal, not some freak lesbian pervert that wanted to fuck her sister. But even after the guy had used his powers to bolster her butt's size and shape, but she hadn't had any guys ask her out. She hadn't even caught anybody looking. Not even a woman! (She was not into women, but they were more visual in their sexuality so they'd be more likely to look, if they were into girls.) She didn't think he was lying, but... maybe it was just him who liked girls with big butts?

Her fingers sank into the flesh of her butt as she twisted around a bit to get a better look at it. It did seem to be getting a little smaller... unlike her body mods, which were permanent, his seemed to require maintenance. It would give her an excuse to see him again, so she wouldn't complain. Did he really like that bitch? It was hard to believe. He'd approached her all on his own, maybe it was his little cry for help? Did he want her to save him from Sophia or something? No, she was just running around in her head and imagining a guy had feelings for her when they didn't. Again.

She shook her head, took her prized pair of Vicky's panties (stolen, used, still with Vicky's scent on them after all this time), and put them back into their secret spot: under a false bottom in a locked box buried under her clothes in the bottom drawer of the dresser she never opened otherwise.

Taylor Hebert
Taylor mentally winced as the bugs monitoring Sophia and the bugs monitoring her... boyfriend (using that word to describe him felt wrong) both converged, and made their way to a janitorial closet. She was making him have sex right in the middle of school?! If she had a boyfriend like that, she'd treat him like a king.

A little flush of color came to her cheeks as she thought about her first time with him. He'd been so good... it was amazing. No, she wasn't going to get dragged off in those thoughts in the middle of school. She could control her libido. Not like Sophia. Her powers had even...

Well, getting into the specifics of what she'd observed with her bugs was probably not a good idea if she wanted to eat her lunch, but suffice it to say that the rumors about him being whored out to every girl with a pulse weren't entirely inaccurate.

She chomped down on the homemade sandwich as she angrily glared at the door of the bathroom stall. At first, she'd been upset at him, sure. It felt like she was having her heart played around with. Even if the sex was really good... it still hurt to see him do and say those things. Now, though? Having seen how Sophia treated him? She couldn't be angry. After that little show, Sophia had stopped bothering her in school. Even Emma didn't really mess with her. She wasn't popular or anything, but it was as if she'd fallen off their radars.

It wasn't hard to figure out what had happened. He'd convinced Sophia to leave her alone, but Sophia had decided that she had to get in one last good humiliating shot...

She wondered if maybe she should she call the cops on Sophia? She didn't have any evidence, though... she sighed as her head went right back around to the same old conclusions it always did. There wasn't anything she could do for him. She'd just have to watch as Sophia called him slut, forced him to work himself like a dog to get fit (his sudden growth of muscles would require a genuinely insane workout regime), made him dye his hair, whored him out to anybody she felt like, made him wear skimpier and skimpier clothes...

Her plan was... she'd become a hero, and, she'd ask the PRT to bring him with her to Arcadia. Or at least to make the offer. She wasn't sure if he'd take her up on it. He never resisted Sophia's advances at all. She could call him all the names she liked, and he barely even blushed. He must have been very scared of her.

That was all she really had as a solution, other than killing Sophia by having a zillion black widows bite her rapist cunt... but she wasn't going to do that. It would be murder. She was better than that. (And it'd come back to bite her, anyway.)

Victoria Dallon
Victoria's limbs were splayed around her body in a random array as she slept in her underwear, the blanket half-covering her, half not. Dean had texted her a couple hours ago, but she'd get back to him when she woke up. That was what texting was for. You didn't have to reply quickly.