One Morning, Three Supergirls

One: Supergirl Chao-Xing

In her Shanghai palace, Chao-Xing woke from a pleasant dream. The details had already slipped away, leaving only a vague impression of her committing acts of wholesale slaughter and destruction on a scale even she was unaccustomed to. She stretched and luxuriated in the sensation of silk sheets against her unblemished bulletproof skin. Her playmate from the previous night was fast asleep next to her, utterly spent after their many hours of frantic sex. She was a tattoo artist Chao-Xing had found in a seedy bar near the docks.

Her pussy tingled at the memory of what the young woman could do with her tongue and her nimble fingers. If only she could match the superhuman stamina of a Supergirl, then they'd probably still be fucking. She would definitely look her up for a repeat performance and she made a note to have the servants ask for her name before she left the palace.

Chao-Xing still found it odd that even though she was a Supergirl, with incredible powers that effectively made her a goddess, she still needed to sleep. She could push through and go without a night's sleep if she was engaged in an important scientific project or a really good orgy, but no more than once a week or she risked becoming groggy and unpredictable. An unpredictable Supergirl was as undesirable as a meltdown in a nuclear power station.

She took a long shower with superheated high pressure water that she knew for a fact could strip ordinary human flesh from the bone, but which merely tickled her invulnerable body. She enjoyed the sensation of the searing heat. It reminded her that it had been a while since she'd last bathed in an active volcano.

Her walk-in closet was larger than some apartments in Shanghai. One side contained multiple copies of the two black and silver costumes that marked her as a member of the feared League of Supergirls, unquestioned rulers of the world. The classic version was a long-sleeved crop top and miniskirt combo, worn with black knee-high boots and a silver cape. This was an updated version of the costume Kara Lang - the first Supergirl - had sewn by hand over three decades ago. Where Kara's original suit had needed constant repairs, the modern equivalent was constructed from a bulletproof fabric that Chao-Xing had invented called super-satin.

Her latest development was hyper-latex, a material that resembled glossy latex, but was even more indestructible than super-satin. As an alternate costume for the League, she had made a skintight black bodysuit featuring a silver 'S' emblazoned across the chest, the symbol that struck fear into the downtrodden members of humanity.

The rest of the closet was filled with the floral cheongsam minidresses Chao-Xing favored as a casual alternative to a Supergirl costume. There were times, such as when she was on the prowl for a new girl toy, when it paid to make a softer first impression, but they were still bulletproof.

She decided to wear the bodysuit. It was trivial for a Supergirl to pull the suit over her body in a fraction of a second at super-speed. A human would have found it impossible to stretch the suit in order to put it on - that required super-strength. She had confirmed through experimentation that if a human was placed inside the bodysuit, the inward pressure of the material would crush their feeble body to pulp. That same inward pressure made the suit cling to every curve of her invulnerable body like a second skin.

Chao-Xing swiftly pulled on a pair of black boots. She examined herself in the mirror and took pride in how incredible she looked. She squeezed her nipples, which were prominently showcased beneath the thin layer of hyper-latex. She had to resist the urge to rub herself through the suit. The last time she'd done that, she'd gotten a little too enthusiastic and had torn it to shreds while bringing herself to several mind-shattering orgasms, an impressive feat given that the suit could shrug off a nuke. The most powerful weapons humanity had ever devised contained less power than Chao-Xing wielded with a single finger.

She flew through the corridors of the palace to her office. Her servants had anticipated her arrival - there was a fresh pot of green tea and a selection of sweet pastries laid out on her desk. As she poured herself a cup of tea and nibbled on a pastry, she realized what had been bothering her in the back of her mind since she'd woken up.

It was too quiet. There were two dissidents in isolation cells in the basement of her palace, securely strapped into torture devices of Chao-Xing’s design. Inspired by acupuncture, the machines used special needles inserted into the victim's body to directly stimulate the central nervous system. It was pain in its purest form, never-ending and always increasing in intensity. Although the basement cells were sound-proof by human standards, she should have been able to hear their agonized screams and pleas for mercy with her super-senses.

There was no scientific purpose to the devices, just an idle curiosity on Chao-Xing's part as to how much pain a human could endure, combined with the pleasure she took in torturing those less powerful than her. The background of agonized screams that only she could hear was a bonus.

She used her x-ray vision to examine the cells, peering through solid rock and metal as if they didn't exist. Both men had died sometime during the night, their bodies no longer able to endure the pain her machines were subjecting them to. They had survived three days of constant agony, which she supposed was impressive in a small way. Once she had dissected the bodies and disposed of them with her heat vision, she would obtain another pair of specimens.

She checked the latest reports from AEGIS, the global surveillance system she and Ziana had designed to identify malcontents who foolishly expressed their opposition to the rule of the League of Supergirls. Many used the darknet which Ziana had built as a honeypot and they were identified quickly. For the rest, phone conversations, email, and internet traffic were constantly monitored for suspicious keywords by hundreds of supercomputers.

There were two juicy targets in Beijing who had posted some risque cartoons on the darknet of her and Supergirl Aiko going at it with Korea crushed between their invulnerable breasts. She could be there and back in ten minutes with fresh subjects for her experiments in pain.

Before she could start, there was a gust of wind, heralding the arrival of Isabella Torres - Chao-Xing's goddaughter and the only Supergirl who refused to join the League. Despite the best efforts of her mother and Chao-Xing, Isabella didn't see the world the same way the other Supergirls did. She wanted to help people rather than rule over them as an untouchable goddess. Isabella was - as incredible as the idea seemed - a good Supergirl.

Isabella wore black leggings, white sneakers, and a gray hoodie rather than the blue, red, and gold Supergirl costume Chao-Xing had gifted her. Clearly she didn't want to draw attention to the world's only superheroine visiting one of her evil counterparts.

"Auntie Chao-Xing," she said, "I need to talk to you. I think I need your help."

Chao-Xing poured a second cup of green tea and offered it to Isabella. She gestured for her goddaughter to take seat.

"Of course, my dear. My door is always open, but you could have called first."

"I'm sorry. I was in a panic and I don't trust the Supergirl phone."

All of the Supergirls, even Isabella, carried state of the art smartphones that had been enhanced to be almost indestructible and were heavily encrypted. Isabella was right not to trust her phone: Chao-Xing had installed a back door that allowed her to freely listen in on all of her calls.

Chao-Xing raised an eyebrow at that. "It's not like you to be paranoid."

Isabella's expression turned dark. "That was before I found out my mother and her best friend tried to brainwash me into being evil!"

Chao-Xing took a sip of tea. "Did Adrianna tell you?"

"No. Kara paid me a visit."

Chao-Xing laughed. "Kara does enjoy stirring the pot, doesn't she? There are two things you should remember about her: she lies and she doesn't know nearly as much as she thinks she does."

"So you didn’t try to brainwash me? She made up Project Psyche?”

"Not entirely, but the truth is I always knew it wouldn't work the way Kara wanted."

That was the truth, but not the whole truth. As soon as Chao-Xing had realized Isabella's nature, she had started using the brainwashing technology of Project Psyche, not as a means of turning her evil as Kara wanted, but as a way to blunt the edges of her virtue. Without the moral ambiguity she had introduced into the young woman's mind, Isabella would have died rather than accept the existence of the League of Supergirls. Chao-Xing wouldn't let that happen to her goddaughter.

"Then why did you go through with it?" asked Isabella.

"Keeping Kara happy is the politic thing to do at the moment, wouldn't you agree?"

Kara was the first Supergirl and it appeared she had abilities beyond those who had come after her. She had recently "disappeared" the troublesome members of the extremist faction - Victoria and Eden - and not even Chao-Xing knew how she had done it so effortlessly. Kara had tried to kill Isabella when her moral nature had been confirmed and only the threat of a revolt by the other Supergirls had stopped her. Chao-Xing saw it as her responsibility to protect the other Supergirls - including Isabella - from Kara’s unpredictable whims and unknown abilities.

Isabella did not appear convinced by her explanation, but was apparently willing to let it pass for now.

"I suppose so, but please no more secrets."

"No more secrets." Chao-Xing didn't hesitate. Lying was second nature to her. "So what brought you here in such a state?"

"Fuck, I don't know if I should tell you," said Isabella. "I can't tell mother. There's no telling what she'd do, but I'm not sure if I can handle this myself."

"You're a Supergirl, Isabella. There isn't much you can't handle. But if you truly think it's beyond you, I can't help unless you tell me what's wrong."

Isabella sighed, deeply. "I was helping to clear rubble and identify bodies, or at least body parts, in Costa Rica."

"Unpleasant work."

Isabella nodded. Her expression was one of somebody trying to suppress the horror of what she'd seen. Victoria's brutal assault on Central America had left millions dead at her hands and thousands more threatened by disease, lack of water, and starvation. Only Kara's intervention had saved the region from extermination.

Chao-Xing had honestly been more annoyed at Victoria's lack of imagination than her defiance of the League. Across her own domain, Chao-Xing had quietly culled the human population by twenty times the number Victoria had killed during her clumsy campaign of extermination. All it took was destroying a region's transport infrastructure, water treatment plants, hospitals, and food supplies. Then famine, disease, and dehydration would do the rest. She didn't make a big fuss about it, she didn't have a grand plan or ideology, she simply enjoyed the ability she had to hasten the deaths of the pitiful humans who lived in her domain.

Isabella continued. "When we were done for the day, a man approached me. He wanted me to join a group called Human Front. Have you heard of them?"

"I've seen references to them on the darknet. They call themselves a resistance movement, although they're little more than thieves, vandals, and racists. They're better than most at covering their tracks."

"That's how he described it: a resistance movement. He didn't go into detail, he just said that having me on board would allow them to make a difference in opposing the Supergirls. I tried to explain that I can't take on the League by myself, but he didn't accept that."

"Hmm," said Chao-Xing. "He was right. A resistance doesn't attack its enemies head-on. You would be a massive asset to them, even if you are the only Supergirl outside the League."

"I guess, but if Kara ever found out, she'd kill mom or send her away. I can't take that risk. I agreed not to actively oppose the League."

"I'm guessing he didn't take your refusal well?"

Isabella shook her head. "He threatened me."

"Threatening a Supergirl doesn't usually work out."

"He didn't threaten me directly, but he said they'd kill my dad if I didn't join their group. How did they find him? How do they know who I am?"

Chao-Xing shook her head. "Did you really think you had an airtight secret identity? How do you disguise yourself when you're not Supergirl?"

"I wear glasses…"

"Do those glasses stop you from being one of the three most beautiful women in South America? You're a 6'4" tall bombshell with emerald eyes that nobody who sees will ever forget. You don't wear a mask. You've been on television. I'm sure your neighbors and your colleagues at work know who you are. The cashier at the supermarket probably knows who you are. I doubt Human Front had to dig too hard to find your identity."

Chao-Xing laughed at the thought of a Supergirl trying to hide her identity behind a pair of fake glasses.

"It's not funny, Auntie," said Isabella. "I'm really worried they'll kill dad. I can't always be there to protect him."

"You don't need to protect Bruno's life. Have you forgotten who your mother is? Do you really think Adrianna would leave him vulnerable? He's almost as safe as you were growing up."

Isabella looked confused. "What do you mean?"

“Do you remember the time when you were 10 - you were riding your bike on the street and nearly got hit by a car?”

“Yeah, I was so scared. He missed me by inches. Turned out it was our neighbor Mr. Santos. I guess he moved away after that because I don't remember seeing him around."

Chaos-Xing laughed. “That drunk asshole didn’t move away. I snapped his neck and threw him in the Atlantic. He nearly killed you! If I hadn’t been paying attention and used my superbreath to push his car away at the last moment, he would have hit you.”

Isabella stared at her in disbelief. "Are you serious? You killed Mr. Santos? You were watching me?"

"We all took turns protecting you. We called it Project Rampart. The League identified and eliminated any potential danger within fity miles of you and there was always a Supergirl on duty to ensure you came to no harm."

Isabella slumped into her chair.

Chao-Xing smiled. "Didn't you ever think it strange that São Paulo, a city of ten million people, has virtually no crime?"

"I guess I never really thought about it."

"Because you didn't have to. We took care of it on your behalf. Have you ever heard of 'The Beast'?"

Isabella shook her head.

"He was a serial killer. Between 2005 and 2007, he abducted and murdered 17 women across Brazil. Then, he made the mistake of going to São Paulo. He lasted eight hours before he caught Michele's attention and she dealt with him."

"How did she deal with him?"

"What do you think? She snatched him off the street, tortured him until he told her everything, and then executed him."

"There was no trial?" asked Isabella. "She just acted as judge, jury, and executioner?"

"The law is whatever the League of Supergirls decides. You know that better than anyone."

"He wasn't the only one was he?"

Chao-Xing logged onto her computer and checked the records for Project Rampart.

"In total, 278,494 people were executed over 25 years to maintain the crime-free zone around you. Murderers, thieves, pickpockets, gang members, louts, drunk drivers, and so on. We got a little nitpicky towards the end as the hardened criminals got the message."

Isabella's jaw hung open. "A quarter of a million people! That's obscene. Why would you do that?"

"To protect you, sweetie. You're the only child ever born to a Supergirl. You are precious to us. And it sounds like you still need our protection. Where did you leave things with this man from Human Front?"

"I told him I'd think about it. We're supposed to meet again tomorrow."

"Where and when?"

Isabella began to cry, obviously overwhelmed at the thought of all the people who'd died to keep her safe growing up.

"I don't want to tell you. I'm afraid of what you'll do to him."

Chao-Xing cradled Isabella's chin and looked into the young woman's eyes.

"You knew exactly who you were coming to for help. Did you think I was just going to give him a stern talking-to? I'll use him to unravel his ridiculous resistance movement and then kill them all. If they're lucky, I won't involve your mother, because she would make their last moments hell on earth. I promise I'll kill them quickly and painlessly."

"Dad's in no danger. You said so yourself."

"His life is in no danger, but they could still hurt him. If they publicly outed Bruno as Adrianna's lover, he'd become a pariah. He'd have to quit his job at the university and move into Adrianna's palace."

"He'd hate that. It would drive him insane."

"They can hurt you the same way. How do you think people would treat you if they knew that you're the daughter of one of the League of Supergirls? They'd spit at you on the street while you were trying to save them."

"So Human Front can make life difficult for me and dad. Does that mean they deserve to die?"

"You know it's only a matter of time before we find them - with or without your help. They're dead already, they just don't know it. But they can ruin your life and Bruno's life before we do."

"I'm not sure…" Isabella trailed off.

Chao-Xing felt a thrilling sense of anticipation. She could tell Isabella was torn. A superheroine shouldn't even dream of trading lives for her own comfort, but Isabella was this close to handing her Human Front contact over on a silver platter, even knowing she would be signing death warrants for him and his compatriots. It was delicious to see the young woman slip away from her feeble mortal morality and towards her destiny as a true Supergirl. Although Project Psyche hadn't been powerful enough to turn Isabella evil, it had planted a seed of darkness in her soul that could, with care and cultivation, grow to consume her naive goodness.

She allowed Isabella to stew. She couldn’t push too hard. Isabella’s corruption was something the young Supergirl would have to think was her decision.

Chao-Xing didn't even need Isabella to give her the information - she or one of the other members of the League could spy on Isabella with their telescopic vision and identify her contact as soon as she met him. But she wanted Isabella to give her the man willingly. She wanted to see her goddaughter's soul darken a little more.

"You promise you won't make them suffer?" asked Isabella.

"I promise. Their deaths will be quick and painless."

Chao-Xing was looking forward to strapping the members of Human Front into her pain machines and torturing them to death, one after the other, over the course of days or weeks. The fuckers would pay: Chao-Xing hadn’t let Kara hurt Isabella and she damn sure wasn’t going to allow a rabble of inbred human malcontents mess with her goddaughter. Their deaths would be so slow and agonizing, she was getting wet thinking about it.

"We're supposed to meet at 6pm tomorrow on the outskirts of the ruins of San José in Costa Rica,” said Isabella.

"Keep the appointment. Tell him you've changed your mind and you'll join their group. Renata and I will be watching and one of us will follow him. Don't worry about a thing, Isabella. I'm going to take care of you."

"Thank you."

Chao-Xing had to fight to keep her face from showing the glee she felt at Isabella taking a step towards damnation.

Two: Supergirl Fiona

"Good morning Catsfield, and Catsfield adjacent areas. It's another beautiful fall morning in Connecticut. WCAT radio here with news, traffic, and a bit of ker-raziness to get you going. This morning we have a very special, very beautiful, and very unexpected guest in the studio. It's the titian titaness herself, Supergirl Fiona! Welcome to the morning show."

"Thank you, Matt. It's an honor for you to have me here."

"Of course, Supergirl Fiona. So your domain is the whole eastern third of the United States. What brings you to sleepy central Connecticut?"

"I'm so glad you asked, Matt. I woke up this morning in a weird, kind of cranky mood. Like I slept at the wrong angle. Has that ever happened to you?"

"All the time. It's nice to know it happens to Supergirls too!"

"I needed to find a way out of this funk. I figured that killing a whole bunch of people would do the trick. I picked a nice round number at random: 25,000. I looked up the population of towns in the tri-state area and landed on Catsfield, which is almost exactly 25,000 people. Now I'm here."

"So… You're here to…"

"Kill everyone in Catsfield, yes. I'll start with you and your colleagues in the studio and then I'll move on to the rest of the town. I figure an hour of gentle destruction and slaughter will be just the pick-me-up I need to get me through the rest of my day."

"Fuck."

"Please, Matt. Don't use that kind of language. You're on the air."

"Oh, god. Please don't do this. I'm begging you. I have a family."

"Do they live here in Catsfield?"

"Y…y…yes."

"Great. Then I'll kill them not long after I kill you. They won't even have time to miss you."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I can, because I want to, and because nobody can stop me. Oh, gross! Listeners, I want you to know that Matt just pissed his pants in absolute terror. The sound you're about to hear is me disintegrating him with my heat vision, followed by me snapping the sound engineer's neck. See you soon, people of Catsfield. Run if you like, it won't make any difference!"

Owen turned over in the massive bed and was surprised to find Fiona wasn't there beside him. Even though she only had to sleep four to six hours a night, she liked to lie in bed for a few hours before starting her day. Typically she would wake him when she wanted her first cup of coffee and he would leap out of bed to make it for her.

The french windows overlooking what had once been Central Park but was now the private grounds of Supergirl Fiona's New York palace were open. Crisp fall air blew in. A moment later, Fiona followed, dressed in the black microskirt and crop top that marked her as a member of the League of Supergirls. She was as beautiful as always and Owen felt blessed and cursed in equal measure to be consort to this red-headed goddess.

She held a cardboard carrier with two cups of coffee in one hand and a bag of doughnuts in the other.

"Hey, sweetie," she trilled. "I brought breakfast!"

"Wow. Thank you. This is unexpected."

He took his coffee and grabbed the first doughnut from the bag, a chocolate glazed ring.

"I want that one," said Fiona.

Owen handed it over at once and took a plain glazed ring instead.

"You're in a good mood," said Owen. "Did you sleep well or is it the afterglow from last night?"

Fiona laughed. "Neither. Your performance last night was really subpar. If I didn't love you so much, your ashes would be blowing away in the wind."

Owen swallowed. He was acutely aware that his position as Fiona's consort gave him a certain degree of latitude, but he also knew that making a habit of disappointing her could be fatal. Her emerald eyes were capable of projecting intense beams of heat vision that could disintegrate a human in an instant, something she loved doing. He didn’t understand Fiona since she’d become a Supergirl. She was undeniably evil. Was she truly capable of the unconditional love she claimed to have for him, or would she eventually destroy him if he failed to please her?

Fiona continued. "I didn't sleep well because you left me so unsatisfied. I got up in the middle of the night and fucked one of the chefs, but that didn't go so well. Make a note that we have a vacancy in the kitchen."

He didn't like it, but he knew his relationship with Fiona was monogamous only in the sense that if he dared look at another woman, she would rip him in half with her bare hands, but she was free to have sex with whomever she wanted. She was a Supergirl. Her sex drive was as powerful as the rest of her and no man could ever hope to satisfy her by himself.

"I'm so sorry, Mistress Fiona." Owen decided that a touch of submission might smooth over his failure to satisfy her. "You can always demand more from me. I live to give you pleasure."

Fiona batted his words away with one hand. "Silly boy. I could tell you were spent last night. You could barely move, let alone get me off.”

“Forgive me asking, but if you weren’t satisfied and you slept poorly, why are you in such a good mood?”

She leaned down and kissed him. The touch of her lips against his and the firm invasion of her super strong tongue into his mouth aroused him as always. She reached down and touched his hardening cock. He knew she wouldn’t do more than tease him a little - he was here to give her pleasure, not the other way around - but he craved her touch more than anything else.

She broke the kiss. She continued to play with his cock with one hand and stroked his hair with the other.

“I decided to indulge myself and that was just what I needed to perk my mood up.”

He moaned and took a sip of coffee. “Pumpkin lattes and doughnuts were all you needed?”

“That wasn’t the indulgence I was talking about. Do you know a town called Catsfield? It’s in Connecticut.”

Owen shook his head. He was having trouble focusing on the conversation. Fiona’s teasing had gone on longer than usual and he wasn’t sure how long he could keep himself from cumming. He would have to ask permission, which would not be given. The act of asking would be punished, although not as much as an unauthorized orgasm would be. Fiona had made that very clear.

“Never heard of it.”

“Well now you don’t have to bother. I wiped it off the map.”

His arousal decreased slightly, but Fiona’s canny fingers soon brought him back to the edge.

“How many people? Was it a small town?” He asked, hopefully.

“Pretty small. Only 25,000 people.”

“How many did you kill?”

She reached around and began to massage the spot between the base of his cock and his ass while continuing to stroke his cock with her other hand.

“All of them, silly. Don’t worry, I washed my hands afterwards. I’m not going to get blood or bits of flesh on your cock.”

Fiona had killed a lot of people since she’d become a Supergirl, although he’d thankfully only witnessed a handful of her murders up close, but slaughtering an entire town before breakfast was a significant escalation from her usual behavior.

“It’s not that. I just thought you had to get approval from the League for that kind of thing.”

Fiona had transitioned from teasing to straight up giving him an incredible hand job. He suppressed another moan and tried to judge when he should ask her for permission to cum. She would stop what she was doing as soon as he did and he wanted to postpone that moment for as long as possible, while avoiding the risk of an unauthorized spurt.

“We’ve relaxed the rules a little. After Victoria and Eden lost their minds because they weren’t allowed to be genocide machines, the League decided to give individual Supergirls more latitude on mass casualty events. I thought I'd take advantage. As long as we don’t kill more than 1% of the population in our domain in a calendar year, we can let off a little steam whenever we like.”

Owen did the math, which helped keep him on the right side of climax. There were 150 million humans living in Fiona’s domain, which meant the League of Supergirls had just signed off on her killing 1.5 million of them every year if she felt like it. It was too awful for him to contemplate.

“That’s a lot of steam, Mistress Fiona.”

She squeezed the tip of his cock and he almost came. Through sheer force of will he somehow managed to hold his orgasm back.

“I love it when you call me ‘Mistress’. I’m not going to kill that many people, but it’s nice to have the option. So, what do you think? Does it turn you on that your lover and Mistress committed mass murder then brought you breakfast in bed?”

“Your hands being where they are is what’s really turning me on,” he said. The poor victims of Catsfield were forgotten in the face of his imminent climax. “Fuck, I can’t hold back much longer. Please, Mistress, do I have your permission to cum?”

She made her usual pretense of considering his request. He knew the answer would be “No.” He’d been Fiona’s consort for nearly two years and the only release he’d had in that time were wet dreams, each of which had been punished severely.

“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “I’ll give you permission to cum if you give me permission to destroy Veltford, Pennsylvania.”

“What?”

She ran her fingers across his cock, keeping him on the edge.

“35,000 people,” she said. “They live or die depending on how badly you want to cum.”

“You can’t be serious.”

She kissed him and pressed her generous breasts against his chest. Her bulletproof nipples dug into his feeble human ribs,

“I’m deadly serious. Tell me to stop playing with your cock and nobody dies tonight. Ask me to give you a happy ending to this luxurious hand job and Veltford goes up in flames along with every man, woman, and child within the town limits. I’ll pick up Chinese food for dinner on the way back, from that place you like in Jersey City.”

Owen was nearly beyond the capacity for rational thought. It had been almost two years since his last real orgasm. Now one was within reach, at the cost of 35,000 lives. People he’d never met and never would. If Fiona didn’t kill them, she’d kill another, bigger town when she felt like it. And fuck it, he really wanted Chinese food for dinner.

“Yes,” he said. “You have my permission to destroy Veltford if you let me cum.”

Fiona laughed as her nimble fingers quickly brought him to the orgasm he craved.

Owen screamed in ecstasy, almost unable to believe that Fiona had finally allowed him to climax. A wave of guilt washed over him as he considered the people whose lives he’d traded for his pleasure, but it faded with surprising speed. His time as consort to a Supergirl had hollowed out his soul.

“That was fucking amazing, Mistress.”

Fiona slowly licked Owen's seed from her fingers, savoring every drop.

“Hmm, finely aged. I should make you wait that long for every orgasm. Next time I’ll up the ante and let you choose: for a city of 75,000, you get to cum in my mouth, 150,000 and you can cum in my pussy, half a million and you can fuck me in the ass."

She leaned over and flipped up the back of her black miniskirt to reveal her perfect butt, tightly framed by her bulletproof black satin panties.

"What do you think? Is this ass worth a half million lives?"

Owen sighed and fell back on the bed. He couldn't think about such things right now. He was too blissed out from his long-denied orgasm.

“Can you get extra potstickers?” He asked. “I really like potstickers.”

Three: Supergirl Rachel

In her San Francisco palace, Supergirl Rachel woke up alone and badly hungover. She was still wearing her Supergirl costume and had tangled herself up in the silver cape during the night. Her mouth tasted like alcohol and vomit.

She remembered fighting with Martha about something stupid. Had it been soccer? Or football? Or both? After Martha had flown back to London in a huff, Rachel had started drinking. She'd flown up the coast - or possibly down the coast - and rained random destruction onto a few towns. Not enough to require new maps, but enough that they knew she’d been by.

She’d challenged several men to bare knuckle boxing bouts and had reduced them all to pulp. That was fun. Had she thrown Alcatraz Island into the Pacific or had that been a dream? She’d have to check.

At some point, she'd made her way back to her palace. There were no bloodstains or human remains on the bedding, so she hadn't brought a playmate with her. An empty bottle of vodka on the nightstand indicated that she had continued drinking. Rachel hated vodka and only drank it when she was already so drunk that she had lost most of her self-control. There was a vague recollection of smashing through a wall and snatching vodka from a fancy liquor store in Nob Hill. She was mad at herself for not making a better choice, since that store was renowned for its selection of high-end bourbon.

She must have fallen asleep while drinking, thankfully. If she'd tried to do something really stupid, like firestorming Los Angeles with her heat vision and superbreath, or setting off the San Andreas fault, then one or more of the other Supergirls would have been watching over her when she awoke, ready to escort her to Kara for a lecture on “responsible murder” or “proportionate slaughter.”

But she was alone.

All alone.

So alone.

Fuck feeling sorry for herself, she needed a big breakfast. She took a quick shower to wash away the worst of her alcohol stink and put on a fresh costume. The wonder material Chao-Xing used to make their outfits might be indestructible, and Supergirls might not sweat, but the costume still got funky after a day or two.

Her favorite breakfast place was in the Tenderloin, a few second's flight from her palace in what had formerly been the Presidio. She landed a hundred yards up the street and walked the rest of the way. She was shocked to see a homeless man huddled in a doorway, trying to stay warm in the foggy chill of the morning. She disintegrated him and his meager belongings to ash with a burst of heat vision. She thought by now the unhoused would have gotten the message that San Francisco was off limits. Perhaps she'd been slacking in enforcement of her edict, or the destitute of her Pacific Cost domain were too desperate to care. Suicide by Supergirl was one way to escape life on the streets, she supposed.

There was already a line in front of Deb's. She pushed her way past the waiting customers and reached for the door to the nondescript diner. A young man with a beard was too focused on his phone to recognize her.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" he snarled. "There's a line here."

When he looked up from the screen and saw who he was berating, he stared for a few moments, then turned and ran.

"Why do they think running is an option?" mused Rachel.

She floated up a few meters to get a clear shot and swept a beam of heat vision across his legs, severing them at mid-thigh. He collapsed into the street, screaming. She fired twice more to cut off his arms, leaving him as a helpless, sobbing head and torso.

"When I'm done with breakfast, that man had better still be there, dying slowly in agony. If anyone helps him or calls an ambulance, I'll punch their head off. Same goes for any of you who step out of this line. You’re here now and you’re going to have the best damn breakfast in the city or I will kill you. Understood?"

The line of humans - some terrified and others just wary - nodded. There was a mumbled chorus of "Yes, Supergirl Rachel."

She entered the diner, which was full. A huge photograph of Ella Fitzgerald looked down from one wall. Every red leather stool at the counter was taken, including the one she favored. She marched over and lifted the customer off her stool and tossed him aside.

"What the hell?" he spluttered. Then he saw who had manhandled him and slowly backed away.

Rachel took a sugar cube from a bowl on the counter and flicked it at the man with one finger, sending it flying into and through his head at supersonic speed, killing him instantly.

She sat on the stool as a waitress cleared the half-eaten breakfast of the previous occupant, while another dragged the corpse into the street for collection. The city sanitation department had become adept at cleaning up after Rachel.

"Have you been killing my customers again, Supergirl Rachel?" asked Deb. The middle-aged woman who gave the diner its name and signature recipes was working the flattop on the far side of the counter.

"You should warn them not to take my seat."

Deb shrugged. "The regulars know better. If some tourist or tech bro who doesn't comes by, am I supposed to turn away good money on the off-chance you decide to grace us with your presence?"

"I thought the tech bros all moved to Texas," said Rachel.

"Nah, they took one look at life under Supergirl Kara and came crawling back. You may be cruel, but that bitch is crazy."

"You have no idea. Don’t let her hear you say it, though.”

“How am I supposed to do that? She got super-hearing, ain’t she? Can probably hear me right now all the way from Smallville. Nosy cow.”

Deb’s impudence and disrespect towards the Supergirls had earned torture and execution many times over, but Rachel couldn’t bring herself to do such a thing. She’d been coming to Deb’s for ten years before she became a Supergirl and another seventeen years since. Sure, she’d analyzed the recipes with her super-senses and was sure she could make the entire menu faster and just as good as Deb, but she was also sure nothing would quite taste the same if Deb hadn’t made it. When Deb passed, Rachel planned to burn the place to the ground with her heat vision so no other cook would be able to sully Deb's memory. On her flattop.

A waitress brought her coffee without needing to be asked.

"The usual?" asked Deb.

Rachel nodded. She looked around the other diners as she waited for Deb to cook a stack of unreasonably large gingerbread pancakes with a side of intensely crispy bacon and over-easy eggs. Most were unperturbed by her presence - she recognized many of the regulars who accepted her as one of them. A few were obvious tourists or first-timers who were awed and petrified to be in the presence of a Supergirl, one of the undisputed rulers of the world.

She noticed a handsome guy at the far end of the counter. He thought he was being smooth when he stole glances at her upper thigh, uncovered by her short skirt having ridden up while she perched on the stool. Rachel saw whenever he looked and her super-senses heard his heart rate go up a little each time.

She stretched and arched her back, pressing her impossibly firm breasts hard against the thin, skin tight material of her black crop top. Not only did his heart rate go up, she also sensed blood rushing to his penis. She smirked as he crossed his legs to hide his arousal. He was fit and very fuckable. She and Martha were on a break, or so she assumed. He would make for a tasty post-breakfast treat.

Rachel was halfway through demolishing her stack of maple syrup drenched pancakes when the handsome man got up to leave. She grabbed the back of his shirt as he passed and yanked him towards her.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She asked.

“I was-“

“The question was rhetorical,” she said, “because you’re not going anywhere. You’re coming back to my palace and we are going to fuck. A lot.”

“I’m married,” he said.

Rachel shrugged. “And I have a girlfriend, maybe. Do I look like I care? Also rhetorical, since you apparently need help with that. Oh, and if you’re married, you probably shouldn’t be eye-banging my titties.”

She gestured to the floor.

“Kneel beside my stool while I finish my pancakes.”

Nervously, he did as he was told. Rachel patted him on the head when he was squeezed between her stool and the one neighboring, kneeling in position beside her.

“Good boy.”

She used her x-ray vision to examine his body and confirmed that his cock was large enough to please her.

“You know, if Supergirl Aiko had her way, males wouldn’t be permitted to wear clothes in public. Makes no difference to me - I have x-ray vision - but it would be pretty humiliating for you. Maybe I’ll vote for it next time she brings it up. It would be funny to see you guys waddling around with no clothes, trying to preserve some tiny shred of dignity with your hands covering your crotch.”

When she was done, Rachel made no attempt to pay for her breakfast. Supergirls took whatever they wanted and she never carried money anyway. Deb huffed but made no verbal complaint.

Rachel grabbed her new boy toy by the collar and led him out of the diner. The dead body had been cleared away but the legless and armless man was still whimpering in pain in the middle of the street, begging for help. She rolled her eyes. With a puff of superbreath, she sent him flying into the side of a building, breaking every bone in his body and putting him out of his misery. She could be a kind goddess when she chose, not that her subjects appreciated it.

"Come on, toy," she said to her chosen partner for the morning. "Let's find out how long you can last before I break your dick in half."